Jekyll Island: A Paranormal Mystery (Taryn's Camera Book 5)

by Rebecca Patrick-Howard

  Taryn nodded. She’d seen a lot of them on the beach.

  “You know that if they were out there digging around and came across a nest of eggs they’d probably cover them up. Or else they’d throw them away instead of telling someone if they thought it would cost them an hour or two of work.”

  “My, my, you’re a cynical one,” Taryn laughed in spite of herself.

  David snorted. “Yeah, well, I’ve seen a lot. You know that airport over on St. Simon’s Island?”

  “Yeah.” She didn’t, not really, but thought she’d go with it.

  David grimaced. “When they were digging up the ground to build it they found a Native burial site and village with thousands of artifacts. Just dug them up and put them in a big pile. No official excavation was done at the time. Who knows what else could be under there. Of course, that was back before we had certain laws and regulations but still…”

  “I know,” Taryn said. “I see it a lot in my work, too. They just kind of keep quiet and move on. Makes you wonder what the future generations are going to do with our graveyards.”

  “Well, in my family we’re cremated and given back to the earth we came from,” David explained. “I like to think that’s also the environmentalist in us talking.”

  “So are you going to leave now that you’ve met with him?”

  David pursed his lips and stared straight ahead. She could feel a mixture of sadness, irritation, and excited energy radiating from him. It was the first time in a long time she’d met someone who felt so…alive. A small shrimp boat was gliding past them, the nets raised up in the air. It looked like a picture and Taryn had the urge to paint it. There were lots of things on the island she’d like to paint, but first had to finish the job she was actually being paid for.

  “Not yet,” he replied at last. “I’ve got at least another week or two here. They just broke ground, and I want to be on hand in case anything turns up. It’s a small island and people will talk, whether they want them to or not. If I have to stay on for awhile even without being paid I will.”

  Taryn appreciated his stubbornness. She also had a fairly good feel for people, though, and while she wasn’t as sensitive as she’d like to be, there was still something about David that she couldn’t put her finger on. She got the distinct feeling that he wasn’t telling her everything. “Are you expecting to find something?” she teased him. “Are you aware of something that’s there and just not sharing it with the rest of us?”

  David laughed then, a full rich sound that carried through the air. “No, no, I don’t know anything right now. I swear. But I have a hunch. Haven’t you ever had one about a place?”

  He turned and looked at her then, a searing gaze that made her uncomfortable. She could have sworn that he was looking into her and not just at her. Changing the subject at once, she moved on to the books she’d bought the day before and what she’d learned so far.

  “And anyway,” she finished after a lengthy rambling on the early history of the settlers, “this island has seen an awful lot.”

  “Well that’s for sure,” he agreed, his face more relaxed now. “Is that the book you bought?” He pointed at the edge of the volume sticking out from her knapsack.

  “Yep, that’s it.”

  “I’ve read it; it’s a good one.

  “It’s wild to think that at one time this was almost a jungle and yet these prim and proper people were over here trying to build mansions and cultivate a proper society out of it,” Taryn mused. “We always want to turn a new place into what we’re familiar with instead of learning to adapt to what we find.”

  “And then there were people who did learn to adapt and swing the other way,” David said with a glint in his eyes.

  “Huh?”

  “Well,” David laughed, “a long time ago when this was a true wilderness people were swayed to do things they might have never done otherwise. Let me see that book of yours.”

  Taryn handed him the thick volume and watched with curiosity as he thumbed through it. “I know you’re not as interested in the early history of the island as you are with the later stuff, but check this out. This is from a letter Lady Oglethorpe wrote her husband in 1734:

  “Since your departure, my dearest husband, all the pigs have escaped into the dreadful wilderness about us, and we fear daily that thay will be captured and eaten by the savages. The Chief, Altamaha, and his band, are still upon the island, and yesterday he came and begged tobacco and sugar, and also demanded of me our maid servant Elizabeth as his wife, much to her astonishment and terror. He was dressed in all his barbaric finery, painted and bedaubed in as many colors as the coat of Joseph, and decorated with feathers, bear’s claws, and bright colored shells, as befitted a man equipped for female conquest. The wretched pagan has already three wives, whom he treats worse than beasts of burden, and I think this somewhat influenced Elizabeth, as, had he been unmarried, the prospect of being a queen, even of the wild and savage Tuscaroras, might have moved her.”

  “Ha, ha, ha,” Taryn snickered, the force of the gaiety shaking her and almost making her double over. “I can totally envision that. This woman being aghast at the marriage proposal from this ‘savage’ and yet, at the same time, thinking ‘Heeeyyy! Maybe I’ll get to be Savage Queen!’”

  David closed the book with a smirk. “People don’t change much. The lure of riches and position can sway just about anyone.”

  “Boy, isn’t that the truth,” Taryn agreed, settling back onto the bench and looking out at the water again. The sun was high in the sky, the rays soaking into her skin, but instead of the heat being oppressive she felt relaxed and at peace. She’d do her best to enjoy it, no matter how brief the sensation was.

  She was nervous when Ellen called her to her office that next morning. One of the things Taryn liked best about her job was that she didn’t have to deal with the people who hired her very often. Most would stop in from time to time to check on her work and say hello but, for the most part, they left her alone. Taryn preferred to work by herself and didn’t like someone hanging over her shoulder. Getting called in for a meeting was a bit like getting called to the principal’s office.

  Steve was standing at the valet stand when she walked up the steps. “Hey,” she whispered, sidling up to him. “Have you seen the boss lady today?”

  “For a few minutes about an hour ago,” he whispered back. “Why are we whispering?”

  “Because I’ve got a meeting with her and I don’t want to be blindsided by something bad,” Taryn kept her voice low and her head close to his. “Did she seem like she was in a bad mood?”

  “Nah,” he winked. “I think you’re good. Matter of fact, I heard her bragging on your landscape of Adena to someone this morning.”

  “Awesome.” Taryn gave him the thumbs up and went on inside.

  Ellen was waiting for her in her perfectly cool and organized office when Taryn entered. After motioning her to sit Ellen pulled out a large leather-bound ledger from a shelf behind her desk and placed it in front of Taryn. “I know you’re doing a splendid job with recreating the cottages, but I did find something a few days ago I thought might help,” she began.

  Taryn opened the heavy cover with care and peered inside. It was a scrapbook of sorts, full of photos, illustrations, old maps, newspaper clippings, and handwritten notes. She carefully flipped through the pages, taking in the contents with interest while attempting to keep her ears open to what Ellen was saying to her.

  “This is one of the many scrapbooks once kept here at the Clubhouse over the years. Unfortunately, this is one of only two that survived the great fire. The other is much more fragile and I’m afraid I can’t bring it out. I thought you might be able to garner some inspiration from it,” Ellen continued formally.

  It was, indeed, fascinating. In enthrallment, Taryn read in detail a dinner menu that included roast beef, duck, corn soufflé, and dozens of other items that all made her tummy rumble. When she looked at the date at the top, sh
e was startled to realize it was dated December 31st, the night of the fire.

  “This is great, thank you,” Taryn said. “May I sit here and go through it?”

  “By all means,” Ellen replied, sweeping her arms out in front of her. “Spend as much time as you need. Only three photographs of Adena Cottage and Ivy House exist, and two are of the interiors. Still, sometimes getting a feel for the environment as a whole can help you understand the specific parts, don’t you agree?”

  Taryn nodded; she did agree. That’s why she took her photographs and why Miss Dixie was special to her even before she’d allowed her to see the past.

  “Are you experiencing any…trouble?” Ellen lowered her voice and her cheeks reddened somewhat–the first time Taryn had seen her come close to losing her near perfect composure.

  Taryn looked up and was surprised to see soft pink spots appear on her current boss’s cheeks.

  “N-no,” Taryn replied. “I don’t think so.”

  “The cottages are tolerable then?” Ellen prodded. Her tone was gentle, yet still demanding. Taryn felt like she was being interviewed for an important position by Mrs. Claus.

  “Well, yes, they’re fine. They’re–“ Taryn stopped then, at last understanding to what Ellen was alluding. “Oh, I see. Well, it has taken some time to adjust to Ivy House but I believe we’ve reached an understanding.”

  Ellen nodded and pursed her thin lips. “I am going to say this and I don’t want you to be offended.”

  “Okay,” Taryn promised. “I’ll do my best.”

  “You weren’t our first choice to come and paint our beautiful buildings,” Ellen stated, raising her chin up a bit in near-defiance.

  Despite what Taryn had promised, she felt the beginning of spikes and, to her shame, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Wha–“

  “What I mean is,” Ellen continued, interrupting her, “that we had hired someone else first. They were here for several weeks doing what we thought was their job. As it so happened, several days went by without anyone seeing the young man at either one of the cottages. When those few days became a week I sent my assistant to check on him. He’d apparently holed up in his room here at the hotel and refused to leave, even to step out into the corridor. He claimed that the ‘ghosts’ had followed him from the cottages, Adena specifically which is interesting since it’s not the one that’s haunted, and were holding him prisoner. He’d not eaten a thing and was visibly weak with a terrible pallor. We had to call the doctor. It was an ugly affair.” Ellen trembled at the memory and shook her head in regret.

  “Oh,” Taryn replied, at a loss for words. “I’m sorry.” That was quite a bit to process, although she had wanted to jump in there and inform Ellen that Adena had more going on with it than she may have thought.

  “So you see, I had concerns when it came to hiring anyone else. It was my assistant who discovered you online,” Ellen explained. “Amy has read about your…adventures, shall we say?”

  Taryn nodded without expression.

  “We hoped that with both of your backgrounds at play that working in such an environment would not prove to be an issue for you,” Ellen finished. There was quiet steel in her voice and no warmth in her eyes as she gazed at Taryn.

  “It’s fine,” Taryn assured her, attempting to keep her face impassive. “I don’t scare easily.”

  (Eh, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. At least, so far, the ghosts had mostly liked her. None had tried to hold her prisoner, at any rate.)

  Ellen nodded, satisfied. “You see, my dear, I am a practical woman. I hold several degrees and have worked in some capacity with this facility for thirty years. It’s my home as much as my job. I’m educated and good at what I do, as well as any man. I know we have spirits, however. I know there is something special about this island, something that I don’t think exists anywhere else in the world. I do not think a belief in these things and an educated mind have to be contradictory.”

  “Neither do I,” Taryn said.

  “I also believe that many people do not treat these matters with the gravity they deserve. And they end up suffering for it,” Ellen added. “I have a feeling about you. You’re no fool, my dear. I’ve watched you. I have a touch of this, scent, myself. You’re what we needed here.”

  Taryn slumped back in her leather chair and pulled the scrapbook closer to her. “Ellen, am I here for a different reason? I mean, besides the paintings?”

  Ellen stood and walked towards the door. “I don’t know,” she said, stopping halfway to the door. “Are you? I have another appointment right now. Please, take all the time you need and then just leave the book on my desk when you’re finished.”

  Now confounded with muddled thoughts, Taryn returned to the book. She spent the next half hour leafing through the thick pages, stopping to study the images and read bits and pieces that caught her interest.

  The interior picture of Adena Cottage showed a jovial robust man standing in what looked like a parlor. To his left was a tall, good-looking blond man who appeared to be in his forties. He wore a suit, his white dress shirt radiant in the lamp light.

  The younger man’s arm was draped around a rather drab looking, much younger woman. Her weak smile appeared forced, and she slumped into the young man as though he was holding her up. Her tiny frame was almost childlike. With her flat chest, skinny arms, and tiny hands her evening dress made her look like she was playing dress-up in her mother’s clothing.

  To the right of the older gentleman was a beautiful blond, her face full of gaiety and her blond hair piled atop her head in ringlets. Her mouth was open in a laugh and the jewels on her fingers and at her neck and ears sparkled. She was the only one not looking at the camera. Instead, she was gazing at the young man. Taryn recognized that look. She’d often looked at Andrew the same way–like she wanted to crawl under his skin.

  The caption read: Rachel Hawkins, William Hawkins, Lowell McGovern, & Georgiana McGovern. Adena Cottage.

  “Huh,” Taryn said out loud. “Well, that’s interesting. Miss Rachel wasn’t much of a looker. He must have married her for some reason, though. And looks like Georgiana had the hots for him. Wonder how he felt about that…”

  The last two pages of the scrapbook were full of newspaper clippings. Taryn glossed over them, as most concerned financial information about the members of the Club. On the last page, however, something caught her eye and made her take another look. The headline read “Local Ghost Makes New Appearance.” Fascinated, Taryn pored over the article (something that looked like it might have come from a gossip section) and read aloud:

  “Mary-the-Wanderer appeared to several members of a hunting party last weekend on Jekyll Island. Mary, who has been identified on both Jekyll and St. Simon’s, was walking along the sand in the moonlight when members of the party saw her from a distance. She wore her traditional white evening gown and, as one spectator reported, appeared to be ‘floating in the air.’”

  Taryn stopped and grinned. She wondered if such a thing would be reported as “news” these days.

  “The members of the party were startled at first but carried on, assuming she meant no harm to come to them. ‘It startled me but I wasn’t particularly affronted,’ stated another member of the party. ‘A spirit isn’t meant to hurt a human soul. They’re just lost and wandering.’ Will this be the last sighting of Mary on the islands?”

  Taryn finished reading and put the book down but then immediately snatched it up again. Someone had taken the time to sketch the image of “Mary the Wanderer” at the bottom. Although it was only a sketch, and the young woman with the long, flowing hair and big dark eyes was at least fifty years younger in the newspaper, Taryn instantly recognized her as the old woman she’d met on Driftwood Beach.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” she swore. “Mary’s still out there and has upgraded herself from a long, flowing gown to a fanny pack and sandals.”

  Taryn knew, and not for the first time, that she would never
cease being shocked by the things she saw.

  Chapter 12

  “I was thinking I’d try to drive up this weekend,” Matt said.

  Taryn had been working all morning, trying to get in as much outside work as she could before the heat became too oppressive. She’d been feeling bad for the past two days, like every joint in her body was being hammered by a dull object over and over again. Her usual treatments offered little relief. The heat made it worse, but she didn’t want to get too far behind and tried to bear it, although there was no grinning involved.

  “That would be nice,” she replied absently, as she dipped her brush into the paint again and studied her canvas. The windows were giving her problems today. She didn’t know why. Ivy House was gorgeous in the morning light. Maybe she just wasn’t feeling it.

  “Do you not want me to come?” Matt asked quietly.

  “Hmmm?” It was the color, she decided at last. The color was making her shading off. She’d mixed too much green in this time. Sighing, she laid her brush down and dropped to the ground.

  “If you think I’m going to cramp your style or take up too much of your time I can come next week.” Taryn was taken aback at the soft sadness in Matt’s voice and felt promptly ashamed for not giving him her full attention.

  “Oh Matt, it’s not that I don’t want you to come. I’m just having trouble with this cottage. I was distracted. Of course I want you to come up here,” she said, trying to put more enthusiasm in her voice.

  “Are you sure? I’d really, really like to see you,” he replied, sounding hopeful.

  “Yes, I’m sure. There’s a lot of sightseeing I haven’t done yet, and it will be nice to have some company,” she assured him.