Where Petals Fall

by Melissa Foster

  Sarah blinked up at her through thick, wet lashes.

  “Do you remember who Aunt Ellen was?” Junie hoped that the question didn’t send Sarah further into her silence.

  Sarah nodded.

  Just to be sure, Junie reiterated. “She was Daddy’s sister. She went away when she was younger. Daddy hasn’t seen her in a very long time.” Junie remembered the previous year, when Sarah had heard her on the phone telling Shane that Sarah had done something that reminded her of Brian’s sister. Sarah had been relentless in her pursuit of who Daddy’s sister was, and finally, Junie had given in and satisfied her four-year-old curiosity with two sentences: Aunt Ellen was Daddy’s sister. She went away, and he hasn’t seen her for a very long time. “That was Aunt Ellen’s earring, and Papa Pete was worried that seeing it might make Daddy sad. That’s why he told you that you mustn’t tell us about it.” Her stomach ached for the pain and confusion Sarah must have felt over the past several months. “I’m sorry that he scared you.” Anger rose within her. Her cheeks flushed. She took a deep breath to calm herself down. She didn’t want to upset Sarah any more than she already had. She used her index finger to draw Sarah’s chin upward and looked into her eyes. “Baby, I can’t change what Papa Pete said to you, but you need to know that you didn’t do anything wrong and that nothing you could say or do to me or to Daddy would ever make us love you less. Nothing you could ever say or do would make us too angry to talk through things with you.” Junie pulled Sarah close, feeling her chest hitch with little-girl tears.

  Junie’s heart sank. At least they thought they had the answer. Now they could start the healing process for Sarah.

  She drew Sarah back and looked into her eyes.

  Sarah popped her thumb into her mouth.

  “Papa Pete is sorry, you know. He loves you very much.” Even if Mommy is pissed at him.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Brian stayed at his father’s house that night for the first time in almost thirty years. Junie allowed him to Skype Sarah at bedtime, although Junie had to leave the room. She couldn’t stomach seeing him. As she tucked Sarah into bed, she watched the light in Peter’s den go on, then immediately go out. Sadness enveloped her, weighing her down like a dark cloud dampens a sunny day.

  She crawled into bed, wondering how in the hell they could ever get past the lies that had erupted. She stared at the ceiling, trying to convince herself that Brian was a killer, but she could not reconcile such thoughts to the Brian she knew and loved. Maybe he wasn’t a killer, but shouldn’t she blame him for Ellen’s death? Her mind went around and around. Wasn’t he at fault? Maybe, she decided. He threw the rock, causing her to slip and have the seizure that led to her death. He was a kid, she silently argued with herself. Fourteen years old! He hit the tree with the rock, not Ellen. He wasn’t trying to hurt or kill her, just scare her. She was sure that Brian and Peter could defend their actions better than any other attorney in the United States, and the thought made her heart ache. What if they couldn’t? Should Brian and Peter go to jail? What if they were lying? What if he really hit Ellen in the head and killed her? Thinking like her lawyer husband, she realized that the police, or at least the search dogs, would have found blood somewhere along the way.

  Junie buried her face in the pillow and screamed.

  She felt mildly better, then cried herself to sleep.

  Junie didn’t call Theresa again or her mother’s therapist. She feared the ramifications of doing so—would they report Brian and Peter to the police? How would it affect Ruth? Sarah? Susan? Her days were consumed with wanting to be free of their lies. Why? she asked herself. Why did this have to happen? Why did I have to pursue my memories?

  She purposely didn’t seek Ruth’s advice, though she knew her mother was always there, willing to lend an ear and talk things over. Junie didn’t want her advice. She wanted her decision to be her own, but she didn’t trust herself enough to make a decision.

  How on earth would she navigate this new landscape of her life? Should she ignore what she now knew happened? Go on like the event never occurred? Pretend Ellen wasn’t buried in the garden on the hill? She could no sooner do that than pretend that her father hadn’t had an affair. Knowledge was painful. Period.

  Junie let Brian’s calls go to voice mail. He’d gone back home and back to work. She wasn’t ready to face him yet, or even think about talking to him. Messages worked for now.

  “You know,” Ruth said over breakfast, “the longer you put this off, the worse it will be, and not just for you, but you have a little girl to deal with, too.”

  Junie glared at her mother. How could she even entertain the thought of Junie talking to, or forgiving, Brian? Was that what she wanted, or did she want Junie to act as if the whole thing never happened?

  “I know what you’re thinking, June, and no, I don’t think you should pretend it didn’t happen.”

  “You really do know what I’m thinking. That’s a little freaky.”

  “Not really. I’ve been your mother for a very long time. I just think you can’t ignore the situation.”

  Junie jumped to her feet and paced in the small kitchen. She pressed her fingers to her temple. “Don’t you think I know that, Mom?” She looked out the window at the landscaping truck parked at the bottom of Peter’s driveway. Bile rose in her throat and she turned away.

  “You need to talk to someone. My therapist? Your own? Someone, June. You can’t handle this on your own.”

  Junie sat down across from Ruth. “Daddy knew. He knew what happened.”

  Ruth nodded.

  “Did you know? Did he tell you?”

  “No, June, he didn’t tell me. Peter called me last night and explained everything. Your father was a complex man. He would have protected my feelings, and yours.”

  “Right, like he protected yours when he had the affair?” Junie regretted her words the seconds they flew from her lips. She watched her mother pull her shoulders back. “I’m sorry, Mom, I didn’t mean that.”

  “Yes, you did. It’s okay. I get it. I understand where you’re coming from. It doesn’t mean that your words don’t hurt, but they’re fair.”

  Junie dropped her face into her hands. “Geez, Mom, how can you stand me? I’m such a bitch.”

  Ruth reached for her hand. “Honey, you’re not a bitch. What you said is true. Daddy didn’t protect my feelings when he was…there for Susan. But this—” She waved her hand toward Peter’s house. “This situation is very different.”

  Junie didn’t want her mother’s advice, but she realized at that moment that she needed to hear what her mother had to say. She was not adept at handling these types of situations. Obviously, she thought, because she repressed the memories of them. She was caught in Brian and Peter’s web of deceit and could feel the spiders crawling after her. She could not ignore, outrun, or repress this situation. She had to deal with it head on. She took a deep breath and listened to her mother describe the value of lies.

  “Relationships are fragile things, Junie. Just because you are a mother, daughter, or spouse does not mean that you must always be honest.”

  Junie opened her mouth to argue, but Ruth spoke louder.

  “I know. I taught you the value of honesty above all else, but there are certain times in life when the truth does not serve anyone very well.”

  “That’s called a lie of convenience, Mom.” Junie crossed her arms.

  “No, that’s not what I’m talking about. Deceit for your own benefit is not right. Your father’s lies about Susan were wrong. They were damn wrong. He manipulated our marriage during that time, allowing himself to be with her, taking time from you, from our family—those lies that he told were lies of convenience. They were not acceptable, but as I said before, relationships are not always neat and tidy, and that…issue was what it was. Those lies that your father told, they were completely different from the secrets and lies that Peter and Brian held for all these years, and they were different from your father no
t telling me about what had happened to Ellen.”

  “Why? That makes no sense.” Junie fumed.

  Ruth spread her hands flat on the table, closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, then set her hands in her lap. She spoke in an even, unemotional tone. “Those lies, Junie, were lies for the protection of others. Let’s look at Brian and Peter. Brian was just fourteen. A boy. A kid, and a very confused kid, but still, a sweet kid. I have known Brian since he was knee high. That boy was not a killer. I do believe that he didn’t throw that rock with the intention of hitting Ellen. Now, he might have scared her so badly that she slipped and fell, hit her head, had a seizure. Whatever happened, happened, but there’s no way that I believe that he killed her in the actual sense of the word.”

  “But—”

  “June Marie, hear me out, please.”

  Junie clenched her jaw and listened.

  “Peter was, is, a prominent attorney. Did he cover it up to save himself? I don’t think so. He’s too good at what he does. He’d have won the case, but he’s right, Brian’s life would have been changed forever. He would have the mark on his record, even if it would have been sealed because of his youth. It would have been there, and people talk, so chances are, Brian would not have become the attorney that he is had they gone public.”

  “So what? So Ellen deserves to be hidden in a garden to save Brian’s potential career? That’s just awful. It’s not how you brought me up.”

  Ruth looked down. “No, it’s not. You’re right about that, which is why this is so hard to explain.” She lifted her eyes, met Junie’s angry stare. “No matter how this would have ended up, their entire family would have been hurt. This would have followed them all publicly—not just privately—forever. And, Junie, you know that nice little life you’ve spent the last few years building for yourself and your daughter? Think about everywhere you go, everywhere Sarah goes, people whispering, pointing—you know it would be on the news. With Peter’s reputation, it might even make national news. Then what? You spend your life hiding from Brian’s mistake? Hiding from Ellen’s slippery sneakers? You think Sarah has a lot to deal with now? Try throwing this on that little girl of yours.”

  She was right. Junie could feel it in her bones, a dull ache, a battle of right and wrong, and still, she couldn’t figure out the right thing to do.

  “Your father lied to protect me and you from having to be in this situation, I think. If he’d believed that Brian was at fault, your father wouldn’t have kept the secret. He was not that kind of man.”

  Junie lifted her eyebrows.

  “He would never cover up a murder. You know that.” Ruth took a deep breath, then continued. “Peter lied to protect his family—and himself, no doubt, but his family first. He was thinking of Brian, and Susan, whom he lost anyway. Brian was too young to know better.”

  “He was not,” Junie spat. “He was fourteen!”

  “Yes, with a controlling father who determined his every move. I don’t know about you, but at fourteen, I would not have gone up against Peter Olson. No way. Brian did what he was advised to do, strongly advised.”

  Tears slipped down Junie’s cheeks. “He lied to me, Mom. For all these years, he lied to me.” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

  Ruth nodded. “Yes, he did. Junie, would you have married him if you’d known?”

  Junie shook her head, blinking away her tears.

  “Are you sure?” Ruth asked gently.

  “I don’t know,” she said. Junie pulled her shoulders back and met her mother’s eyes. “I don’t think I would have.”

  “Okay, maybe not, but I think you would have. I think you were so in love with him that you’d have looked me in the eye and said, Mom, he was a kid. It was an accident. In fact, I can almost hear you say it. And you know what?”

  Junie lifted her eyebrows in question.

  “I would have supported you, because I know he’s not a killer, and because there’s nothing in this world that I want more than for you to be happy. Brian isn’t a threat to you. He’s not a threat to Sarah. He’s someone who made a mistake and the outcome was much larger, and more gruesome, than most of our mistakes. He’s someone who followed his father’s guidance even if it was a bad call. But he’s not a killer. A liar? Yes, but so was your father, and no matter how you turn it, I don’t think that makes him unlovable.”

  Her mother’s words hit her like ice in her veins. Junie shivered.

  “Some lies,” Ruth said, “can be put into perspective. You don’t have to agree with them, and you don’t have to forgive them, but some lies can be tucked away and lived with.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Days stretched into weeks, weeks into months, and months into almost a full year. Brian and Junie remained apart. Junie enrolled Sarah in a morning drop-in preschool program ten minutes from Ruth’s house, and she and Shane worked out a schedule that suited both of them. Shane stood by Junie, though he was steadfast in his belief that she should consider reconciling with Brian. He reminded her of the connection that they shared and Brian’s ever-present support. That kind of love doesn’t go away because he lied to you about the death of his sister. He’s tortured himself for all these years. His father forced him into an untenable situation. Junie, he didn’t ask to cover up Ellen’s death, and he didn’t ask to be Peter’s golden boy, but he did ask to be your husband, and he did ask to have a child with you.

  Ruth entered the kitchen dressed in a purple suit and donning a giant red hat.

  “Mom, you look ridiculous.”

  Ruth glowed. “I love it. It’s been so long since I have done anything even remotely fun. When Mary Margaret suggested that we create the Getty Girls’ Red Hat Society for all of us older women in our town, it seemed like it might be fun to try it.”

  “And what happened last month when you two went to that other Red Hat Society meeting in the next town over? Did they somehow rope you in, and now you’re a cult follower? Hi, I’m Ruth Nailon, and I’m a widow? Like AA?” Junie listened to her own cattiness. What was going on with her? Was she jealous that her mother could move on and she seemed stuck in the mess of her own crazy life? Junie smoothed the red frosting onto the first layer of the cake she was making and waited for it to set before placing the second, smaller layer on top.

  “You’re such a fool. I’d hardly call this a cult, and the support is what I need. Many of the Red Hat women have been through the same thing I’m going through, June. I need this.”

  Junie mulled that over. Her mother deserved support, and maybe Junie was having a hard time understanding it because she’d missed out on those supportive relationships throughout the years. Whether she was jealous over her mother’s ability to move forward or her ability to form long-lasting female friendships, jealousy was an ugly cohort. She needed to rein in her misplaced emotions. “I wish there was a support group for people in my position—Wives of Accidental Murderers with Selfish Fathers.”

  Ruth touched her arm. “I’m sorry, honey. I know how hard this year has been—for all of us.” She peered over Junie’s shoulder. “Whatcha building?”

  “Red Hat cake.” She winked. “I figured that if you were going to do this, you might as well do it right. This is for your…gathering of red hat goddesses. I can’t have my mother showing up empty-handed every month.” She set the second layer on the first, and the image of the hat became apparent.

  “That’s lovely!” Ruth said.

  The top layer slid to the side. Junie caught it with her spatula. “Yeah, except it doesn’t quite stay atop very well.”

  “Well, like life, things aren’t always so—”

  “Neat and tidy,” Junie said in tune with her mother.

  They chuckled.

  “You can say that again.” Junie settled the top layer into the center of the base, plastering it in place with the thick frosting. She squeezed the pastry bag, dipping and lifting, creating little elaborate icing flowers to hold the layer in place.

  “S
ometimes you just need to figure out the best way to accept what you’ve been given and make it work for you.”

  She set the pastry bag down next to the cake and looked at her mother. Gratitude swelled in her heart. “Mom, in case I forget to tell you, you mean the world to me.”

  “Oh, Junie, please.”

  “Seriously. You teach me something every day. I know I will never be the same mom that you are, but I can strive to be, and I do strive to be, even if I fall short.”

  Ruth took her daughter’s hand in her own and said, “You are a marvelous daughter, mother, and yes, even wife. We all do the best we can, June. That’s all we can do in this lifetime.”

  When Brian Skyped to say good night to Sarah that evening, Shane’s reminders drew Junie to him: He didn’t ask to be Peter’s golden boy, but he did ask to be your husband, and he did ask to have a child with you.

  Brian’s face was drawn, and for the first time since she learned about his lies, Junie found herself worrying about him—was he eating right, was he sleeping enough?

  “How is she?” he asked.

  Brian saw Sarah every weekend, but still Junie gushed over Sarah’s progress. Her accidents had stopped completely, and she was becoming more communicative, even if that particular progress was slow. They’d continued to see Theresa on a weekly basis—for Sarah, not Junie, and it was helping her. Theresa didn’t know what Brian had done, or where Ellen was buried, but she knew that Sarah had found Ellen’s earring and her grandfather’s admonishment was what sent her spiraling into regression and silence. Theresa was giving Junie guidelines on communication, how she should react to Sarah when Junie fears she’s going in the wrong direction, and Junie was thankful for that guidance. Mostly she was thankful for the little changes she’d begun to see with Sarah—a nod here, a whispered, No, there. Theresa was slowly bringing Sarah out of her shell. Now that they understood where the issue began, Theresa was able to work with Sarah on rebuilding trust in all of her relationships.