Where Petals Fall (17 page)

Junie slept fitfully. She awoke in a cold sweat, a memory taunting her. She’d remembered the morning after Ellen had spent the night. She’d woken up in the morning to Ellen’s empty sleeping bag. She remembered asking her mother where Ellen was, and she said she got sick in the middle of the night. It made sense to her. Ellen had been sick, a reasonable explanation.

She rolled over and looked at Sarah’s curls on Brian’s pillow. He hadn’t come home during the night. Sarah lay on his side of the bed, a giant urine spot beneath her. Junie wiped the sleep from her eyes.
Not now
.

She carried Sarah into the bathroom and cleaned her up, then changed her linens and the linens in Sarah’s bed as well.
Two accidents. That’s not good
. Her actions were robotic; her mind weeded through her memories. Ellen being sick might explain what she’d seen, but what about Ellen’s sweater in her father’s shed? Why would he have tucked it above the door like that?

She brought the linens downstairs to the laundry room, passing Sarah on the way. She sat on the floor in the living room, a pad of paper in front of her, crayons spread across the floor.

“Be careful of the hardwood, Sarah.”

Sarah didn’t answer.

They had an appointment for Sarah later that afternoon with Theresa. Junie felt guilty for taking up so much of Theresa’s time, but she reasoned that it was necessary. If nothing else, she was protecting her own sanity. Maybe what she really needed was marriage counseling, she mused.

She threw the laundry in the washer and went to sit with Sarah.

“What are you drawing?”

Sarah didn’t move. She held a green crayon in her hand. The picture she’d drawn looked like the one she’d drawn in Theresa’s office.

“Papa Pete’s garden?”

Sarah popped her thumb into her mouth and looked up at Junie.

“You love that garden, don’t you?”

Junie thought of her mother, how hurt she had been with her accusations about her father. She’d have to call her and apologize. She couldn’t have her entire life falling apart, although it seemed to be heading that way fast.

“I feel like we’re monopolizing your time.” Junie blushed, feeling naked, as if she’d been overexposed during their last session. She wished she’d taken the time to do her hair instead of throwing it up in a rubber band.

Theresa wore wide-bottomed slacks and a T-shirt. Her dark hair hung in a thick mass to her shoulders. She was tall and slim and pulled the casual outfit off with panache. Jealousy tiptoed through Junie. With all that had been going on in her life, she would love to have a facade of ease for others to perceive. She saw herself as a pinched nerve lately, moving from one stressful moment to the next.

Theresa sidled up to Junie and whispered, “Life is beautiful even when it seems it’s not. Hang in there.”

Theresa’s words soothed Junie, and for the first time in twenty-four hours, she was able to relax.

Theresa bent down to eye level with Sarah. “How are you today?”

Sarah clenched her blanket and the notebook she’d been drawing in.

“Did you draw more gardens?” Theresa held a hand out. “May I see?”

Sarah gave her the notebook, and Theresa studied the drawing. She narrowed her eyes, then said, “This is beautiful. I see that you really do love your grandpa’s garden.” She led them into her office, where Junie and Sarah sat side by side.

“Do you want to tell me about this picture? I still have your other drawing up on my board. It was far too beautiful to erase.”

Sarah watched Theresa.

Theresa waited, but Sarah offered nothing.

“Do you mind if I ask Mom about the garden?”

Junie liked how respectful Theresa was toward Sarah. She waited for Sarah to respond. Sarah sat silently beside her.

“Mom, what can you tell me about this garden of Papa Pete’s?”

Junie adjusted herself in her seat, not sure what she should say—should she talk about how she and Ellen used to play around them, or did she just want to hear about Sarah’s experiences? She chose the safe route and stuck close to Sarah.

“Papa Pete is very proud of his gardens, or at least he had been until recently. His backyard was like
The Secret Garden
. Do you know that book? His gardens weren’t locked or anything like that, but they sure felt magical.” She looked lovingly at Sarah. “Sarah has grown up playing in the gardens much like I did. Even though Brian and Peter aren’t close, Peter has always reached out to Sarah.” Junie thought about Peter and Sarah’s relationship, and again wondered if Peter was somehow trying to make up for his coldness toward Ellen. It was a strange thought, but it somehow fit the situation. “The entire backyard is walled in by enormous trees and beautiful shrubbery.” Junie used her hands to show the breadth of the bushes. “She’d play out there for hours.” Junie smiled, remembering the happiness of her own younger days.

She looked at Theresa and asked, “Did you ever have a place when you were young where even your worst fears were put at bay, left at the entrance? The gardens are…were…that type of place.”

Sarah nodded.

Both Junie and Theresa watched her with amazement as she bobbed her head. Junie’s cheeks hurt from the smile that grew across them.

“Sarah, you loved them, didn’t you?” she encouraged her, but Sarah withdrew. She stopped bobbing her head and looked down at the floor, sucking her thumb.

“Junie, you said
were
. What’s changed?” Theresa asked.

“Peter. Peter’s changed. I think it must all be too much for him now. He’s all alone in that gigantic house. He’s lost his wife, his daughter, and”—she leaned forward and whispered—“maybe his son.” She thought of the pain the garden must have brought Peter even after all the years that had passed. “Something in him must have snapped. You’d think that after all these years, he would be used to it, but I think he finally just gave up on the garden. Maybe it’s his way of finally letting go of Ellen. Maybe my dad’s passing made him realize that after all these years, she was not coming back.”

Theresa glanced down at the picture again, vibrant green and reds against the dark brown of the table.

“Sarah, I noticed something in this picture. You have one black mark drawn between the flowers. What is that?”

Junie picked up the picture and looked closely.

Sarah didn’t answer.

Junie stood. “May I?” She nodded toward the other room.

“Sure.”

Junie walked into the other room and studied the other picture that Sarah had drawn. The same black image was drawn, almost a tiny scribble, as if she’d begun drawing something and then stopped.

“A rock, maybe?” Junie drew her eyebrows together, trying to remember what she’d seen in the garden. Then she remembered Sarah hadn’t visited the gardens during their last trip. The last time Sarah had seen them, they were meticulously manicured.

Theresa nodded. “A rock. Perhaps that’s it.” She switched gears and asked Sarah about her father. Why did she want to leave her grandmother’s house with him? Sarah didn’t answer. Was she glad to be home?

Sarah nodded.

That little movement sent a rush of adrenaline through Junie. She recognized the soaring emotion that followed—hope. She had hope. Sarah had responded. That was huge.

Upon completion of their time together, Theresa asked Sarah if she’d come back the following week, and Sarah grabbed her mother’s hand, thumb jammed in her mouth, and stared down at the floor without responding. Her blond ringlets bobbed up and down, the slightest of movements. Had Junie not been looking for it, she could have missed it. Her heart soared.

“Yes, yes, we’ll be back. Most definitely,” she gushed.

On the way home from the appointment, Junie could barely conceal her delight. She rattled on and on to a silent Sarah about how proud of her she was and how she hoped Sarah felt safe enough to talk to Theresa someday.

Then her chest tightened. She realized that Sarah’s face had once again become a blank slate. Had she said too much? Was she too pushy? Damn. Parenting was so hard. She needed a handbook.

She settled Sarah in at home and called Brian from the kitchen.

He answered with a snappy, “What?”

Junie paid no attention. She boasted about Sarah’s progress. “You should have seen her. She responded! She actually nodded. Brian, this is huge.”

She waited for him to respond, to be as thrilled as she was and maybe even forgive their argument.

He was silent.

Junie swallowed her excitement. She bit her lower lip, contemplating what to say next. “Brian? Aren’t you even the littlest bit happy about this?”

She heard him sigh and could envision the disappointment in his eyes. Maybe he was waiting for an apology. Could she give it? Was she sorry for wanting to find out what was driving her memories? No, she wasn’t.

“Okay, well, just wanted to let you know,” she said.

The phone went dead.

Sarah sat on the swing in the backyard while Junie vented her frustration by pulling weeds.  She would rather be baking, but after Sarah’s breakthrough and Brian’s attitude, she felt she might explode if kept indoors.

She wrapped her fingers around the thick weeds and yanked, feeling the release of her angst as each weed pulled free from its tethers. How could Brian be mad at her for trying to figure out what was going on? Could she be way off? Maybe Ellen was just taken by a stranger, driven away and sold as a sex slave, as Katie had indicated. But what if she wasn’t? What if her father had had a double life?

She yanked another weed and tossed it aside.

She pulled at her memory, begging it to come forward. Why was Ellen’s sweater in the shed? She really needed to ask her mother. She thought of the conversation that might take place.

Mom, I found Ellen’s sweater in Dad’s shed
.

So what?

So, we were never allowed in the shed
.

So he found it on the ground one day and thought it was yours, stuck it in there. Who knows?

 No, I’m sure it was Ellen’s
.

Damn it, Junie. What do you want from me? Do you really think I’d have stayed married to a man who did something to that young girl?

 I’m sorry, Mom
.

She could never have that conversation.

Junie grabbed hold of a thick, thorny weed. She tugged and pulled, to no avail. “Damn it,” she said, and crouched on her haunches. She pulled, leaning all of her weight back on her heels. “Come on, sucker.” Tears sprang from her eyes.
Who are you? What are you?
She realized she was no longer thinking of the invasive weed, but of her father, and her husband, and maybe even her daughter.

She fell backward with the weed between both hands, a big clump of dirt attached to the root.

“Son of a bitch,” she mumbled. The sun beat down on her from above. She lay on her back, watching the clouds go by. Her legs began to tingle. Her arms relaxed to her sides as the memory trickled in. Ellen walked with her father in the dark, toward his shed. She looked back over her shoulder and up at Junie’s window. Junie could feel the cold glass pressing against her palm. The shed door shut behind them.

“I can’t wait another week. I have to know. It’s killing me.” Junie was at the bakery with Shane, who was trying to talk her out of doing another hypnosis session before a week had passed. Brian had slept at his office again the night before, and Sarah had not only wet her bed in the morning, but she’d thrown a fit when Junie had left her at preschool.

Shane was helping a customer who couldn’t make up his mind.
A middle-aged man pretending to care about his expanded waistline. What else is new?
He hemmed and hawed over the low-fat brownies or the regular brownies. Junie turned her back toward the customer and raised her eyebrows to Shane, as if to say,
Another one? Just get it over with and take the full-fat brownie and move on.
There were customers who truly cared about their figures but loved sweets; then there were customers who wished they could care enough about their figures to make changes to their diets but weren’t quite adept at doing so. This man was one of
those
customers.

“You heard Theresa. She said she always lets a week go by, so you can see if any memories appear naturally,” Shane said quietly.

Junie smiled at the man, who was now eyeing the chocolate éclairs. “They’re appearing all right, and I don’t like it.”

Shane asked the man if he was ready to order, and he shook his head. Shane leaned against the counter, staring wide-eyed at Junie. “Do tell,” he urged.

Junie shook her head. “It’s crazy. It’s all my dad and Ellen. He’s walking into the shed with her. Why? Why would he take her in there?”

“I’m ready. I’ll take two éclairs and a low-fat brownie.”

Junie raised her eyebrows at Shane
. See?

“My children will love these,” the man added as he handed Shane the money.

“Thanks for stopping by. Enjoy the treats,” Shane said. He flashed his most cordial smile, then quickly turned back to Junie. “What else did you see?”

“Nothing.” She plopped down in the chair beside the counter. “That’s just it. She looked back at me, like…like she was proud. Almost like she was teasing me.
See where I can go!”
Junie mocked in her best seven-year-old voice.

“Maybe she was.”

“Pfft.” Junie swatted the air. “My father would no sooner take her into the shed—” Junie’s jaw fell open.

“What?”

“We were in there. Me and Ellen. I remember. We snuck in one day. I stole the key one afternoon when my parents were upstairs and we snuck in.” She bit her lower lip, remembering how cool it was to be in her father’s shed. “We were crouched in the back of the shed, looking at his stuff.”

“Stuff? What did he have?” Shane sat next to her, holding his doughy hands out in front of him to keep the mess from his clothing. “What did you find?”

Junie shook her head. “I have no idea. I don’t remember…” In light of the unhappy images she’d been seeing, this memory made her happy. “I remember giggling. We were doing something we shouldn’t have been.” She covered her heart. “My heart raced like never before. I knew we were dead if my dad caught us.”

“You naughty girl!” Shane laughed.

“Yeah. We…we looked through his tools, his shelves. I don’t remember finding anything. Ellen had on that sweater, the one I found.”

She looked at Shane, then let out a whooping, smack-yourself-on-the-forehead laugh.

“She took it off! I remember! She was hot, and we didn’t want to leave the shed until we’d looked through everything, so she took off the sweater. I told her to shove it behind the tool bench. I remember. I remember! Do you know what this means?” She grabbed Shane’s arm. “Daddy didn’t do anything. He probably found the sweater and tucked it up there. It would be just like him not to want to embarrass us or something. Who knows.”

“But what about him leaning over her in the den?”

Junie rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t have it all figured out, but this is a piece. I just know it. I have no idea why he wouldn’t have given the sweater back, but I do remember her taking it off. I remember.” She sighed, then whispered, “I remember.”

Junie had picked up Sarah from preschool and they’d gone to Chick’n Dip’n for lunch. She tried to coax Sarah into playing on the play set, but Sarah ate in silence. When her cell phone rang Junie was thankful for the distraction.

Mom
.

“Hi,” Ruth said in a soft voice. “Do you have a second?”

“Yes, of course.” Guilt flushed Junie’s cheeks.

“I’ve lost your father. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

The hurt in Ruth’s voice sent chills down Junie’s back. “Mom, you could never lose me. I’m so sorry about accusing Daddy.”

“Your father—” Ruth inhaled deeply. “Your father was a good man, June. He wouldn’t hurt Ellen. Hearing you say that just killed me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But I do have questions.” Junie sucked in air through her teeth, instantly regretting her words.

“We need to talk,” Ruth said.

Junie told Ruth that she was in a fast-food restaurant and she’d call her when they got home. Then she gathered Sarah and her leftover french fries and headed home.

Skype was a valuable tool when you just needed to look into someone’s eyes and see the truth that they held. Junie was thankful that she could see her mother for this conversation. She didn’t think that words alone were enough, because she knew she had to ask the tough questions that were nagging at the back of her mind. The conversation was not going to be a pleasant one, but at least it could be an honest one.

“How’s Sarah?”

“Fine, but let’s talk about us, Mom. I’m hurting; you’re hurting because of me. I’m so sorry.” Junie touched the computer screen. She watched her mother drop her eyes, and when she lifted her gaze, there was something sorrowful, almost scared, behind it.

“Honey, I would rather have this talk in person, but, well, thank goodness for technology.”

Junie watched Ruth gather her thoughts, suddenly feeling nervous. She fiddled with her fingers, and as she opened her mouth to speak, her mother’s voice came through the computer.

“Daddy was a good man, Junie. You know that. He loved you, and he loved me. But he wasn’t perfect.”

Don’t tell me. Please don’t tell me. I’m sorry. If he hurt her, I don’t really want to know.

“What you remembered about when Ellen disappeared, that was right. He didn’t come home until later, and I was mad. But that wasn’t the only time he’d done that. Your father—” Ruth moved her hand to her mouth. Junie watched it tremble.

“Mom, you don’t have to—”

Ruth held her hand up, shushing Junie. She nodded. “Yes, yes, I do. I’ve covered it up for too many years, and you have a right to know. Or maybe I just feel like I have a right to get it off my chest.”

“Mom, whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Yes, yes, I do.” Ruth looked right into Junie’s eyes.

Junie held her breath.

“Your father had an affair. It wasn’t still going on when Ellen disappeared, but the hurt and mistrust took a long time to get over. I accused him of still carrying on, and he didn’t come home because of that.”

No way. Not Daddy. He loved me. He loved you
. Junie listened in horror as her childhood fell apart before her.

“That day, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He’d gone to visit Peter at his office, to make amends.”

“Peter?”
What the hell?

Tears streamed down Ruth’s cheeks. “You’re going to think less of me, but I have to tell you. I can’t let this tear us apart, but even more important, I can’t let you think that your father did something to that little girl.”

Ellen
.

“We fought that afternoon. He’d been acting strange, but I found out later that it had to do with his work, not with…the affair. God, I can’t believe I’ve said it out loud. The
affair
.” She took a deep breath.

“Mom, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Yes, I do. Now, please, let me finish.” Ruth spoke quickly, as if the words had been begging for release for far too long. “He went to see Peter to confess the affair.”

“Peter? He had an affair with Brian’s mother? Susan?” None of it made any sense. Junie listened as her mother told her that it had happened years ago, right after they had moved into the neighborhood. Peter was working every evening and Ruth had been caring for Junie, who was just a baby.

“I’d been neglecting him, I guess.”

“Mom, this isn’t your fault. All parents neglect each other when they have new babies. I can’t believe Daddy was so selfish. The bastard.”

“No, it was more than that. I had postpartum depression, but it had gone undiagnosed. I was mean, angry all the time.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Of course you don’t. By the time we figured out what it was, Daddy had found comfort with Susan.”

“But how could you not know? She was our neighbor!” Junie was thoroughly disgusted with her father. She wanted nothing more than to hit rewind on her life and not have to know about the affair.

“He helped her out when Peter was at work, little things here and there. She needed help with gutters, a few things fixed, and none of us had any money.”

“Peter had money. He was a frickin’ attorney.” Junie fumed.

“Yes, he was, but he had an expensive house and an expensive car.”

“All luxuries
they
chose. Geez, Mom, can’t you see this?” What was wrong with her mother?

“Yes, they chose them, and for whatever reason, your father and Susan were drawn together.”

“Why’d you stay there? Why didn’t we move? I would never have stayed.”
I’d have left him! Wouldn’t I?
she wondered. Junie thought about Brian, his lies, the way the lies made her feel unworthy and even a little bit stupid, but she wasn’t ready to leave Brian. Would she have the strength to leave him if she found out he really was cheating? She wasn’t sure.

“Things were different then. You didn’t just leave. We couldn’t afford to leave. We were lucky to afford this house on your father’s salary—teachers don’t make much money, and if we moved, we’d have lost our investment and never been able to buy another house.” Ruth wiped her eyes. “Besides, it’s important that you know they never slept together.”

“What? Mom? You just said they had an affair. You
believe
they didn’t sleep together?”
What is wrong with you?
“Didn’t Selma or Mary Margaret tell you that maybe you were wrong?”

Ruth blushed. “I didn’t tell them. It was too embarrassing. June, I know what it looks like, but I also know your father. He swore to me that it never got that far. He was torn apart by the emotional affair, which he admitted went on far too long. They’d talk on the phone, or they’d meet for coffee. Believe me, it just about killed me. I hated your father, but I also loved him.”

“I hate him.” She felt like an angry teenager who was being punished. She hadn’t asked for this information, and she certainly didn’t want it.

“No, you don’t. You don’t hate your father. Marriages are complicated, June. You know that. They don’t always wrap up as neat and tidy as the Cleavers or the Brady bunch. Your father had every right to feel underappreciated and lonely, and God knows Susan did, too.”

Junie felt heat spread across her chest and climb her neck. “How can you take their side? How can you not hate her, and him? They cheated, even if they didn’t sleep together.”

“Because I have to take responsibility for my part. I was awful to your father, truly awful.”

“It was medical! Postpartum depression!” Junie stood and paced.

“June Marie, sit down. You need to hear this.”

Junie sat, crossing and uncrossing her arms, uncomfortable hearing this side of her parents’ marriage.

“Your father spent every day of his life after the affair was over making me happy. He went to great lengths, for years, right up until the day he died—”

Junie watched her bite back tears.

“Until the day he died, he made sure that I always knew where he was, what he was doing, and he communicated when he was unhappy. As a wife, you can’t ask for more than that.”

“Yes, you can.” Junie felt the respect she had for her mother diminishing with each defensive word she spoke. “You can demand fidelity. It’s your right as a wife.” Junie couldn’t believe her mother hadn’t been strong enough to stand up for herself, for their marriage. “Mom, you are the one who taught me to stand up for myself and that I deserve respect. How come you don’t believe the same about yourself? It’s so…so weak.” Junie felt guilty the second the word flew from her lips.