The Greening: a novel of romantic suspense...with a touch of magic (The Green Man Series Book 1)

by Sharon Brubaker

  Feeling much better after showering the dirt and grime from the gardening, Sylvia went into the study to get the phone and phonebook. The mask that had been so lush and green was now looking dry around the edges. Sylvia wondered if she should water it; spray it with water, or something. She didn’t know what to do. Remembering the basil in the sink, she gingerly picked up the mask and took it to the kitchen, soaked the basil under the faucet and splashed some water onto the mask and left it in the sink to drain.

  Sylvia returned to the den and got her things and went out onto the deck. The day had warmed up, but it wasn’t sweltering. There was a slight breeze and the sun felt toasty and warm. She sat and called the local paper for a subscription and also called to set up cable, something her grandmother abhorred. She wanted the service for the Internet and phone as well as the entertainment. Sylvia continued to sit, dreamily gazing at the sky and water, focusing on absolutely nothing. Her limbs were heavy and she didn’t feel as though she could move. She continued to sit – leaving her mind a blank. Quite a while later, she jolted in the chair realizing she must have dozed off. The sun had started to dip and was throwing out its last hurrah of blazing golden light before setting. Her stomach rumbled reminding her it had been a long time since lunch.

  Sylvia rose from her chair and went into the kitchen and surveyed the freezer with its variety of meals before choosing one. She popped it in the microwave and took the opportunity to call her mother while it was cooking.

  Her mother answered in surprise at her call and informed her she would be picking her up on Thursday to meet with the attorney at 10:30 in the morning. Sylvia rolled her eyes and didn’t comment when her mom suggested she wear something conservative, but “nice.”

  She told her mother she had helped Marian with some gardening chores and had subscribed to the local paper and signed up for Internet service so that she could job search, hoping it would appease her mother for the moment. They hung up and Sylvia retrieved her dinner from the microwave.

  Sitting at the table alone, she thought wistfully of the meal Owen and Marian were probably having. Marian had likely whipped up another spectacular gourmet meal. She ate her frozen meal with the silence of the house pressing upon her and the light in the kitchen seemed nearly blinding. Sylvia sat and pondered what Gran’s intention was when she left her the house. Gran knew that Sylvia loved the place, but…a house. Her original excitement diminished and a small flicker of panic grew inside of Sylvia as she sat at the kitchen table. She didn’t have a clue as to how to take care of a house—especially an older home with many quirks. This neighborhood was now virtually a retirement community and the houses that had been built since the depression were a contractor’s dream. She couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t see at least two or three contractors flit from house to house like a honeybee fixing leaks and old wires. Her grandmother had often joked that she lived the episode of “This Old House” from PBS and still received the magazine. Sylvia had only shared an apartment with Gwen in the past year and they were never there. She crossed her fingers in hopes that no major repairs loomed in the near future. At the moment it seemed huge and empty. She felt very small as she cleaned up her brief dinner and realized what the books meant when they said a body was ‘rattling round’ a house. Sylvia went and turned on the radio to an oldies station, somewhat louder than her usual. The tunes on the radio helped a little. She sang along with a couple of the more familiar tunes and noticed the mask had wilted a bit more. Sylvia stopped singing, stooped to pick up the mask and went to splash more water on it before she returned to the deck wondering if it needed to be outdoors. She took it to the deck and propped it against the railing where it would get the morning sun. It still spooked her a little bit. She wasn’t sure she wanted the mask to come to life again, but doubt or hope niggled deep inside and the desire to have the green man speak to her again grew.

  Chapter 5

  The sky is filled with stars and the sun,

  This earth with life vibrant.

  Amongst it all I too have received a home

  Out of this wonder my song is born.

  --Rabindranath Tagore

  Sylvia awoke with the sunlight streaming over her and a cool breeze coming through the window. She hadn’t bothered to look at the bedside clock and was surprised to see that it was just after six when she made a small pot of coffee. She took her coffee onto the deck to enjoy the pinkish light of sunrise, warming her hands on her cup as she took a deep breath of the cool morning air, smelling the trees and the sharp, fresh scent of the pines that bordered the property on her right. She loved the way the blue of the water shimmered silver in the early morning light. She stood a few moments lost in the sunrise thinking of absolutely nothing. When her feet were chilled from the cold wood beneath her, she went back to the kitchen to warm up. The pot of basil was still in the kitchen sink. Sylvia buried her nose in the fragrant leaves. Feeling a little silly, she tiptoed out to the front door and placed the basil on the top step. She returned to the kitchen to finish her coffee and have a bite of breakfast. Sylvia realized that her mother would be coming the next day and that she had not cleaned the house as promised. She turned on a local radio stationed and vacuumed, dusted, wiped and mopped until things were sparkling and smelling fresh.

  Pleased with herself and her efforts, Sylvia went out onto the deck for a break and perched on the edge of her favorite chair, the adrenalin still pumping from the hustling and bustling of cleaning. The late afternoon sun was blindingly bright. As Sylvia relaxed and settled back into the chair, her eyes fell on the mask which was once again depleted of leaves with the exception of one small brown leaf that hung like a curl from a forehead. Sylvia assumed that the other leaves had died, fallen off the mask and blown away with the breeze. She felt a pang of regret that the mask was ‘dead’ again. Even though her experience with the mask coming to life seemed dream-like and frightening, deep in her heart, she knew it had happened. What was it the Green Man had said? She wracked her brain to remember…he said he had returned, she remembered. Did he have another message? She couldn’t remember. Sylvia wondered, with a guilty thought, if she had missed some sort of clue or knowledge to keep the mask alive. Was the Green Man still ‘back’ if this mask was dead again? She didn’t have any idea.

  A knock at the door pulled her thoughts away from the mask. She went to the kitchen to see Marian and Owen at the door.

  “Hi,” she said, opening the door, “Come in.”

  “We were apartment hunting in the area for Owen,” Marian told her as they entered, “and we just stopped by to see if you were home.”

  “I just finished some cleaning,” Sylvia said, “and was on the deck taking a break. Why don’t you join me?” she asked politely. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  She looked inquiringly at Owen and offered him a beer and asked Marian what she would like.

  Marian declined the beer and mentioned that she liked to have a glass of sherry in the late afternoon.

  “I think I know where your Grandmother kept it, if you don’t mind me helping myself,” Marian said.

  “Of course not,” Sylvia told her.

  Marian found the bottle of sherry in the dining room buffet and poured a small glass and joined them on the deck. Sylvia perched on the railing while Owen and Marian sat in the pair of Adirondack chairs.

  “Any luck finding an apartment?” she asked Owen.

  He shook his head. “No, not really,” he said. “I like one in town, but thought it could get noisy from the summer tourist traffic,” he said. “And the summer places are outrageous until the off season.”

  Marian and Sylvia both agreed by sympathetically nodding their heads.

  They sat and chatted until Marian suggested they go out for dinner.

  “Just give me a few minutes to clean myself up,” Sylvia said. She left Marian and Owen on the deck and went to change into a long casual dress the color of butterscotch. It was an odd color, but Sylvia knew it
brought out the golden hues in her green eyes and the golden lights in her brown hair. She didn’t want it to look as though she was primping for Owen, but wanted to look nice. She brushed her long hair until it shone and added a little bit of makeup and rejoined them on the deck.

  “Any ideas about dinner?” she asked Owen and Marian.

  “How does Chinese sound?” Marian queried.

  Both Owen and Sylvia agreed and they headed for the local restaurant just outside of town. It was quiet, being mid-week, and there were only two other tables with diners. The waitress sat them near a tinkling fountain with colorful koi swimming in its pool. They ordered a dim sum platter of appetizers and a variety of dishes to share with each other.

  “Do you remember the first time you ate Chinese food with Bran and I?” Marian asked Owen.

  “Owen chuckled, “I think I was about seven or eight years old,” he replied.

  “Yes,” Marian said. “Your parents went to a conference and you were staying with us. We ordered Moo Shu Chicken and convinced you it was a Chinese burrito.”

  “I liked it because it was messy,” Owen confessed, “and I still do,” he commented as the waitress brought the food to their table.

  As they ate, Marian explained that her late husband Bran had mentored Owen’s father. They had remained close through the years.

  “Yes,” Owen said, “Bran guided Dad through the hallowed halls of academia. Phids everywhere,” he said shaking his head and laughing a little.

  “Excuse me,” Sylvia asked, “Did you say ‘Phids’?”

  “Yes,” Owen told her, “Ph.D.’s. Sorry for the academic slang.”

  “Oh,” Sylvia said, understanding dawning on her.

  “It was interesting way to grow up,” he admitted. “Very interesting dinner parties,” he said with a slightly sardonic tone.

  Marian laughed at this. “Yes,” she said, “Someone always has to expound on his or her ideas however boring or bizarre. It certainly stimulates the thinking process.”

  “Absolutely,” Owen agreed and said with humor, “It helped me grow up to be the geek my parents wanted me to be.”

  “Will you be keeping up with your research, Owen?” Marian asked him.

  “Well,” he replied, “I’ll have to see how this job goes,” he said. I still have my theories, but I don’t have any way of proving it. I needed a break from school. Mom and Dad don’t agree though. They want me to continue until I have my doctorate completed, and continue with my thesis and more in depth research.”

  “What are your theories?” Sylvia asked intrigued.

  “I feel that some of the pollutants in the latter half of the century are a catalyst for other problems,” he told her. “It was proven with the pfisteria microbe,” he said, “but I think it reaches further than that. I have an idea of mapping it somehow.”

  “Could you do that with a grant or as a dissertation?” Sylvia asked.

  “Yes,” he said, “That’s why my parents are pushing me to continue, but they understand.”

  “Trust me, I know about pushy parents,” Sylvia said dryly.

  Owen continued, “That’s why I took the job with Thurmont,” he said. “If a large chemical corporation is doing its best to protect the environment, it will be a good example and leader for other corporations. This could be the start of additional regulations regarding dumping practices. I can still keep up with some of my research as I work with them.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” Sylvia exclaimed, nearly jumping out of her seat. “Thurmont? You don’t think it’s a marketing ploy then?” Sylvia asked, she fought to keep her voice at a normal level. “I mean, I grew up thinking of Thurmont as the ‘Big Bad Chemical Plant’ down the road,” she said. “Weren’t they part of huge controversy a couple of years ago?” she asked. “They’re always in the news for some sort of environmental mess up. Didn’t you know?”

  “Yes,” Marian said, “Actually it was one of their branches that caused two major superfund cleanups in the area.”

  “So Thurmont’s going to do its best to come out smelling like a rose,” Sylvia stated flatly.

  Owen looked a little taken aback, but Marian nodded grimly in agreement with Sylvia.

  “I wasn’t aware of that,” Owen said. He looked thoughtful. “I guess I jumped at the chance to leave the ‘hallowed halls of academia’ when the head hunter came knocking on my campus door. I knew you were in the area Marian, and I didn’t think of much else. It was my escape.”

  “I hope you’re right about Thurmont,” Sylvia told him, “of having the desire to change company policy to be more environmentally conscious. Unfortunately, they have a long history of the opposite. It would be a nice change.”

  “Owen might be that catalyst,” Marian said proudly patting Owen’s hand.

  The waitress brought their check and their fortune cookies. Marian changed the subject.

  “What are your plans for the next few days, Syl?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow’s the big day with the attorney,” Sylvia told them. “Mom’s coming down in the morning and we’ll be going to sign the papers for the house.”

  She paused for a moment. “It’s still very surreal,” she said. “I keep expecting Gran to walk in at any moment,” her voice catching in her throat.

  Marian reached over a squeezed her hand and Sylvia smiled at her gratefully.

  “What does your fortune cookie say?” Owen asked Sylvia and Marian, changing the subject again.

  They each read their fortunes out loud and laughed over the advice as they left the restaurant. Owen and Marian declined coming in for drink and Sylvia was relieved, as she yawned several times on the way back from the restaurant. Sylvia picked up a book she wanted to read and listlessly turned the pages. The print danced before her eyes. Sylvia dropped the book on the floor next to the bed. She turned out the light too tired to even read and hugged the pillow tight and listened to the night sounds of insects and the soothing lap, lap of the water against the shore.

  Chapter 6

  What would become of our souls,

  If they lacked the bread of earthly reality to nourish them,

  The wine of created beauty to intoxicate them,

  The discipline of human struggle to make them strong?

  -Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

  Sylvia’s mother arrived promptly at 8:30 the next morning. She nodded approvingly at Sylvia’s choice of a simple black pantsuit and cream silk blouse.

  “I still need to put on a little make-up,” Sylvia told her mother. “Why don’t you have a cup of coffee and I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.” She poured her mother a cup and freshened up hers.

  Her mother went out to the living room and Sylvia returned upstairs to comb through her hair and braided it into a French braid. She added minimal make up, looked herself over in the mirror and then glanced out the bathroom window and saw her mother at the deck railing looking out at the water.

  “I’m ready,” Sylvia called out the window.

  Her mother glanced up before answering, “Okay, I’ll meet you out at the car.”

  The twenty-minute drive to the attorney’s office at the County seat was a quiet one. Both were lost in their own thoughts about the upcoming meeting. When they arrived, they only had to wait for a few minutes.

  Their attorney, Mr. Simons, stood up when they entered his office and shook their hands.

  “Sit down, sit down,” he said, motioning to two high back leather chairs.

  “I’m sorry about your loss,” he told them as he went to sit behind a gleaming desk and picked up a sheaf of papers.

  He looked over his half moon glasses and spoke to Sylvia, “You’re a very lucky young lady,” he commented.

  Sylvia nodded politely. She didn’t feel lucky. She would much rather have Gran back than to have a house, but she kept silent.

  He cleared his throat a couple of times. “I’ll read the will and then we’ll sign the papers,” he said.

  A
lump formed in her throat as he read the will. Sylvia swallowed hard. Her mother took her hand and held it – hard. Her other hand was clutching her handbag. The will stated that Sylvia was granted the house and a small legacy for taxes and some minor living expenses. Her mother received stocks and other investments. It was all very proper and very solemn. And it was probably good that it was solemn and proper to keep their emotions at bay, Sylvia thought to herself.

  They thanked Mr. Simon and her mother suggested they go out for an early lunch at a tavern noted for their crab dishes. They ordered bowls of crab bisque and sat quietly sipping iced tea, still quiet. The lump in Sylvia’s throat had grown larger. Now she had a headache behind her eyes. It was beginning to throb mercilessly.

  Finally her mother said, “I need to be back at work tomorrow so I’ll leave later this afternoon. I thought I would come back Saturday morning for the long weekend,” she told Sylvia who nodded and closed her eyes against the pain in her head.

  “I thought we could ask Marian to come over on Sunday for a barbeque,” she continued and then visit the graves on Monday—early, so that I can miss the boating traffic.”

  Sylvia nodded, but added, “It will be Marian and Owen.” She took a sip of cold water and her head pounded harder.

  “Owen, who?” her mother asked.

  “He’s a friend of the family who will begin working at Thurmont on Tuesday. He’s staying with Marian until he can find an apartment,” she told her mother. “I think Marian and her husband were like surrogate grandparents to him.”

  “Have you met him?” her mother asked.

  “Yes,” Sylvia answered, “He’s a little bit of a nerd,” she told her, “but very nice. He’s just completed a masters program.”

  Their soup came and Sylvia was glad. She didn’t want to answer any more questions about Owen. All she wanted to do was to lie down. She couldn’t eat and pushed the bowl away.

  “Are you all right?” her mother asked noticing Sylvia’s pale face.