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

by Sharon Brubaker

  “You’ll have to hold down the fort on your own,” he told Sylvia.

  “It’s okay,” Sylvia said. “There’s not a lot going on anyway, is there?” she asked.

  “Not really,” he said. “I just hope no one gets wind of the vandalism this morning.”

  Sylvia had forgotten all about it and shrugged. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. Don’t you worry.”

  “I won’t,” he said, “And still be wary of Headley,” he advised.

  He started to look fatigued from their conversation.

  “Don’t worry!” she told him. “I’ll stop back tomorrow,” Sylvia said, “to make sure you’re not giving the nurses any trouble.”

  “Where do you want to go for dinner?” Owen asked her when they left the hospital.

  “I don’t care,” she said.

  “Okay,” he said, “then it’s up to me.” He drove her to a small café near the state university. It was usually a college student hangout, but with summer session going on, fewer people frequented it. They had good beer and excellent sandwiches. It was dark, cozy and cool. Sylvia relaxed.

  “I can’t imagine why I’m so tired,” she told Owen.

  He laughed sardonically. “Come on Syl,” he said. “Look at the last twenty four hours. Eat up and I’ll take you home and tuck you in bed.” He pushed her plate a little closer to her.

  “Promise?” she said.

  “Promise,” he told her.

  Sylvia couldn’t finish her sandwich and took most of it home in a ‘to go’ container. They walked out to the car.

  “I’m driving,” Owen insisted. “You are way too tired.”

  Sylvia didn’t argue. She answered by yawning deeply, practically staggering and apologizing to Owen. Owen opened the door and she crawled into her seat. About half way home she dozed off. When they got home Owen pulled her gently from the car and took her upstairs.

  “Come on, Syl,” he said. “Help me out here.”

  He helped her take off most of her clothes, tucked her in and she heard him go downstairs. After that, she didn’t hear another thing until morning. She woke up with Owen standing over her with a steaming cup of café au lait.

  “Slide over,” he said.

  Sylvia wiped the sleep from her eyes and moved over. He handed her the coffee and she sipped it with tiny sips.

  “Too hot?” he asked.

  She nodded and put it on the bedside table to cool.

  He was dressed, but crawled under the sheet beside her and held her. With her head on his chest she listened to his heartbeat and her breathing, which was slowing and rising and falling with his heartbeat. Owen stroked her arm with light fingers. She turned to kiss him and began to stroke him gently.

  She felt so relaxed when she woke up a couple of hours later. Her coffee was cold and she made a face when she took a sip. Sylvia stretched luxuriously and went downstairs to make a fresh pot of coffee. Owen came down a few minutes later and held her in his arms lightly while the coffee perked. They took fresh cups out to the deck. The humid air had moved through and it was warm, but dry and crystal clear. Sylvia smiled and was deeply content sipping her coffee and staring at the water.

  “What are your plans for today?” she asked him eventually.

  “Nothing special,” he said. “Unfortunately it will be that way until we get everything resolved.”

  “I was so sure it was Ed,” she said emphatically. “Just a feeling I had.”

  “Hmm,” Owen said. “We still need to check out that muck.”

  “I know,” Sylvia said. “I thought I could get some tomorrow night after work. What do you want me to collect it in.”

  “Oh, any sterilized jar will do,” Owen told her. “I won’t need a lot to make some tests,” he said.

  Sylvia nodded. “All right,” she said.

  The day passed far too quickly. They lazed around for most of the day. Sylvia dropped Owen off at Marian’s and went in to visit with Mr. Carter, but he was off having some tests completed. He had left the keys to his car and a note asking her to pick it up from the park and move it to a safer location. Sylvia and Owen parked it in her driveway.

  When Monday rolled around Sylvia found herself answering question after question about Mr. Carter to people who stopped by the office. It seemed like a never -ending stream. She emailed Carol a complaint as she pasted a smile on her face and explained for the millionth time about Mr. Carter and his heart attack. Actually he was doing well. She had spoken to him. He was out of coronary care and the angioplasty and ensuing catheterization had gone extremely well. They had reduced the blockages and put in shunts. With medication, change in diet and some rehabilitation he was going to be just fine. Sylvia offered to drive him home when he was released. He laughed and said he hoped to drive himself home, but thanked her all the same.

  Chapter 29

  “Courage isn’t having the strength to go on—it is going on when you don’t have the strength.” --Napoleon Bonaparte

  It was just before lunch when Headley came in. He sat on her desk and reached out and chucked her under the chin.

  “You’re cute, you know that?” he said to her. “Miss All-America, “A” apple pie. You are the all American sweetheart.”

  She tried not to recoil but to look him in the eye. “Really,” she said coolly. “I have never thought myself as that.”

  “Oh, honey, you are,” he said. “But, I won’t hold that against you.”

  Sylvia wanted to punch him, instead she asked, “What do you want?”

  “Just checking to see how Carter is doing and ask you out to dinner,” he said raking his eyes over her.

  Sylvia tried not to squirm in her seat. She felt like the fly that was about to be eaten by the spider.

  “Mr. Carter is fine,” she said. “He hopes to be out of the hospital tomorrow. As for dinner, I’m afraid I’m busy tonight.”

  “No need to be afraid,” Headley said softly. “That comes later.” She barely heard the last part and wondered if she had imagined it.

  She cleared her throat. “How did things go with Natalie and Jim?” she asked. “Are there offers to buy the division?”

  “Things went just fine with Natalie,” he said, putting the emphasis on the word fine. “She was a lovely dalliance, but now I can turn my attentions to home matters.”

  “How can you do this?” Sylvia said, finally losing her cool. “What about Anna? What about Natalie? Are they just people to be played with?”

  Headley was unfazed. He sighed and said, “Anna. I do miss her. But we were adults and we played with each other as adults,” he said. “Natalie, as I said, was a dalliance, and like I said, and she was,” he hesitated, “…a business proposition. You, on the other hand, are a piece of sweet, ripe fruit ready for the picking,” he told her looking as though he wanted to eat her up like a gooey dessert.

  Sylvia sat stunned and disgusted. Of all the women in the company, why her? Before she could think of a snappy answer he was gone. Moments later Carol came to the door asking if she wanted to go for lunch, but stopped mid-sentence when she turned around the corner of the door and saw Sylvia’s face.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked concerned. “It’s not Mr. Carter, is it?” she asked.

  “No,” Sylvia said bitterly, “guess again.”

  “Headley?” she said astounded. “Is he after you again?”

  Sylvia nodded her head. She wanted to cry and scream and hit something at the same time.

  “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised,” she said. “C’mon, let’s go and get some lunch.”

  Sylvia wasn’t hungry, but Carol kept pushing food at her. Finally she ate a few bites and took a soda and candy bar back to the office. At four o’clock she locked up the office, put her purse in the car and took out a couple of bottles and went towards the woods where the muck lay. She also had brought along some plastic gloves and snapped them on after she teetered across the stream and headed into the woods. It was silent as before. T
he phrase ‘silent as a grave’ kept popping into her head. “Stop it!” she scolded herself. “You’re perfectly safe.” She kept saying it to herself like a mantra. She scooped up some muck into the jars and took the plastic gloves off and put them in a plastic bag that she had brought along.

  “Hello there,” a voice said behind her.

  Sylvia whirled around, her heart beating wildly. It was Headley.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Jesus! You scared me!”

  “Au contraire,” Headley said, “I’m the one who should be asking what are you doing here? You are my employee, you know. You are on the edge of trespassing since it’s technically after your work hours.”

  Sylvia stood silently, not wanting him to know his bullying was frightening her.

  “What have we here?” he asked, pulling at the plastic bag that held the gloves. One of the bottles was still clutched in her hand.

  “What is this?” he asked silkily, “Collecting samples for your boyfriend? What difference will it make, he’s going to fry for Anna’s murder.”

  “He’s innocent!” Sylvia cried.

  “Really,” Headley said in a lazy sort of voice that was more frightening than his threats. “That could change,” he chuckled. “Evidence could be found, if you’re not nice to me.”

  Sylvia was startled. What kind of game was he playing at? She was almost afraid to ask, “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I want,” he said huskily. He pinned her to a tree with his hands locked on her breasts. “Feel this,” he said, pushing his pelvis into hers.

  “Let…me...go!” she said loudly, nearly screaming.

  “Not on your life,” Headley chuckled. “I’m going to make Miss “A” Apple Pie into my little sex slave. You’ll love it,” he said, nearly drooling and pushing her harder into the tree.

  “You’re nuts!” Sylvia cried.

  “Maybe,” he said, “or maybe just a nymphomaniac,” and he laughed a dangerous sounding laugh.

  His hands were under her shirt now and he was trying to pull her bra off. One strap snapped painfully. She tried to struggle, but he pushed her against the tree harder. She thought she was going to throw up. Sylvia couldn’t breathe. She pushed again but he was too strong and pinned her against the tree ripping away at her shirt.

  “Good, I like it when you struggle. This is going to be fun.” he breathed heavily on her and stifled her scream with a horrible kiss. She screamed inside, the horror of the moment bursting in her brain. He unzipped his pants and then reached up her skirt to pull down her panties when there was a flash of brilliant green and white light. The next thing she knew she was in the arms of the Green Man and she was sobbing. Golden sunlight filtered through the green leaves of the trees. It felt like a golden blanket yet, Sylvia couldn’t stop shaking.

  He held on to her tightly. “It’s okay,” he kept murmuring. “You’re all right.”

  She was still shaky. Her lips were bruised and her bra strap broken, her shirt torn and skirt muddied. He kept holding her and talking to her like a mother to a child who had had a nightmare. It had been a nightmare. It seemed surreal.

  “Where’s Headley?” she asked shakily.

  “Don’t worry,” the Green Man said, “and don’t ask questions.”

  “How did you know I needed help?” Sylvia looked at him wonderingly.

  “You called,” he said simply, “and I came.”

  She digested this for a few moments and didn’t ask any more questions. It felt good just to sit near him and feel the pulsing of the earth. Her breathing started to calm down moment by moment.

  “Can you drive?” he asked.

  “In a few minutes,” she said.

  “Good,” he said. “Go home.”

  Sylvia wasn’t sure how she made it to the car or made it home, she just did. She drove automatically. She couldn’t remember if the Green Man was beside her or not. When she got home she slumped over and put her head against the steering wheel accidentally beeping the horn. Owen came running out.

  “Syl,” he cried. “What’s wrong? What happened? Were you in an accident?”

  She couldn’t answer him. He helped her out of the car and held her in his arms. She started sobbing again. “H-h-headley,” she blurted out after a couple of tries. It was Headley.”

  “Bastard!” Owen cried. “I’m calling the cops. This needs to be reported,” he said grimly.

  Sylvia didn’t answer. They waited until the police arrived and she gave a report. They kept asking her where Headley was now, but she didn’t have an answer.

  “I think I fainted,” she told them. “He went away. I don’t know where,” she said dully. Owen had also called Marian who came right over. She made Sylvia a cup of strong, sweet tea.

  “Drink this, child,” she said. “It’ll help a little.”

  Sylvia took a couple sips and retched. “I’m so cold,” she said to Owen and Marian, her teeth chattering away.

  Owen ran to get a blanket and put it around her shoulders. The policeman looked at her sympathetically and said he only had a few more questions. He asked if she needed to go to the hospital and he asked all kinds of embarrassing questions.

  “Will you be done soon?” Owen asked the policeman.

  “For now,” he said. “Get some rest.”

  Owen led Sylvia up to bed and helped her into her nightgown while Marian showed the police the way out. Just before she dropped off to sleep, Sylvia remembered the bottles full of muck. They were in the car and she told Owen where to find them.

  “Go to sleep,” he said, kissing her hair, just above the ear. “Go to sleep.”

  And go to sleep she did.

  Chapter 30

  “Wait until it is night before saying it is a fine day.”

  French Proverb

  Sylvia didn’t wake up until almost noon and shot out of bed and down the stairs.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Owen said when he heard her clattering down the steps. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Didn’t you see the time?” she cried, “I’m really late for work!”

  “You’re not late, you’re not going in today,” Owen told her simply.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Sit down,” Owen said. He made coffee and brought her a steaming cup. She sat at the kitchen table and looked perplexed. After she had taken a few sips, Owen started talking.

  “They picked up Headley,” he said, “and charged him with sexual assault. I understand when they searched his apartment they found some drugs and paraphernalia.”

  “How did you find this out?” she asked disbelieving.

  “Jon,” Owen said, “Jon called and told me and said he would represent you when the trial came. It won’t be for awhile,” he said gently. “Yeah,” he went on, “apparently the cops thought Headley was really high on something when they picked him up. He was incoherent and muttering about flashing green lights and a giant green man. Pretty weird to see the Jolly Green Giant, eh?”

  Sylvia nearly choked on her coffee. She remained silent.

  Owen patted her on her back to stop her coughing and refilled her coffee cup.

  “Go up and get a shower,” he said, “I’ll fix you breakfast and then we can go to State to look at these samples.”

  Sylvia didn’t argue. She spent a long time in the shower scrubbing off any vestige of Headley. Now she was angry and she was glad he was caught. What a bastard!

  She pulled on khakis and a t-shirt and padded downstairs in her bare feet. Owen was just finished scrambling eggs and was busily buttering toast.

  “Thanks,” Sylvia told him, “Do you hire out?” she asked teasingly.

  “Only for you babe,” he told her and she smiled at his response.

  While she ate, Owen talked about the possibilities in the muck. He suspected a micro-organism, but didn’t know what kind.

  Owen drove Sylvia to the State University. He seemed to know the campus well and pulled into an available p
arking space and fed the meter. Grabbing the bottles he motioned for Sylvia to follow him. They went into the Science Center and Owen pulled a card from his jeans pocket and looked for a directory. Finding what he wanted they went to the second floor. The smell of chemicals and formaldehyde was strong. Most of the offices and classroom doors were closed. Owen walked down the hallway reading names and numbers. At an open door he stopped and began to talk. Sylvia caught up to him. Sitting in a very messy office was a red bearded man with bright blue eyes. Owen introduced her and she learned this was the acquaintance Marian had mentioned, Dr. Bill Gutzman. He was wearing a faded “Save the Bay” t-shirt. Posters and environmental bumper stickers decorated the walls of his office. One of the small glass enclosed ecosystems was on a shelf at eye level. He and Owen talked for a few minutes in with scientific detail that confounded Sylvia. It was like another language. Finally Bill stood up and led them to a lab where Owen could work. Bill unlocked a door from a large ring of keys and let them in.

  Sylvia looked around. It smelled like a science lab. Owen took a deep breath and sighed with contentment. He was in his element. He took the samples and prepared some slides. He looked at the slides for a few minutes and then moved them from one microscope to another. He was muttering, but Sylvia couldn’t make out what he was saying. He went over to a computer and turned it on and logged onto the Internet. He logged onto a site and then went back to the microscope. He kept pushing back his hair in the familiar gesture. Sylvia knew he was frustrated, but didn’t want to interrupt. He finally looked up and remembered she was there.

  “This is so strange,” he said. “I can’t figure it out.”

  “What is?” Sylvia asked.

  “Well,” Owen said, “It’s hard to explain, because it’s not making sense. Would you go down the hall and ask Bill if he could come up to take a look at something please?”

  “Sure,” Sylvia said.

  She went down and delivered the message. Bill followed her to the lab and he and Owen an intense discussion. Bill looked into the microscope and became very excited. They went over to the computer again and accessed a couple of different sites. Bill pointed out some examples on the Internet. They both checked the computer screen and then went back to the microscope. Bill moved the slide to another microscope attached to the computer. Owen turned to explain to her that they would show the micro-organisms on the screen and be able to save them to a file as well as print out the image. Bill got a couple of shots and printed out some pictures of the slides. He and Owen took the copies and marked up some of the pictures with circles and arrows.