by Tonya Kappes
“You know about that?” Aunt Pris’s eyes held a dark secret Harper felt like she was keeping.
“He showed up at Pine Crest and picked me up,” Poppy whispered. “How else do you think I got here?”
“Okay, ladies!” A woman in a black smock smacked her hands together, rubbing them. “I’m Iris. I’m gonna do your hair while Elizabeth soothes it over with Billie Ann. Let’s get this hair fixed.” She set the bowl of hair dye with the applicator brush sticking up in Poppy’s hands. “Now you hold that while I work around your head.”
“Are you sure you know how to dye my hair back to black?” Poppy jerked back. She certainly never recalled holding her own bowl at the spa.
“Well, I’m just out of beauty school.” Iris smiled, her right front tooth overlapping the left front one just a bit.
“How just out of school?” Poppy questioned.
“Last night.” Iris grabbed the brush and plopped a big blob of dye right in the middle of Poppy’s head. “It’s easy. Just brush it in. That’s what Elizabeth taught me.” She brushed and plopped and brushed some more. Even if Poppy wanted to protest, she couldn’t. It was already too late. Iris had started; Poppy might as well let her finish.
Aunt Pris’s head was flipped over, upside down with her hair dangling over, as the hairdresser blew her hair dry.
After Iris shampooed the color our of Poppy’s hair, she watched as clumps of her hair floated past her peripheral vision, thinking it was a lot for a trim. It was just hair, or so Poppy thought, until she looked up in the mirror and saw Iris had cut off all of Poppy’s long hair to a chin-length bob.
“Oh my God!” Poppy’s hand grabbed the edges of her coal black, now short hair.
“Ya like it, don’t ya?” Iris’s face was full of pride. Iris gripped the handle of the hair dryer like she was ready for a gun slinging. “Here, let me blow ya dry.”
“Elizabeth!” Poppy screamed at the top of her lungs. “Elizabeth! Get out here, now!”
Poppy had been so busy catching up with her Aunt Pris, she hadn’t even known Iris was cutting all her hair off.
“Honey, it’s gonna be all right.” Aunt Pris patted her hand. Poppy’s eyes filled with tears. “Now don’t go getting all catawampus. It’ll be fine.”
“It’s not fine!” Poppy seethed through gritted teeth and streaming tears.
“Shhh.” Aunt Pris leaned way over for just her ears and whispered, “Remember you just got out of Pine Crest. Let’s keep it thataway.”
Elizabeth appeared from behind the curtain. As she got closer to Poppy, she pulled out a folded-up magazine from under her armpit.
“Everyone, Poppy here has the newest, hot-off-the-presses, latest Tupperware catalog and haircut.” She stuck it in Poppy’s face. Tupperware was like china to the women of Hudson Hollow and made everyone happy.
If she thought using Tupperware was going to smooth things over with Poppy, Elizabeth had another thing coming.
“Y’all tell your friends to come in and get the famous Poppy cut.” Elizabeth looked at Poppy and winked. “I’m telling you, the phones will be ringing off the hook when people hear about that new cut, Poppy Bailey.”
“My hair is gone.” Poppy was having a hard time closing her dropped jaw. It was locked in the down jutted position.
“I love it. The Poppy.” Elizabeth nodded and looked around, nodding to everyone’s eye she caught, forcing them to nod their heads too. The entire Hair Depot was a bunch of women bobbing their heads like they were in a bobblehead factory.
“Love it?” Poppy asked. “I don’t care that you love it. I didn’t ask for my hair to be cut. I asked for a color.”
“Honey, no offensive, but you had more than color issues.” Elizabeth ran the tips of her fingers through Poppy’s hair. “See, all the dead stuff has been cut off.” She used her toe to push around all of Poppy’s cut hair strewn all over the floor. “Now you can be Poppy Bailey again.”
“Poppy, honey, don’t forget your raisings.” Her Aunt Pris reached over and handed her a Tupperware magazine, reminding Poppy that she was no better than the rest of the women in the Hair Depot. They all came from the same place.
“All the new items are like going back to the sixties or something with their design, like these. Hold that up, Poppy.” Elizabeth instructed Poppy to hold up the Tupperware magazine and Poppy held it up in front of her. “Those salt and pepper shakers are in the hourglass shape with the plastic flip-top lids like they had when my mama was a kid.”
“I think I still have some of those,” Aunt Pris cackled.
“Poppy, you look at it a while and then pass it down after you write on the sticky note on the back what you want. I’m sure you’ll find some things you need for the farm.” Elizabeth wasn’t going to let Poppy just pass the catalog along without her buying something. “Plus you got all that money to spend with that new radio gig.”
Poppy’s lips drew into a thin smile and wrote down an order of the freezable Popsicle forms on the sticky note like Elizabeth had instructed. The freezable Popsicle thingies were something she could use on hot Kentucky nights. She passed the Tupperware magazine along to Aunt Pris.
“Put in your order today and I’ll have it for you when you come by the house for the bridal tea this Thursday night.” Elizabeth looked at Poppy. “You are more than welcome to come if you are in town.”
“I don’t think I’ll be here that long, but I’ll be sure to put it on my calendar.” Poppy hadn’t planned on being around, and she certainly wasn’t going to go to Elizabeth’s mama’s house to look at a bunch of wedding gifts when her own marriage had crumbled. “So you’re getting married soon?” Noting that if the bridal tea was this Thursday that meant the wedding was following soon after.
“Couple weeks,” Elizabeth said vaguely. Poppy couldn’t help but notice that Elizabeth wasn’t ecstatic with joy and her voice was flat. “I expect you to be there with a big expensive present.” She winked at Poppy.
When Poppy got married to Rob, she’d combined all her money with his, thinking it was theirs, not even worried about the prenuptial agreement she’d signed without a lawyer looking it over. Over the past couple of days, he’d clearly let her know it was his and she was going to have to go back to him to get it.
Poppy looked at her reflection in the mirror one more time, still shocked at how different she was with black shorter hair. It’d been years since she’d had black hair. One upside was that if someone from the media saw her now, they wouldn’t recognize her at all.
“Aunt Pris?” Poppy momentarily forgot about her hair.
“Yes, sugar?” Aunt Pris was busy dog-earing the Tupperware pages.
“Do you think I can pick your brain about my impending divorce?” The word felt like one of those hot fire balls had been put in her mouth. She’d never thought of the word, much less be doing it.
“Dee-vorce?” Aunt Pris asked, her voice escalating. “Oh, sugar. You are gonna kill your mama and daddy after all.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Here, cat,” Poppy yelled for the stray cat when she got out of the Mustang. She shook the bag of kibble to try to entice the feline. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.”
She groaned when she realized the old kitty, kitty trick wasn’t working and went inside.
Aunt Pris hadn’t said much while Poppy was at the Hair Depot. Poppy knew Aunt Pris would be a good person to get advice from. She’d always been a voice of reason when Poppy wasn’t reasonable.
Aunt Pris had left the Hair Depot while Elizabeth had Poppy at the manicure desk, giving her a free manicure for being such a good sport for what Elizabeth called “miscommunication” about the new haircut. Poppy had decided it was just hair and had Elizabeth paint her nails a faint pink, almost the color of her natural nail.
Poppy loved getting her nails done and having them look nice, but she also had a to-do list a mile long that required hot, sudsy water and scrubbing. Not to mention digging in the dirt to get the gardens back t
o where they could at least look decent.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” Poppy called from the front porch and looked around, giving the cat one last chance to come in. The bags from Walmart were piled from her wrist to her elbow.
Giving up on the cat, she went into the house, happy to see the sun shining through the windows. She put the groceries on the counter.
A faint meow caught her attention. She walked over to the hallway. Two little pointy ears barely popped over the edge of the front screen door.
“There you are.” Poppy smiled at the cat, both of them unsure of the other. She walked back down the hall and opened the creaky door. The cat shot into the house like a cannon. “Where are you going?”
Poppy ran after the feline, who darted up the stairs that led up to the bedrooms. The only bedroom door that wasn’t shut was to the room Poppy always slept in. The one across the hall from the bathroom. It was perfect. The Coach would leave the bathroom light on because he said he liked to see where he needed to go in case nature called, but Poppy knew better.
The Coach had his own bathroom in his room and Poppy went along with the tale, knowing good and well the light was for her to feel safe in the dark in case she woke up at night. It was so much darker in the country. The only light around came from the moon and the stars above.
“Where did you go?” Poppy stepped into the bedroom. The white eyelet bed skirt swayed back and forth.
Suddenly, Poppy doubled-checked her memory. “Brett.” His name felt like a feather tickling her lips as it escaped her mouth.
She ran to the bed and fell to her knees. Grabbing the edges of the bed skirt, she lifted it up.
“Brett.” The Christmas before she’d left Hudson Hollow, he had given her a pack of six flashlights for a present and she had stuck them under the bed for quick retrieval.
She grabbed the unopened plastic package with all different size flashlights and pulled them out, ignoring the cat hunched underneath the bed near the headboard legs. “Coming to my rescue yet again.”
Many times Poppy had called Brett when she was in a pinch or upset with her parents. She had come to rely on him too much by the time she was a senior in high school. Her heart dipped. She sat cross-legged facing the bed with the pack of flashlights in her lap. The tug of the small town tickled her insides, just below her rib cage, a direct link to her tear ducts. Tears trembled on her eyelids.
It was the same feeling she’d had the summer she left Hudson Hollow. She’d felt like she was drowning. Fighting against the current of destiny. Her heart longed for the hustle and bustle of the big city life she’d seen in the movies, but the path she was on was one in a small town. Now the same feeling was creeping back into her soul, but it was not attached to big city life.
“Stop it.” She shook her head, trying to shake out the memory of how she had hurt Brett and her family so long ago.
They were adults now. They had different lives. Surely Brett had a wife. A family. She was only passing through and sure she wouldn’t see him while here in Hudson Hollow.
Poppy swallowed back the tears and ran her hand down the bed skirt and took the flashlights down to the kitchen, not worried about the cat. It would come out when it was ready and would find the plate of food Poppy stuck next to the kitchen table.
In one of the drawers in the kitchen, she found a steak knife and cut the plastic package open, retrieving one of the flashlights and the unopened battery pack that was included. She loaded the batteries and slide the On button to the On position, letting out a little sigh of relief when the circular light beamed from the device.
Happily, she walked down into the basement and over to the electrical panel, turning off and on the breakers until she was satisfied she’d gotten them all. On her way up the stairs, she saw the Coach’s shotgun propped up in the corner. She’d shot the thing several times. Many nights had been spent shooting at the water-filled milk jugs. It was a normal pastime for teens in Hudson Hollow. She took the shotgun upstairs with her.
After safely returning upstairs to the kitchen, she turned off the flashlight and stuck it on the windowsill so she’d know where it was in case she needed it again.
“Go put it on the windowsill so we know where it’s at when we need it,” the Coach would instruct her. Everything went on the windowsill. And he was right. When they needed something, it was right there.
Here it goes. Poppy crossed her fingers and closed her eyes before she flipped the light switch on. A little yelp of joy escaped her when the small hurricane globes of the old five-armed brass chandelier glowed. I knew it. She was pleased with herself, giving herself a little more confidence. She twirled around the kitchen. Dusty old house, beware. She giggled with each turn. I’m going to bring you back to life.
Chapter Fourteen
The old transistor radio belted out a mix of classic and new country from HH FM.
Poppy opened all the windows and let the cool, hint-of-fall breeze float through the window to help air out the house. She kept her mind busy as she stripped the sheets off the three beds and threw them in the washing machine before hanging them out to dry on the clothesline stretched between two tall oaks in the backyard.
The cat would come out of hiding every once in a while. Each of them would stare at the other.
Between loads of laundry, Poppy dusted the furniture and swept the floors to bring the Coach’s house back to life. Little did she realize she was dusting off the memories that went with it.
A hint of an earthy, fresh rain smell caused her to look off into the distance. The makings of a late afternoon or an early evening rain shower made for a mental note to check on the sheets and bring them in well before the skies opened up.
The plate of cat kibble was half-eaten when she walked back into the kitchen to get a glass of the sweet sun tea sitting on the windowsill next to the flashlight. She made it exactly how the Coach had told her.
She had found the same glass pitcher the Coach had used so many times. She filled the two-gallon pitcher up and added six tea bags, along with two cups of sugar—the real stuff—before she slowly stirred it and stuck it on the windowsill. The sun was burning hot and Poppy could feel the comfort bubbling up in her, thinking how good it was going to taste as she sat in the rocker on the front porch and looked out over the lake, waiting for the arrival of the rain, after she attempted to cut the grass.
The boat dock was going to be last on her list because it held the most memories of Brett. Memories she definitely didn’t need, especially at this time in her life. Because her hair was clean, she decided to wait for the long soaker bath until after she cut the grass and did a little garden weeding. She was holding out hope that there would be some fresh veggies she could take to the Coach when she went to see him that night.
The tractor fired right on up. The Coach had always taken good care of his things. He’d always told her to keep things tuned up and they’d run forever. Her heart ached when she sat down on the cushion of the tractor and curled her fingers around the wheel. Just as if it were yesterday, she could visualize her hands on top of his as she sat on his lap and helped him cut the grass while Mama prepared a home-cooked meal of fried corn bread, fried skillet corn, cowboy beans, cut onions from the garden, and a big pitcher of her sweet ice tea.
Poppy’s mouth watered thinking about it. She hadn’t let herself eat any fried food in years. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat when she realized she hadn’t let these memories creep into her veins in years either, making her wonder if it wasn’t the food she craved but her old life in Hudson Hollow.
She sucked in a deep breath, causing the tears to recede, and threw the gearshift in drive, let down the mower blade, and let herself escape into the warmth of the sun beaming down on her as she got lost in the sound of the buzz of the tractor.
Poppy noticed the stray cat stayed on the covered porch but followed the mower as Poppy cut the grass around the old farmhouse. The rain clouds were still approaching and she only h
ad another hour or so before they set in. She only had time to cut the grass around the house.
Cutting the field was altogether its own beast and would require the bush hog, something she’d have to talk to the Coach about. Trying to find the right person around here would probably be his choice. Plus he’d probably let them keep the hay.
Just like the Coach, Poppy took the barn hose and cleaned the tractor off before parking it back in its spot. Everything had a spot, he would tell her, and she would make him happy if he could see her now, doing exactly as he would be doing if he were here.
She glanced up at the kitchen windowsill; the color of the tea was still a little too light, not the burnt orange that told her it was ready.
I’ve got a little bit. Poppy shrugged, looking beyond the lake where the cloud was moving faster.
She grabbed the gardening gloves off the bench and the five-gallon bucket of gardening tools the Coach used to weed the flower beds that ran along the house and the electric weed eater sitting next to it.
Carrying both up to the house, she set them in front of the steps where the paver she’d made so many years ago was buried under the weeds. She plugged the weed whacker in one of the outlets and it started right up, just like she knew it would. She was on limited time and wanted to get as much done as she could.
She spent the next half hour cutting down the weeds and edging along the flower bed that ran the full circumference of the house, giving her a better appreciation for all the work not only her papaw had put into making the farmhouse a beautiful home but her parents as well. The weekends were the only free time her parents generally had, so they were spent helping around the farm.
Poppy stood up, brushed the sweat off her brow with the backside of the glove, and looked around. She’d barely put a dent into the yard work when the first raindrop plopped down on the tin roof of the porch, followed up by a couple more plink, plinks before the sky opened up.