Ch11-Abe Lincoln at Last!

CHAPTER ELEVEN Abe Lincoln at Last! Jack and Annie looked around in a daze. They were under the trees near the tree house, standing in the same spot where they'd sipped the potion. The air was chilly but bright. A fresh breeze rustled the branches. "The magic ended," said Jack, stunned. "It ended before we could complete our mission."

"I know," Annie said. "And we didn't get to say good-bye to Sam." "I didn't even thank him for the quill pen and the ink," said Jack. "I know. These were his treasures," said Annie. She held up the goose feather and the ink jar that Sam had given them. "Wait, that's so weird," said Jack. "We're looking for a feather, and Sam gives us a pen made out of a feather—" Annie gasped. "Look, Jack!" She pointed toward the carriageway. A tall man in a dark coat and a high black hat was striding toward the grove of trees. He turned his head, as if he were searching for something. "At last!" said Jack. "Mr. President!" Annie called. She thrust the quill pen and ink bottle back into her pocket and ran toward Abraham Lincoln. "Wait!" said Jack, running after her. "What'll we say?" "We'll figure it out!" said Annie. "Mr. President!"

Abraham Lincoln turned and looked in their direction. He froze and stared at them, as if he were both astonished and afraid. What's wrong with him? thought Jack. As they got closer to the president, Jack and Annie slowed to a walk. Abraham Lincoln kept staring at them as if they were ghosts. "Hello, sir," Annie said shyly. Jack was speechless. The creases in the president's face gave him a deeply worried look. His gray eyes stared at them

without blinking. "So it is you," he said in a hushed voice. "Tad told me your names, but I could not believe it might really be you." "What do you mean?" Annie asked. "You don't know who I am?" he said. "You're Abraham Lincoln," said Annie. "President of the United States." "Yes, but I spent the day with you once long ago," said the president. "And you vanished, right before my eyes." "We did?" said Annie. "Outside our log cabin in Indiana," said the president. "Indiana?" said Jack. "Yes, it was the day my father brought my stepmother home—and my new sisters and brother." "Oh… oh!" said Annie. "What?" said Jack. "You were Sam!" said Annie. "You were Sam?" said Jack. He couldn't believe it. The president nodded.

Annie laughed. "So when we told you we were looking for Abraham Lincoln, you played a prank on us and told us your name was Sam!" Abraham Lincoln smiled. "I haven't seen you since that day so long ago," he said. "And you haven't changed at all. I don't understand. Are you angels? Are you a dream?" Jack was too stunned to answer. It wasn't long ago, it was today, he thought. Or—maybe not. Time and magic were confusing things. "We're just regular kids, not angels," said Annie. "But maybe you should think of it all as a dream—a dream with a little magic thrown in." Abraham Lincoln nodded slowly. Then he smiled. "I remember you tried to do my chores," he said, "and you thought some wild creature was chasing you. And you told me that your interjections were 'Oh, wow!' and 'Oh, man!'" "Right," said Jack, smiling. "You also said you loved learning and you loved to read," said the president. "And you loved to write stories." "And you said you loved to do that, too," said Annie. "So you gave us these." She pulled the ink

bottle and the quill pen out of her apron pocket. "These were yours once, remember?" Abraham Lincoln stared at the ink bottle and feather pen. "Yes," he said. "I made them from blackberry roots and a goose feather." "Oh, man," whispered Jack. For the first time it fully dawned on him that Sam—who was really Abraham Lincoln—had given them a feather! The rhyme was starting to make perfect sense! "Why have you come back?" asked the president. Now Jack knew exactly what to say. "We have to give you a message of hope," he answered. He reached for the notebook in his pocket. "Jack's right," said Annie. "Just a second." She opened the ink bottle and dipped the goose-feather pen into the ink. Then she handed the pen to Jack. "What should we say?" she whispered. "Well, the Civil War is going to have a good ending," Jack whispered back. "All the country will come together." "With freedom for everybody," whispered Annie.