Griffith Tavern (Taryn's Camera Book 2) by Rebecca Patrick-Howard Read Free Book Online Page B

Several rag rugs were scattered on the floor. It was her bedroom, but it wasn’t her time.
    Sinking into the closest chair she stared at the screen. “Oh shit,” she murmured, cradling her head in her hands. The coolness, her things moving on their own…it wasn’t a quirk of the house or her landlady. She’d been summoned, in a sense. “Here we go again.”

Chapter 5
     

     
    T he dress was heavy on her and the fabric coarse against her skin. It rustled stiffly when she walked and scratched at her calves as she climbed the staircase. Her feet were sore. She cursed the boots she wore, a size too big, and the way they rubbed blisters on her feet. Her stomach heaved with sharp pains.
    It would never be the same.
    From a string dangling around her neck she produced a key and bent forward, placing it in the lock in the door at the top of the stairs. The room inside was cold and dark.
    Using a match, she lit a lamp and watched as the room filled with a soft, warm glow. Outside, the wind howled and the tree branches lashed against the windows as though they were clawing madly to get in.
    Standing in front of her bureau now, she removed the pins from her hair. One by one she laid them in a little row. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders, thick and heavy as her dress. As the sounds of the wind and rain drummed through the house, she gazed at her reflection in the cracked mirror. Her hair was dull, her reflection pale. Her eyes had never looked duller. 
    “What have I done?” she murmured. A thin cry nearby shook her. She steadied herself on the bureau, ignoring the plea of the one who needed her. “What am I? What have I done?”
     
     
    Taryn could still feel the dream, still felt inside it, even though she was conscious of being awake. She purposefully kept as still as possible, trying to remember every little detail. It was fading away quickly, already feeling more like déjà vu. She’d known the cold, heard the wind, felt the weight of the dress on her body. Felt the pain in her groin, in her stomach. It reminded her of horrible menstrual cramps. For a moment she’d known the other woman’s unhappiness, her regret, and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. But the reflection in the mirror wasn’t Taryn at all.
    It was impossible not to feel a sense of intrusion, an invasion of her privacy. But she wasn’t scared, just curious. The house felt familiar, even though it wasn’t a place she’d ever been in before. It wasn’t the B&B, of that she was sure. Was it the tavern? Was the woman Permelia Burke? What could she want?
    Taryn didn’t have time to dwell on it because her alarm went off seconds later and she needed to get up and get moving if she was going to make it to breakfast.
    She slipped on a bathrobe and a pair of socks and didn’t bother running a brush through her hair or putting on any makeup as she headed down to the B&B’s dining room. As the only guest, she could afford to be lazy. There was a time when she would’ve applied her makeup evenly, curled her hair, matched her shoes with her outfit. It wouldn’t have mattered if there weren’t many people there to see her; it just would’ve made her feel good.
    Those days were gone.
    Now, she felt more comfortable with her hair loose, allowing it to fall where it would, or in a ponytail. She still wore skirts and dresses but they tended to be peasant ones that fell down around her ankles or prairie skirts with cowboy boots. Her cheap sandals from Target were getting so old they flapped when she walked but her toes had worn perfect grooves in them and she hated to see them go.
    Delphina had already set up the breakfast bar with donuts, eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, and cereal. Cursing herself for not bringing a purse or something to stash some extra donuts in for later, Taryn loaded up her plate and sat down at the table. It was slightly awkward to sit at a table meant for ten people when you were by yourself, but at least she didn’t have