Chapter Thirty-one

Eternity caught

Colin Harcourt the fifth pushed the snooze button on his alarm clock. Tuesday was his regular day off. However, he had switched shifts with another today. Looking out the window, he regretted that decision. The bright early blue sky had all the makings of another fantastic day. He hoped his shift would be an easy one, but he knew Engine 054 out of Manhattan would be ready for anything that came their way. As he ran out the door the portrait over the mantle caught his attention, it had been passed down in his family for nearly two-hundred years. It was a portrait of his sixth great grandmother and grandfather, his namesake. If you looked close enough, you could see the legendary scarab necklace grasped in his hands.

Colin hated his name. Well, it wasn’t his name he hated. No, Colin was a perfectly normal name. The fact he was the fifth person in his family to have that name given to him that was much to take.

The original Colin was supposed to be some kind of immortal being if you believed such stuff. The fifth wasn’t sure that he did. There were rumors that he fought and died in the First World War. And then again there were just as many rumors he fought in the next war. The myth that he had fought in any war was preposterous.

Colin had died in the 1800s and was buried next to the fifth’s sixth-great-grandmother. No immortality, only a sliver in the pedigree of the Harcourts. The family should dispense with naming children after some creepy grandfather had to stop. When it came time to name his son, the name chosen was Colin Harcourt the sixth.

He asked a genealogist to research his family line. Yes, they found Colin, but without a time of death. They also found a British soldier around the time of the French and Indian War. Not to mention a British soldier who defected over to the Patriot side during the Revolutionary War. The fifth put that aside as mere coincidences.

As for his profession, he couldn’t explain his odd obsession with being a fireman. He never wanted to be one growing up. No, not until his freshman year at Columbia. When heard a man speak at a Career Day all about the noble deeds of a fireman. That day changed his life. He changed his major soon after and last year, 2000, he was sworn in as a firefighter.

He thought of that one speaker and then looked at the portrait. It was uncanny that he never noticed the similarities before. It was just another of a long line of coincidences.

 A few weeks earlier, Colin was sure he had seen the man himself at the Majestic Theater, but he never believed legend could be true. Immortality, how odd?

Shaking the notion from his brain, he leaned over and kissed his wife. “I need to get out of here, remember I took Skoolsher’s shift. I won’t be home for dinner.”

 *

Colin stared up through the rubble dazed and confused. He coughed up blood but felt only a little pain. He was aware his body lay mangled and crushed between a steel girder and the floor. He thought he was in a dream. No other scenarios could explain his surroundings.

Through half-open eyes, he saw the stranger kneeling beside him, squinting he made out the NYFD on the stranger’s helmet.

"Relax, we will have you up and around in no time," the stranger said reverently. Colin could tell the doubt in the stranger’s voice.

With difficulty, Colin asked the stranger, "What day is it?"

"Hush now and relax. It's Tuesday, September the 11th."

"What happened?" Colin asked, weakly.

Tears filled the stranger’s eyes, "They flew airplanes into the North, and South Tower They have both collapsed. The first responders that survived the destruction are searching for survivors.” The stranger checked Colin's pulse and shook his head. "They hit the Pentagon, and a plane crash-landed in some field in Pennsylvania."

"What do you mean the surviving first responders?" Colin asked meekly. He grabbed his scarab weakly and tugged at it.

"We'll have you out of here real soon." The firefighter gripped Colin’s weak, trembling hand, comforting him.

Colin smiled at the firefighter as he thrust the scarab necklace into his hands, “Caglar icin simidi alt." He knew he was cursing his rescuer, but he also knew it was what he was supposed to do. His mind became clear. The firefighter gazed at the necklace.

"What does that mean? I don't speak that language," the firefighter stated confused. Tears flowed down his cheeks. The younger Colin flinched and then glanced at his finger. “The damned thing jabbed my finger.”

Colin smiled one last time, his eyes clear, "You look so much like my Beth."

The firefighter wiped a tear away with his dirty hands. “I had a great-great-grandmother named Beth, and I was named after my great-great-grandfather. But they have both been dead a very long time.”

“I am your namesake. I haven’t enough time to explain. I thought it best not to get you involved in your life.” Colin coughed up blood. “I could not bear to watch you grow up and die, like all the rest. I’m so sorry, but you’ve been chosen by the scarab.”

Raising the old man’s hand, the firefighter kissed it gently. “Chosen? It was you on that Career Day my freshman year?”

“Yes, the scarab wanted you to become a firefighter. I apologize. I had no other choice.” A tear appeared in the corner of Colin’s eyes, “Sorry, I must finish this before I can finally go home to Beth. If you know of the legend you, know what this means. I apologize for what I’m about to do to you, my son. Learn from my mistakes. Now, this must be said, lanet dikkat,” Colin said with his dying breath.

Young Colin wiped tears from his eyes as he struggled to his feet. He swore he heard “I told you that I would wait,” whisper through the smoke and dust filled rubble.

He turned and stared at the body of his great-great-grandfather, unable to hold back the flood of tears. An uncontrollable sense of urgency to leave the area came over him. He gasped and brought the back of his hand to his mouth as his grandfather’s body turned into sand, then stepped away. A moment later, the area where he had stood collapsed. He heard a small voice behind him, “Help me, please.” Colin knew he could save that person. The scarab had found a new home.

The End

Chapter Thirty

Washington D.C. February 8, 1825

Jim sat wide-eyed and open-mouthed as Colin told his life story. When finished, he sat motionless for a few seconds.

“Let me see that there necklace again,” he begged Colin. “What happens if’n you was to disobey that thing?”

“I don’t know. I have never resisted its urgings for more than a few hours. I get terrible headaches and shakes when I resist even that long. I can only imagine what would happen if I were to resist longer,” Colin confessed.

“I see. Y'all gots no idea if’n the pain gets worse or not,” Jim said stroking his long beard.

“No, I guess I don’t” Colin confessed.

“Then y’all are a damned fooled coward. Never suspected y’all was one,” Jim stated.

“I suppose I am a coward. I never thought of it that way.”

“Well, whatcha gonna do ‘bout it?” Jim asked.

“Do about it?” Colin asked confused.

“Y'all gonna just sit there and let that thing dictate your life. Or ya gonna become a man and quit running from your loved ones? It’s time to quit sittin’ ‘round feeling sorry for yourself.”

“Are you telling me to go home?”

“Damn rights I am. Go home, fool. And next time that there necklace tells ya to skedaddle ‘cause people are talkin’ bout your age difference or such stuff tell that there necklace to mind its own business. And if’n ya gotta move, move with her. Tell the new neighbors you are her brother, son, gran-son, whatever, just don’t take the cowards way out agin. Stay with your loved ones. No matters what gits thrown in your face. I said my piece, take it or leave it.”

Colin sat with his back to a tree, its branches bare from winter’s ravage. Dirty patches of snow littered the cold ground. He had returned to the nation’s capital three days ago, and he still had not found his wife and children. The Potomac River flowed a few yards before him. The White House was a few blocks behind him while the nearly complete Capital Building was to his right. He could not see either building, but he knew they were there. He could not explain why, but he felt a comforting feeling knowing, despite his current dilemma.

An object floated up the Potomac, piquing Colin’s curiosity. The object took the shape of a man the closer it got. The man swam to Mason’s Island before turning to swim in the return direction.

Colin blinked in disbelief. The swimming man was completely naked. To Colin’s horror, the naked man waved to him and said something he did not hear. Colin became uncomfortable when the man swam to the shore and clambered up the banks. Colin turned to make a hasty exit but stopped when the naked man on the beach pleaded for him to stay.

Colin turned his back to the man to show some semblance of modesty even though the man couldn't care less.

“We have met. However, it was years ago,” the naked man said stretching his arms over his head.

“You must be mistaken. I am new to the area,” Colin answered and walked away.

 “Did I mention Washington D.C.? No, I met you?” The naked man said.

A colored man ran to the naked man. His arms were full of clothing. He bent at the waist, breathing hard. “I dun tol’ ya not to be swimmin’ in da river in nuttin’ but a smile, sir. Now looks what y’all gone and dun. Y'all ran into dis regular citizen. Dis ain’t no way for da president of these here Nited States to be actin.’”

“This is not an ordinary man,” the naked man said pulling on his britches. “And I am not the president, yet. I will have to wait until March 4th and a yea vote from Congress. Isn’t the Twelfth Amendment a wonderful piece of legislation?” The man turned his attention to Colin, “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr…?”

Colin swayed nervously. “I wouldn’t know. I have not read a newspaper for ages.”

“Walk with me, and I will update you on the latest news,” the stranger said, extending his hand to Colin.

“I have pressing appointments, but if you don’t mind walking in my direction?” Colin said pointing toward the Capitol Building.

Adams laughed, slapping Colin on the back. “Very well. Amos, please tell the staff I will be along shortly.”

Colin looked at the balding Adams. “Do you trust your man to return to your home?”

Adams stared at Colin, shocked. “Amos is not my slave. He is a friend of confidence and servant. I believe slavery is an abomination and should be banned as soon as possible. However, I promised to update you and inform you about the wonderful Twelfth Amendment.”

“Mr. President, I still can’t remember ever having the pleasure of meeting you.” Colin leaned over to pick up a short tree branch, which he swung without thought.

“Have patience, my old friend. Now, where was I?” The naked man buttoned his overcoat before continuing. “Oh, yes, we were discussing great legislation. As you may or may not know, Andy Jackson won the popular vote in the election last year. However, he failed to achieve the majority of the electoral vote. The Twelfth Amendment tosses such elections in the lap of Congress. Henry Clay of the House dislikes Jackson and has all but promised their vote would swing my way. The House will vote tomorrow, February 9th.”

“I suppose congratulations might be appropriate,” Colin said. “That still doesn’t tell me when we met.”

“I thought that might be obvious. I am John Quincy Adams… Son of John Adams, you visited my father at the White House frequently.”

“Yes, your father and I had a somewhat formal relationship. I don’t recollect your attendance at any of our meetings,” Colin said smiling.

Adams stopped, looking both ways before continuing. “I stayed in the corner, but the father would always call you a charlatan after you departed. I would constantly besiege him as to why he disliked you so. He finally relented and told me your story. I could not believe the story but obviously, it must be true, you haven’t aged a day in over twenty years.”

Colin tossed the branch to his left. “My story is true, unfortunately. How is your father?” 

“He is not well. Lately old age has not been kind to him. I am thankful he rekindled his friendship with Thomas Jefferson. I feared they would both enter the Eternal reward without making amends.”

“Thomas still lives?” Colin asked surprised.

“Yes, he too is in ill health, and penniless. We owe Thomas an enormous debt of gratitude. Are you aware that Thomas donated his entire collection to the Library of Congress after the British burned it down during the war?” Adams grabbed Colin’s elbow, guiding him across the street, as a carriage rumbled into view.

“I was unaware of that. Give your father my regards,” Colin said.

A twinkle came to Adams' eyes. “I was hoping you might take the opportunity to tell him yourself, at your convenience. It would do him a world of good.”

Colin stopped, causing Adams to lose grip and stumble. “I will try, but first I must locate the whereabouts of my wife and children.”

Adams smiled and swirled his arms around as if he was a king showing off his kingdom. “I will have the entire resources of the United States government at my disposal. Come by my office after the Fourth of May, if you haven’t located them by then.”

“I took another two months to locate my family. I found them in the last place I would ever look,” Colin said, looking at his timepiece. He shook his head and replaced it in his pocket.

“Where did you find your family?” Sally asked.

Colin chuckled. “They never moved, even though I insisted that they move. I found them where I left them. I am sorry, but I have a pressing engagement, and I should arrive on time.”

“Please spend a few more minutes with us,” Sally’s mother asked, touching Colin’s hand.

“Very well, a few more minutes. The story ends with my retirement from running away from my responsibilities. Beth and I spent the next forty years raising our children and grandchildren. My boys grew up to be outstanding citizens. Isaiah even named his first son after me as promised, imagine Colin Harcourt the second. Alison lost her life during childbirth. Dolly still lives, but she is very ill.”

“So you and your wife never parted?” asked James.

“Of course not, we spent time apart and would move, and I would come back as someone else, as far as anyone outside the family knew.”

 “I visited my good friend Thomas just before his death in July 1826. He gave me a letter to give to John Adams, but we all know he passed the same day.” Colin opened a small wooden box sitting on the table. Fishing out a letter, he handed it to Grant, “I carry the letter with me wherever I go." Colin looked at Sally and smiled. “I suppose I have lived a remarkable life. I wouldn’t change a thing. I have had my share of true love, more than most.”

“What are you going to do now? I mean the Scarab keeps you alive,” asked Sally’s mother.

“You mean in the future? I haven’t given it much thought. Maybe California or New York, I might even stay here. For now, I am headed for the White House. I have an appointment to pay my respects to Mary Lincoln.”

 “Wait, I’ll go with you,” Grant said.

“I’d rather go by myself if you don’t mind,” Colin said. “The Lincoln’s and I go way back. I think we would like to share our grief in peace.” He nodded at Sally’s mother. “Perhaps we shall meet again. I have some wonderful stories to tell.” Turning he headed for the door. “Tales you can’t learn in school,” he said over his shoulder.  

Chapter Twenty-nine

New Orleans during the winter of 1823

“I caught a ride from Perry County to Cincinnati from a farmer returning to the east. Crop failure destroyed the farmer’s dream of success. I, on the other hand, convinced myself the conversation with a gangly young boy appeased the Scarab's appetite. It was time to go home.”

“I hired a boat filled with beaver pelts headed for Pittsburgh. My curse, however, had other plans. I ended up on a flat raft carrying seed down the Ohio to markets in Memphis and Natchez.”

“That’s not fair,” Sally insisted. “You missed your children.”

Colin glanced around the room. “Yes, I miss my wife and my children. Eight months without them seemed like an eternity.” 

“I hate your scarab,” Sally cried hugging Colin around the neck, kissing him on the cheek.

Colin’s mood changed like a sunny day preparing for a downpour. His eyes etched with deep sorrow, while he released some memories long forgotten. Holding back tears, he searched for words. “I apologize for my current lack of control. I am not particularly proud of the next part of my story; I would leave it buried in my mind. However, it bears some relevance.”

“Do you need time alone?” asked Sally’s mother tenderly, placing her dainty hand on his.

“No, thank you, I’m ready. At first, I accepted my fate. The Scarab's plans didn’t include returning home to my loved ones. I knew I would return eventually. This was the first time returning home became a priority,” Colin said, tapping his foot nervously.

“I first worked in a Silver Mine in the southeast corner of the Missouri territory. The mine’s owner was Moses Austin, father of Stephen Austin. The New Mexican government gave Moses permission to take three-hundred homesteaders into their Texas. Unfortunately, Moses contracted pneumonia and died before his dream to settle Texas was realized. He asked his son Stephen to complete his dream. Stephen had dreams of his own. The scarab interceded, and in early 1821, Stephen and three-hundred followers left to settle in Texas. We all know how that ended. What with the Davy Crocket, the Alamo, and Texas independence. Not to mention Texas statehood.”

“Did you go to Texas with Austin?” asked Grant. “You have done nothing to regret, so far.”

“I contemplated traveling with Stephen, but honestly, my mind was on joining my family. I promised him I would find my family and join him in Texas, but scarabs don’t keep promises. As for regrets, I have only begun my way back home.” Colin cupped his chin in his large hands. He shook his head before continuing. “I gave up hope. It became crystal clear the scarab would not allow me any happiness. Depression came with a loss of faith. Drinking came with my depression. I thought I could drown my memories with liquor. You can never drink enough to run away from your life. Believe me. I have tried. One year became two, and two years became three. In early 1823 I found myself in New Orleans.”

Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop on the corner of Bourbon Street and St. Phillips Street was practically empty. Colin wasn’t surprised. Taverns, especially taverns owned by infamous pirates, were usually quiet before noon.  An overweight man sat in the far corner facing the opposite direction of Colin. Early morning mist from the bayou enveloped New Orleans. It was going to be another dreary March day. Colin’s fourth tankard of beer sat before him. He toyed with his breakfast of overcooked sausage and undercooked eggs. His appetite vanished, like most days. He no longer cared about his long life and wished his curse would end the sooner, the better.

A light rain splattered against the windows. The man in the corner shifted his chair at the sound of the rain, his eyes meeting Colins. The man smiled and lifted his coffee toward Colin. A loud burst of thunder rattled the windows. Colin turned from the man to watch the people caught in the sudden outburst. Colin had seen the man before. He couldn’t place where or when.

The door opened as a drenched man rushed through the door. Colin sprang from his chair to assist the soaked man to remove his buckskin coat. “What the hell are you doing in New Orleans, Stephen?”

Stephen, surprised, peered through rain-soaked eyes at the person offering assistance. “I might ask you the same thing, Colin. You were going home to your wife and children last time I saw you. I believe you said Washington D. C.”

“Didn’t quite work out that way. It’s good to see you and Stephen. Last I heard you were headed for Texas, and yet, here we are in New Orleans. I have a table,” he said pointing to his table. “Please join me.” Colin caught the attention of the barkeep, motioning for another round.

“None for me, thank you,” Stephen said pulling out the nearest chair. “I only dropped in until the rain passes. I have an important meeting at the French Consulate.”

Colin’s eyes questioned. “French? I thought Texas was Spanish.”

“No longer, the Spanish Government in Mexico no longer exists; we are now under the Provisional Government of Mexico. They are no longer friendly to our cause as free Texans.”

“Why go to the French? Shouldn’t you send your grievance to Washington D. C? You are still Americans aren’t you?” Colin placed his fork on the edge of his plate.

Stephen shook his head in disgust. “We have sent delegate after delegate. President Monroe has refused to see them, I hope a new administration will see the injustice in Texas in a new light, but we can’t afford to wait until elections. We, in Texas, don’t look favorably on either candidate. Neither Adams nor Andy Jackson will help Texas if elected.  Maybe Henry Clay from Kentucky, but he is a long shot. In the meantime, we asked France to intervene on our behalf.” Stephen glanced at his pocket watch and quickly arose. “I am sorry, but I must be off. I can’t be late for my appointment, so much hinges on it. I won’t be long, and I want to hear why you are sitting alone in New Orleans and drinking at nine o’clock in the morning. I hope you have a good explanation.”

Colin stared blankly at his friend. “I’ll be here, and time is relative. Is nine o’clock early if you are haven’t gone to bed from the night before?”

“Drinking without sleep will be the end of you, my friend,” Stephen said as he left the table.

“I'm all right, Stephen. I am too ornery to have an end of me,” Colin snapped at his friend.

Through the corner of his eye, Colin noticed the overweight man lumber him toward the table. Colin racked his brain. He could not remember how the obese man fit in his life. He had no time to run.

“Excuse me,” the overweight man said as he sat, uninvited. “Forgive me, but I just need to ask. Are you a relation to Colin Harcourt? You are an exact look-alike. Although he would be at least sixty by now, I was hoping he might be your father.” Colin stared at the man, too shocked to speak. “Forgive the intrusion,” he said backing away from the table.

“Last time I saw you, you were headed off to fight Indians. It appears the Indians fed you well. Sit down, Jim. I have one hell of a tale to tell," Colin said to his old St. Louis trapping partner.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Perry County Indiana summer 1819

"I'm going with you," cried Beth, her words barely discernible as she could not stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks.

Colin finished packing and stepped toward his wife. He picked her up from the bed and kissed her tenderly. He too had tears flowing freely down his cheeks. "We’ve been through this before. I have no idea where I am going."

"I don't care. I would go to hell with you," she said, breaking away from his embrace.

"I doubt I am going that far. Maybe as far as New Orleans but nowhere near hell," Colin said with a smile, reaching for Beth. Beth refused the grasp. "This is no place for you or the children; Alison is barely a year old."

"I don't care. The wife's place is with her husband." She cried and ran into his waiting arms. “Why can’t you throw the damned thing away?”

“We’ve been through this. The scarab chose me. You know I’d get sick if I were to stop wearing the necklace. A sickness where there is no cure or no death. It doesn’t matter where I bury the scarab, or which ocean I tossed it. The necklace would find a way to reunite with me. I can’t give it away because the person would die. I only hope that one day the scarab will release its hold on me. It was finished with the person who gave it to me. One day it will be through with me. I promise.”  Colin kissed her passionately and pried himself from her embrace. "I'm so sorry. I need to finish packing. You understand, don't you?" Colin knew she didn’t understand. This was the hardest part of immortality. Grief followed him everywhere he settled.

Beth nodded her head meekly, but she didn't understand.

Colin rubbed his wife’s shoulders. "I told you there would come a day when I would need to leave. This damned scarab won't allow me to stay. People are talking."

"Let them talk," Beth yelled. "We can move. That will stop the talking."

"It's inevitable, you and the children will grow old, and I will have to watch you die”

"No, promise you'll come back," she pleaded.

"It's no use. I can't return,'" Colin bit his lip, his heartbreaking as his world crumbled around him. “I’ve done this before, Beth, it hurts, but it is better this way. I promised myself I would never fall in love again, I would never let this happen again, and I failed myself, I failed you.”

"Colin, I wouldn’t trade what we have had for anything but think about it. We can make it work. Promise you will come back. I will move. I can pretend I am a recent widow. You can pretend you are my brother at first, then my son or grandson. I will try anything. Just promise me that you will return." She embraced Colin in her arms, looking deep into his eyes. "Promise." Beth placed her head on her husband’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, as tears fell.

Colin melted into her arms, "I will return. I promise. Until then, remember how we were.” He pointed to a portrait of Beth and him hanging over the mantle. “You have that to remember, and I have.” He took out his pocket watch. “I have a picture of you in here. I won’t forget you, Beth. But you have to promise me you will stay in Washington."

"Why do we need to stay here?" She said without moving her head.

"I don't know why. It’s a feeling." Colin shrugged his shoulders.

"How can I send word to you? How will you find us?" She said pulling herself away from Colin.

"The scarab will find you. We will be together again," Colin said slinging his knapsack over his shoulders.

"I love you and always will," Colin said, kissing his wife. “Remember there is sufficient money in the bank to keep you housed and fed for several years. I would, however, withdraw it from the bank in the next few weeks. Don't ask me how I know, but there will be a financial panic very soon. Keep the money hidden wherever you move. Don't trust a bank or any investment for the next two years."

She reached for Colin’s hands, holding them to her heart. "I will do what you ask. I, too, will love you for the rest of my life."

"I will love you for the rest of my life," Colin said wiping a tear from his eye. Beth broke down sobbing. She knew what that meant. "Stop your crying, darling. We don’t want to upset the children."

Eleven-year-old George, nine-year-old Isaiah, and five-year-old Dolly crashed into the room as if they had been eavesdropping. Her nurse carried the one-year-old Alison. They all clambered onto their father.

"Papa, why are you leaving us?" Dolly asked wrapping her tiny arms around him. 

"It's cause Pa don't age properly," George replied, standing in the corner with his arms folded.

"Yeah, he's like a million years old," Isaiah piped in, sitting next to his mother on the bed.

Nurse Annie handed Alison to her mother, "I don't know what is happening here, but I promise to remain with the misses as long as I am needed. Now if you don't mind, I will leave you all for a private goodbye," she said exiting the room.

"Thank you, Annie," Beth said, cradling her sleeping daughter next to her broken heart.

Colin gathered his children in his arms. He couldn’t help remembering the many times he had said goodbye to his children in his past. There had been far too many. He had seen too many sad-faced children in his life. Each one had broken his heart. He remembered every wife, every child, and every tear from his past. Leaving had never been an easy decision. Beth was the first wife to whom he had promised to return.

"It's all right Papa. I will see you again," little Dolly said handing him a dandelion.

Colin took the 'flower' and gingerly added it to the top of his belongings.

"George, you will be the man of the house until I return. Obey your mother and watch after your sisters. Isaiah, you are second in command, keep George in-line, your sisters’ look up to you and George as role models. Be a good example. Dolly, my little princess, you’re right, we will see each other again soon," he tousled his son's hair, and then took a strand of Dolly's hair twirling it affectionately through his fingers. He cradled Alison gently in his arms and gazed at his sleeping daughter. "I don't have any advice for you tadpole. You won't remember me when I come back. I will save my advice until I return." Colin gazed around the room at the faces looking back at him. His worldly treasures stood before him. It was breaking his heart, but it broke his heart every other time also, somehow, this time, it was different.

“Papa, Papa,” shouted George.

“Yes, my big man.”

“One day I’m going to get married and have children, and I will name my oldest son after you. He’ll name his oldest after you. You will always be able to find us because there will always be a Colin Harcourt, Papa.”

"I think that is probably the most enjoyable thing I’ve ever heard, Son, and I promise you I will always know where my grandchildren are and how they are doing, even if they don’t know me. Now my little ruffians, if you don't mind, I need to spend a little time alone." He handed his children an envelope as he hugged them. "Please wait for a few days before you open your envelope. Beth, you need to be with your children now. I need some alone time." Colin held up his hand to stop any argument. "I love you, Beth Olsen Harcourt, always remember that."

Beth stroked Dolly’s hair, as she turned away from her husband. "I love you too. Please come back."

"I promise to return. Close the door as you leave please." Colin sat on his bed for a few minutes, wishing he could stay. He stumbled to the window and quietly opened it. Taking one last look, he placed an envelope on the windowsill. He hesitated for a brief second before returning the envelope to his pocket, crawled out the window and walked up the drive. It was a gorgeous January day in the year 1819. Colin didn't know where he was going. He knew that the scarab would lead him where it wanted him to be.

"What was in the envelopes?" Sally asked.

"The letters to my children, I just told them how much I loved them. The letter to Beth said much the same thing. However, the letter to my wife said I wished her luck and happiness. And she should remarry."

"But you promised you were gonna come back." Sally insisted.

"I wrote the letter before I promised to return that's why I didn't leave it. I’ll be honest. I would not return, even after I made the promise. I changed my mind just before I leaped out of that window. Should I say the Scarab changed my mind?”

The barge Colin hired in Cincinnati to take him down the Ohio River was full of cattle and families heading west to carve out a new life wherever fortune led them. Colin traveled with no particular destination in mind.

The hot August sun beat down on him unmercifully. The stench of human sweat turned his stomach. It had been almost eight months since he left his family behind. He thought of them every day. He missed them so much, more than ever before. Watching the families on the barge didn't help matters. He had lost track of how long they had been floating lazily westward, but the tedious smooth water lulled him into a false sense of security. Huge Rapids showed up out of nowhere, unsettling the livestock while sending panic through him and the families. The pilot nonchalantly guided his barge through the rapids as if they were loose waves.

"We will be in Perry County, Indiana within a few minutes. A crew member informed the families and Colin. “We will stop for a while to deliver the mail. You can all get off and stretch your legs there. Don't wander off. The stay will be brief."

Colin saw a young boy fishing by the banks of the river. The boy appeared to be George's age. The lad also seemed more intent on a book propped in his lap instead of fishing. His heart ached at the sight of the boy. The scarab told him he had reached his destination. He wrestled with the Scarab's choice, but to no avail. If the scarab wanted him in some God-forsaken, backwoods hole in the ground, then that's where he would stay until told otherwise by his curse.

Colin sauntered up to the captain, timing each step with the sway of the barge, "I won't be joining you on your journey."

The captain, self-absorbed on the task at hand, didn't look at Colin when he said, “Mr. Harcourt, you have paid to go to Memphis on the Mississippi. This is a far-sight from there."

"I am sorry, but something came up."

"Suit yourself. There are no refunds," the captain responded by throwing the tie-rope to men on a flimsy looking dock.

Colin gathered his nap-sack and stepped onto the dock, surprised it held together. He gathered his bearings and headed upstream to the young lad. Winded and out of breath, he walked the first two miles. After about another mile, Colin came to a clearing. Sure enough, the lad remained on the banks of the river. His fishing pole, no longer in the river, sat unattended near the boy. The boy lay on his stomach. His head buried in a book as Colin approached. The boy, startled by the footsteps, bounced up and clutched the book behind his back.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Son." The young boy stood motionless. "I seem to be lost."

The boy peered up the river and then down the river. "You ain't lost. I saw you on the barge. State your business. Afore I call for my pa."

"I confess I have no idea what my business is. The scarab led me here," he said showing the young boy his necklace. "What's your name?"

The boy's curiosity got the better of him, and he took a few steps forward to look at a different kind of necklace. "Name is Abraham. Most call me Abe. I turned ten last February. Where didja get that?" he asked pointing at the necklace.

"Do you like stories?" Colin sat cross-legged, toying with the fishing pole.

"I love reading, too. I'll read most anything." Abe said placing the pole out of the stranger’s reach.

Colin glanced at him. "Where's your father?"

"He's probably huntin' or courtin' widow Johnston," Abe said, moving a little further from the stranger.

Colin glanced at the tree line.  "You don't go hunting with your father? Where is your mother?"

Abe gathered his belongings but answered the stranger’s question. "Nah I don't like huntin.' I shot me a wild turkey two years ago, and I felt so gaud-awful after that, I decided then and there that I would never again harm a living creature. And Mom died of milk sickness last October.” Abe thumbed through his book, and said, “She passed just before a horse kicked me in the head. They thought I was dead, but I wasn't. I really shouldn’t talk to strangers. "

Colin handed Abe the fishing pole. "I mean you no harm. I have a son your age, and I miss him dearly.”

Abe stared at the river and then Colin. "Sara’s my sister. She's been acting like my mother since Ma passed. Where didja get it?"

Colin smiled and patted the ground next to him. "Have a seat, Abe. I will tell you a story. Keep in mind that the story is one-hundred percent truth." Colin sat on a stump while young Abe sat on the ground with his knees tucked under his chin. "The story began many years ago. It started when I accompanied a Duke and a few Earls on a dangerous quest. Have you heard of the Crusades?"  Abe nodded his head. "Good, the archbishop gave me a letter to deliver to his friend..."

Wide-eyed Abe asked, "You knew George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and all those famous people? I wish I could've been there. It would help me when I become a teacher."

Colin drew his knees to his chest. "You want to be a teacher?"

"Either that or a lawyer, but I only got about eighteen months of book learning." Abe mused.

"I have a feeling you will be great at whatever you choose to do. Have you ever thought of politics?" Colin lowered his legs to the ground and placed his hands flat on the grass behind him.

"Nah, look at me, I got the face of a monkey. I'm awkward, gangly, and wholly unsuited for politicking." A voice rang through the trees. "That's pa. I gotta go. It was a pleasure talkin' to you."

"Nah, I think the scarab got what it wanted. I don’t know why, but I get a feeling you would make a great senator, maybe an office bigger than that. Promise you will think about politics," Colin said firmly.

"I'll mull it over," Abe said as he ran toward his pa's voice.

"What's your last name, Abe?" Colin yelled at the scurrying boy.

Abe turned as he got to the tree line and cupped his hands to his mouth, "Lincoln. I doubt you'll hear much of me in your future," he yelled back. "Abe Lincoln son of Thomas and Nancy Lincoln," his voice faded into the trees.