by Sharon Sala
Just as Poppy stepped up on the foot path to take her across the bridge she caught a glimpse of the roiling flood waters below. It was yet another mistake in a day filled with errors.
She couldn’t look down without thinking of her daddy being thrown in there like so much garbage. She tried to look away, but it was too late. The river swallowed her up just like it had taken her daddy until she was leaning over the railing, drawn to the power of the water rushing past.
The sound of a car horn broke the spell. Startled, she pulled back and then moaned. Overwhelmed by the distance and growing weaker by the minute, she tried to talk herself across.
Move, damn it! You’re freezing. Get over yourself and start walking. Just don’t look down. Don’t look down.
She made it two steps further before another horror popped into her head. What if Daddy hadn’t been dead when he fell in the river?
Oh Jesus.
Had he struggled against the storm and the current, bleeding and in pain? He would have been frantic, thinking about her and Mama, knowing what a mess he would be leaving behind.
Again she forced herself to look away from the river and focus on the other side of the bridge. From where she was standing she could almost see the roof of her house. So close, and yet it might as well have been a thousand miles.
All of a sudden her legs buckled and she was on her knees, shaking too hard to get up. It was a bitch, coming this far and then coming undone. She slumped against the railing, then threw back her head and screamed.
A FIELD OF POPPIES
By
Sharon Sala
Copyright 2012 by Sharon Sala
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law.
All Rights Reserved.
Book cover – Kim Killion of HotDAMN Designs
www.hotdamndesigns.com
It is commonly accepted that we do not choose our family – only our friends. But like every accepted adage, there is always an exception to the rule, and that is where the secrets come in. Families are notorious for keeping secrets that can destroy an innocent life, and that is where choice becomes the solution.
We either take control of our destiny and go forward, or remain passive and let life pass us by. What the victim does not always understand is that, by choosing to do nothing, a choice has been made to let the secret stand.
I dedicate this book to all the people caught between a rock and a hard place, who chose to become warriors in their own defense rather than victims – who chose to laugh in the face of destiny and create their own paths.
To warriors everywhere.
You know who you are.
Chapter One
Poppy Sadler hated rain and it had been raining for hours – the kind of windless downpour that shrinks a person’s environment into a worm-hole view of the world and sends a spirit into emotional demise. Without guttering on the old clapboard house that was her home, she couldn’t even see the street. A wet gray curtain had been drawn between her and the rest of humanity.
But, if Poppy was honest, she would have to admit it wasn’t the rain sapping her twenty year old soul. It was cancer. The cancer eating away at her mother’s body was also destroying her family.
Ever since Helen Sadler’s diagnosis, nothing had been the same. Her daddy, Jessup Sadler, moved with an invisible burden that had made an old man out of him before his time.
Her brother Johnny was a trucker. BC, before the cancer, he had always come home at least once a month, sometimes more. Yet the day he heard about his mother’s diagnosis, within a week he had a new job for a different company that demanded a move to Atlanta, and then he used distance as an excuse not to visit. She guessed he didn’t want to be around to watch their mama die.
That was fine. She still had Daddy. He wasn’t perfect and had his own way of grieving, but he loved her and was good to her, and that had to count for something.
Only last night Daddy hadn’t come home.
Poppy didn’t want to think that he’d fallen off the wagon again, but past history was a hard fact to ignore. Because they shared the family car, she’d already been forced to call her boss at the restaurant to tell him she’d be late coming in. If it hadn’t been for the rain keeping away most of their usual customers, he would have been pissed.
She kept glancing at the clock and trying not to panic. If Daddy didn’t get home soon, she would have to take a cab to work, which would be six dollars she didn’t have to waste.
When her phone began to ring, she cringed. If it was her boss again, she was screwed. She saw Caller ID and the floor began to tilt. It took her a moment to realize there was nothing wrong with the floor, just with her, and grabbed onto the back of the sofa to keep from falling. This couldn’t be good news.
She closed her eyes before she answered, as if being sightless would make the hearing of it easier to bear.
“Hello.”
“This is Doctor Mackay from Saint Anne’s Hospital, may I speak to Jessup Sadler?”
“Doctor Mackay, this is Poppy. Daddy’s not here. Can I take a message?”
She heard him hesitate. He’d been her mother’s doctor for the past seven months and knew the family well. She could almost hear what he was thinking.
“I’m sorry, Poppy. This isn’t good news. Your mother passed away a short while ago. You should take comfort in the fact that she wasn’t in pain. One moment she was breathing and then she wasn’t. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
She couldn’t breathe and talk at the same time without screaming, so she nodded, and then realized that was stupid. He couldn’t hear her nod.
“Poppy?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose so hard her eyes watered so she could focus on that pain instead of the one in her chest.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Are you okay? Where is your father?”
She could, at least, address the last question. “I don’t know where he is. He didn’t come home last night.”
“I’m so sorry. Is there someone else you can call?”
What good would it do to tell him her brother Johnny had abdicated the family? At any rate, he was too far away to be of help. There were a thousand questions in her head, but the only one that came out was something out of her control.
“What happens to Mama?”
“We’ll call the funeral home. They’ll contact you later today. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
It was the dial tone in Poppy’s ear that broke her focus. Her legs gave way as she sank to the floor, but before she had time to come completely undone, she heard shuffling footsteps on the porch, as if someone was cleaning their shoes on the mat, and then finally the knock she’d been waiting for!
Daddy!
She scrambled to her feet, wiping tears as she ran.
“Daddy! Daddy! Where on earth have-“
It wasn’t Jessup Sadler.
Two men in full-length raincoats were at the door dripping water all over the threshold. They flashed badges.
Cops?
One stepped forward.
“Are you Poppy Sadler?”
Something told her this was more bad news and wondered what would happen if she denied it, but they were waiting for an answer, and the cop who’d asked looked kind.
“Yes.”
“Miss Sadler, I’m Detective Amblin. This is my partner, Detective Duroy. We’r
e sorry to inform you that your father is dead. Someone reported a body in the Little Man River early this morning. It was your father, Jessup Sadler, and we have a positive ID.”
Poppy blinked.
“This isn’t happening,” she muttered, and then closed the door in their faces and began to walk away. “I must be dreaming. That’s it, I’m still asleep and when I wake up none of this will be real.”
She thought she heard a series of sharp knocks and then someone calling her name. She frowned. That sounded loud and real. She looked back just as the door swung inward.
It was the same cop. Maybe this wasn’t a dream.
“Sorry miss, but we needed to make sure you’re okay.”
She folded her arms across her chest in a subconscious need to shield herself. “Are you real?”
The cops shared a look then he nodded. “Yes, ma’am, we’re real.”
Shock spread through her body, leaving her with nothing but a whisper to voice her disbelief.
“Then you were telling me the truth? Daddy’s dead, too?”
The cops shared another look and walked inside without an invitation.
Kenny Duroy was an underweight, middle-aged cop with little to no patience who ate his weight in sugar on a weekly basis. When he heard the word “too” his suspicions rose. His voice was challenging as he crossed the room to where she stood.
“Who else is dead? Is there someone in here that-“
She started to shake. “Mama died this morning. The hospital just called.”
Duroy’s inner alarm system immediately subsided. That wasn’t what he’d expected her to say.
Mike Amblin wondered if he looked as stunned as he felt. Damn, but he hated this part of his job, and Kenny had already stepped up as the bad cop. It was time for him to come in as the good one.
“Your mother just died? Was it here in Saint Anne’s?”
Poppy stifled a moan. She was shaking so hard she could barely speak.
“Yes, from cancer.” And then it hit her. If Daddy was dead, how did he die? “What happened to Daddy? Did he get drunk and drown?”
“No ma’am. He was murdered.”
The word was like a fist to her gut.
Mike watched her chin come up and for the first time he saw fire in her eyes.
“Murdered? Are you sure he didn’t just slip and fall into the-“
Duroy interrupted. “One gunshot in a body can be an accident or a suicide. Three gunshots is a murder. Do you know who-“
Whatever it was they wanted to know would have to wait. Right now she needed to faint.
Amblin saw her eyes roll back in her head.
“Catch her, Kenny!”
Duroy leaped forward but not fast enough to stop Poppy’s descent. She slid to the floor without making a sound, as if all the bones in her body had turned to dust.
“Damn it. Way to break the news,” Mike said, as he dropped to his knees beside her. “Find the kitchen. Bring me a wet cloth.”
A little surprised by the panic he felt, Duroy sprinted for the next room while Mike felt for a pulse. It was there, beating steadily.
He felt bad for what had happened. They’d had no way of knowing about Sadler’s wife and couldn’t imagine what this young woman must be feeling. He eyed the dark circles under her eyes and the thin contours of her face and wondered if she got enough to eat. She was pretty, in a tall, lean way and with more long, black hair than seemed fair for one woman to have. He smoothed a lock of it away from her forehead and then looked up as his partner came back with a cloth still dripping water.
“It’s clean,” Duroy said. “The whole place is clean.”
Mike frowned. “Just because someone’s poor doesn’t mean they’re dirty. Now shut up before she wakes up and hears you saying something else stupid.”
Kenny’s face turned pink. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
Mike pressed the wet cloth on Poppy’s forehead, then on her cheeks, then beneath her chin. When she began to come to, he rocked back on his heels.
“Miss Sadler...Miss Sadler, can you hear me?”
Poppy’s eyelids were fluttering. When Mike heard her moan, he hoped she wasn’t the kind for hysterics.
Her eyes opened.
Their gazes locked.
A thousand thoughts went through his head, but all he managed to say was, “you fainted.”
“Obviously,” Poppy mumbled, and began to get herself up off the floor.
Mike helped her stand, steadying her until he was sure she wasn’t going to buckle, then handed over the wet cloth.
“This is yours. We…uh, we got it from the kitchen.”
She clutched it absently against her belly, unaware it was soaking into her blouse. The room was spinning. She could hear someone screaming, but it took a few moments for her to realize the sound was just inside her head.
“Daddy’s car. Have you found Daddy’s car? It’s a 1999 Ford. The left rear fender is black, but the rest of the car is blue.”
They looked startled. It was an odd question, considering everything that had happened.
“No ma’am, we haven’t, but when we do, it will have to be taken into evidence.”
She shoved a hand through her hair, unaware it was trembling, and then looked down at the front of her shirt.
“How will I get back and forth to work? I have to bury Mama... and now Daddy, too.” She choked on a sob then took a breath, struggling to maintain some composure. “Just look at me. I’m all wet. I’ll have to change before I go to work.”
She was rambling. Mike had never seen anyone blink in slow-motion. Obviously she was in shock.
“Considering everything that’s just happened, don’t you think you should call in sick today?”
Panic spread across her face.
“I can’t. The boss would fire me and I need the job. Will you give me a ride to The Depot? It’s on-“
Mike realized she was going whether they took her or not. “I know where it is and yeah, sure, we’ll give you a ride. On the way we can talk. There are a few more questions I need to ask you.”
“Whatever,” Poppy mumbled. “I’ll be right back.”
She made it out of the room, stumbling and swaying with every other step.
Duroy gave Mike a dubious look. “Do you suppose she’s gonna be okay going to work and all?”
Mike was mad but he didn’t really know why.
“Hell no, she’s not going to be okay. She may never be okay, again. But she wants a ride to work, it’s raining like crazy, her mother just died, and we just pulled her father’s body out of the Little Man, so I’m gonna give her a ride, and then we’re going to go find that fucking car.”
Kenny’s eyes widened. He’d never seen his partner get this worked up about anything or anyone. Ever.
When Poppy came back, her hair was pulled away from her face, she was wearing a different blouse and a hooded raincoat over her clothes. She got her purse, checked to make sure she had her house keys, and then turned on a porch light. But it was the composure on her face that seemed out of place.
“It might be dark by the time I get home,” she said, then tucked her purse beneath her arm. “I’m ready to go.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mike said. “After you.”
They exited the house. Poppy paused long enough to lock the door, then made a run toward the car while the rain pelted her body and washed what was left of the tears off her face.
“In front!” Mike said, and quickly opened the door.
Poppy ducked inside as Duroy jumped in the back seat. Mike circled the car and then got in behind the wheel.
“Terrible weather,” he said as he waited for her to buckle up.
“It fits the day,” Poppy said, and then stared blindly out the window as Mike backed into the street.
Poppy eyed the houses as they drove out of Coal Town, and wondered how long it would take for the news to spread. Everyone here knew everyone else. She’d thought everyone liked her Daddy.
Obviously someone hadn’t liked him as much as she’d believed.
When they began to cross the bridge over the Little Man, she closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to think about his body tossing about in the downpour, waiting to be found.
Mike felt her anxiety. She was most likely thinking about her father’s body being pulled out of the river below, but they had to cross the bridge to get to her job.
All of a sudden a stooped figure jumped off the footpath and into their lane of traffic. Duroy braced himself against the back seat as Mike slammed on the brakes.
“What the hell?” Duroy said.
“It’s Prophet Jones,” Mike said, as the car slid to a halt.
Poppy recognized the old homeless man who roamed the streets of Caulfield. She’d heard stories that he’d once been a preacher, but didn’t know if that was true. She’d never seen him this close before.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
“Sit tight,” Mike muttered, and jumped out in the rain, quickly grabbing the old man standing in front of the car. “Damn it, Prophet! You nearly got yourself killed! What are you doing out in this weather?”
The old man’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen and it was hard to tell how many layers of clothing he had on, but it was completely sodden and molded to his skeletal body. He twisted out of Mike’s grasp and began to shout.
“The devil! The devil is afoot!”
Mike stifled a curse. Prophet was a menace to himself.
“Yeah, well the devil isn’t here now,” Mike said. “Come get in the car with us and we’ll take you some place dry.”
He reached for Prophet’s arm, but not in time. Before he knew it the old man had bolted in the opposite direction in a scuttling, crab-like motion. Mike thought he was going to have to chase him down to get him off of the highway when Prophet suddenly jumped back on the footpath and kept going.
“Crazy old bastard,” Mike muttered, and got back in the car. Despite the raincoat, he was now soaked to the skin.
