Griffith Tavern (Taryn's Camera Book 2) (21 page)

It didn’t matter. They were all dead now. And somehow Permelia and James had come up with the money to build their pavilion and stay afloat for a long time.

The television was set to a local channel so she could watch “Dancing with the Stars.” She hadn’t been paying much attention to it, but did now as something caught her ear. The 11 o’clock news was on and a name made her stop and turn around. Jamie’s golden face appeared on her screen, a photograph of him flashing his wide smile. She stopped what she was doing and sat down on the edge of her bed.

“…when he didn’t show up for work on Wednesday,” the newscaster was announcing. “His truck is still in his driveway but the thirty-five-year-old man hasn’t been spotted since Tuesday morning. Friends and family are asking for anyone with information to contact the Wise County sheriff’s department at-“

Taryn was speechless, the blood drained from her face. Jamie had…disappeared? What the hell? No wonder he wasn’t answering her calls and texts. What could’ve happened?

Unable to look at his face on the screen, she flipped off the television and moved to her window. It was pitch black outside, the nearest twinkling lights of Main Street muted in the fog. He only lived a mile from the B&B. And yet, he’d been that close and something awful had happened to him and she didn’t even know it.

Unless…

She quickly shook the thought out of her head. She couldn’t believe Jamie had anything to do with the fire. It was just a coincidence his disappearance had happened a day after the fire. He loved old buildings, loved to explore. He wouldn’t destroy something like that. He wouldn’t set it on fire and just leave.

Unless, of course, someone offered him money to do just that. Money could be a dangling carrot even the strongest had trouble resisting.

S
he struggled to get up the next morning. Getting dressed, brushing her hair, washing her face…all these things took energy she didn’t have. She broke out into a sweat while brushing her teeth; this act alone was almost too much. When she went downstairs, Delphina took one look at her and came running over. “My Lord, child, are you sick?”

Taryn let her fuss over her, let her pour her some orange juice and brush the hair back from her forehead. “You don’t feel hot,” she murmured, “but you’re white as a ghost and clammy.”

“I don’t think I slept well last night,” Taryn explained weakly. She was hungry but after two bites of biscuit her stomach was cramping; bile rose in her throat.

“Well, no offense dear, but you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she admitted to this grandmotherly woman. It felt nice to be fawned over.

“Is it the room? Is it too hot, too cold? Do you need an extra pillow?”

“I think it’s fine,” she replied. “It’s just me. I never sleep well anyway and in the past few months I’ve just felt rundown, you know?”

“You need to get yourself to a doctor,” Delphina lectured. “I don’t want to be an alarmist but that cancer can sneak up on you if you’re not careful. I belong to the Women’s Club here in town and we lose a member almost every year; women who looked and acted perfectly fine and then went to their doctor one day and found out they were eat up.”

Well, that was a cheery thought first thing in the morning.

“I don’t know if I’m truly sick. I’ve had a lot of…things…happen in the past few months. I guess I’m still trying to deal with them. And then last night I heard about Jamie’s disappearance.”

Delphina shook her head and took a seat across from Taryn, evidently reassured she wasn’t going to drop over dead within the next few minutes. “Such an awful thing. And his mama is out of her mind. I don’t have any children, of course, but I can only imagine what his poor parents much be going through. And I hadn’t even thought about how you would feel. I’m very sorry.”

She looked like she meant it and the compassion in her watery old eyes made Taryn feel like crying. She was used to people paying attention to her, most often in a professional capacity, but it was rare for someone to actually express concern. “I just hope he’s okay.”

“I hope so, too. You realize, Taryn, this isn’t your fault,” Delphina said gently.

Her kindness hurt. “I know,” she whispered, tears burning her eyes.

“And your husband’s death, it wasn’t your fault either.”

“We’d argued. I wasn’t even that sick. Just tired. I could’ve gone with him.”

“And died too? Would that have been better?” Delphina asked mildly.

“I don’t know. For me, maybe. I don’t know what kind of afterlife there really is, but it has to be better than what I feel here most of the time.” She was never this honest with a virtual stranger, but she was exhausted and sometimes talking helped. She wasn’t receiving any judgment for her words; she could sense that.

“Maybe it would’ve been better for you,” Delphina agreed. “But for your friend, your Matt? What about him? And others who care about you that you might not even realize. What about those you’ve worked for since? You’ve brought a different kind of joy to them.”

“They would’ve found someone else,” Taryn said curtly.

“Ah, yes, they would have,” Delphina granted. “But that someone else wouldn’t have been you. You must start valuing yourself and what you have to offer. Nobody else can take your place.”

Taryn smiled at the words and sentiment. “I don’t always feel this way. I guess I’m just a little down.”

“I don’t blame you. I understand. When my own husband left I also considered leaving this world, if you understand my meaning. He was my life, my friend. I felt like I had nothing but him. I still feel that way sometimes, despite the fact I fill my days with the Women’s Club, the Gardening Club, and all those other silly things taking up time and energy. Sometimes I feel like my life has been in limbo since he left, like I’m just waiting for the next part to start.”

“I feel that way, too,” Taryn said. “I thought Jamie was helping that.”

Pain clouded Delphina’s eyes and she reached across the table and took Taryn’s hand in her own. “The important thing is that you took the step. Next time, it will be even easier. Your strength is within
you
, not gathered from someone else. You must remember that.”

T
aryn put the finishing strokes on her main painting that night. She’d let it rest for a day and then go back to it with fresh eyes and make any necessary changes. Daniel had written her earlier; their bank loan was denied. He was up to almost $70,000 in donations but that was barely half of what they needed. Their option ended at the end of the week. They wouldn’t be able to buy it.

“The damn developer was out here today, walking around with his little crew and making notes,” he complained. “The owners were here, too. They didn’t look happy but they almost looked,
relieved
I guess. Their financial troubles will be over when they get paid. And the tavern will be gone.”

“Daniel, let me ask you something…” She was curled up in the white wicker chair by her window, watching the front yard where Delphina was strolling around her rose bushes, lovingly clipping them back.

“Yeah, shoot.”

“You just graduated from college. And the other members in your group, they’re still there. What happens to the Friends of Griffith Tavern when you’ve all graduated and gone your separate ways? I had a professor once who said college was a horrible place to meet someone you wanted to marry because everyone was just in transition.”

Daniel sighed. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my home. I actually have a good job with the state. I commute. And the others, well, I know they’ll scatter. This holds their interest as long as they’re here, but I can’t expect them to be as passionate about it as I am. That’s why I’m constantly recruiting new, younger members. We might have a big turnover, but as long as the passion is there that’s what matters.”

“And if the tavern becomes demolished? What then? What happens to your organization?”

“It’s gone. But maybe I’ll form another one, a more general one for historical preservation. There’s always something needing to be saved,” he declared.

Taryn hung up the phone feeling depressed. They’d tried but almost certainly failed. It would be gone and everyone would move on, including her. Permelia’s dream was over. James’ vision was gone. Time had moved on and left them behind a long time ago, just like time had moved on and left her and Andrew in the past.

Feeling like her world was not so much crumbling but slowly dissolving into oblivion, Taryn walked over to her bed and fell down to it. She cried silently at first, and then loudly. Huge wracking sobs that physically hurt her. She cried until her nose and throat were raw. She cried for Andrew, for his boyish good looks that would never grow old or never fade. She cried for his enthusiasm, his warmth, his ability to make everyone in the room feel special. She cried for his passion for historical architecture, his love of the past and the fact that he was now a part of it. She cried because it wasn’t fair that she could see other people’s ghosts but he had never once visited her; he’d moved on as surely she could not.

Then she cried for herself. She cried out of pity for her inability to look at anything she did without thinking how much better it would be if Andrew were with her. She cried for her lack of close girlfriends, for her lack of family. She cried for her head that seemed to hurt all the time, for the sleep she wasn’t able to get, for her body she constantly fought with. She cried for her parents who loved her but didn’t know how to show it, for her grandmother who had showed it but then left her alone too soon, for Jamie she was just getting to know and like.

Lastly, she cried for Matt. She cried because she wanted to feel him next to her, his arms around her. She wanted to feel his forehead pressing into hers again, wanted to feel that silky smoothness of his hair under her fingers again. She cried because she was afraid she’d kept him on the back burner too long and that the chance with him was gone, swept away by her selfishness.

When she was finished crying she got up, blew her nose, turned her pillow over to the dry side, and turned on her television. Some channel was playing the original “The Amityville Horror.” She left it on.

Then, she went to her phone. Pulling up Matt’s name, she typed:

Travis Tritt’s “Anymore”

And closed her eyes as she sent “send.”

I
t’s absolutely amazing,” Daniel breathed. The painting was propped up against the wall, resting on the table in the café’s booth. Joe and the others gathered around it and all made the appropriate “oohs” and “ahhs.”

“I mean, I knew you could paint well, but this is truly unbelievable. I feel like I could walk right into it. You can see the lines in the brick, the roughness of the wood,” Joe said enthusiastically. “It’s hard to believe this is even a painting.”

“Believe it or not, I get flack for that,” Taryn laughed. “People say I shouldn’t paint to look like photographs. That I should just photograph if I want it to be so realistic.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know anything about art but this looks like it to me. And it’s exactly what we needed,” Daniel said sincerely.

“I’m glad you like it because…” Taryn let her voice trail off as she reached down into her cotton carrying case and pulled out the second painting, “I also did this. No extra charge, just a present.”

The group was silent as they gathered in closer. She watched Daniel’s eyes as they first lit up and then dampened. “It’s beautiful. Even better than the other one. I can’t believe you were able to do this.”

“After the fire I thought you might want something to remember the tavern by. And so your architect will have something better to work with,” she added.

Everyone was silent as they gazed down at their hands and feet. Finally, Joe spoke. “There isn’t going to be any renovation. We lose our option to purchase in a few days. We don’t have the money. It’s over.”

The others nodded.

“It’s not over until it’s over,” Taryn avowed. “Something could
still
happen.”

“Yeah,” Willow smirked. “Something
bad
. They’re talking about a Jamison’s and a Target. Not that I don’t want more shopping options here, but I don’t know that I can stick around and watch. I love that old place. And what happened there…it makes me feel a part of it.”

“We all read Permelia’s letters,” Daniel explained, wrapping an arm around Willow’s waist. “We all feel a little closer to her now.”

“Her baby died, her husband died, and she was STILL able to run it, carry on business as usual,” Willow exclaimed. “How can you not admire someone like that?”

Taryn hadn’t told Daniel what she and Matt had come up with in regards to the drunken traveler and his untimely drop into the sinkhole. Maybe nobody needed to know that. Maybe it didn’t make a difference.

“I’m sorry to have to go,” Taryn said. “I feel like I’m leaving you in a lurch.”  Her plane left the day after tomorrow. And then it was back to Nashville for a few weeks until she sorted out her next job. At least all the bills were paid.

“We’ll keep in touch, though,” Daniel said. “Hopefully we’ll need you for another project in the future.”

M
att hadn’t written her back yet. That stung. Normally he’d respond at least within the hour, if not immediately. But he was busy and she had to remember that he wasn’t at her beck and call, no matter how much she felt like she needed him. She needed to quit relying on him so much. He didn’t belong to her. 

For the first time ever she felt like she was leaving with something unfinished. Everything, other than her painting that is, was still hanging in the air, incomplete.

There was nothing she could do, though. She’d uncovered Permelia’s attack and her unknown infant. What else was there to do? She’d done the job she was hired for. The tavern, Permelia, and Daniel couldn’t expect any more out of her. She wasn’t sure she had anything left to give.

The television didn’t offer any further news about Jamie’s disappearance. Neighbors last spotted him Sunday morning as he got in his truck and sped away. Later that night he’d come home. His truck was still in the driveway. Nobody saw him drive home, or knew where he’d been all day, but the investigators placed his disappearance to be sometime late Sunday night or very early Monday morning since he didn’t report to the stables for work the next day. Nothing in the house was disturbed but they were not ruling out a robbery. Taryn had a dozen questions to ask: was there still money in his bank account, did he seem upset Sunday morning, did he use his credit card on Sunday, was he in any kind of financial trouble, had any large deposits been made to his account, etc. But she figured the detectives were probably on top of that and didn’t need her help.

Someone had come by and talked to her, a Detective Sallee. She didn’t have much to add, she was sorry to say. She wished she did. As one of the last people to see him, though, they’d had to ask.

Taryn busied herself with packing her bags. It always took her at least a day to pack since she was notorious for bringing everything but the kitchen sink. She knew how to pack lightly; she just preferred not to.

Leaving out only two changes of clothes and a few toiletries, she set her bags by her bedroom door. The fees for checked luggage had become so ridiculously high it had cut down on the number of suitcases she packed when she flew. It didn’t cut down on how much stuff she brought, though. She’d just learned how to pack better and really stuff it in there.

She did need to talk to Delphina. She wanted to ask her if she could take her breakfast on the road since she’d need to get up early and wasn’t much of a morning person to begin with. She hadn’t seen Delphina much over the past few days, just here and there. Delphina had been even quitter than usual. Taryn wondered if Delphina would miss her when she was gone. Having basically lived with her for the past month, she thought she might miss the older woman. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together, but it was comforting to know she was there.

Delphina wasn’t out in her gardens, on the porch, or in the kitchen. Her bedroom door was standing wide open, the bed made with military precision. Taryn wandered around, calling out her name, but nobody answered. She had to be there, though, because her car was in the driveway and Delphina never walked anywhere. It was too hard on her hips and knees, thanks to her arthritis.

She was about to give up and head back up the stairs when she noticed the basement door, usually chained and locked, was cracked open just a little. A thin ray of light shot out from around it. Opening it a little wider, Taryn poked her head inside and called down, “Delphina! Are you down there?”

There was no answer. The stairs were steep, and though illuminated by a naked light bulb dangling from the ceiling above them, they were still dark. She worried Delphina might have lost her balance and fallen. She didn’t like nosing around, at least not in a house that was actually lived in, but what if she was down below, unconscious? Making an executive decision, and hoping she wasn’t prying, she hurried down the stairs, making sure to hold onto the rickety bannister as she went. “Delphina?” she called again. Silence.

The main room at the bottom of the stairs was large and strangely empty. It had to be the cleanest basement she’d ever seen. There was a peculiar scent in the air, something strong and powerful, and Taryn couldn’t put her finger on it. It made her eyes water a little and the further into the room she got, the more pungent the odor became. Still, it was clear Delphina wasn’t in this room.

Noticing two closed doors off the main room, Taryn walked over to the first and opened it. This room was packed with gardening supplies: top soil, gloves that still had price tags dangling from them, spades, pruners, and rakes. Everything was neatly stacked on a large wooden table up against the wall or hanging from pegs. The floor looked neatly swept and recently cleaned. When she saw the carton of bleach on the table she realized that’s what she was smelling, what was making her eyes burn. “Dang, she even bleaches her basement floor,” she muttered aloud. “I had no idea she was such a germaphobe.”

She quietly shut the door behind her and moved to the next. It took a few tugs to yank it open and when she did she was met with almost total darkness. This room lacked a window so she had to wait for her eyes to get adjusted. When they did, they settled on the large wooden table pushed into the corner.

“Jesus Christ!” Taryn screamed. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart thudded against her chest, and she grabbed onto the door handle to steady herself, sure she’d faint dead away. As she lurched, footsteps resonated behind her and a frail, old voice cried, “Oh dear.”

F
or what seemed like an eternity, Delphina and Taryn stood looking at each other, neither making a move. Delphina held a large shovel in her hand. It was raised high above her but the arm holding it was trembling. Still, if she brought it down hard enough it could do some real damage and Taryn wasn’t taking any chances. She wanted to rush back upstairs and forget the two bodies stuffed under the table in the little dark room, but there was no going back from that.

“Delphina,” she uttered with dismay. “What happened? What have you
done
?”

Jamie’s light blond hair was well-lit now that the soft light from the main room had trickled in and settled on his head. His face was pale and his body was scrunched up at an awkward angle but she made no mistake– it was him. His eyes were closed, thankfully, and except for a band of dried blood streaking his face he looked like he could’ve been sleeping.

The other body was little more than a rumble of clothes. Only a skeletal hand reached out and grazed the floor. She couldn’t see a face. She was thankful for small favors.

Delphina raised the shovel a little higher and Taryn sized up her opportunity. She could definitely outrun her, but she might still get in a good swipe as she passed her on the way to the stairs. Taking her chances, she leapt into action and sprung past the old woman, moving with speed she hadn’t felt in years. The shovel clamored to the floor with a loud “bang” and when Taryn reached the bottom stair she turned around and looked behind her. Delphina was crumpled on the floor, her head in her hands.

“Well, shit,” Taryn muttered. She stopped moving and stared at her hostess. “Did you kill him? What have you done?” She was in shock now, feeling nothing but fear. But the sight of his face was still etched in her mind and she could feel the tears streaming down her face.

“I didn’t mean to,” Delphina sobbed, her voice muffled by her hands. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” She rocked back and forth, her gray hair a blur in the shadowy light.

“What did you
do
?” Taryn wasn’t about to go any closer, even now that Delphina was defenseless on the floor, but her desire to sprint was gone, too. She felt defeated. Oh, Jamie. And he’d been so beautiful, so
nice
.