CHASING ETERNITY

By

Ramon Ballard

Fate is the coincidental act of one’s life colliding with time and circumstance. A grieving widower, a heroic Civil War general, and a great president struck down in the prime of his life are on the same coincidental collision course headed toward their separate fates. The universe stands still for a brief moment just long enough to listen to the widower’s life story designed by fate and written by the hands of destiny.

Chapter One

Washington D.C, 1865

The invitation to attend the theater with the President remained ignored on the table in the lobby. Colin Harcourt’s wife of sixty years passed away before they could use the tickets. The president, who happened to be a lifelong friend, invited Colin and Beth to join him and the first lady at the theater to watch Our American Cousin. He sent word to the President that his grief prevented him from attending. The assassination of the president shocked the nation, including Colin, but losing his wife weighed more heavily on his heart. 

Being immortal carried certain drawbacks, losing loved ones happened to be one of them.

Colin sat alone in the corner for two days — unshaven, unwashed, and unable to arrange for his wife’s funeral. It was something he would have to do. He didn’t know when or how. Perhaps his daughter would manage the details he could not.

Beth was not his first wife. He loved many times before, loved with all his heart. There would always be someone to notice his hair never grayed, his strength never weakened, how wrinkles and age spots never graced his face. Someone would start the ugly rumors and whispers of witchcraft and bargains with the devil. Colin always prepared in advance and stockpiled provisions so his family would never want when it became necessary for him to say his last goodbyes before disappearing into the night like a thief.

He wandered from town to town aimlessly. He consumed too much alcohol, brawled, gambled, and volunteered for adventures or war all in the hope his pain would finally end, and the stubborn heart in his chest would stop beating. That was before Beth came into his life. She was different, or perhaps he was different. Possibly, he learned that in this life one must fight for what is important to you. One must fight for family and love.

***

Colin sat on an ornately wrought-iron bench outside the Willard Hotel, elbows propped on his knees, with his head cupped in his hands. He glared down the road toward the Ford’s Theater. He always thought of it as a joyful place, and it bore many fond memories of his wife. The thought of the lifeless body of Beth in her bed haunted him. He was the one who was supposed to leave. Colin prepared himself for Beth’s death. It was inevitable. However, there was no way he could have prepared for, or even imagined, the harsh reality in the way she left him.  Beth wasn’t supposed to die, and he never intended for her to break his heart this way. For the first time in his life, he was the one left behind, and he ached for his wife’s touch. For the first time, he realized just how unfair he was to the loves of his past. I should have been more of a man and less of a coward.

Across the street the soldiers patrolled, rifles ready in case of riots, their faces etched with sorrow. A steady stream of officers and members of Congress wearing black mourning armbands entered the Treasury building across the street from where Colin watched blankly, too numb to care. 

Everywhere around him, women wailed, and men marched stiffly, betrayed by their tears. Colin gazed across the rooftops to the incomplete memorial; construction began in 1848, seventeen years ago. The work stopped on the monument during of the war to allow the workers to join the army. It is no secret that some of them joined the Army of the Confederacy.

Colin loved Washington D.C. He would always enjoy the nation’s capital. He lived here off and on for the past sixty years. He knew true love here. His children were born here. He and his wife roamed along this very road together. Colin’s heart would forever remain in Washington D.C. 

A man Colin recognized as General Grant crossed the street and scurried past him. “Colin is that you?”

“Yes, General.”

 “By God, you’ve hardly changed.” Grant sat next to his acquaintance. “I haven’t seen you since the inauguration ball back in ’61. You were there with your mother if I recall.”

Colin did not correct the general. Few knew she was his wife. “That’s correct. It was an excellent ball. We knew then we were sitting on a powder keg. The ball seemed to be the calm before the storm.”

“Yes, the nation has gone through so much in the last four years. We lost a great man, despite our victory.” Grant sighed and retrieved a cigar from his jacket. “Do you mind if I smoke?” After lighting the cigar, he took a deep breath before he continued. “The Union will survive this catastrophe. That is if I have anything to say about it. Let me assure you I will make certain that Southern Democrat and charlatan Andrew Johnson does nothing to taint the efforts of our beloved president. The president invited me to attend the theater as well. However, my wife Julia has a great dislike for Mary, so we declined the invitation. God only knows what my fate would have been if I accepted.”

 “I agree we lost a great man, but, the woman…” Colin kept his secret to himself. “My—um mother passed away on Tuesday. But—she…”

“But?”  The general blew a smoke ring, exhaled and asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me, sir.” Colin shifted nervously on the bench.

“I’ll be the judge whether or not I believe you. I have seen many things in the last few years.” Grant sighed. “To be truthful, Abe once warned me not to judge until I heard your whole story.”

“You wouldn’t believe me. Trust me.”

“Mr. Harcourt, I’ve got eyes and could see the woman was obviously not your mother. I used the term mother out of respect.” 

“You’re right. She wasn’t my mother.” Colin felt as if a heavyweight lifted from his chest.

“I won’t pry into your business. But you should know you aren’t the first to be attracted to an older woman.”

“I am somewhat older than I appear. The older woman was my wife, a woman I adored and devoted my every breath too, and a woman I could never replace anywhere or at any time. This I know. Now, if you don’t mind, I would rather be alone.” Colin rubbed his hands together and whispered.  “We were married for sixty years.”

“You must realize I can't believe a man that looks so young could have been married for sixty years.”

Colin reached inside his shirt and produced a plain scarab on a chain. The chain appeared to be ancient.

“What is that?” asked General Grant, crowding Colin to get a closer look.

“That, sir,” Colin bowed his head with despair “is both my blessing and my curse.” He returned the talisman beneath his shirt.

“It looks like an ancient chain with some insect attached.”

“Yes, the ancient Egyptians called them scarabs. This scarab and I go back a very long time. It is because of this wretched object I am here today. It is why I was here sixty years ago and sixty years before that.” Colin rubbed his hands on his trousers as if he wanted to get the feel of his necklace from his hands. The scarab would start to itch, and this let him know it was time to tell another person his story. It didn’t matter if the general believed him. The scarab chose to whom he told the story, and for some reason, the scarab chose a Union General and war hero.

“General, I’m about to tell you a story that was told to Lincoln, Adams, Jefferson, Franklin, and Washington. I don’t ask you to believe it. Please hold off any judgment of me until I’ve completed the story.” 

“I promise to refrain from judgment,” urged Grant. “Abe hinted that there might be an outrageous tale.”

Colin cleared his throat. “I was born in Kent County, England on the twentieth day of March in the year of our Lord 1066. My mother called me a miracle because I was born the day a comet graced our English sky. We know the comet by a different name, Halley’s Comet. My father thought of me as another hungry mouth to feed. My family was dirt poor, but at least we owned a small strip of land. We produced our food and raised a few pigs, sheep, and chickens, enough to be self-sufficient. As luck would have it, I was born the same year that the Duke of Normandy, William the Conqueror, carved up England. Our land became his land, which he gave to the newly appointed Earl of Kent, Odo the Bishop of Bayeux, William’s half-brother. We became peasants almost overnight. Shall I continue?”

A thoughtful expression crossed the general’s face. “Your story sounds unbelievable, so incredible I doubt the validity, but yet the story, true or untrue, captivates me.” He tugged his tarnished pocket watch from his vest and opened the U.S. ARMY imprinted casing. A gust of wind blew dust from around the corner, the sound of officers barking orders drifted in the air. “They won’t miss me with all this confusion.” The general gazed from side to side. “I have some spare time between appointments. Please continue.”

***

Ten-year-old Colin shivered on his straw bed. Dim sunlight trickled through the thatched roof. Pale dust-mites amalgamated with the lingering smoke from the dwindling fire. A winter wind chilled the lone hazy room. The wattle-daubed walls of the wood structure were no match for the cold. His threadbare blanket offered no help at all. Pigs snorted in their sleep under the rough-hewn table against a wall, and the family’s chickens clucked as they searched the frigid dirt floor for meager crumbs.

Colin’s one remaining brother lay motionless a few feet away. He listened for any sign of life, a slight breath, a movement, anything, but the room was silent, and Colin feared the worst.

His two eldest brothers left home a few months after Colin’s birth to defend London against the armies of William the Conqueror. Both were disappointed when the officials of Kent signed a treaty with the French conqueror without a fight. They were determined to keep England free from the Duke of Normandy. London fell soon after, and the family lost all contact with his brothers. His father, a cold, heartless man, refused to mention their names. His mother held silent vigils in hopes they would return. Another brother died after a mule kicked him in his head. The barber drilled a hole in the skull, the prescribed cure, but his brother died. His father could not afford to pay the burial fee to the church, so he cremated his son a few yards from the family’s front door.

“Father, where is Mother?” inquired the young boy, glancing at the ground where his mother slept. There was no answer. He stared at his brother. “Father, I fear the worst for John.” Still no reply.

Two weeks earlier, his brother and his mother broke out with sores around their mouths. Two days later the rash appeared followed by raging fevers, body aches, headaches, and chills. Bloodletting did little to ease the pain or the symptoms. His father dispatched an urgent request to the archbishop. The clergy responded with their message. The priest was too busy to come to their aid. However, for a small fee, they would send an underling to perform last rites.

Their latest taxes left his father penniless. There was never enough money to pay unnecessary fees. 

 “Colin, come help and be fast about it.” His father’s gruff voice came from behind the rough-hewn door. “Stir your brother. If he does not stir, then I will stir him.”

Colin opened the door to a sight that would haunt his dreams for a lifetime. The flames of a massive fire danced in the wind, licked, and consumed the thin, tattered body of his mother. Without turning, his father said, “Your brother would not stir? I feared that. Watch the fire. Keep it from spreading while I go prepare your brother.”

Tears welled in Colin’s eyes.

His father returned with the limp body of his brother. “Go take care of our morning meal, Colin. There is nothing you can do now. Smallpox has taken their souls.” Colin stood in disbelief as his father piled his brother into the fire. “We do not have the fees to give them a proper burial thanks to the Earl of Kent and his property taxes.” His father spat onto the ground. “Go make our meal. I have wood to chop, and you have pigs that need tending.”

Colin lingered, staring at the fire. He jumped and ran back into the house when his father shouted, “Boy, move when I tell you to move.”

***