Griffith Tavern (Taryn's Camera Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

having enough character or personality, for being too photographic–for not truly being “art,” whatever that meant. In this job, however, it was expected and the very thing her clients appreciated about her work. She could get more creative and did sometimes on her own, but those paintings felt personal, private. She’d never let anyone actually look at them.
    The longer she drew, the more inside her head she dove. She kept thinking about Daniel and his friends, her experiences at college and in high school. What started out as a small tinge of jealousy soon turned to the whispers of irritation and resentment. Why hadn’t she made friends? Why hadn’t she been able to find a close-knit group of people she could belong to? She didn’t understand why she’d always felt so much like an outcast. 
    Driving her annoyance into her hands, she worked feverishly, shading and capturing the curve of the columns, the ancient brick, the stone steps.
    She would be just fine on her own, she told herself. Just fine.
    A ray of sunlight peeked through the clouds and hit a shard of glass still holding on in one of the upstairs windows. With the flash, the house seemed to wink at her, as if in agreement.
     

     
    T he rain was heavy and cold; the lightning fierce and strong. With each flash it lit up the yard with a brilliant flare, illuminating the stables and gardens. The roar of thunder that followed was quick and bold; the storm was above them now and in its full glory.
    She’d come outside barefoot and the mud rose up between her toes and caught on the hem of her woolen dress. She was freezing, and it wasn’t just from the rain and night air. She moved with determination, not giving in to the fear wanting to consume her. The tavern rose before her like a beacon, dark and foreboding. She walked towards it, keeping her eyes on the faint glow of light stemming from the upstairs window–her bedroom. When the sky was darkened, it was the only thing she could see.
    Her breathing was heavy and labored, almost ragged. Her head pounded with a pain she’d never known before and she was nearly blinded by it. Only a few more steps and she’d be there, safe. Safe from what, she wasn’t sure. She just knew she had to hurry.
    When she reached the front porch she stopped, shook the rain from her tangled hair, and looked down at herself as the lightning filled the sky again. From her dress ran rivers of dark water–not rain, but blood. It soaked into the ground and disappeared into the night. But her hands, oh her hands, they were covered. With the final burst of thunder, so loud the very ground shook in its quake, she screamed.
     
     
    Taryn woke up; her covers pushed to the floor and her head pounding. She was drenched in cold sweat, her face and arms clammy with it. The television was still on, Tony Danza and Judith Light were bickering in the on-screen kitchen. Reaching for the remote, Taryn turned up the volume. She wouldn’t be sleeping for the rest of the night.

Chapter 4

    T he next several days passed without incident. Over the summer her doctor prescribed her some Ambien to help with her sleep issues but she wasn’t taking it regularly. Now, Taryn knew she might want to start. She’d always had trouble sleeping, and her nightmares felt worse than those she imagined most people had, but dreaming about the tavern had felt different. She had seen the rain, felt the wet grass under her feet, and even experienced the panic and confusion the woman in the dream was feeling. She couldn’t think of that person as herself. They hadn’t moved like her or thought like her–for Taryn, it was like watching a movie unfold through someone else’s eyes.
    Her two hospitalizations in Vidalia happened months ago but sometimes she still felt like she was recovering. Being poisoned and knocked out, on two separate occasions, could do that to a person she reckoned. She wasn’t feeling herself, though. She was still getting headaches almost