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

by Sharon Brubaker

  “Would you go and get some kindling from the woods,” Owen asked her, “while I bring a load of wood over with the tractor?”

  “Sure,” said Sylvia and she walked off towards the woods.

  She picked up kindling but turned abruptly when she heard the rustle of leaves. Not surprised, she saw the Green Man. He looked regal standing among the trees.

  “You look like a king today,” Sylvia commented as she smiled up at him.

  The Green Man chuckled. “In a way,” he said softly, but he changed the subject. “You’re getting quite good at seeing auras,” he said.

  “Yes,” Sylvia said, “It’s wonderful. I found a great book at Gran’s that helps explain about the colors,” she told him.

  “Now it’s time for your next lesson. You’re ready to feel the life force,” he told her.

  “What do you mean?” Sylvia asked.

  “Everything has a life force,” he told her.

  “Like the one they talk about in Star Wars?” she interrupted.

  “Something like that,” he told her with a chuckle. “Different cultures call it different things. Put your hands on this tree,” he instructed.

  “What, am I going to be-- a Jedi knight?” she asked nearly laughing, but she saw he was completely serious and she put her hands on the trunk of a young sapling. A tingling electrical energy surged through her hands, through her arm, up her neck, down her spine, through her loins and down through her body. She gasped and staggered as she took her hands off the tree. The Green Man caught her arm and held her up while the tingling left traces in her core.

  “What is it?” she asked the Green Man.

  “It’s the tree’s life force,” he said. “You can feel the life surging joyfully through it. You see a different phase of it in the auras.”

  Sylvia put her hands on the trunk and the tingling sensation went through her body again. She was more prepared for it this time. The tingling filled her body and she closed her eyes briefly as it surged through her limbs.

  “This is amazing!” Sylvia said slowly taking her hands from the tree. The tingling stayed with her when she took her hands from the tree for a moment or two and returned when she put her hands back on the tree.

  “The life force is in everything,” the Green Man told her again. “You’ll be able to see and feel it in many things as you grow in your knowledge,” he said. “It is one of your gifts.”

  “Syl,” she heard Owen call. “Are you all right?” he called out coming towards the forest.

  “Fine,” Sylvia called back, “I’m fine! I’ll be right there!” she called out to Owen.

  The Green Man seemed to melt into the trees. Still tingling a bit, Sylvia gathered up the kindling and walked carefully back to Owen. She must have looked dazed as Owen asked if she was all right again.

  “I’m fine,” she told him with a little note of annoyance in her voice. She did not really trust her legs and she wanted to sit down to think about what had just happened with the Green Man.

  They set up the bonfire. Owen showed her how to build the wood in pyramid shape. After it was set up they sat down at the edge of the cleared area.

  Sylvia tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice, but had to ask, “Can you tell me about the samples now?”

  Owen turned and looked at her sharply. He hesitated and then answered, “I’m not happy with the stream samples,” he said. “I didn’t find high levels of toxicity, but there are still some problems,” he told her. “I’m not sure this will be the best marketing ploy to bring up the public image of the company.”

  “Don’t you think we need to give it some time?” she asked. “Since they completed the project this past spring, I don’t think the stream has had time to recover.”

  “You’re probably right,” he admitted. “It’s something we should keep in mind and make note of during the stream watches,” he said.

  “Did you solve your other numbers problem?” she asked.

  “Not completely,” he answered and he looked frustrated. “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” he told her. “I wouldn’t want you connected in any way.”

  “Is that why you didn’t answer my emails?” she asked, still hurt and angry.

  “It is serious,” he said with conviction. “I didn’t mean to be rude, but this isn’t something you should get involved in.”

  “Should you?” she asked looking into his eyes.

  Instantly Sylvia felt sorry she had asked. His eyes looked troubled and his mouth was set in a thin line. She felt compelled to put her hand on his arm. Tingling shot through her hand, very similar to the tingling from the tree.

  “It will be all right in the end,” she murmured her annoyance melting away.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” he sighed. “I hope so,” he added more soberly. They sat for a moment and just looked at each other. Sylvia couldn’t read him and was wary. “We’d better get back and help Marian,” he said.

  When he stood up he seemed a bit more like his old self, smiled a rakish grin and helped her to her feet. He hadn’t answered her question, but obviously he felt that whatever he had found was important enough to pursue.

  “Is this a typical party for Marian?” she asked Owen, agog with everything they had prepared. She didn’t have any experience that would compare to Marian’s mid-summer’s eve party preparations.

  “I don’t really know,” he said. “I was too young to attend before she left for England. My Mom and Dad used to say that Marian’s parties were quite memorable though.”

  They walked back to the house in silence. Sylvia raised her face to the sun as it was beginning to slant. Even in the early evening, it was changing the meadow into gold and lighting up the backdrop of trees leaving the forest behind in deep shadow.

  “There you are,” Marian said to them. “Well, what do you think?” she asked them waving a hand at the tables that would hold food and drink.

  “Lovely,” Sylvia answered as they surveyed the tables in linens set with chunky white candles and flowers and herbs from the garden. “It will look beautiful tonight.”

  “I think so,” Marian said. “Are the lights all set?” she asked Owen.

  He nodded, “Oui, Madame, everything’s done,” he told her with a slight bow.

  “Oh, you!” she scolded him, slapping at him good naturedly, “Good, if you two can help me get some serving platters down, we can wash them up and they’ll be ready for the food.”

  Owen went to get a stepladder and Marian instructed where to get particular platters that he handed to Sylvia, who placed them on the counter for Marian to wash. Once that was completed, Marian thought they should get dressed so that she and Sylvia could start preparing the food and put finishing touches for the party.

  They trooped upstairs. Sylvia showered and dressed carefully scrubbing strawberry stains off of her skin and putting her hair up in a simple, classic French twist and returned to the kitchen. Marian was already putting platters into the oven. She was dressed in a pretty, pantsuit of loose layers of chiffon in various shades of blue and green.

  “You look lovely,” Marian told Sylvia when she came down.

  “Thank you,” Sylvia said. “You do too, Marian. Your pantsuit is gorgeous.”

  “Thanks,” Marian said, “Now put on this apron so you don’t ruin your pretty dress as we finish up the last minute cooking,” she instructed.

  “Okay,” Sylvia said. “She didn’t want to cover up her dress, but knew Marian was right.”

  As she put on the apron, Owen came downstairs. He looked so handsome to Sylvia that it took her breath away. He was dressed in a snowy white collarless linen shirt and pleated black linen pants. She concentrated on tying on the apron to hide her face.

  “Wow,” he told the ladies eyeing them both with appreciation.

  “Owen, be a love and get the ice in the tubs,” Marian told him.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he said and saluted her with a smile.

  He went to fill large
copper tubs with ice and stuck chilled champagne bottles in it. Sylvia piled strawberries into a large cut glass bowl and placed it out by the champagne. She took out the fresh vegetable platters and put the dip on a bowl filled with ice. Marian pulled out a platter of cheeses and trays of crackers. She asked Sylvia to get the bag of sausage and cheese balls from the freezer and a couple of boxes of miniature quiches. They put them in the oven. Owen turned on the fairy lights and lit the chunky candles. Marian had Owen open a bottle of champagne and they toasted one another to a happy midsummer’s eve. Guests started to arrive and Marian whipped off her apron and hung it on a hook in the pantry. Sylvia kept an eye on the things in the oven and Owen took the plastic wrap from the cheeses, vegetables and dips. When the hoer’s deourves were cooked, Sylvia took them out to the tables and returned to the kitchen to remove her apron and went to join the party carrying a large platter of shrimp.

  It was an interesting mix of people. Sylvia met a doctor, several people that worked at the local university. A high school biology teacher asked if she could call on him in the fall to organize a high school team for the stream watch. She caught glimpses of Owen out of the corner of her eye and Marian was enjoying herself too. Some people were dancing to the Celtic music that Owen had playing on his stereo. She kept an eye on the food and tried to help by refilling the platters as they became empty. She saw Owen removing empty bottles of champagne and replacing them with additional bottles and ice in the copper tubs. She stood alone finally, slightly giddy from the champagne. The sun had set and Marian’s yard looked truly magical with the fairy lights artfully arranged in the trees and on the fence. The fireflies added their own bit of magic. Owen had done a terrific job. She listened to the music and recognized the ancient tune ‘Summer is Icumen In’ from her high school chorus days. She shivered.

  “Are you cold,” Owen asked as he came up behind her.

  “No,” Sylvia answered, “It’s so beautiful. You did a great job with the lights. It’s perfect.” She focused on saying the words correctly so that she wouldn’t appear too tipsy.

  “It almost makes you want to believe in fairies and magic,” he whispered softly.

  Marian made the rounds to the guests and told them it was time to light the bonfire. Everyone trooped towards the meadow.

  “Don’t forget to make a wish!” Marian called to everyone as Owen lit the bonfire. Everyone stood around, silent for a few minutes while the flames licked their way up the pyramid of wood and turned to a roaring blaze. Everyone began laughing and talking and teasing one another about their various wishes as Marian threw a bunch of St. John’s Wort into the fire for luck. Sylvia thought she saw the Green Man through the flames on the other side of the bonfire. She moved her head and there he was. He winked at her, pulled out a panpipe and started piping and dancing and moving towards the forest. People laughed and watched the flames, but didn’t notice him.

  “Did you make your wish,” Owen asked her softly.

  Her head was swimming. She started to answer but with Owen standing so close to her he was all she could think about. She shivered again.

  “You are cold,” he said and he put his arm around her. Electric shocks raced through her body from his touch. She had dated in high school and at the University, but no one had ever had this affect on her before. She wanted him to kiss her. She edged closer to him.

  “Syl,” Owen said softly.

  She looked up and turned to him and the next thing she knew she was in his arms and he was kissing her. She felt as though her insides were melting away and she was clinging to him as the kiss deepened and she was kissing him back.

  “Syl,” Owen said when they broke apart, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” he stumbled over his words trying to apologize when they finally broke apart.

  “It’s okay,” she answered closing her eyes a moment trying to cling to the last vestiges of the magic of the kisses. She was thrilled that he had feelings for her and almost embarrassed at how much she wanted him to continue kissing her and more.

  Marian’s voice broke through. She was calling to them and Sylvia turned to see her coming toward them. Sylvia and Owen took a step back from each other.

  “Owen, I think everyone has gone home, can you work at putting out the fire?” asked Marian.

  Sylvia looked around. It only seemed a moment ago that everyone was standing around the fire. She wondered how long they had been kissing.

  “Sylvia, can you help me clear the tables?” Marian asked her.

  “Sure,” she answered uncertainly, a little abashed and certainly sobered up from a short time ago.

  Sylvia returned to the house to assist gathering the candles and putting away the leftover food. Owen put out the fire and returned the tables and chairs to the basement and his stereo to his room. Marian poured them each a final glass of champagne and toasted them.

  “Thank you for your help,” she said and raised her glass, “To a successful Midsummer party!”

  They all raised their glasses and drank.

  “Now,” she said turning to Sylvia. “We need to be getting you home.” Marian yawned deeply, “But I don’t know if I can drive.”

  “I can take you home, Sylvia,” Owen said.

  “Thanks,” she told him. “That would be nice. I’ll run upstairs and get my things.”

  She went up to Marian’s beautiful room wishing she could stay and that Owen would be with her in that beautiful room. She pulled her things together in their little bag and went back down.

  “Thank you again for your help,” Marian said giving her a tipsy hug. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Whew!” she told her, “that last bit of champagne put me over the edge. Good night!”

  “It was fun,” Sylvia said.

  She went out to where Owen was waiting with the car running. She sat beside him, not saying anything. When he pulled into the driveway, he put his hand gently on her to stop her from getting out right away.

  “Sylvia,” he said uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean to take advantage…” he stopped. “I shouldn’t have…” he stopped again.

  She turned to him and said, “Owen, it’s all right. ‘Thou doth protest too much,’” she quoted. “Anyway, I think we were both caught up in the moment and, I enjoyed kissing you.” She stopped for a minute. “It’s not like the old days when we would become betrothed after a kiss and you would be forced to marry me at gunpoint.”

  Her comment broke the tension and they both laughed.

  “All right,” he said, and he looked into her eyes. “I enjoyed it too, but I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

  “Don’t worry, you didn’t,” she said. She kissed him on the cheek with a feathery soft kiss, got out of the car and went inside. She watched him drive away

  “I guess I got my wish,” she said quietly to herself as she went up to bed. Crawling between the cool sheets she couldn’t help but wish Owen was next to her. His chivalrous attitude about the kisses was nice, but annoying. She wondered what he was thinking. She hugged the pillow in the darkness, imagining she was laying her head on his chest and fell asleep with many unspoken thoughts and desires.

  Sunday morning dawned sparklingly beautiful to Sylvia. She jumped out of bed and couldn’t help but smile as she sipped her coffee on the deck. Owen popped his head around the corner of the house.

  “Morning, Syl,” he said cheerily.

  Sylvia nearly jumped out of her skin and blushed realizing all she was wearing was an overly large T-shirt and skimpy panties.

  “H-h-hi,” she said shakily when she turned and saw him standing over her.

  “Where were you?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” she said, painfully aware that she was clad only in an old t-shirt and her underwear. She maneuvered in her chair to be a little less conspicuous. “Still dreaming, I suppose.”

  “Marian wanted me to drop off a care package of last night’s leftover goodies,” he informed her.

  “Oh!” she s
aid. “That’s terrific. I’ll have to thank her.” And then remembering her manners she asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “I would love it,” he answered.

  She went in and rushed upstairs to put on a pair of shorts before she poured him a cup and brought it back out to the deck. He was sitting and staring out at the bay.

  “God, I wish I had a sailboat to use,” he said with longing in his voice.

  He was staring out at the bay that was filling up with white sails on this lovely summer’s day. Other boats motored about and an occasional cigarette boat zoomed by.

  “Do your parents still have their boat?” she asked.

  “No,” he said sadly, “they sold it a long time ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s too bad.”

  “That’s okay,” he told her. “Hey! Have you had breakfast?” he asked changing the subject.

  “No,” Sylvia said. “I was pretty tired from yesterday’s party. I just got up a little while ago.”

  “Would you like to go out for breakfast, or - uh,” he looked at his watch, “actually brunch?”

  “Sure,” Sylvia said, “If you’ll give me a couple of minutes.

  “Please help yourself to more coffee.”

  She tugged her t-shirt down and ran into the house and showered and changed quickly into nice khaki shorts, a black scoop neck shirt that showed a little cleavage and her Birkenstock sandals. She had purchased the sandals in a weak moment from one of the shopping channels, thinking of Gran.

  “Ready,” she said breathlessly, “Where shall we go?”

  “I don’t know,” Owen told her. “I’ve thought of a couple of places. There’s a brunch on the canal or we could head up to Kennett Square and go to Longwood Gardens.”

  She said, “Both sound lovely. You decide.”

  “Well,” he said, “If you’re not busy today, I would vote for Longwood. It’s not too hot and it would be a good day to wander through the gardens.”