The Blossoming: The Third book in The Green Man Series

by Sharon Brubaker

  “Maureen, you scared me!” Sylvia cried. “I couldn’t hear you over that, that idiot who just roared out of here!” she sputtered before asking, “Can’t Skip do something about those morons?” Sylvia asked.

  Skip was Maureen’s husband. They had a May - December marriage much to the consternation of some of the neighbors. Sylvia thought their marriage worked well. Skip adored Maureen. It was obvious that Maureen loved Skip. Sylvia always thought privately, that Maureen was extraordinarily beautiful. Sylvia thought she looked like a mermaid or perhaps like one of the carved figures on the bow of a ship. She wasn’t at all surprised to see Maureen. Usually, she walked early in the morning when Sylvia walked Percy. It was through these early morning walks that the women had become friends.

  Maureen narrowed her eyes and looked at the boat, now away from the head of the bay and into the open water due to its speed. She looked as if she was memorizing which boat was racing quickly and noisily away.

  “Sorry to have scared you,” Maureen answered and sat down next to Sylvia where the Green Man had just been. Percy walked over to her and put his head in her lap. She petted him.

  “Oh, Percy,” Maureen crooned, “I miss your pouf.”

  “With the heat, I had to get him clipped for the summer,” Sylvia explained. “I think he looks like a lamb now.”

  “You’re still a very handsome boy, Percy,” Maureen told him, “even with your summer crew cut.” She was rewarded with a lick to her hand and he gave a happy doggy moan when she rubbed his ears.

  “Regarding the boat, I will speak to Skip again,” Maureen told her, “We’ve been having some issues with some of the idiots,” she said and she shook her head, “and I think I recognize that particular idiot that just roared out of here. I’ll mention it to Skip.”

  Sylvia looked at her quizzically.

  “Another time,” she answered Sylvia’s look. “How are you?” Maureen asked. “How are the wedding plans?”

  Sylvia rolled her eyes. “Oh. My. God.” Sylvia stated crisply, “Maureen, you have no idea! The moms have taken over with an overwhelming number of ideas. Personally, I want a wedding, but I don’t want it to be crazy,” she told Maureen. “I think I want it outside, so the question is, do we rush it for this year or wait another year? I don’t think Owen and I want to hold on a year, but I don’t believe that we can plan a wedding quickly. Lord, it took over every waking, breathing minute this last year for my friend Gwen who just got married.”

  “Why don’t you have your wedding here at the marina?” Maureen suggested, “Maybe in the fall. September is always lovely and October is beautiful too.”

  “Hmm,” Sylvia considered, “September would be nice and then we could sail in warmer weather. Do you think we could plan it in that amount of time?” she asked Maureen.

  Maureen had shrugged before she answered, “What’s a wedding? It’s a big party. We can plan a party in a heartbeat. You didn’t want a big wedding, did you?” She asked.

  “No,” Sylvia answered, “probably under fifty people.”

  “Well,” Maureen replied, “Labor Day weekend would be a bit tight, but any other weekend after that would be okay. There’s plenty of space here in the auxiliary parking,” and she waved her hand at the small field where they were sitting, “we can set up an area so the wedding would overlook the bay. It would be lovely.”

  “Would that be all right with Skip?” Sylvia asked.

  “I think it would be all right,” Maureen told her. “I’ll ask him right now.” She stood up to go. “Call me later and let me know what Owen thinks of the idea. Okay?”

  Sylvia felt both panic and relief. “Okay,” she told her. “I’ll let you know.”

  Sylvia led Percy home and tiptoed upstairs where Owen was still sleeping stretched across the bed, his hand resting on the warm spot where she had previously been sleeping.

  “Time to get up, sleepyhead,” she whispered in Owen’s ear as she leaned over to kiss his cheek, “time to get our beautiful weekend started.”

  Owen gave a noise between a purr and a growl, “I thought we already started our weekend last night,” he said huskily, pulling her down beside him and pinning her by throwing a leg over her.

  Sylvia sighed happily. Bliss.

  Chapter 2

  In summer, the song sings itself. ~William Carlos Williams

  Their slow start to the weekend sped into a frenetic afternoon when they called their respective parents and some of their closest friends, to break the news that they wanted to wed in three months, outdoors, at the marina, instead of waiting for a year. Surprise, shock, and anxiety filled their voices. Gwen teased, Carol asked bluntly, and Sylvia’s mother hinted by asking if Sylvia was pregnant, and that was the reason they were rushing the wedding. In each case, they answered “no,” and continued that they did not want to wait a year. It was decided to table the discussion until they had permission from Skip to actually hold the ceremony at the marina.

  Sylvia contacted Maureen, who in turn, invited them for a glass of wine in the late afternoon. So, as evening fell, Sylvia and Owen walked back to the marina with a bottle of chilled Prosecco in Owen’s hand and Sylvia carrying a small tray of hummus and crudités.

  Old George, the night watchman and general handyman around the marina, called out to them as they passed, “Where’s the big guy?”

  George adored Percy and always gave him a back rub whenever they ran into him while walking.

  “At home,” Owen replied, “Hopefully, he’s not having a wild party while the parents are gone.”

  Old George chuckled in response. He reminded Sylvia of a darker elfin version of Santa Claus. His enormous belly actually jiggled when he laughed. He was a widower and gave up his house to his children when his wife died of cancer a couple of years back. He lived on his boat year round. He could always be found prowling the boatyard. If there was any nonsense, his jolly nature changed swiftly to no nonsense, drill-sergeant type of guy who barked orders. Everyone respected and listened to George. He made friends with everyone at the marina. His laughter rang out at late night card games with the fishermen and bonfires on the small beach by the marina with the regulars and the day sailors. The marina was a community unto itself and George was an important cog in the wheel. They said their goodbyes to George and walked through the boatyard to Skip and Maureen’s house.

  Skip and Maureen had a lovely home at the very tip of a point in the bay with the marina tucked into a cove behind their home. Light gray stone, cedar shingles, and lots of windows gave the home a New England cottage feel. Inside the home, it was sleek and modern. A local architect and builder had a sophisticated, yet distinctive style that Sylvia loved. Maureen answered the door and directed them to the patio where they had a magnificent view of the bay.

  Skip stood up and gave Sylvia a kiss on the cheek and shook Owen’s hand.

  “Welcome,” he said and gestured for Owen and Sylvia to sit down.

  Maureen had disappeared into the house and quickly returned with champagne glasses and nibbles. Sylvia added her contribution to the table. The sparkling Prosecco captured the glint of the sun as Maureen raised a glass to Sylvia and Owen.

  “To romance, love, weddings and years of marital bliss,” she toasted.

  “Here! Here!” Skip agreed. He looked adoringly at his wife.

  Sylvia observed this tête-à-tête and wondered how she could ever have thought this man to be gruff and unapproachable, as she had for many years. As her friendship with Maureen grew, Sylvia realized that Skip’s gruffness was a façade.

  Skip turned to Sylvia and Owen. “I think it’s an excellent idea that you want to wed here. In fact,” he added, “we were wondering if we could use photos of your wedding to encourage others to do the same?” He looked hopefully at Sylvia and Owen.

  Sylvia was flabbergasted. She shrugged helplessly at Owen, who gaped at her. He shrugged in return.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  Maureen swiftly co
vered their confusion, “You don’t need to decide this minute,” she said. “Just think about it.”

  Both Sylvia and Owen relaxed visibly. Skip poured more wine and Maureen went to get another bottle. The Prosecco was a favorite of hers and she kept a stock chilled. A few glasses later, all had relaxed.

  Maureen snuggled up to Skip. “I think this might be the chance for me to get that gazebo I’ve been wanting,” she told her husband.

  “Hmm…” Skip replied, “Maybe.”

  “Or a pergola,” Sylvia suggested.

  “Oooh,” Maureen actually cooed. “That would be lovely. I can envision it draped in flowers and something white and flowing. “

  Skip rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, here we go,” he said.

  “Yes,” Maureen stated pointedly, “here we go. And, why don’t you and Owen go over to the restaurant and pick up us some sandwiches for dinner?”

  “Done,” Skip said. “C’mon, Owen. We’re on dinner duty.”

  Skip and Owen’s conversation on sailboats could be overheard as they stepped from the room. Maureen giggled.

  “Two peas in a pod,” Maureen commented.

  “Owen will bend his ear about boats,” Sylvia agreed.

  “So, we’ll get a chance to talk wedding stuff while they talk boats,” Maureen said. “We have a lot to plan, Sylvia.”

  Sylvia sighed. “Are we crazy to do this so quickly?”

  “I think it is entirely plausible and we’ll make it happen,” Maureen told her. “Don’t worry. It will all fall into place.”

  “You’ll need to remind me of that about a hundred times a day,” Sylvia said.

  Maureen poured her another glass of Prosecco. Maureen said, “Let’s talk gazebos, girlfriend.”

  The evening continued with wine flowing freely along with good conversation, their dinner, sunset, and lots of laughs. Sylvia clung to Owen’s arm as they wended their way down the quiet street heading home, to the sound of gentle waves crashing against the shoreline. She felt like a kite on the end of a string and she swayed away from Owen as they walked.

  “Honey, you’re like a balloon tonight. Come back here,” he tugged her gently back to his side.

  Sylvia giggled a silly giggle uncontrollably. Sylvia put her hand to her mouth, but the giggles still crept out.

  “I’ll walk Percy,” Owen told her, “after I tuck you into bed.”

  “Thanks,” she said and kissed him on the cheek. “Because, you know and I know that tomorrow’s going to be a big day. The wedding circus really begins.” Sylvia yawned. “I’m going out with Maureen and Carol to look at wedding stuff. Maybe we should elope?” she suggested, a little hopefully.

  “No,” Owen told her firmly. “I know we’re going to get married rather quickly compared to the more traditional couples, but I do not want to elope. I want to do this right,” he said.

  Owen pulled her closer to him and kissed her hair above her ear.

  Sylvia smiled. “Okay,” she acquiesced.

  The next morning, Sylvia was pacing from the kitchen to the living room, with coffee cup in hand, while Owen was stretched out on the couch, reading one of his scientific journals. Sylvia glanced at the clock and paced some more.

  “I wonder where Maureen is?” she questioned quietly. “It’s not like her to be late.”

  “Why don’t you call her,” Owen suggested.

  “You’re right,” Sylvia said and went to get her phone.

  But, a loud knock, knock, knock that rattled the windows in the kitchen door, startled both of them before Sylvia could reach her phone. Owen started from the couch. They saw Carol’s anxious face peering in through the window of the kitchen door. When Carol saw Sylvia entering the kitchen, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  “Syl?” Carol asked with a shrill, keen edge to her voice, “Are you all right?”

  Puzzled, Sylvia answered her, “Sure, I’m okay, why? And why are you here? I thought Maureen and I were going to pick you up? “

  Carol took a deep breath. “Joe dropped me off. Oh, Sylvia,” she said, shaking her head, “then,” Carol hesitated before stating a rhetorical question, “I guess you haven’t heard?”

  “Haven’t heard what?” Owen asked. He had pulled himself off the couch, following Sylvia into the kitchen.

  “Th-they found a body,” Carol announced, “at the marina.”

  “What?” Sylvia and Owen gasped simultaneously.

  Carol took another deep breath and said, “Joe got the call a little while ago. He dropped me off and he’s meeting the other detectives to investigate. I thought,” she stammered and stopped and looked uncomfortable.

  “You thought Sylvia found another body,” Owen finished the sentence for Carol.

  Looking guiltily at Sylvia, Carol nodded her head and lowered her eyes.

  “Not Maureen?” Sylvia gasped, her voice fearful.

  “No,” Carol answered, “I don’t think so. From what I gathered from Joe’s conversation, it was a man.”

  Sylvia took out her cell phone and punched in Maureen’s cell number with shaking fingers.

  Maureen answered after five rings, “Oh, Sylvia!” Her voice nearly a wail, “I’m so sorry! I…I forgot I…I…you won’t believe what…what…” she stopped talking and gave a little cry.

  “Maureen,” Sylvia lightly scolded, “do not apologize! Carol came by and said you had a body at the marina?” she asked, her voice quavering as she asked the question.

  Hiccups and the sound of tears had come through the line before Maureen said in a hoarse whisper, “George! Old George is dead.”

  Sylvia was speechless for a moment. She couldn’t help herself. She held the phone a few inches away from her and just stared at it.

  “I’ll be right there,” she told Maureen and hung up the phone. The color drained from her face when she turned to face Carol and Owen.

  “Old George,” she told them quietly.

  “What?” Owen had gasped before he asked, “George? Who would want to kill him?”

  “I don’t know, but I told her I would come down to the marina,” she said.

  “Do you think you should go?” Owen asked, “It’s going to be crazy with police.”

  “Joe’s there,” Carol said. “We’ll be able to get to Maureen.”

  “Thank, God you didn’t find the body, Sylvia,” Owen said sharply.

  Sylvia turned sharply to Owen before asking, “What did you say, Owen?”

  “Thank God it wasn’t you who found the body,” Owen told her with a bit of an edge to his voice.

  Sylvia had glared at him before she stated crisply, “You know, Owen,” she told him, “I love you, but you can really be a big jerk!” She ended emphatically. “C’mon, Carol,” Sylvia ordered before she strode out the door.

  Sylvia marched down the road with Carol trotting to keep up with her.

  “What an ass!” she muttered before turning to Carol. “How could he say such a thing?” she asked her.

  “Sylvia,” Carol admonished gently while trying to catch her breath. “He loves you! Give him a break!”

  “He doesn’t understand!” Sylvia cried.

  “Maybe, a little,” Carol said with her usual bluntness.

  Sylvia glared at her only slightly mollified. They were both puffing a little as they were walking so quickly. Bayside had a small, steep rise in the middle of the road that some residents referred to it as ‘Bayside’s peak.’ It was just steep enough for the residents to erringly call it a hill, but it also hid the myriad of emergency vehicles that were at the marina at the end of the road and neighborhood from Sylvia’s house.

  “Oh, no,” Sylvia breathed as they crested the rise, “Look at that!”

  “Joe’s there,” Carol told her. “He’s somewhere in that mess. Come on,” she urged Sylvia.

  They started to slow their pace when they reached the flashing lights of emergency and police vehicles on the road that entered the marina. A crowd surrounded the macadam in front of
the boat lift. A lone body was still swaying from the lift which now doubled as a gallows. George’s body swung heavily from the top of the boat lift. His head lolled sideways from the knot on the rope around his neck. His swarthy face was a dark red, his eyes bulged, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth, swollen, enormous, and turning blue-black. His large body, which was usually so vibrant, swayed heavy, limply and deathly still. It was a horrible sight. Sylvia felt as though she had been kicked in the stomach. Beside her, Carol gave a gasp.

  As they got closer, they saw a tall fishing boat carefully maneuvering among the boats in covered boat slips that bordered the boat lift on each side. The big fishing boat was moving through the water and myriad of boats like a car maneuvering through a crowded parking lot at the mall. Two burly policemen were standing on the fly bridge with tools that Sylvia assumed would cut down the body. Sylvia looked around for Maureen and spotted her red hair in the crowd. She was convulsing, either in tears or being sick. Sylvia rushed over to her and put her arms around her.

  “Oh, Sylvia,” Maureen cried jerkily as she clung to her friend. “Why? Why? Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Sylvia said soothingly. “I don’t know.” She stroked Maureen’s hair as if she was a small child. “Come on, Maureen. I’m going to take you home. There isn’t anything you can do.”

  Maureen let Sylvia lead her to her house. Sylvia gently pushed Maureen to sit on the couch and went in search of a blanket. The first thing she found was a small, lacy crocheted throw on an ottoman and tucked it around Maureen’s shoulders.

  “Here, you’ll need this,” Sylvia told her, remembering how cold she had felt when she had found Anna’s and Joyce’s bodies.

  Maureen pulled the throw tightly around her shoulders and looked up at Sylvia, her eyes large in her pale face and filled with unshed tears. “Why?” she stated again thickly.

  “I don’t know,” Sylvia said, “But, Joe is there and he’s the best detective,” she told her stoutly. “And Carol will let us know what’s going on as soon as she can.”

  “Carol?” Maureen asked, not remembering at first. The realization came into her eyes. “Oh, Sylvia! Your wedding shopping! I’m sorry!”