by Sharon Sala
“No. I’m sure she’s not. She’s actually a very nice person and would never blame you.”
“Do you think I might meet her some day? I mean, she’s my sister, right? I should know my sister.”
“I think that’s a good plan and something we will work toward. Right now I just need you to know you and I are good. We’re as good as a Dad and his daughter can be. I think you’re amazing and so brave. I don’t want you second-guessing yourself about any of this mess, okay? These are all mistakes that grown-ups made. You just had the misfortune to be related to us.”
She frowned. “Don’t say that. You’re not a mistake. You’re very brave, too. You helped Poppy just like you’re helping me. That’s what good daddies do.”
Justin wanted to cry all over again. Instead, he gave her a big hug.
“Thank you, baby. That kind of praise will take me a long way down the road.”
“You’re not going anywhere are you?”
He tilted her chin until he saw his reflection in the tears in her eyes and made himself smile.
“Nope. You’re stuck with me forever and ever.”
The door swung open. A nurse entered, carrying a tray.
“Looks like lunch is here,” he said.
“Glad to see our favorite patient is awake,” the nurse said. “You’ll like what’s on your tray today.”
“Is it chicken something?” Callie asked, swiping at her tears.
The nurse nodded. “Yes, and I swear if you eat much more of the stuff you’ll grow feathers.”
Callie giggled and Justin smiled. Thank God for the resilience of youth. The sound was balm to an aching heart.
“So, now that you have food to eat, I’m going to go back to the apartment, shower and change into some clean clothes, okay? I won’t be gone more than a couple of hours. You’ll be all right until then, won’t you, honey?”
“Yes, but when you come back, can we play Uno?”
“Yes, we will play Uno. See you soon.”
He nodded at the nurse who was getting Callie settled and headed for the elevator. His phone beeped as he stepped inside. It was a text from the P.I.
Wade Lee Tiller located. Details sent via email.
He sent back a brief text. This wasn’t bad news. In fact it was good. It hadn’t taken long to find him, which was what he wanted – what he needed for Callie. He wouldn’t think about the new wave of sadness washing through him. He couldn’t be concerned with how this could impact the future of their relationship. This was about saving her life. He’d worry later about having to share her with another man to make it happen.
Chapter Twenty-Two
As soon as John got the family car out of police impound, he took it to be detailed. It was cleaner now than it had been in years, even the black fender on the blue chassis was shining in lowly splendor. There wasn’t a single remnant left inside to mark the thieves who’d stolen it, or the man who’d abandoned it as he was being murdered. A man from the detail shop followed John home in it, then handed over the keys and left with his ride back to the shop.
John entered the house with purpose, calling her name.
“Poppy! Hey Poppy!”
She came out of their parents’ bedroom, her hair in a tangle with dust on her clothes.
“I’m here. What’s up?”
He presented the keys to her with a flourish. “You are no longer afoot, little sister. It’s clean, shiny, and full of gas.”
Poppy smiled. “Thank you, Johnny.”
“You’re welcome.” He swiped a finger down the bridge of her nose. “You’re also dusty.”
“I’m packing their clothes to take to Goodwill. Did you talk Mr. Epperson at the funeral home?”
“Yes. The police released Dad’s body to the funeral home today. I guess they’ll call and tell us what to do.”
And just like that the mood in the room shifted. “I know what they’ll want.”
“I guess you do. You had all that to do by yourself before, didn’t you?”
Poppy wasn’t going to go there. John dwelled on his guilt trip enough for both of them.
“Daddy didn’t have a suit, but he had his khaki pants and that brown sports jacket.”
“That will work,” John said. “He needs to look like himself, not a banker.”
“Pastor Harvard came by while you were gone.”
John eyed the closed expression on her face. “And?”
“He offered to pray for me since it seems I have become the catalyst for the tragedy that brought about Daddy’s death.”
“You’re kidding me. He did not say that.”
“Not in so many words, but it felt like what he meant.”
“Well damn it, sister. I’m sorry.”
“It’s what I expected, so it’s not exactly a shock. Do you know if there’s any more of that packing tape in the utility room? I needed to seal up the last two boxes and ran out.”
“I’ll check,” John muttered, still pissed on Poppy’s behalf.
A few minutes later he came back with a new roll.
“Last one,” he said. “Which boxes are ready to go?”
She pointed.
He sealed them up and then shoved them against the wall with the others.
“How much do you have left to do?”
“About one more box to fill and then all the drawers and the closet will be empty.”
John felt a little uneasy as he looked around the room. It felt like they were trespassing, and that his dad could come in at any minute demanding to know what the hell they were doing with his things. A wave of sadness washed through him, but he pushed it away.
“What are you going to do with the room?”
She dumped the last armload of clothing onto the bed and then stepped back, giving the room a sweeping glance.
“I’ve been thinking about taking this room for my own. It’s a lot larger than mine. Maybe paint the walls and put some new curtains on the windows.”
John frowned. “You wouldn’t mind... being in here, I mean?”
Poppy looked surprised. “No. Why would I? Neither of them died in this room, although I think maybe Great-Grandpa Roberts might have, but that kind of stuff doesn’t bother me. I’m not afraid of the dead. It’s the living who is dangerous.”
John’s frown deepened. “Are you going to be scared to live here alone?”
“No, of course not and that’s not what I meant.”
“I don’t want to think about driving all over the country while you’re here alone and scared out of your mind.”
“I’ll be fine. Give me a few minutes to box this up and then I’ll fix lunch.”
“You finish here. I’ll make us something to eat.”
“Okay,” she said, and kept on working.
A short while later she went across the hall to clean up, then darted into her room long enough to put on a clean t-shirt. As she was coming up the hall, she heard a car pull up into their drive, then a knock at the door. She glanced out the window as she went to answer.
It was the police.
“Mike?”
“Hey, Poppy, sorry I didn’t call first. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure. Come in. Johnny’s making sandwiches. Are you hungry?”
Mike wouldn’t have turned down the invitation to save his soul.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. Hey, Johnny!”
John appeared in the doorway. “Mike! How’s it going?”
Mike shrugged. “Okay. We’re still dealing with the fall-out from yesterday. That arrest wasn’t our finest hour.”
“I had no problem with it,” John said.
“I get where you’re coming from. At any rate it’s over, which is the most important thing. Oh! The invitation to eat almost made me forget why I came.” He handed Poppy the large brown envelope he was carrying. “These are your father’s effects. I need you to sign the sheet that’s on it.” He handed her a pen.
She signed the paper.
He took it off the envelope, folded it and put it in his pocket, then handed it to her.
It was somewhat shocking to be holding what they’d taken off his dead body, but she wouldn’t let herself go there just yet. She dreaded what might be inside – that they would find something more that would rock their world. Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to look at it now. She laid it on the end of the sofa and followed the men into the kitchen.
“Beer or Pepsi?” John asked, as he opened the fridge.
“I’m still on duty, so we better make it a Pepsi. Anything I can do to help?” Mike asked.
“Nah, I got it,” John said. “You guys take a seat.”
“I’ll do the glasses,” Poppy said.
“It’s ham and cheese. Do you want mustard or mayo, Mike?”
“Mustard’s good,” he said.
“Remember, both for me,” Poppy said.
Mike grinned. “You like mustard and mayo on your sandwiches?”
John poked a finger at Poppy in jest. “She sure does. When she was little she never could make up her mind. For a joke once Mom put both. The joke backfired. Poppy loved it and we’ve done them that way ever since.”
Poppy shrugged. “So I’m a little bit weird, so what?”
“I’d say unique, and that’s always good,” Mike said.
John slid plates in front of Mike and Poppy and pointed to the bag of chips. “Help yourself.”
“None for me,” Poppy said.
They ate in easy silence for a few moments until John caught a look on Mike’s face that made him smile. The cop had a crush on his sister. It would be great if Poppy returned the feelings. It would make going back to Atlanta a lot easier knowing there was someone he trusted who would be around when she needed help.
They were almost through when Mike’s cell beeped. He glanced down at the text and then sighed.
“Duty calls. Thanks so much for the food,” he said, and got up.
Poppy followed him to the door. “Thank you for bringing Daddy’s things by.”
“You’re welcome.”
She followed him out onto the porch, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound stupid. Then he stopped and looked back.
“I know John will go back to Atlanta soon. You know you can call me anytime if the need arises.”
She smiled. “Thank you. That’s a good thing to know.”
Mike was all the way off the steps before he stopped again.
“Someday when you’re feeling better, maybe we could drive over to Newport. They have a really good steakhouse. If you like steak, that is.”
A wave of quiet joy slid through her. “I like steak.”
“Great! That’s just great. So I’ll be seeing you.”
“Yes.”
And then he was gone.
Mike was still grinning when he crossed the bridge over the Little Man.
Poppy didn’t mention the invitation to John when she went back inside. She knew he’d haze her about it non-stop until she went and she wasn’t ready. Not yet, but soon. Definitely soon.
John had already dumped the contents of the envelope onto the card table and was sitting on the sofa going through them. He had tears in his eyes, but he was smiling when he saw her come in.
“Look at this. It’s water-damaged, but you can still tell it’s us.”
Poppy sat down to look at the pictures he’d found in their dad’s wallet. There was one of Helen leaning against the car with a big smile on her face, and another one of Poppy and Johnny eating watermelon on the front porch.
“Oh, my gosh! That one is so old. I couldn’t have been more than nine or ten, and look at your hair,” Poppy said.
“Hey, I was rockin’ that mullet.”
She looked up, and then out the window to the bird that just lit on the porch and wondered what it would be like to pick up and fly away from trouble.
“Johnny?”
“Yeah?”
“I wish I knew how Daddy felt about me after he learned I wasn’t his.”
John slid an arm around her shoulder. “But Poppy, you were his. You still are his. Just because he wasn’t the sperm donor, does not nullify the years and love he gave to both of us. He was probably shocked, but he wouldn’t have felt a bit different about you. If anything, he would have been afraid once you found out, you might want the rich man, instead of an out-of-work miner.”
“Do you think?” Poppy whispered.
“I know,” John said. “Now stop talking like that. Give the old man some credit.”
“So okay, you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right because I’m older and smarter and I’m the man.”
She punched him on the arm, but her mood had shifted.
“Is there anything else in the stuff that we can save?”
“The watch isn’t waterproof. It stopped at 11:47, which is probably when he hit the water.”
“Oh my God.”
“Is it okay with you if I take this with me?”
She shivered. “Yes. I don’t want the reminder. Why would you?”
“To remind me how precious life is and not to waste another day I’m still living it.”
Poppy sat back, eyeing her brother thoughtfully. There was more to him than met the eye.
“That’s good, Johnny. He would like that.”
John nodded. He was trying hard not to break down and bawl. It wouldn’t do either of them any good, and he was so damn weary of being sad.
****
Justin wasted no time after locating Callie’s birth father. Reading Tiller’s background had been a relief. The man’s record was clean - no arrests - no black marks of any kind against his name. According to the investigator’s report, he owned a paint and body shop called Tiller and Sons, and had been divorced about ten years. Not so good for Tiller, but great news for Justin. There would be no wife in the wings to get pissed-off about an illegitimate child.
Justin was pulling out all the stops to make sure Tiller didn’t say no when he confronted him. He was taking pictures of Callie and Deborah, as well as pictures of Callie at different ages - in her soccer uniform – at her thirteenth birthday party – and the latest ones of her in the hospital, including the one he’d taken with his cell phone last night, sitting in the hospital bed holding her favorite stuffed bear and surrounded by angel figurines. He would bare his soul to get her that transplant.
He’d contacted one of Callie’s old babysitters, a retired teacher named Patricia Wayne, to spend time with Callie while he was on the road. Callie had no idea why he was leaving, only that he’d be back the next day, and she was excited to see Miss Patty again.
Now all he had to do was sleep – an impossible task. The bed in the apartment wasn’t as comfortable as his bed back home, but the library was still being cleaned. Apparently it wasn’t easy to get blood off of furniture and floors.
He fell asleep on the sofa watching the late-night news. When he woke up it was morning and the phone was ringing. He answered before his eyes were fully open just so he wouldn’t have to hear it ring again.
“Justin Caulfield.”
“Mr. Caulfield, this is Truman Epperson. I’m sorry to bother you, but we don’t know what you want done about Mr. Newton.”
Justin sat up, struggling to gather his thoughts. “You picked up his body, too?”
“Yes. Were we not supposed to?”
“No. Surely he has next of kin somewhere. I’ll have Frances get that information to you, although I would have thought the police made those notifications.”
“They told us he had no next of kin and there was no one to claim the body.”
Justin’s eyes suddenly narrowed. “Cremate him. Send me the bill and save his ashes.”
“Yes sir. Thank you, sir. Sorry to bother you.”
The call ended.
Justin glanced at the clock. It was already after 8:00 a.m. Time to get moving. Tiller lived in Clarksburg, which was a three-hour drive f
rom Caulfield. With luck, he’d be there by noon.
****
It was just after twelve when Justin pulled up to the office of Tiller and Sons and parked. The building was neatly painted – white with red trim – and the area surrounding it had been enclosed by an eight foot privacy fence. Both garage doors were open with people working inside. On the surface, it appeared to be a thriving business.
He grabbed the envelope with Callie’s pictures as he got out. The sun was warm on his face, even though the air verged on cold – a reminder that fall was here and winter not far behind.
As he started toward the office, two tall young men in their mid-to-late twenties walked out. From their matching strides to the white-blonde hair and blue eyes, it was obvious they were brothers. When they saw him, they stopped. One turned and politely stepped back and opened the door for him.
“Welcome to Tiller and Sons.”
“Thanks,” Justin said. “Are you one of the sons?”
The young man smiled. “Yes sir. I’m Hank, this is my brother, Ben. There are two more of us, but we’re the cream of the crop.”
Ben laughed, which made Justin smile. He’d always imagined what it would be like to be part of a big family. They were lucky.
Hank eyed Justin’s car. “I’m not seeing a dent or a scratch on that fine Lexus you rolled up in, so how can we help you?”
“I’m looking for Wade Lee Tiller. Is he your father?”
The smile slid off Hank’s face. “What are you, a process server?”
“No, no, nothing like that. It’s personal business.”
“What’s your name?”
Justin pulled a card from his pocket. “Justin Caulfield, of Caulfield Industries.”
The congeniality shifted to a protective formality. “Have a seat,” Hank said, and left the office through a back door while Ben stood guard.
Justin wondered how they would feel once they learned they had a sister. Would they still want to throw him to the curb, or even worse, try to claim custody? They wouldn’t win, but the notoriety would destroy her.
Justin scanned his phone for text messages while he waited. There were none. God bless Frances for standing between him and the chaos he’d left behind.