ABRAHAM

Michelle Timberlake was uneasy as she drove toward her home in the hills of the Ozark mountains near Fort Smith, Arkansas. It was late, there was no other traffic on the road and the sudden summer thunder storm was more intense than usual. Each flash of lightning seemed closer than the last as the rain threatened to make the road impassable. "I should have driven straight home after work, rather than stopping by to see Mother," Michelle breathed to herself as she braked for a sharp turn in the road.

As Michelle’s car rounded the turn, her sense of foreboding turned into reality. Her headlights caught the large tree lying across the road too late. Even though she avoided a disastrous collision, she could not remain on the pavement, and the car came to rest in the middle of a pile of gravel, drive wheels suspended uselessly above the ditch beyond.

As life slowly ebbed from the stricken automobile, and the headlights faded, the shadows seemed to close in on a very frightened young woman. So intense was her discomfort that one of the shadows seemed to detach itself from the others and actually move toward her. Then she felt the car move, and a cry of terror rose in her throat, as her vehicle returned to the road by what seemed to be super natural power. And then Michelle saw him, a small, woefully bedraggled man, carefully checking the underside of the car for damage, signaling her to restart the car, waiting to assure all was in order - and then retreating into the darkness.

Reason returned to Michelle quickly and her training as an emergency medical technician took over. Before the small man could disappear, she was out of the car, had him wrapped in a warm blanket and installed safely in the back seat. He was too weak to resist.

The rest of the trip was completed in silence. In fact, the stranger said nothing for the following seven days that it took Michelle to nurture him back to passable health.

Finally the stranger spoke, "You have been very kind to me, but I must, be on my way. Thank you for your hospitality. Goodbye. "

"'Wait," cried Michelle, "at least tell me who you are and where you will go.”


"I am sorry," the man replied in a subdued voice, "I cannot tell you. Please, I must go now."

"But sir, you MUST tell me. I cannot rest until I know who you are."

"Nor can I," sighed the stranger. "I cannot tell you, for I cannot remember myself. I only know that I have family and friends somewhere whom I must find. For I feel that I have done some great wrong toward them."

Michelle gently pulled the sad stranger toward her, placed her hands on his shoulders and implored, "Please let me help you. I am an investigative reporter as well as an "EMT" and have many contacts among the press and in the medical community. I am sure we can help you find your family. But until we do, you must have a name. I will call you Abraham."

Weeks passed. Michelle developed a genuine affection for this man, but little information about him. He seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Yet, she would not give up. For Abraham had become, in many ways, the father she had never really known. Her father had left her and her mother when she was but three. Her mother had been so heartbroken that she had been confined to a mental institution since that time.

One day Michelle received a phone call from Dr. Larsen at the institution. Her mother was having one of her rare lucid periods and was calling for her. "Come with me, Abraham," pleaded Michelle. "My mother will be acting almost normally and you will not be uncomfortable. Besides, Dr. Larsen believes he can help you. The more you refuse to see him, the more evident it is to me that you really don't want to know who you are. For the sake of your family and friends, you must face your past."

Abraham reluctantly agreed to go. As they approached the hospital, however, he became more and more apprehensive. The brief flashes of memory that had haunted him for so long came and left; glimpses of his past too fragmented to have any real meaning.

They entered the hospital room softly. Michelle's mother sat by the window, her back turned toward the door. Standing beside her was an old man talking to her in low tones. "Mother, I have come", whispered Michelle as she went to her mother's side and gently embraced her.

"Oh, Michelle," her mother cried, "Why must I stay here? Please take me home to your father."

It's all right, Mother. It's all right. Remember? We moved away from home years ago when Daddy left us." Michelle smiled brightly. "Mother, I want you to meet someone. I call him Abraham. He has been like a father to me these past few months and I have brought him so that Dr. Larsen can help him remember his past."

Michelle's mother turned in her chair and smiled at Abraham. Her eyes clouded with confusion, then cleared in sudden recognition Gregory, Gregory", she cried.

"Gregory?" Michelle asked.

"Yes, yes" her mother replied joyfully. "This is your father, Gregory Timberlake.”

"Gregory? Father?" Abraham was terribly confused. These people could not possibly be his family. And yet, this woman seemed to know who he was.

The man who has been talking to Michelle's mother stepped out of the shadows. "Yes, Gregory", he said, "I also know you. I am the high priest of the Shawnee. It was I who revealed your true destiny years ago. You are Altus II, albino god of the Shawnee. The priest opened Abraham's shirt and pointed to a tiny white scar.

Memory flooded in to Gregory’s mind. His childhood, his education, his wife and daughter and, most painfully of all, his shame before the high priest as his destiny was denied him because of his vanity in having the sacred mark of the tick removed from his body. He embraced his family. And he wept with joy - and with shame.


"Please forgive me," he pleaded. "I know I should not have abandoned you, but so ashamed was I for having dishonored the name of Altus that I could not bear to remain with those I had hurt. I must have been wandering without memory or name for a long time."

"Twenty long years," whispered his wife.

A strong, practiced hand touched Gregory. Dr. Larsen spoke. "Your family and friends have told me your story, Gregory. I have come to help you. It was my father whom you asked to remove the mark of the tick so many years ago. But he could not. He was aware of the legend of Altus, and knew the significance of the mark. So he deceived you."

Dr. Larsen took a bottle of solvent from his pocket, soaked a cotton swab and gently applied it to Gregory's scar. The scar immediately softened and fell away, a piece of cleverly applied latex, which had done its job. And there revealed was the sacred mark of Altus.

Gregory turned and the aging priest stood before him holding the golden robe of Altus. The priest bowed and proclaimed, "Oh, great Altus, albino God of the Shawnee, all of Oklahoma lies before you. Go and fulfill your destiny.

"Wait," said Gregory, "what of your proclamation years ago, that I had forever lost my destiny?"

"It is true, I did say that," replied the old man as he placed the robe on Gregory's shoulders," Yet, those wiser than myself are in control. You have been allowed to wander without name and without purpose for many years, reunited with your family and your destiny only after you reached out and unselfishly began giving again, wanting nothing for yourself. You have learned a valuable lesson, oh great one, that you must always remember and pass on to your subjects. It is not for us to decide when the struggle is over. We must endure, regardless of what comes, and leave the final result in the hands of those who know our hearts best. Now, go, my son. Go in peace and rule with kindness and compassion."

end

EPILOGUE

Because of his compassion and great love for everyone, Altus chose not to regain Oklahoma for his people, but to see them peacefully integrated into a productive society. Thus, the presence of Altus II and his influence on the world is known only to those who have heard his story. And, oh, yes, not every yarn has to end with a chuckle. The last laugh is reserved for another day.

Regards,

Wee Willie of Virginia