Where Petals Fall

by Melissa Foster

  “I don’t know. I get the feeling there was more to this whole thing with Ellen’s disappearance than just a stranger abducting her.”

  Ruth turned her back to Junie, then spun around. “If you’re implying that your father had anything to do with her disappearance, then…then…I’m ashamed of you.”

  Junie had never seen her mother get truly angry—upset, yes, put off, sure, but red-faced anger, never—or so she thought. Memories came rushing back to her now of the day they’d gone for ice cream, when they’d returned home. It was hours later when Ralph came home. Ruth was as angry as she was now—red faced, disgusted. Junie remembered sitting on the top of the stairs, out of view from where they argued.

  “Where were you?” Ruth had demanded.

  “Work,” Ralph answered, but even seven-year-old Junie knew he was lying. Her loving, scientist father, preacher of all things good, was blatantly lying to her mother.

  “I called, and the school closes at four thirty. You were with her, weren’t you?” Her mother’s voice cracked.

  “It’s over. I told you that. Leave it alone!”

  Junie’s voice stuck in her throat like thick peanut butter. Her mother stood angrily before her, arms crossed, eyes piercing.

  “I’m…I’m sorry,” Junie whispered.

  “You should be.” Ruth turned to go inside.

  Junie couldn’t hold it back; she had to know. “Mom!”

  Ruth spun around.

  Junie stood.

  “Who was she?” Every muscle in Junie’s body stiffened. Time slowed as her mother’s face turned from anger to hurt. The tension in her jaw slacked.

  Ruth stared at Junie without saying a word.

  Junie stared, wondering if her mother would answer. She had to know what was going on. The timing was too coincidental. Her father disappeared and Ellen went missing both on the same day?

  “I remember—the fight the day Ellen disappeared. Was it him? Did he do something to Ellen?” Junie turned her back, crossing her arms over her stomach. “Oh God,” she cried, unable to stop the tears. “Daddy was some kind of pervert, wasn’t he?”

  “June Marie!”

  Junie turned to face Ruth. “I saw it, him leading Ellen into the shed, him leaning over here, doing God knows what. What did he do? What did Daddy do?”

  Ruth shook; her arms, legs, everything trembled. Junie followed her gaze to the open back door, where Sarah stood, thumb in her mouth.

  “I think you’d better leave,” Ruth said, and disappeared around the corner of the house.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Junie sat in Theresa’s waiting room, feeling as though her life were over. She’d alienated both her husband and her mother. Sarah sat beside her, thumb in her mouth, blanket piled on her lap. Junie lowered her face into her hands. She’d screwed up her own daughter, probably beyond help, and now she had nowhere to go. Theresa wasn’t even an adult therapist. She’d probably throw Junie out, too.

  The office door opened and a mother and son walked out. The mother avoided Junie’s eyes. No need to be embarrassed. I’m far worse off than you could ever be, Junie thought.

  “Junie, come on in,” Theresa said. If she were annoyed at Junie’s requesting an additional meeting, she gave no indication.

  Sarah followed them silently into the room.

  “Sarah,” Theresa said. “I have this great new drawing center I’ve set up. Would you like to see it?”

  Sarah’s eyebrows lifted.

  Theresa led her into an adjoining room, where an easel, colored chalk, and oversized erasers were neatly laid out. “Your mother and I will be right in here talking. If you need us, come into the room, okay?”

  Sarah didn’t respond.

  Junie’s body was going to explode; she just knew it. Anxious energy would cause her heart to pound right through her chest, and her memories would tumble out of her head, exposing horrible things about her father and her husband. Her daughter would be ruined forever. She could just picture Theresa standing above her, shaking her head and telling her mother, “It was bound to happen. She was too messed up to ever be right.”

  Theresa sat before her without saying a word. Junie knew she was waiting for an explanation to her frantic phone call. She’d said it was urgent, but purposely left out the fact that it had nothing to do with Sarah—although, if she really thought about it, it had everything to do with Sarah. All of her actions had an impact on her daughter, and lately, every impact was a negative one.

  “Thanks for seeing us…me.”

  “You sounded desperate.”

  Junie flushed. “I have to admit, this really has more to do with me, but I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

  Theresa leaned forward. “I don’t mind helping you, but if you are going to be my client, we really need to get some paperwork out of the way. Your daughter is my client, and I have to be careful not to overstep boundaries on that end.”

  Junie was taken aback. Paperwork? Now she was a client? She flinched at what it implied about her—she was broken, maybe as broken as her daughter. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

  Theresa handed her the same paperwork she had filled out for Sarah, and Junie rushed through completing the forms, very aware at the cost of each minute. They could afford it; they were lucky. Finances hadn’t been an issue for years. Brian’s practice made more money than they could probably spend each year, and Junie’s income from the bakery was what she referred to as fluff money. She was free to do with it what she wished, but the fact that she needed help dealing with emotional issues scared her. Could Brian use her becoming a client against her? She imagined future arguments including phrases such as unfit mother and crazy.

  “Is this confidential? Whatever we talk about?”

  “Yes, of course.” Theresa took the completed paperwork and set it aside. “I know you are going through a difficult time, so I can’t say I’m surprised to find you here on my couch.” She smiled.

  “I am.” Junie bristled. “I mean, I never expected to feel so out of control. I’ve been thrown out by my husband and my mother.” Tears pushed at Junie’s eyes. Not now, please. She opened her mouth to speak and choked on sobs.

  Theresa handed her a box of tissues. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

  “I’m sorry,” Junie said, wiping her eyes and feeling foolish. “What is wrong with me? I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Does this have something to do with the memories that you’ve been experiencing?”

  “I found something, and I’m not sure what to do about it, and Brian’s lying to me.” She looked out the window, then turned back. “About his father, of all things. None of it makes any sense, and I feel—overwhelmed.”

  “What did you find?”

  “It was in my father’s shed. I found a sweater. Ellen’s sweater.”

  “And that’s significant because?” Theresa picked up her pen, wrote something on a pad of paper.

  “Because we weren’t allowed in his shed, and I remember—or at least I think I remember—seeing Ellen walk in there one night.”

  “And Brian’s lie?”

  “That makes no sense at all. He lied about meeting with his father at his office. I saw them. I was right there in the parking lot, and after his father left, I called him, and he lied about the meeting.” Junie bit her lower lip, then added, “And he lied about going to see him when he left after the funeral. It’s like one lie after another.”

  “Why would he lie about that? What is their relationship?”

  “They’re distant. But why lie?” Junie sat back, crossed her arms protectively. A shield against the truth?

  “Okay, so let’s take this apart a bit. What would it mean if Ellen had been in your father’s shed?”

  Junie thought about the question. “That’s just it. I don’t know. That he was a pervert that liked little girls?”

  “Do you have any reason to believe your father might have been a pedophile?” Theresa asked.

>   Junie flushed, waved her hands in front of her face. “No, that doesn’t feel right,” she said emphatically. “In fact, just the opposite. He was not overtly emotional. He was clinical. I think that’s what’s bothering me so much. I can’t put the two pieces together. He was hiding something, obviously, but what?”

  “I don’t have that answer. So, what other plausible explanations can you come up with?”

  Junie held her hands up in the air. “It was the middle of the night, I think, so he wouldn’t be tickling her or playing a game. I just can’t figure out exactly what else he could have been doing.”

  “Okay, let’s talk about Brian for a minute. Why would he lie to you about his father?”

  “Who knows?”

  “Well, obviously he does. Did you ever talk to him about how he treated you after Ellen died?”

  “I tried, but I didn’t get very far.”

  Theresa nodded, then rubbed her chin. “Junie,” she said thoughtfully. “How do you feel about hypnosis?”

  Junie crinkled her nose.

  “Yeah, I know, it sounds hokey, but for some repressed memories, it works to uncover the reasons why you have repressed them. It may help you to understand what surrounds the memories of your father and Ellen, and who knows? It could help you to understand what you’ve forgotten about Brian and his father, too.”

  Sarah walked into the room, dragging her blanket.

  Saved. “Are you done drawing, honey?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “Let’s go take a look.” Theresa and Junie walked into the other room. Sarah stayed behind.

  “This is beautiful,” Theresa said. “Is this a garden?”

  Junie stared at the picture. It looked remarkably like Peter’s garden, but it could have just as easily been any garden. “Papa Peter’s garden?” Junie asked.

  Sarah was silent.

  “Her grandfather has a garden in his backyard. Sarah likes to play back there, but this trip, it was a mess, covered with weeds.” Junie wanted to run away, hide from the idea of hypnosis. If Theresa was bringing up hypnosis, that meant she thought Junie was crazy—she needed hypnosis. She turned to Sarah and used her for an out. “Maybe we’d better go home.” Oh God, where can we go? She caught Theresa’s eye and whispered, “I didn’t get to tell you about what happened with Brian and my mother. Brian told me to stay with my mom, but she’s pretty mad at me and basically told me to go home.” She turned her back to Sarah. “I don’t know where to go.”

  “Do you feel safe around Brian?”

  “Of course,” Junie said.

  “He’s not so upset that it might put you and Sarah in danger in any way?”

  “You’ve met him. Of course not.”

  “I have to ask.” Theresa flashed her most professional therapist gaze. “I would go home, then. A home belongs to the family, not just one family member, and Sarah needs stability.”

  Junie nodded. She could do this. “So, should I try to talk to Brian about his dad?”

  “What do you think?” Theresa asked.

  Theresa’s question annoyed Junie. Why would I be here if I had all the answers? She thought about the question. Should she talk to him? What would she gain by doing so? It turned out she did have all the answers after all; she just didn’t realize it. With a sigh, she said, “No. It would only cause conflict.”

  “Think about what I suggested. Let me know. I think it could help.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Junie heard the front door open at six p.m., much earlier than usual for Brian to come home. She moved about the kitchen, focusing on stirring the spaghetti rather than the mounting fear that Brian might not want her there. Her chest tightened as his footsteps neared.

  “Hey!” His voice carried a happy cadence, and Junie released the breath she’d been holding. He wrapped his arms around Junie’s waste and kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  He kissed Sarah’s head. “You, too, sweetie. I missed my girls.”

  “You’re not mad?” Junie asked.

  “Mad? No. But I don’t want to talk about any of that. Can we just have a nice evening as a family?”

  A nice family evening. Every inch of Junie ached for just that. She’d take it! She had begun doubting her own perception. It was certainly plausible that Brian and Peter were working on a case together, and it was true that he hadn’t been in the habit of telling Junie who he worked with.

  Dinner was uneventful, and Junie enjoyed the peacefulness, the normalcy that had been lost over recent weeks. Brian was in good spirits and seemed sincerely glad that Junie and Sarah were home. When Sarah wet her pants after dinner, he didn’t get upset and snap at Junie for herding her upstairs and into the bathtub, cooing, “Accidents happen.”

  Brian read to Sarah at bedtime and sat beside her while she drifted off to sleep.

  “Is she down?” Junie asked when he came downstairs.

  “Yeah, sound asleep.”

  The news came on, and Junie turned down the volume. She sat next to Brian, feeling his warmth, comforted by his arm around her shoulder. She’d missed that closeness, and yet she was afraid to mention it. She felt a bit like she was walking on eggshells—not because of anything Brian did or said, but because of her nagging desire to talk about the possibility of hypnosis. She knew Brian would be against it. The last therapist had suggested it for Sarah, and they both had nixed the idea without giving it much thought at all. So why was she considering it for herself?

  The next morning, Brian left early for work, passing by Sarah’s bedroom as Junie silently changed her soiled sheets. He didn’t smirk or make a nasty comment, but the fact that he didn’t even say goodbye bothered Junie. After the nice night they’d shared—they’d made love after Sarah had gone to bed, and sure, it had been rushed and maybe even a little rougher than usual, but she’d hoped it might be the spark of a softening between them. It had been weeks since they’d been intimate, and she was beginning to wonder if they’d ever find a path back to their sensuality. She’d hoped he might wake up in the same loving mood. Instead, he’d been unreadable, and in some ways, that was more difficult than him being angry.

  Junie took Sarah to preschool, where Sarah stood silently to the side as kids played in small groups. Her teacher assured her she would try to get her involved in the day’s activities, and Junie left, heading toward Bliss.

  “She’s back!” Shane announced when she walked in the front door.

  Junie said hello to Mrs. Matz and her daughter, Caroline, Bliss Friday-morning regulars.

  “For a few hours, anyway,” she said to Shane. Junie went into the kitchen and looked over their order sheet. Shane had, as always, kept everything perfectly organized. She owed more than the bakery’s success to her friend; she owed a slice of her sanity as well.

  Once the customers cleared out, she sidled up to Shane and asked, “What do you think about hypnosis?”

  “The kind that makes you squawk like a chicken?”

  “No, the kind that helps you remember things you might have repressed.” She slid a tray of cookies out of the oven.

  “Ah, is that where we’re headed?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think? I mean, I think it makes sense. Now that I’m having these flashes of memory, I can’t really ignore them.”

  “No, I guess you can’t.” He slapped her fingers as she reached for a cookie. “Uh-uh. Those are getting frosting.”

  “Mm, even better.” She waited for Shane to say more, and when he didn’t, she asked, “Will you go with me?”

  He lifted his eyebrows.

  “For moral support. Please? I can’t do this on my own.”

  He set the cookies on the cooling rack. “Isn’t that what girlfriends are for?”

  They’d gone through this before. Shane knew she had no girlfriends to speak of or to lean on. It was a running joke—a joke that recently turned to something that pained Junie more than she’d care to admit. “Sure, if I had any.” Just another i
tem for Junie’s Things I Suck At list: maintaining female friendships.

  “Your mom?”

  Junie saw the hope in his eyes, and knew he would rather she took her mother. She also knew that she could count on him to go with her. “She’s kind of pissed at me.”

  He shrugged. “Sure, if I can get a day off out of it.”

  Junie threw her arms around his neck. They’d call in the kitchen helpers for a day, even if they weren’t great with the customers. She needed Shane, and even if they had to close the bakery for a day, they’d make it work. “I knew I could count on you!” She slipped an apron over her head and said, “Can we keep this between us? I don’t know what Brian would think about it.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Preparing for hypnosis was nothing like the dramatic scene that Junie had imagined. Theresa didn’t turn down the lights; there was no soft music playing or any other dramatic flair. She and Shane sat in Theresa’s office, side by side, and Theresa explained how the hypnosis would work, which was very clinical, as far as Junie could tell.

  “Sometimes people can’t be hypnotized,” Theresa explained.

  That’ll be me, Junie thought.

  “For some, it simply doesn’t work. You’ll need to be accepting of the process and completely relaxed, which I know is easier said than done.”

  “Is there any chance I will stay hypnotized?” Anxiety pushed her words out quick and sharp.

  “Not a chance. I’ll bring you out of it if I see you are feeling overly anxious. Some therapists believe you have to experience the pain of the past in order to learn from it. I’m not one of them. I think you simply need to remember the events surrounding the incident, or sometimes, the incident itself, but from the perspective of a bystander, not a participant.”

  “Fascinating,” Shane said. “Can this have any sort of aftereffects?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Junie liked the way that Theresa included Shane. She was concerned that he’d be made uncomfortable since he wasn’t her husband, and Junie didn’t want any misunderstanding about their relationship. Surprisingly, they’d never been questioned about their relationship by anyone—not Brian, not Ruth, not the kitchen help. Junie considered them lucky in that regard. Gossip was not something she was comfortable with. That would be all she needed, another thing to worry about. She felt a little funny now, sitting in Theresa’s office, doing something so intimate with Shane watching and keeping it a secret from Brian. It was the “secret” part that was bothering her. She wished that she could trust her husband to understand and support this new, confusing part of her life as it unfolded, but she feared he’d be angry with her for pursuing the memories of Ellen, and she couldn’t worry about that right now. She had to focus, to let herself relax enough to allow herself to be taken under hypnosis.