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Taryn. “I’m Emma. I’m an Appalachian Studies major here. I just wanted to introduce myself and say how much I’m looking forward to this.”
    “It’s nice to meet you, Emma,” Taryn replied, a little thrilled someone was excited about actually coming to hear her talk. “Do you enjoy painting?”
    “I dabble in it a little. I’m not that good,” Emma laughed, “but it’s therapeutic. To be honest, I’m here because of your…” Emma let her sentence drop as her face flushed red and she looked down at her scuffed boots.
    “My what?”
    Emma shrugged, her thin shoulders small in the heavy jacket. “Because of what happened to you in Indiana. I saw it in a chatroom. I’m sorry, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but I think it’s amazing.”
    “Oh.” Feeling awkward now, Taryn perched on the edge of her desk. “Well, I don’t know what to say. I mean, I don’t know if I did that much. I was just kind of there, you know?”
    “With your camera,” Emma nodded. “It must be wonderful to see the past through it like that.”
    “Sometimes,” Taryn admitted sardonically. “But I don’t seem to have much control over it.” She thought about the night before–the smoke, the scream.
    “It’s not just because of the ghost stuff,” Emma continued in a hurry. “I also love old houses, exploring, and what you do is amazing. I mean, your actual work is amazing. So I couldn’t pass up this opportunity.”
    “Well, I’m glad to have you, whatever brought you here,” Taryn resounded warmly. She felt awkward, but Emma looked it, and she didn’t want her to be uncomfortable. “Can we kind of keep what happened between the two of us, though? For now?”
    “Yeah, yeah, no problem. I understand. See you Thursday!”
    Taryn was left alone in the quiet classroom, the circle of desks staring at her.
     

     
     
    M att prepared a “first day of school” feast for her back at the cabin. It consisted of her favorite foods: mashed potatoes, macaroni and tomato juice, salmon patties, and peanut butter pie. She was going to gain forty pounds if she continued to eat like that, though. She’d have to cut him off at some point.
    Sitting around the fireplace afterwards, her feet in his lap so he could thoroughly rubbed every inch of them, they talked about their days. Or rather he talked and she tried to respond, as waves of relaxation coursed through her feet and legs pulling the thoughts right out of her brain. “It’s a nice town,” he concluded. “Small, not a lot there other than the college and a few stores, but you can tell it used to be really something. I saw a couple of old homes you’re going to want to go back to and take pictures of. I made notes.”
    “I hope,” she gasped out the words as he ran his thumb down the middle of her sole, “you’re not going to be,” she reached again as he massaged the center carefully, “too bored hanging around here while I work,” she finally finished somewhat discomfited at his effect on her ability to talk coherently. “
    I’ll be fine,” he declared with a wave of his hand. “I do have to go back next week for two nights and when I do I’ll pick up some more books for myself. Get my marble slab.”
    “What’s that for? You planning on whacking somebody in the head?”
    He looked as her like she’d grown two heads. “To make candy,” he sputtered.
    “Oh, uh, yeah…”
    For nearly an hour they sat without talking, the radio set to an oldies channel, both reading their own books (his: The Forever War , hers: Flowers in the Attic ) and enjoying the warmth from the fire. It was cozy and intimate, and Taryn’s belly was still full from supper. She had no reason to feel insecure or unsettled. Yet, she did.
    “Something’s wrong,” she declared after a while, looking up from her book. It was the same statement she’d made on their first night but it hadn’t gone away. She’d read the same paragraph half a dozen times, not a