All of a sudden, he reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t think who it was. Inside she thought, “like Thurmont,” saying it silently to herself.
“Is anyone going after them?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, “but, not so that anyone would notice,” he said quietly as he stepped inside the office to speak more closely to her.
Sylvia changed the subject, “How’s your poison ivy?” she asked him.
“Not much better,” he said, holding up his arm that was now more heavily bandaged. “The doctor put me on steroids. I hope it helps,” he said shaking his head. “It’s like something is eating away at the skin,” he confessed.
Warning bells clanged in Sylvia’s head, but she kept on making conversation.
“Ooh, it sounds awful!” Sylvia exclaimed, “You weren’t bitten by a brown recluse spider or something were you?” she asked. “I heard that the wounds from them are like that and I know they’re in this wooded area.”
“Good idea,” he said and then he shook his head, “These crazy doctors. I don’t think half of them know what they’re doing.”
“That’s why they call it ‘practicing’ medicine,” Sylvia said lightly.
He nodded in response to her and glanced up at the wall clock and said, “Gotta run,” he told her. “Nice talking with you.”
“Same here,” Sylvia said.
Ed left and Sylvia closed the door. She called Marian and asked for Jon’s phone number because she thought she had a piece of information. Marian gave it to her, but said he was most likely in court at that time of day. She gave Sylvia his home phone number also.
“How are things going?” Sylvia asked in general.
“We’re all hot and cranky,” Marian told her. “Except Phil, he is as happy as a clam with Bran’s books. Owen is moping around the house complaining of the heat and Anne and I were thinking of going some place cool to go shopping,” she told her.
“I wish I was going shopping with you,” Sylvia said. “It’s quite dull here and I can’t concentrate,” she confessed to Marian.
“I know, honey,” Marian said sympathetically, “But as the old saying goes, “It’ll all come out in the wash.”
“Maybe,” Sylvia said.
Carol walked in with a hearty ‘hello’ and then clapped her hand over her mouth when she saw Sylvia on the phone.
“I need to go,” Sylvia said. “See you tomorrow night.”
“I’m so sorry,” Carol told her, “I’m always opening up my big mouth at the wrong time!”
“It’s okay,” Sylvia said. “I was on the phone with Marian for a minute. I don’t even think she heard you.”
“Good,” Carol sighed with relief. “C’mon, let’s go to lunch.”
Sylvia locked up the office and they went down to the cafeteria. It was sparse with employees and so was the food.
“Everyone is on vacation today,” Carol complained as she surveyed at the meager choices.
Sylvia didn’t know what to choose either. Most of the salads were looking wilted. She finally settled on a sandwich. Carol was waiting for something to be cooked, so Sylvia checked out and sat down. She stared at the trees on the property. You could feel the pressure building outside. Her temples were throbbing. It was cloudy, but didn’t look like rain.
Carol finally sat down and they both started to eat without much conversation.
“What are you doing over the fourth?” Sylvia asked Carol.
“I’m headed to the beach with my Mom,” Carol said. “and I’m packed and ready to go! You?” she asked.
“My Mom is coming down,” she told Carol, “she invited Marian, Owen and his parents for a barbeque and to watch the fireworks from the front yard.” Sylvia’s voice was unenthusiastic.
“What’s wrong?” Carol asked.
“Nothing…really,” Sylvia said, hesitating.
“C’mon, girlfriend,” Carol pressured, “Fess up! It must have to do with Owen.”
Sylvia sighed and stirred the straw in her glass. “I don’t know,” she said. “We didn’t exactly have a fight, but…I don’t know. It’s weird.” She shook her head and took another bite of her sandwich.
“Well,” Carol said, “he’s most likely upset with Thurmont,” she told Sylvia. “They won’t let him return to work until his charge has been cleared.”
Sylvia groaned. “He was afraid of that,” she said. She didn’t want to divulge what she knew about Anna, Ed or the ooze theory. Carol would think she had gone crazy.
“So you had a lover’s spat,” Carol said. “Making up will be terrific,” she grinned.
“I don’t know,” Sylvia said. “The cops are keeping a close eye on us,” she told Carol. “It’s strange to be half in and half out of a relationship, and to have voyeurs hovering all about you, watching your every move.”
Carol made sympathetic sounds. “I can’t imagine,” she said.
“Look,” Carol said, “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I want to leave a little early today, so I’m going to scoot back upstairs,” she said, “and don’t worry!” she demanded.
Sylvia finished her sandwich and drink. The cafeteria had cleared even more, so she went back to the office. She felt like doing absolutely nothing. She tried to call Jon, but he was away for the weekend. Her spirits flagged. She checked her email, surfed the Internet and wrote a long newsy note to Gwen. As soon as the clock struck four, she locked the door, hurried down the hallway and headed for home.
It seemed strange to be back in her house and all alone. Despite the heat, the house smelled stuffy and Sylvia opened up all of the windows to let it air. She checked messages, but found none of interest and got to work getting unpacked. It was late by the time she finished her laundry, vacuumed and placed the house in decent order. Then she realized she was hungry. Not wanting to go out, she called to a local pizza place to deliver dinner. She sat outside in the waning light to wait for the delivery. Boats were filling up the bay and even the water seemed as tired as she as it lapped at the shore lazily. Even the wake from the speedboats seemed to be lackadaisical. Something was different and she couldn’t think what it was. She stared at the water until a loud clearing of a throat made her jump. It was the delivery guy and after recovering, she handed him the cash as well as a generous tip before getting a second cold beer from the refrigerator.
She sat in the living room at a tray table, turned on the television and started to eat. After about five minutes of channel surfing, she decided what was on was moronic, and turned it off and stared at the water again. She had to admit to herself that she was lonely. She had become quite used to living with Marian and Owen and had enjoyed their company. Clouds were definitely gathering and she hoped it wouldn’t rain for the Fourth of July celebrations. She kept staring out the French doors and the windows. Something was different. It finally struck her that someone had taken the time to cut her grass! Sylvia stood up and walked over to the French doors. Whoever had cut her grass had also taken the time to trim. Owen. It had to have been him. She wondered if this was a form of apology.
Chapter 24
For man is of a quickening spirit and the earth, the strong, incoming tides and rhythms of nature move in his blood and being.
--Henry Beston
“They did a good job,” a familiar voice said behind her.
Sylvia whirled around and saw the Green Man, lounging on her couch, one leg crossed over the other and arms stretched out along the back.
“You,” Sylvia stated, “Did you cut the grass?” she asked.
The Green Man’s laugh was answer enough. It was such an ebullient laugh and even the corners of her mouth turned up involuntarily.
When he had finished laughing and wiped away a tear he said, “I can make the grass grow, but I don’t usually cut it,” he said with humor. “I usually leave that to humankind who like to put things in neat, orderly spaces.”
Sylvia sat down on the couch next to him. “Well then, it probably was Owen,” she
said.
The Green Man didn’t nod or give her an indication of an answer but sat, looking at her steadily.
“Do you drink?” she asked. “Can I get you something?”
“I do drink,” he said, “but, I’ve brought my own elixir,” he said and he pulled out a bottle from an unknown pocket of the green brocade of leaves. It was like a hip flask, yet worked in leaves and twigs of a shimmering glass.
“Do you have a glass or two?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” Sylvia said, hopping up from the couch. She went out to the dining room and pulled a couple of cut crystal tumblers from the china closet, rinsed them and dried them quickly and brought them back to the Green Man.
“This is strong stuff,” he warned her as he poured it.
“What is it?” she asked, looking at the clear liquid that seemed to be shot through with rainbows. She sniffed it and it was fragrant of honey.
“I don’t have a word that you would understand,” he said. “It’s like a very strong mead,” he explained, “Try it.”
Mead. That was a honey wine. Sylvia took a swallow and coughed violently. It was the strongest alcoholic drink she had ever tried.
“Sip at it,” the Green Man advised with a broad smile on his face.
She took a sip. It was like nothing she ever tasted—honey-like and laced with herbs, fruit and flowers. It tasted of the earth and of green. It was sharp, heady and sweet at the same time. She liked it.
“It’s lovely,” she proclaimed, as she took another sip.
“Good,” said the Green Man smiling.
They talked long into the night, sipping at the liqueur and talking. It was much, much later that Sylvia woke up with a start and fell off the couch not knowing where she was. She stood up and rubbed at her backside and wondered if it was a dream that woke her. A flash of light filled the room and it was followed by a crack of thunder. The smell of ozone filled the room. The curtains blew violently and Sylvia went to close windows and doors. A moment later, torrents of rain began to come down.
She closed and locked the windows on the first floor, then ran upstairs to close the windows against the rain in the bedrooms and bath. Her own windows she left open a small bit, to allow the breeze to come in. She undressed and lay down on the bed to listen to the storm and try to recapture her memory of the evening. She and the Green Man had talked about so many things. She knew she had asked him again why he was appearing and he answered, again, that there was a crisis that he was needed to assist with. He said there had been a united resonance from people concerned about the earth. “But,” she had asked him, “why me?” He had answered her with an enigmatic smile and said again, that she was needed and that it was in her blood. When he had tried to tell her she was on the right ‘path,’ she had scoffed at him. She knew he had given her some insights about the murder and now she couldn’t remember. Details of the many-threaded conversation were vague. She must have fallen asleep talking. Her dreams had been sensual with Owen as well as the Green Man as a focal point, and this embarrassed her. Sylvia tossed and turned on her bed uncomfortably. The heat had risen in the house and she tore off the top sheet and went to open the windows wider. The violence of the storm had passed and the rain poured steadily. Sylvia crawled back onto the bed, hugged a pillow and fell sleep.
It seemed as if it was a dream, when she heard her mother’s voice calling to her. She woke dazedly and her Mom was at her door knocking.
“Syl?” she asked coming into the room, “are you okay?”
Groggily Sylvia sat up, “Yes, I’m okay,” she said to her mother. “Aren’t you awfully early?” she asked.
“Well, a little,” her mother told her, “but, it’s after nine and I was sure you would be awake,” she said remonstrating her a little.
“Nine? Really?” she exclaimed. “I was up a little late last night,” she told her mom, “and I tossed and turned quite a bit with the thunderstorm.” As she spoke Sylvia looked outside. There wasn’t a trace of a cloud in the sky. There was definitely no sign of the previous night’s storm. It was a sparklingly clear summer’s day.
“We had a storm, too,” her mother said, “but it rolled through fairly quickly.”
“Why don’t I go down and make you some coffee,” her mother offered, “while you get up and dress.”
“Thanks,” Sylvia said. She went over to shower and dress letting her hair dry naturally in the warm air, and went down to her mother.
She had made the coffee and poured Sylvia a cup as she walked into the kitchen. Sylvia added some milk and sat down at the kitchen table to sit and sip. She definitely liked her café au lait much better, but didn’t want to seem rude. She felt as though she had a slight hangover, head fuzzy and a slight headache.
“What were you drinking last night?” her mother asked her sniffing at the glass that she had brought in from the kitchen. “It smells quite strong. You should be careful about drinking alone,” her mother prattled on with warnings.
“I know, Mom,” Sylvia said, “I was upset about some things and had a stiff drink, okay?” She was trying hard not to sound petulant and wondered what had happened to the other glass. She couldn’t really tell her mother she had been drinking with a mythological archetype!
“What were you upset about?” her Mom pressed.
“Oh, Owen and I had…” Sylvia paused, “I’m not sure what it was…” she sighed.
“He’s going through a lot right now,” her Mom said in his defense.
“I know,” Sylvia said, “and I feel rather helpless.” She got up to put a couple of slices of bread in the toaster and pulled the aspirin bottle from the cupboard.
“Just be there to listen through the good and the bad,” her Mom advised.
Sylvia stayed silent and continued to drink her coffee. She thought that this time, perhaps her mother’s advice should be heeded. She was glad she didn’t feel too hung over from the Green Man’s honeyed liqueur, but she was pensive. Her toast popped and she buttered it and took a bite along with taking the aspirin.
Sylvia finished her first cup of coffee and got up again to make a second cup as café au lait and pour her mother another cup of black coffee. Her mom informed her that she was going to have the basic all American barbeque with hotdogs and hamburgers, potato salad and baked beans. She told Sylvia that Marian and Anne were bringing the watermelon, fresh vegetable tray and a dessert. She prattled on about the evening and asked Sylvia if she would run down to the liquor store near the marina and pick up a case of cold beer and a variety of wines. Sylvia nodded to the conversation and went to get her keys.
“I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,” she told her mom as she headed out the door.
“Don’t forget a couple of bags of ice,” her mom called after her.
Sylvia waved in response. She drove to the liquor store in a haze and picked up all of the items. It was crowded with boaters and tourists. She picked her way through the people and loaded up a shopping cart with the requested items for her Mom. She was trying in vain to remember her conversation with the Green Man. Pieces of their conversation would jump into her memory and then quickly leave her. She knew she laughed quite a bit and he also reassured her that everything was all right. Remembering this allayed some of her fear. She drove home. Sylvia heard the vacuum cleaner humming as she unloaded the car and put the wine and beer in the refrigerator to chill and put the ice in the freezer. She noticed her mom had hooked up her crock-pot and the baked beans were bubbling on the counter, filling the house with their savory scent. She went in search of her mother to find out when everyone would arrive. The day seemed to drag at first as Sylvia cleaned and helped her mother with the potato salad for the arrival of everyone at four o’clock.
When they sat down to a light lunch her mother said admiringly, “You’re really getting the hang of mowing the lawn and the trim work.”
“Thanks,” Sylvia said ruefully, “but, it wasn’t my handiwork this time.”
“Oh?�
�� her mother questioned, “Whom did you hire to do the lawn?”
“No one,” Sylvia answered her. “I came home yesterday and it was done. I noticed it last night at dinner and I suspect it was Owen.”
“That was nice of him,” her mother said, “I’ll have to ask him and thank him.”
“Me too, I guess,” Sylvia said.
“What happened between you two?” her mother asked. “I thought everything was hunky-dory.”
“I don’t know if it’s ever been hunky-dory,” Sylvia said wearily, “and I can’t really tell you what happened except that he seems to be pushing me away. I guess you could say we almost have a relationship.”
“Well, I think that’s natural after what he’s been through,” her mother sympathized more.
“I guess so,” Sylvia said.
It was after three when she ran upstairs to shower and decided to change into the pretty sundress she had bought the month before. No sense in wasting it, she thought. She wondered how Owen would be tonight, whether or not he would push her away again, or if he was back to being interested in a relationship. It was confusing and depressing.
It was just after four when Marian, Anne, Phil and Owen arrived. Sylvia made introductions and offered to get everyone drinks as they headed for the living room and the deck. She barely looked at Owen and it was her mother who asked him if he had cut the grass. Owen looked sheepish and nodded that he had.
“Thank you,” Sylvia said as she handed him a cold beer avoiding his eyes.
“You’re welcome,” he told her, trying to get her to look at him.
Sylvia perched herself on the railing of the deck. Anne commented on how lovely the house was and her mother took her in for a tour with Marian trailing behind. Phil sat back in the deck chair and put his hat over his eyes, looking as though he absolutely belonged in that very spot. Sylvia nearly laughed. She admired his way of tuning out chunks of the world at whim. She and Owen were left, sitting and not looking at each other. Sylvia craned her head to look out at the bay and river. Boats headed up toward the town park in droves honking their horns and sending huge wakes rippling over the water. It would be lovely tonight when they lit up their boats in parade formation. She was looking forward to it.
The Greening: a novel of romantic suspense...with a touch of magic (The Green Man Series Book 1) Page 30
