Windwood Farm (Taryn's Camera) (26 page)

“Well, I can’t say this is one job that I am going to miss. But I will miss you. And the food.”

“I’m taking a break,” Tammy called into the kitchen. A grumble of noises came back out and Tammy waved them away as she slid in across from Taryn. “Nobody else here, anyway. Breakfast rush is over.”

Taryn was still sore and figured that she’d have nightmares for years over what had happened
, like she needed any more reasons not to be able to sleep. She hadn’t been back out to the house since the night she went looking for the well. Part of her wanted to go, just to see if the air changed. The other part was too afraid of what she might see, or not see.

“Do you think it’s over?” Tammy asked, as if reading her mind.

It took Taryn a second to realize she was talking about Windwood Farm and not what she had been experiencing through her camera. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe Clara’s soul can rest now, and Donald’s. I don’t know about the other. With new people and new houses and a new lease on life, the property might just bounce back from this.”

“And it might not,” Tammy added.

“And it might not,” Taryn echoed.

“Who knows,” Tammy laughed
, the sound filling the diner; a symbol of hope. “The old place might not even let them tear it down!”

T
he interstate was surprisingly empty as she headed out of Stokes County and pointed her car southbound. It was a clear blue day and even though her shoulder hurt like hell and she’d had to spend a week in the hospital recovering, most of her felt good. The house was going to be demolished sooner rather than later and this time it felt right.

“It’s not a good place,
Matt,” she spoke into her phone. “It might have been at one time, but it’s not anymore. It just needs to go. There are just too many bad memories for that house and land. It’s time for some happy ones. I hate subdivisions, but maybe once it’s filled with families and laughter, the bad energy it’s clinging onto will disappear.”

“Are
you
okay?” he must have said a thousand prayers for her, and he wasn’t even the praying kind. It was the thought of angering her that kept him away this time, but he wouldn’t let that hold him back if it happened again.

“I feel good,” she said truthfully. “I’m doing something that feels right. I have no idea what this means for me, but I think I’m ready for it.”

Coming in August 2014

Griffith Tavern

Book Two in Taryn’s Camera Series

Visit
www.tarynscamera.com

It took a few different people over the course of several years to make this book happen. Thank you to Wanda, Angie, Jennifer, Ginger, and Amy for giving it a read before anyone else. Special thanks to my mom for proofing it for me and catching the weird mistakes, like when I called characters by the wrong name (hey, when it takes you 5 years to write a book, it’s bound to happen).
Special thanks to Joette Morris Gates who had no idea what she was getting into when I asked her to give it a read and then promptly got hit with approximately 10,000 questions and diligently answered them all. This story was inspired in equal parts by a dream, song lyrics, and a deserted house my husband and I stumbled across one winter’s day. I thought my imagination was twisted and then my husband came up with some of the other crazy ideas for the book so as it turns out, we’re well-matched after all. Truth can be as strange as fiction: Clara’s bedroom actually does exist. Let’s hope the real story isn’t as crazy as the one in my head. This book is dedicated to one of the most unique and interesting women I have ever known. She encouraged me to write my first ghost story almost 26 years ago. Hopefully, my grammar has improved somewhat. (Some may or may not agree.)