Griffith Tavern (Taryn's Camera Book 2) (17 page)

I
know his parents,” Delphina stated, her lips pursed in concentration. “A very nice, respectable young man.”

This morning Delphina was dressed in purple polyester slacks and a white pullover with small irises blooming down the front. Her hair was pinned and sprayed in place; she looked very prim and proper (albeit, colorful). Taryn was in her bathrobe.

“We had a very nice time,” Taryn said, digging into her stack of blueberry pancakes. “I’d forgotten how much I enjoy riding. I’m going to see him again. He asked me before I left.”

“So he’s intelligent, too,” Delphina nodded. “Good. A smart man doesn’t let a good woman get away.”

Taryn’s phone rang and she excused herself. It was 8:00 am on a Saturday and Daniel was calling, something that hadn’t happened before.

“Daniel?” she answered, a little confused. “Everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” His voice was hard, bitter.

“What’s up? Am I fired?” she joked.

“It’s not you,” he seethed. “You know the Kickstarter campaign Joe started?”

“Yeah. I looked at it myself and sent it around to some friends. What’s the matter?”

“We were up almost $6,000. Not a lot, I know, but it was a good start. Today three of the backers pulled out. Almost half of the money. No reason. They just quit.”

“Well that’s weird,” she mused. “What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know,” he sputtered in exasperation. “Two of the guys own businesses here in town. One’s a chiropractor and one has a tree removal service. The other is a professor of mine. I’m going to go talk to them, see what’s up.”

“I don’t blame you for being upset,” she cajoled, trying to calm him down although she was nearly as upset as him. “But remember, when you speak to them, be professional. Don’t let them see you upset.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said sullenly. “It just makes me so mad. And disappointed. We hit walls everywhere we turn, it feels like.”

“How’s the grant coming along?”

“We hope to hear something on Monday. Also applied for some loans, too. They’re not much but, well, you know. We’re hoping if we can get at least some cash together maybe the owner will work with us.”

It was a longshot, especially considering what she was sure the development company was offering, but at least they were trying. That was the important thing.

“I’m going to go on out there later this afternoon. If you want to talk you know where I’ll be.”

The conversation left her heated and frustrated. The kids were
trying
, that was more than most people did, yet their actions felt fruitless. She was disappointed
for
them.

When Delphina came back into the room, Taryn was pacing, her pancakes forgotten. “Everything okay, dear?”

“Just some problems with funding,” she explained. “Some backers pulled their money out and didn’t give a reason. I almost feel like someone is trying to sabotage their efforts.”

“It’s always a money issue. I wish we could go back to bartering,” Delphina muttered.

“You and me both,” Taryn agreed.

She was finished eating but now she sat back down in her chair, trying to summon up the courage to ask Delphina what was on her mind. Finally, she just took a deep breath and went for it. “Listen, I wanted to ask you something, but I don’t want to sound crazy.”

“I highly doubt you could do that,” Delphina smiled. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you, um, ever seen a ghost here? Or felt anything? Heard anything?”

Delphina studied her, considering, and then shook her head. “No,” she replied a little sadly. “I haven’t. It’s just me here. Sometimes I think if this place was haunted then at least I’d have a little company.”

H
is hands were rough against her skin, their calluses scraping the delicate curve of her hips. She fought him like a wild animal as he clawed at her breasts and tore the fabric from her, the thick cotton shredding like silk. The room was so dark she could barely make out his features, but she knew who he was; he’d been watching her all night downstairs. Had grabbed at her once as she walked by. If only she’d told James…

The whiskey on his breath was sour. The acrid scent filled her nostrils and made her stomach churn until she could feel the bile rose in her throat. It would serve him right if she was sick on him, she thought as she scratched at his eyes, his nose, whatever she could grab ahold of.

The drink didn’t make him any weaker. He might have been intoxicated, but he still outweighed her and his large frame crushed her tiny body. She attempted to scream as he tugged his trousers down and she felt his pulsating manhood against her naked thigh, but he pushed the blanket around her face until she gagged on it, unable now to catch her breath at all. The music and laughter downstairs was loud, vibrating the walls as she thrashed against him. She was only a few feet from those who might save her but none knew she struggled.

With lightning-quick speed he sought her tender entrance and pressed forward. Refusing to quit fighting, she tossed from side to side, kicking her legs with all her strength and bucking as he laughed in her face, his breath a putrid cloud of poison. She might die, but she wouldn’t go down easily.

Then, she felt a weakness. The drink might not have hurt his strength, but it
did
hurt other things. Try as he might, he was unable to enter her. Just when she thought she might die from lack of air, he moved his hands from her face and the blanket as he tried to guide himself forward. She could feel him, soft and wilted, against her tight muscles. He used his rough fingers to push and tear her and blood seeped from her wound but he was still unable to do what he sought.

Using this as an opportunity, despite her fear and pain, she rammed her fists at his chest and face, almost throwing to him to the floor. Now, though, he’d lost interest in her nether regions. If he couldn’t have her there, he’d find another outlet for his energy.

With a startling force he slapped her across the face. The act left her stunned; she saw stars, even in the darkness. Her gasp drove him forward like a moan of pleasure might. Using his fists now, he pummeled and pounded her chest, her head, her stomach, and her arms until she finally slipped into blackness.

Taryn woke up thrashing and moaning, her face wet with tears, acid in her throat. Her blankets were in a disheveled heap on the floor and her pillow was across the room where she must have thrown it. As soon as she realized she was awake she jumped out of bed and threw on the light. Standing in the middle of her modern bedroom, alone, with her arms out in front of her still in defense mode it was hard to believe that just moments ago she was fighting off an invisible attacker that felt so real she could still feel his fists and smell the liquor on his breath. Her heart was racing, the adrenalin so strong she felt like she could’ve easily ran a mile.

Nobody had ever forced Taryn into sex before; she’d never known anything but gentleness and kindness in that act. But she’d felt him trying to push into her, felt her own muscles fight against him, felt herself ripping. It was a primal violation that left her angered and frightened and even a little guilty, although she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong. At the edge of these feelings was the ghost of embarrassment, too. Something like that didn’t happen to her, wasn’t supposed to.

But it was just a dream. Just a dream, she reminded herself.

Still trembling, she made her way to her bed and turned on the television. A rerun of “The Brady Bunch” was playing, the episode with Davy Jones on. Taryn turned up the volume and unsteadily climbed back into bed and picked up her phone.

To Matt: “Blind and Afraid of the Dark.”

A few moments later, the “Law and Order” tone. To Taryn: “Every Light in the House is On.”

T
aryn stepped out of the abandoned school clutching Miss Dixie in hand, beaming from ear to ear. “That was amazing,” she breathed happily. “The desks are still in there! How long has it been closed?”

“About ten years,” Jamie answered, closing the door firmly behind him. “They closed it when they built the new one across town. This one was built with WPA money. It was dated. I still love it, though. I went to school here.”

They began walking back to Jamie’s truck, Taryn stopping every few feet to turn and stare at the two story brick building behind them. “The newer schools are modern, sterile. They might be better, but they lack character. I mean, the entrance alone is worth salvaging.”

“I love all the woodwork in these older places,” Jamie agreed. “The floors, the tall doors, the details. They don’t build them like they used to.”

He’d promised to take her exploring and he had. The old ivy-covered school had a caved in roof from a tornado the year before and extensive water damage, but Taryn looked past that. Instead, she heard the laughter of children, the running of feet down the hallways, locker doors slamming. She could still hear basketballs pounding the floors in the gym, doors banging, and the bell signaling the start and end of the day.

“You hungry?” he asked once they were in his truck.

“I could eat.”

Once they were seated in the small café in town they went through some of her pictures, Jamie telling her more stories about the school and some of the antics he’d gotten into as an elementary student. Taryn found herself laughing and enjoying herself again. The bad dream she’d had a few nights ago still weighed heavy on her mind but it was good to focus on other things. That’s why she was glad when he called her and asked her out again.

“So what’s going on with the project?”

“They lost some money,” she sighed, biting into her pepper jack burger. “I don’t know why. Daniel was supposed to go talk to some of the donors and sort it out. I haven’t heard anything yet.”

“So if they don’t raise the money…”

“They don’t get the tavern. I want to help them, but I’m almost finished with the painting and I don’t know where to go from here.”

“Do you think they can earn it?” She liked the fact he was so interested. Having someone to talk to about her work was fun. Matt was so used to what she did he rarely expressed interest in it, although he was always willing to listen if she needed to get something off her chest.

“I honestly don’t know. Stranger things have happened. There’s a lot of people out there who want to help projects like these. If their campaign got in the right hands…maybe.”

They continued eating in silence, Taryn lost in her thoughts. She’d contacted Eve and introduced herself. She hadn’t heard back from her yet but she was hopeful. She was placing a big amount of importance on what the letters might say.

“You look like you have something on your mind,” Jamie said at last. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Nothing important I guess,” she shrugged, trying to smile brightly. “Just some other things going on.”

“Like what? I’m all ears.”

“You’d think I was cracked if I told you.”

“I don’t know, Taryn; try me.” He looked so earnest with his serious eyes and soft smile she couldn’t help but want to talk to him. But it was only their second date. She didn’t want to scare him off. Still, the chance their relationship would even go anywhere was very slim anyway. The job would end, she’d move on, and they’d lose touch. That’s just the way things happened.

“Okay.” She set down her sandwich and took a big drink of Pepsi. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Just like that?”

“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “I don’t believe everyone who thinks they had a paranormal experience actually had one, but I do believe ghosts exist.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I believe in a god,” he shrugged. “I believe in a higher power, in an afterlife, in a soul. A ghost just seems to fit right in there. Maybe it’s leftover energy, maybe it’s just a memory, or maybe it IS the spirit of a person who has passed on. But I can’t believe in a higher power without believing the body has a soul. And if I believe in a soul, I don’t see it being that big of a stretch to think the soul can travel.”

“That’s a very good answer. I am not religious at all. I don’t even know what I believe. I believe in something, but I can’t put it into words. I’m not very good at that. But I believe in ghosts. I see them.”

“As in you see dead people?” he smiled at her, but he wasn’t making fun.

“Okay, here’s the thing. I’m not one of these people who think they have a special power and nobody else can do what they do,” she explained. “I think ghosts exist and everyone has the capacity to see and hear them. Maybe some people are more tuned in than others; maybe some people explain them away and don’t give them credit for what they are. I don’t know. What I can do, though, is see them in a way I’ve never known anyone else to.”

She briefly gave him a rundown on Miss Dixie and her capacity to see the dead, and their belongings, through her camera.

“That’s amazing,” Jamie said when she finished. “It’s almost like your camera allows you to time travel. Is it just
that
camera?”

“No, but I wondered that myself. The thing is, it was just the camera, with the occasional weird feelings and stuff. Now, though, it seems to be getting stronger. I’m seeing and hearing a lot of things outside the camera. And, I know this sounds weird, I think I’m even being visited in my dreams.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he murmured. “It seems like something you could develop, make it stronger. And that’s what you’re doing, even if it’s unintentional.”

“It just started all of a sudden. Just a few months ago, out of the blue.”

“Now
that
I’m not sure I believe,” he laughed.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, how long have you loved old buildings? Loved exploring? Been into urbex?”

She tapped her fingers on the table, considering. “All my life, really. When I was a kid I used to love the movies with the old houses. And as a teenager mine and my friend’s idea of fun was to drive around and look at them and explore when we could. Later, I made a degree out of it in college. But nothing paranormal ever happened in them. Well, except for when I was a little kid. But that wasn’t an old house.”

“Maybe you’re looking at it all wrong,” he suggested. “Have you ever thought perhaps you were drawn to these interests because of something inside you? That it was your ability to feel for the buildings and the stories making you interested in them? Maybe you couldn’t actually see the people and their possessions plainly like you do now, but you’ve always felt them. You just didn’t know what that feeling was.”

The idea was a good one, and even a little frightening. When she’d looked at empty rooms in the past and saw them filled with furniture in her mind, she’d always thought she just had a big imagination. But what if it hadn’t been her imagination at all? What if back then she was actually feeling things she was now seeing?

“When I was little,” she whispered, “I had a bad night. I was staying with my grandmother. I crawled up into her bed and buried my head in her arm. She whispered something to me that night. It made me feel…better. More secure.”

“What did she say?” Jamie whispered back, his eyes focused on her.

“For the longest time I couldn’t remember. It was like I’d blocked it out. But then I was in the hospital over the summer and it came to me. Just out of the blue. She said, ‘This is all for you. You’re here for a reason.’”

“That comforted you?”

“Yes,” Taryn nodded. “I didn’t feel defenseless anymore. I felt empowered, important. I think maybe I’ve carried that with me, even though I couldn’t exactly remember the words.”

“My grandmother taught me to play poker,” he stated, twitching his lips.

They both broke out into peals of laughter.

Y
ou did what?” Matt demanded.

“I actually kissed a man,” Taryn laughed, doing a little twirl in her bedroom. She felt like a teenager. “It’s the first real kiss I’ve had in years. I thought it was going to be strange, but it wasn’t. You would approve; he was a complete gentleman.”

Matt was silent.

“Oh, come on. Don’t you want me to get back on the horse?”

“Do you have to be crude about it?” he complained.

“Oh, you’re taking me too literally. We’re not going to go jump in the sack…yet.”

“You would do that?” he asked, appalled.

“I am an adult, Matt,” she replied. “What’s wrong with sleeping someone you like and are attracted to?”

“There is no good reason for you to do it,” he muttered.

“Oh, there’s plenty of reasons for me to do it. And good ones, too. But I don’t need to justify it. I can do it simply because I want to. And what are you, my dad?” she demanded.

“I just don’t know if I can talk to you right now,” he seethed. “This upsets me.”

“Matt!” She was honestly shocked at his behavior. “We’re not teenagers. And you do realize we’re talking about hypothetical sex don’t you? We haven’t even planned the next date yet.”

“Just tell me about your work,” he said at last, changing the subject.

She hung up the phone feeling bad. She’d suspected Matt had a thing for her over the years but neither one of them had ever acted upon it, not even when they’d had the chance. There was a time in high school when they’d exchanged some love letters and she’d sworn she was completely in love with him, but she was thirteen at the time. He’d never made a real move on her and, months later, when she met Andy Moody (the new kid from New Jersey) she’s fallen head over heels for him and that was the end of that.

Of course, there was the time when she was twenty-one and they’d shared the Christmas Eve kiss. She couldn’t forget that. It was snowing, the first snow she’d seen in a long time. She and Matt had celebrated Christmas Eve at the Opryland Hotel in Nashville. They’d seen a show and then gone to dinner at the hotel. It was late when they got out and they pretty much had the atriums to themselves as they walked around. She was wearing tall high heels and her feet had been killing her. She held on first to his arm and then to his hand as he supported her around the hotel. He kept insisting they leave so she could rest her feet, but she loved the hotel, especially at Christmas, and she didn’t want to waste it that night. It was beautiful with its Christmas lights sparkling through the trees like fireflies, the soft holiday music playing, and the bubbling indoor stream.

She’d finally allowed him to move her to a bench. It was secluded, hidden by trees and poinsettia arrangements. Nobody bothered them or even walked by. Above them, in rooms with balconies overlooking the atrium, she could see television sets playing and people tucked away in their rooms. But she felt as though they were alone.

At first he had simply bent forward and rested his forehead on hers. They’d laughed then because the curve of her nose perfectly cradled his forehead, as though their faces were made for one another. They’d stayed like that for a second, only inches apart. She could feel his warm breath on her cheeks, on her lips. Then she’d reached up and touched the back of his head just so she could run her fingers through his hair. It was smooth and silky, soft as a baby’s. She’d touched his head before, but it had never felt like that. One of them had moved just a little then and their lips made contact. There was no urgency in what they did, but it was forceful.