The Pumpkin Festival
The city of Detroit has long been associated with the automobile industry, and the mere mention of Hollywood conjures up images of movie stars and motion picture studios. In the same token—though on a much smaller scale—the town of Covenant, Massachusetts, is known throughout New England for its main product: pumpkins. While most people cannot tell one pumpkin from another, experts will testify that those grown in Covenant are superior in color, size, shape and, most importantly, flavor. There must be some truth in this since every year at county fairs throughout the Northeast those pies baked with Covenant pumpkins invariably win blue ribbons.
A typical county fair, however, pales in comparison to the Covenant Pumpkin Festival, which is held the second weekend of every October. What began in 1630 as a simple feast of Thanksgiving evolved into a spectacular weekend of entertainment, food, contests and even a beauty pageant. The Covenant Pumpkin Festival draws visitors from as far away as New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania. These out-of-state tourists enjoy the old-fashioned fun set against the backdrop of New England's fall foliage and freely spend their money on the produce grown by Covenant farmers and items made by local craftsmen.
Each year the Covenant Pumpkin Festival committee begins its planning meetings in June. For the past twenty-two years, Mrs. Leonora Hornsby, the richest and most influential woman in town, has headed the committee. She is very good at what she does: delegating responsibility for each task to a capable underling and making sure that he or she meets those responsibilities.
One evening, over hot coffee and pumpkin walnut scones, Leonora began assigning everyone's duties.
"Lucius, you and your men go over to the fairgrounds and make sure the stage, tables and booths are in good condition. Replace any rotted boards and give everything a fresh coat of paint."
Lucius nodded. He had worked with Leonora before and knew what was required of him.
"Elvira, I think you can run the pavilion by yourself this year. I'm sure you'll do as fine a job as your mother always did."
Elvira smiled and thanked Leonora for her trust and faith in her ability. She had helped her aging mother run the pavilion—the festival's version of a food court—for almost ten years. Now that her mother's health was failing, Elvira would be given the opportunity to take over her seat on the committee.
Leonora continued to assign people the tasks of running various contests, coordinating the vendors, scheduling entertainment, etc.
"Finally," she concluded, "Father McCabe will run the beauty contest again. Now, all of you know what you have to do. I needn't remind you that we have only four months to get everything done. If any of you needs help, just give me a call."
* * *
Celine Hennessy was one of the few people from Covenant to leave the town to attend college. Most youngsters after graduating from Covenant High become farmers or craftsmen. Others go into their families' businesses. Celine, however, had always wanted to be a writer. In pursuit of this dream, she went away to college and studied journalism. It was only after she failed to find a job in New York and Boston that she returned to Covenant to become a reporter for the local biweekly newspaper. But Celine had little interest in writing about small-town life, especially in a town where the news consisted mainly of weather-related stories, wedding and birth announcements and an occasional obituary. Once she had gained experience, she promised herself, she would get a job in the city—any city.
It was her first year on the paper, and the townspeople were busy preparing for the festival. Donovan Flint, who owned the paper and normally wrote most of its contents, had to put aside his journalism duties to devote time to the festival committee.
"I'll be tied up for the next few weeks," he informed his young reporter at the beginning of September. "I'll need you to see to things around here. In the past, I didn't put out any issues just prior to the festival, but now that you're with the paper, I think we can manage it."
Celine did not particularly like the pumpkin festival herself—another thing that set her apart from most people in Covenant—but she was grateful to be given more responsibility at the paper. Her family, like nearly all the people in town, was eagerly awaiting the second weekend of October. Her mother, who had previously won awards for her pumpkin raisin bread and pumpkin streusel muffins, was planning on entering a pumpkin soufflé in the baking contest. Her father had grown what he believed to be the largest pumpkin this season and hoped to win the coveted blue ribbon and have his pumpkin displayed at the town hall that Halloween season. Even Celine's little brother was eager to participate in the festivities: children under the age of ten were welcome to carve a jack-o-lantern.
Celine's younger sister, however, was the most excited of them all. She had just turned sixteen, and that meant she would be a contestant in this year's Pumpkin Maiden pageant. Celine had been third runner-up when she was sixteen, and her heart was broken when she failed to win, which was probably one of the reasons she still did not enjoy the festival nearly six years later.
This year, Celine vowed, things would be different since she would be covering the festival for the paper. She would begin her series of articles with one on the history of the festival, then cover the progress of the preparations and finally recap the highlights of the two-day event and announce all the winners. At least that was what she had planned on doing.
Celine's first article on the history of the pumpkin festival appeared on the second Wednesday of September. Prominent in the piece was Galen Kildaire, who founded Covenant in 1625. Kildaire and his followers, like the English Separatists who settled in Plymouth, had come to the New World from Ireland to escape religious persecution. Yet unlike other early settlers to America's shores, the people of Covenant faced neither the threat of starvation nor the possibility of annihilation from disease. On the contrary, Kildaire's band of settlers did very well for themselves. Their harvests were bountiful, providing enough food to sustain their number and to trade with the Native Americans with whom they formed an amicable relationship.
The prosperity of the settlement continued, yet Covenant remained relatively small. The people did not venture into the maritime industries or the spice trade as did those in nearby Salem, Gloucester and Marblehead. Covenant was content to remain a farming community. Very little changed over the ensuing centuries, despite Independence, the Industrial Revolution and American expansion to the Pacific. Yet the people of Covenant were not completely isolated from the rest of the world; they were not like the Amish. They owned cars, televisions and personal computers. They went to movies, rock concerts and theme parks. But the basic core of the community—its soul—remained the same. The people lived off the land, and they were proud of it.
Leonora Hornsby, the former Leonora Kildaire, was a direct descendent of Galen Kildaire. Upon her father's death, she inherited the family estate and a vast fortune. Her son would inherit both upon her death and would legally change his name from Hornsby to Kildaire in accordance with family custom, thus ensuring that there would always be a Kildaire to watch over the town that old Galen had founded.
* * *
Celine finished proofreading her article, noted a few typos on the copy and then sent it back to the typographer for correction. With the Wednesday issue of the Covenant Banner in production, she began researching her article for the Sunday edition, one covering the history of the Pumpkin Maiden pageant. Like a good reporter, she hoped to put aside her long-standing disappointment of finishing in fourth place and write an article that would be informative and free from personal bias or emotion.
"After all," she laughed, "it's not as though I competed in the Miss America contest. It was just a small-town beauty pageant."
In the long run, what did it matter who won or lost? Who even remembered the name of the girl who won the crown the year she competed?
Suddenly, Celine decided to change the focus of her article from the history of the pageant to a piece on the past winners themselves—a sort of "where are they now" article. Of course, the where was pretty obvious; it was extremely unlikely that any of the women ever left Covenant. But Celine could write about what had become of these women: the men they married, how many children they gave birth to, what jobs they had, etc. Possibly, she would be helping other young girls like herself who had not won in the past or would not win in the future by showing—in a roundabout way—what little effect winning the pageant had on the lives of previous winners.
That Sunday Celine's article told about the previous nine Pumpkin Maidens. As she had supposed, all of them were married with children and still living in Covenant. Their lives—in Celine's opinion—were boring and uneventful.
Being crowned Pumpkin Maiden was most likely the high point in their pitiful lives, the young reporter thought, considering herself the most fortunate of the lot for having gone to college and for pursuing her dreams.
Wednesday's feature article was to have been a continuation of Sunday's piece on the former Pumpkin Maidens, but when Celine tried to locate the girl who was crowned in 1990, she ran out of luck. She could find no records for that year. The judges had been old Reverend Laird and Leonora Hornsby's father—both now deceased. No one she questioned could remember the girl's name.
Celine was about to scrap the article and write one on the variety of dishes being entered in the cooking contest when she received an invitation to visit the home of Ina Biddle. Miss Biddle, at ninety-six, was one of Covenant's oldest residents.
"I read your article in Sunday's paper," the old woman said after inviting the young reporter to join her for coffee and a piece of pumpkin crumb pie.
"I suppose you've seen your fair share of pumpkin festivals," Celine said, politely refusing the pie.
"I was only four years old at the time of my first festival, so I don't remember much about it. But my parents told me I cried at the site of all the lit jack-o-lanterns."
The two women laughed.
"They can be frightening at times," Celine agreed.
A few moments later the old woman's smile faded.
"It's not the carved pumpkins one has to fear in this town," she commented cryptically.
"What do you mean by that?"
Suddenly, Miss Biddle seemed nervous. Her hand started to shake, and she spilled coffee into her saucer.
"I thought she would be the last one—for me, at least. I didn't expect I'd be on this earth much longer, but here I am again."
The old woman was not making much sense, and Celine wondered if her age had affected her mind.
"Ten years ago, I prayed the curse would be broken, but it wasn't. Now it's time again."
"What curse is that?"
"Every ten years the Pumpkin Maiden dies during her reign. The last one was Elsa Connery a decade ago. She died in a car crash less than a month after the pageant. Ten years before that, Darla Briggs died less than a month after being crowned, and ten years before that another Pumpkin Maiden was tragically killed."
The old woman looked at her visitor and saw the doubt written on her face.
"You think I'm a senile old fool, don't you?"
"No, I don't," Celine lied.
"I was a contestant once, back in 1920. My parents were relieved when I didn't win. I didn't know why—not then, anyway. Now I do. I need your help, Miss Hennessy."
"What do you want?"
"We have to find some way to save an innocent young girl from a violent death. We have to stop the pageant this year. If need be, we must bring an end to the pumpkin festival itself."
* * *
Celine soon discovered that many people in town had heard of the curse yet few would discuss it. When she tried to learn the names or the exact number of supposed victims, she met with either stony silence or deliberate evasions. Only the Covenant Cemetery held any confirmation of Miss Biddle's story. There Celine found the headstones for Elsa Connery, who died ten years earlier at the age of sixteen, and Darla Briggs, who died at the same age a decade earlier.
"I certainly can't go looking through all these graves for potential victims of the curse," Celine moaned with frustration. "Some of these headstones are so old that I can't even read the inscriptions on them."
With no other leads to follow, she went back to Ina Biddle's house.
"As I told you the last time we spoke," the old woman explained, "I was a competitor back in 1920, but I didn't win."
"Me either," the journalist said.
"That year Bibi Carmichael was crowned instead. She was so pretty and full of life. All the boys adored her," the old woman mused, temporarily lost in her memories. "Everyone had expected Bibi to win, but no one dreamed she would be dead before the first frost settled on the town."
"How did she die?"
"A freak accident. She fell from the hayloft of her family's barn and landed on a pitchfork. That beautiful young girl impaled on a common farm tool—how tragic it was!"
Celine took a spiral-bound pad out of her purse and made some notes.
"The next death was in 1940. Most of the world was concerned with the events in Europe at the time. However, we in Covenant were upset by the attack on a sixteen-year-old girl."
"Attack?"
"Police thought it was a wild animal. Some people whispered that the child was murdered, but no one would believe such a thing could happen in Covenant."
"Were they the first two girls to die?"
"I'm not sure, but I don't believe they were. There were whispers even back then of a curse and a ten-year cycle."
"And in all these years no one tried to prove or disprove the curse?"
"Heavens, no! The officials insist the deaths were not connected in any way."
"Well, let's see what the officials have to say when they read the next issue of the Banner."
* * *
The Banner's typographer read the article Celine had given him and whistled. It was not like any of the pieces that usually appeared in the paper. It was more like those found in supermarket tabloids. He did not believe Donovan Flint knew about the story, so on his way home from work that evening, the typesetter dropped a copy of the article off at the newspaper owner's home.
The following evening Celine worked late at the paper. The other employees had gone home around five o'clock. Shortly before nine, she heard a key turn in the front door.
"What are you doing here?" she asked her boss. "I thought you were busy with the festival preparations."
"Something came up that required my immediate attention."
"You should have phoned me. I'd have taken care of it," she said, turning back to her computer.
"I'm afraid it's something I need to do myself."
Suddenly, Donovan's arms went around Celine's neck, and a damp cloth was held to her mouth and nose. In moments the chloroform knocked her out.
* * *
When Celine came to, she found herself in a large room littered with old furniture and cardboard boxes.
"Where am I?" she asked groggily.
"You're quite safe," a voice replied from behind her.
She turned around and saw the members of the pumpkin festival committee standing in a semicircle around her.
"You're in the basement of my home," Leonora Hornsby announced.
"I saw the article you wrote," Donovan said gravely. "Don't you know how dangerous it is to write about this ridiculous curse?"
"If there's no truth to the curse, then how can writing about it be dangerous? If there is a connection between these tragedies, then maybe we can do something to prevent the death of another innocent young girl."
"You fool," Leonora spat. "Do you have any idea what's at stake here? Can you imagine how difficult things were for Galen Kildaire and his followers? Life in a new world, one without the comforts of home, a world where there was danger around every corner? When the Pilgrims arrived in Massachusetts, they lost more than half their settlers the first year while in Covenant there was but one death—that of Galen Kildaire's sixteen-year-old daughter. Her life was offered to God in exchange for his protection of the people of Covenant."
"Are you saying that Kildaire killed his own daughter in some bizarre religious ceremony?"
"It wasn't just Kildaire; it was all of the settlers. It was the only way they could survive."
"Why all the other deaths since then?"
"It was part of the pact. A young girl would be offered every ten years for continued peace and prosperity in Covenant. If we'd broken the pact, there would have been dire consequences. Didn't you ever notice how beautiful and peaceful life is in our little town? The land is extraordinarily fertile. There has never been a fire, flood, earthquake or any other act of God to harm us. The people all live long, healthy and reasonably happy lives."
"Tell that to all the Pumpkin Maidens you've killed," Celine said sarcastically.
"What is the life of one girl every ten years balanced against the survival of the town for close to four centuries? Don't you see that the end justifies the means?"
"I think you're all insane!" Celine screamed.
Seeing that further discussion was pointless, Leonora nodded to the committee, and Donovan Flint gave Celine an injection that put her to sleep.
* * *
The opening day of the Covenant Pumpkin Festival was a mild, sunny one, a taste of Indian summer before winter arrived. The fairgrounds were festively decorated with pumpkins, gourds and cornstalks. Again, tourists had flocked to Covenant, bringing with them their hard-earned dollars.
Before the two-day event came to an end, Mrs. Hennessy won another blue ribbon in the cooking competition, this time for her pumpkin soufflé. Mr. Hennessy's pumpkin came in second place. These honors helped cheer the parents, who were disappointed when Donovan Flint informed them that Celine had gone to New York to research a new series of articles.
The highlight of the festival, as usual, was the Pumpkin Maiden pageant. Mr. and Mrs. Hennessy forgot all about their older daughter's absence when sixteen-year-old Joline Hennessy was crowned. It was a title she would hold for only four months, for on a snowy day in early February, young Joline was killed in a snowmobile accident.
The night the Pumpkin Maiden died, Leonora Hornsby and the other members of the pumpkin festival committee met in secret in a small clearing in a wooded area on the Kildaire estate. It was the same clearing where Galen Kildaire and his followers had stood nearly four hundred years earlier. In her hand, Leonora held the heart of Joline Hennessy. After a brief but solemn ceremony, Leonora placed the heart on the altar as an offering to God. Then she and her companions fell to their knees and prayed for ten more years of peace and prosperity for the town of Covenant.
* * *
The snow fell gently on the cold February morning. The grieving parents stood beside the open grave fiercely clutching their only remaining child, a bewildered seven-year-old boy. Their friends, neighbors and relatives—nearly all of Covenant—filed past the coffin to pay their respects.
To most of the townspeople, the Hennessy family's double loss was unimaginable. Losing their younger daughter in a tragic accident had been bad enough, but learning shortly thereafter that their older daughter—missing since October—had been found murdered in New York was more than most people could bear.
When the last of the mourners left, Mrs. Hennessy placed a single red rose on Celine's casket. Then she turned and placed another on Joline's snow-covered grave.
"At least the police were able to find her body," the bereft mother sobbed as she and her husband left the cemetery. "It's comforting to know that she'll always rest here in Covenant where she belongs."
Salem wants to attend the Covenant Pumpkin Festival; he heard he could get Godiva chocolate in the shape of pumpkins there.
