“I don't know,” he shrugged. “Work too hard, maybe. Lots of women leaving. Like that one who the restaurant was named after.”
“Evelyn's?” Taryn asked in surprise.
“That's the one. She was a schoolteacher here for, oh, I guess four years. That was the longest stretch I found.”
Taryn leaned back in her chair and considered. The band was playing a low-key version of the Avett Brothers' “I and Love and You” and the air was damp, but warm. It suddenly didn't seem so bad sitting out there, even with her current company.
“I met her great granddaughter when I ate there a few nights ago,” Taryn volunteered. “She talked a little about her living here, but didn't say anything about her being a teacher. I'm painting the school at the moment.”
“Well, she was there. Life just seems like a series of coincidences sometimes,” he said bitterly and then took a drink of his beer. Taryn still had to laugh at the irony of drinking alcohol at Shaker Town.
“Know anything about the murder here?” she asked hopefully.
“Nah. Probably fell and hit his head on something and wasn't even killed at all.”
“So I was thinking...” Taryn paced around her room, getting ready for bed, and kept Matt on speakerphone.
“Yep?”
“You could come up here and we could drink wine and then have sex in my room. We could even walk up the same stairs together. You know, just break all the rules?”
“You could get pregnant, too, and we could throw procreation in there. It would be very un-Shaker of you,” Matt added.
Taryn stopped in her tracks, her shirt and arms raised over her head. He was joking, right? “You're joking, right?” she asked, edging closer to the phone.
“Mostly. I'm getting older, though, and think about having kids sometimes. Don't you?”
Taryn balanced herself on the edge of the bed while she pulled on her pajama bottoms. “In theory I guess. But it seems a little impractical to me, seeing as to how I am not married, don't have any form of stable income, and have some health issues.”
“The health problems would be concerning,” Matt agreed. “But we could take care of the other things. In fact, when I checked my mail today I saw I had a coupon for one of the jewelry stores in the mall. I think it might have been a sign.”
The idea of Matt proposing was both thrilling and a little unsettling. “Matt, please don't buy me an engagement ring from the mall using a coupon.”
“Why?” he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.
“Never mind.”
Since they hadn't seen each other in awhile and she was in a pretty good mood Taryn considered flashing herself in her bra and sending him a picture but it was unlikely he'd appreciate that. Matt belonged in another century and would probably go around wearing a top hat if he could find a good, inexpensive supply of them. And there was always the chance it could go viral. She could see the memes being created already...
Still in a happy mood, Taryn crawled under the covers and flipped on the television. Her favorite episode of Designing Women (Bernice's sanity hearing) was on and Taryn snuggled under the thick, cool duvet and smiled. Life wasn't so bad at the moment. As her feet dug into the coolness of the cotton sheet below her, she smiled and felt a momentary surge of euphoria.
It was almost immediately replaced by a sharp, sudden tug of sadness. The despair hit her like a ton of bricks, starting at her forehead and moving in a luxurious wave down her body to her stomach, where it settled. The feeling of hopelessness, lonesomeness, and grief were not unfamiliar to her; she'd been having similar incidents since she was a child. Life felt futile, pointless, and she was divided between wanting to burst into tears and feeling so numb she couldn't move.
The feeling only lasted for a couple of minutes and then it was gone, leaving behind only a little residue as a reminder. Feeling neither bliss nor depression now she turned back to the television and tried to watch.
The pain was searing. It cut through her like a knife, ripping apart her insides. She'd never known such torture. She wanted to babble, to cry out, to lose her eyes and just disappear. It consumed her with a heaviness, though, and was relentless.
She, who was Taryn and yet wasn't, looked around in a blind panic. It was dark outside and the ground beneath her was wet from the early-evening rain. She was alone.
She tried to focus on the tree line, the building behind her, the sounds of the crickets and tree frogs, but the pain ate at her. She was inside of it, unable to see or make sense of the world around her.
And yet while it burned and stabbed and ripped, she thought about him, about the act he'd committed on her. She felt him grasping her legs again, gouging her breasts until they were sore and tender. The aching spot on her head where he'd pulled a clump of hair out and then casually balled it in his fist while he pummeled her. The blood she drew from biting down on her lip. It was bitter and acidic, like early-summer tomatoes.
She cried for that, too.
Chapter 12
Taryn spent the next morning sore in a way that wasn't EDS related. Her lower back, groin, and thighs ached and she felt violated. The dream from the night before still made her shudder. Like some of the others, it hadn't felt like a dream at all. She'd finally woke up in relief, happy to be back in her room with the television on. She'd even sent Matt a quick text (“bad dream, wish I could see you”) and then sat in the middle of her bed, phone in hand, hoping he'd write back. It was late, though, and he wasn't up. She'd not been able to go back to sleep so she simply stayed up and worked.
There was no doubt in her mind that the woman she continued to see had been sexually assaulted. As a woman she knew what it was like to say no and not have it taken seriously. She knew the irrational guilt of making the man feel angry and frustrated. Taryn, herself, had given in on more than one occasion simply because she couldn't handle the inner turmoil of having someone angry or upset. And there had been some of that in her dream.
The woman might not have put up the fight some might expect now, but she'd been violated all the same.
How awful it must have been for her, Taryn thought, to have been physically hurt in such a manner. And then there was the psychological factor. Shakers believed it was their celibacy that would help them achieve their place in the afterlife.
She technically had one more week there at the park and knew she'd be finished by then. Her job was to paint but she planned on using every free moment trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
The dining room at dinner was a flurry of activity. Not only was it crowded with the usual suspects, Andy was holding court in a corner, face red and hands on hips. Tourists and wait staff were crowded around him, heads nodding in sympathy.
Since Taryn was seated next to him there was little she could do but listen.
“It's going to cost me more money than I even care to think about,” he fumed.
“What happened?” Taryn asked her server as she sat a glass of lemonade in front of her.
“Oh, his house is being worked on and last night someone broke in and stole the copper pipes. Police don't have a clue.”
Well, Taryn could certainly understand his frustration. She'd be on the tear, too, if someone broke in and stole something of hers. Thievery was so...violating.
Once the drama settled down and the onlookers cleared away, Taryn turned around and addressed him. “I'm sorry about your house,” she apologized. “Did they take anything else?”
“No, just the pipes,” he sighed. “Looks like I'll be here a little longer. At least the management offered me a free room for the rest of the week. I'm almost as important as you now.”
He continued to find ways of irritating her, just when she thought she could get used to him.
“Bad way to have to get it, though,” she murmured.
“Yeah, well...”
Since she felt genuine remorse for him she thought it only right that he not wallow alone. “You want me to come and sit with you?�
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He gestured towards the empty seat, neither rudely nor invitingly. Taryn gathered her utensils and glass and moved over. “How's the writing going?” she asked.
He shrugged, his large shoulders rumbling under his sports shirt. “I'll meet my deadline. Already making plans for a book tour next year,” he added, a smug smile lighting up his face. She tried her best to look interested, if not overly impressed, and his face tightened. “So how's the painting?”
“It's going,” she answered. “You never really know how these things are going until they're finished.”
“Aren't these companies and people you work for worried you're going to take them for a ride?”
“What?” Taryn asked, genuinely bewildered. “What do you mean?”
“You know,” he smiled. “You say it will take two months when you can really get it done in a week. Drag it out to get more money and incentives from the job.”
“Um...I've never done that,” Taryn replied, feeling a little ball of anger forming in the pit of her stomach. “But thanks for giving me the idea.”
“You don't really hear about painters anymore, do you?” he mused. “I mean, the general population doesn't hear about the artists. Where are the Warhols? The Picassos? Even Grandma Moses? I guess it's because painting has become so accessible to everyone that it's not as special anymore.”
Taryn glared at him.
“Oh, not to imply that yours isn't good. I'm sure it is,” he added in haste.
She thought she might hit him. She felt like physically lashing out.
Luckily, he seemed to have finished his meal and was starting to collect his belongings. Now that the attention had died away, and Taryn wasn't appreciating his distress enough, it appeared he was ready to move on.
With a briefcase in his hand, papers sticking out at odd angles, he said his goodbyes to the people around him. Taryn thought he was about to walk off when he stopped and looked down at her. “I almost forgot,” he began. “I found something you might like.”
“Yeah?”
He placed the briefcase on the table and began rummaging through the mess. Finally, he plucked a single sheet of paper out and handed it to Taryn. “This is a copy of a very old photo of Evelyn, the old school teacher. Of course, she'd not so old here. I knew you were working on that history some and thought you might like it. You can keep this copy.”
Taryn held the sheet in trembling fingers, not sure why she was so surprised. After all, she'd already looked into that face several times during her stay. She just hadn't expected her ghost to be so photogenic in person.
The trails that snaked around the Shaker village had been calling Taryn since her arrival. She kept telling herself she was going to take a walk around them, but she always let it get too dark on her. Something had woken her up uncharacteristically early, though, and she was determined to get in a walk before breakfast. It promised to be a bright, sunny day and the fog from the nearby river was still clawing the ground. It would be burned off soon, but she liked the atmosphere and was itching to get out in it before it disappeared.
Miss Dixie had a fully charged battery and a blank SD card. She was ready to explore.
Since it was only a little after 7:00 am the only other people Taryn saw milling around were employees. They paid little notice of her as she strolled through the field, the grass wet with dew, and made her way to the path. It was chilly and she was glad she'd thrown on the sweatshirt, the Vanderbilt letters faded after many, many washings.
While she walked towards the tree line she hummed a little Springsteen, “Dancing in the Dark.” It was her rock-out song and she liked the line about being tired of sitting around trying to write the book. She was not a writer herself but often tired of trying to paint and sketch, especially when the motivation was lacking.
After doing some research online and reading study after study Taryn had started trying some supplements for her medical problems. It meant taking a handful of multivitamins and supplements every day: potassium, magnesium, Vitamin B12, Vitamin B6, Vitamin C, and a probiotic. She'd also started trying hemp seed oil in tablet form. Something must have been working because not only was the pain in her back and legs more manageable, she felt like she was in a better mood as well. She'd always enjoyed going out for walks and over the past year it had been getting harder and harder. Feeling better, or at least a little better, meant a greater return of freedom for her.
When she turned the corner she left the airy, openness of the fields and traveled into the dark canopy of the forest. Little had changed since the Shakers lived there, although a lot of it had been cleared since then. Taryn loved the quietness of the trees and even when things were quiet, like now, she imagined she could hear them breathing. She believed that trees, like old houses, had their own kinds of souls. And they remembered, probably more than anything. Sometimes she liked to place her hands on the trunks and listen. People would probably have thought she was crazy if they could see her; well, except for Matt. He believed that as well. Matt, who didn't subscribe to any particular religion either, always maintained that the best kind of church was outside because that's where you could feel closest to the creator.
Up ahead, the trail dipped over the side of the hill. Taryn could hear water below and she followed the sound with interest. She had mixed feelings about water. She wasn't a great swimmer and was a little afraid of the water, and yet she was endlessly fascinated by it.
Today the river was muddy and fast. The rain from the days before had left it swollen and the thick, chocolate-brown water swirled past her choked with leaves, branches, and other debris. It moved at a dizzying pace and watching it made Taryn feel like she was moving along with it. She stumbled a little and feared of falling in headfirst, caught by the pace. Grabbing onto a nearby tree trunk for support, she lowered herself to the soft ground and sat. Bits of bright blue sky now peeked through the branches above her, leaving a dappled pattern over the earth. It was peaceful sitting there watching the water.
She felt rather than heard the presence behind her. It gathered strength slowly and inched towards her, a pulsating ball of power. The morning sky was blacked out now, a shadow covering the ground around her. She looked up through a veil of black, the outside world barely more than a shadow. The unknown force behind her inched closer and closer, cloaking itself around Taryn, squeezing her and kneading her skin until she was struggling to get out of its powerful grip. She was absorbing it, whatever it was, and could feel it pawing at her, trying to seep into her skin, her mind, her soul. The vengeance and need were there in its power, she could feel it. It wasn't just provoked, it was aroused.
She choked, coughed, and gagged from the slippery smoke that slithered past her gaping lips and crept down her throat. She writhed in place, kicking and waving her hands in self-defense, but it held onto her hard as it seductively slid under her sweatshirt and into her pants, clawing and scratching. There was no shape; this was no man or woman. The sheer terror brought tears to Taryn's eyes as she fought against it, trying to force it out of every fold and crevice.
And then something else appeared. Although it was also dark, she could see the opacity outside her veil, almost within reach. There was anger, and not just from her. As the mystifying shape dropped down on her she screamed but above that there was another sound, a bellowing, that made the leaves on the trees shake. In an instant, the thing that had consumed her was gone, vanishing as though it had never been there.
She was left whimpering, cold and dismayed. Still trembling in fear, she attempted to straighten her shirt and smooth back her hair but her arms and legs were weak and wouldn't stop shaking. She could barely move.
Something else was still with her. The other thing, the one that had fallen on her; it was beside her. It seemed to be waiting for something, observing. She was afraid to look and tried to inch away but when she made to move a pale hand reached out, alabaster stone, and grazed her knee. She had a hole in her pants and small drops of blackish bl
ood leaked from a tiny wound. The hand touched her there and warmth flooded through her, like little rivers of fire. She stopped shaking. In less trepidation now she slowly turned and looked, the closeness of the thing jarring. But she didn't jump back in fear; it was a man she was looking at. His curly brown hair shone in the pale, filtered light; his eyes were tempered. He looked both at Taryn and through her at the same time. When she opened her mouth to speak, he disappeared.
Chapter 13
When all else failed, there was always Matt.
“I need help,” Taryn spoke rapidly into the phone, trying to tell him as much as possible before he sunk into work.
“Okay, what can I do?” he asked reasonably. “You need some research? Some investigating?”
Despite the fact that Matt was not a naturally nosy person, unlike Taryn, he was very good at digging stuff up. He missed his calling as a reference librarian.
“Maybe. If I send you some information can you take a look?”
“Sure. What's going on?”
Taryn quickly filled him in on her dreams, the photo of Evelyn, and what transpired down at the river. “I know for sure now that there are three distinct spirits: the man, the evil thing, and the woman,” she finished in a rush. “I think the man might be the protector, kind of the overseer of the park. He seems to want to protect me and probably others as well.”
“So what are you aiming to do here?” Matt asked. “If he's a protector then he's a good thing to have around, right?”
“Well, yeah,” Taryn admitted.
“And the woman?”
“I don't know. She just kind of dances around really,” Taryn replied lamely. It sounded silly now.
“And the other thing? The 'evil thing'?”
“I guess I want to make that thing disappear,” Taryn shuddered. “Nobody would want it hanging around, right?”
“Taryn,” Matt began gently, “maybe there's nothing to be solved here. It sounds like they're going along on their daily business and all seem to be happy about doing it. Well, except for maybe the evil thing. Yet it's possible you're one of the few who can sense it. You are unnaturally sensitive, you know?”
Shaker Town (Taryn's Camera Book 4) Page 11
