A Field of Poppies

by Sharon Sala

  She made a face then patted his cheek. “Poor dear. Trouble at the office?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle. Don’t worry. It’s not worth mentioning.”

  “Of course you can handle it,” she said. “I never doubted you, just as I never doubted your father. He could always figure a way out of trouble. You got that from him.”

  Justin pointed toward Callie’s room. “What’s going on in there?”

  “Just the usual. I took the time to take a break. Do you want something cold to drink? I was going to the waiting room to get a soda but Oral is getting it for me. Would you care for something, too?”

  “I guess. I’ll be right back.”

  Amelia eyed her son as he strode away. There were actually wisps of gray in his dark hair and faint lines at the corners of his eyes. He was showing his age. Funny, she’d never noticed that before. But he was still her tall, handsome boy – so like his father. She chose to forget what a trial he’d been to the family through his teens and college years. That was then and this was now.

  She watched him stop to speak to Newton then take the cold drinks he was carrying, leaving the bodyguard standing in the hall with a disgruntled look on his face.

  Justin handed her the cold can that had been wrapped with a napkin and already opened for her convenience.

  “Thank you,” she said, and drank thirstily.

  “You’re welcome, Mother. Why don’t you go home and get some rest? It’s almost stopped raining.”

  She took another sip and then set it aside. “I believe I will. Let me tell Callie goodbye and get my bag. She’ll be thrilled you’re already here. You’re her favorite, you know.”

  Justin smiled. He knew his daughter idolized him. The feeling was mutual.

  As they walked into Callie’s room, he couldn’t help hoping one day they would all look back on this time as nothing but a bad memory and that she would grow up and grow old, giving him grandchildren to spoil.

  “Daddy! You’re here,” Callie said, and then grabbed a washcloth to cover her mouth as she coughed. When she pulled it away, he could see tinges of red. The bleeding still hadn’t stopped.

  Amelia picked up her bag and then wiggled her fingers in what passed for a wave. “Callie, darling, since your daddy is here, I’m going home for the evening. Sleep well and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Callie managed a wan smile. “Okay, Nana, see you tomorrow.”

  Justin swooped past his mother and the nurse who had just changed Callie’s IV, ignored the dialysis machine and kissed his daughter on the forehead.

  “Good evening, beautiful. I brought you a surprise,” he said, and pulled the angel out of his pocket.

  Callie beamed. “A new angel! Oh, look, her name is Faith! Just what I need to remind me I’ll get better! Thank you, Daddy! I love her.”

  “And I love you,” Justin said. “So tell me what’s been going on. Did you eat your lunch? Have you been out of the bed today?”

  Justin listened with one ear as his daughter began to talk, but he was focused on something more pressing. The shadows beneath her eyes were deeper – even darker. Her skin was almost translucent – as if she was already teetering toward the other side. He felt like crying. Instead, he laughed at something she said and tried not to think of how many sunrises she had left. Tomorrow would take care of itself. It always did.

  ****

  After receiving a phone call from the funeral home regarding her mother’s body, Poppy made herself eat a bowl of soup. The relief of learning Jessup had already paid for the funeral was overwhelming. They gave her a list of things they needed her to bring to get her mother’s body ready for the viewing, and in an odd way, having purpose gave her strength. She hadn’t been able to help Mama die, but she could do something positive to help her get buried.

  It didn’t take long for the word to get out, because the phone had been ringing with sickening regularity. The first few calls were difficult and before they were over, both Poppy and the caller were in tears. But then they began to get easier. It wasn’t that Poppy was growing callus about the losses, it was just that she had no more tears to cry. The ache was still there in the pit of her stomach. The words were still as bitter on her tongue, but for now, she’d cried herself out. Everyone knew what to say about Helen. She’d had cancer. Cancer was a socially acceptable reason for dying. The sad thing was that no one knew what to say about Jessup. Murder did that to a family. It was as if by blood alone, the death had tainted them all.

  The first one to finally mention him was Hannah Crane, the wife of one of the men Jessup had worked with. She voiced her sympathies about Helen Sadler’s passing, and then eased into what happened to Jessup without mentioning the actual crime.

  “Poppy honey, do they know yet who hurt your daddy?’

  Poppy frowned. Whoever ‘they’ were had done more than cause him pain.

  “Nobody hurt Daddy, Mrs. Crane, he was murdered, and no, the police don’t have anyone in custody, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Yes, well, of course that’s what I meant, I just didn’t want to say-“

  Poppy sighed. “I know. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I haven’t been to the funeral home, so a date and time have yet to be set for Mama’s service. You can call them tomorrow around noon to get details.”

  “I’ll do that, for sure,” Hannah said. “If there’s anything you need, you just let us know. We’ll be praying for you, sugar. Take care.”

  The call disconnected so fast it made Poppy’s head spin. That was lip service if she ever heard it. Hannah Crane didn’t want to help. She just wanted something to gossip about with the claim that she’d gotten it straight from the orphan’s mouth.

  Poppy hung up the phone. “God give me strength.”

  It was later in the day when the phone finally stopped ringing. She couldn’t put off calling her brother any longer. She had no idea how he was going to take the news or what he’d do about it, but he deserved to know.

  She pulled the phone into her lap and made the call, then curled up at the end of the sofa as it began to ring and ring and ring. Just when she thought it was going to voice mail, she heard a click, and then the deep husky timbre of her brother’s voice.

  “Hello.”

  “Johnny, it’s me, Poppy.”

  There was a long silence and then she thought she heard a sigh.

  “Is it over?”

  His lack of communication irked her. He hadn’t been home in six months and now this. No hello – no how have you been? His, just-get-to-the-point-and-get-my-misery-over-with, attitude hit her wrong.

  “It all depends on what you’re talking about. Mama’s dead, if that’s what you meant. She died this morning.”

  “I’m really-“

  “Shut up, Johnny. I’m not done. Only minutes after the hospital called, two cops showed up at the front door with the news Daddy was dead. Sometime last night, someone shot him three times and threw his body in the Little Man. He was murdered.”

  She heard John gasp, and then words spilled out of him like marbles hitting a hard floor and rolling in different directions.

  “No, no... God no! What..., do you... has anyone been arrested? Are there any suspects?”

  “No arrests. No suspects. I’m going to the funeral home in the morning to set a date and time for Mama’s funeral. The cops still have Daddy’s body so I can’t bury them together. His funeral will have to be later.”

  “I don’t understand. Why did this happen?”

  Poppy wanted to scream. “I couldn’t begin to tell you, but that’s pretty much what I’ve been asking myself all day. I will tell you that Daddy got fired a week ago and never told anyone.”

  “Fired! What the hell?” Then he sighed. “Shit. That was as stupid a question as the first one I asked. Chalk it up to shock. I’m sorry, Poppy. I’m so sorry. Hang on, sister, I’ll help. It’ll take a while for me to get there, but I will be home by tomorrow night.”

  The knowledge she
wouldn’t have to make all the decisions on her own was all it took to resurrect tears. Just as she thought she’d cried herself out, her brother’s voice brought new pain.

  “Are you crying?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cry for me, too, sister, and hang on. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

  “I love you, Johnny.”

  She heard another sigh, and this time when he spoke, his voice was shaking. “Ah, Poppy, I love you, too.”

  The line went dead.

  She was trembling violently by the time she hung up. The inability to control her emotions was shaking the foundation of the woman she’d believed herself to be. Outside the world was still grey and overcast. Exhausted in every cell of her being, she stretched out, pulling Mama’s pink Granny Square afghan from the back of the sofa up over her body, and cried herself to sleep.

  When she woke up, it was dark. Night had fallen on Coal Town. Though the rain had finally passed, the sky had stayed overcast and the wind was getting colder. Her first thought was that Daddy would be home soon and she needed to start supper, and then she remembered. The shock was fresh, like hearing the news for the first time all over again. Loss swelled until she felt she might choke.

  Desperate to shift focus, she threw back the afghan and headed to the bathroom. As she was returning to the living room, she began hearing footsteps up on the porch and then someone knocking on the door and calling her name.

  “Poppy, Poppy, it’s me, Gladys.”

  Gladys was a neighbor from a few houses down and one of her mother’s best friends. Girding herself as she went, she turned on the porch light and opened the door.

  Gladys Bailey was standing on the threshold holding a foil-wrapped dish. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen.

  Poppy looked for the car then realized Gladys had walked. “You must be frozen. Come in.”

  Gladys set the dish down as Poppy shut the door, shucked out of her coat then wrapped Poppy in a warm, enveloping hug.

  “Honey, honey, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Me and Mel were bracin’ ourselves for your mama’s passin’, but what happened to your daddy has done knocked us off our feet. What do you need? How can we help?”

  The offer took Poppy unawares. She hadn’t heard from even one of the people she’d grown up with. So far all of the calls had been from her parents’ circle of friends. And not one person from the restaurant had called to see if she’d made it home. It spoke volumes about her personal life. She had none.

  “You are so sweet to ask,” Poppy said, and patted Gladys’s hand while wondering what had possessed the woman to start out walking in the dark in this weather wearing those bell-bottom pants and open-toe clogs, then chided herself for the thought.

  “Please take a seat. Can I bring you some coffee? You have to be chilled.”

  “Do you have some made?” Gladys asked as she plopped down at one end of the sofa and began fluffing her hair.

  “Yes, if you don’t mind it being reheated. I made it at noon.”

  Gladys smiled. “I don’t mind a bit.”

  Poppy hurried into the kitchen, popped a cup of coffee into the microwave and then waited for it to reheat. While she was waiting, she put a handful of cookies on a plate then carried the hot coffee and the cookies back to Gladys.

  “I didn’t ask. Do you want sugar or milk?”

  “This is fine,” Gladys said. “Sit yourself and talk to me.”

  Poppy felt cornered. This was the conversation where Gladys began talking about how much she loved Helen and how she didn’t know what she was going to do without her. She tried to steer it away to something safer – something that might keep her from crying.

  “I don’t know what to say. Do you mind if I ask you some questions instead?” Poppy asked.

  “Course not,” Gladys said. “Ask me anything you want.”

  Poppy watched her dunk a cookie into the hot liquid, then purse her lips and suck it like a baby pacifier before she took a big bite. It was a strange habit, but then Gladys was unique in a number of ways.

  “About Daddy...”

  Gladys frowned as she chewed. “What about him, honey?”

  “Did he tell Mel he got fired last week?”

  Gladys gasped, nearly choking on the food in her mouth. “Lord no! At least I don’t think he did ‘cause Mel would have surely told me. Why did he get fired?”

  “I don’t know all the details yet,” Poppy said. “Had he said anything to Mel about having trouble with someone at the mine, or anywhere else for that matter?”

  Gladys paused, as if searching her memory, then shook her head. “No. All he ever talked about was a new treatment for Helen and how she seemed stronger every time he saw her, although I’m sure in his heart he knew better.”

  Poppy slumped. This wasn’t helpful. She’d been hoping for something that would make sense of what had happened.

  Gladys set her coffee aside and then folded her hands in her lap and leaned back. Poppy felt like she was being measured for something more. Her instincts had been right.

  “I need to tell you something,” Gladys said.

  Poppy tensed. “Okay.”

  “I visited your mama four days ago,” Gladys said.

  “You did? She never mentioned it, but I’m grateful. Mama loved you so much.”

  Gladys’s eyes welled as she took a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose, but when she spoke, it was very matter-of-fact.

  “You do know she was ready to die.”

  Poppy shrugged. Even though she’d sensed more than once that her mother had wanted to talk about it, Poppy had never been willing to go there. Now it was too late.

  “Well, she was,” Gladys said. “She was plain wore out from the sufferin’ and you need to accept that. Everyone dies and it was your mama’s time. She made me promise to tell you and make sure you understood that if a doctor had come in and told her there was another treatment to try, she was gonna tell him no.”

  Poppy was shaking. It took her a few moments to realize that it was from a feeling of relief.

  “I think I’m most upset that she died alone, without any of her family there,” Poppy said. “It’s something that’s been weighing on my mind.”

  Gladys waved her hand as if she was shooing away a fly. “Honey, I can’t tell you how many times in my life I’ve heard Helen say, ‘there are only two things in life you have to do alone, getting yourself born, and figuring out how to die.’ Ain’t no one on this earth who can help you through it or do it for you. Understand?”

  Poppy bit her lip in the hope she wouldn’t cry again. There were still things she needed to say and bawling all over the place wouldn’t help.

  “Can I ask a favor of you?”

  Gladys beamed. “Anything.”

  “I need a ride across the bridge tomorrow. I saw a pink dress in Bolton’s window display that I want to get for Mama’s viewing, and I need to take it to the funeral home so they can get her ready.”

  “I’ll do better than that,” Gladys said. “When you’re ready to go tomorrow, you just come down to the house and get my car. Do all the running around you need to do tomorrow and bring it back when you’re done.”

  Poppy sighed. Huge problem solved.

  “Thank you, Gladys. Thank you, so much.”

  “It’s the least we can do.” Then she remembered why she’d come. “I swear, I almost forgot. I brought you some of my chicken pot pie. All you need to do is pop it in the oven for about twenty minutes to heat it back up and it’ll be good to go. Now I need to be gettin’ on home to see to Mel’s dinner. He don’t like to be kept waitin’. ”

  “I appreciate your thoughtfulness and help,” Poppy said, and then followed her to the front door.

  Gladys stopped long enough to put on her coat and give Poppy a kiss, then she stood in the doorway watching Gladys hurry down the steps, waiting for Gladys to turn around and wave, which she did. Predictability was oddly comforting.

  Poppy waved back
then took the pot pie into the kitchen to reheat. Once it was in the oven, she got the notepad out of the junk drawer and wrote down the first name.

  Gladys Ritter – chicken pot pie.

  She knew the rules of the house for when someone died. Keep track of the food and flowers for thank you notes later. She’d just never thought about being the one on the sad end of the situation.

  The aroma was beginning to fill up the small room. On any other night, she would be waiting anxiously for it to come out of the oven. Tonight, the last thing she wanted was food, but again, she knew she would eat.

  Only the strong survive.

  Chapter Five

  Early the next morning, John Sadler notified his boss he was going home. For the most part, he was a self-sufficient man. He was twenty-eight, fairly solvent, and women thought he was good-looking, but he knew something the rest of the world didn’t. He was an emotional coward.

  The guilt of what he’d done to his mom was overwhelming. She’d literally wasted away and died without seeing him again. He couldn’t even use the excuse that she wasn’t his birth mother as a reason, because she’d loved him without boundaries.

  He’d just turned eight, and had no memory of a mother when his Dad married Helen. Never once had she made him feel less important than Poppy, who was born less than a year later. And because he was loved, he knew how to love the new baby, too. There were no words to explain his act of cowardice. All he could do was get home and start over with his sister – if she’d let him.

  He crammed the last of his shirts into the suitcase, zipped it shut, and within minutes was out of the apartment and in the midst of Atlanta traffic. Thirty minutes later he was eastbound on I-85 heading toward North Carolina. From there he would hit I-77 north and take it all the way to West Virginia. After that it would be small roads and back roads, but it didn’t matter. John Sadler was going home.

  ****

  Mike Amblin came into the precinct carrying a box of doughnuts and a to-go cup of black coffee. When Kenny Duroy saw the Franny’s Bakery logo on the side he started to grin.