My Guardian Angel//Lams//Post Laurens Death

Chapter Eleven

John Laurens
Philip and I got back to New York within a few hours. Burr only lives a day away, at most. He's never truly liked being in the center square anyway.

"Back home," Philip breathes in the fresh air. "Finally. I wish Theo was here."

I understand the feeling. Whenever I was in South Carolina, when I was still alive, I often wished for Hamilton's company. Just hearing his name in my mind makes me want to both smile and cringe.

I still can't believe that he...

I shake off the feeling and turn my attention to a nearby archive. I tap Philip's shoulder and point. He doesn't look intrigued.

"An archive? Is that really the best you can do?" Philip asks.

"What? There's history in there," I reply. "It's just a library of artifacts and old books. Like a museum."

"I knew I made a mistake tagging along with Dad when I was fourteen," Philip shakes his head. "That's where I heard my first curse word. From Jefferson."

"Speaking of," I point to a stand of newspapers and we go over. Philip takes one look and his eyes widen.

"Oh no," he says. "I didn't think—I didn't—"

"What?" I look over his shoulder and see the headline: Revolutionary Hero Philip Schuyler Loses Senate Seat to Young Upstart Aaron Burr.

"Well," a man arm-in-arm with a woman looks at the paper. "I knew that old man was going to lose it eventually."

"That's my grandfather you're talking about!" Philip glares at the man and woman. They wear silk garments, showing wealth. "And, if it weren't for him, you'd still be paying the taxes that Parliament put in place."

They don't answer. They just walk past us. I put a hand on Philip's shoulder.

"Ignore them." I say.

"I have to find Mom," he replies. "Come on. Dad shouldn't be home yet."

He doesn't say anything else and walks hurriedly towards downtown. I follow, the noise getting louder in my ears the closer we get. The sounds of memories and the busy streets combine and swirl in my mind.

"Alex! What are you doing here? Did you just leave Lafayette?" "He'll be fine, I'm here to help."

"No, no, no, wait, it's me, Laurens!" "John?" "Yes. You guys have hypothermia."

"John, look at me. John! Wake up! Please!"

"John, come on," Philip's voice breaks the chain. "We're here."

It's true; we're standing on the porch of the Hamilton Estate. I can see John Church Hamilton running around inside, chasing his older sister, Angelica.

Philip knocks. Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton comes to the door. She sees her son and hugs him tightly.

"Oh, it felt like you were gone for an eternity!" she says.

"Mom—need to—breathe," Philip manages. Eliza lets go.

"Sorry. I'm just so excited! Come, quickly." Eliza ushers her son inside and I walk right in.

"Bubba!" squeals John Hamilton. "Bubba, Bubba!"

"Hey!" Philip picks up his baby brother. "And how's little Johnny doing, hm?"

John sputters random vowels. Angelica shakes her head, smiling. She puts John in his high-chair and hugs her older brother.

"Missed you, bro," she says.