Chapter One

As per usual, he was late. This didn’t surprise or even annoy Tara.  Lateness was a pattern of her father, Ed O’Shea, for as long as she could remember.  He focused his archeologist’s brain on projects and all else went by the wayside. Ed traveled for work and when he was home his mind rarely joined him, preferring to focus on the job he’d just finished or would soon begin.  When her mother died five months earlier, he dove even deeper into his work.

 Shortly after her mother’s death, the family experienced yet another loss.  Her grandmother, Gertrude O’Shea, passed away at the ripe old age of ninety-two.  She left stocks, bonds, and other monetary valuables to Tara’s father and brother, but she surprised everyone when she left the estate and all its contents to her seventeen-year-old granddaughter.  It was accompanied by a letter expressing her desire that Tara do her best to maintain and keep the property in the family.  Gertrude even provided Tara with a trust fund to be used for the care and upkeep of the house as well as a modest living allowance that would support her for the rest of her life, providing she lived wisely.  Tara knew her grandmother led a comfortable life, but she never imagined the old woman as well off as she proved to be, especially considering the poor condition of the old estate house that she insisted on living in right up to the moment she left this world. 

Father and daughter moved into the run down ancestral home the day after Tara graduated from high school and just two months before her eighteenth birthday.  They left behind the conveniences of city life, as well as lifelong friends. Of course, it was of little consequence to Ed, but Tara immediately felt the void.  Even so, she’d made a solemn vow to carry out her grandmother’s wishes to live in and maintain the ancestral abode and she planned on doing just that.  With a little elbow grease and a lot of determination, she intended to bring things back to their original glory.

The sun glistened off the morning dew coating the roof top as she surveyed the repair work that was immediately done upon moving in. It looked almost too pristine in comparison to the weathered exterior crying out for paint, and the random spots where the wood along the awnings threatened to crumble to the touch.  There were several broken windows.   Those that weren’t, looked crammed into the wall at an angle, but the structure itself was still solid and sound.

Her chestnut mare’s shrill whinny caught her attention.  She whirled around just in time to move out of the way of the racing beauty. It brought to mind the need to put fence repairs at the top of her ever-growing maintenance list.    

Sugar pranced proudly around her. Having been moved from the confines of a rigidly run boarding stable to the free and easy-going environment of a country estate brought surprising vigor to Tara’s equine friend. Tara could never get enough of watching her mare’s powerful muscles flex beneath her flesh as they met the demands placed on them.  It was a sight to behold.

She reached up to pat Sugar’s muzzle as the mare gently shoved her owner off into the direction of the barn.  Sugar knew that, if she didn’t prompt Tara out of her daze, there would be no breakfast.  Tara’s mind had a way of wandering for periods of time, with little recall of what occurred during the time passed. The clever mare quickly discovered this and stayed persistent in her efforts to regain Tara’s attention; especially now that she couldn’t rely on stable help to step in when her mistress stepped out. 

Tara slapped her forehead as she remembered Sugar’s needs and shouted to her father that she’d be back as soon as she’d fed her mare.  Ed popped his head out of the window of the second story den and bellowed for her to take her time, since he’d switched his flight to one an hour later.  She shook her head, once again accepting his negligence in telling her this bit of information as part of his eccentric persona.  He may be scattered and absent minded in matters he found mundane, but he’d made an effort to come home for short visits more than she could remember while growing up. She was just happy to have him around in any way, shape or form.

The odor of fresh horse manure assaulted her nostrils as she entered the old barn.  The far corner was made to accommodate Sugar, but the major portion of the barn was still in dire need of cleaning and renovating. 

Tara squealed, jumped back, and shuddered as a mouse scurried across her feet. Sugar never flinched.  Instead, the steadfast mare impatiently nudged her feed bucket to bring Tara back to priorities such as breakfast.

Tara’s body trembled.  She had an unexplainable fear of mice and snakes and couldn’t control her reactions whenever she spotted one.   As her heart struggled to regain a steady beat, she scooped grain into Sugar’s feed bucket. A flash caught the corner of her eye and chills covered her body. This was no mouse or snake; of that she was certain.

She looked around to find nothing there.

“Again,” she moaned out loud. “I’m so tired of this, when will it end?”  

Tara saw flashes through the corner of her eye most of her life. Mice and snakes may unnerve her, but the flashes and chills were little more than an annoyance.  She returned to the task of feeding her mare and then raced back to the house.  Her father postponed the flight by only an hour.  They needed to get moving if he wanted to make the it to the airport on time.

****

A tall girl of Irish descent, Tara’s long, firelight curls hugged her face and fell well below her shoulders in wild abandonment.  Her finely muscled frame afforded her the strength to accomplish daunting tasks that most women would buckle under. Yet, for all her strength and power, she retained an air of femininity that brought boys flocking. Hers was the type of personality that people gravitated to. Those who didn’t were generally the controlling types who were frustrated by her ‘live and let live’ philosophy.

Mitchell Woodbourne was one of those control freaks.  She’d dated him for two years before he went off to college.  She discovered his true colors shortly after he started school, when her surprise visit found find him behind closed doors with a co-ed. Although her first inclination was to tear at the sneering girl’s smug face, she managed to retain her dignity and storm from room with only the slamming of the door expressing her feelings.  Mitch later tried to control the situation by demanding Tara realize an open relationship while in college would remove curiosity and he’d be more likely to be faithful when they married; which he was certain they’d inevitably do.  She rejected the idea and suggested he go bungee jumping without the bungee.

She thought they had something special and he’d wait for her to reach a suitable age to propose marriage. In a way, she supposed his ridiculous request for freedom dating -while expecting her to sit quietly at home and wait for him- was a clear indication of what marriage to him would be like. She missed his passionate kisses and snuggling into his thick, strong arms while watching an old movie, but she could never consent to his terms.

Her cell phone rang.  It was Mitch.

She entered the house in search of her father while she held her stomach with one hand and the phone to her ear with the other.  She found her conversations with Mitch more and more unsettling as time went by.  Although his calls were coming farther and farther apart, they were still coming.  She needed him to stop bothering her, yet she continued to answer the calls.  If she had a brain in her head, she’d ignore them.  

Taking a deep breath in resignation, her voice was flat as she said, “Hello Mitch.”

 “I see your cell phone works out there in no man’s land.  What other modern amenities might I find?  A sink?  A toilet?  Running water?”  Mitch said in a tone that was undeniably sarcastic.

Born and raised in a big city, he couldn’t understand Tara’s reasoning for living in the old, rundown estate instead of selling it and investing the money into a quality life in the hub of the city.

 “Okay,” she sighed, “You got your dig in for the day.  What’s up?” she continued.

 “I was thinking about the great time we had last year in the mountains. Do you remember?” he asked in a lusty murmur.

Her body reacted to his sultry coaxing while her mind scolded that she should have known better than to answer his call.  His obsession with getting her back was merely because she’d ended the relationship. Of course, she remembered. She often thought back on her times with Mitch, especially now that she lived in such isolation. It was time to move on and make new memories. 

Did this conversation have a point?

She was just about to ask when he broke the silence, “Hello?  Tara? Are you there?”

 “What’s your point?” she asked in a tone that was colder than she intended. 

 “Chill,” he said defensively. “I just thought it might be nice to take another trip back there.  Just you and me, like old days.  Dennis can come, if you insist.”

She stood at the foot of the stairs and craned her neck for signs of her father’s progression toward leaving. An involuntarily shiver consumed one side of her body as an ice-cold breeze swept past.  She glanced around in time to catch the curtains flowing in the living room, even though the windows and doors were tightly closed.  She found it odd how her right side was chilled while her left side felt warm and relaxed and made a mental note to check the windows for proper insulation before winter set in.

“I’m able to enjoy the beautiful country side right here,” she replied with strained civility, “but you go ahead. It will do you good.”

 Her side was getting colder to the point of almost hurting. Where was that cold coming from?

“Well,” Mitch gave an agitated sigh, “I’ll be the judge of how beautiful your countryside is soon enough. Even though you haven’t paid me the courtesy of an invitation, Dennis invited me for the weekend. We can continue this conversation when I get there.”

It felt like her stomach twisted on its side as Mitch’s words assaulted her ears.  He sounded like a cat baiting his mouse.  She should have known better than to encourage a friendship between her brother and Mitch.  She couldn’t expect Dennis to stop the friendship just because she broke up with him. It was true the estate belonged to her, but she’d never even think of lording that over him in any way. She’d invited Dennis to move in with her and their father, but he’d opted to remain in the city to be close to his job but visited on weekends to check in on them and help with any repairs he could.

Even though she encouraged and expected Dennis to treat the estate like it was his own, she and her older brother were going to have to have a serious talk. Boundaries needed to be set.

“Where are you staying?” she blurted.

 “With eight bedrooms at your disposal, you’d make me stay in a motel out there in Deliverance?” he asked.

There was a chuckle in the undertone of his voice.  He knew he’d won and savored every minute of her irritation.

The cold reached the point of unbearable.  She wheeled around for a sweeping view of her surroundings.  It was summer, yet this felt like winter. 

As her dark green eyes landed on the source of the draft, she stood motionless.  Her lids didn’t even flutter as she stared into the pale green eyes of an older man dressed in an outdated flannel shirt and wool pants. He was scowling, yet she didn’t feel frightened. Maybe it was because she was just that annoyed with him, but she sensed the scowl was meant for Mitch.

When she finally managed a blink, the old man disappeared.  As did the cold. 

“I have to go. Stay wherever,” she snipped as she jammed her cell phone into her back pocket.

What just happened?  Who was that man and where did he come from? Better yet, where did he go? Her mind raced.

“Dad, are you ready?” she called a little shakily. “The plane won’t wait!”

Her legs were wobbly as she frantically checked the windows and locks while continuing to call out reasons for her father to hurry.  She opened closet doors and pounded on their walls, listening for a hollow sound.  Sometimes these old houses had hidden rooms. Maybe this man lived in one.

 When she and her father were finally on the road heading to the airport, she almost said something to him about the old man, but decided against it.  She saw no benefit in worrying him when he’d be half way around the world and unable to do anything to help her.

The remainder of her day was spent searching for the intruder.  He probably left while she was away, but, just to be safe and to make sure he wasn’t an unwelcome squatter, she searched the house and out buildings thoroughly. 

It was dusk before her search was interrupted by Dennis’ Cherokee bouncing down the long, sparsely graveled drive with Mitch loudly cursing his indignation through the open window. 

Sugar raced to greet them. The setting sun bounced shadows off the mare’s powerful muscles as she worked them proudly.  She was a sight to behold. Dennis smiled affectionately.  He enjoyed the beauty of this magnificent beast.  Leaping from the jeep as soon as he’d reached the parking area, he stroked her neck while she pushed him off balance with her nose. Laughingly, he put a little more swing behind his stokes, as if understanding her commands completely. He often joked that she was half human.

Mitch got out of the vehicle cautiously.  He wasn’t fond of animals, particularly ones that were larger than he was. Whoever heard of a horse that wandered free like a dog?  This was one of the little quirks about Tara that drove Mitch crazy.  She insisted on treating her animals like they were people.  He was about to make a sarcastic remark about just that when he saw her stepping off the front porch.

“Dennis!”  She called as she waved enthusiastically.

Mitch scowled as he watched her approach.  When he was away from Tara, he held nothing but sweet thoughts for her, but, when he was in her presence, he couldn’t hold down his hostility over her rejection.  It was a vicious cycle.

Dennis looked at Mitch’s scowl and said in a friendly, but authoritative manner, “Let’s try our best to get along this weekend.”

Tara let out a long groan as she reached them and joined her brother in stroking Sugar’s neck.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry! I can’t believe this!”  she lamented.

“What?” Dennis asked smugly.

“I got involved with something this morning and I don’t know where the time went.  I never made it to town like I’d planned. I have zip for dinner.  How could I be so stupid?” She tapped her head with the palm of her hand and added, “I’m sorry.” 

Accustomed to his sister’s tendency for being preoccupied with projects, Dennis came prepared.  He winked at Mitch as he reached into the back seat of the Cherokee and produced Chinese takeout.  Holding it high, he smiled with pride.  At that moment, Sugar whinnied to remind them she came first.  A very grateful Tara suggested her brother and ex-boyfriend to go to the house while she followed Sugar to the barn, assuring them she wouldn’t be long. 

As the men entered the old estate house, a bitter cold swept over Mitch that permeated his bones.

“Did you feel that?” Mitch asked.

“Feel what?” Dennis replied.

“That...cold,” Mitch said.

“It’s practically ninety degrees, man,” Dennis said.  “Are you sick?”

“I never felt better,” Mitch mused as he checked the grand foyer for the source of the draft. 

He found nothing. 

****

Mitch worked the stiffness out of his body.  That cold had plagued him all through the night. The summer coverings on his bed did nothing to keep it from disrupting his sleep. He spent most of the night longing for a thick quilt or down comforter. Scowling, he joined Tara and Dennis who were already enjoying breakfast.

The sun shining through the French doors of the breakfast nook brought out the charm of the old estate home.  Tara was restoring the house to its original look.  She discovered a method of repairing and cleaning the wallpaper from a “how to” show on public access television and beamed proudly at her handiwork as Mitch surveyed the surroundings. Knowing he wasn’t a fan of old, she doubted he’d appreciate her efforts or see the value in the restored rooms, but she let her pride flow anyway. 

“There’s coffee,” Tara announced brightly, “and some croissants with butter and jam.  If you want anything else, help yourself.”  

She watched Mitch strut toward the kitchen. His thick muscles strained against his shirt.  Although they hinted of an attempt to bring order to them, his unruly curls could stand a good combing.  His pants were crisply creased, and his Armani shirt gleamed of newness.  He was a stark contrast to the old house with its faded wallpaper and worn wooden floors.

When Mitch returned, he was washing the last of his croissant down with the remains in his coffee mug.

“I’m taking a quick walk outside,” Mitch announced. “Does anybody want to join me?”

Brother and sister replied simultaneously with, “I will.”

 The two winked at each other, gave a quick chuckle, and followed Mitch outside. 

Tara walked contentedly behind the two young men while observing the differences between them. Her brother and Mitch were both four years her senior, but that’s where the similarity ended. Mitch had dark hair and a large frame with a thick barrel chest and brawny arms.  Dennis shared the O’Shea green eyes and reddish blond hair.  He was a few inches taller than Mitch with a lean, well defined and developed muscular frame.

The trio decided to investigate the old logging trail up the west side of the wooded hillside.  Tara grew up curious to explore it, but her grandmother held firm with her warnings about the perils that awaited anyone who ventured up that path. Although she felt her grandmother a little dramatic, she was still wary about venturing it alone. If there was really peril from an abundance of lifeless trees and sliding boulders, it was irresponsible not to travel in company in case of an injury.  So, she’d waited for companions before entering the forbidden territory.    

The morning sun barely penetrated the canopy of the trees that coupled overhead along the path.  Nature’s debris covered the ground that was slick from the morning dew. The smell of earthy decay rose up as Tara’s feet sunk into soft layers of rich compost created from fallen leaves and branches. Deer droppings lined the path, giving evidence of their morning and evening march to graze in the field near the woods.

Loud crunching sounded behind her and she smiled at the sight of her mare casually following them. The animal was such good company in the isolation of her new home that Tara sometimes had to remind herself that Sugar wasn’t human. 

Noticing Sugar was fully tacked, she scowled. She’d saddled her mare for an early morning ride just as Dennis called out for breakfast. She’d fully intended to return for that ride, so she didn’t remove the tack. Mitch’s offer to walk pushed that ride right out of her mind. Her scattered thinking had increased since she moved to the country and she feared her father’s inability to focus was hereditary. She promised herself she’d make sure to remove the tack as soon as their walk ended.

As they approached a small clearing, Dennis pointed out a wooden structure resembling a tiny house. As they got closer, they recognized it as an old well house.  Excited and filled with anticipation, she skipped ahead with Sugar close at her heels.

The amount of visible decay to the structure and the plant life that almost consumed it, warned Dennis that the abandoned well might not be safe. 

“Be careful!” he called out. “You don’t know how sound that thing is and there’s no telling what you’re stepping on.”  

Before Dennis finished his warning, a loud crack echoed off the hillside.  The ground opened up and scooped Tara into its folds.  The only sign of her having been there was the small patch of torn shirt that caught on the wood as she fell through.  Sugar reared, squealed, and backed safely away.

Dennis raced toward the gaping hole that swallowed his sister while Mitch froze in his tracks. 

Dennis plunged forward on his belly to the edge of the opening.

“Tara! I can’t see her!  I can’t see her!” he shouted as he turned frantically to Mitch. “Run and call for help! Call 911!  Call 911!”  

Sugar would have been hard pressed to keep up with Mitch as he pushed his sculpted body into action while Dennis flattened his body on the ground and stuck his head as far into the darkness as he could.  

Tara heard the commotion above her, but couldn’t move or call out. She felt light, as if floating.  She observed Mitch intently as he sprang into action. Memories of their time together flashed before her.  She remembered how shy she was when they met, and he asked her to the movies for their first date. She remembered how timid and wonderful their first kiss was and how passionate they became as time went on.  She remembered how she thought she loved him and no other man could ever measure up to him.  Sadness swept over her. She missed him.  She longed for his familiar touch and passionate kisses. Then came the memory of walking into his dorm room to find him making love to a co-ed.  Her longing for him disappeared as quickly as it came, and she once again remembered why they were no longer a couple.

 The next thing she knew, she was standing next to Sugar and her attention was directed toward her brother. Dennis struggled to see her within the bowels of the abandoned well.  She reached for him and was shocked when her hand passed right through his back.

“You’re out of your body. You must return now,” said a voice in her head that wasn’t her own. 

Tara gasped.  Did Sugar just speak to her?

She eyed the mare and asked, “Did you say something?”  

Sugar blinked a few times and shook her head vigorously.

“If you do not return now you may never be able to.  You must go now,” she heard the strange voice in her head say in a commanding tone.  

Suddenly bright flecks the colors of the rainbow flew about.  It resembled driving through an intense snow storm, except the snow was colored.  Pain shot throughout Tara’s rib cage as she gasped for air.  A small cry escaped her lips.

 “Tara, are you okay?” Dennis called as he cautiously stretched his torso further over the edge of the hole. 

He hoped the well was shallow enough to reach down for her.  To his dismay, a loud crack shot out beneath him and he was forced to scoot back to safety.

At that point Sugar was behind Dennis, pushing his back with her nose and working her hoofs into the ground.  He looked over his shoulder at her and she threw her head toward the rope fastened on the side of the saddle.  He sat like a helpless child on the ground.  The stress of the situation made him unable to think clearly. Sugar whinnied and tossed her head more aggressively.

Dennis finally got the message and pulled himself together.  He stood up and reached for the rope.  Tying one end around his waist, he secured the other end to the saddle horn. The mare had no training for what he was about to ask of her and he prayed for help from above while he fought back panic and he buried his face in her strong neck. 

The mare impatiently worked the ground and tossed her head, as if to say, ‘get on with it’. Dennis took a deep breath and slowly felt his way down into the depths of the well.  The jagged edges made an easy grip for him as he inched his way deeper into the bowels of black.  

It was dark, foul smelling, and full of decay.

A soft warm breeze floated past him, carrying with it the sweet scent of honeysuckle.  The refreshing difference provided a boost of energy and optimism as he preceded downward, calling for Tara as he did.

“Help,” Tara moaned.

The pain in her chest prevented her from drawing enough air into her lungs to produce much more than a whisper.  She could only hope her brother could hear her. The rank smell made her stomach queasy. She moved her hand and it nudged the remains of an unfortunate raccoon. Shuddering with repulsion when she realized what she’d touched, she quickly pulled back her hand.

When Dennis finally reached her, he growled with disgust as he kicked the decaying animal remains aside and knelt down to inspect the damage. She looked frail and lifeless. 

He cradled her head and whispered gently, “I’m here.  I’ll get you out.”  

Dennis dug into the recesses of his mind for the method of tying the rescue noose he’d learned while in boy scouts.  Panic muddled his focus. He forced himself to calm down. When he finally managed, his hands moved as if they had a life of their own.

 He secured his sister with the rope -wincing with each cry that escaped her pale lips- and then commanded Sugar to back up. To his surprise, Sugar steadily worked the rope. He had little left to do except cradle her head and hold on tight as they were slowly pulled to the top.  If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought they were being rescued by several draft horses. 

The sound of his Cherokee barreling up the path was clear as Sugar continued to pull Dennis and Tara to safety. Leaves and mud flew as the vehicle slid to a quick stop.  Mitch hopped out and rushed to help with the final stages of the pull.  

As the two came into sight, Mitch reached forward and grasped Tara beneath the arms.  He lifted her like she weighed that of a tiny child, lowered her gently to the ground, and then turned to assist Dennis with equal ease. 

Beads of sweat coated Mitch’s face and neck. His breathing was labored.  He hadn’t stopped to think about what he’d done.  He’d just kicked his body into gear and did what he needed to do.  Now, as he rested for the first time since the nightmare began, his muscles complained about the strain he’d put on them.  He’d heard of situations where people developed super human strength and were able to lift things like cars in a crisis. He now knew the stories were true.  He fell back onto the soft moist ground, ignoring the tiny leaves and twigs that pierced his flesh through his designer clothes.

Dennis inspected Tara.  Her face was pale, and her lips were a faint purple-blue.

“Did you call for help?”  He barked to Mitch, a little more gruffly than intended. 

Mitch chose to let Dennis’ tone of voice slide.

“They should be here any minute,” he said through heavy breathing.  “Should we take her to the house? I don’t know. What do you do in a situation like this?  Should we move her or wait?’

“How hard was it to get the jeep up here?” Dennis asked as he looked anxiously at the mucky path.

“I slid a lot,” Mitch said.  He shook his head and added, “They’d be foolish to try getting an ambulance up that path.”

 Dennis shook his head.  He knew moving Tara, without an understanding of any injury she may have obtained during her fall, could worsen the situation, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“I don’t want to risk them getting stuck.  Help me get her into the back of the jeep. Lower the back seat, will you?”  Dennis asked; making a conscious effort to keep his voice less aggressive.

Mitch rose to his feet.  He no longer had speed or power in his movements. It felt like lead was pumping through his veins.  Each step forward was a struggle.  

Dennis pulled a blanket from the back of the Jeep and spread it onto the ground near Tara. 

“We can carry her in this,” Dennis suggested as he shook out the blanket and spread it next to her.  “Maybe it will help balance her weight and not jog her as much.  You take that side.”

They eased Tara onto the blanket and wrapped her tightly. Dennis grabbed Mitch by the wrist in a firm hold. His expression of gratitude and friendship when their eyes met caused a lump to form in Mitch’s throat.

Clearing his throat, Mitch said, “Come on buddy… on the count of three”.