A Field of Poppies

by Sharon Sala

  There was no need planning what to say to her because he knew she’d be pissed no matter what, and her number was now a fixture in his memory so he didn’t have to look it up.

  It was a sad commentary that the only sure thing he knew about her was a damn phone number.

  After he made the call, he sat down on the side of the bed and counted the rings. If she didn’t answer, then she was already at work. He’d have to drive by to make sure she was there and not stuck in a snowdrift somewhere between her house and The Depot. Just when he thought it was going to go to voicemail, she answered, and he could tell by the confusion in her voice that she’d been asleep.

  “Poppy, sorry to wake you. It’s Justin. When I saw how much it had snowed, I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to have to drive in this.”

  Poppy raised up on one elbow. “I don’t know what you think I did for the past twenty years without your interference, but I don’t need your help.”

  “What I think is that your father looked after your welfare during that time, and I didn’t know you existed. What I know is that he’s no longer here and I still am, which means you’re stuck with my interfering phone calls now and then whether you like it or not.”

  She blinked. If he’d been coaxing, or apologetic, she would have felt like he was trying to get on her good side, but he’d challenged her. That was unexpected. And then she remembered he was still on the line and hung up.

  Justin heard the click and sighed. That wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, but she wasn’t the only hard-headed person on the planet. He dialed her number again.

  She answered on the second ring.

  “What?”

  “Do you have to go to work today?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have food in the house and is it warm?”

  “Yes, what do you think I am, a moron?”

  “I’m fairly certain you aren’t a moron. If you need help, feel free to call.”

  This time, he was the one who hung up.

  The click in Poppy’s ear was startling, and then she sighed. Yes, she’d been rude when he’d only been trying to help, but if he thought she could be won over like this, he had another think coming.

  Justin smiled. If they ever managed to have a relationship, he was guessing she’d be hell on wheels if crossed. Satisfied that one daughter was taken care of, he headed for the bathroom to shower and shave. As soon as he ate some breakfast and checked his email, he was going to Saint Anne’s to check on the other.

  However, Justin’s phone call had put Poppy in just enough of a mood that she couldn’t go back to sleep. Still irked by the call, she got out of bed, turned up the heat on the thermostat, and raced to the bathroom across the cold floor. Dressing in her warmest and most comfortable clothes, she turned on the television to catch the early morning news and went to the kitchen to make coffee. As she was putting bread in the toaster, the phone rang again.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, honey, it’s me.”

  “Johnny! Hi! Where are you?”

  “I’m in L.A., but heading back toward the East coast this morning with a load. I saw on the news that it was snowing there and wanted to check in.”

  “Yes, it’s snowing a lot, but luckily I’m off the next two days so I’m safe inside.”

  “That’s why I was calling, to make sure you were okay.”

  “You’re not the first one who’s called to check on me this morning.”

  “Who else called, Adam?”

  She wished. “No, Justin.”

  “Caulfield?”

  “Yes, and it’s not the first time. I don’t know what he’s trying to prove, but I don’t want anything to do with him.”

  John didn’t immediately answer, which told her he wasn’t in total agreement.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Just don’t write him off without giving him a chance.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” she snapped.

  “Actually, it’s not,” John said. “His mother is responsible for Dad’s death, but he’s the one responsible for bringing her down. I have a lot of admiration for a man with that kind of moral strength.”

  Now she was the one without a comment.

  John sighed. “Change of subject, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you getting any flack from the community?”

  “I was, but I think it’s behind me.”

  “Oh hell, honey. I’m sorry you’re dealing with that on your own. You know if it gets to be too much you can pack up and move to Atlanta with me. My apartment is small, but we can always get a bigger one.”

  “No. This is home, and it’s over.”

  “What happened?”

  She hesitated to say anything, but knew if he ever talked to Aaron again, he was bound to find out, and then he would be mad she hadn’t told him.

  “I came home from work earlier in the week and found the house had been vandalized. Someone had painted the words rich bitch on the front of the house in red paint.”

  “Damn it! Did you call the police?”

  “No. I went across the street to Mr. Lewis and made him tell me what he saw. The descriptions he gave me fit those two stoners, Frankie and JoJo, perfectly. I got in the car and drove straight up to Millwood’s, which is where they hang out. They were there, sitting in the back of the store by the beer case and JoJo still had red paint on the ends of his fingers.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I kicked Frankie in the balls, stomped JoJos hands and popped him in the nose. After that, I proceeded to act like the Coal Town trash that I am and lit into both of them. I could tell by all the yelling they were doing that I was winning, too, until Aaron Coulter pulled me off.”

  John knew he shouldn’t laugh, but he couldn’t help it.

  “Oh my God, are you serious? Did you really do that?”

  “Yes. You know what they say about the last straw. That was it.”

  “What about the graffiti on the house?”

  “I scrubbed it off right down to the bare wood and when I came home from work the next day, someone had painted over it with white paint to try and help. Part of the paint is whiter than the rest, but it’s better than it was.”

  John sighed. “And this is supposed to relieve my mind.”

  “I’m a grown woman, Johnny. You drive your trucks. I will take care of myself and I’ll see you when I see you, okay?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, okay. Love you, little sister.”

  Poppy smiled. “Love you, too, Johnny.”

  ****

  Justin had a new DVD, a box of microwave popcorn and two cans of Dr. Pepper with him as he got on the hospital elevator. It was a good day to take his best girl to the movies. As he exited the car, he met Dr. Langley, Callie’s doctor, making rounds.

  “Hey, just the man I needed to see,” Langley said. “Got a minute?”

  “Always,” Justin said.

  Langley pointed toward the waiting room. “Let’s sit a bit while we talk. I haven’t been home since yesterday and my feet are killing me.”

  Justin followed him into the waiting room and sat down. Langley chose a chair beside him.

  “Good news,” he said. “Both Wade Tiller and his son Paul are the best candidates for a donor transplant for Callie. I’ve spoken to them, and it’s going to be Paul. Paul is twenty-one. He’s old enough to make his own decisions and Wade is forty-eight. Paul claims he’s going to be a priest and that God will make sure he doesn’t need but the one kidney, however I have to say that’s a remarkable family.”

  Justin beamed. “That’s wonderful news! When are you going to schedule it?”

  “It’ll take a few days to set up. I want to send her to Charleston for the transplant.”

  “Whatever, whenever, we’re at your disposal. Can I tell Callie?”

  “Of course, and before you go, there was one other thing I need to ask. It’s about the Tiller family.” />
  Justin held up a hand. “I’ll save you from trying to find a kind way to word it. I am well aware that Wade Tiller is Callie’s birth father and that his sons are her half-brothers. It’s why I went looking for them. Oh, and she knows it, too.”

  Langley nodded. “Well then, that’s all that needs to be said. I’ll call you as soon as the transplant team can schedule her in.”

  “Do you think it will be long?”

  “No, but I’ll let you know for sure later today.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Langley, for everything. Now I’m going to go give Callie the news.”

  Justin couldn’t quit smiling. Who knew it would take a blizzard to put their lives back on track?

  ****

  Poppy had skipped Sunday services again. She was trying not to let it become a habit, but the trust she’d once had for the members was still a little shaky. The streets in front of her house had not been plowed and she wasn’t in the mood to slide off in a ditch, or deal with any lingering attitudes. By noon, the weather front had shifted and snow was beginning to melt. Every so often a big chunk slid off the house with a plop, startling Poppy into thinking someone was stomping around outside.

  Disgusted with her jumpy attitude, she decided to put her energy into good use. By mid-afternoon she was in the middle of baking cookies when the phone began to ring.

  She set the timer so the pan in the oven wouldn’t burn then ran to answer, thinking it would be Mike. They’d been playing phone tag since yesterday.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello. Is this Poppy Sadler?”

  Poppy frowned. It wasn’t Mike. It sounded like a young girl.

  “Yes, this is Poppy.”

  “Hi, Poppy, this is your sister, Callie Caulfield.”

  Poppy gasped then realized Callie must have heard it because she began to talk very fast.

  “Please, please, don’t hang up. I really need to talk to you, okay?”

  “Does Justin know you’re calling me?”

  “No, and please don’t tell him. I just wanted to say how sorry I am that you hate us. I’ve always wanted a sister, and now that I have one, it’s sad she doesn’t want me.”

  This was weird. Poppy didn’t know how to talk her way out of this without hurting the girl’s feelings, but the truth was that she wished they didn’t exist.

  “Does your brother hate you?” Callie asked.

  The question was so ridiculous Poppy answered before she thought. “No, of course not. Why would he?”

  “Because your grandmother had his father killed.”

  The skin crawled on the back of Poppy’s neck. She’d never thought of what happened like that, and Callie was still talking.

  “The truth is that we’re the innocents who got caught in the middle of adult lies and crimes. When Daddy and your mother were young and in love, they didn’t mean to hurt each other. I don’t think they knew how to stand up to all those grownups, do you?”

  “I suppose not,” Poppy said.

  “My daddy is no more to blame for your father’s death than I am to blame for my Nana’s death. I keep thinking how much Daddy must have loved your mother to be willing to turn in his own mother for you.”

  “I know what he did,” Poppy said. “I was there. I heard everything that was said.”

  “Really?”

  Poppy sighed. “Yes, really.”

  “And your heart is still angry?”

  “I guess it is,” Poppy said. There was a moment of silence before she heard a long, drawn-out sigh.

  “Okay, I understand that you have to feel what you feel. People should never pretend to love someone they don’t. Just look what happened to us because of that.”

  Once again, Poppy was struck by her wisdom. “How old are you?”

  The bubble of enthusiasm came out in Callie’s answer. “I’m fourteen, almost fifteen but I’m small for my age. Oh, there’s one more thing I wanted to tell you.”

  “What?”

  “They’re flying me to Charleston tomorrow. I’m going to have a kidney transplant in a couple of days.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “Yes, but I have to face facts. A lot of things could go wrong. I might not make it through surgery, and I just wanted you to know what a special man our daddy is. I hope you find it in your heart to give him a chance, because if I die, not only will he be very sad, he’ll be alone.”

  Tears welled, but Poppy blinked them away. “I’m sure you’re going to be fine.”

  “I hope so,” Callie said, and then giggled. “Bye Poppy. Thank you for talking to me.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Poppy mumbled.

  The line clicked.

  The girl was gone.

  The timer went off.

  Cookies needed to come out of the oven.

  She hung up the phone and then got a potholder out of the drawer by the stove.

  It was strange how life worked. One minute you’re hating with every cell in your body and the next thing you know, WHAM! sideswiped by logic.

  She cried the rest of the way through the cookie baking and was trying to get herself together when the phone rang again.

  She started to let it go to voicemail then realized if it was Mike, they’d be doing that phone tag dance all over again. She swiped the tears off her face and then took a deep breath.

  “Hello.”

  Mike frowned. “Have you been crying?”

  Poppy sighed. “How do you know this stuff?”

  “I hear it in your voice. Is something wrong? If you need me I can be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  “It’s just been a long day,” she said. “I baked cookies.”

  “Please say you need me so I’ll have a good excuse to come sample them.”

  A slow smile spread across her face. “You can always come anyway.”

  “I called because I want to see you. I know I said I wanted to take you to Newport to eat steak, but I’d rather wait for better weather to make that drive.”

  “That’s okay. We can do it another time. I’m off work by 5:00 p.m. every day this coming week, and I’m off again next weekend.”

  “But in the meantime, who’s going to help you eat all those cookies?”

  Poppy laughed, and it felt good to be laughing, like sparklers were going off in her belly – making her all tingly and hot.

  “I guess that would be you,” Poppy said.

  “What if I bring take-out to your house and we eat the cookies for dessert?”

  “That would be great.”

  “Would you rather have barbeque, pizza, or Chinese?” he asked.

  “Chinese.”

  “My kind of woman! See you in about an hour?”

  “Okay.”

  This time when the line went dead, Poppy did a little dance, then stopped suddenly, feeling guilty that she’d felt joy when she was supposed to still be grieving. It took a few moments to remember Mama and Daddy would have been happy for her if they’d still been here, so she was going to be happy for herself.

  ****

  Two orders of Spring rolls, Sesame Chicken and fried rice later, Mike and Poppy had run out of polite conversation. He’d dreamed of this moment, being alone with her in this house. He wanted to kiss her. But there was propriety - and those damn cookies yet to be eaten.

  Poppy had removed the take-out boxes from the table and was pouring fresh coffee in their cups.

  “Cream or sugar?”

  “I’ll take you.”

  She sloshed coffee onto the table then quickly wiped it up. For a second she was certain she’d heard him wrong.

  “I’m sorry. What?”

  Mike stood up. “It’s like this, Poppy. You are driving me somewhat crazy.” He circled the table, slid one hand around her waist and the other behind her head. “Do you mind?”

  She blinked.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” he said softly, and kissed her.

  It lasted only a few seconds, but it was long to make him tr
y it again. The second time when he came up for air, he tilted her head a bit to the right, and then went in for the kill.

  That kiss put him somewhere in the red zone, which meant back off now before they both got burned.

  “Lord have mercy,” Mike said, and ran a thumb across her lower lip. “Do you know what I’m thinking?”

  Poppy felt like she was floating. “Probably, but I think for tonight, you need to satisfy your hunger with cookies.”

  Mike threw back his head and laughed, and once again, the sparklers went off in Poppy’s belly. This was going to be a good thing. She could feel it.

  And she’d been right.

  For Poppy, the ensuing month passed in a series of emotional mood swings. Even though phone calls from Justin had trickled down to what she referred to as a duty call once a week, she heard through the grapevine that Callie Caulfield’s kidney transplant had been a success. And there was Mike, patiently worming his way into her heart.

  ****

  It had been quite a while since Wade Tiller had an occasion to go to Charleston, but never for a reason as momentous as the one that brought him and his family here today.

  Somewhere beyond these walls, two of his children were having surgery and the thought of how many things that could go wrong was driving him quietly insane.

  He was still uncertain that giving in to the family’s insistence and letting Paul be the donor for Callie’s kidney had been the right move. Wade was the oldest and she was his daughter. It should have been his right. But that reason was also why he’d finally given in. Because she was his daughter, he wanted only the best for her, and a forty-eight year old kidney that he’d put through years of hard living and drinking was certainly not the best.

  He kept watching Justin Caulfield’s face, looking for anger, waiting for him to assess blame for all those years of deception, but it just wasn’t there. Deborah might not have loved Justin when she married him, but between the two of them, she had damn sure married the best man.