“What happened to the man that called his daughter and relied on her advice?”
“That was the odd thing. After the Tasha and Isaac betrayal, Marco called and apologized.”
“He apologized?”
“Yes, he was sorry for what happened and told me repeatedly how proud he was of my life. Our calls resumed, though not as frequently, but each time he’d emphasize he loved me.”
“And Karen?”
“Her contact was more infrequent, and she continued to push my participation in the campaign.”
“Contradictory actions.”
“Exactly, and I didn’t trust it. There was always a calculated dig aimed at me. My instincts were alert. I accepted a spot on a group traveling to Paris to study dance for the summer. During my years in school, I’d worked at a local dance studio. They gladly gave me more hours so I could save money. The rest of my semester, my time was spent in school and looking for ways to have complete financial independence. My grandparents left me a trust that came to me at twenty-two. That would help while I was in Paris.”
The knot in my gut unravels at her excitement.
“The draft came and, as expected, Isaac went in the first round. Tasha organized a party in North Carolina to celebrate. Of course, I was a no-show, going home and get anything out of their house that was valuable to me.”
“Nice.” I whistle low.
“They weren’t happy, but it was all about appearances. While at home, I met with Mrs. Canon and told her my plans. She was my emergency contact and had all my information. I went back to North Carolina, with everything falling into place. Graduation was approaching. Marco and Karen had already announced his run for the State Senate, so they planned a huge shindig for press purposes. This was a little more tricky.”
She swigs the last of the whiskey and sets the glass on the table. “I sold all my furniture, made plans to store my car, and knew I would not be walking across the stage on graduation. Marco and Karen showed a day early. I’d always been easy-going and strived to please growing up, so that’s who they expected to be waiting. They saw my empty apartment, my bags packed, and flipped. Karen lost her mind, but Marco was resigned. I gave them one more chance to be parents. Karen thought I was irrational and upset about Isaac. There was no breaking through. She didn’t see my point.
“Marco’s campaign manager was there and spotted disaster written all over the situation. He stepped in and offered me a high-paying position with the campaign to play along with the charade of a beautiful, happy family that would resonate with voters. I declined, knowing it was over.”
“Shit, they tried to bribe you?”
“Tried and failed.”
“How’d you get away? The political limelight seems to dive deep into politician’s lives. If your father was encompassing a campaign with strong family values, it would be hard to sell with his daughter missing from the picture.”
“As I mentioned, the campaign manager was smart. He knew my absence would generate tons of questions, and when I declined the position, he offered me another deal. If I agreed to a pre-taped interview and photo-op, he would do his best to keep my name out of the campaign. It was my last favor to all of them.”
“And Marco agreed?”
“He didn’t stop it. The campaign manager called in a local reporter for the interview. They pretended to be ecstatic about my pursuit of dance in Europe. We did the required photo-op. I got on a plane the next day and reinvented myself as Poppy Malone.”
“Reinvented?”
“Caitlyn Bindel was no more. I changed my name, moved all my bank accounts, and recreated myself out from under the thumb they thought they had on me. Complete independence. I didn’t want any part of that world.”
“You left your entire life behind?”
“I never gave it a second glance. Met Ryanne in Paris and we bonded. The rest is history.”
“You haven’t spoken to any of them since?”
“A few times early on. In moments of weakness, I’d take Karen’s calls. The last time we spoke was when I returned to the States and she thought my rebellion was over. She offered mental assistance. That was it.”
“Where did the name Poppy Malone come from?”
“My grandparents on my dad’s side. We were close. My grandfather was English and loved to tell us stories about growing up in Britain. I always found it fascinating, mostly because it made him and my grandmother happy to share. The Poppy flower has a deep significance in Britain. There are differing views on the meaning, but to my grandfather, it was respect, love, gratitude, and hope. He would call me Poppy often, and I cherished it. When I changed my name, there was no hesitation. Poppy Malone was in honor of them.”