The Blossoming: The Third book in The Green Man Series

by Sharon Brubaker

  When they arrived in Bayside, Sylvia saw Anne’s little compact car and Marian’s ancient Volvo wagon parked across the street in the open space in the neighborhood. Sylvia saw Marian industriously planting something by the back door of the house that faced the road. Mary pulled into the driveway and Marian stood up and brushed off her denim capris and came toward the car.

  As soon as she opened the car door, Sylvia could hear Percy barking crazily from inside and Anne’s voice telling him to ‘calm down.’ The side door to the kitchen opened and the large, white, standard poodle flung himself out of the door and catapulted himself towards Sylvia.

  “Percy! Percy!” Sylvia crooned and bent down to hug him.

  He danced his happy, doggy dance where his entire body quivered in happiness to see them. Mary was helping Owen out of the car while Sylvia kept Percy at bay for a moment, but he raced over to Owen. He seemed to sense that Owen was hurting and wiggled and jiggled and sniffed and whined.

  Owen reached a hand toward Percy, who licked it enthusiastically.

  “Hi, Percy,” he said weakly.

  Anne went to her son, tears in her eyes and hugged him carefully. She didn’t say anything, just sighed and held him.

  Owen carefully hugged back, wincing from the pain in his shoulder. “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll be fine,” he assured her.

  Anne nodded, her eyes full of unshed tears when she pulled away from her son.

  “Let’s get you inside,” Mary suggested.

  Sylvia gave Marian a fierce hug. Tears threatened to spill from Sylvia’s eyes. She wiped at her eyes distractedly with the back of her hand. Sylvia looked at the gardening tools in Marian’s hand and at the plants by the door.

  “What are you planting?” Sylvia asked Marian curiously.

  “Rosemary,” Marian state succinctly. “You and Owen have been beleaguered by bad luck. Rosemary is said to be protection. In times of trouble, I say, use anything you can.” She grinned at Sylvia, “and, as you know, it never hurts to call on the Old Gods.”

  Sylvia blushed. Yes, she had called the Green Man often.

  “So, now you have rosemary at the front and the back doors,” she told Sylvia as she pointed towards the front door of the house facing the water and the back door on the road, “for protection.”

  “Thank you,” Sylvia told her and hugged her again. She was feeling in need of some sort of luck after their experience a few days ago.

  They walked to the kitchen door and went inside. Owen was already ensconced on the couch with a pillow and a light blanket. Anne and Mary were setting up lunch items on the dining room table. Sylvia took a minute to give Anne a big hug and then looked at the dining room table. The table was laden with a chicken Caesar pasta salad, rolls, Insalata Caprese and fresh melon.

  Sylvia sat cross-legged on the floor next to Owen. Percy had climbed up on the end of the couch and placed his head on Owen’s leg. Owen was staring out the window at the “True Love.”

  “Our poor boat,” he said sadly. “We’ll have to get her repaired. I’ll have to call the boat yard.”

  “Do you think they can get it repaired before the wedding?” Sylvia asked.

  “Don’t know,” Owen said. “I certainly hope so. She’ll have to go into dry dock for them to fix it.”

  Sylvia nodded. She looked up and saw Anne gesturing her to come and fill up a plate. She got up and filled a plate for Owen and took it back to him.

  “Food!” he breathed, “real food.”

  “Come on,” Sylvia scolded, “the hospital food wasn’t that bad, was it?” she queried.

  He tried to shrug, but stopped, wincing in pain.

  “Owen! Are you okay?” Anne asked, coming into the living room and seeing grimace.

  “Okay, but not too smart,” Owen explained, “Don’t shrug your shoulders after a collapsed lung and a gunshot wound.”

  “It’s a good thing I’m ambidextrous,” he quipped, launching into his food.

  Sylvia agreed. Mary and Anne came in with plates and sat down while Sylvia went to get food for herself. She returned and sat again, cross-legged on the floor next to Owen. Sylvia answered Anne’s questions about their trip between bites. Mary told her of the bed and breakfast in Chestertown and Owen updated Anne on Scotty and his career.

  When they finished lunch, Owen was worn out. Mary brought him his medications and they tiptoed out of the room as he took a nap. Sylvia took her laptop to the deck to catch up on work emails. Anne and Mary cleaned up lunch and went for a walk. It was definitely a hot, July day, but the humidity was down and so was pleasantly warm. Sylvia spent a lot of her time staring at the water, sky and the auras over the trees on the shore. They danced with a bright, white light that leaped and danced in the air. She was so very glad to be home. Sylvia sighed with pleasure. Everything seemed fairly copacetic at work. She was glad she had worked so hard on Bay Days in the last few weeks. She hoped everything would come off without a hitch. Last year’s Bay Days was a complete nightmare with Mr. Carter’s heart attack, the lecher Richard Headley and Ed Davenport’s graffiti about Thurmont. Unsettled at the memories, she looked at the water, trees and sky again to absorb the sense of peace that permeated Bayside.

  She heard Owen cry out in his sleep and she rushed to him. He was still asleep but agitated. She sat next to him on the floor and took his hand gently. She leaned her head against the couch. He stirred a few minutes later and woke up. She looked into his eyes and kissed Owen gently.

  “You were having a nightmare,” she told Owen.

  He nodded slowly. “Not a good time,” he said. “Can you help me up?” he asked her as he squirmed painfully on the couch.

  “Of course,” she said.

  She helped Owen stand up. They held each other as best they could.

  “I love you,” he whispered to her.

  “I love you too,” she answered. She felt tears welling up again but refused to let them spill over. Shakily, he took a breath and held her face up for a kiss. Their lips were about to touch when the kitchen door opened and their moms walked into the house. Owen gave her a quick kiss and turned to face the mom’s.

  “Anne and I are heading out to the grocery store to pick up some steaks,” Mary told them. “We’ll grill and enjoy the sunset.”

  “Sounds good,” Owen said. He yawned and turned to Sylvia, “Can you get my laptop? I should check my email.”

  Sylvia chuckled. “Just what I’ve been doing. Side by side on the deck?”

  He nodded and went out to the deck. The moms left for to the grocery store and Sylvia went to get Owen’s laptop and set it up for him. She logged on and got his email up. He hunted and pecked carefully with his injured arm. Sylvia logged into the cloud network and continued to work.

  “Pretty nice working digs,” Owen commented, looking up from his laptop, at the water and then at Sylvia.

  She was biting her lip in concentration. She nodded. She stopped working and looked up at the water, the sky and at Owen. She smiled at Owen, nodded again and went back to work.

  The afternoon waned and wended its way toward evening. Anne and Mary brought some bruschetta and toasts out to the deck along with a beer for Owen and a glass of wine for Sylvia.

  “Only one for you,” Anne told her son. “You’re on pain meds.”

  Owen made a face and his mother smiled back at him serenely. He knew she was right.

  “Time to close the laptops,” Mary told them.

  “Gladly,” Sylvia said.

  She logged off and shut her laptop down. Sylvia stood and stretched before reaching for Owen’s laptop to take them inside. A few minutes later she rejoined the family on the deck. They had a relaxed evening. Mary and Anne insisted that Sylvia relax and stay with Owen while they prepared dinner. Steaks and corn were grilled. Anne had prepared tomatoes with fresh oregano, feta cheese, and a vinaigrette.

  They talked about little things and watched the sun set over the water. Twilight was beginning to envelop the evening as the sun se
t in a burning line on the opposite shore. Boats chugged their way to their ports. There was a silver streak of water in the center of the bay. Wavelets moving towards the shore were ribbons of silver, blue and black as darkness gathered. Lights on the bows and sterns illuminated boats as they traversed the bay. A mid-week party boat was lit up like Christmas decorations on a house. There was more boat traffic than usual for mid-week. Sylvia knew that Bay Days drew thousands of people into the town of North Bay and the county. In addition to all of the activities planned for Saturday, there was a bass tournament. Bass boats trolled the bay looking for good spots to fish. She couldn’t help but wonder if some were looking for places before the tournament. Apparently the prize monies ran into the thousands of dollars. There was a boat, with only a bow light on, relatively close to their property. It slowed and looked like it stopped. She asked Owen about it.

  “Looks like the light on their stern is out. Remember our light being out? It probably saved us,” Owen told her. “That’s what the police said. If they had known we were there, those goons would have killed us sooner than later.”

  Owen squinted at the boat, “I think it’s headed further out into the bay,” he said. That’s why we can’t see the bow light any longer.”

  “Actually, I think they’re backing up,” Sylvia said, watching the boat as the bow light came back into view. “Weird.”

  The boat seemed to reverse in the water and then moved forward again and headed out into the bay. For some reason, it made Sylvia uneasy. She tried to shake it off and focus on the ribbons of silver, blue and increasing black of the waves hitting the beach. The sound was soothing.

  “Work tomorrow, Syl,” her mother advised, “you should get to bed.”

  “And you too, young man,” Anne told her son in a faux stern voice. “Off to bed with you.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Sylvia and Owen said in chorus.

  “I’ve never known my mom to send me off to bed with a woman,” he whispered in her ear. “It's a shame that I’m injured,” he continued, “But, maybe we could think of something.”

  Sylvia couldn’t help but blush as she imagined creative ways to handle Owen’s injury in bed.

  “But, our moms are here,” she hissed. “We can’t.”

  “We’ll see. I can be very quiet,” Owen told her, “but, can you?” he asked.

  Sylvia blushed even more and they closed the door to the bedroom firmly.

  Chapter 21

  “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.” Vivian Greene

  When Sylvia walked into the office suite at Thurmont, Carol practically flew around her desk and Sylvia found herself swallowed in a bear hug.

  “Oh, Sylvia!” Carol cried, tears spilling down her cheeks. “How are you? How is Owen?”

  Sylvia returned Carol’s hug.

  “I’m okay, Carol,” she assured her friend. “Really.”

  Sylvia gently pulled away from her friend. “Let me put my stuff down and we can talk a few minutes,” Sylvia told her.

  Sylvia opened her office door. The air inside was stale. She wished she had a window she could open. She put her purse in a drawer in her desk and her briefcase on top before she went out to Carol.

  “Sit!” Carol commanded. “Mr. Carter is off today and things are in good shape for Bay Days. We can catch up!”

  Sylvia sat and told Carol all that had happened that weekend, about the sailing, Fells Point, Scotty, the scary trip back, the gunshots and Owen’s injuries. Carol listened intently.

  “Wow. I think you need a lucky rabbit’s foot or something, girlfriend,” Carol joked unintentionally. “Wow.”

  Sylvia gave her friend an infinitesimal glare. “C’mon,” Sylvia said, “really?”

  Carol shrugged.

  “And what about you?” Sylvia asked Carol. “What’s been going on here at Thurmont? How are things with you and Joe? You two seem to be getting hot and heavy.”

  At this comment, Sylvia’s bright friend, usually full of chutzpah, crumpled. Her shoulders slumped and she started crying again. Sylvia was stunned.

  “Carol! What’s wrong? What’s happened? Is it Joe? Is he all right?” Sylvia asked in a rush and it was her turn to envelop her friend in a bear hug.

  Carol was hiccoughing, trying desperately to stop crying. She wriggled from Sylvia’s hug and grabbed a bunch of tissues.

  Taking a deep breath, she told Sylvia, “Joe and I had our first fight,” she wailed, “and I don’t know what to do!”

  “What? You had a fight,” Sylvia paused before she asked, “with Joe? Whatever happened? You two are crazy about each other! Do you want to tell me what the fight was about?”

  Carol took a deep breath, “Joe asked me to move in with him. I…I said no,” she wailed and started to cry.

  “That’s what the fight was about?” Sylvia said.

  “Yea,” Carol said. “I am not sure I’m ready to do that. He took offense. He’s willing to move on to bigger and better things with us and I’m not sure I’m willing to take that step.”

  “I’m surprised, Carol,” Sylvia told her friend. “That’s what you’ve talked and talked about – a great guy, moving in, getting married, the house, the picket fence, the two point five kids…”

  “I know,” Carol told Sylvia, “but, in truth, I’m a chicken.”

  “What does your mom say?” Sylvia asked gently. “Is she part of your reason not to move in with Joe?”

  “Joe thinks so. He said I’m still trying to protect her. I don’t know, maybe I am. Mom says to go. She loves Joe and thinks I’m crazy not to move in with him,” Carol admitted.

  “Do you love him?” Sylvia asked Carol, already knowing the answer.

  “Yes!” Carol moaned. “I can’t imagine life without him.”

  “Go to him,” Sylvia stated, “Tonight! You two need to talk. Trust me, I know!”

  Carol gulped. “I know you’re right, but…” she stopped.

  “No ‘buts,’,” Sylvia told her friend and then slyly said, “and trust me, the make-up sex will be terrific!”

  “Sylvia!” Carol remonstrated, pretending to be shocked.

  The two friends broke into giggles.

  “We really should get some work completed,” Sylvia said.

  “Things are actually pretty well set for Saturday,” Carol told Sylvia. “Mr. Carter and I used the KISS principle. Mom and I stuffed the information bags a couple of nights in front of the television, facilities knows how and where to deliver the boxes, the tent, table, and chairs. Mr. Carter took today as his comp day. I’m taking tomorrow. We’ll all be at Bay Days on Saturday. It should be hot, but okay.”

  “Better than last year,” Sylvia said drily.

  “You bet!” Carol said. “Mr. Carter is bringing a cooler, ice, and sodas. Mom’s baking cookies. We can go to one of the food booths for sandwiches. It should be fun!”

  They talked the morning away. Carol rehashed all of her concerns with moving in with Joe. Sylvia urged her to text Joe to see if she could see him that evening. He replied that he would be home all evening.

  “Put on your sexiest dress and take his favorite beer,” Sylvia advised.

  “And some of my mom’s cooking,” Carol joked.

  “Probably couldn’t hurt,” Sylvia replied.

  Sylvia talked Carol into leaving a little early to get ready for Joe. Sylvia left promptly at five and headed home.

  Owen was much better. He seemed brighter and his pain level was dissipating. He had spoken to the fiberglass repair place at the marina thanks to Skip’s insistence. They were going to take the boat for repair tomorrow. He had emailed and later spoke with his boss, Tom Green, who said he indeed missed Owen. Tom wished Owen well and asked him to return to work as soon as he possibly could. His mom had scheduled a follow-up appointment with the doctor. Owen was ebullient with joy, thinking he could return to work if the doctor cleared him.

  Mary and Anne were busy in the kitchen mak
ing tacos, one of Owen’s favorite meals. Sylvia went up to change into shorts and a t-shirt. She padded downstairs in bare feet. They came out to the deck to eat again. Sylvia told everyone about her day and what was going on between Joe and Carol.

  “Oh, no!” Mary commented, “That could be awkward at the wedding.”

  “I think they’ll be okay,” Sylvia replied.

  Owen agreed. “They definitely belong together,” he said.

  Sylvia was surprised that he said this but pleased. Mary told them she would be leaving the next day. Anne would stay until next week when Owen could return to work. He still wasn’t permitted to drive, nor did he want to, with the pain in his shoulder from the gunshot wound. They told him it would be three to six months to heal, but he was determined to get back to work in the next week or two. All three women looked at him skeptically.

  “Wh-aa-t?” he asked in a heavily accented, gangster type of voice.

  Owen was rewarded with chuckles from all of them.

  “Stubborn,” Anne said firmly in a stage whisper, “he’s always been stubborn.”

  “You think?” Sylvia asked rhetorically.

  The next morning, Mary got up with Sylvia to get an early start towards home.

  “Mom,” Sylvia told her. “Thank you for everything,” she said as she hugged her mother.

  “I’m glad I was able to help. I’ll be talking to you. You and Owen have the wedding stuff under control. Call and let me know how things are going and what I can do to help. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. I’m heading to the shore with John and Donna for a couple of days. I’m beginning to enjoy being retired!” she told Sylvia.

  “Good,” Sylvia said, “You deserve every moment. You worked so hard to keep us okay after Dad died. I’m beginning to understand now.”

  Sylvia hugged her mother. Mary’s eyes grew moist.