He changed the subject. “How’ve you been making out since your Granny Holly died?” he asked her.
“Okay, I guess,” Sylvia said soberly. “It wasn’t easy to be here today.” She paused and then asked in surprise, “Granny Holly? How did you know her name?” she asked him. “Did you know her?”
“Oh, I knew your Grandmother,” he told her.
“How?” Sylvia interrupted incredulous.
“We belonged to some of the same groups,” he said.
“What kind of groups?” Sylvia pressed on.
“Environmental stuff,” he said. “In fact, I just got back from an assign…” he broke off, “a trip about two months ago,” he corrected himself.
“That’s interesting,” she said. “I’d like to hear more about your volunteering sometime.”
Ed nodded distractedly. “How’s your friend Owen doing?” he asked.
“Well, not too well,” Sylvia said. “They’re trying to pin this murder on him.”
“He didn’t do it,” Ed said matter of factly.
“I know,” Sylvia said, “but, now we need to prove that. And,” she continued, “it seems as though Anna made an enemy of everyone she met, so who knows who did it.”
“Yup,” Ed agreed and he rocked back and forth on his heels.
Sylvia saw Headley heading their way. “Excuse me,” she said, “I need to go.”
She walked quickly over to the ladies room and scooted inside. She sat on a small padded bench just inside the door and tapped her fingers. Someone came inside and Sylvia pretended to go through her purse as if looking for something. She waited a few minutes and then peeked out the door. Headley wasn’t in sight. Sylvia looked through the arched doorways and saw him in conversation with two other people. When he was looking the other way, she went out the front door and to her car with a small sigh of relief.
Chapter 23
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
--William Wordsworth
Ode, Intimations of Immortality
Sylvia drove back to Marian’s house anxious to see if Owen was out on bail. The Anderson car wasn’t in the drive. Sylvia parked and raced inside. Marian was in the study reading. She looked up at Sylvia’s apprehensive face when she walked in.
“Not yet,” she said softly. “We’re in the waiting game. Phil and Anne are hoping to bring him home soon. Why don’t you go and get comfortable,” she said.
Sylvia went upstairs to change. When she came down, Marian asked if she would water the garden. Sylvia went to the shed to drag out the hose. She stared unthinkingly at the rainbows created by the droplets of water spraying the garden. She was just finishing the last half of the garden when the Anderson’s car pulled in. She tried unsuccessfully to see if Owen was inside through the tinted windows and felt her stomach drop as the doors opened. Owen’s tall lanky form emerged and she dropped the hose and ran over to him. He took her in his arms and buried his face in her hair and held her tightly. They stood together for a long time just holding on. Tears leaked from her eyes slowly at first and then tumbled faster and faster. Owen held her as her body shook with sobs and then he took her hands and kissed the tears on her face. He kissed her and her hair and hugged her again. Sylvia looked up and smiled at him through the tears as she attempted to wipe away the tears with the back of her hand.
“I’d better turn off the hose,” she said. “Why don’t you go in to see Marian. I’m sure she’s anxious to see you.
But, he didn’t need to go in. Marian came running down the steps to give him a hug and he bear-hugged her in return. Sylvia went back to turn off the water and roll up the hose.
“Let me help,” Anne said to Sylvia.
“But, you’ll get covered in garden mud,” Sylvia insisted. “I can get it.”
Anne insisted on staying and helping her roll up the hose before they went inside. While they did, Anne briefed Sylvia on what took place to get Owen out on bail. Owen had disappeared upstairs and Sylvia heard the muffled sounds of the shower running when they stepped into the house. Sylvia went into the powder room to wash her face and clean up from the garden. When she emerged, she saw to seeing Marian looking slightly harried.
“Sylvia, could you set the table please?” Marian asked, “and put on extra napkins. We’ll need them with dinner.”
Puzzled, Sylvia followed Marian’s directions giving each person a few extra napkins at their place. Anne came in with champagne glasses.
“Marian said she had champagne left over from her party a couple of weeks ago,” she said to Sylvia, “so we’re opening some this evening. Appropriate, don’t you think?”
“Certainly,” Sylvia said.
They stood, in slightly awkward silence, in the dining room until Owen came in, wet curls glistening. Both Anne and Sylvia beamed at him. Marian came in at nearly the same time with platters of fresh fruit and cold steamed shrimp.
“Marian, I may have used up all of your hot water,” Owen told her. “I felt as though I couldn’t get clean enough,” he said to them.
“Don’t even think twice about it,” Marian said surveying the table. “You know, I think I’ll need the plates in the kitchen,” she told them.
Anne and Sylvia gathered them up and took them to the kitchen where Marian arranged lettuces and crab salad on each.
“Owen, would you cut the bread?” she asked him handing him a baguette and a knife.
“Sylvia and Anne, I need the little finger bowls from the china closet. We can put seafood sauce in those for the shrimp,” Marian said.
“Marian, you’re pulling out all the stops once again,” Owen commented.
“And rightly so,” she said. “We’re glad to have you home,” she told him giving him a hug.
“Where’s Dad?” he asked Anne.
“In his glory in Marian’s study reading Bran’s collection of books,” Anne told Owen. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to extract him from whatever tome he’s poring over,” she laughed. “Owen, go and get him for dinner.”
“He’s welcome to Bran’s books,” Marian said. “I don’t know why I never thought of it before.”
“Our house is currently groaning under the weight of all of the books,” Anne moaned. “Please, let’s break it to him gently by telling him he can have a handful this trip. Is that okay?” she pleaded to Marian.
“Of course,” she said. “You’ll know where they are when you want to get the rest.”
“Thank you,” Anne said with relief.
They all went into the dining room. Marian lit the small candelabra on the table and the oak in the room picked up the warm glow. Owen came in and Phil followed, looking a bit dazed from his reading.
“Did you find something good?” Anne teased.
“Oh, yes!” he breathed, not realizing she was teasing him, “it’s a wonderful book on the Battle of Brandywine. I don’t know why I hadn’t read it before. Bran must have been holding out on me,” he said with a dazed chuckle.
“It’s yours,” Marian said. “Please take it home.”
“Thank you, Marian,” Phil said formally, “I shall treasure it.”
They sat down to eat. They toasted Owen’s return with champagne and Owen raised his glass “to freedom!” he toasted. Everyone raised their glasses and toasted with him. Owen asked about the funeral and Sylvia told them about Grace and the revelations of Anna’s sordid past.”
“Poor thing,” Anne said. “She must have been horribly abused by her parents. No wonder she was so bitter.”
“Mom, you didn’t know her,” Owen said. “I’m sorry to hear that her childhood was so horrible, but she was an extremely devious person.”
“Marian,” Sylvia said, changing the subject, “Do you know of a young man by the name of Ed that might have been in a group with Gran?”
/> “Ed,” Marian said thoughtfully, “Do you know his last name?”
“The custodian?” Owen asked.
“Yes,” Sylvia answered. “Apparently he knew Gran through one of her causes.”
“Probably ecological,” Marian assumed, and she paused.
Owen interrupted, “Ed Davenport is his name, I think.”
“Ed Davenport!” Marian exclaimed. “Maureen’s son. He was involved with Green Peace, but believe it or not, that was too tame and politically correct so he was part of some other radical organization with an ecological focus. I can’t remember the name, but he came to this area to try to convince us to join. It was far too radical for our interests.”
“Ed? Radical?” Sylvia asked. “I’m not sure that we’re talking about the same person,” she said. “He’s a very clean cut and conservative kind of guy.”
“You never know,” Phil commented, “they say still waters run deep.”
“Radical enough to kill?” Anne asked in a calm quiet voice. Silence fell over the table.
“Maybe I should call Jon after dinner,” Marian said. “Perhaps he could pass the information on to police or use it in court at least.”
“Well,” Owen said, “I hope they find the damn emails that I sent out to the executives. Something fishy is going on. If they would only listen to me and look at the copies on my home email, they would see that I was telling the truth!” he stated vehemently.
“Unfortunately, that will probably take some time,” Phil said. “That bullshit seems to take forever even if it means someone’s freedom lies in the balance.”
They finished dinner in quiet. When Marian told Owen to sit down when he started to clear the table, he said, “No, I want things to be as normal as possible,” he turned to Sylvia, “Help me with the dishes?” he asked.
“You bet,” she answered, and she followed him into the kitchen.
They rinsed and stacked the dishes in the dishwasher in silence. After they finished cleaning up, Owen pulled Sylvia to him.
“I missed you,” he said softly brushing at a stray hair with his fingertips.
“I missed you too,” she started to say when the door swung open and Anne came out with the champagne flutes.
Sylvia pulled away from Owen, feeling like she was in high school and caught kissing on the front porch.
“I thought you were washing dishes,” Anne teased lightly.
“All done,” Owen said, “with the exception of the champagne glasses.”
“I’ll do these,” Anne said.
“If you insist,” Owen teased his mother. “Syl, lets go sit out on the patio.”
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Sylvia asked Anne.
“Go,” Anne ordered. “Phil is back with Bran’s books and Marian is on the phone with Jon. I think I can handle a few glasses.” She pushed her long dark hair off her shoulders.
Owen and Sylvia went to sit on the patio. He had brought matches so that they could light the citronella candles near them. They sat on the small bench and Owen put his arm around Sylvia. She snuggled into the hollow of his shoulder and gave a contented sigh as she watched the candles flicker in the dusky night. Fireflies were low to the ground twinkling in Marian’s yard and out through the meadow to the edge of the trees. The hum of cicadas filled the air. She nuzzled into his shoulder more and was once again totally amazed at how comfortable, and at peace, that she felt when she was with Owen.
“Are you going into work tomorrow?” Sylvia murmured.
“I don’t know if they’ll want me to come in,” Owen said bitterly. “I’ll need to talk with Keely in the morning.”
She hadn’t thought of them not wanting Owen to return. The thought was startling.
“Do you wonder what made those…those tracks on Anna?” Sylvia asked him.
“I think about it all the time,” Owen admitted. “I can’t get the picture out of my head,” he paused, “and I can’t figure it out,” he said with exasperation.
“I can’t get it out of my mind either,” Sylvia admitted. “Do you think it has something to do with the soil and the chemical dumping?” Sylvia broached sitting up now.
“Possibly,” Owen mused. “But, I’ve never seen an animal or organism that would do something like that,” he said.
“But, if its something in the soil,” Sylvia pushed on, “And it did that to Anna, what is it doing to everything around it?”
Owen pushed Sylvia away somewhat roughly, stood up and raked his fingers through his hair. “Look Sylvia, don’t try to be a fucking Erin Brockovich! Look where it got me!” he exclaimed. He looked at her with a glare that she had not seen before in his eyes. He turned from her and paced the patio.
Sylvia was taken aback and shaken by his vehemence. Anger seemed to fill Owen’s body and the air between them was charged. It was a little frightening. Before Sylvia could think of a retort, Marian’s voice came from the kitchen door, “Sylvia?” she asked to the night air. “Sylvia, your Mom is on the phone.”
“Be right there,” Sylvia called back. She stood up to go into the house and still couldn’t think of how to answer Owen, still stung by his words. Owen’s back was to her.
Sylvia went in to talk with her Mom. She asked how things were going and said she would be down for the holiday weekend.
“Holiday?” Sylvia asked puzzled.
“The 4th of July is Friday, sweetheart,” her Mom told her.
“Oh!” Sylvia said, “The days have been running all together in the last week.”
“I’m sure,” her Mother answered, “Marian’s filled me in a bit on what has been happening. Why don’t you ask Marian, Owen and his parents if they want to come to a barbeque on the fourth? You know how we have a great view of the fireworks from Gran’s front yard.”
Okay,” Sylvia said, a little distractedly.
“Are you all right, Syl?” her mother asked concerned.
“Yes,” Sylvia said, “Yes, I’ll be all right. See you.”
She hung up and went in to Marian and Anne who were talking in the living room. She asked about the fourth and they both agreed. Then she told Marian she would be leaving in the morning and thanked her for everything. Marian started to protest and looked at her questioningly.
“I need to clean the house before Mom arrives,” she told them a flimsy excuse for leaving. “I’m pretty tired, so I’ll say goodnight.”
She went up to her room to start to pack. She couldn’t help but, glance out the window. Owen was sitting on the patio with his head in his hands. She didn’t know whether to go out to him or not. She decided not to and went to bed.
Owen was still asleep when Sylvia got up to go to work. She packed up her car after dressing and went back in to have a cup of coffee with Marian and Anne. Sylvia didn’t know what to say to them. Marian kept up the conversation about the 4th of July celebrations in town and how it would be wonderful to see it from Sylvia’s property. It was soon time to go to work. Sylvia gave Marian a hug and Marian held her tightly.
“Thank you for everything,” Sylvia told her and gave Marian a kiss on her cheek.
“If you need anything, you let me know,” Marian said.
Sylvia nodded. For some reason, she wanted to cry.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said to Anne.
Sylvia went out to her car before Anne could stand up to give her a hug. She thought she heard the scrap of a comment between Marian and Anne “I wonder what happened between those two?” Tears let loose in the car and she sniffled at stop lights. Finally she pulled over, blew her nose loudly and turned up the volume on the radio. She was morose as she continued driving. Mr. Carter had taken the rest of the week as a vacation and it was much too quiet in the office. She banged a few things around and scolded herself. She and Owen didn’t have a fight, but she was as miserable as if they had. She was shocked when he physically pushed her and shouted at her. She understood only a little of what he was going through and she was frustrated because she
didn’t know how to help him. She wondered if he was right about his comment. A head peeped around the doorway. It was Ed.
“Hi,” Sylvia said glad to see another face. She gave him a relieved smile.
“Is it cool enough for you?” he asked.
“Yes,” Sylvia said, “I’m fine.”
“Good,” he said, “there are a couple of women down the hall having hot flashes and claiming the air conditioning isn’t on. I’m running through on a quick check,” he told her.
Sylvia nodded. Then she remembered about Gran.
“Ed,” she called as he turned to go.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said as he turned back to her with a grin.
“You said you knew my grandmother?” Sylvia said.
His face took on an expression that she couldn’t quite figure out. Guarded would be a correct word. He nodded. Sylvia wanted to tread carefully.
“I wanted to join some of the same groups that Gran belonged to,” she told him, hoping her face didn’t give away the lies.
“I don’t belong to them anymore,” he told her. “I used to belong to a couple of the local ‘save the bay’ type organizations. I didn’t like the politics in them. I wouldn’t get involved if I were you,” he suggested.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “But, I’ve enjoyed getting the stream watch going,” she said, “despite what happened afterwards,” she said in a quieter tone. “And I wouldn’t mind getting involved and meeting some of Gran’s friends. I feel the same as Gran regarding environmental issues,” she told him.
“Well I know that the one group was ineffectual. It involved cleaning up the trash on the shoreline to make it pretty for the high paying tourists, but it never got to the root of the problem,” he persisted. “Everyone who wanted to ‘be’ someone in town would put on their sloppy clothes and pose for the newspaper a couple of times a year as they picked up a piece of trash.”
Sylvia wasn’t quite sure how to respond, but asked, “What is the root of the problem?”
“Big companies who are poisoning the area and paying off politicians to cover it up!” he said vehemently, anger flashing in his eyes.
The Greening: a novel of romantic suspense...with a touch of magic (The Green Man Series Book 1) Page 29
