A Field of Poppies

by Sharon Sala

  It was a name in the obituaries that caught her eye. Once she began to read, everything about Justin’s behavior was suddenly clear.

  Sunny Roberts was dead.

  She scanned the rest of the obit, noting Sunny’s husband has passed on the same day, and that she was survived by two children – step-son John Sadler of Atlanta, Georgia, and daughter, Poppy Sadler of the home.

  Amelia’s heart skipped a beat. So she’d had a child. That didn’t mean it was Justin’s. More likely, it belonged to the man she had married. Still, she had to tread lightly. What she needed was information, and she knew where to get it. The family lawyer was a font of information. What he didn’t know, he could find out.

  When she heard Lillian coming from the kitchen with her food, she calmly turned the page to an EPA study on water contamination and strip mines. In their line of business it paid to stay on top of the new regulations.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Caulfield,” Lillian said, as she set the food and coffee at her place. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  Amelia glanced at the plate. “No, it looks fine. Would you tell Newton that I’ll be ready to go to the hospital as soon as I’ve eaten?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Amelia took her first bite. “Delicious.”

  Lillian smiled. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be back in a few minutes to refill your cup. In the meantime, enjoy your breakfast.”

  Amelia did just that, right down to the last bite of strawberry and waffle, finished off her coffee and went to get her things.

  Newton was waiting by the limo as she left the house. He opened the back door.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Caulfield.”

  “Good morning, Newton. It’s a beautiful day.”

  “Yes, ma’am, that it is. Do you need to stop anywhere else before we go to the hospital?”

  “I think not.”

  He shut her door as she got inside, and they were soon on their way to St. Anne’s.

  As soon as Amelia buckled up she called the company lawyer on her cell, using his private number to bypass the secretary. It rang twice before he picked up.

  “Graham Ring.”

  “Graham, this is Amelia Caulfield.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Caulfield. How are you this fine morning?”

  “I’m well, thank you. I’m on my way to the hospital to visit my granddaughter.”

  “I hear she’s better, which is such a blessing. So, what can I do for you?”

  “Yes, it is a blessing. What I need is a little information. There’s a young woman here in Caulfield named Poppy Sadler, daughter of recently deceased Helen Roberts Sadler. I need to know Miss Sadler’s place of birth and birthday. And call me back on this number.”

  “Oh. Yes, ma’am, Poppy Sadler. I’ve already met her. Sweet girl.”

  Amelia frowned. “Really? In what capacity, may I ask?”

  “Just company business. Her father’s murder struck a chord of sympathy with your son, Justin. He ordered me to make Miss Sadler the beneficiary of Mr. Sadler’s pension rather than her mother, who had died that same day. Peculiar circumstances, then both dying on the same day like that, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes. Peculiar. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  “Of course,” Graham said, and hung up.

  Amelia’s gut knotted as she dropped her phone back in her purse. So Justin had gone all soft and doled out a pension to a family member other than a spouse, and that was before she’d let the cat out of the bag.

  He was already tying himself to the girl just because she’d been Sunny’s child. Now that he knew she might be his, she wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to insinuate himself into her tawdry life – or even worse – bring her into theirs. She quickly shoved the thought aside. There would be time to deal with that issue, if and when it happened.

  By the time she got to the hospital, she was gearing herself up for the day ahead.

  ****

  Justin swallowed the last bite of his second sausage and egg biscuit and then washed it down with a big gulp of coffee. He tossed the refuse in a drive-by trash can and then put in a call to the company lawyer on his way back to the office. Like his mother, he bypassed the secretary, using Graham’s personal line.

  “Graham Ring.”

  “Good morning, Graham, it’s Justin.”

  “Justin! I suppose this is my morning for the Caulfield family!”

  Justin frowned. Damn. His mother had called the lawyer? He couldn’t help but wonder what was she up to now, but wasn’t going to ask and have it appear something was happening that was out of his control.

  “I have a task for you,” Justin said.

  “Certainly. What do you need?” Graham asked.

  “Remember the Sadler girl I had designated as the recipient of her father’s pension?”

  “Poppy Sadler?”

  “That’s the one. What I need is her official date of birth as well as where she was born.”

  Graham laughed. “Obviously you and your mother didn’t cross paths this morning.”

  Justin’s frown deepened as he braked for a red light. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s already called in the request. I just spoke to her about ten minutes earlier. I believe she was on her way to the hospital.”

  “I see,” Justin said. “When you get the information, you call me, not her. I’m the one who needed to know. I suppose she was trying to help.”

  “No problem,” Graham said. “In fact, I already have the information right here. She was born December 9th, 1973.”

  “December 9th, 1973?”

  “That’s correct,” Graham said.

  “Thank you,” Justin said. “No need to call Mother. I’ll do it myself.”

  “You’re welcome. Have a nice day,” Graham said.

  The line went dead in Justin’s ear, but it took a few moments for the fact to soak in. His head was spinning as he sat at the intersection, counting backward from the date of her birthday. Sunny had been pregnant before the prom, which meant the child had to be his. It wasn’t until someone honked a horn, urging him to drive through that he realized the light had already changed.

  He felt blindsided by the news, and at the same time an overwhelming sadness for what he’d missed. Sunny had been pregnant. He wouldn’t let himself think about what she’d gone through alone, or the hell her family must have given her. It was too late to apologize to her. All he could do was make things right for the child - their child. It wasn’t until he felt tears on his cheeks that he realized he was crying.

  ****

  The parking lot at the Church of Angels was in overflow. Arriving cars were now parking up and down the streets. The pews inside were already full, and extra seating had been set up along the sides of the sanctuary and some out into the hall. Helen Roberts had been a well-loved member of this church, as well as the community, but it was her husband being murdered on the same day she died that had caused the influx. Morbid curiosity was a big draw. Would the family grieve more at this service, knowing there was another soon to follow? Suspicious whispers went back and forth throughout the church while they waited for the services to begin. What if Jessup’s killer was among them? What if it was someone they knew?

  When Pastor Louis J Harvard got the nod that the family was coming into the church, he stood.

  “All rise,” he said, as the family, which consisted of only John and Poppy, were seated.

  Confident of his role in this gathering, he opened the service with a prayer.

  ****

  Poppy was trembling. She had been ever since the long black car had pulled up in front of their house that was to bring them to the church. This was it. The last act needed to render her mama into the realm of what people referred to as ‘the dearly departed.’

  She looked up at the pulpit without focusing on the casket - to the sunlight coming through the stained glass window above Pastor Harvard’s head.

  So beautiful.

/>   So peaceful.

  And the flowers - all the flowers Justin Caulfield sent were on the railings, and on the floor, and sitting on little pedestals so that it almost appeared that Helen’s casket was sitting in a field of flowers. At that moment, all of her resentment about the flowers slid away. This was no longer about Poppy’s indignation. This was for Mama, and she would have loved it.

  The preacher was talking, but her only focus was the grip John had on her hand. Today he was her anchor and she was afraid to let go. As if sensing he was the source of her thoughts, John gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She laid her head against his shoulder, and when someone began to sing, she closed her eyes against the tears running down her face.

  ****

  Mike Amblin had slipped into the church and was standing against a wall in the corner of the room. He’d known the minute he entered the church that he’d come because of Poppy, not because he thought he could magically finger someone in this crowd as a killer.

  He’d never been in this church before, but he recognized a lot of familiar faces – some of whom were people he and Kenny had interviewed during their investigation, like Mel and Gladys Ritter, and Carl and Hannah Crane. He saw Tom Bonaventure, the manager at Caulfield #14 sitting at the end of a pew and remembered from the info in their case file that the man was divorced. Bonaventure kept eyeing John and Poppy instead of the preacher. Mike guessed he was suffering some guilt at having been the one who fired their father from his job.

  Or he could consider Kenny’s theory that Bonaventure could be Poppy’s father and that he was the one who Jessup had fought with, and the man who’d ultimately killed him. Of all the ones they’d interviewed, Tom was the only one who’d turned up the next day with wounds from a brawl.

  When someone began to sing, Mike saw Poppy lean against her brother’s shoulder. To his surprise, his eyes welled with tears. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the swell of his emotions. He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking, but he knew that she was sad. It was enough to hurt his heart.

  ****

  Vic Payton was at the service, sitting four pews from the front and paying little attention to the service. His gaze was fixed on the back of Poppy head and on the slight slump of her shoulders. He felt her sadness all the way to his bones. He knew what it felt like to lose a parent, but the pain he was feeling now had to do with losing her. Even though he’d never had a relationship with Poppy, it didn’t mean he hadn’t wanted one. It was hell loving someone who didn’t want you back. When all the chaos in her life subsided he was going to give it one more try, and then if she still wasn’t interested, he would look elsewhere.

  ****

  John sat in stoic silence beside his sister, but he felt all eyes were on him, judging him and finding him lacking for what he’d left undone. It would be years, if ever, before he got past the guilt. He’d apologized to his mom. He’d apologized to Poppy. He’d even made a vow to his dad to help find his killer. But what he really needed was absolution from the all-knowing, all-seeing God. He looked up at the preacher, then beyond to the stained glass window bearing the image of a bleeding Jesus hanging from the cross.

  Forgive me.

  He didn’t expect to get an actual answer, but oddly enough humbling himself enough to ask seemed to help.

  All of a sudden he heard Pastor Harvard begin to pray and was shocked the entire service was coming to a close and he couldn’t remember a single word that had come out of the preacher’s mouth.

  A few moments later they opened the casket.

  Poppy moaned.

  He caught her as she bent double, afraid she was going to topple out onto the floor. Her shoulders were shaking, but she wasn’t making a sound.

  “Sister,” he said softly, lifting her up.

  Poppy fell into his arms. She couldn’t face the sympathy and pity on the people’s faces and not lose her mind. Like a coward, she let John bear the burden while the congregation began to file past the casket on their way out of the church. She felt their presence - the gentle touches on her shoulder - the whispered words of comfort - but she wouldn’t – she couldn’t look up.

  ****

  Both the trip to the cemetery and the trip back to the church were all a blur. Poppy remembered coming in out of the cold and feeling warm air on her feet, then looking down and seeing the petal from a flower stuck to the skirt of her dress. Someone thrust a plate in her hand, herded her toward a table and she hadn’t moved since, letting the conversation flow around her while she stirred through the food and sipped her drink.

  John was more at ease visiting with everyone, but he was never far away. She just wanted the day to be over. She wanted to go home. She needed to get past the sight of her mama’s casket being lowered into that hole, of hearing the first clods of dirt falling onto the lid and knowing all she had left of her now were the memories. Sunny Roberts had been dead for years. Helen Sadler finally caught up.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Justin arrived at the cemetery with flowers for Deborah’s grave, but the visit was all a ruse. Today his dearly departed wife was getting a little pay-back. He was using her as an excuse to be on site when the hearse arrived with Sunny’s casket. It seemed fair, considering how she’d used him.

  It was one of those crisp fall mornings when the air was still and the sky was so blue and clear it appeared to go on forever. It was a good day to lay a sweet soul to rest.

  He rolled the windows down in his car then leaned back and closed his eyes. The faint screech of a hawk sounded somewhere high above him, and off to the right he could hear the distant thump of one of the powerful engines down at the paper mill. Nature and progress, always at odds in the world.

  He sat without moving, absorbing the quiet and gathering strength for the battle with his mother that lay ahead. She was a strong, conniving woman who had always gotten her way, and just because she’d aged, did not mean she’d grown weaker.

  He couldn’t change the past, and there was the chance he could lose one daughter while trying to make amends to another. It would mean airing dirty laundry and giving up his pride. It was a small price to pay to give Callie a kidney and better Poppy Sadler’s life.

  By the time the procession of cars from the funeral began to arrive he was braced. As they pulled up on the next path over and began to park, he got out with his flowers and began walking toward the place where Deborah was buried.

  He knew there were enough mourners already gathering for Sunny’s service that his presence would not be noticed, and even if it was, the assumption that he was there for his wife rather than someone else’s would be automatic.

  When he reached Deborah’s grave, he looked back. There was a moment of real physical pain when he saw the pallbearers carrying Sunny’s casket to the open grave. A part of him was dying, too.

  Then he saw her children. He’d never seen the stepson before, but quickly recognized the bond between them as they clung to each other in shared despair. It was strange to realize he’d seen Poppy Sadler off and on for years without knowing who she was. He’d admired her manner and the quiet confidence with which she carried herself as she worked. It was daunting now to look at her and know that she was also his – and that she’d been made from the young love and passion that he and Sunny had shared. Before he’d only seen her as another young woman, but now he was looking for shared similarities. He wanted her to turn around. But when she sat down beside her brother, the crowd of mourners moved between them and she disappeared from view.

  He glanced down at Deborah’s grave then gave the flowers he’d brought with him a toss. They landed slightly askew up against her tombstone.

  “So Deborah, I thought you might like to know your naughty little secret is finally out. I’d like to be pissed, but it appears I am not one to be casting stones. Rest assured that Callie is still my beloved daughter in every sense of the word, but I am not committed to lies as the rest of you were. I will walk over as many bodies as it takes to find the ot
her side of her family, and I will, by God, get her well.”

  With that, he turned on his heel and walked away. Preacher Harvard was saying a prayer as Justin drove away, and by the time the first clod of dirt landed on Sunny’s casket he was back in the office.

  ****

  It was after 5:00 p.m. by the time Justin got to the hospital. He’d taken Callie’s IPod home the night before and was bringing it back with new uploaded songs, via the list she’d given him, along with a pint of her favorite ice cream and extra spoons. The urge to take every day as a gift and ride it all the way to sundown had been made all too clear on this day. Since tomorrows came with no guarantee, today was about music and ice cream.

  He got off the elevator and headed down the hall toward her room knowing his mother was there. He was ready for battle and walked in without knocking to find Callie and Amelia playing cards.

  “Hey, pretty girl! I hope you’re trouncing your Nana good.”

  Callie smiled. “Daddy! Nana said you were too busy to come in today. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Justin glanced at his mother and smiled. He’d just caught her in yet another a lie. At least she had the grace to flush.

  “Oh, Nana doesn’t know everything about me,” he said, then laughed, knowing Amelia would get the inference without anyone else being the wiser. “I brought your IPod back with all the new uploaded songs, and...” He held up a sack. “Guess what else?”

  Callie laughed. “I don’t know, but I hope it’s not a puppy ‘cause the bottom of the sack is getting wet.”

  Justin laughed. Even Amelia was forced to smile.