A Field of Poppies

by Sharon Sala

  Monday, January 4th.

  He’s been watching me for days. I run into him everywhere I go, like he’s making that happen. Oh I wish he would say something. Anything. Even just hello.

  Tuesday, January 5th.

  It happened! It happened! He stopped me in the hall at school and said hi. I thought I would die. Everyone was looking at him. I know what they were thinking. What’s a cool dude from the north side of Caulfield doing talking to a nobody from Coal Town?

  Thursday, January 7th.

  He caught me after school to ask if I was going to the basketball game. When I said yes, he said he’d see me there.

  Friday, January 8th.

  It’s late. I don’t want Mom to catch me still up and writing. I can’t tell anyone what happened tonight without getting both of us in trouble, so I’m writing it here. That’s almost like telling my best friend, only I can’t tell Gladys because she can’t keep a secret. It finally happened. HE KISSED ME!!

  Poppy laid the diary in her lap and leaned back. She could almost feel the excitement in the words. This was Sunny before she was anyone’s wife or mother - just a teenage girl in high school on the verge of a great adventure. And in an odd way, it seemed like a story about someone else – someone she didn’t know. She didn’t remember her mother ever being this light-hearted and giddy. She couldn’t help but wonder what had happened between her and this fellow that had ended the young love.

  Outside, a car sped past on the street in front of the house, which broke her concentration. When she realized how much time had passed, she was surprised, but had no need to panic. Thanks to the generosity of their neighbors, there was already plenty of food prepared. She wouldn’t have to cook for a week.

  After John got home, she wanted to go back to the funeral home and see her mother again. The funeral was tomorrow. It was going to take all the strength she had to get through it.

  She took the diary with her when she went into the kitchen to get something for lunch, and read it while she ate. The thing between Sunny and her secret boyfriend seemed to be heating up. Poppy could almost guess what the next big revelation would be and wondered how she would feel when she read it. She and her mama had never talked about her first time to have sex, although Mama had drilled it into Poppy’s head plenty of times about the dangers of having sex and then losing regard for your own reputation. Poppy had called it the ‘once you lose it, you begin to abuse it’ speech. She knew it by heart, but now she was wondering if something had happened to Sunny that had turned Helen into a guard dog for her own child.

  By the time Poppy finished eating, she’d read the diary posts all the way through spring and according to the diary, it was little less than two months to graduation.

  April 3rd.

  I snuck out last night after everyone else was asleep and met him at the bridge. We drove out of town and up into the mountains to a place where we could be alone. We have talked about this for weeks and he keeps telling me I have to be sure before we do it. (That’s how I know he loves me). I am sure. I’m still a virgin, but I want him to be my first.

  April 4th.

  Last night I became a woman. It wasn’t exactly how I thought it would be. The first time it hurt and I cried. He cried, too, telling me he was sorry, that he didn’t mean for it to happen. But then we did it again and I felt my body take flight. This is the most beautiful thing that can happen between two people who love each other.

  Poppy didn’t know until she stopped reading that she’d been crying. The joy in that single entry alone was a physical burn. For the rest of her life she would remember those words. I felt my body take flight.

  She put the diary aside and walked away, needing space to remember that this was something that had happened over twenty years ago – something that Sunny had experienced and Helen had filed away with the rest of childhood’s memories.

  The phone rang as she was getting herself a cold soda and noticed it was Johnny.

  “Hey, you.”

  “Hey honey, are you doing okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. When are you coming home?”

  “In about an hour or so. I’m on my way to the morgue then I’m going to see Mom. When I get home I’ll fill you in on what’s going on. Do you want to go to the funeral home with me?”

  “No, I think you need to go by yourself the first time, Johnny. You can take me back tonight, okay?”

  “Sure I will, Poppy. I told you. You’re not alone in this anymore. Do we need anything at home?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, see you later.”

  Poppy hung up, then grabbed her cold soda and carried it out onto the back porch with the diary. Even though the day was a little chilly, the sun was warm on her face. She sat down in the porch swing and then pushed off with the toe of her shoe before she took a drink.

  This was her favorite place – the place where she’d come as a child to do all her thinking. It was as good a place as any to absorb what she’d been reading and remember that, while it was new to her, it was all in the past. Then she picked up the diary and once more, fell into Sunny Roberts’ world.

  April 12th.

  It’s almost time for Senior Prom. Three boys have asked me to go, but I’m going solo. He said he wanted to take me but we both knew what that would cause. I didn’t want to get him in trouble with his family. They wouldn’t like him dating someone from Coal Town. But if we both go solo, then it won’t matter who’s dancing with who during prom.

  April 14th.

  The prom was supposed to be fun. It was the worst night of my life. His family found out about me and they’re sending him away after graduation. He didn’t fight for me. They told him what to do and he just did it. He’s not the man I wanted him to be – just a figment of my imagination. I wish I was dead.

  May 22nd.

  I’m pregnant.

  At this point, Poppy gasped. The feeling in her chest was the same desperate, out-of-control feeling she’d had when she’d gotten the call from the hospital that her mama had died.

  May 25th.

  Daddy knows. He’s going to see the family and make them pay for everything. I told him if he did I would jump off the bridge into the Little Man and drown myself. He reminded me I wouldn’t be just killing myself. I would be killing my child.

  Poppy’s hands were shaking. She looked back at the entry date on the diary and flipped through the pages only to realize there were no more entries.

  She stood abruptly and staggered into the house. The diary fell from her arms as she headed into the bathroom. Once there, she paused to look at herself in the mirror. The woman she saw had become a stranger. The dark eyes were wide with shock. The skin on her face was the color of ash. Not pale, but gray, like she was already dead.

  And that’s exactly how Poppy felt. Mama and Daddy weren’t the only ones who had died this week. Poppy Sadler, daughter of Helen and Jessup Sadler, had just suffered an abrupt and unexpected death on the back porch of her home.

  Cause of death – ceased to exist.

  She glared at the woman in the mirror as if she’d just committed some unforgiveable sin, then stepped back and covered her face. The blood was racing through her body in a dizzying rush. The need to vomit was overwhelming, but nothing would come up. The betrayal of what she’d just read was overwhelming. She’d lost her anchor to her world.

  Disbelief was swiftly followed by panic, then rage as she grabbed the closest object, which happened to be her hair dryer, and threw it at the mirror. It shattered, splintering her reflection. Now she was as broken on the outside as she felt on the inside.

  Poppy staggered backward, her head still spinning. So, Sunny Roberts got pregnant and had herself a baby girl. This definitely meant Jessup Sadler was not her real father. She knew this because Jessup was years older than Helen. He’d been out of school, married, become a father, and widowed before she even graduated. Sunny wouldn’t have been seeing him in the halls at school and he certainly hadn’t com
e from the north side of Caulfield. Jessup was a native of Coal Town, just like her.

  Poppy’s heart was racing. Had Daddy known?

  Something told her he had not known before, but he found out, or he wouldn’t have hidden this diary in his sock drawer.

  In that moment, Poppy understood her mother’s words. I want to die. Everything was coming undone and she couldn’t do this again on her own.

  “Johnny... I need Johnny.”

  She staggered down the hall, back into the living room where she picked up the diary. She dropped onto the sofa then reached for the phone. Twice she tried to dial the number but dropped the receiver both times before the call could go through. By the time she was successful, she was also in tears.

  It began to ring.

  The room was spinning.

  She put her head between her knees to keep from passing out.

  One ring, then the second, then thank you God her brother’s voice.

  “Hello, Poppy?”

  Her fingers tightened around the receiver. “Johnny, I need you.” She wanted to scream, but it hurt too much to breathe.

  Panic was in his voice now. “Poppy? What’s wrong? What’s happening, honey?”

  “Come home. Just come home.”

  The diary fell out of her hands. She dropped the phone as the room began to spin and then all of a sudden, her world turned black.

  Chapter Twelve

  The medical examiner’s office was in a gray two-story building circa 1920. With the pair of gargoyles perched on either end of the building, it looked more like something out of a horror film than it did a municipal building, but certainly suited the location of a morgue.

  John was filled with a huge sense of dread as he followed Mike Amblin into the building. He didn’t want to see his father like this, but he had to. No more hiding from the truth.

  Amblin flashed his badge as they passed a security guard then crossed the lobby toward a bank of elevators. When they got in and started down, John’s nerves began to fire.

  “Why are morgues always in the basement of a building?”

  “It probably has to do with the availability of space and the amount of refrigeration needed,” Mike said.

  It made sense, but didn’t make John feel any better. It felt like a trip down to hell and when the elevator doors finally opened, he shuddered.

  The cold day in hell had just arrived.

  “You okay?” Mike asked.

  “Let’s get this over with.”

  “This way,” Mike said, leading him through a wide hallway to the double doors at the far end. “I called ahead to let them know we’re coming.”

  “Thanks again for helping me through this,” John said.

  Mike stopped short of the doors. “It’s part of the job. Are you ready?”

  John nodded then straightened his shoulders as he followed Amblin into a long, cold room with gray floors and gray walls. He shuddered again. Stainless steel tables were lined up in a row like candles on a birthday cake. The lab equipment looked impressive – far beyond the capabilities of a man who drove trucks for a living. But it was the scents of formaldehyde and an overpowering smell of commercial cleanser that was the slap in the face he needed to focus.

  When a tiny bald-headed man slid off a high stool, separating himself from the microscope he’d been using, John stopped. Moments later, Mike introduced them.

  “Doctor Wheeden, this is John Sadler.”

  “Yes, yes, Detective. Nice to meet you, Mr. Sadler. I have the body ready,” then he gave John a nervous glance. “Sorry, it’s your father. I’m sorry. I don’t do well with the living. At any rate, he’s here.”

  The doctor scurried to the back wall to the bank of drawers where the bodies were kept and opened door number six. The tray rolled out quietly and efficiently with a sheet-covered body on the rack.

  It was offensive to John that his father had been filed like a sheaf of papers, then shifted the anger to where it belonged – at the foot of the man who’d put him here and not those who were tending his murder case.

  Mike lifted the sheet off of Jessup Sadler’s face and folded it back across the broad expanse of his chest.

  “When you’re done, we’ll be waiting outside the doors.”

  The sight of his father’s face was like a fist to the gut. How could a big, vital man like Jessup Sadler be reduced to a mound of cold gray flesh? He kept staring at the body and trying to find his father, but he wasn’t there.

  His hands were shaking, touching first his father’s face, then his shoulder, delaying the inevitable. Finally, he reached for the sheet and lifted it all the way up, needing to see the extent of the wounds - and they were obvious.

  Jessup had been shot twice in the belly and once in the leg. The moment John saw the location of the wounds, he felt sick.

  God damn it. Gut shot. He’d bet a year of his life that his father was still alive when he’d hit the water.

  John’s voice was shaking, both in shock and rage. “Who did this Dad? Rise up like Lazarus and talk to me.”

  But there would be no miracles in this morgue - just an acceptance of the cold hard fact that his father was dead.

  Tears welled. “I’m sorry. We’ll make it right, no matter how long it takes.”

  He pulled the sheet back over the body, pausing to smooth down a wild hair in Jessup’s eyebrow before he let it settle over his father’s head and face.

  Mike and the M.E. were only steps away as he exited. He went straight for Wheeden.

  “Doc, I have a question. Was my father still alive when he hit the water?”

  Wheeden answered in a calm, matter of fact manner. “There was water in his lungs, which indicated he was still breathing.”

  John’s fingers curled into fists. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

  The M.E. hastened to add. “His wounds were mortal, though. He would not have survived them, regardless.”

  John’s voice was shaking. “That’s not why I asked. My father was deathly afraid of water. He couldn’t swim. So when he hit the water, he knew exactly what was going to happen, regardless of the wounds.”

  It was a shocking revelation that only added another layer of tragedy to the murder, but before anyone could comment, John’s cell phone began to ring.

  He glanced at Caller ID as he answered.

  “Hello Poppy.”

  “Johnny, I need you.”

  He could hear her crying. “Poppy! What’s wrong? What’s happening, honey?”

  “Come home. Just come home.”

  When the line went dead, he panicked. “I’ve got to go. Something’s wrong at home.”

  Immediately, Mike Amblin moved into cop mode. He didn’t like to think she might be in trouble again, but the possibility existed. “What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

  “I’m going with you,” Mike said, and ran to catch up. “Someone murdered your father and until we know who it was, we have no way of knowing how far-reaching the reason can be.”

  That scared John even more. By the time they cleared the building, they were both running.

  “Follow me. I’ll get us there fast,” Mike said.

  John jumped into his truck.

  As soon as Mike started up his car, he hit the lights and siren.

  John was on his bumper all the way through Caulfield. He kept imagining one bad scenario after another, and was in a full-blown panic by the time they crossed the bridge over the Little Man.

  ****

  Mike notified Kenny what was happening on the way over. When they drove up, he was relieved there no other cars in front of the house. The fact that the front door was not standing ajar was also a good sign, but not enough to stop the adrenaline rush as he slammed the brakes on his car and slid to a halt in front of the house. Her brother was right behind him.

  John had the key in his hand, shouting Poppy’s name as he ran. When they entered, they saw Poppy’s body lying on the floor.<
br />
  John panicked. “Poppy! Poppy! Can you hear me, honey?”

  “I’ll get a wet cloth,” Mike said as John lifted her onto the sofa.

  “The bathroom is down-“

  “I know where it is,” Mike said, and bolted down the hall.

  It occurred to John then that there might be more to Poppy’s statement about the cop being kind to her than he’d imagined, then forgot about it when she moaned. She was coming to.

  “Poppy? Honey... it’s me, Johnny. I’m here, sister. I’m here.”

  Mike came back carrying a cold wet washcloth. “The bathroom mirror is broken,” he said, and handed the cloth to John.

  “What the hell?”

  Mike shrugged.

  She moaned again, shifting John’s focus. “So you know where the bathroom is.”

  Mike realized what his familiarity with the place implied, but he was defensive enough on Poppy’s behalf to answer in his cop voice, which was just shy of pissed.

  “The first time I met your sister was when my partner and I came to notify her of your father’s death. She fainted. The second time I was here was after I found her on the bridge over the Little Man. She’d tried to walk home in the rain from The Depot and collapsed. She was so goddamned cold she couldn’t feel her feet. The third time I was here was to fingerprint her as a means of print elimination after we located your family car. This makes the fourth time. To my regret, all the visits have been a series of tragedies. Put the cloth on her forehead.”