Theresa reached out and touched her arm, causing Junie’s attention to be drawn to what she had to say. “Junie, you can’t climb into Brian’s head. You don’t know what he feels, or what he felt, or even what he’s repressed. To him, that initial anger and the reminder that you carried as a child, might have changed to a happier reminder, or it could have disappeared altogether. There’s no way to know without talking to Brian directly, and even then, he might not understand what it all means, or what he feels.” Theresa looked at Sarah. “In fact, he might be angry at Sarah for changing because in his mind, the reality that he can’t protect those he loves might be coming back to haunt him.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Junie wasn’t sure if talking with Theresa helped her see things more clearly or if they confused her even more. On one hand, the idea of Brian seeing Sarah’s changes as just another person he couldn’t protect made total sense, but when she tore it apart, shredded his actions to get to the innards of the issues, something still didn’t feel right. She had no idea what to believe. What if he’d married Junie for some warped reason, like to remind him of Ellen, to keep him close to her? Junie was so confused that her thoughts felt like Jell-O in water, slowly tearing apart, becoming transparent, until they were indiscernible.
Junie stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around her body. There was only one way to find out. She dressed in a nightshirt, checked on Sarah, fast asleep on dry sheets, and went downstairs to wait for Brian to return from the office. She wondered if she’d ever get used to his working until nine or ten at night, and she hoped that was all he was doing.
The click of the dead bolt woke Junie from where she dozed on the couch. She glanced at the clock, eleven thirty. She listened to Brian’s footsteps as he neared the kitchen, passing right by the living room. She sat up, listening not out of mistrust, but out of curiosity. He used to head straight upstairs, having missed Junie while they were apart. She heard him leaf through the newspaper, fill a glass of water, and eventually, walk back toward the stairs. As the moments passed, she grew agitated. When did he stop going directly upstairs to see her? Why did he? How could they have let their relationship slip away?
“Brian?” she called softly, fiddling with the blanket that lay across her lap.
“Junie?” He came into the living room and flicked on the light. “What are you doing down here in the dark?”
His accusatory tone bothered her. She had a right to wait up for her husband, didn’t she? “Waiting for you.” It came out sounding snippy, which hadn’t been her intention.
“Is everything okay?”
Junie was wide awake now and suddenly feeling very combative. “Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you.”
Brian sighed, grating on Junie’s already irritated nerves.
“You’re home so late?”
“Big case, you know that.” He sat in an armchair and removed his tie. “I’m beat. What’s up?”
“I talked with Theresa today.”
“And?”
Junie resented his hurrying her. She was his wife, and she’d seen him for only a few minutes each day for the past month, not to mention having lost her father. Her blood simmered. “And she got me thinking about everything, about us.” How the hell can I phrase this without him walking away?
“I told you that I’m not having an affair,” he snapped.
“I don’t think you are.” Do I?
“What then?” Brian sat back, crossed his arms.
“Do I remind you of Ellen?” She held her breath.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He stood, as if to dismiss her.
“Brian, sit down, please. I just want to talk to you.”
“About my dead sister. Why is it always about my dead sister lately?”
Junie was on her feet, fueled by anger. “How can you say that? You don’t know she’s dead. It’s like you’ve given up on her.”
“I have.” His nostrils flared.
They stared each other down like angry dogs. Until finally Junie said, “Yeah, well, I haven’t. But that’s not even what I want to talk to you about.”
“Then what the hell is it? I’m tired, and I have to be back at work in six hours. I don’t have time for this nonsense.”
His words shot through her heart like an arrow. “Nonsense? Your wife needs to talk to you and you call it nonsense? Well, I’m sorry I’m not one of your damned clients, Brian, but there are a few things I need to know.” She crossed her arms to stop them from trembling. “When you look at me, do I remind you of Ellen—good or bad—in any way?”
Brian’s jaw clenched. “You’re crazy. Why are you even asking me this?”
“I’m not crazy. I just need to know.”
“No, you don’t remind me of my freakin’ sister, okay? Not at all—until you bring her up; then, yes, you are like a beacon with her face on it.”
Junie nodded, holding back tears. “When you see Sarah, do you see Ellen?”
“Junie.” He turned his back.
“Do you?” she said through her breaking heart. Please say no.
He spun back around, fire in his eyes. “You have no idea what it’s like. My family is falling apart and it’s my fault.”
Junie felt as if she’d been kicked in the gut. “It’s not your fault. Sarah’s regression has nothing to do with you.”
“Junie,” he said, his eyes damp. “I think you should take Sarah and stay with your mother for a while.”
Junie’s voice was caught beneath a giant lump in her throat. “What? Why?”
Brian shook his head.
“Why?” she yelled. “The last time you treated me this way was when Ellen disappeared.”
Brian looked up at her.
“That’s right. I remembered. You chased me away, just like you are now.”
Brian picked up his tie and headed for the stairs.
“Brian, don’t walk away from me.”
“Junie, just go. Please. I can’t deal with this right now.”
“Deal with this? This is your life, Brian.”
“No, this is you trying to dredge up our past, not live our current lives.”
Junie’s lower lip trembled. How could they ever move beyond this moment if Brian was neither ready nor willing to deal with the past or help Junie to understand it?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Junie had slept on the couch and woken up when Brian left for work. She checked on Sarah, fast asleep on wet sheets, and decided it wasn’t worth waking her. She’d bathe her after she called the babysitter.
Her eyes stung from crying herself to sleep, and she could feel the puffiness that remained. She had to make a decision by the time Brian came home; that much was clear. That gave her several hours to figure out if she should go back to her mother’s or beg for forgiveness. She was leaning toward her mother’s.
Shane carried a cup of coffee to the table where Junie sat, red faced and exhausted. He’d brushed back his hair, though it was so thick it still bubbled up in places. Shane wasn’t what one would call lanky, but he was tall and his limbs were long. He was soft without being pudgy. Shane was comfortable. That’s the word that seemed to fit his build, and Junie warmed at that comfort as he approached.
“Thanks.” She feigned a smile.
“Tell me what I can do.” Shane, her foothold to reality, offered strength when her husband could not. Junie felt guilty, leaning on him for support when she should be leaning on her husband, but she had nowhere else to go.
She shook her head. “There’s nothing. I just needed to be here, I guess, to figure things out.”
“So, you said the therapist thought Brian was somehow linking you to his memories of Ellen, like he married you to feel less bad about her being gone?”
“I don’t know. It’s all so convoluted, but at the same time, it makes perfect sense. He’s just acting so weird. I mean, is he ending our marriage? Is this a separation?” She broke down in tears.
Shane came to
her side of the table and embraced her. “Honey, it’s okay. I’m sure he doesn’t mean that.” Shane held her until she stopped crying. He sat beside her. “Remember when we first met? You told me that Brian was the one who urged you to open Bliss. He supported your every move. And remember when Sarah started preschool? He had you take pictures at the house, at the entrance to the school, after school? That’s not the sign of a man who doesn’t care about his family. Before Bliss picked up steam and you wanted to quit, he was the one who pushed you and convinced you to make it work.”
“Yeah,” Junie whispered.
“This is just a bump in the road.”
“He’s never home.”
“You knew that he would have times when he was never home when you married him. When we first met, you told me that you were proud of him for having the work ethic that his father had.”
Junie thought about what Shane had said. She had been proud about Brian’s work ethic, though she wasn’t sure why. Peter was always working, never with his family. Why would she have thought that was a commendable trait in her husband? “Yeah, well, it sucks, and he lies to me.”
“Lies to you? He’s a lawyer. That’s what they do.” He smirked.
Junie lifted her eyebrows.
“Sorry. That was stupid. He shouldn’t lie to you.”
“He said he went to see his father, and he didn’t. I have no idea where he went.”
“Do you think—”
“No. I don’t know what to think anymore.”
Shane sat up straight and said, “Then there’s only one thing to do. Go see him at his office, where he has to talk to you like an adult, without ultimatums. You can sit down in his office and hash this all out.”
“You think?” Junie wiped her eyes with a napkin. Shane was ushering her out the door with a pat on the back.
He held his pinky and thumb spread out next to his ear. “Call me.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Junie sat in her car in the parking lot outside Brian’s office. She folded and unfolded her hands, nervous about confronting him. Shane was right. She had to clear the air. She had to find out why he had lied to her. If he was out with clients, he’d have told her. He must have something to hide. Junie’s stomach lurched. If he wasn’t with another woman, where was he? She watched a car pull into the parking lot.
Peter stepped from his black Mercedes and headed toward the building, cell phone pressed to his ear.
Junie reached for the door handle, then stopped. Brian was coming out of the building, walking hurriedly toward his father. Junie dropped her hand and slid down in the driver’s seat. Luckily, she was parked in a packed lot, where her van looked just like every other minivan.
She watched them, her heart pounding fast and hard. They didn’t shake hands. Brian stood with his arms crossed, legs spread slightly apart. Peter’s hands were in his pockets. He looked from left to right, then nodded toward the side of the building.
They disappeared behind the building. Junie could no longer see them. She was dying to follow them, to hear what they were talking about. Were they making up? Why wouldn’t Brian have told her about meeting Peter today?
Peter appeared from the side of the building and headed for his car. Brian looked around, then headed back inside.
Junie dug in her purse for her cell phone. She dialed Brian’s cell.
“Hey,” he answered.
“Where are you?”
“Work.”
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m working.”
“I was going to come see you. Can you talk?”
“Can’t. I have a client in my office.”
Liar. “Who?”
“Junie, what’s going on? Why so many questions?”
“I just—” I want to know why you were with your father. “Sorry. Anything good going on today?” Tell me; please tell me.
“No. Look, I gotta run. Are you on your way to your mom’s?”
Junie’s heart sank. He had meant it. “Soon.”
“Drive careful.”
“Wait—before you hang up.”
“Junie, come on.”
“I saw you with your dad just now.”
Brian didn’t answer.
“Brian, I saw you. What’s going on? Why didn’t you tell me about seeing Peter?”
“We’re working on a case.”
“A case?”
“Yes, a case.” His voice was edged with irritation. “Look, I gotta go.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were working on a case with him? He said you never went to see him when you left Mom’s.”
“What are you talking about?” he snapped.
“The other day, when you said you went to see him and that’s why you were late arriving back at work.”
“I never said that.”
He lied. Oh my God, there must be someone else. If he’s cheating, it’s over. “Brian, don’t play attorney with me. I know what you said.” How much more was he hiding from her?
“Look, you’re confused. You’re tired, and you’re heartbroken. You misunderstood. I gotta go,” he said in a curt, attorney-client tone.
The line went dead.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Junie peeled out of her mother’s driveway, having planted Sarah safely inside. She was in no mood to be caring, nice, or in any way reasonable. She drove by the schoolyard, then the library, and finally, the park. She pulled the van over to the side of the road, her stomach tied in knots. Why was Brian lying to her? She picked up her cell phone, scrolling through her texts. There were no new messages. Junie had always thought they could weather any storm. Maybe she was wrong. She crossed her arms over the steering wheel and rested her head on them. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
If Brian has found someone else—oh God. She couldn’t even think about it. He wouldn’t do that. Would he? He had been working late for weeks, and she never questioned him. She’d never had a reason to. Had she denied Sarah’s issues one too many times? Was Brian done trying? Done putting up with Junie’s belief that Sarah had medical issues? Did she have medical issues, or was she a master manipulator? And what about Peter? What the hell was going on between Peter and Brian? Was she making something out of nothing? No, she was sure she wasn’t. She knew what Brian had used as his excuse for being late to work, regardless of his backpedaling—he did say he’d gone to see his father, and yet she knew he had not. But now he was lying about having seen him. Nothing made any sense.
Junie leaned back against the driver’s seat, let out a loud groan, and wiped her eyes. She couldn’t even be a good daughter. She’d run out on her mother yet again, leaving her as soon as Sarah was occupied. She just couldn’t sit in the house thinking about Brian lying to her, or her father being buried, or the flashes of Ellen that attacked her at odd moments. She couldn’t even take listening to Sarah’s silence, and she didn’t dare bring Sarah with her to the park. She couldn’t deal with another one of her episodes.
I have to be the most unlikable mother in the world.
She looked at the glove compartment with disdain, then clicked it open and withdrew the questionnaire. Junie took a deep breath and began answering the questions. I can do this. When she got to the question about abuse, Junie dropped the questionnaire into her lap and cried. It was all too much for her to think about. She folded the questionnaire and stuffed it back into the glove compartment. Junie pulled her shoulders back and wiped her tears. She had to get a grip on herself. She was going to figure this out once and for all.
Junie headed into the woods, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the mounting chill. The sun streamed through the trees, and Junie realized that the air wasn’t cold at all. The chill was coming from inside of her.
The trickling creek she used to find soothing now felt threatening, like a witch holding a poisonous, yet tempting, apple.
She inhaled deeply, watching the water trickle down the
modest slope, thinking of how the images of Ellen had suddenly consumed her thoughts. What was she chasing? Why was she chasing it? Junie knew there must be a reason she’d blacked out the painful memories. She wanted to forget them, but they begged to be remembered.
Only derelicts hang out back there.
“Not now, Daddy,” she said to the quiet woods. Daddy. What on earth did he have to do with all of this? Why was he leaning over Ellen? She had to remember to ask her mother about that.
She pictured Ellen urging her into the woods. “Come on, Junes. It’ll be fun.” She’d said no more times than she could count, heeding her father’s harsh command. She’d watched Ellen disappear into the woods. She remembered moving slowly across the park lawn and into the edge of the forest, but Ellen had disappeared. She stood at the edge of the woods, her heart beating as if it might explode inside her chest. She’d heeded her father’s warnings, hadn’t she? She hadn’t gone into the woods. Had she? She couldn’t remember. Damn it! Let me see. Take me there! she silently pleaded.
Junie pushed through the brush until she stood before the roses lying forgotten on the ground. The edges of the stems were cut clean across, just as she’d remembered. One of the stems had been trampled on. The petals were wilted, not brittle. Junie bent down and touched the edge of the petal. Her arms began to tremble. A tingle ran up her arms as clouds drifted overhead, shadowing the sun. The woods grew gray. Junie closed her eyes, willing herself to remain strong and not retreat from the hated flower or the rush of memories that now stirred in her mind. Darkness, rose petals floating by in the wind. She was a little girl again, standing near the Olsons’ garden, hidden beneath the flowering dogwood tree at the edge of the property. Peter stood amid the roses, his face buried in his hands.
Junie felt dizzy. She turned at the sound of giggling.
A young couple was making the climb to the top of Lovers’ Rock. The boy, dressed in cargo shorts and a long-sleeved polo shirt, couldn’t be older than fifteen. He scaled the rock, then turned back to the girl waiting at the bottom, her short skirt hiked midthigh as she stood with one leg on the boulder, one on the ground. Her sweater fell open to one side, exposing a cocoa-brown shoulder, smooth as butter. She leaned toward the ledge in the rock, then clearly feigned her inability to climb, mocked a slip back down to the ground—giggle, giggle. Shit. Junie ducked behind a tree, her heart pounding behind her ears, waiting for them to climb out of sight.
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