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

by Sharon Brubaker

  “That would be great,” Sylvia said.

  They drove what seemed like hours to Sylvia, through winding country roads and then on Route 1 to Route 100. They talked about the party and general subjects. Sylvia avoided talking about the soil and water samples. Her stomach was growling and she was puzzled when Owen drove past the entrance to Longwood.

  Before she could say anything, he said, “Marian told me about a great diner up in Chadds Ford,” he told her.

  “I think Marian knows everything,” Sylvia chuckled. “She’s an amazing woman.”

  “I think you’re right,” Owen agreed.

  They drove to ‘Hank’s Place’ and waited for a table. The line stretched out the door, but moved fairly fast. Finally they were squeezed into a tiny table in the back corner and the waitress served them coffee.

  “Marian recommended the blueberry pancakes,” Owen told her.

  “Then I’ll have those and sausage,” Sylvia told the waitress.

  “The same for me, but with bacon,” Owen ordered.

  They sat and people watched while they waited for the order, not talking too much.

  “Marian said Andrew Wyeth used to come here for breakfast,” Owen informed her. “It’s a hangout for some other artists as well.”

  Sylvia nodded and wondered if any were there that morning. It seemed to be a mixed crowd of farmers and tourists and some locals who were dressed in extraordinarily expensive clothing. The staff of the diner worked like clockwork. An older gentleman manned the grill and flipped the pancakes with a flourish. The waitresses were busy beyond belief, but kept calm and served customers with ease and patience.

  “Have you ever been to Longwood?” Sylvia asked him.

  “Not for years and years,” he told her.

  “Me too,” she said. “I think I remember Gran and my Mom taking me there for a theatre production once. I remember it seemed to be a magical sort of place.”

  “I think I went when I was an obnoxious pre-teen and was bored to tears. But, I do remember it being beautiful,” Owen said.

  Their pancakes arrived and they settled into eating. The pancakes were delicious and they both devoured them quickly and headed up to the gardens. It was a perfect summer’s day with the sun shining brightly. Longwood was crowded, but not overly so, at that time of the morning. Everything was glowing with life. The circular arches near the visitors’ center were filled with late blooming roses with a scent that was intoxicating. They followed this path past the lakes to the Italian water gardens where they sat and watched the fountains for a few minutes and fed the fish and the geese. Then they walked through the rainbow of color on the flower garden walk, toured the conservatory and the Pierce du Pont house. After a couple of hours, Sylvia was feeling the effects of the previous late night.

  “I’m still full from breakfast,” she told Owen, “but, I would love to get a cool drink of something,” she said.

  “Me too,” he agreed. “Let’s go up to the cafeteria.”

  They sat outside with cool drinks and some sinful desserts.

  “I know this is a touchy subject,” she said to him, “and I don’t mean to offend or make you angry, but can you give me any hint or information on the soil samples from the other day?” she asked breaking her vow from earlier in the day.

  Here she felt far, far away from Thurmont and safe somehow.

  Owen sighed. “I don’t really have the testing equipment at home to answer some of my questions or yours,” he told her, “and I haven’t been able to get to a lab at Thurmont to test my theory, but what I could see wasn’t good.”

  “Is it more toxic waste?” Sylvia asked.

  “Possibly,” said Owen, “but there were differences. From what I could see, it…” he broke off for a minute. “You see it doesn’t even make sense.”

  “What doesn’t?” she prodded gently.

  “It’s almost like a dinoflaggelate,” he said.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “It’s the type of critter that causes pfisteria,” he said, “But, dinoflaggelates are water based microorganisms and they’re not found on land. That’s one of the many things that doesn’t make sense.”

  “And,” Sylvia asked, “could this stuff or creature mean yet another superfund clean-up?”

  “Very possibly,” he admitted. “I don’t know really. Definitely some sort of clean up, but it’s alive Syl. And Thurmont won’t like that, I can assure you.”

  “Things just aren’t adding up and I don’t know why or how,” he said. “It’s damn frustrating.”

  “I’m sure,” Sylvia murmured. “I’m sorry I don’t know more about microorganisms and stuff,” she said. “It’s totally out of my league, but I don’t mind listening about it.”

  He smiled at her. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a bear,” he apologized. “This mess is going to get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better. And I need time to research this. Unfortunately, I don’t have the access I need for some sites. It’s not something I can just Google or feel that I can research at work.”

  “It’s okay,” she said benignly. Inside she was dying to ask if Anna had anything to do with it, but she bit her tongue.

  They finished their desserts and drinks and continued their tour of Longwood. They sat mesmerized watching the fountain show at the main fountain gardens and it was there Owen took her hand. Sylvia was blissfully happy. They continued to walk through the gardens, up through the chimes tower that overlooked a waterfall and through a wooded area. Sylvia just stopped and stared when they came to a grove of Atlas Cedars.

  “What magnificent trees!” she cried. “I’ve never seen anything like them.” She went over to one of the trees ducking under the huge branches. “Look,” she said to Owen, “you could crawl right into one and sit and read a book. Look at these!” She bent down and picked up something that looked like a wooden rose.

  “It’s the top part of the cone,” Owen said with a grin, “and it certainly looks like a rose,” he said examining what she had found.

  When Sylvia reached over and touched the bark, she thought she might see sparks from the jolt of energy that met her hands it was that strong. She took her hands away from the tree, and her hands and arms still tingled. It was hard to pull away. As they walked further down the path, she kept looking back at the trees. She wasn’t surprised that they had a tremendous aura that seemed to reach out a couple of feet from the tree. Owen took her tingling hand as they finished up their tour. She was surprised at the intensity of the experience. On the ride home as they continued to talk, Owen occasionally took her hand. He shared more about his childhood and told her about his parents. Sylvia asked him if he wanted to come in for a while when they pulled into her drive, but Owen declined.

  “No,” he said quietly, “I think I’d better get back. Thanks for coming today,” he told her.

  “Thank you for the lovely day,” she said, looking into his eyes seeing only a glimmer of the worry she noticed before.

  This time he kissed her gently, once, twice and then a third time. Sylvia knew it held the promise of many more. It sent a shiver through her insides that was not at all unpleasant. She said goodbye a little breathlessly and went into the house.

  After pinching herself for the unbelievably wonderful day, Sylvia checked the answering machine. There were two messages from her mother and one from Carol. She called her mother to say ‘hello’ and check in for the week.

  “You sound different,” her mother said, “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Sylvia said, “Probably just a little tired from the party last night.”

  “I don’t think it’s that,” her mother was working on her motherly telepathy, but Sylvia didn’t want to talk about Owen and the day today, so she kept silent. After her phone call from her mother she thought about calling Gwen. She decided against it, wanting to hold the special feelings of the day wrapped tightly around her like a cozy quilt. She texted her with only two
words – 1st date – knowing Gwen would know exactly what she meant. She also emailed Carol that she had lunch for the both of them tomorrow. She pulled out some of the leftovers from the Marian’s party that Owen had thoughtfully put in the refrigerator. Sylvia made up a couple of plates for Carol and herself for Monday lunch and heated the rest in the microwave. Then she settled down to miniature quiches, and other treats, with a glass of wine for her ritual of having dinner while watching the sunset over the water. The sun looked as though it had caught fire and was setting with a blaze of magnificent orange-red streaks shooting out of its burning edges. She thought of the folktale her grandmother had told her of the Hawaiian god Maui that tried to tie the sun down with ropes. The streaks of color certainly looked like fiery ropes of orange and red. Sylvia marveled at the intensity of color.

  Chapter 17

  In May, 1963 Dorothy Maclean received an insight from within as she meditated: The forces of nature are something to be felt into, to be reached out to. One of the jobs for you as my free child is to sense the Nature forces such as the wind, to perceive its essence and purpose for me, and to be positive and harmonize with that essence.

  Monday morning passed swiftly for Sylvia. She hummed away happily at her desk completing work, laughing out loud when she received a one word email from Gwen stating ‘details!’ Sylvia emailed her back the message ‘later’ and received yet another email stating ‘Call you tonight!’ Lunch seemed to come quickly and she took the plates of leftovers to the cafeteria where Carol was waiting.

  “Wait a minute,” Carol said when Sylvia sat down at the table. “What happened to you this weekend?” she asked slyly.

  “What do you mean?” Sylvia returned, blushing a little.

  “You can’t hide it from me,” Carol prodded. “C’mon, tell!

  “Well,” Sylvia said slowly, savoring the suspense of keeping from Carol a moment longer, “I had a date with Owen yesterday,” she told her quietly.

  “Great!” Carol crowed. “He seems like a great guy.”

  “I think he is,” Sylvia answered beginning to dig into her lunch. “But, keep it quiet, okay? I don’t think the ice princess would appreciate it.”

  Carol made a face, a rude gesture and the comment, “Give this to ice princess Anna.”

  They ate for a few minutes with Carol oohing and ahhing over Marian’s hors d'oeuvres.

  “Can you tell her I’m up for adoption?” she asked Sylvia. “My Mom wouldn’t mind as long as I took her the some of the leftovers. Hell, she could adopt my mom too!”

  Carol was very close to her Mom, but Sylvia had understood quite clearly that she was not much of a cook. Carol and her Mom had a bunch of local restaurants that they frequented for meals. Home cooking was not something Carol had grown up with.

  “Owen is really lucky to be living there,” Carol said. “Does she cook like this every night?”

  Sylvia started to laugh, and then started to answer Carol when she paused. Carol had stopped eating for a moment and glanced around the crowded cafeteria.

  “Speaking of the good man,” Carol said, “Here he comes.”

  Owen was coming into the cafeteria and waved to them from across the room. He was smiling until someone put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Uh, oh,” Carol said again, sotto voce, “Here comes trouble.”

  Sylvia turned to look and saw Anna coming in after Owen. She walked swiftly up to him, put her hand on his shoulder to make him pause and began talking to him. Owen’s face went from happy and smiling to grim. He turned to walk back out of the cafeteria with Anna and did not look happy.

  “I wonder what’s going on?” Sylvia asked out loud.

  “Who knows,” Carol said. “Poor guy.”

  Sylvia finished her lunch and went back to the office. She emailed Owen a brief message “Everything okay?” It wasn’t until after 4pm that she received a terse answer ‘No.’ Sylvia knew it was related to some of the things they had discussed.

  When she got home, the phone was ringing and Gwen was leaving her a message to call her as soon as possible.

  Sylvia picked up the phone laughing, “Is this soon enough?” she chuckled.

  “Not quite,” Gwen growled with a grin. “So tell me, what happened?”

  Sylvia gave Gwen a brief run down of what happened Saturday and Sunday. Without going into detail, she told Gwen about the difficulties between Owen and Anna as well as her own feelings about Anna.

  “I told you it was tough to have a relationship with someone from work,” she chided. “Things can get difficult—fast.”

  “I know, I know,” sighed Sylvia. They talked for a few more minutes and Gwen promised to come again for a weekend soon. Also, Sylvia said she would go north for a weekend in the next month. The expression on Owen’s or Anna’s faces haunted. She dialed Marian’s number only to find out that Owen was still at work on something. Marian was well, yet concerned about Owen. She hinted that she hoped that Owen would ask Sylvia for another date.

  “Are you trying to be a match maker?” Sylvia teased her.

  “I don’t think I need to be in this case,” Marian told her. “This is definitely a case of mutual attraction.”

  Sylvia didn’t answer her. She let Marian’s words sink in. She told Marian thanks and hung up.

  She couldn’t help it. She was bothered by the fact that Owen was having problems--she didn’t have the correct words for it. The ‘not knowing’ was frustrating and deep down she knew on some level that Anna was involved. She wondered how involved Owen had become with Anna. Had he kissed her too? Had he slept with her? She called his cell, but only received voice mail. Frustrated, she paced for a while and then went down to the beach. Sylvia sat, throwing small stones into the water, some rather violently, gave up and walked down to the marina and then back to the house. The physical exercised calmed her disquieted mind and she lifted her head to sniff the water-scented air that mixed with freshly cut grass and garden flowers. The sun had started to dip and the bats were coming out for their nightly feast of mosquitoes. Fireflies hovered near tall grasses, and blinked off and on leading her down the road. Sylvia loved June.

  Tuesday passed and no word from Owen. Wednesday, Sylvia banged around the house and the office with frustration. She tried to focus on the stream watch training and pulling it together for Saturday. Thursday, no word from Owen, but when she met Carol for lunch in the cafeteria, she saw Owen sitting with Anna and her spirits plummeted further.

  Carol was watching the exchange between Owen and Anna and said, “They don’t look happy.”

  Sylvia, who had been trying not to stare, turned to look at the two and realized others in the cafeteria were staring at the angry couple. They were discussing something in sharp, short whispers. The cafeteria had turned quiet and bits of the argument floated out to eager gossipers.

  Suddenly Anna got up and shouted, “You can’t do this to me! You can’t!”

  “Like hell I can’t!” they heard Owen’s voice rising. “What you did was wrong!”

  Anna got up to leave and Owen put a hand on her arm to stop her.

  “Let go of me you bastard,” she screamed, drawing all of the cafeteria’s attention to her.

  Loud silence filled the room as all eyes followed the couple. Somewhere back in the kitchen a loud crash of plates and silverware jolted everyone back and conversations resumed.

  Anna stalked out and Owen followed.

  “Doesn’t look pretty,” Carol commented as she and Sylvia and the rest of the cafeteria watched the pair leave.

  Sylvia was sick with worry. She had a terrible feeling of dread that she couldn’t shake about Owen and she couldn’t concentrate on her work that afternoon. At home she ripped through the house cleaning and then set off for a walk down the beach to the marina and back to the road. The Green Man fell in step beside her and Sylvia ignored him at first.

  “What?” Sylvia finally asked testily.

  “Hmm,” replied the Green Man, “You’re a b
it grumpy today.”

  “Grumpy, frustrated, call it what you want,” Sylvia snapped.

  “Hmm,” he murmured. “Listen well,” he told her. “Veriditas,” he said breaking off their conversation and looking up the road.

  Sylvia looked up too. Owen’s car pulled into the driveway. Sylvia gave a small, glad cry and began to jog up the road leaving the Green Man behind her.

  “Owen!” she called out eagerly. “I’m here.”

  Owen was peering in the kitchen door and turned when he heard her call. She jogged breathlessly up to him.

  “Hi,” she said, panting a bit.

  “Hi,” he said brushing the front lock of hair back from his eyes.

  They stood looking at each other for a few moments, not speaking.

  Sylvia asked, “Would you like a beer or something?”

  He nodded. He looked miserable—his hazel eyes large and full of sadness. Sylvia thought immediately of a small boy and wanted to comfort him.

  “I’ll go get it,” she said, “let’s sit on the deck.”

  Owen went around to the back of the house and Sylvia let herself into the house, pulled two beers from the refrigerator and went through the living room to join Owen on the deck. He had walked down to the edge of the water and turned when he heard the door to see Sylvia coming onto the deck. She handed him one and they both sat on the steps.

  Owen didn’t talk for a long time. He sat at the edge of the step, rather nervously, Sylvia thought sipping his beer. Owen finally reached out his hand and took Sylvia’s clutching it tightly.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked after several minutes.

  “Anna,” he croaked almost choking on a swig of beer, “Anna’s been changing the numbers on the environmental tests.”

  “What?” Sylvia asked incredulously.

  “Anna,” he said, dryly, shaking his head.

  “What’s going to happen?” Sylvia asked. She only had a vague idea of the magnitude of his news, but the mere thought of domino effect it would have on the company and with the EPA made her ill.