Shaker Town (Taryn's Camera Book 4) (9 page)

Taryn sat there and stared at her computer screen, trying to figure out what to write in response.

“Dear Matt, Saw a woman get attacked today. It's all cool, though, because she was already dead.”

That seemed a little harsh.

Or,

“Dear Matt, Felt some scary wind today and it smelled real bad, too.”

No, that just made it sound like she had bad gas.

How about:

“Dear Matt, Met a guy who just completely rubbed me the wrong way so I snapped at him.”

That made her look hateful.

In the end she just sent him back a short note, talked about her painting and research, and left it at that. She knew he'd read it and sense something else, Matt was good at reading what she didn't say as much as what she did, but she'd cross that bridge when she got there. She was still shaking from the murder she'd witnessed, the panic and fear on the other woman's face. The helplessness of the situation.
Why hadn't someone helped her
, Taryn cried to herself. Where was everyone?

She'd been dreading the walk back to her building but it was Friday night and the weather was nice. The guestrooms were almost completely full so others had been walking back to their accommodations as well. She'd blended in with a couple of tourists and stayed with them until she'd reached her floor. Even doing that, though, she'd felt an impending sense of dread with almost every step she took.

Now, back in her room, her fluffy housecoat was wrapped snugly around her, protecting her, and a comedy droned on the television. Taryn played around on the internet, trying different terms to plug into Google. Looking for deaths at Shaker Town, murders at Shaker Town, or even Shaker ghosts wasn't getting her anywhere. Of course there were deaths here; people moved in and many stayed until they died. And, according to the search engine at least, murders apparently just didn't happen. She knew better, but figured that even back then there were probably cover ups. News of a murder would have definitely affected enrollment of the newbies. Several sites, and even a couple of books, had write ups about Shaker ghosts but they were either in a general sense or had nothing to do with the lady she'd seen.

She was at a standstill.

On the one hand, Taryn could totally get on board with many of the Shaker ideals. After all, it was in many ways a feminist-based religion, built more on spirituality than doctrine. The Shakers had believed in gender equality, fairness, and having a personal relationship with God. The founder, Ann Lee, though considered a little loopy by some had been filled with some fascinating visions and occultist fanaticism, many of which she used to help form the ideals of her followers. Taryn, also being someone who could see the dead, had to respect a woman who not only communicated with spirits but built an entire religion around it.

Unlike the Amish, another group she was fascinated with, they not only embraced modern technology (at Pleasant Hill the women had a horse-charged washing machine) but were the first to use many advancements in the area.

There had to have been a dark side, however. Religious groups of any kind always drew extremists. And, as much as she respected the Shakers and adored the grounds and park, in today's world you had to admit they would've been seen as a cult. Albeit, a friendly and sociable one. During her research she came across stories of families joining together and one parent wishing to leave the order while the other one stayed. Vicious custody fights ensued, with the children trapped in the middle. Taryn shuddered just thinking about it.

By the time she’d fooled around online and distracted herself by falling down a few rabbit holes, it was past midnight. The movie on television had turned into some late-late-late show and a political author droned about FEMA camps, his voice monotonous and even pitched.

Taryn turned off and unplugged her laptop, it was starting to get uncomfortably hot and she was paranoid about another fire, and slipped on her nightgown. She’d just turned off the television and hopped in bed when her curtains fluttered in the window, their heaviness nearly knocking over her desk chair.

She could see from her bed that her window was closed and the air vent was on the other side of the room. Clutching her blanket up to her chin, Taryn’s nerves went into overdrive as she waited with bated breath. Did she get up and check? Call someone? And say what-hey, my curtains just moved?

She waited, certain something evil and torrid was going to fill the room and briefly turn her world upside down again, but nothing happened. The curtains settled back down, falling back against the wall with a soft thud and Taryn was left alone in a quiet room.

Well, perhaps it had just been a fluke, just a gust of wind from the air conditioner picking up more speed than usual. It was chillier than it had been earlier, she suddenly realized. Her forearms were lined with goose bumps.

And then the singing began again.

Taryn knew immediately that it was the same woman she’d heard earlier, singing the same song. The voice wasn’t in the room with her, but close enough that Taryn could hear her clearly.

Shaken with equal amounts of curiosity and fear, Taryn softly dropped to the floor and crossed over to her window, her beside lamp casting a comforting glow across the hardwood floor. There, on the expanse of lawn below her, the woman walked slowly in the moonlight, the ribbons of her bonnet flowing out behind her. Tendrils of blond hair, maybe brought loose by the breeze, fell against her shoulders and bobbed with her movement. This time Taryn could see that her dress was not white, but blue; it was the ethereal glowing around her that made it appear paler.

Like she had been in the archives room, she was peaceful as she moved along, humming the little tune under her breath. Taryn could catch a word and phrase now and then, a song about lost love and friends denying her because of the feelings that consumed her. It was nearly as haunting as the vision, those words and melody, and Taryn felt them go straight to her own heart. She watched as the figure picked up her pace, glancing over her shoulder quickly, and then headed towards the ruins of the old school house. And then Taryn watched as she slipped right through the walls and disappeared.

T
aryn had made several friends at Shaker Town, and liked most everyone she met, but it was Julie’s comments about the ghosts that had her seeking the young woman out. She had to wait until the evening, since Julie tended to work Happy Hour onward, and the day dragged by in the Kentucky heat. Taryn took far more breaks than usual, using her time unwisely, but entreatingly enough, as she strolled to the barn and babied the horses, watched the cows, and fed the ducks. Much to the confusion of a tour group, she even entertained herself for a few minutes by jogging back and forth in front of several cows, just to giggle when they turned their heads to watch her.

She created her own amusement when she was unable to find any anywhere else.

It was a little unnerving to go back and look at the schoolhouse, considering what she’d seen the night before, but now she studied it with interest. Had the woman been a teacher? Died in the building? Been attacked there? Or, had the building also been used as something else and she was going there for that purpose?

Taryn was still intimidated by the haunting aspect of the things she witnessed but the mystery part of it fascinated her. She’d trained her camera on the building several times already and hadn’t picked up on a single thing but now she tried it again, carefully walking around the ruins and keeping an eye out for spiders and snakes as she did so.

When she stopped and looked back over her shot on the LCD screen she was startled to see a perfectly restored building with curtains at the window and smoke drifting from the chimney–not a brick out of place. It was a far cry from the jumble of stones and weeds it was now.

Taryn was certain, however, that the building was important in some way and was being shown to her for a reason. Ordinarily Taryn would go inside, either by the front door or climbing through a window, and check things out. Probably aim her camera at a few corners and try to pick up on something. That wasn’t a possibility here, though, since there were no windows or doors to speak of and the roof had caved in a long time ago.

Her sleuthing would have to take place somewhere else.

It was just about time for Julie to come on, though, and after waiting to see her all day Taryn paced impatiently by the building close to the parking lot, hoping to catch her before she went inside. The bee hive was above her, still alive, and the sounds were making her nervous. Why hadn't someone taken that down and relocated it already?

“Hey Julie,” Taryn called, resisting the urge to run to her when she walked up the sidewalk. Taryn felt a little bit like a teenage girl stalking her crush by his locker. “I’m trying to catch you before you go. You got a minute?”

“Sure,” Julie smiled, removing an ear bud and hitting a button on her phone. Julie was dressed in tight-fitting pants, a button-up sweater, and leather boots. She had an infinity scarf hanging loosely around her neck and large, dangly turquoise earrings. Her makeup was expertly applied, bringing out her large brown eyes, and her hair skimming the tops of her shoulders in a casual bob. Taryn only wished she’d ever looked half as put together. “I have a few minutes.”

Now that she was in front of her, however, Taryn wasn’t sure what to say without sounding like a moron. She figured the roundabout way was the best approach.

“Well, I’ve been doing some research on the schoolhouse and came across some information. I’m just trying to find out more on it,” she began.

“Well, Dustin and Lydia probably know more about that. And maybe Bob James, the carpenter. He’s been here forever,” Julie explained.

“Yeah, well, this is kind of…sensitive,” Taryn finished lamely. “I guess I was just wondering if…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know if anyone died in that school? Or if something happened to one of the teachers?” Taryn blurted out at last.

Julie sucked in her lips in contemplation and then shrugged. “Not that I’ve heard of,” she relented at last. “Are we talking ghosts here?”

“Yeah, we are,” Taryn admitted. “I keep seeing this woman, and hearing her sing. Last night she went inside the school. I just thought that maybe she was a teacher. Or got killed in there.”

“I know a few of the ghost stories around here, but nothing involving a woman. People have seen her, like I said, but nobody’s ever come up with any explanation as to who she is.”

Taryn considered this. Perhaps she’d have to take a different approach. “What about murders? Anything like that? I tried to do some research online but couldn’t come up with anything.”

“Well,” Julie lowered her voice even though there wasn’t anyone else around. “They don’t like to talk about this but one of the elders was killed sometime around 1840,” she whispered.

“By who? And how?” Taryn was whispering too and felt a little guilty, like they were gossiping, despite the fact the alleged victim died more than one hundred fifty years before.

“I don't know how. Strangled, hit over the head with something?” Julie replied vaguely. “And nobody seems to know who did it, although I think the general consensus was that it was one of the 'world's people.'”

“Not a Shaker then?”

Julie laughed. “And if it was then that would've been hushed up real fast.”

Taryn laughed along with her and watched as Julie sobered. “Look, there's another ghost story here, one you probably don't want to know. It's, well, totally morbid.”

“Yeah?”

“Some people over in Harrodsburg and Burgin say that there's a pond nearby and that the Shakers would kill kids, mostly babies, and throw their bodies in the pond,” Julie chirped and then blushed, like she'd just been caught smoking in church.

“What?” Taryn yelped, startled. “The Shakers wouldn't have killed anyone.”

“Yeah, I know,” Julie said, but didn't look convinced. “But people say they can hear the babies crying at night. And that, supposedly, the pond was drained and skeletons were found. A lot of them.”

“It wouldn't have made sense for the Shakers to kill kids,” Taryn mused, mostly to herself. “Their population grew by encouraging folks to join. I mean, the little windows in the meeting house were for the elders to sit and observe the tourists so they could find ones that might be approachable and willing to try them out. They couldn't afford to reduce their population.”

“It doesn't make sense to me, either,” Julie admitted. “But that's just what I've heard.”

“Have you ever heard the babies crying?” Taryn asked with a shudder.

“N-no. I mean, I don't think I did. I heard something once. But it was probably a cat crying,” Julie added in a rush.

George walked up then, with a look of consternation. “Doesn't anyone work around here?” he grumbled.

“Oh George, you're so grouchy,” Julie teased him.

He was having none of that, though. “All you girls ever do is stand around and gossip. You don't do shit. You,” he pointed at Julie, “you just flirt with men you think will give you money.”

Julie's mouth dropped open and when she tried to speak, nothing would come out.

Taryn took a step closer and put her hand on his shoulder. He felt cold and stiff. “George?” she asked softly. “Are you sick?”

He turned to her then, eyes dead and vacant. “And you! You don't do anything they couldn't hire a kid with finger paints to do and they're actually paying you! What a fucking crock!”

Taryn's face paled and she took a step back. When George reached out to grab her by the wrist and yank her closer, however, there was a loud roar that filled the air and shook them all. None of them would be able to tell anyone what happened next or how it happened but the tour group who was standing nearby, waiting to go in for supper, said it looked as though the hive had just come loose and flown through the air. George was in the unfortunate location of being in the exact spot where it landed.

B
ecause of what happened down in Georgia she was trying to learn to take care of herself more, to not depend so much on Matt. She felt like she was crossing boundaries with the ghosts even more than sleeping with him. It had nearly gotten him killed and she'd rather die herself.

But now she called him. There were times when you just needed reinforcements.

“I need help,” Taryn sighed into the phone.

“You need me to come up there?” he asked with interest.

“No,” Taryn retorted, a little offended. “I think we can handle it over the phone.”

“Oh, sorry.” Now he sounded sad. “I'm just looking for an excuse to jump ship and come see you. I miss you.”

“Oh, well,” Taryn softened. “I thought you couldn't leave work?”

“Turns out I am starting not to care so much. That reminds me...how would you feel about me looking for a job around Nashville? Finding a place with you. Not that your apartment isn't...lovely,” he added in distaste.

“And leave NASA?” Taryn was shocked. He'd actually gone to university and studied aeronautical engineering so that he could specifically work at NASA. “I don't think you're going to find anything comparable in Nashville.”

“There's a science museum or something, isn't there?” he mused. She could almost see him staring off into space, lost in his head, like he did as a child.

“Not quite the same, dude.”

They were off topic now, as frequently happened, and it was up to Taryn to rein him back in. Still, it was a topic they'd eventually have to revisit. “My problem?” she asked gently.

“Right. Sorry. So what's up?”

“Shaker Town is haunted,” she began grandly.

“Yeah?”

“We're not talking your typical dead people here, Matt,” she sniffed. “There's the classic woman in white, the evil lurker, and maybe even dead babies this time.”

“Ooooh. Well those don't sound good. Except for maybe the woman in white. She seemed okay in that Halloween movie with the creepy little kid.”

“You're thinking 'The Lady in White',” Taryn reminded him. “Now I don't know about the infants. I have a feeling that might just be an urban legend. I hope to goodness it is. I can't even watch a movie where a child dies. And what we learned at Griffith Tavern about killed me.”

“Well, fingers crossed on that one. I don't do dead children either. I can barely handle dead adults. So what's the issue, exactly?”

“Oh, you know, same old thing,” Taryn answered. “I see dead people, my camera sees dead people, and Shaggy, there's a mystery to solve.”

“What makes this one different than the others?” Matt asked with reason.

“That I don't know who or what it is I guess. And that irritates me,” Taryn admitted. “The Shakers lived here for a long time and millions of people have been on the grounds. It could be anyone.”

“Is there a chance the haunting is benign and has nothing to do with you? That the ghosts are just going on with their deadly business and you're just sensitive to them?” Matt asked gently.

“Maybe...”

“That maybe you're not supposed to do anything about it? We did talk about that once. That you're going to have to get used to sometimes not doing anything at all,” he pointed out.

He was right, of course. Just because Miss Dixie picked up on a chair or table and just because she heard an undead concert in the middle of the night didn't mean she was being summoned for something.

“So what do I do?” she asked. “What's the sign, so to speak, that I am supposed to be waiting for? A ghost to pass me a note at dinner? Where do I draw that line?”