Alice and the Green Man

By Constance Sprague

Love was the last thing on her mind when newly divorced Alice Owens planted a beautiful garden on the abandoned lot next to her house. But when a developer attempts to pave over her paradise, Alice meets the love of her life when a mysterious immortal Green Man arrives to help protect the garden.

While Alice’s two teenage sons take opposite sides in the conflict, her ex-husband schemes to put an end to her garden and her new romance in the hope of winning her back. But, when the Green Man casts a magical spell to shield the garden, a firestorm of media attention rages out of control, and Alice must risk losing everything she holds dear to save the one man she can’t keep.

In the modern climate of environmental awareness, Alice and The Green Man is a fairytale for the green at heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Constance Sprague
• Release date: Mar 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301457670

Constance Sprague

Constance Sprague was born in Erie, PA, a quiet under-the-radar city with no illusions about itself. She continues to saunter to the beat of a different drummer in the Washington, D.C., area, where she remains a closet whistler, a lifelong daydreamer, and a competent roller skater. She is the author of a half dozen novels, most of them bearing little relation to reality.

Book preview

Alice and The Green Man

Constance Sprague

Copyright 2007 Constance Sprague

Smashwords Edition

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All names of characters, places, and events are either fictional or used fictiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Author's Note

This restored edition of Alice and The Green Man includes material left out of the previous print edition. The cover by Deborah Harris is the original artwork created for the first edition, here given more space in which to glow.

I am deeply grateful to the readers and supporters who encouraged me to keep the Green Man growing.

In particular, thank you to Lily Sprague for her keen eye and all-around brilliance, and to Jay, for making the garden possible.

Chapter 1

He sat in the garden still as a stone. Sunlight melted into his olive skin, lighting it from within so that it glistened like a polished leaf. He waited, not counting the minutes or the hours, knowing she would come. It was her coming, after all, that had made his possible.

* * *

Alice didn’t scream when she saw the naked man in the garden. But her gulp of astonishment went down the wrong way, launching a loud and painful case of hiccups. She struggled to suppress them, which only made them worse, while her heart thumped like an unbalanced washing machine.

She stared at the man, whose downy skin gave off a scent of moss and honey. Vines straggled from his hair and twined around his torso before falling in a twisted tangle between his legs. His strange green eyes flickered like sunlight filtering through a forest canopy. Alice felt an almost overpowering desire to move closer to him. Another hiccup returned her to her senses.

What are you doing here? she said.

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. I’m here for you, he said. His voice was soft and low. It drew Alice like the call of some exotic bird.

She took a deep breath. Okay. Hallucination. Maybe the heat’s getting to me. I’m probably dehydrated. She shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment. As another hiccup erupted from her chest she opened her eyes and saw the man watching her.

I think you’d better get out of here, she said.

Don’t you know who I am? he asked, lifting his feathery eyebrows with an air of amusement.

Alice examined his face, wondering vaguely if he could be someone she had dated in high school who had snorted one too many lines, but nothing about him stirred a memory, though something about him pierced her usual defensive veil and made her feel on edge. The curling waves of his greenish silver hair fell to his broad shoulders. His jutting cheekbones cast shadows on either side of his pouting lips and a fuzzy short goatee softened his straight jaw.

Alice looked up at the sky, which, for the record, was cloudless and hazy with the sort of bright colorless vapor of heat that made every breath heavy and thick. She pressed her lips together and wiped her sweaty palms on her canvas shorts. Okay, you got me. I’m sorry. Who are you?

Alice glanced around uneasily as she said this, suddenly wondering what Tommy or Danny would think if they saw their mother chatting with some naked guy in the garden.

The man was studying her face now and Alice realized that her initial shock was rapidly mutating into annoyance. The last thing she wanted in her garden was a naked man. Hell, she came out here to forget about men altogether, and she certainly didn’t want to have to see one in the altogether among her roses. What if this guy was one of those nuts like the ones who walked around naked in Berkeley? Joni claimed the streets were full of them in California. Well fine. They can do that all they want on the West Coast, but not in Falls Church, Virginia, and for damn sure not in my garden.

A small nagging voice inside piped up, reminding her that technically it wasn’t her garden. She ignored it, as usual.

I have no name, though I am called by many names, said the man, looking gravely at Alice.

Alice rolled her eyes. She hiccupped in mid-roll, however, which kind of spoiled the effect. She frowned, trying to draw the line. Okay, Mr. No Name Naked Guy. Why are you here? And when are you leaving?, she added silently.

He smiled, dazzling Alice for a second with unexpected warmth and brightness. I’ll gladly answer as many questions as I can if it will make you more comfortable.

Alice put her hands on her hips. If you really want to make me more comfortable, I think you should leave. I’m sure my husband wouldn’t be happy to see you out here.

The man stopped smiling and nodded his head. You mean your ex-husband? He doesn’t care about the garden, does he?

Alice’s eyes widened. How did he know that? How could he know that? Feeling slightly more uneasy, Alice said, That’s none of your business. And I think you’d better get out of here before I call the cops.

The man snorted. Oh, I don’t think you’ll do that.

Alice frowned. What do you mean by that? A loud hiccup burst from her throat as she stood there trying to look bold and Lara Crofty.

The man smiled. I mean, this garden isn’t exactly yours is it?

Alice frowned and hiccupped again, a really big painful one. Wincing, she said, How would you know?

The man chuckled. Oh please. It’s my job to know.

At this Alice laughed and hiccupped simultaneously, which diminished the tomb raider aura she was going for, but left her feeling more relaxed anyway. The guy didn’t seem dangerous, at least. So you have a job? she scoffed.

He smiled sunnily. In a way. I have responsibilities.

I see. And is this casual Friday for you, or what?

His smile went behind a cloud. I’m sorry. I don’t really keep track of days of the week. I’m more attuned to seasons.

Alice shook her head slowly, taking this in. Okaaay, why don’t you just tell me why you’re here.

I’m here because you called me.

I never did, she protested hotly.

The man looked over Alice’s head, and she watched his eyes sweep the garden. You planted this garden, did you not?

Yes, but…

You cared for these plants, did you not?

Yes, but…

You restored the beauty of the sacred tree and renewed the harmony of this neglected site, did you not?

Alice hesitated. What was that about a sacred tree? Well, yes, but …

In this way since the dawn of time has mankind called to me. When the green and growing things of earth are cherished, the way of the Green Man is restored, and life becomes as it should be. I am here to reward you. And to help you in the coming struggle.

Alice’s jaw slipped. She shook her head and raised her eyebrows. She ran a hand through her dark cropped hair. In the silence of the moment she noticed that her hiccups had stopped. Finally she said, Well, you know, that’s really sweet of you and I appreciate the thought, but I think I’ll pass. So why don’t you just mosey on out of here?

The man quietly stared at her. Alice felt a drop of sweat rolling down her back. She clenched her fists and tried to stare him down. A butterfly landed on his head and stayed there, gently flexing its wings. Alice tried unsuccessfully to ignore it.

After another moment of freighted silence she heaved her shoulders and said, What do you want?

I want to help you.

Alice sighed. Right. Listen pal, I don’t need your help, I don’t want your help. I just want you to get out of my garden.

Aaah. There we are, back to the point. The man paused and looked thoughtfully at Alice. It’s not really your garden, is it?

Alice stared at him uneasily. How could he know?

I know you planted it, and you cared for it, and you have done a very nice job, I might add, said the man, glancing around at the roses, the nodding poppies. Then he looked back at Alice and said quietly, But, it’s not yours, is it?

She hesitated for only a moment before she admitted, No. It’s not.

Then the words rushed out. But I got permission. The real estate agent said I could garden here until someone bought the lot, and she doesn’t think that will happen for a long time because it’s not a very desirable location.

The man nodded. Exactly. You’ve been gardening on borrowed time for quite a while.

Five years.

He turned an appraising eye on the beds of perennials and annuals, the spires of hollyhocks, the overgrown lilac.

It’s really a shame, he said.

What do you mean?

That someone with your talent doesn’t have a place to garden.

Well, I’ve got this.

He looked at her silently.

What? What are you not saying? Alice glared at him.

Not very intuitive are you? He stood up. He turned and began to walk deeper into the garden, and Alice couldn’t help noticing how good he looked from behind. He must work out, she thought as she watched him approach the gnarled old apple tree that anchored the garden. Just before he reached the tree he turned and said, It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Alice.

Then he turned back to the tree, took two steps, and vanished into it.

Alice stared at the spot where he had been. She kept staring at it, willing something to happen which could explain what she had seen. Or thought she had seen. She couldn’t have seen what she just saw, she reasoned, weaving slightly in the warm air. Therefore, she must not have seen it. It’s got to be the heat. Maybe I’m dreaming right now and I’m about to wake up. She shuddered slightly, recalling how the curling silvery hairs on the naked guy’s chest had glinted in the sunlight. Maybe I’m running a fever.

And he knew her name. How did he know that? She went to the garden bench, where she sat down in the shade for a good half hour before taking a deep breath and deciding to act like the whole thing had never happened. Who would believe her if she told them anyway? And who could she possibly tell? Not Brian, that’s for sure. Even though it had been almost a year since the divorce became final, Brian was still having difficulty accepting the fact that he could no longer tell her what to do. And when it came to his ex-wife talking to naked strangers, Alice knew exactly what Brian would say.

* * *

On the other side of the apple tree, in a timeless dimension of serene harmony and balance, the Green Man leaned his naked back against the rough tree bark and breathed quickly. His chest felt tight and his hands were sweating. He stared at the grass shimmering in the soft sunlight and waited for his heart to stop racing. What wrong with me? It’s been a while since I’ve been through the portal, but I shouldn’t feel like this.

He slumped to the ground and felt his head spinning. His mind’s eye was confused with vague images of glossy black curls, hazel eyes and curving lips. He pulled absently at his hair.

Hey Fergus. Back so soon? I thought you had an assignment on the other side. Fergus looked up to see Colin bearing down on him, grin in place.

Aren’t you supposed to be saving some little plot of precious earth from devastation? Or was I misinformed? Colin playfully punched Fergus’s shoulder.

Fergus shrugged away from him.

So? Why are you hiding here in the shade when you could be frolicking with Maeve and the girls? Colin tipped his head in the direction of the nearby lake, from which the sounds of splashing and giggling floated through the languid air like bubbles in a glass of champagne.

Fergus hunched his shoulders together. I’m not in the mood.

Why not? Did you eat a bad fig over there or something? Or did you just have your way with a bevy of those forward-thinking modern girls? Is that what it is? You dog!

Shut up. Fergus turned his face away, unwilling to be drawn into a discussion of why he had come back to the Timeless Realm so quickly, or, more importantly, why he couldn’t stop thinking about the woman on the other side of the tree.

He tried to remember what it had been like the last time he went through. It must have been decades ago. The women he met and seduced then had been relatively compliant. They seemed to appreciate his skills, and they certainly hadn’t told him to leave. If anything, they’d begged him to stay.

Fergus stared off into the azure sky without registering its beauty. For once, the blank blueness of it grated instead of soothed. Here in the Timeless Realm, where nothing ever changed, where no one grew old, where no one died, where no one was born, such feelings of uncertainty jangled like sour notes in a symphony.

Colin reached out and touched him again, this time with concern. Are you okay? Seriously. Maybe you need a drink.

Fergus sighed and met his friend’s gaze. No. No, I’m all right. It was just... she was...a little bit...odd.

Colin grinned. Ah, well, if that’s all it is. No worry. You’re a bit odd yourself, aren’t you?

Fergus considered this. It was a new thought for him. He was used to thinking that he was perfectly in tune with Nature, both on this side of Time and in the other, the Changing World where Alice and her kind lived out their short lives. He had never given much thought to the reality of human existence. Compared to the immortal perfection of the Timeless Realm, it had hardly seemed worth thinking about. Now, having seen Alice, he suddenly felt he might have been missing something.

The sound of the wood nymphs frolicking nearby filtered through his discontent. Maybe Colin was right. Maybe he just needed to get drunk, get laid and get the job done. After all, all he really cared about was his tree. As long as he managed to keep the mortals from destroying his apple tree he would be able to travel freely between worlds. She didn’t need to know that. Let her think he cared about her little flowers. As if he couldn’t make a thousand flowers bloom if he wanted.

Fergus shifted on the grass and tried to rally himself to take a dive in the lake where the girls were sporting, slippery as satin sheets and just as inviting.

Yet, for some reason he couldn’t fathom, Fergus just wasn’t in the mood.

Chapter 2

When the phone rang the next morning Alice picked up the receiver with a soapy hand and reached for a dish towel.

Alice? This is Estelle Rigley. Remember me? The agent for that lot next to your house? Alice moved the receiver a few inches away from her ear.

A vision of rigid white hair, an upper lip pleated with wrinkles, and eyes glowing with irrational exuberance rose before Alice’s inner eye. Yes, she remembered her brief encounter with the real estate agent whose tiny Lot for Sale sign still clung to the outermost corner of Alice’s garden.

Hello, Ms. Rigley.

Oh, call me Estelle, gushed Ms. Rigley.

Okay. Alice waited. She couldn’t imagine any good reason why Estelle Rigley would be calling her.

Well Alice, I thought I’d better warn you. Nothing’s been settled yet, but I finally have a buyer interested in that property. I just wanted to give you a heads up, let you know that you might need to find somewhere else to grow your tomatoes.

Alice's stomach lurched as if she were in a canoe that had bumped into an unexpected alligator.

Alice? Are you there?

Alice stared out the kitchen window at the garden, where morning sun was gilding the new poppies. She swallowed.

Alice?

Yes. I’m here. I understand.

Well, I wanted to let you know. It’s not definite yet, but it could happen fast if he makes up his mind.

I see. Alice closed her eyes and clutched her forehead. Who is the potential buyer?

A business man from Seattle. He’s got a chain of coffee shops and he’s planning to expand into the D.C. area. He’s buying up a number of sites.

So he might not buy my space.

He might not. But he seems pretty gung ho. He’s definitely going to buy some site in Falls Church, and that lot next to you is a good bargain.

I thought you said it was a bad location for business.

Well, it was. Five years ago. I couldn’t talk anyone into even looking at it back then. But you know how it is. There’s been so much development, and the town keeps growing. The edge of town isn’t such a bad place to be anymore. Now it’s almost better, because of the parking, and there’s just so much demand.

Alice gripped the phone, her shoulders slumping. Yeah. I guess so.

On the bright side, your property values have probably gone up too, chirped Estelle. If you decide you want to put your house on the market, let me know.

Alice looked out the back window at the sunlight pouring through the turquoise fiberglass canopy, pooling on the empty concrete slab where Brian parked the boat—already long gone this Saturday morning. Okay. If I decide to put the house on the market I’ll call you. She paused. Thanks for telling me about the lot. And you’ll let me know if the deal goes through?

Oh certainly. If it does, I would imagine you’d have a little time before they start clearing the site. But it’s hard to tell. Sometimes these places go up like mushrooms—overnight.

Alice hung up the phone, her head spinning. She had always known the garden wasn’t hers to keep. But she’d gotten so used to having it in her life.

When the boys were younger, in their soccer-mad years, Alice had once taken part in a parent-child soccer game at the annual team picnic and a small boy had drilled a soccer ball right into Alice’s solar plexus with such force that she toppled to the ground gasping for breath and had to be carried off the field, much to her sons’ embarrassment. That was how she felt after the phone call—like someone had knocked all the air out of her lungs, so she couldn’t even cry for help.

In the beginning, when she was busy with her two small boys, she hadn’t felt the need to garden. It came on gradually, her need for it growing in proportion to her sons’ growing away from her. Yet it wasn’t until Brian paved the backyard to provide better storage for his boat that Alice had turned to growing plants in pots in the kitchen.

The boat, a twenty-eight-foot cabin cruiser that slept six, gleamed like a fiberglass monolith in the backyard. In bold script along the stern the words Wave Maker were flanked by a pair of curvaceous mermaids like the silhouettes on the mudflaps of an eighteen-wheeler. Alice gritted her teeth every time she caught sight of them. There was barely room around the edge of the boat to store the trash cans and lawn mower.

So Alice had tried to make the best of her window garden, filling every available sill with coleus, African violets, tiny cactus, and herbs. From the ceiling she had hung baskets of spider plants, wandering Jew, and trailing pothos.

The comfort these plants provided helped, but every time she looked out the window they surrounded she saw the abandoned lot next door and imagined what she could do with that much space. Once or twice she had tried to raise the idea of moving somewhere with a bigger lot where she could have a garden. But Brian wouldn’t hear of it. A bigger lot? Why would we want that? A bigger lot means a bigger mortgage, and who’s going to pay for that? You? I don’t think so. Forget about it.

The last time Alice had wistfully mentioned her dream of growing roses and tomatoes, Brian had sarcastically suggested she grow them in the vacant lot next door.

At first Alice had shrugged it off, knowing Brian was only joking. But the moment he said it, Alice realized that the idea had already been floating around in her mind, like one of those strong perfumes she declined to try in the department store. Still the scent lingered.

The lot was not exactly vacant. Burdock, wild mustard and witch grass grew rampant. Beer cans and bottles glinted in the flotsam of cigarette butts and pop-tops nestled under mounds of honeysuckle and Virginia creeper. Only an ancient lilac thicketed with suckers and a gnarled apple tree remained as evidence that once there had been a house upon the site.

Alice used to wonder about it as she washed dishes, staring out at all that good sunlight and space going to waste. In the three years they’d been living in their house then, she’d never seen a soul walking on the property—only the occasional stray cat, or the odd squirrel. When the apple tree bloomed she could hear the bees from her window. And when the greenish wormy apples lay rotting on the ground, gangs of yellow jackets and wasps feasted on the spoils.

That first year, Alice had started small. The lot looked to be about a quarter of an acre, much more than she needed. And, because she didn’t want to draw attention to herself, she had dug out only a five-by-ten-foot rectangle, enriched it with bags of manure and compost and planted six tomatoes. By August she had so many tomatoes she had to give them away at work. That fall she enlarged the planting space to a twenty-four by twenty-four-foot square. She worked in more compost, and in the spring she planted cornflowers, larkspur, poppies and marigolds in addition to the vegetables. The poppies and larkspur were so beautiful, bobbing and nodding at her each morning when she looked out the kitchen window, that Alice found herself smiling at them, talking softly to them when she went into the garden.

She planted more flowers. And more. In July, when the temperature was ninety degrees and the humidity close to the same, she put in a small fountain and planted geraniums and lavender cotton around it. She listened to the sound of the water splashing while she weeded, and watched the birds who came to bathe and drink from the fountain. She planted a butterfly bush, and bergamot, phlox and black-eyed Susans. She stopped worrying about someone coming and telling her to get off the property. No one ever came. She began to think of it as hers.

But Brian never missed an opportunity to mock her passion for gardening.

One sticky Sunday in July—the same summer she found his hidden stash of condoms on the boat and learned the true purpose of his pleasure craft—Brian stood at the sink, washing fish gunk off his hands, when he glanced over at the garden into which he had stepped only once in the two years since Alice had begun it. Jeez, what you got in there, Alice? A waterworks?

Oh, she had said, ever so casually, I put in a little fountain. For the birds.

Huh, Brian grunted. "How