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Poetry Contest Winners

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poetryIn April, Clermont County Public Library celebrated National Poetry Month with a poetry contest.  On May 6th, the New Richmond branch library, and River City Writers’ Group, hosted our first annual poetry reading.  Here are the 1st place winning poems in the youth and adult categories.

I Am and Nothing More

By youth winner, Tiffany Fite

I am the harmony

I am the melody

I am the tenor of voice

I am the sunshine

I am the darkness

I am the gray of the dawn

I am a quiet moment

I am a lioness roar

I am also none of these things

I am and nothing more

 

The Moon is My Companion

By Lisa Brandstetter Holt

She is a silent chaperone,

A quiet presence ever known

as reflected light, a wave’s flight,

caught atop firs that cool the night.

 

Her weight, I sense within my bones

caressing me with miles of stone.

I carry her less well these days,

a willow bending with her phase.

 

Amid a velvet sky so starred,

our surfaces are pocked and marred.

Our atmospheres are cold and spare,

with rigid hearts, this lea is bare.

 

Yet she has guided all below

with gentle pull and tender glow.

Though far away from those a tilt,

she makes her loving presence felt.

 

A faithful friend, she does abide

when no one else is by my side,

when my house is not a home.

Sequestered, yes, but not alone.

 

 

 

Thank You, Grandpa – Honorable Mention for the Short Story Contest

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By Tom Gumbert

“Goodness,” Rachel said watching his fingers work the dirt. She stared at the wriggling digits as they pawed, clawed, pushed and prodded through the rich topsoil of the family cemetery. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you this energetic. Thank you, Grandpa.” She touched the headstone with her fingertips. “Hard to believe it’s been twenty years. I was six years old on that hot August day when Daddy passed. I was exploring the woods around your farm, playing in the creek and discovering the wonders of crawdads and tadpoles when Grandma called. I knew something was wrong. She sounded…scared.” Leaning forward she brushed away algae from her daddy’s headstone. “Strange, how now I can only recall snippets of the conversation with Grandma. An ‘accident,’ I remember her calling it. ‘Serious—chainsaw—your father.’” She sat back on her legs and looked over at him. “What I do remember vividly is the burial. There was the preacher, you and grandma, and the gravedigger. The pine casket rested in the open grave and at the conclusion of the service, you, looking handsome in your new Sears suit,” she smiled at him, “picked up a clump of dirt, crumbled it and let it fall onto the casket. “That night a terrible thunderstorm rolled through and I’m not sure if it was the fury of the storm or the thought of Daddy, cold in the ground, trying to dig his way out that kept me awake.” She shrugged. “I slipped into your room, curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed and fell asleep. When I woke, I was in the bed, wrapped in the bedsheet Grandma used as a summer blanket. Sunlight filled the room and I could hear Grandma downstairs. “I learned later that you had found me on the floor and put me into your bed. For the next two years it was the only place I felt comfortable enough to sleep. Then Grandma died.” She thought she heard a muffled cry and looked toward him, the fingers now still. “I know it’s painful,” she whispered, “but we have to do this. It’s best for both of us.” Rachel adjusted her sitting position, pulling her legs from under her and stretching them out over the grass. “Grandma was buried next to Daddy on an inappropriately beautiful summer day. We stayed at the gravesite until it was completely filled and before leaving, you planted daisies on either side of the headstone, grooming the dirt with your hands.” She looked and smiled as his fingers again starting working the dirt. “From that day forward it was just the two of us. Mom, I know—a forbidden subject, had disappeared when I was a baby, so it was you who raised me through the transformation from little girl to young woman. Thank you, Grandpa.” His muffled response caught her attention and she noticed his fingers stopped. “Tired? I don’t imagine they let you work in those well-manicured gardens at the home. Pity. I remember how much you enjoyed working with your hands.” They sat in silence, Rachel lighting a cigarette and enjoying the warmth of the late spring sun. “I should have come for you sooner,” she admitted. “That group home was no place for you.” He was still and she wondered what he might be thinking. Looking at the headstones she was struck by how faded her memories were of her father and grandmother and by the fact that she knew absolutely nothing about her Aunt Ellen, who died at age twelve and whom no one ever spoke. Taking another draw on her cigarette she extinguished it against the headstone and dropped it in her pocket. “It’s nice up here, I see why you picked this spot.” Kneeling, she reached out, gently touching his fingers. They wriggled at her touch and she smiled. “It must have been tough for you after Grandma died,” she acknowledged, “trying to raise me by yourself while dealing with the loss of your wife and son, so recently departed.” She shook her head. “The county wanted to take me away but they underestimated you. They didn’t know the strength of your determination, didn’t understand you had a plan.” She sat back, pulling her legs to her chest, struggling to keep her emotions under control. “You made me who I am; taught me so much and you probably don’t even realize it. Thank you, Grandpa.” Spying a four-leaf clover she plucked it, twirling it between her forefinger and thumb. “My lucky day,” she said, “finding you after ten years. Oh don’t worry,” she said noticing his fingers stiffen, “you’ll never go back there. Not after all the trouble I went through to spring you.” “Institutions are for the helpless and the insane,” she said a smile frozen on her face, “and you’re not helpless and I’m not insane.” She stood and stared down at him. “But you know that. You knew it when you were molesting me, but that didn’t stop you from telling people I was. All part of your plan,” Rachel said pacing now. “And it worked beautifully. They would have put me away had I not runaway,” she laughed. “‘She’s troubled,’ people said, ‘and the abuse self-inflicted.’ Who would ever suspect you, the kindly grandfather? Ah, you played the part so well.” She shook her head smiling. “I applaud you,” she said clapping her hands together. “Brilliant acting; another lesson you unknowingly taught me. Thank you, Grandpa.” She toed the rigid fingers poking through the grave—still no movement. “Then it’s done.” She relit her cigarette, took a long drag, held it and finally exhaled. “What a day,” she said looking at the sky. “So much work but so worth it. When you first realized who I was—the look on your face—priceless!” She ground out the tip of the cigarette against his fingers. “Thank you, Grandpa.”

Unrevealed – Honorable Mention for the Short Story Contest

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By Gary Presley

The father breathed deeply and slowly as his youngest son, Jeremy, sat down at the table for dinner. The rest of his family understood and respected his decision to stay out of it, and did what they could to conduct their business with him on the periphery, but Jeremy continued to ask, to cajole, to hound him to join in. Dinnertime, with all family members in attendance and all recording devices slurping real life into their digital bellies, was Jeremy’s bully pulpit. Contractually under the new law, the man had chosen not be shown or heard on any platform, giving the ten-year-old’s nightly pleadings a monologistic flavor. But it enhanced the ratings, views, clicks and time-shifted perusals of the dinners, as the public’s desire grew to learn more about this man they were forbidden to see or hear.

And it began.

“How was your day, father?” The man always smiled at Jeremy’s opening, which was different each dinner. The video monitor by the kitchen door showed an uptick on Jeremy’s feed. Jenny typed something on her phone, and the monitor showed her following rise as well. The click-whoring had begun.

“Leave Dad alone,” Jenny said. “You ruin every dinner trying to get him to go viral, and you know he won’t.” Small spike.

The family LOL’d at Jeremy’s practiced stunned, hurt look. “I am not. You think I’m too young to understand The Privacy Rights Act, but I’m not. I do understand it, I just want him to be part of the family.”

Lois, coming in from the kitchen with the pot roast, tsk-tsked as she set it on the table. “Your father is part of the family, Jeremy. What you want is for him to be part of your feed.” The line on the monitor that showed Lois’s approval rating nudged up. “Is that fair? Did you help your friend Billy last week when his ratings fell and he needed a boost?”

Sufficiently scolded, Jeremy tapped on his phone. His rating among peers spiked briefly, although his approval among married women 37-45 dropped significantly.

Lois sat down. “Everyone silence your devices and hold hands,” she said. They all tapped, then took the hands of the person on either side, and sat quietly, some with eyes closed, for a few moments. Ratings, approvals and trends flickered silently on the monitor. Phones and tablets sat beside plates, saying nothing but flowing with increased excitement. “Now eat!” she said.

“Oh, crap,” said John, at 17 their oldest son, a fan favorite with his shaggy, dark hair and bright eyes. “I forgot my afternoon reveal. It’ll only take a few minutes. School was pretty dull today. Mom?”

Lois sighed. Her husband rolled his eyes. “Oh, all right. Does anyone else need to reveal?” she asked, to mumbled “no’s” and “uh-uh’s” around the table.

There was a minute of unusual silence while serving bowls were passed before Tara, 16, blonde and bright, said quietly, “I broke up with Lance today.”

The wall monitor was like fireworks. Off camera, the father shook his head. On camera, the mother again tsked.

“I’m sorry, Tara. I hope they don’t run a poll to see who your next boyfriend should be,” Lois said, checking her tablet while buttering a roll. “Oh, dear.”

Jenny smirked and held up her phone near Tara. “Too late. Nathan Sponsell!”

“Girls!” Lois said. “You know your father likes the old mating rituals.”

It was true, he thought, he did. It gave time to talk about what was good and bad about the ex-boyfriend before diving into the new one. And it was private. He liked private, but he was no cave-dwelling technophobe. He had a phone. He used it to call friends so they could get together in a real place (“meat space,” his kids called it). And talk, face to face. Unabbreviated, unfiltered, unplugged. Why did he still call it “unplugged” when everything was wireless and battery operated, he wondered.

“Nathan’s not so bad,” Tara said. “Hey! He’s already sent me a text to ask me out. How old-fashioned!”

Everyone laughed, even the dad, and everyone tapped something into a device, except the dad. John retook his seat, having wrapped his afternoon reveal.

At his end of the table, Jeremy tapped something into his phone, then sat back. On the monitor the slope of his clicks-per-minute line started tilting toward vertical. His mother gasped. “What have you done?” then checked her tablet. “Jeremy?”

John checked his phone, then grabbed Jeremy’s phone and tapped angrily while Jeremy tried to grab the phone back. On the monitor, Jeremy’s clicks line returned to its previous level.

John handed the phone back. “Don’t be a punk,” he said. “They’ll let you off now because you’re ten, but if you do that after your birthday,” he paused, almost sputtered, “well, I don’t know what they’ll do to you, but it won’t be fun.”

The father looked down the table at Jeremy, then across to John, and cocked his head slightly.

“He posted a photo of you laughing just now,” John said. “I’m pretty sure I scrubbed it from all the sites before it rooted in the servers, and I blurred your face on the rest. I don’t think he understands The Privacy Rights Act as well as he thinks he does.”

Jeremy sat silently and glanced at the monitor, not quite smirking, looking satisfied.

“The law is the least of his worries,” Lois said, tapping quickly onto her tablet. “Nothing but inbound data for you for the next two weeks, mister. And there’s a whole backyard of leaves with your name on each and every one of them.”

Jeremy slumped, but Jenny grinned. “Swift justice with two weeks of real-world labor. Love it.” She thumb-typed a few sentences on her phone that showed up on the monitor, ending with LMFAO.

“Watch your language, young lady, we’re at the dinner table,” Lois said.

The father smiled, and reached for the carrots.

Wedding Dress – Writing Contest Honorable Mention

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By Edith Center

June 1, 2004 She had come to the attic looking for a hiding place. It was their wedding eve. After the rehearsal dinner, the wedding party had returned to the manor house, for the wedding would take place in the manor’s formal gardens the next morning. They had been sitting in the conservatory, conversation meandering from topic to topic, when someone remarked, “This house must have some marvelous hiding places.” Geoff replied he, his brothers, and their friends had played many games of hide and seek here when children. Before long, it was decided a game of hide and seek would be the perfect way to end the evening. Thus she came to be in the attic. She had grown up on ghost stories and was well aware of the tale of the ghost bride who, while playing this very game on her wedding night, hid in a trunk in the attic – which became her tomb. Different time, different place. But there was no way she would hide in a trunk. Then she saw the cedar chest, standing by itself in the cluttered attic. It captured her attention and she quickly forgot the game. It was beautifully hand carved. Why had it been banished to the attic? Why did it stand alone when everything else was jumbled together, fighting for space? It seemed even the dust and cobwebs avoided the chest. Mesmerized, she slowly made her way across the room. She stood in front of the chest, trying to gather courage to touch it – perhaps open it. – - – Geoff noticed the door to the attic was open and the light was on. Everyone had been found. Except Lynn. He called to her from the bottom of the stairs. “Lynn.” No response. And, for a moment, he too remembered the tale of the ghost bride. He took the steps two at a time and was relieved when he saw her on the other side of the room. Feeling a little foolish for allowing his imagination to get the best of him, he called again. “Lynn?” Still no response. He walked over to her, touched her shoulder. “Carolynn, are you all right?” She turned to him. “Oh, Geoffrey. Did you say something?” Concerned now, he replied, “Yes. I asked if you were all right. You certainly seem deep in thought.” “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Geoff nodded. “It belonged to my great-grandmother. According to family tales, she died shortly after grandfather was born. The family was appalled when great-grandfather married grandfather’s nanny immediately after the one-year mourning period. They had several children, all of whom died before reaching 21. Superstitious family members said it was a curse because of their unseemly haste in marrying. You see, great-grandmother was just days away from her 21st birthday. Some even said it would be the end of great-grandfather’s line. Obviously, that didn’t happen. All of grandfather’s children lived and prospered. And my brothers and I are hale and hearty. So you needn’t worry. The ‘curse’ has been put to rest.” Lynn had been staring at the cedar chest while Geoff spoke and now, more than ever, she wanted to know what was inside. She touched the lid, then looked at Geoff. He smiled and nodded. The chest wasn’t full. But Lynn didn’t notice. For on the top, wrapped in layers of tissue, was Geoff’s great-grandmother’s wedding dress. Lynn held it up, admiring the exquisite beadwork and delicate lace. Inside a small, drawstring bag were earrings, a necklace, and gloves. In a separate bag, was the Bible she had carried, and in another were her shoes. Geoff finally touched her arm and said softly, “We should be getting back to the others.” She nodded and reluctantly returned the items to the trunk. – - – Everyone eventually went to their rooms. The house became dark and quiet. But Lynn couldn’t sleep. The wedding dress seemed to have a hold on her. She finally gave in and crept up to the attic. She opened the chest and took the dress and accessories to her room. She was not surprised to find them a perfect fit – and determined to wear them. – - – She noted the surprise on Geoff’s face as she started down the aisle. But it turned instantly to delight, and he was smiling broadly when she joined him. After the ceremony, they greeted their guests as they slowly made their way back down the aisle. Geoff’s great-grandfather had arrived from the nursing home after the ceremony had begun. So as not to disturb anyone, his nurse placed his wheelchair by the last row. With both his eyesight and hearing virtually gone, his attendance at the wedding was a mere formality. As Geoff and Lynn came close enough for him to see them clearly, the smile on his face fled, replaced by a look of shock and horror. “No! No! It can’t be! Oh, Caroline. My Caroline. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I never wanted to hurt you. She said it was the only way – the only way we could be together. She said the poison would be painless. That you’d just fall asleep. She promised to care for the baby as if he were her own. Caroline, Caroline, please forgive me.” He leaned forward, reaching out his hands in pleading, then collapsed back into his chair. – - – When Geoff and Lynn returned from their honeymoon, Geoff’s mother said, “I have something you should see. We found it in the cedar chest when we replaced the wedding things.” She led them into the library, where an old photograph was lying on the desk. Geoff and Lynn picked up the wedding picture of Geoff’s great-grandparents. The bride was enchanting in her beautiful dress and the groom stood beside her, proud and handsome in his somber suit. But the faces staring back at them were their own. And on the back, written in precise script, was the notation: Jeffrey and Caroline June 2, 1930

About the Author: Ben Filla

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ben filla

Ben Filla, winner of Clermont County Public Library’s Short Story Contest.

Profile by: Adam Baker, Clermont Co. Public Library Communications Manager 

Story ideas come easy for Ben Filla, an instructor in the Business Information Technology program at UC-Clermont. However, it’s the follow-through that seems to give him the most trouble.

“I have many, many stories partially written,” Filla said. “Your contest was great in that it encouraged me to just go ahead and try.”

His passion for writing began about 10 years ago. Before moving to Batavia with his wife and five boys, Filla was an admissions counselor at Miami University Middleton. There, he started a film club on campus where he worked with students to create short films. However, his creativity didn’t stop there.

“I was left with a lot of story ideas, but a limited crew to get stuff made,” he said. “I kind of decided that maybe it’d be better to focus on stories, because writing, at least initially, requires just me.”

The idea for his winning entry, “Bobby Darin, Take Me Home” came to him during a recent car ride.

“Something triggered in me the question: What if I had a memory of a place with someone I loved very much, but could never go back to that exact moment in time?” he said. “How would I feel if it was impossible to relive it in the same way, with the same person?”

While crafting the story, he tapped into childhood experiences for inspiration.

“As a kid I’d tag along when my stepdad would take his mother to weekly doctor’s appointments and I remember thinking how fragile she seemed,” Filla said.

One memory in particular helped him paint a key scene at the end of his story.

“I used to play in an orchard just outside of Chardon, Ohio when I visited my grandma’s farm,” he said. “That whole area has grown up considerably, but you can still see the clock tower on Chardon Square from miles away.”

As for the Bobby Darin song he used in the story, Filla credits a little bit of fate for that.

“When I write I sometimes listen to music that I think fits the genre of what I’m trying to capture,” he said. “I was listening to big band music and just happened to hear Beyond the Sea at just the right time in my thinking process, and it seemed to pull it all together nicely.”

Winner of the Short Story Contest

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Ben Filla wrote the winning entry for our short story contest. This is  his story, “Bobby Darin, Take Me Home”. Congratulations, Ben!

Frank Meeks was old. At ninety, he’d outlived all of his friends, and sadly, even his wife. All he had left was a son, who was aged and retired himself. He felt as though he might never die. His doctors kept cleaning his blood and would tell him absurd things like, “Mr. Meeks, you’ve got the body of a man half your age – you may live forever!” Condescending pleasantries he thought, but he understood they were trying to keep things light. The irony was he’d had rheumatic fever as a child which left him with a weakened heart, and he probably should have died years ago. It was always the same on Saturday mornings. His son would come by the nursing home early, around seven o’clock. Most days Frank was awake and moving before day break. When he was a working man, he’d get up and enjoy his black coffee and cigarette as the birds began their morning chorus. Of course he gave up the cigarettes long ago when his Rosie got sick. Everyone said she’d outlive everyone – she had been a model of health. Never smoked, rarely drank. But it seems cancer can find you even if you eat your greens and walk every morning. It leveled her, squeezing her breath away. It shattered him. He was dressed in the same clothes he always wore. The same style he’d been wearing in the twenty-three years she’d been gone – simple white cotton V-neck t-shirt that comes in a pack of three and a pair of blue jeans. It probably wasn’t really a style. No, the jeans were flat and square in a sky blue polyester. Probably just blue pants. Rosie had lovingly joked that he was in a class of his own. “Just need to make a quick stop dad,” his son said once they finished up at the doctor’s. “Oh?” Frank wondered. “My order came in this week and I’ve been meaning to pick it up,” his son explained as he parked in the expansive lot. They were at one of those big box stores. Gone were the days of getting to know the neighborhood clerks and pride in buying local. Frank understood the value of a dollar but was proudly American. “I’ll just stay here,” Frank muttered in a delayed response. Funny how your brain can do that. He heard the question, but it kind of hung there and didn’t process until his mind had come back around to the moment. “I’ll just stay here,” he mumbled again. The dialysis made him tired. He was nodding in and out, eyes jarring open at every little sound. A car horn bellowed in the distance and his eyes shot open. He let out a breath and a puzzled expression formed across his brow. Old and tired. Frank pressed the satellite radio button that played his favorites. It always took him back to happier times, and he’d be lying to say there wasn’t a part of him that missed the way things used to be. That part of him grew bigger every day. A jazzy brass tune filled the van, and now with his seat comfortably reclined, his eyes closed a bit easier. Another distant honk, and he startled again. Cars full of families, trucks making deliveries. His eyes followed the busyness along. Through the hustle and bustle, Frank could barely make out the lake on the horizon below. The town really had changed. The music switched tempo, and he was taken aback. The velvety voice of Bobby Darin came through the surround speakers. “Beyond the Sea” had been their song, and suddenly she was right there. It was like Rosie was sitting there with him. He hadn’t heard their song in years. “I think this is the spot,” he spoke quietly through his fingers, thoughtfully pinching his bottom lip. There was the expansive court house to the east and the Presbyterian steeple, now peeking over a fast food restaurant, to the north. This was, or had been, the orchard Rosie and he came to when they first started dating. “I’ll be…,” he trailed off in his memory. This was the apple orchard where he worked a summer, the summer he met her. “Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me,” she had said. She’d jest when that Andrews Sisters’ song came on in the old farm truck, but it was the sound of Bobby Darin that always moved her a bit closer to him. A full smile crept up his cheek. What a beautiful person she was. So happy, so vibrant. Vivacious. She brought him to life. He lived off the energy of the people around him, and her energy was infectious. Yes, he was positive this was their orchard. They were so young then. Her skin was soft and flawless with freckles, smiley eyes – eyes that had always reminded him of the brilliant hot springs of Yellowstone, an amazing azure center with myriad hues fringing the edges. And her hair, soft and red with little curls and flips here or there. She was always trying to straighten it out a bit, but he loved how it never could quite follow her directions. She was perfect. Ah, this song. His heart sang along. “Dream Boat”, she’d call him as they sat on the hill and watched the ships come up from the seaway toward the port. “Where do you want to go? I’ll take you anywhere,” he’d whisper to her. “Cyprus? Sicily? Santorini?” She’d giggle. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Take me to all those places. Take me beyond the sea Frankie.” The din of the traffic was now gone and Bobby Darin was all he heard. “…She’s there watching for me…” “…My heart will lead me there soon…” “…Happy we’ll be beyond the sea.” His son opened the van door. “Ready to go home dad?”, but Frank was already there. His heart had taken him home.

 

1967 Music and Library Memories

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In 1967, the Bethel Library, founded in 1929 by the Bethel Women’s Club and housed in the Grant Memorial Building, officially became a Branch of the Clermont County Public Library system.

What music were you listening to in 1967?  Do you remember these Grammy Award winners?

And how about these top hits and artists?

Come share your music and library memories from 1967 to the present on Saturday, August 11, 2012 when the Bethel Branch Library will officially celebrate its 45th Anniversary.  Bring the family for fun activities from 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m.  Kids can see dog tricks performed by Oliver the Bassett hound, make a craft and have their face painted.  All ages are welcome to listen to music by the Daniel Patrick Family Singers, meet Browser the library’s mascot, check out library and local history displays, enter contests to win prizes, mingle with local and library dignitaries and enjoy refreshments.

Take a “Step Back in Time with Stories of Bethel Library’s Past” on Tuesday, August 7, 6:30-7:45 p.m. and share your library memories with our panel of guest speakers including former and current Bethel library staff, “Worldwalker” author Steven Newman, Walter Carter from the Bethel Historical Museum and Bethel library volunteers and patrons.

What music were you listening to in 1967 in Bethel, Ohio?  We want to know!

 

 

 

Honorable Mention in the Short Story Contest

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Congratulations to Edith Center! Her entry, “Wedding Dress” won an Honorable Mention in our short story contest.

June 1, 2004 She had come to the attic looking for a hiding place. It was their wedding eve. After the rehearsal dinner, the wedding party had returned to the manor house, for the wedding would take place in the manor’s formal gardens the next morning. They had been sitting in the conservatory, conversation meandering from topic to topic, when someone remarked, “This house must have some marvelous hiding places.” Geoff replied he, his brothers, and their friends had played many games of hide and seek here when children. Before long, it was decided a game of hide and seek would be the perfect way to end the evening. Thus she came to be in the attic. She had grown up on ghost stories and was well aware of the tale of the ghost bride who, while playing this very game on her wedding night, hid in a trunk in the attic – which became her tomb. Different time, different place. But there was no way she would hide in a trunk. Then she saw the cedar chest, standing by itself in the cluttered attic. It captured her attention and she quickly forgot the game. It was beautifully hand carved. Why had it been banished to the attic? Why did it stand alone when everything else was jumbled together, fighting for space? It seemed even the dust and cobwebs avoided the chest. Mesmerized, she slowly made her way across the room. She stood in front of the chest, trying to gather courage to touch it – perhaps open it. – - – Geoff noticed the door to the attic was open and the light was on. Everyone had been found. Except Lynn. He called to her from the bottom of the stairs. “Lynn.” No response. And, for a moment, he too remembered the tale of the ghost bride. He took the steps two at a time and was relieved when he saw her on the other side of the room. Feeling a little foolish for allowing his imagination to get the best of him, he called again. “Lynn?” Still no response. He walked over to her, touched her shoulder. “Carolynn, are you all right?” She turned to him. “Oh, Geoffrey. Did you say something?” Concerned now, he replied, “Yes. I asked if you were all right. You certainly seem deep in thought.” “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Geoff nodded. “It belonged to my great-grandmother. According to family tales, she died shortly after grandfather was born. The family was appalled when great-grandfather married grandfather’s nanny immediately after the one-year mourning period. They had several children, all of whom died before reaching 21. Superstitious family members said it was a curse because of their unseemly haste in marrying. You see, great-grandmother was just days away from her 21st birthday. Some even said it would be the end of great-grandfather’s line. Obviously, that didn’t happen. All of grandfather’s children lived and prospered. And my brothers and I are hale and hearty. So you needn’t worry. The ‘curse’ has been put to rest.” Lynn had been staring at the cedar chest while Geoff spoke and now, more than ever, she wanted to know what was inside. She touched the lid, then looked at Geoff. He smiled and nodded. The chest wasn’t full. But Lynn didn’t notice. For on the top, wrapped in layers of tissue, was Geoff’s great-grandmother’s wedding dress. Lynn held it up, admiring the exquisite beadwork and delicate lace. Inside a small, drawstring bag were earrings, a necklace, and gloves. In a separate bag, was the Bible she had carried, and in another were her shoes. Geoff finally touched her arm and said softly, “We should be getting back to the others.” She nodded and reluctantly returned the items to the trunk. – - – Everyone eventually went to their rooms. The house became dark and quiet. But Lynn couldn’t sleep. The wedding dress seemed to have a hold on her. She finally gave in and crept up to the attic. She opened the chest and took the dress and accessories to her room. She was not surprised to find them a perfect fit – and determined to wear them. – - – She noted the surprise on Geoff’s face as she started down the aisle. But it turned instantly to delight, and he was smiling broadly when she joined him. After the ceremony, they greeted their guests as they slowly made their way back down the aisle. Geoff’s great-grandfather had arrived from the nursing home after the ceremony had begun. So as not to disturb anyone, his nurse placed his wheelchair by the last row. With both his eyesight and hearing virtually gone, his attendance at the wedding was a mere formality. As Geoff and Lynn came close enough for him to see them clearly, the smile on his face fled, replaced by a look of shock and horror. “No! No! It can’t be! Oh, Caroline. My Caroline. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I never wanted to hurt you. She said it was the only way – the only way we could be together. She said the poison would be painless. That you’d just fall asleep. She promised to care for the baby as if he were her own. Caroline, Caroline, please forgive me.” He leaned forward, reaching out his hands in pleading, then collapsed back into his chair. – - – When Geoff and Lynn returned from their honeymoon, Geoff’s mother said, “I have something you should see. We found it in the cedar chest when we replaced the wedding things.” She led them into the library, where an old photograph was lying on the desk. Geoff and Lynn picked up the wedding picture of Geoff’s great-grandparents. The bride was enchanting in her beautiful dress and the groom stood beside her, proud and handsome in his somber suit. But the faces staring back at them were their own. And on the back, written in precise script, was the notation: Jeffrey and Caroline June 2, 1930