“Your admitting your lack of trust in me is to make me feel better?” she asked incredulously. “You never even gave me a chance to explain. You didn’t believe me and you didn’t bother to even try to explain until very recently,” she accused. “You left me hanging for weeks and weeks!”
Owen closed his eyes. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know and I am incredibly sorry.”
“Owen,” Sylvia began, “I don’t know how we can make this better, at this point. I honestly don’t know if I want to be with someone who respects me so little,” she told him. “I don’t know what I would want you to do to change my mind. I’m still hurting – a lot,” she finished.
Owen was silent. Finally she saw that he swallowed hard and nodded. “I had to try,” he said. “As these weeks went by, I could not get you out of my mind. I began to realize how much I loved you,” he told her.
Sylvia thawed, but only a tiny bit. Her anger and hurt had built up since their break up Sylvia wished she had not suggested a public place to meet. She wanted to rant and scream and throw things at Owen. She worked to get her emotions under control.
“Let me ask you this,” she said evenly to him. “What is your idea for making this all better?” she asked.
He looked stunned for a moment. “I want to get things back to where they were,” he told him.
“How?” she asked.
“By moving back in, being part of your life, and living our lives together,” he told her.
Sylvia sat quietly for a moment. Her mother’s warning of ‘they won’t buy the cow if they already have the cream’ phrase kept running through her mind.
She felt a bit selfish, but she needed to ask, “What’s in it for me?” she said. “I mean, I’m not trying to sound callous, but you had the gravy train, a free place to live, free sex, a person that loved you…” she trailed off.
Owen had the grace to flush. “I love you,” he told her again.
“Is that to be a proposal?” she asked him, knowing the answer before he gave it.
“N-n-n-no,” he stammered.
Sylvia almost laughed a bitter laugh, but it came out as a chuckle. “Owen, what is that supposed to mean?” she started to ask and then stopped, “I don’t know how to make things better. I do know, that having you come back, without remorse or explanation or commitment, definitely will not work for me,” she told him.
Sylvia fumbled in her purse. Finally she pulled out twenty dollars and put it on the table.
“I have to go,” she said.
She took her coat, nodded to the seating hostess, held her head high and walked out the door. Percy whined when she opened the car door.
“S-s-sorry, Percy,” she told him in a shaky voice. “Can you wait until we get home to walk?” Her shaky voice turned into a sob, and Sylvia cried all the way home.
Chapter 22
The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered. We know that. And yes, there are certainly times when we aren't able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It's called being human.
Elizabeth Edwards
Percy kept his head on the center console on the entire drive home. As she walked him she received a text. It was not from Owen and she began to cry afresh. It was from Joe, reminding her he would pick her up at 5:30 the next evening. She texted him back.
In the morning, Sylvia sighed as she rummaged through her bureau for comfortable sweats and her favorite sweater of Gran’s, “I’m such an unholy mess of a girl,” she told the dog quoting from “The Philadelphia Story.” Her face felt sticky and swollen from crying.
Sylvia splashed water on her face until she felt more awake and gulped down her coffee. Percy was restless.
“I guess I can’t sleep in anymore, can I?” she asked the dog.
He whined softly in reply, going over to the door, then coming back to circle in front of her before sitting to look pleadingly into her eyes.
“All right,” she said. “I’m getting my coat.”
Percy gave a happy bark and sat impatiently by the door. Sylvia took Percy on a long walk. There was a slight thaw again and the remaining snow was soft and slushy. She skirted Percy around the large puddles and small snowdrifts as she maneuvered through the wintry landscape.
Tony’s house was still quiet and still. There wasn’t a ghost of movement and no sign of a car entering or leaving the driveway. Sylvia knew that it wasn’t a good idea to be in a relationship with Tony, but she felt a bit jilted by him. What was it he had told her, her ‘come hither eyes were dangerous?’ To top it off, he sent those roses on Valentine’s Day. How confusing was that after no phone call, text or email?
“Humpf,” she snorted. “Come hither? That was a laugh,” she told Percy. “They’ve all forgotten how to communicate,” she said bitterly.
Percy glanced up at her and kept walking. Percy, she was amazed, didn’t even look twice at his old residence. He happily trotted by her side.
It was a sparkly wintry day and they both enjoyed the walk. Sylvia walked Percy up to a tall bluff at the end of the neighborhood. The expanse over the bay was breathtaking. She could see the tidal flow where the ice had broken through. A hawk or turkey buzzard soared overhead. She loved the peaceful beauty of winter on the bay. The colors of water, sky and landscape were a muted palette of creams, salmons, dusky blues and grays. It struck Sylvia how different it was from the summer months and its hive of activity with boats, water skiers and personal watercraft zipping noisily from dawn until after dusk.
Sylvia and Percy warmed up at home. She puttered and cleaned before settling on the couch, with a good book and a mug of tea in the early afternoon. Her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello,” she answered.
“Sylvia?” came a slightly familiar voice. “This is Amber, Carol’s Mom. How are you, Sugar?”
“I’m good,” Sylvia told her, surprised that Amber was calling her. “How are you?” she returned.
Amber gave a sneeze. “Excuse me,” she said. “I think I’m catching a cold. I saw a notice at State that there is going to be a talk on dowsing. Actually it’s on dowsing and ley lines on Tuesday evening. Are you interested? It’s part of a ‘Spirit and Science’ lecture series. Are you interested in going?”
“Sure,” Sylvia told her. “I guess so.”
“Good,” Amber said and sneezed again. “It’s at seven in the lecture hall of the Science building. Do you know where that is?”
“Actually,” Sylvia replied, “I do.” She thought of when she visited the building’s lab where Owen’s friend Bill worked. He had helped when they were solving the mystery of the organism the previous year and he had kindly let them use a lab.
“Carol doesn’t want to go to the lecture, but she said she would go out to dinner with us beforehand. Is that all right?” Amber asked.
“Absolutely,” Sylvia said. She could imagine Carol’s response to her Mom’s request to go to the lecture.
“Good,” Amber said. “You and Carol decide on where to eat and let me know, okay? Carol knows a lot of the places around the college.”
“Okay,” Sylvia said. “Is Carol around?”
“No, Sugar,” Amber said, sneezing again, “she went to the store to pick up some cold medicine for me. Why don’t you call her cell?”
“I’ll text her,” Sylvia told Amber.
Amber heard the somber note in Sylvia’s voice.
“Are you all right, Sylvia?” she asked.
“I’m okay,” she told Amber. “Feel better.”
“Thanks, Sugar,” Amber told her and sneezed again before hanging up.
Sylvia sat again, lost in the winter’s pale beauty. Eventually, Percy barked again and woke her as if from a trance.
“Oh, Percy!” Sylvia said. “Where did the time go?”
Sylvia glanced at the clock and then hurried to walk Percy before getting ready to go out with Joe. He told her casual for dinner and blue grass, so Sylvia put on jeans and defiantl
y chose the garnet sweater Owen had given her for Christmas. The doorbell rang. Joe was prompt.
Sylvia liked how quickly she could be at ease with Joe. They sat in the local crab house cracking peanuts and throwing the shells down on the brown paper that covered the table. The restaurant was full, but not to bursting. It was still early.
“You know this restaurant saved the town, didn’t you?” Joe asked.
“How?” Sylvia was curious.
“Before the crab house and the rehab of the town, North Bay was turning into a dive,” Joe told her.
“I don’t remember much of that,” Sylvia said. “I do remember there being a lot of empty storefronts for several years.”
“Yeah,” Joe agreed. “But, this crab house and the rehab of the boutique shops and antique stores along Main Street really started pulling the tourists in.”
“I know!” Sylvia commented. “I rarely come into town once boating season begins. But it seems this place is constantly crowded.”
“Word gets around about good food,” Joe said.
There order came. Sylvia found herself laughing at Joe’s stories of when he grew up and some funny incidents as a new detective.
“Any news on Joyce’s murder?” she asked carefully when they were having coffee.
“I’m not supposed to talk about it,” Joe replied, “but, nothing new. She slept with the guy. It looks like he killed her, robbed her and threw her body in the bay on New Year’s Eve. We have some DNA and an APB out on the guy.”
“You have DNA?” Sylvia asked.
“Yeah,” Joe said as he popped a piece of hush puppy in his mouth.
“How?” Sylvia asked.
“Don’t you watch CSI and NCIS?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she told him, “on occasion.”
“Well, not to be too graphic, she had sex and a residue of the DNA was still there,” he told her.
“Oh,” she said realizing the scope of what he said. She shivered. “Ooh,” she said and wrinkled her nose.
“It’s not very pleasant,” he said, “and I definitely won’t go into any more detail while we’re eating.”
“I agree,” Sylvia said, “’Nuff said.”
Changing the subject, Sylvia shared with him that she thought she saw someone skulking in the neighborhood the other night. Joe was instantly alert.
“I’ll make sure we send out regular patrols,” he told her.
“The neighbors are happier,” she told him, “since we had a community meeting. But still, anxiety levels are up. More lights are on at night in the neighborhood and I hope to God people are finally locking their doors.”
Joe nodded and glanced at his watch and signaled the waitress for the check.
“We need to get going,” he said, “to get a decent seat.”
Joe and Sylvia drove the few blocks to the local fire hall. The parking lot was filling up.
“I used to come here for the Santa breakfast,” Sylvia reminisced.
“Me too!” Joe told her. “My uncle was a volunteer fireman for years and years. I practically grew up here. That’s how I got into bluegrass. When I used to come as a kid, they could still smoke in the fire hall. It was a sea of blue smoky fog. I used to think it was really cool when I was little,” he said.
Joe and Sylvia walked down the steps from the foyer into the main area of the fire hall. It had been completely renovated since Sylvia’s visit as a child. Joe paid admission to an elderly couple sitting at a folding table at the bottom of the stairs. They clearly knew Joe. They nodded at Sylvia with a smile. Joe led her to a table near the stage where musicians were setting up. Tables were filling up. Joe asked if she wanted a beer and went to purchase some from the bar at the back of the hall. He returned with two large plastic cups that were cold and foamy. A man in a crisp white shirt, jeans and bolo tie came up to the microphone to welcome the audience. Everyone clapped and a few people whistled. One by one, each musician ‘introduced’ himself by playing a bit on their instrument. Guitar, banjo, fiddle, cello and mandolin music filled the hall. Sylvia was soon tapping her foot. She had told Joe that she knew almost nothing about bluegrass music. He explained that a ‘hot lick’ was a brief solo piece, played by a musician as they gain skills or to showcase their talent. When the group got together they played classic bluegrass “Roll in my Sweet Baby’s Arms” and “Foggy Mountain Breakdown.” When the band took a break a couple of the band members came down and slapped Joe on the back commenting on how good it was to see him. Sylvia smiled and shook hands when introduced and sat back as they talked music. When the break was over, the guys on the stage motioned for Joe to come and join them. Sylvia looked surprised and Joe looked a little sheepish.
“Do you mind?” he asked her.
“No! Of course not!” she cried.
He grinned and made his way up on stage. The boys in the band introduced Joe as the grandson of one of their friends and former band companions. Everyone clapped politely and Joe took the stage wiyh a banjo from one of the guys in the band. He gave a grin to Sylvia and a nod and began to play an instrumental tune. As he played, Sylvia noticed how he concentrated on the music. She wasn’t surprised how his aura pulsed with his joy of playing the music. Her surprise came when she saw his aura grow to be almost an angelic presence behind him. She stared, fascinated. He looked up again and saw her staring at him. He grinned and the shock of hair fell into his eyes. When the set was over, Sylvia clapped loudly. Joe grinned again, said thank you to the band and headed back to the table to sit with Sylvia.
“Wow!” she exclaimed. “You are awesome!”
“Thanks,” Joe replied. His response was a bit shy.
“Where did you learn to play like that?” she asked him.
“From my Granddaddy,” he told her, “And coming to jam sessions all my life.”
“I’ve never known anyone with a talent like you have,” she commented honestly.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he said. “Now, I’m thirsty. Another beer?”
She nodded and he went to get fresh drinks. They thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the concert. Sylvia’s toes were tapping and fingers drumming. Joe gave her background on the players and the music as they listened. The evening flew by. When they returned to Bayside, Sylvia was yawning broadly.
“Let me walk with you and Percy,” Joe told her as she opened the door to an excited dog.
“Terrific!” she replied. To Percy, she said, “Go and get your leash.”
Sylvia went to get a flashlight and Joe hooked the leash to Percy’s collar. They strolled through the neighborhood in the crisp winter air. The stars were brilliant. They crunched on the grass and made their way to the road and to the open grassy space.
“I haven’t seen Tony around lately,” Sylvia remarked as they passed the dark house.
“Nope,” Joe told her. “He had to get back to New Jersey to make funeral arrangements for Mrs. Capaselli.”
Sylvia’s hand flew to her mouth. ” Oh, my God! I never thought…” she broke off embarrassed.
They continued to walk and Joe took her hand. When they reached her porch, Joe pulled on her hand so that she came closer to him. He gave her a long, slow, sweet kiss.
When they broke apart, she told him, “I had a really nice time tonight. Thank you, Joe.”
“My pleasure,” he said. “I had a great time too.”
He declined her suggestion to come inside telling her he had to work in the morning, but he would give her a call when he got off duty. He opened the door for her and gave her Percy’s leash.
“Lock up tight,” he cautioned.
Sylvia nodded and obediently did so. After he heard the lock click, he turned to glancing back when he got into his car to wave at her.
Chapter 23
Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strength.
Charles Spurgeon
When she was walking Percy the next morning, her phone ringing loudly, broke the pe
acefulness of the quiet winter morning. Sylvia looked and it was Carol.
“Well?” she demanded.
“Oh, Carol,” Sylvia laughed at her friend. “Let’s meet for breakfast somewhere.”
“You mean brunch, don’t you?” Carol asked.
“Okay, brunch,” Sylvia returned. “Pancakes in town?”
“Be there in fifteen,” Carol told her.
Percy seemed to enjoy riding and Sylvia invited him to come along. Fortunately there was a parking space in front of the restaurant where she could keep an eye on him when she looked out the window. She saw Carol turn the corner and waved at her. Sylvia waited until Carol parked. Carol gave an obligatory pat on Percy’s head. He returned with a few sniffs and a lick at Carol’s hand.
“You’re right,” she told her friend, “he is a very nice dog.”
Their regular waitress was a largish woman with extremely dark auburn hair and lipstick to match. Sylvia thought she was beautiful and would have been the perfect model for a daVinci painting. She smiled at them and asked, “Coffee?” when they walked in the door. Carol and Sylvia nodded and they sat down at a table by the window. The waitress brought coffees and menus, but the girls waved them away.
“Pancakes,” Carol said definitely. “Pancakes and scrapple for me, she told the waitress and pancakes and sausage for my friend.”
Sylvia nodded in agreement.
“Well?” Carol demanded. “How did things go with Owen?”
“Not so good,” Sylvia admitted.
“How so?” Carol asked.
“He wants everything to be the same,” Sylvia told her, “without any commitments and really without any explanation other than stress for leaving. I don’t know if I can do that Carol.”
“Is marriage what you want?” Carol asked her.
“I really don’t know,” Sylvia admitted. “But, I’m feeling hurt and used. I don’t even know what to tell him!”
“So you still love him?” Carol asked her gently.
Sylvia took a deep breath. “Yes,” she told her. “I think I do. I love him, but I don’t like him at all.” She paused, “at least not right now.”
The Leafing: the 2nd book in The Green Man series Page 18
