Dark Hollow Road (Taryn's Camera Book 3) by Rebecca Patrick-Howard
Authors: Rebecca Patrick-Howard
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house is perfect and you’re the unkempt one.
“You’re too sweet. Would you like something to drink, dear?” Thelma asked. “I’ve got sweet tea, Coke, Diet Coke, and hot chocolate.”
“I’d like a Coke, please, if it’s not too much trouble,” Taryn replied, thinking a boost of caffeine couldn’t hurt.
Thelma excused herself to the kitchen and was back a moment later, the Coke poured into a tall glass with imprints of roses on it. Ice cubes bobbed at the top, their clinking noise cheerful in the otherwise quiet room.
Now that visitor protocol had been reached and carried forth, it was time to get down to business.
“First, I wanted to say how much I am enjoying teaching the class,” Taryn began sincerely. And she truly was enjoying herself. “I don’t know how good of a teacher I am, but I’m having fun and nobody’s dropped out.”
“Oh, lots of little birdies have told me you’re a wonderful teacher,” Thelma assured her, her eyes dancing. “Some are even asking if you’ll come back a second term.”
Taryn felt her back stiffen in pride. Perhaps she didn’t stink as badly as she thought she did.
“There is something else, though, and I don’t quite know how to say it…” Now that she was there, in Thelma’s living room, she felt awkward. How did one go about bringing up the other person’s private life in such a direct way?
“Well, I imagine the best way to say it is the most honest. What’s on your mind?”
“I know about your daughter, about Cheyenne,” Taryn disclosed softly, looking down at her feet. Her boots were heavy and dark against the light beige carpet and now she belatedly wondered if she shouldn’t have taken them off at the door. Some people were funny about their carpets and shoes.
“Oh,” Thelma sighed.
Taryn could feel a shift in the room, a heaviness. The sweet aroma of the lavender candle next to her was starting to make her a little sick to her stomach and the Coke was thick on her throat. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to pay Thelma the visit. “You see, I… well, I felt something on one of my first nights. And then someone told me about her disappearance. I did some research of my own,” she finished lamely.
Thelma’s ears had perked up now, and she was studying Taryn intently, gazing at her with rapture. ‘What did you feel?”
“I can’t really describe it, I’m afraid. But I heard what I thought was a cry. And then I had a bad dream. Well, when you look at everything individually it’s not much but when you put it all together, it usually means something. I think Cheyenne might be trying to communicate with me.” Taryn held her breath, cringing at her choice of words. The fact was, there was no way to talk about this without letting Thelma know she thought Cheyenne must be dead.
But Thelma only nodded. “In the beginning I felt things as well. I’d hear a voice, a singing even. The air currents around me would shift. Sometimes, I’d catch things out of the corner of my eye, but I could never get a full picture. I talked to my preacher about it. He said it might be part of my grief, my depression.” Thelma’s eyes filled with water and she hastily dabbed at them with the edge of her sweater sleeve. “I know she’s dead. I know it. A mother would know these things, right?”
“Maybe she’s not,” Taryn proclaimed, but to her own ears it didn’t sound particularly convincing.
“We know she’s dead,” Thelma stated again, this time with more firmness. The glass in her hand shook a little, sending drops of cola over the side, but she steadied and forced herself to be steady. “Cheyenne was a difficult child, the kind of teenager you wanted to pull your hair out over, but she was thoughtful. She would never do this to me.”
Taryn made a mental note that she hadn’t mentioned Cheyenne’s father, but decided to let it pass for now.
“You would know your daughter best of all,” Taryn reassured her with care,
“You’re too sweet. Would you like something to drink, dear?” Thelma asked. “I’ve got sweet tea, Coke, Diet Coke, and hot chocolate.”
“I’d like a Coke, please, if it’s not too much trouble,” Taryn replied, thinking a boost of caffeine couldn’t hurt.
Thelma excused herself to the kitchen and was back a moment later, the Coke poured into a tall glass with imprints of roses on it. Ice cubes bobbed at the top, their clinking noise cheerful in the otherwise quiet room.
Now that visitor protocol had been reached and carried forth, it was time to get down to business.
“First, I wanted to say how much I am enjoying teaching the class,” Taryn began sincerely. And she truly was enjoying herself. “I don’t know how good of a teacher I am, but I’m having fun and nobody’s dropped out.”
“Oh, lots of little birdies have told me you’re a wonderful teacher,” Thelma assured her, her eyes dancing. “Some are even asking if you’ll come back a second term.”
Taryn felt her back stiffen in pride. Perhaps she didn’t stink as badly as she thought she did.
“There is something else, though, and I don’t quite know how to say it…” Now that she was there, in Thelma’s living room, she felt awkward. How did one go about bringing up the other person’s private life in such a direct way?
“Well, I imagine the best way to say it is the most honest. What’s on your mind?”
“I know about your daughter, about Cheyenne,” Taryn disclosed softly, looking down at her feet. Her boots were heavy and dark against the light beige carpet and now she belatedly wondered if she shouldn’t have taken them off at the door. Some people were funny about their carpets and shoes.
“Oh,” Thelma sighed.
Taryn could feel a shift in the room, a heaviness. The sweet aroma of the lavender candle next to her was starting to make her a little sick to her stomach and the Coke was thick on her throat. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to pay Thelma the visit. “You see, I… well, I felt something on one of my first nights. And then someone told me about her disappearance. I did some research of my own,” she finished lamely.
Thelma’s ears had perked up now, and she was studying Taryn intently, gazing at her with rapture. ‘What did you feel?”
“I can’t really describe it, I’m afraid. But I heard what I thought was a cry. And then I had a bad dream. Well, when you look at everything individually it’s not much but when you put it all together, it usually means something. I think Cheyenne might be trying to communicate with me.” Taryn held her breath, cringing at her choice of words. The fact was, there was no way to talk about this without letting Thelma know she thought Cheyenne must be dead.
But Thelma only nodded. “In the beginning I felt things as well. I’d hear a voice, a singing even. The air currents around me would shift. Sometimes, I’d catch things out of the corner of my eye, but I could never get a full picture. I talked to my preacher about it. He said it might be part of my grief, my depression.” Thelma’s eyes filled with water and she hastily dabbed at them with the edge of her sweater sleeve. “I know she’s dead. I know it. A mother would know these things, right?”
“Maybe she’s not,” Taryn proclaimed, but to her own ears it didn’t sound particularly convincing.
“We know she’s dead,” Thelma stated again, this time with more firmness. The glass in her hand shook a little, sending drops of cola over the side, but she steadied and forced herself to be steady. “Cheyenne was a difficult child, the kind of teenager you wanted to pull your hair out over, but she was thoughtful. She would never do this to me.”
Taryn made a mental note that she hadn’t mentioned Cheyenne’s father, but decided to let it pass for now.
“You would know your daughter best of all,” Taryn reassured her with care,
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