“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Nicki said in a rush. “Honest.”
“Are you making the patient worse?” Shawn waltzed through Taryn’s bedroom door, another stack of DVDs in hand. “I’ve got ‘Donnie Darko’ here. I think you’ll like it. It’s still weird, but more accessible than the one about the piano teacher.”
“I’ll give it a try,” Taryn said, gladly accepting the gifts he offered.
“So what are you saying to her Nicki?” he asked sternly. “She looks like she’s seen a ghost.”
“Ironically, not this time,” Nicki said with a wink. But she looked troubled.
“Shawn, you’re a man,” Taryn began.
He dramatically collapsed to the floor and exhaled loudly. “Here it comes. The man-on-the-street quiz…” But he didn’t look out of sorts by it.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No, not now. I did, but we broke up a few months ago,” he replied.
“When you were dating, how often did you leave work to be with her?”
He scratched at his goatee and looked to the ceiling as if for a suitable answer. “Well, she had surgery once and I was there for her then. Mostly, though, we were pretty independent people. The only time I played hooky and spent the day with her was when I wanted to get out of working.”
Taryn stuck her lip out in a fake pout.
“How long you been with this guy?” he asked.
“A couple of years,” she said. “But we’ve known each other since we were kids. We’re best friends.”
“Do you live together?”
“No,” Taryn replied. “He lives in another state.”
Shawn raised up and considered Taryn with steely eyes. “You’re best friends, been dating for a couple of years, and don’t even live in the same state? Honey, that’s not a relationship. That’s an expensive booty call.”
“It’s a complicated relationship!” Taryn protested. “We’re really close. He’s my soulmate. Well, I mean, I think he is…”
“Look,” Shawn said as he rose to his feet. “I don’t know what kind of relationship you guys have and it’s none of my business. It takes all kinds. I know couples whose jobs have them apart for weeks at a time all year and I guess this isn’t any different. But none of us are getting any younger. We’re all too old for high school games. If you loved this man and really wanted a future together, you’d be down there. Or he’d be with you. Right Nicki?”
“I think so,” she nodded tentatively, unable to meet Taryn’s eye.
“He has asked to live near me, to move in with me,” Taryn confessed. “But I’ve never felt right with that. I’ve always been afraid that he was giving up too much, that he would resent me on down the road.”
“I don’t think so,” Shawn shook his head. “You seem like a smart woman. You’ve said no because you know something is wrong.”
“Does he give you bells and whistles?” Nicki asked suddenly, her eyes sparkling.
“Huh?”
“Your belly! Does he give you butterflies?”
“I’m not a teenager anymore,” Taryn huffed. “Things like that don’t happen to me anymore. I’m an adult. Those things are for high school romances and the movies.”
“Shame,” Shawn said, casting a pitying look at Taryn. “It doesn’t have to be.”
The fact was, Taryn felt safe with Matt. They had wonderful physical chemistry and the man could damn near read her mind. Nobody in the world loved her as much as he did, of that she was sure.
What if she were using him? The thought appalled and shamed her, mostly because she was afraid it might be true. What if she only loved him for the things he did for her and not for who he was?
“There might be someone else for you,” Nicki said softly, patting her on the hand.
Taryn turned and looked back out the window. The sky was growing darker. Her knee throbbed under its bandages. What if there was someone else out there? Was it already too late? Time was not something she had a lot of. She felt that in her belly.
Chapter Nineteen
“NICE WORK.” Taryn looked up from the canvas balanced on her lap and smiled at Nicki. They’d eaten breakfast together with Shawn and then the three of them had separated, all busy with their various jobs. Taryn had worked all the way through lunch, barely taking a second to take a drink of anything. Once she was in her zone, she didn’t interrupt herself.
“Thanks,” she replied as she glanced down at her canvas. She was working on the front of the house. So far, she’d used her charcoal to outline. She wouldn’t pick up the paintbrush for another day yet but it was taking shape. “How you doing?”
“Do you know about the vine?” Nicki asked as she lowered herself to Taryn’s side. When her bottom touched the hard ground, she grunted with something that sounded like pain.
“You okay?”
“Just having some tummy troubles,” Nicki sighed. “Must have eaten something bad for me. I’ll be fine, I’m sure. I took some Co-codamol.”
Taryn didn’t know what that was. “What about a vine?”
“Over there,” Nicki gestured towards the back of the house. “At the edge of the garden.”
“Not sure I know anything about a vine. Do tell,” Taryn prompted her.
“Well,” Nicki began. As she settled into her story, her voice rang out strongly over the lawn, happy and girlish. “You see, there was once all these grape vines that apparently grew up along the stone wall and over the back of the house. Iona’s mother, Aeronwen, evidently decided that these vines were magical. She truly believed that if the vines were cut back or removed altogether, that Ceredigion House would fall.”
“I had no idea,” Taryn laughed.
“It’s true. And they’re still there, still clinging on to dear life,” Nicki cried gleefully. “I just spent the past hour sketching them and taking photos.”
“I’ll have to go back there later and check them out,” Taryn said. “Such an odd legend, though. Wonder how it got started?”
“No clue,” she shrugged. “I spent the rest of the day trying to draw out the cold frame. It’s that red brick building in the corner. It once had five compartments inside. Most of those have caved in, though, and are unrecognizable. The wooden glazed frame has disappeared as well.”
“Not sure I know what that was used for,” Taryn admitted. “But I enjoy learning about historical architecture. Things are a little different over here than they are at home.”
“Ah, I see. Well, the cold frame is what many people used in their gardens, and still use. It served as protection for the young seedlings and plants that were taken from cuttings. During the wintertime it protected over-wintered vegetables.”
“I get it,” Taryn said, envisioning her grandmother’s farm back in Tennessee. “My nana had something like that. She made it out of old windows. Kind of like a little tiny greenhouse.”
“Right!” Nicki cried out. She gave Taryn a proud pat on the shoulder, as though she had just answered a question correctly in school.
Unable to help herself, Taryn laughed at the other woman’s exuberance.
“I do wish I could’ve seen the vinery when it was still here,” Nicki sighed. “It was the biggest structure in the garden. Inside, there would’ve been weights in wooden slots for opening and closing the frames. Plus, in the wall there would’ve been a flue for the boiler and a well in the middle of the floor. Rooting arches would’ve been on the south side and that would’ve trained the vines and foliage to grow through the arches and into the vinery. It all would’ve been very magical. Wish I could’ve seen it.”
It was on Taryn’s tongue to tell her about the photo of the garden she’d taken-the one that had shown many of the things she’d talked about. But she wasn’t yet sure that she wanted Nicki to know those things about her. Their friendship was young and she’d already been privy to Taryn’s health scares. She didn’t want to overwhelm the poor girl and risk driving her off.
“I mean,
” Nicki continued, “this place had a hot house that grew pineapples and watermelons! Isn’t that fantastic?”
“Hard to believe that all of that was here at once and now there’s barely any indication that it existed at all,” Taryn agreed.
“I love imagining the past,” Nicki said dreamily. She looked towards the house and smiled softly. “Just imagining what it must have looked like, how lovely everything must have been.”
Taryn focused her gaze towards the house as well and nodded. “I know what you mean. Sometimes I wish I could just step back in time for a few minutes. Just to see it all.”
“You’re a girl after my own heart,” Nicki smiled. “I am very glad I met you.”
***
After spending nearly three days in bed, Taryn had pushed herself to get as much done as possible. Completely lost in her work, she’d let herself lose track of time so when she looked up and saw how dark it had become, she was somewhat surprised.
Nicki and Shawn had gone into town for supper. They’d invited her, but she’d declined, intent on finishing what she’d started. She wasn’t crazy about the idea of wrapping the job up, but she was also a professional and had a deadline to make.
After gently storing her canvases and charcoals in her artist’s satchel, Taryn rose to her feet and stretched her arms high above her head. Her back and legs ached from sitting on the ground all day, but she’d gotten a lot accomplished.
With the last few rays of sunlight disappearing over the moor, Taryn decided to take a quick trip to the back of the house. She wanted to see these magical vines for herself. Taryn cut through the garden, letting herself in through the iron gate and walking beneath the elegant arches supported by the stunning stone walls. Picking her way across the rocky soil and remnants of benches and stone paths, she moved through the derelict garden trying to picture what it would’ve looked like in its heyday. She’d seen Nicki’s drawings-elaborate reconstructions of colorful foliage and towering brick and stone structures covered by lush ivy.
Even now, Taryn could imagine herself in a garden dress, her hair pinned atop her head, as she elegantly waltzed down the paths, shielding her delicate face with an even more delicate parasol. Oh, she knew that the gentry enjoyed rights and luxuries that people such as herself would have never seen in those times but it was still fun to pretend.
By the time she arrived at the magical vines, it was already nighttime. The sun had vanished without a trace. There was a light on in the back of the house, however, and it cast a pale, golden glow over the grape vines that started on the ground and slowly climbed the wall, their graceful arms reaching for the roof with delicate tendrils. Their leaves were dead; they were skeletal appendages with brittle bones clinging to the stone for dear life. For a moment Taryn imagined them as fingers-fingers reaching out of an earthen grave to claw themselves back into the sunlight.
“Where the hell did that come from?” She giggled nervously, trying to shake off the cold chill that had run down her spine.
There was something putrid in the air, an odor that turned her stomach. It reminded her of the time the curling iron had shorted and burned her hair. She turned away then and began walking back through the garden again, this time with a quicker step. Ignoring the pain shooting up through her leg, she hummed to herself for comfort.
The sensation that someone was standing behind her at the edge of the dark woods, watching her walk away, was so strong that she didn’t dare look back. Instead, she quickened her pace and hopped over the little mounds of earth that cropped up throughout the patch of land.
The sense of being watched only intensified. Taryn’s fast-paced walked turned into a jog, her satchel banging against her leg with each movement. The sound of her own uneven breath rang in her ear. She was panting with exertion and yet could feel a presence growing closer and closer behind her, just inches away.
She was almost to the gate when she saw the man on the moor.
He stood in the pale moonlight, watching her spring towards the exit. Although they faced one another, and were only a dozen or so yards apart, he didn’t acknowledge her presence. Instead, as she raced through the gate, letting it clang shut behind her, he began waving his arms in a frenzied motion, as though trying to gain the attention of the person behind her. He wore dark-colored pants and a gray shirt. As she moved closer to him, however, she saw that his top wasn’t gray at all, but white. He was soaking wet and the fabric was plastered to his body, making it appear darker. His hair dripped with droplets of water raining down on the ground around him. He continued waving his arms frantically, his mouth distorted in horror.
Taryn paused then and turned, ignoring her quickening terror.
There was nobody behind her. The gate still swung back and forth from where she hadn’t properly latched it, but there wasn’t another soul for as far as she could see.
Confused, Taryn turned back to call out to the man on the moor. He, too, was gone. She was alone.
Chapter Twenty
“IT COULDN’T HAVE BEEN A GHOST,” Taryn declared stubbornly. “He was definitely real. I could even see the droplets of water shaking off his head.”
Miriam clucked her tongue and gave the area rug another beating with the handle of the wooden broom. “Sorry love,” she said. “It was a ghost. You saw Hensley.”
“Who?” Nicki asked. She was looking pale and had been complaining of her stomach pain all day. She claimed that she’d had too many beers out with Shawn the night before, but Taryn was concerned.
“Hensley Powell,” Miriam answered. “He lived here during Iona’s time. Was herding animals right there where you saw him. One escaped and he chased it. Landed himself in the lake, he did, and drowned. It was right before little Belle.”
Nicki let out a low whistle and Miriam laughed.
“It was a dark, cold night when it happened,” she added, “much like it was last night.”
“What kind of animals?” Taryn asked. She tried to remember his arms and what he had been doing. She’d thought he was waving to whoever chased her; perhaps he’d been herding. Or, worse, perhaps he’d been reenacting his death and his troubled splashes before his demise. She trembled at the thought.
“Pardon?”
“You said he was herding animals. I just wondered what kind.”
“Don’t know,” Miriam replied. She began rolling the rug up to take it back inside. Taryn hopped off the bench and began helping her. Together, they rolled it as tightly as they could and then Miriam lifted it, as though it weighed not more than a feather, and slung it over her shoulder. It was so long that it came within inches of touching the ground on both ends but Miriam didn’t appear to be struggling.
“The story changes,” she explained. “Sometimes it’s sheep, sometimes cows and horses. So it goes with legends. It’s not the details that are important, love. Details can change over time. It’s the moral of the story.” With that, she turned and went back inside the house.
“You saw a ghost!” Nicki cried with glee. She looked like a little girl on Christmas morning. Taryn half expected her to slap her hands together. “That’s exciting anyhow.”
“Do you believe in ghosts?” Taryn asked tentatively.
“Well, of course I do,” Nicki replied. “I’ve seen them myself a time or two.”
Taryn was about to press further, but just then Shawn slipped out the front door and joined them at the foot of the stairs. “You talking haunted houses?” he asked.
He slung his arm around Taryn’s shoulder in a companionable manner and she smiled. She’d only known them for a week yet already felt like they were old friends. Her phone calls to Matt had been filled with nothing but stories about things the two of them had said and done. She didn’t think he found the anecdotes amusing.
Nicki nodded. “Yep. Taryn saw a ghost last night!”
Taryn could feel herself blushing. “Well, maybe,” she hedged. “It certainly looked real enough. I thought it was a man.”
“
I saw one here myself,” Shawn said nonchalantly. He ruffled Taryn’s hair then gave her a little pat on the back. “This place is full of them.”
“There’s certainly been a lot of deaths,” Taryn said. “I’ve lost count of the stories I’ve read about people dying here.”
“It’s because the place is cursed,” Nicki declared with authority. “Now tell us, Shawn, what did you see? Where was it? Did it talk to you?”
Shawn laughed as he lowered himself to the bench. The white paint was chipping off the metal and formed little hills of snowy debris at their feet. She and Shawn both ignored the bird droppings and various stains. Like Nicki, it appeared that Shawn was able to look past the mistreatment of the property and see what lay underneath.
“You know those scaffolds?” he pointed and they all three looked up. “They’re not really working on the house. They put those up three years ago to make guests think that they were in the process of restoring.”
“Taryn was not surprised. The thought had already occurred to her.
“The ghosts, Shawny,” Nicki pouted. “What did you see?”
“Right,” he laughed. “Well, two nights ago, right after I brought up the Korean horror film you didn’t care for, I decided to treat myself to a little midnight snack in the kitchen.”
“I didn’t hate that movie,” Taryn grumbled. “I just didn’t get it.”
Nicki shushed her and urged Shawn to continue.
“I was sitting in the dining room on the other side of the kitchen, eating my sushi, when I heard a sound coming from the kitchen.”
Bloody Moor: A Ghost Story (Taryn's Camera Book 8) Page 11
