Most of them didn't know about Julius.
“Do you think Morgan will ever leave?” she asked Matt, after Eddie Jay moved on to his horses.
“I don't know,” he answered thoughtfully. “I think he has too much anger, too much resentment. Whatever he had in life has followed him in death. But I don't think he's necessarily a menace to the majority of people who stay here. There's a lot of love, a lot of peace. Eventually that will win out.”
“They're going to bury the little one in the cemetery here,” she said. “I saw the spot. It's a nice one. They let me name him.”
Matt looked at her in surprise. “Really? What did you name him?”
“Matthew Julius,” she replied. “It didn't seem right that he was under everyone's feet all that time and nobody knew him. He at least deserved to have an identity, if not a life.”
The two were quiet now, contemplative. For a moment it was on the tip of Taryn's tongue to say that she was ready to move on, in more ways than one. That maybe what they were doing was more out of habit and obligation than any real love or passion. That they could be soul mates without being together. But the idea terrified her. A big part of her was afraid that by not being with him romantically, she'd lose him permanently, and Taryn didn't think she could face a life without Matt. Taryn knew that comparing him to Andrew and her life with him was wrong. She was trying to stop that. But now even Andrew was becoming a distant memory, something that belonged to another person in another life. Taryn was not the same person she once was. She was changing.
And the way Julius had looked at Evelyn in the schoolhouse...
Matt, for his part, sat next to Taryn and was silent not because he didn't know what to say but because he had too much to say and didn't know where to start. He never wanted to let her out of his sight again, the idea of losing her was soul crushing, the very thought of her was what kept him alive and had since he was a child. He loved her with everything.
But all he could do was start chattering about bourbon balls.
Small footsteps approached them then, and when Taryn looked up she was surprised to see Susan. “Scooch over,” she demanded to Matt. Squeezing in next to Taryn. Susan patted her on the knee. “So, turns out the haunted pond thing wasn't that far off.”
“Who knew?” Taryn agreed. “But what I want to know is how did it even get started in the first place? He wasn't in the pond, sure, but close enough.”
“I suspect someone would've seen Julius with him, if not helped him altogether. My Edward maybe,” Susan theorized. “Or just someone too afraid to speak.”
Taryn nodded, still trying to process.
“I'm afraid I held something back from you the other day,” Susan apologized, reaching into her purse. “If I'd known what I know now I would've shown you then. But there's no time like the present.”
“What is it?” Taryn asked, taking the brittle piece of paper in her hand.
“I think it might answer some questions about Julius, and what happened. Go on, give it a read,” Susan urged her.
Taryn unfolded the paper and began to read aloud.
My Dearest Evelyn,
By the time you read this you will be on your way to your new life with Edward. Regretfully, I will not be able to accompany you.
I have no recollections of a life outside of the village. I was brought here as an infant and this is my home. Although I question my faith daily, I've known nothing else. I have happiness here, and up until some time ago, peace. None of this compares to what I have had with you. If I were a stronger man I would leave and what we have would be enough. I have sinned Evelyn, and cannot comprehend why you should have to settle for someone like myself. I am no longer pure of heart and mind for you and you deserve so much more than I can give.
The child should have been ours, and I must wonder if God wasn't punishing me for not having the strength to protect you. It has to be me, Evelyn, for He could never do such a thing to you. I will love my son and watch for him, although he is not of my flesh and blood.
I fear I am unable to leave with you or live here without you. A fortnight ago the ribbon from your bonnet broke. I caught it and have kept it in my pocket, feeling its presence with me always. I will now hold onto it, for it will most certainly be my admission to whichever afterlife awaits me.
Yours,
Julius
“Do you think he killed himself?” Taryn asked, handing the letter back to Susan.
“I think that's a pretty good assumption. I mean hell, think about it. Here he was a Shaker, someone brought up to believe his hard work and celibacy would be his ticket to Heaven. And now he's had impure thoughts, had a baby he claimed even though it wasn't his, and probably helped clean Edward up after the murder. He might have even taken the heat for it; we don't know. The man was on a downwards spiral. And they weren't real forgiving around here.”
“His death hasn't been recorded,” Taryn pointed out. “So maybe he didn't do it here.”
The three of them sat together now, none of them speaking, each one of them thinking of Julius. Finally, Susan broke the silence. “It's a fine thing what your young man did. I approve.”
Taryn looked up in confusion. “Did what?”
Matt opened his mouth to protest but Susan cut him off. “He bailed your co-workers out. Went down this morning and paid. They got to go home.”
Taryn looked at Matt in shock. His face was beet red and he stared down at his feet, awkwardly kicking at a loose stone. “They were in a bad spot. They needed a break. I just kept thinking about their baby.”
Taryn could barely form the words. Even now, there was so much to Matt she would never know or understand. Words were inadequate so she reached over and took his hand. It was cold and smooth in hers.
“It was a nice thing, Matt,” she said seriously. “I love you for that.”
“He could've drowned himself in the river,” Matt suggested in reply. The women looked at him in confusion, trying to figure out what that had to do with Dustin and Lydia. “Julius? Maybe he jumped in the river. Taryn saw him around there. He couldn've jumped or fallen. Floated downstream. Maybe found by someone else. It would've been a good way to escape, a way to get out without being responsible for leaving.”
“That's so sad. They were all tormented but the Shakers were all he knew. Evelyn could leave because she remembered another life. Julius didn't. He must have felt like he was kicked out of Eden,” Taryn said sadly.
“How about we keep this little secret between the three of us?” Susan proposed. She reached into her purse and took out a tube of bright orange lipstick which she went on to slather expertly across her thin mouth. “You know they'd include the story in one of their damnable ghost tours.”
In spite of herself, Taryn laughed. Matt reached over and squeezed her hand, the firmness of his grasp bringing her back down to earth just a little bit. It was the safest she'd felt in weeks.
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Note from the author:
I’ve been fascinated with Shaker Town since I first visited it as a child, more than 25 year ago. I return almost every year, sometimes just for the day and sometimes to spend the night. Although I have never seen a ghost there, it is reportedly haunted. The ghosts in my book are fictional but slightly based on the kinds of stories that get passed around at the park.
A friend of mine, Thomas Freese, wrote two books dealing with the ghosts of Pleasant Hill. If you visit my website you can find links to those books in my blog. They’re a lot of fun and Thomas himself is a former Shaker Village employee.
Although the park in question is loosely based on Pleasant Hil
l outside of Harrodsburg in Central Kentucky, I’ve taken liberties with geography and layout. The schoolhouse, unfortunately, is not there. There is a restaurant much as I described it, the site of an old ice house, and a pond. These things are real. Re-enactors really do sing throughout the day in the meetinghouse and you can take a horse and wagon ride through the park. It’s also open for visitors to spend the night and, yes, there are lots of ghost stories about the rooms.
Although I talked to numerous people about the Shakers’ lives and did years’ worth of research (like Taryn, my MA dissertation was on them) there are some things I am sure I got wrong. Hopefully, that won’t affect the story too much.
Lastly, the Cowgirl Attic IS a real store in Lexington and I urge everyone to visit it. It’s truly unique.
Want alternate endings, chapters from other characters' perspectives, and companion short stories? Join Rebecca's VIP mailing list today at
www.rebeccaphoward.net
Other books by Rebecca
Taryn's Camera Series
Windwood Farm
Griffith Tavern
Dark Hollow Road
Shaker Town
True Hauntings
Haunted Estill County
More Tales from Haunted Estill County
A Summer of Fear
The Maple House
Four Months of Terror
Three True Tales of Terror
Other Books
Coping with Grief: The Anti-Guide to Infant Loss
Visit her website for ordering information.
Www.rebeccaphoward.net
Copyright © 2015 by Rebecca Patrick-Howard
www.rebeccaphoward.net
Published by Mistletoe Press
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First Edition: June 2015
Printed in the United States of America
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Shaker Town (Taryn's Camera Book 4) Page 20
