Shaker Town (Taryn's Camera Book 4) (21 page)

“Do you like being around a bunch of people, then? You don't strike me as a particularly sociable person, no offense. When we were first introduced you were hiding yourself away, as I recall.”

“It varies,” Taryn admitted. “I like the idea of being around people but sometimes they make me nervous. I have never fit in. Not anywhere. The reason Matt and I became friends in the first place was because we were both kind of recluses, even as kids.”

“What about in college when you were studying? It seems like there you would've been among those with similar interests,” Susan pointed out.

“I tried. Same with photography and painting. I've joined groups, both online and off, and gone to workshops. Attended conventions. But I've never found one I felt comfortable with. I always end up hiding away in some corner of the room, standing back and watching everyone laughing, bonding, having a good time. It's like looking at a painting, something you can never truly be a part of. People don't notice me and I feel phony with the effort.”

“I also grew up this way,” Susan smiled. “And it's one of the main reasons I live alone now. The outside world just never felt ready for me. I always found more solace in the trees, by the river, in my garden, in my books...those were the places I was happiest. Those felt more real to me, and places where I could be myself, than in any group setting.”

“I know the Shakers had their problems, but they were a part of something bigger, always doing things together, always belonging.”

Susan raised an eyebrow. “And when they didn't belong? When things weren't always so rosy and chipper?”

“Then things were bad. Just like anywhere else,” Taryn said sadly.

“And that's where we get into our story of Morgan and Evelyn,” Susan inserted.

“Evelyn and Morgan?” Taryn asked in surprise. “But I thought the young man in the photograph wasn't Morgan.”

“Oh no,” Susan said, a secret smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “That's not Morgan; his name was Julius. You'll learn about his fate in a moment. But first, I have something for you.”

She excused herself from the room and passed Matt who squeezed past her carrying a tray of hot chocolate. “Everything okay?” he asked, setting the mugs and spoons down on the coffee table.

“Yeah, I think so. She has something to show us she says.”

Susan was only gone for a moment and then they heard her slowly shuffling her way back through the rooms, passing through the small dining area and kitchen to the living room. The house only had five rooms: bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, living room, and utility room. But it was all one person needed, Taryn reckoned.

When Susan returned she was carrying a large album. Taryn thought it was full of pictures at first but when Susan sat down beside her on the couch and placed the album between them Taryn could see that it was more of a scrapbook. She looked on in wonder as Susan pulled out letters, photos, and receipts.

“Where did you get all this?” Taryn asked, more than a little impressed.

“My great-great uncle passed them down through the family and now they're mine. At least until I'm dead. I give a little to Lucy now and then. She's one of the few who care about our past.”

A photograph caught her eye right away, the unmistakable form of Evelyn standing under a tree, mouth tense, hands firmly placed on the shoulders of the young boy in front of her.

“That's him,” Susan said, smacking her lips against the hot chocolate. A little drop fell and spread across her cotton dress. She dabbed at it daintily with a real cloth napkin and then went back to sipping. “That's my great-great aunt Evelyn with my great-great uncle Edward. Weren't they a fine-looking family?”

“
T
hese are the only two pictures I have of Evelyn as a young woman, this one here and the copy of the one from the store. Of course, photography was just getting off the ground back then and once she moved in with her relatives in town the opportunities were gone. She didn't have another one made until her children were out of diapers. This is the only one I have of Edward,” Susan explained.

“And Julius? Who was he?” Taryn asked, gently running her finger around the edges of the photograph. It was just a copy of the original but Taryn still treated it with reverence.

“Julius was born at Shaker Village and lived there his whole life,” Susan said. “He was an orphan they took in, I don't know where from, and when he was twenty-one years old he took the oath to become a Shaker. He worked on the farm, much like your friend Dustin does now. There isn't much known about him. He would've been a typical member of the order I suppose. He wasn't a deacon or elder or any of that nonsense,” Susan cackled. “Just a man.”

“How do you know so much about him if he didn't do anything extraordinary in his life?” Taryn asked, sensing more.

“Oh, I’ll get to that. In fact, I can show you.”

“And Morgan?”

“Morgan was a deacon. You can tell from his pictures that he wasn't happy-go-lucky. Just look at that sour face. He came to Kentucky from an order up in Massachusetts. Has the same name as the college.”

“Harvard?” Taryn asked cautiously.

“Yes, that's the one. Harvard. By accounts he'd joined up with his wife and six children. A year or so later she quit and took the kids with her, leaving him behind. I don't know what happened to her. It happens.”

“And he was killed,” Taryn prodded.

Susan nodded. “Yes, he was killed. Killed in the ice house, in fact.”

Taryn shuddered as that particular imagery snapped into place for her: the pale hand reaching out from the rubble of stones, the dirty fog, the cries of pain...Had he been reenacting his death and, if so, how often did that particular happy event replay?

“I thought maybe someone was stealing and he caught them. They maybe hit him in the head or something, like an accident, and left him there to die.”

Susan sat there for a second, eyes glued to Taryn, her own face passive. Then she erupted into peals of laughter so hard and so long that Taryn was afraid she'd get choked or dislodge a blood clot. By the time Susan was finished laughing, big booming noises that shook her entire body, tears were welling up in her eyes and she'd worked up a good coughing fit. “Oh, I'm sorry. So sorry. It's just that...well...I suppose you could say it was an accident. But it isn't often that an ice pick will fall out of someone's hand fifty-six times.”

Taryn was speechless. An ice pick? Oh, dear lord. Even Matt looked a little pale. That was just slightly too horror movie for him.

“Fifty-six times?” she finally gasped. “So he really was murdered. And, oh geeze, talk about overkill. Why?”

“This is where we need to look back to Mr. Julius here,” Susan rapped her fingers on his face.

“Julius killed Morgan?”

“You're not surprised?”

“Well, I mean, I don't know Julius, he's new to me, but it would've shocked me more to find out Evelyn killed him.

Susan snorted. “She should have. The monster.”

The next thing Susan handed Taryn was a piece of yellowed paper, folded over many times. “Here. Take a look at this.”

Taryn was afraid to open it; it was more than one hundred years old and she didn't want to be the one responsible for damaging it. But her curiosity was great and, after all, she'd come that far.

There was a single piece of paper, the handwriting old-fashioned, sloppy, and male. She struggled to make out some of the words but with Matt reading over her shoulder they were able to put it all together after a few tries. The words broke Taryn's heart.

Dear Julia,

Thank you oh so much for the lovely visit three weeks ago. It was wonderful to look away from the floor and see someone I know, and love, looking back. I know our singing and dancing continued on for many hours and I was exhausted myself by the time it came time to turn in. I can only imagine how uncomfortable it was to sit against the wall on those hard benches.

I only got the chance to speak to you for a brief moment, and was unable to get all of my words out (the walls have ears), but will try to do so now.

Although this is my home, I am no longer safe or welcome here. Edward and I both need shelter immediately and I am asking you for permission and acceptance into your home. I realize we would be quite the burden on you but I am adept in herbal lore and have tolerable sewing skills. I can also help you with your young ones and govern them until they are ready for school if you wish. Edward, though eleven this winter, is strong and a hard worker. He would be no trouble. Indeed, he would much rather have his nose in a book than anyplace else.

I spoke to Mother and Father but they do not want to leave. They have managed to find a measure of peace here and do not want to see it disrupted. They also assured me that neither Edward nor I am their responsibility or duty anymore, that our family is the order and no longer by blood. I shall miss them greatly and it still makes my heart ache to think of the years before joining the Believers, when Mother would sing lullabies to us and rock Edward on her knee. I was once allowed to call her “Mother” and she was everything a child could hope for. She is but a shadow of her former self, however, and I do not know this new person.

I have asked Julius to depart with us. You met Julius in town when he came with seeds and cuttings. He is what brought you to me. Julius is a fine man and honorable. Indeed, he protected me when a man who should have known much better made his intentions known to me and would not think of the repercussions. I adore Julius and could not love him more if he were my own husband. I shall ask again for him to accompany us, but my hope is not strong.

I look forward to receiving your response as quickly as possible.

Yours truly,

E

“You think Julius killed Morgan?” Taryn asked after they'd all had a chance to read, and reread, the letter.

Susan hesitated and then bowed her head. “I believe he did. The violence of the act, or overkill as you called it, was too much. It's obvious to me that there was a relationship between Evelyn and Julius and she admits to as much in the letter. It's also clear that Morgan attacked her.”

“I think he did it more than once,” Taryn agreed and then told her about the attacks she'd seen at the park, and the ones she'd felt herself.

“Morgan was a terrible man. There are other stories about him that say as much,” Susan sighed.

“But the Shakers were so peaceful.” Taryn was disappointed. She didn't like to think of a Shaker as an attacker, a rapist. That seemed to be more of a modern occurrence, something that happened in the “real world.” Not in the idyllic Shaker village.

“Strong religious settlements and belief groups draw a variety of people, for a whole mess of different reasons,” Susan interjected. “And there are many people who adore having that power, especially in a group like the Shakers where they had limited personal freedom.”

“And sometimes the members are mentally ill.” Susan and Taryn both turned and looked at Matt. He'd been quiet so far. “I'm not saying you have to be crazy to be involved in a religious group,” he laughed, holding his hands up in retreat. “I'm just saying that sometimes people are going through depression, have a lot of anxiety, or suffer from other forms of mental illness and religion gives them that outlet to make them feel safe and happier. It's almost as good as prescription medication.”

“You just know there had to be schizos there, too. All that waving around and jumping and talking to spirits,” Susan theorized. “Half of 'em probably were crazy.”

Throughout this discussion Taryn had not mentioned the baby, nor had Susan. Taryn wondered if she didn't know that part of it herself or was just too polite to mention it. If her vision and photograph had been right, Julius had delivered a stillborn to Evelyn. Whose baby was it?

“What happened to Julius?” Matt asked, breaking her thoughts. “Did he leave with her?”

Susan shook her head “no.” “I don't know,” Susan replied sadly. “He didn't go with her as far as I know. She didn't marry him, at any rate. He's not mentioned again in any of the family documents or stories. And I looked at the records at the park; he's not in anything after the year Evelyn left.”

“Maybe he died,” Taryn suggested.

“They would've recorded a death; they were good at keeping records,” Matt pointed out.

“Then we don't know what happened to him,” Taryn sighed. “Poor fellow.”

“It seems like Evelyn was the only one who really got out with a good deal,” Matt mused. “Except maybe for Edward.”

T
he drive back to Shaker Town wasn't long mileage wise but it was taking forever for Taryn, probably because she'd been out all day already.

“How you doing over there sweetie?” Matt asked, peering over at her. “You need anything?”

“I'm fine,” she answered, trying to put on a brave face. The fact was, riding in a car was becoming harder and harder on her. It was difficult on her lower body to be cramped without frequent stretching and the vibration of the vehicle upset her stomach and made it cramp. She'd already learned all the bathroom stops between the park and town.

Matt patted her on the knee and turned on the radio. He skipped over a song she knew he liked and, instead, searched for a country music station for her. When Dwight Yoakam's “Thousand Miles From Nowhere” filled the small vehicle Taryn leaned back and closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the familiar and comforting twang and melody.

“I have a question,” Matt said, turning Dwight down and annoying Taryn in the process. She didn't like for her music to be interrupted when it was a good song.

“Yeah?”

“How would Evelyn and Julius um, you know...”

“People will always find a way to be together if they want,” she answered, thinking of the dream she'd had of him down by the river.

“But what about meeting? How would they have gotten to know each other in the first place if they were so segregated?”

Taryn mulled this over in her mind. She finally came up with a scenario that made sense to her. “Well, all the brothers had a counterpart, a sister who washed his clothes, fixed them when they tore, kind of keep him in line and tell on him to a deacon or whatever if he acted up.”

“So you think Evelyn might have been Julius'?”

Taryn nodded.

Satisfied with that answer, Matt turned the radio back up again.

The next time Taryn opened her eyes it was pitch black outside and they were starting to travel downhill towards the palisades. “What happened?” Taryn asked groggily. She'd dozed a little and hadn't realized it.

“I must have missed our turn,” Matt apologized. “I was thinking about something. Now I'm just looking for a place to turn around.”

“There's an old abandoned house down there by the river,” Taryn said, straightening up in her seat. Dwight was long gone and now Emmylou Harris was singing about a Crescent City where everyone knew her name and was glad to see her. “You can still see the driveway. It's circular so no problem turning around.”

Matt strained his eyes in the dark, trying to peer through the windscreen into the dismal night. “It's
really
dark out here,” he complained.

“There, there it is!” Taryn pointed up ahead, off to the right. “Just turn in where you see that break in the trees.”

Matt slowed down to a crawl and inched forward, trying to see the narrow path that once passed for a driveway. “Huh,” he mumbled. “You sure this place is empty?”

“Yeah, why? It doesn't even have doors.” Taryn leaned forward in her seat and unfastened her seat belt. She tried to peer through the windshield but it was just too dark.

“There's a truck up there, see?” Matt pointed. “Kind of hidden in the trees. And I swear I just saw a flashlight.”

“It's 10:00 pm, Matt,” Taryn panicked. “Somebody's up to something. Just turn around and get out of here!”