by Tonya Kappes
Harper was well aware that the Coach only took it out on special occasions, and the less than twenty-five thousand miles showed there hadn’t been many of those. Everyone in town had approached the Coach about buying it off him, but he’d never given in.
“Nothing but the best for my Poppy seed.” He tossed the keys in the air and she caught them.
She stuck the pillowcase in the backseat and got in. The car was in mint condition and still smelled like brand-new leather. She gripped the wheel with both hands and stared at the building.
“Are we really doing this?” she asked. It was full dark and the night swooped around them.
“Poppy, I don’t know what that TV show was all about, but I do know that we have got to get you home and fix that hair of yours. We better skedaddle before we get caught.” The Coach put his hands in his lap and stared straight ahead. “Punch it!”
Chapter Seven
The adrenaline pumped through Harper’s veins as the roar of the Caddy and the smooth tires flowing underneath her as they sped between the tall oaks that stood like soldiers on each side of Pine Crest’s drive. Her chest heaved up and down as she wondered if blue and red lights were going to appear in the rear-view once she made it onto Interstate 27, which would lead her straight home to Hudson Hollow within a couple of hours.
Because Pine Crest was a voluntary facility, deep down she knew there wasn’t going to be a police chase; still, the thought of it excited her. The fact that her knight in shining armor was the silver-haired, ruddy-faced Coach made it that much sweeter. He had come to rescue her on more than one occasion.
“You don’t like my hair?” she asked, knowing he hated it. Granted, it looked a lot better when it was washed and styled.
“No. I like your black hair. The hair on your God-given head,” the Coach harrumphed. “I don’t know why all them women at the Hair Depot sit for hours trying to change their looks. I bet it’s all the gossip that draws them.”
Harper smiled. Hudson Hollow obviously hadn’t changed much over the past ten years. She had forgotten about the small town gossip that went along with living in Hudson Hollow. There wasn’t much to do there but gossip when she was growing up. She and her friends would pile in the car, one on top of the other, and ride north on Main Street only to circle the McDonald’s parking lot and head south until they reached the Piggly Wiggly. They repeated the route over a hundred times during the course of a weekend night. There was no bowling alley or movie theater to cause havoc; gossip was all they had.
“Can you get the pillowcase?” Harper asked.
“When we get back I need you to do me a favor?” The Coach cleared his voice of rumbling phlegm. “Change your hair color back and go by your God-given name.” He reached behind the front seat and retrieved the pillowcase. He set it between them.
“Can you put my Bible in there?” Harper held the Bible between them.
“You know, everything happens for a reason. I never watch TV, especially one of them silly shows about them celebrities. But when I saw your eyes, I knew it was you. But that hair.” He put the Bible in the pillowcase while shaking his head. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “What on earth did you do to get on one of them TV shows? I reckon you are going to tell me you are on one of them reality TV shows.”
“No. But I’m sort of a celebrity,” Harper said. “I have my own radio talk show. I thought Mama would’ve told you.”
“Nah.” He kept his eyes closed. “She never comes out to the farm much. Radio?”
“Yeah. Radio.” Harper boiled inside. She could tell the Coach wasn’t as spry as he used to be, and her mama had a duty to take care of her own father. There was no one else in Hudson Hollow to do it. “I figured she did and you didn’t like the idea because over the past six months I’ve gotten all my letters I wrote you returned to sender.”
“You say so?” He looked at her with a questioning eye. Harper nodded. “Damn post office.”
Harper giggled. The Coach rarely cursed, but when he did, it sounded so funny.
“They always screw stuff up.” He drummed his fingers on the padded armrest attached to the door. “Ever since Virgil LeMasters retired, I can’t seem to get my mail.” His eyes slide over to look at her. “Radio show, huh? You mean like Bunny Brewster?”
“Something like that.” Harper asked, “Bunny still has her show?”
“You know she does. Plays the best Low-retta Lynn you ever did hear.” The Coach reached up and turned the radio on and punched the tuner until he found George Jones belting out his single “Bone Dry.” His leg bounced up and down as he sang along, “‘No Jack Daniels, no Jim Beam whiskey, bone dry.’”
Harper smiled, remembering Bunny Brewster and her bleached blond hair, kinda like Harper’s hair now. Bunny wore purple eye shadow, ruby red lips, and a perfect pink strip of rouge on each side of her face, missing her cheek completely.
“Look at that.” Harper’s mama would nudge her with her elbow when they’d see Bunny Brewster out in public. “Her pants are so tight you can see your religion.”
At the time, Harper didn’t know what that meant. All she knew was Bunny had the biggest titties she’d ever seen. Dolly Parton didn’t hold a candle to Bunny. Harper knew firsthand. One summer her mama and daddy had taken her and the Coach to Dollywood in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. Miss Dolly herself had made an appearance. She had pulled Harper out of the crowd and snugged her tight. Harper had an upfront and personal confrontation with Dolly’s chest. Something she desperately wanted to forget. There was a picture out there somewhere to prove it. And it just might be stuck deep in that Bible. The Coach had snapped one just as Dolly pulled Harper in, sealing the memory into hard-core photo evidence.
“How is Bunny?” Harper asked knowing she had to be in her nineties. She was ancient as far as Harper was concerned.
“Doing good,” the Coach said. “Still flapping them jaws on the radio.”
Hudson Hollow’s own HH FM. Chester Castle was the owner and manager. He was a smart man. Chester also owned Not Much Bar, around the corner from HH FM.
The rumor was that Chester’s standard answer to anyone’s questions were “not much”; hence the name of the bar.
That wasn’t what made him a smart man, though. He was a smart man because he owned the radio station and gave Bunny Brewster the after-supper spot. He also cleared out the front window and made it a studio just for Bunny and her “adoring fans,” which were all the men who had full bellies, fat wallets, and a healthy appetite for a good beer or four to wind down their evening.
The men would gather in front of the station to watch Bunny; not listen to her but watch her giggle and shake as she danced to the music she played and listen to her coo over the airwaves. If she said your name on air, Chester gave you a free drink at Not Much. So all the men in Hudson Hollow would go stand in front of the radio station to listen to the show.
Harper had even heard Chester paid Bunny extra to make an appearance at Not Much after her shift, getting the men to buy more and more drinks. Harper wasn’t sure if that was true, but it had come from her high school best friend, Lily Jane Embry, whose aunt was friends with Bunny’s second cousin once removed. So Harper felt pretty confident it was.
Harper smiled and gripped the wheel. She had no idea what her future held, but she was glad for this moment with the Coach. He’d done better for her soul in the last thirty minutes than the last few days at Pine Crest with their trained professionals. Not that she’d given them much of a chance, but she knew in her heart that it wasn’t what her heart needed to mend.
She looked over at the Coach. The idea of him being what her soul needed began to germinate deep inside her.
“What do you talk about on your show?” The Coach asked the question she had always anticipated him asking her.
She had rehearsed her answer time and time again, but it never seemed to come out right.
“I talk about life issues.” Harper was pleased with her answer.
>
“Like cooking, sewing, and stuff?” he questioned.
“No. Like sex.” Harper cringed. It felt so wrong, saying that word in front of him. That was an unspoken word, and this topic just might keel him over.
“Sex of a baby?” His nose curled, his thick brows furrowed, and the creases between his eyes deepened. He reached over and turned down the radio. “I gotta hear this.”
“Intercourse between a man and a woman.” Harper gulped. Benji would have loved to hear this conversation.
“Heavens to Betsy.” The Coach threw his hands up in the air. “Why on earth would you ever want to talk about that? And on the radio?”
“You’d be surprised.” Harper groaned.
“Let’s keep that between me and you.” His crooked pointer finger gestured between the two of them. Then he perked up. “Like Hugh Hefner and them bunny rabbits?”
“Something like that.” Harper knew he wouldn’t understand.
“So Bunny Brewster and you are a lot alike with that sex talk and blond hair.” He crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep breath. “And you are on the TV because of it?”
“Sort of.” Harper would rather talk to him about Real Talk than tell him the truth as to why she was in Pine Crest and exactly what they were saying about her on those gossip shows. Sex talk was just talk. Burning down a mansion was flat-out crazy and he wouldn’t have understood it.
Harper’s eyes focused on the country road leading to home, which was deserted. The only company they had was her mind and the stars laid out in the open countryside ahead of them.
The car’s headlights shone bright on the black Kentucky Fence Post that lined the road as the old Caddy hugged the curves and hills of the old Kentucky road.
The fence of choice for central Kentucky was everywhere, keeping all the horses and livestock in the bluegrass green pastures.
“Tell me again why Kentucky uses that type of fence?” Harper asked. She wanted to take the heat off her. Plus, she loved to hear her papaw talk, sharing his knowledge of the state they loved so much.
“It’s Kentucky’s choice because it’s practical.” The Coach loved practical. “It’s black because it doesn’t have to be painted but every five years or so. The four boards running across are perfectly distant so the horses can’t stick their heads between the boards to eat the grass on the other side.”
“Why can’t they eat the grass?” Harper knew the answer. She was only trying to keep herself talking and awake at the wheel or they would be driving right through one of those fences.
“Sometimes you want them to stay in the pastures. And if they used three rungs of fencing, those horses would stick their heads through the opening and get hung up, breaking their jaws.” He put his hand up to his face. “The boards are attached on the side of the pasture the horses use, so if they do get hung up, the boards will pop off toward the horse, freeing it.”
“Look.” Harper pointed out the shooting star, turning their conversation toward the sky.
The Coach opened his eyes. “Well, what do you know? God just answered someone’s prayers.”
“He really works fast.” She couldn’t help but think God had answered her pray by slamming a door, sending the Coach to open the new one.
Chapter Eight
Harper’s internal GPS rang out like a big supper bell, telling her she was getting closer and closer to Hudson Hollow. She’d driven these roads leading out of town so many times, planning her escape when she was sixteen, only she’d get scared, make a U-turn, and head back home. The Coach was always waiting for her when she got back, as though he knew what she was up to. He was never without a MoonPie and an Ale-8 in his hand. He simply held them out as she grabbed them on a fly-by run to the weeping willow, where she devoured the comfort treat.
“Poppy, you pull into Trudy’s and I’ll treat us to the best breakfast.” The Coach popped up like his internal GPS had told him that they were closer. “She opens about five in the mornin’ and we are about that time, right?”
“I’m not sure if I’m ready to see people yet. I mean, I feel like I’ve burned a lot of bridges there.” Harper really didn’t want to go to Trudy’s, even though her mouth watered thinking about her homemade biscuits, sausage gravy, and grits platter.
With Real Talk, Harper was able to travel the world, but she never found anyone who could make better food than Trudy.
All of Hudson Hollow ate at Trudy’s, and by the reflection of herself from the rearview mirror, she wasn’t ready to see an old coon dog, much less people she hadn’t seen in years.
“Luckily for you, there is more than one bridge on the way into town.” He reached over and patted her hand.
Even through the wrinkles and dark spots, she recognized the hand that had comforted her in so many times of need.
What she wanted to do was get back to the farm, get a shower, a little bit to eat, and maybe a quick nap under the weeping willow. Then she was sure she’d know what the next step should be.
Trudy’s was on the west side of town and the farm was on the east. There was only one way to get from the west to the east and that was to drive straight down Main Street. Luckily, they were driving into Hudson Hollow from the west.
“Don’t forget to go up yonder and go around the bend before the fork in the road.” The Coach’s hand was swerving around in front of him. “At the fork, you take a sharp right, but you gotta be careful because Patches’s chickens sometimes get loose and they like to lay on the hot road. Never seen nothing like it. Almost like a fried egg,” He chuckled at the happy memory.
Harper sighed.
Life around Hudson Hollow was simple. All of this made her remember just how much she wanted out of here. The big-city lights and fast-paced life was exactly what she had craved and exactly how she’d lived.
It wasn’t like her parents didn’t give her everything she wanted. They did. She had the latest fashion styles; granted Hudson Hollow’s own Martin’s Department Store or Goodlett’s didn’t have the latest trends, so her parents would drive her to the mall and let her buy new clothes a few times a year. She had wanted a 1965 Mustang convertible when she turned sixteen, not like the other girls, who wanted the convertible VW Bugs that had been reproduced. On her sixteenth birthday the Coach had handed her a set of the smallest keys she’d ever seen. She thought he had given her a moped and was happily surprised to find the red convertible she had so much wanted, in mint condition, parked in her parents’ driveway.
No matter how much her parents tried to tell her that big-city life wasn’t what it was cracked up to be, the more she wanted to find out for herself. She did the good girl thing and went to college. Harper felt like it was her way out of Hudson Hollow. Perfect. She’d go off to college, get a degree, be old enough to move to wherever she wanted. And that was what she did.
It wasn’t like she had cut off her family and friends completely. She did go back once a year, or every two years. When she made it big on Real Talk before she was married was when her life started to mimic the one she had dreamed of. The parties, the cities, the men, the drinks, the all-nighters, and some press. It wasn’t until Sid came along that Harper had known what it meant to be a celebrity. Plus she felt like all the people in Hudson Hollow looked at her like she was a sicko, sex-talking, nasty porno star or something.
“Sharp right at the fork!” The Coach jabbed his finger in the air. “Chicken!”
“I’ve got it.” Harper reluctantly made the turn, swerving to miss the chicken.
Jumping in the Caddy a few hours ago had seemed like a great escape plan, only she didn’t even think about what would happen once she traveled back into her past. All the memories tickled the back of her brain.
“What the heck?” The Coach’s voice faded once the headlights of the Caddy created a spotlight on Trudy’s.
Harper put the car in the deserted parking lot. She had barely pulled it to rest before the Coach jumped out. Harper craned her neck to look at the sign, al
l lit up, that had boosted Trudy’s name for as long as she could remember. The D and the S in Trudy’s buzzed and flickered in the morning dawn.
Trudy wrote weekly specials trialed on the front door with red shoe polish. The red-painted words were cracked and half missing. The windows were boarded up and the windows that weren’t broken had crisscrossed two-by-fours nailed across them.
“I just ate here a week ago.” The Coach looked at Harper. He blinked with bafflement.
“A week ago?” Harper asked, a little more shaken than she wanted to let on.
There was no way Trudy’s had been open a week ago. The place looked like it hadn’t been opened in weeks, months.
“Are you sure?” Harper asked again, taking a careful step up on an unstable-looking porch to the entrance. The 1940s vintage double-lid cooler was bolted to the wood porch at the rusted legs near the front door. The plank wood floor had a lot of mold and moss on it, Harper noted, keeping the observation to herself.
The only time she could remember so much damage was when the lake would flood. She turned to face the parking lot and looked across the street to Hudson Hollow Lake. The yellow day was opening peacefully over the lake and it didn’t look high. Whatever had happened to Trudy’s wasn’t recent.
“Trudy always kept the flower boxes planted and up to date and these don’t look like they’ve had dirt put in them since last summer.” Her voice was a thin whisper.
The sound of gravel car tires coming down the road made them both look. The blue and white flashing lights of the police car came around the bend and slowed when the cop saw Harper and her papaw standing there.
He switched the lights off and pulled into the parking lot, parking next to the Caddy. Harper and the Coach stood there watching as the cop said something into the police radio, took off his hat, and put it on the seat next to him before he got out.
