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

by Sharon Brubaker

  “Would you like to take a walk?” Owen asked her.

  Sylvia turned back to face him. “Sure,” she answered and hopped down from the railing. “Beach or road?” she asked him.

  “Beach,” he told her firmly and he followed her down the steps and toward the water.

  They walked in silence down to the water and turned towards the marina. Owen started to say something and then stopped. Sylvia didn’t know what to say either and so they continued to walk in silence.

  “Syl,” Owen said, when they neared the marina, “I’m sorry if I offended you or upset you the other night.”

  “I don’t know if I was offended,” Sylvia told him uncomfortably. “You scared me a little and you gave me reason to think about…” she started to say.

  “Syl, you have no idea how horrible it was in jail!” he interrupted her with a passionate plea. “I can’t even begin to…” he broke off and shuddered at the memory, and then said more seriously. “And I don’t like being a scapegoat for a crime I didn’t commit!”

  They continued to walk and went up the road past the house and past the small nine hole golf course, that was built when the community began. Hardly anyone ever used it these days, thought Sylvia as they walked past, but she remembered when it had been dotted with people when she was a child. Now most of the golfers had died, retired or moved to the larger public golf course down the road. It was near the end of the golf course that they turned to head back to the house and Owen reached out and took her hand. Sylvia didn’t tug it away. Owen started telling her about being in jail – the lack of privacy, the stench of some of the other inmates, and the drunken priest that made his way from cell to cell by hanging onto the bars, incompetently giving solace. Sylvia let him talk. They reached the house and Owen became quiet again but she didn’t get a chance to talk to him about Anna or her suspicions about Ed. They rounded the corner to the deck. Their parents and Marian were sitting, drinking and talking and turned benign smiles on them. Sylvia could see it in their eyes; they were planning their future. She almost tugged her hand from Owen’s just to rebel.

  “Did you have a nice walk?” Marian asked.

  They both nodded.

  “Syl,” her mother said, “why don’t you get the burgers and hotdogs and we’ll get the grill going,” she said.

  Owen walked in with her to get a beer. He pinned her to the refrigerator with a long promising kiss.

  Sylvia pulled away a little breathless. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked him.

  Owen laughed a little bitter laugh. “I’m not sure I know what is or what is not a good idea,” he said. “Life certainly has thrown me a curve,” he said with a hard note in his voice. He raked back his forelock of curls with his hand before he changed the subject. “You wanted to tell me something,” he said to her huskily.

  “Later,” Sylvia said, shaking her head. “I’m not sure if it makes sense,” she told him and glanced over to the doorway to see if anyone was about.

  He kissed her again and let her go. It was all she could do not to push away. Flustered she opened the refrigerator and pulled out the meats and some of the condiments. She handed things to Owen who had pulled out a tray, loaded it and carried it out to the deck. Sylvia pulled out other non-perishable goods and took them to the deck hoping she wasn’t too flushed from Owen’s kisses.

  Phil had lit the grill and was presiding over it with tongs in one hand and a cold beer in the other. Sylvia placed the food on the table as her mother and Anne came over to arrange everything. Sylvia paused at the doorway before she went in to get paper goods and more food. Owen was deep in conversation with Marian who was looking peaceful and lazily fanning herself while sipping her drink. Anne and her Mother were chatting happily and Phil, well, Phil seemed to always live in his own time warp, but he looked contented as he presided over the grill. It all looked so normal. If someone took a snapshot of the barbeque, no one would even begin to imagine Owen was out on bail for a murder charge, and that they were all feeling stretched beyond their limits. She felt as though she was caught in the middle of a soap opera although no one was dressed as glamorous as the actors and actresses on television. She went in to get more food.

  Sylvia felt distracted during the dinner and didn’t contribute too much to the conversation at hand. Instead she continued to watch the boats sailing towards the town park. Several were docked fairly close to the house. There were quite a few parties on board with music and laughter floating over the water. Owen, on the other hand, was almost animated and kept up conversation with her mother, Marian and his parents. They were laughing and talking. Marian tilted her head and looked at her with a concerned look and Sylvia gave her a wan smile. The sun started to dip as they finished their meal. Sylvia offered to clear and clean up. She wasn’t feeling conversational. Owen followed her in.

  “Are you okay?” he asked her when they finished putting the leftovers in the refrigerator and started to load the dishwasher.

  “Yes,” Sylvia answered.

  “But, something’s not right,” Owen pressed.

  “I can’t explain it, Owen,” she said. “I guess I’m still feeling wary about what you had said to me – is it or isn’t it a good idea to get into a relationship right now. What really happened to Anna? Who killed her? Who or what made those horrible marks?” Sylvia said with vehemence as she slammed the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.

  He took her in his arms and held her and she broke down with tears of frustration. He held her for a few minutes until the tears nearly stopped and she went to get something to wipe her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “No need,” he said leaning against the counter top with his arms crossed.

  “I’m sorry I pushed you away,” he started to say.

  “But, you were right!” Sylvia burst out interrupting. “The police asked me in different ways what sort of relationship I have with you. Headly was there too. He kept leering at me. It was horrible!”

  “Well,” Owen said, “I don’t give a damn about a lot right now. If I learned anything while being in the jail I learned that life is too short to not go after what you want.” He looked at her meaningfully, and Sylvia held his gaze. “I have an idea,” he said.

  “What’s that?” Sylvia asked.

  “I’ve wanted to hike to the light house for a long time,” he told her. “and be there as early as possible. Do you want to go tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” she said,

  “Good!” Owen said. “We can have coffee and watch the sun rise over the water. Sound good?”

  Sylvia nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment. Marian breezed into the kitchen.

  “Hello, you two,” she said. “I’ve come to get the dessert.” She went to the refrigerator to pull out a gorgeous cake with blueberries and strawberries to represent the stars and stripes of the U.S. flag.

  They followed Marian out onto the deck. Darkness had settled in and the anchored boats lit up the bay.

  “Just in time,” her mother said. “The band has been playing patriotic music for a while. I think they’re going to start the fireworks soon.”

  Sylvia and Owen took their cake and iced tea down to the beach. They sat on the grassy edge to the beach as the first pop-pop-pop of fireworks filled the air. Owen lay back and pulled Sylvia down beside him. He put his arm around her as they lay in the grass watching the fireworks. It was a gloriously clear night and the fireworks were brilliant against the blue-black velvet of the sky. Oohs and ahhs from the town and the boats carried over the water. Sylvia’s breath caught in her throat as the colors burst radiantly before her eyes. Her favorites were the white fireworks that burst twice in the air with a rain of snowflake-like brilliance. The fireworks display ended in an orgy of sound and light. The boaters whooped and blew their air horns. Sylvia and Owen sat quietly for a minute before heading back up to the deck holding hands. Behind them the exodus of lighted boats went down the mouth of the bay and toward deep
er water and their nightly slips.

  Marian yawned deeply and said she would like to get home at a decent hour.

  “I can’t imagine why I’m so tired,” she said shaking her head.

  “That’s easy,” Mary laughed, “the heat and the stress of the last week or two.”

  Anne nodded in agreement, looking at Marian with concerned eyes.

  “I suppose so,” Marian said and she looked at them. “Stop looking at me that way Anne,” Marian scolded. “I’m not going to fall down dead,” she admonished.

  Anne put her arm around Marian and laughed. “That’s the last thought on my mind,” she said. “I know you can take care of yourself well,” she continued, “and us too.”

  Sylvia turned to Owen and asked, “what time tomorrow morning?

  “It would be nice if I could pick you up at about 5:30,” he told her.

  “In the morning?” she asked incredulously. She gulped.

  The rest of the group looked at Owen and Sylvia in surprise, wondering what they were talking about. He explained how he wanted to go out to the lighthouse at first light.

  Anne sighed, “It’s been years and years since we’ve done that,” she said.

  “Well, I wanted to share it with Sylvia,” he said.

  “Of course,” Marian said matter of factly, “then it is definitely our time to say ‘adieu.”

  Owen gave Sylvia a one armed hug and a kiss on the top of the head. They called their good nights and went off in their car. Sylvia waved them off, said good night to her mom and went up to the bedroom to set the alarm as well as a backup one. Wearily, she came back downstairs to yawningly say goodnight to her mother and went back up to sleep.

  Chapter 25

  The bliss of growth, the splendour of beauty,

  Fore yesterday is but a dream and tomorrow is only a vision,

  But today well spend makes yesterday a dream of happiness

  And every tomorrow a vision of hope.

  Look well therefore to this day.

  Such is the salutation to the dawn.

  --Sanskrit Salutation to the Dawn

  The alarm sputtered loudly at Sylvia the next morning. She turned it off and looked at the clock that read four a.m. Groggily she hit the sleep button and woke up at five a.m. in a panic. Running to jump into the shower she hurriedly dressed in the khakis Owen insisted she wear, due to ticks, and a light colored t-shirt. She went down to the kitchen to make coffee and sip it until he arrived promptly at 5:30.

  He knocked lightly on the kitchen door and she ran to open it.

  “Good morning,” he said. “Are you ready?”

  “I guess so,” she said, “but I haven’t had much coffee, so I may be grumpy,” she said grimly.

  Owen smiled, “I have a whole thermos of coffee for us when we reach the light,” he told her.

  “Terrific!” she said, and scrawled a note to her mother and locked the door behind her.

  Sylvia was just starting to see the sky lighten ever so slightly on her left as they drove to the end of the peninsula. Owen was telling her about a second hike that was at least eight miles from the ranger station to the light that he would like to do some time.

  “Not today, I hope,” Sylvia asked with a note of panic in her voice.

  Owen laughed. “When the weather’s a bit cooler,” he told her.

  Sylvia sighed with relief. She looked out into the darkness. The road was up and down and almost swallowed by the canopy of trees that arched high and dark above them. They came to the end of the peninsula and to the miniscule parking lot. No one else was around.

  “Here we are,” Owen said cheerfully. He helped Sylvia out of the car and went to get a backpack. He smiled at her questioning look.

  “Treats,” he said, “For when we reach the light.”

  Sunrise was just beginning but, they still needed the large flashlights that Owen had brought to see the path under the canopy of leaves. Sylvia stumbled over a couple of tree roots, glad that the sky was lightening every minute. The birds chattered in the trees with morning conversation. As they came through the trees and into a field, Sylvia drew in a breath. Three young deer were startled by their appearance and took off through the trees at the other end of the meadow. Owen led her to the edge of the field, through some more trees and they were there, at the bluff with the lighthouse. The sun was just rising in a glowing orb of orange to the east and lighting up the blue gray of the canal below them. A couple of seagulls wheeled in the sky and some hawks soared over the meadow they had just walked through looking for their breakfast. They both stopped a moment before walking towards the lighthouse and setting down the backpack.

  Owen had brought a blanket and pulled it out from the backpack and spread it on the bluff. The breeze that was ever constant on that jut of land felt good after their hike. Sylvia pushed the sweat soaked hair up off her neck and sat down on the blanket. Owen stood next to her at the edge of the blanket. They faced the sunrise.

  “Remember in the movie “City of Angels”,” he said, “when the angels faced the sun to hear its music?” he asked Sylvia.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “I remember.”

  “This reminds me of those angels standing on the beach,” he said as they watched the sun rise higher and higher, sending a golden glow over them in the early morning light.

  After a few minutes, Owen joined her and sat down. He pulled out two thermoses of coffee. Opening one he looked inside, made a face at its contents, and poured and handed her a cup of coffee with cream.

  “Thanks,” said Sylvia.

  He reached into the backpack again and pulled out some fruit and some muffins that were most likely made by Marian, before he poured himself a cup of black coffee.

  “You’ve thought of everything,” Sylvia told him, more than a little surprised.

  “I tried,” he remarked, “but these muffins are leftovers from yesterday.”

  “You mean you didn’t make Marian get up this morning and bake for us?” she teased him.

  “She probably would have, if I asked,” Owen said.

  Sylvia nodded, sipping her coffee. She looked out over the water to see a tugboat pushing a barge slowly down the river and nibbled at a muffin.

  He lay down next to her and propped himself up on one elbow and looked up at her.

  “How are you doing?” he asked her.

  “Okay, I guess,” she answered. “Tired right now,” she admitted. “I know Marian is an early riser, and I am too, but we got up in the middle of the night!”

  “Why don’t you lay down here,” he suggested, patting the blanket.

  Sylvia drained her coffee and lay down beside Owen. They both lay quite still for a few minutes and then Sylvia turned so that they fit together like spoons. Owen put an arm around her and drew her to him tight. It was extraordinarily comfortable even though parts of her body were tingling wildly; her sleepiness overcame the sexual tension. She was warm and comfortable, feeling Owens deep breaths. He was kissing her hair gently. But, in moments, she was falling asleep nestled in his arms.

  She didn’t know how much time had passed when she awoke, but the sun was much higher in the sky and her face was hot. Owen was still sound asleep next to her as Sylvia woke up and got her bearings. She had not brought a watch with her, but noticed there were other people nearby. A child stared at them, but most were looking at the lighthouse and at the view over the bluff. She shook Owen’s arm gently.

  “Owen,” she whispered.

  He turned and made a grunt, reaching for her.

  “Owen,” she whispered more insistently, shaking him harder, “You need to wake up!”

  She poured him a cup of coffee and shook his shoulder again. Finally he opened one eye and when he saw her he sat up so fast he nearly knocked the coffee from her hand.

  “Whoa!” she exclaimed.

  “What time is it?” he asked her looking into her eyes.

  Sylvia shrugged, “I have no idea,” she said and showed h
im her bare wrist.

  He pushed the hair out of his eyes as he sat up, took a long draw on the coffee and then glanced at his watch, a was a little taken aback. “It’s after 10,” he told her.

  “What?” Sylvia said incredulously. “But, it only seemed like minutes ago when we fell asleep. We both must have been really tired.”

  “Y-e-s,” Owen said slowly, “and it was incredibly good to be sleeping and holding you,” he said.

  Sylvia blushed before she looked away and changed the subject. “We should be getting back,” she said. “They’ll be wondering where we are.”

  “I think we’re fine,” he told her, but he packed up the backpack and led her over to the lighthouse where they read the historical markers.

  “They’re trying to raise funds to rebuild the keeper’s house,” he told her.

  “Really,” Sylvia said. “That’s terrific. Can you imagine living this far out from town with no car or way to get through easily? That road leading down to here is a nightmare. I can’t imagine it being dirt and navigating it by horse and buggy.”

  “Well, I expect most of the supplies came by boat,” Owen pointed out.

  “You’re right,” Sylvia said, “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Are you still hungry?” Owen asked.

  “Starving!” Sylvia exclaimed.

  “Let’s hike back and go out for brunch in town,” he said. “The Lighthouse Diner has great pancakes,” he told her.

  “With sausage?” she asked.

  “The best,” he replied.

  They hiked back toward the car. More people were heading out to the point and they greeted Owen and Sylvia cheerfully as they walked past. Her insect and sun repellant had long worn off and she slapped at stray mosquitoes that kept hovering near her sweaty body. They didn’t really talk and Sylvia kept noticing the lush greenness overhead and the change from the vibrant and light spring green to the deep, verdant summer green. The cacophony from the birds had changed to a buzz of insects. Underneath she felt the hum of the forest. It wasn’t something she could hear directly, but she could feel the happiness of the trees and life around her. It was a connectedness that she could feel of everything in the forest. It was a tangible nice feeling that made her smile. This was a good place. She glanced up at Owen. He was oblivious to what she was feeling, but he did wear a smile on his face. They sort of burst upon the small parking lot that led to the lighthouse and found it packed with cars. Owen had to maneuver carefully not to hit anyone as he backed and twisted and turned to get his little compact out of its space. They drove towards town in silence. Part way up the road, Owen took Sylvia’s hand and just held—not clutching, nor holding tightly, but just—holding. She held on too.