Emily then turned to the final photo.
“Now there’s a shot!” Lenny exclaimed. It was a picture of the whole family this time—Nancy and Clem sitting side by side on the porch with Katie held lovingly in Nancy’s arms. Clem had cleverly devised a way of getting himself in the picture by means of pulling a string that he’d evidently attached to the camera’s shutter release arm. The other end of the string was clearly visible in his left hand.
Emily felt the sudden urge to cry. Seeing this happy family together and knowing all that had happened to its members tugged mercilessly at her heart. But her aspirations for the future managed to stifle that urge. It was time to get on with living and forget the past, she now realized. And for the first time in her life, she felt an overwhelming desire to some day have a child of her own. Hers and Lenny’s child.
Lenny retrieved the steel box and took the camera out again.
“This has got to be one of the very first Brownies ever made,” he observed. “This camera changed the world when Kodak first introduced it to the public in 1900 for a mere buck; giving virtually everybody an affordable way to take their own snapshots.”
Emily saw the fascination in Lenny’s eyes as he examined the camera.
“Thanks for the history lesson,” she grinned, pecking him on the cheek. “This has been the second most wonderful day in my life . . . The first was the day that I met you.”
Lenny took her in his arms and held her tight.
“Think you’ll be able to be a little more optimistic about the future now?” he whispered in her ear.
Emily faced him, her beautiful blue eyes crystal-clear and filled with joy.
“Without a doubt—so long as you’re with me, my love.”
“I’ll always be with you. Forever and always.”
As they prepared to leave, a chilly wind blew hard out of the north, accompanied by a trace of flurries. After putting everything back into the steel box, Lenny slid the stone back into its original place then took a final look at the remains of the house where he’d once lived as Clem Porter in another day and age. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders and a smile on his face, he took Emily by the hand as they began making their way back to the other house on the mountain.
Along the way, Lenny felt Clem’s presence within himself diminishing. Finally, as they approached the fringe of woods behind Emily’s house, he realized that he felt like his old self again. Lenny knew then that Clem Porter had at last accomplished the task he’d set out to do so long ago, and that he now had most likely rejoined his wife and daughter in that mysterious and wondrous place called Paradise.
EPILOGUE
A year later, Lenny Williams sat comfortably in front of the crackling fire and reflected on all that had happened since that fateful day at the old house.
Just as he’d hoped and prayed for, the nightmares that had plagued Emily for so many years had never again occurred as a result of the discovery made that day. Since then, Lenny had occasionally caught himself trying to analyze Emily’s terrifying accounts of those nightmares. Had she actually been dreaming all of those horrifying things? he would ask himself. Or had she somehow entered some uncharted place, devoid of space and time, that went far beyond that of human comprehension? Some hellish place where restless souls of the past with nothing better to do haunted the living . . ?
Of course he’d never been able to come up with any kind of logical explanation for Emily’s nightmares, or for that matter, any of the strange things that had happened back then. Nor did he really care to. Life was much too short to be pondering such things, he would remind himself. Too may things to do—too many good memories to recall.
Such as what happened later on that fateful day after he and Emily had returned from making their discovery . . .
The snowstorm had commenced that evening and continued nonstop for nearly eight hours, dumping a total of two feet of snow in Ulster County before it was all over. He and Emily had stayed up most of the night in the den, staring out in awe at the fury of the storm. When they weren’t gazing out the window, they were snuggling in front of the cozy glow of the fireplace, reveling in one another’s company. It had been a beautiful experience; a real-life reenactment of those dreams Lenny had dreamt so many times before: He and his Dream Lady snowed-in by a blizzard, snuggling around the fire and the beer flowing. Later on they’d made wild and wonderful love on the hearth until finally, feeling all but drained bone-dry from the events of that long and fateful day, falling asleep in each other’s arms.
The following month, in April, he and Emily had been officially married. The little Methodist church just off Hudson Street had been filled to capacity with those in attendance including most of the townspeople, his parents, and his best friend from Ohio who had served as best man. Miss Rutledge had even managed to be there; against the advice of her physician, Lenny and Emily had later learned. The old woman had been ceremoniously wheeled into the church by Henrietta Latham to the surprise and delight of all the locals who hadn’t seen Ashland Fall’s eldest citizen in years.
Following the wedding ceremony, Miss Rutledge had motioned Lenny aside and whispered something in his ear: “Your secret will always be safe with me, Lenny. God bless you.”
Although Lenny didn’t know exactly what to make of Miss Rutledge’s statement, he had a feeling that the old woman knew more about all that had transpired than he really wanted to be privy to.
A few weeks later, Miss Dorothy Rutledge had passed away peacefully in her sleep.
God rest her soul . . .
Lenny’s move from New York City had been a breeze. No long goodbyes—just one last farewell—and no regrets. He’d come, he’d seen, he’d tried to conquer but failed, and then he’d split. Simple as that. It had been a learning experience and a hell of a good one at that, he had to admit. No sense in putting the place down and carrying around a bunch of bad vibes, right? After all, he’d decided, some people actually loved living there in spite of themselves. New York City was just one of those things one loves to hate, Lenny reckoned. His final analysis: It was a nice place to visit, but . . .
Once he had officially relocated to Ashland Falls, Lenny put his floundering career on temporary hold. He’d been content merely to revel in the fact that he was settling down in one of the most beautiful regions in the eastern United States with his new bride to start a new life and he quickly seized the opportunity to explore his new environment. That spring, he and Emily must have hiked a hundred miles through the mountains, taking in the awesome beauty of the towering trees, crystal-clear streams, unspoiled lakes and abundant wildlife. He’d taken his trusty Nikon along too of course, capturing images on film and preserving them for posterity.
Lenny soon came to realize not only the rare beauty in the natural surroundings of the region but the special kind of beauty in its people as well. They were common folks who were proud of their community, leading simple, uncluttered lives and hell-bent on keeping it that way. It wasn’t that the folks were against changes per se; but they were adamantly opposed to any kind of change that might somehow harm either the environment or their own sociological ecology in any size, shape or form. One had to draw the line somewhere; that seemed to be their philosophy. And Lenny couldn’t agree with them more.
By mid summer Lenny had amassed quite a few decent photographs of the region. One morning he’d been sitting at the kitchen table with an enormous stack of matted eight-by-ten and eleven-by-fourteen inch prints piled before him when he suddenly had a brainstorm: he would open a photo gallery on Hudson Street! There were still a couple of vacant buildings he knew of there, and one in particular that he felt would be perfect for a gallery. He would renovate the building, display some of his better photographs and hopefully sell them to the tourists—at a reasonable price, of course. He’d do a “seasonal” series of the Catskill region, he decided, beginning with spring and ending with winter.
When Lenny informed Emily of his idea, she’d been absolutely
thrilled. Not long afterwards, the deed had been drawn-up, the building acquired, and by fall, the gallery had become a reality and an unqualified success; perhaps not so much in terms of monetary gain as in aesthetics and artistic fulfillment.
Emily had helped Lenny tirelessly throughout his venture until it finally became necessary for him to insist that she slow down and start getting her rest. He recalled Thanksgiving when his parents had come to visit and how frustrating it had been allowing Emily to prepare the dinner against his better judgment. She had been an absolute bear that day as she literally took over the kitchen and ordered him to stay out of her way. The meal was absolutely wonderful of course, but after his parents had left, Lenny made Emily promise she’d start taking it easy from that point on. She agreed, and for the next month had been a perfect angel.
Then finally, on December 20th, Emily had given birth to a seven-pound, eight-ounce healthy baby girl. It was the most beautiful and awesome experience he’d ever witnessed in his life and Lenny knew from that point on that his life would never be the same. For the first time ever, he had a clearly defined purpose in life: to be father to his child, husband to his wife, and to share all the joys and struggles of life with his newly acquired family. Nothing else would even come close to being more important.
When he first spotted the tiny birthmark on his baby’s little bottom, Lenny had nearly screamed out loud. For the first time since that fateful day at the old house, he had felt the overwhelming urge to tell Emily everything he knew, including the significance of their daughter’s distinctive birthmark.
But of course he hadn’t. The past, both Emily’s and his own, was no longer significant and best left behind them. The future was all that really mattered…
Just then, Emily came into the den carrying little Katie in her arms. She strode over and smiled at Lenny curiously then sat down beside him. He leaned over and gently kissed his crying daughter’s forehead, put his arm around his wife and looked at her imploringly.
“What’s wrong with her?” he asked.
“She’s hungry,” Emily replied.
Emily unbuttoned her blouse and began nursing Katie.
As the intense sensation of déjà vu swept over him, Lenny wondered if it was really himself who smiled broadly and quipped, “Save a little of that for Daddy!”
“Lenny!” Emily exclaimed.
Thank God! he thought to himself with an inward sigh of relief. My name is Lenny.
THE END
About the author:
Scott is a full-time visual arts teacher and part-time writer. He has written four novels in addition to Katherine's Prophecy including The Collector, See Tom Run, The May Day Murders, and The Edge. He has also written a non-fiction photography book entitled The Story Behind The Images and is host of the popular photography podcast, Photography 101. Scott lives in Worthington, Ohio with his wife, Marilyn.
Discover other titles by Scott Wittenburg at Smashwords.com:
The Collector
See Tom Run
The May Day Murders
Connect with Scott online:
ScottWittenburg.com
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