Greenbriar Manor

Home...again?

It had been three weeks since the accident. The stable hand was still at the local hospital. Daniel had not called. What was taking him so long to check in? To come back to do something? Had Jake taken over the entire estate completely? There was muffled talk of the twins coming home for spring. He rolled his eyes. They were trouble walking. The last thing Greenbriar needed was their mischief and micromanaging.  Fran had always run this place with a fine-tooth comb. She was family after all. The house liked her and every move she made seemed to open up more warmth and mystery where once was only mistakes and mischief. Fran and Mack being home had brightened things again for a time. Mack had returned to his piano lessons. But not as ardently as before. Something must have happened in Vermont. He heard mumblings of a cousin and a long-lost friend who may visit in the summer. Fern and Mari could use some other friends. Bridgette had yet to confront Mari and for that he was glad. Maybe time had made her less receptive to that lost friend. She had so many now. Their father had come home. Bridgette would only become a fixture if he did not return again. He would face that when it came. Right now, he had to see if that horse would be ridable. His future depended on it. 

Ingrim waited patiently for the vet to finish the exam of his stallion's leg. Brooklyn was nervous. If Sultan was healing as he should then his dad could come home. If he wasn't then they might pasture him, and his dad would stay away. No longer needed at Greenbriar. His mother had been struggling with not seeing him after work every day. She was returning to who she had been before. Rarely leaving the house in the meadow except to wash laundry with Fern's mother. Gone was the spunky house master Fran left in charge. He hoped that when the horse was cleared things would look up. Jake talked quietly with the vet. He smiled and nodded. A good sign. Ingrim hugged his dad. A pang of longing hit Brooklyn. Ingrim pated the stallion reassuringly. Something like a memory hit Brooklyn. Rolling through his mind like thunder. A warm horse muzzle. The sound of a starter pistol. Sweat and breeze as cold as ice. A splash. Beeping. Bleach burning his nose. Waking up here under the treehouse with his dog curled up beside him and his favorite glove on his hand. A strange old dream.  

Jake and Ingrim came over and told him that he was healing well but not to be ridden for another week. Jake said he would appreciate his help preparing Ingrim again to learn to work with him in a different condition than before. He would race but it would be a while away. For now, Mack would learn to enjoy his horse as a support animal and offer other children in town a chance to ride him until he could begin more rigorous training. Jake reassured him that his assistant still had a job and patted him on the back. He thanked him quietly for always being a good friend to his son and for how the team made him a better rider and a better person. Brooklyn snuck into the mainhouse and up to the old maid quarters. There was a phone that had not been used in ages but would work just fine. He clicked each key slowly careful to pay attention to the number on the letter he found in Fern's room. An attendant answered. He asked which room to connect too. At once there was a thunk!  He heard whirring and some other noise a beeping that made his heartbeat accelerate. He could almost smell the bleach over the line. 

A man's ragged breath hitched. "Sir, (he wanted to say dad, but the shock would be too sudden). It is the boy from Greenbriar. They wanted me to tell you when you heal up, they are retaining your job. Jake and Ingrim and I believe you are the best and we can't wait to see you. The man whimpered. He was crying. Moved by what he had said. He said twice, "Thank you I miss my son and daughter so much! I do it all for them" Brooklyn gulped. "Yes, sir I am sure they know how much you do for them".  His dad coughed. "That place. That horse. It keeps a record of that love and the ways I have given. It takes a lot out of me. I do not know if I will see my family again, but I know that place will be my home again one day. Goodnight son. "The line went dead loud abrasive BEEEP assaulted his ears he dropped the receiver. That old music box started playing its mournful melody somewhere Outside of the window he saw a car pull up and a tiny girl get out. Blonde braids and emerald, green eyes. Her father was carrying a guitar case and some kind of official document. Fran shuttered as she grasped his hand and welcomed him inside. Was this Mack's father? Someone from Vermont? The girl looked familiar. He ran to the painting in the hall foyer. In the center of the oil painting was a dark-haired child about the same build and coloring except her hair was dark brown as chocolate. There was only one Greene who could be her family: Salem. The mystery had come back home. 

Meanwhile: Mack ran into the library and started swinging his arms around wildly, Mari looked up from her book, "There is a girl here. A girl named Brittany. I met her grandma" Mari smiled and put the book about dolls back on the shelf. Another friend was here. Fern had outgrown her. Bridgette had not shown up just left mementos around for her to carry and make her sad. She ran to the front door and stood in the alcove. Staring even though it was rude. The blonde girl wandered around for a moment and then settled on a couch in an old living area rarely used by anyone but random guests waiting for checks or book loans. She had a pink backpack, and she unzipped it slowly. She was putting something in the backpack. A small leather book and crayons. Blue and greys. A seal in the middle of an old style globe was on the front. A small stuffed toy stuck out from the backpack. Well-loved and filthy looking. A rabbit red as Carolina clay. She smiled and told Mack her grandma had bought it for her. Mack showed her the tiny porcelain horse and asked her if she liked it in Vermont. She shook her head no. He thought of tea with her grandma. She probably missed Vee. But she kept calling her grandma See-See like that candy company. Maybe, she did not know her grandma's first name. She was not as old as Mable which surprised him. She was tall but very curious. She held out something to him to look at: A yellow piece of doll China a spoon and cream jar. It had a B emblazoned on it with blue paint. As he held it, he felt dizzy. Lights in the parlor flickered on and off. The piano metronome slammed onto the bass keys startling everyone in the house. From beyond the glass parlor window, you could faintly see the outline of Bridgette's tiny shoulders banging the keys in fury her green ribbon flowing in the wind behind her. Someone had found Mari first and that would not do. The tiny three-legged dog was growling at the window furiously. His family was in that house. 

Fern and Fran hurried toward the noise. Brooklyn had come down the hall to find everyone in shock. His mother was shaking her head and holding Lorna's hand protectively. 

Brooklyn had noticed Fran was different when she came back from Vermont. Something in her spirit had changed. She was careful now everywhere she went. Watchful even. She was still kind to him but no longer stood in the side yard and watched their games of catch. Mari had said she had been rearranging the library and Fern had been helping her before she also had a fall. What was she doing on that rickety old ladder anyway? Their mother had not cleaned out the attic in ages. The bear that had fallen out was not even theirs. It belonged to a woman far away. Salem. Oceans between them now from last she had heard Fran say but now he was not so sure. There were room here for ten. Brooklyn. Mack. Fern. Ingrim. Mari. Bridgette...Whoever this child was made 6. Eight if you count Fran and Lorna.

 But something about the house counted adults different. Staff too. 

Thirteen souls at the Manor. Six in the Grey house. That was the rule. 

 Briars by nature prick skin for blood and hide in plain sight. Waiting for someone, thorns carefully concealed in secret between pretty greenery to trip up or grasp something regal tightly. Especially, someone who could not get free of them no matter how hard they wriggled. This house was no different.

 It was no oasis it was ostentatious.