Where Petals Fall

by Melissa Foster

  “Sarah!” Finally her voice boomed from her throat. Sarah, not Ellen. Sarah, she silently repeated. She reached for her frightened daughter, who was caught up in a full-blown tizzy. They’d been through this before, and the familiarity didn’t make it any easier. Junie knew what she was in for—an hour of crying and screaming over three drops of blood. She looked toward the sky, silently pleading for guidance. All she wanted was to help her daughter, console her, take the fear away from her, and run from Ellen’s image. She dropped her eyes to the roses. Her mouth formed a hard line. She stared at the roses as if they were the devil incarnate, wishing they’d ignite into flames and be gone. What the hell were they doing there, anyway?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Junie let out a loud sigh and fell backward onto the bed, thankful to have a moment’s peace. Her arms splayed above her head; her hair surrounded her like a golden halo. The evening had been flat-out exhausting, between settling Sarah down and wrestling with memories—were they memories, and if so, could she trust them? Whatever they were, the images were wearing her out. She found it hard to concentrate on her daughter and her poor mother. Her mom was the one who really needed support, and Junie had basically left her to fend for herself while she tried to figure out the mess in her mind. I’m a lousy mother and a lousy daughter.

  The cell phone rang on the bedside table. Junie sat up and looked at the name, then at the clock. Really?

  “I thought you were going to call when you got there. I’ve waited all day.” Why was she being such a bitch?

  “Sorry. There was a lot to do. I was running all day long.”

  Junie pursed her lips. “Mm-hmm.”

  “How’s Sarah?”

  Exhausting. “Good. I called your office.”

  Silence.

  “They said you left the area late. Where’d you go?” Junie was fueled by the aggravation of the images of Ellen, Sarah’s fit, and the loss of her father…God, Daddy. She could barely see straight. She felt abandoned and hurt, and now angry. Brian was the lucky recipient of Junie’s wrath. She knew she sounded like the quintessential jealous wife, someone she’d never been before, and at the moment, she didn’t care.

  “They were wrong. I was there all day.”

  “Stacy was wrong? Miss overly efficient Stacy? Really, Brian? What’s going on?” Junie paced the bedroom, waiting for his answer and knowing that no matter what his excuse, she was in the mood for a fight and Brian would be the lucky recipient of her wrath.

  “I guess. Anyway, I know we argued, and I wanted to apologize.”

  “Brian, Stacy doesn’t get things wrong.” Maybe the distance between them had already become bigger than she imagined. The thought of another woman prickled at the back of her neck. It was a crazy thought—she knew it was. Brian was trustworthy. He loved her. He loved Sarah. But lately, he’d been pulling away. She might be reaching for straws, but better to reach than to ignore them until they poked you in the ass. “Brian”—she hesitated—“is there someone else? I mean—”

  “What? No.”

  Silence thickened between them.

  “I stopped by Dad’s office to say goodbye.”

  “You did?” Her anger softened. It pained her to see the space between him and his father, and she hoped that maybe this was Brian’s way of reaching out to Peter. Maybe Brian was making an effort to patch thing up between them. Now she felt horrible. I’m such a bitch.

  “Junie, we might have fought but God, I wouldn’t ever cheat. Ever. I stopped for coffee, then swung by afterward. I just didn’t want to go to the house. The memories are too painful. I must’ve just been out of the office when you called. I might have been a little late, but not much.”

  Junie ran her hand through her hair, snagging on a tangle. She looked at herself as she walked by the mirror. She had bags under her eyes, her hair was frizzy. She was a mess. She exhaled long and loud. “I’m sorry. It’s just…losing Daddy, and now seeing Ellen—”

  “You saw Ellen again?” he asked.

  Junie nodded.

  “June?”

  “Yes, yes, I saw her again. The same thing. She was screaming. I took Sarah to the creek, and—”

  “Why would you take Sarah to the creek? I thought I told you that I didn’t want her going there,” he fumed.

  “What? You never told me that,” Junie said. “You said you didn’t want to go there with me. What’s the big deal? We went for a walk.” She sat on the edge of the bed, listening to Brian huffing angrily into the receiver. “I thought it might help me remember something about Ellen.”

  “Would you please stop with Ellen? Focus on the things that matter. Focus on filling out the papers for Sarah’s doctor and helping your mother get through your father’s death. She lost her husband, Junie. She needs you. Sarah needs you. Ellen is gone. Gone. You can’t help Ellen, but you can help them.”

  Junie’s head fell forward. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Junie?” he said tenderly.

  “Yeah?” she whispered. “I just thought…what if it’s a sign. What if, after all these years, she’s trying to tell me something?”

  “You’ve got to let it go. The past is the past. You can’t bring her back.”

  “Maybe, but I can’t just ignore it. It’s driving me crazy. You just don’t understand.”

  She was met with silence.

  “Brian?”

  When the silence stretched to the point of discomfort, Junie said, “I’ll be here for Mom, but I have to follow my gut on this. I owe that to Ellen.”

  “Even if it tears your family apart?”

  His words hit her like a kick to the gut. They were slipping apart, like a balloon rising to the sky, slipping through a child’s fingers. Her throat was tight. Did she really have to make a choice? Could she make a choice? On one side, she had Brian and Sarah, and on the other, Ellen’s memories. It wasn’t an easy choice. She wanted Brian and Sarah. She loved them, but she also loved Ellen, and she began to wonder why Brian was threatened by her memory. He had never been the type of husband to follow her every move or to complain about her decisions. Why now?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Junie settled Sarah in front of the television and sat with Ruth in the kitchen, drinking tea and reading the morning paper. Maybe there was some truth to what Brian had said—maybe Ellen was taking over her life. She needed to be there for her mother, mentally and physically. God knew that her mother had always been there for her.

  “Mom, I thought we’d spend the day together. You know, maybe do a little shopping or something.”

  “I was thinking about sitting here all day and eating that entire cake that you made. You know, if you keep baking like that, we’re all going to weigh six hundred pounds.” A conspiratorial smile spread across her lips.

  Junie laughed. “You’re lucky. I wanted to bake last night, but I fought the urge.”

  “Did you hear from Brian?”

  Junie closed her eyes against a wave of annoyance. Brian. It’s always about Brian. “Yeah, late last night.”

  “Everything okay?” Ruth asked tentatively.

  Her mother was the only person Junie knew who could ask one hundred questions with just two words. She mulled over her answer. I don’t know. I wonder if we’ve grown too far apart to fix. Maybe he is seeing someone else. Maybe I’m just a bitch. “Yup, it’s all good.”

  “Still arguing about the questionnaire?” Ruth smirked.

  “Wha…How?”

  “Before he left.” She ran her finger around the rim of her cup. “Brian asked me to convince you to fill it out.”

  “Great. Now he’s got you in on this?”

  Ruth leaned across the table. “She’s my granddaughter.” She looked toward the den. “Why not fill it out, Junie? So they find an emotional issue? Who cares? I didn’t raise you to be one of those parents who thinks her kid is above…anything.”

  Junie stared into her mug.

  “June, listen to me.”

 
Junie lifted her eyes to meet her mother’s serious gaze.

  “There’s no shame in that little girl, and don’t you dare make it seem like there should be.”

  “I’m not.” Am I?

  “Yeah, well, the longer you wait to do this, the more she hears you and Brian fighting about it, the more she’ll think something is wrong with her, and there’s nothing wrong with that perfect little girl.”

  Junie looked away from her mother’s direct stare. “See, even you don’t think there’s anything wrong with her.”

  “Wrong? No. Different? Troubled? Off? Yes. She’s crawled so far into herself that she’s a shell of who she used to be. Her personality has disappeared. Our little girl doesn’t talk, Junie, she doesn’t smile, laugh, or play.”

  Junie stood and went to the window. She spoke in a rushed whisper. “Don’t you think I know that? Come on, Mom. I get it.” She set her mug in the sink and crossed her arms. “What’s the questionnaire going to change?” Junie sat across from her mother, leaning forward so their faces nearly touched. “She has no emotional issues.”

  “That hour-long fit last night wasn’t an issue?”

  Okay, maybe. “Pfft. She was upset, freaked out by the blood.”

  “The fact that she shies away from people, from her own father, isn’t an issue?” Ruth pushed.

  “She doesn’t shy away.” Does she?

  “When’s the last time she went on a play date?” When Junie didn’t answer, Ruth asked, “Did you have to change the sheets this morning?”

  I can’t go down this path, not today. “Okay, listen, so she has some stuff to deal with. I get it, okay? But that questionnaire—they’re looking to label her as something, and I don’t think kids regress without some kind of physical issue. They’ve ruled out abuse, so it has to be something medical.”

  “Why, June Marie? Why does it have to be something medical? When did you get your medical degree?”

  Junie stared her down, feeling betrayed and ridiculous all at once. The truth was, the more she thought about Sarah, the more she believed her issues might be purely emotional, but she just didn’t want to accept that path. After all, wouldn’t that indicate her faults as a mother?

  “Can we please just enjoy our day together? I really need some downtime, and I’m sure you can use a distraction, too.” Junie reached for her mother’s hand.

  Ruth put both hands around her mug.

  Junie bristled. She felt as if she were running down an unfamiliar path toward a darkened cave, Brian, Ruth, and Sarah standing before the entrance to the cave, and Ellen just inside. As she neared the entrance, Sarah lifted lonely eyes, Ruth shook her head, making a tsk sound, and Brian whispered, “Make your choice.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  They drove through the cemetery gates. Junie had convinced Ruth that they all needed a day of activity, and Ruth wanted to visit Ralph’s grave before heading out. She pulled into the parking lot and immediately recognized Peter’s Mercedes.

  Junie helped Sarah from her car seat, watching her mother hesitate as she stepped from the car. Ruth peered in the direction of Ralph’s grave. Her fingers gripped the edge of the door.

  “You okay, Mom?” Junie stood beside her.

  “Yes, yes, fine. I still can’t believe he’s gone,” she said.

  They moved slowly toward the grave, and Junie could feel her mother gathering strength. Peter stood, facing Ralph’s grave, his shoulders rounded forward, his head bowed. Junie and Ruth approached from behind, linked together by Sarah’s small hands.

  “Peter, how are you?” Junie stood behind him.

  He turned doleful eyes toward them, a bouquet of roses in his right hand.

  Junie’s breath caught in her throat. She took a step backward, casting her eyes away from the roses.

  “He was a good man.” He set the flowers on the freshly turned earth and embraced Ruth. “I’m so sorry.”

  Sarah slipped behind Junie’s legs, tugging her mother’s arm toward the parking lot.

  Ruth wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, nodding. “Yes, he was a good man.”

  Junie turned toward Sarah, giving her a stern Not now look. The tips of Sarah’s white sneaker touched the edge of Junie’s dark shoes. Images hit her fast and hard—a white sneaker illuminated by the streetlight on the Olsons’ driveway. Peter appearing from the dark backyard, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees the sneaker, jogging over and swooping it up. Disappearing again into the cover of the night.

  “What do you think, Junie?”

  Junie hadn’t heard the conversation. She stared at Sarah’s sneaker, her heart pounding against her ribs.

  “Junie?” Ruth repeated.

  Junie looked up, her mind reeling. When was that? Did it mean something? “Sorry, Mom. Um, what?”

  “I was asking Peter about having dinner with us next week. Are you up for it?” she asked.

  “Yes, yeah, sure.” Stop it! You’re making yourself crazy, overthinking everything. Junie wondered where the sneaker fit into her crazy memories. Why was it significant? Maybe it wasn’t even Ellen’s. She was definitely losing her mind. Surely she’d seen Peter picking up after Ellen a million times—hadn’t she? She pulled at memories that must be there somewhere, but the only ones that appeared were of Peter huddled over his work, the lamp illuminating his desk like a beacon in the darkened den. She couldn’t remember Peter ever picking up shoes or toys after Ellen, day or night. In fact, she could barely remember him being around. She had only vague memories of him arriving home in one of his dark suits, briefcase in hand, but he had never been a hands-on father with Ellen.

  Peter turned thoughtfully toward the grave. “I just wanted to say goodbye. Ralph had been so kind to Ellen and Brian.” Peter looked into Junie’s eyes. “Do you remember the summer Ellen disappeared? He was preaching to you both about summer learning.”

  “No,” she said. How much of my life is missing? Junie ran through her memories of the summer when Ellen disappeared. There weren’t many, and she couldn’t be sure of the timing. Near as she could tell, the last memory of Ellen that she had was them skipping to school the morning that she’d disappeared. She wondered about when she’d seen her at the edge of the woods, which she thought had to have been close to when she’d disappeared at the end of June—the trees were full, flowers in full bloom. She remembered the police and their questions, and her next memory was of her and Ruth buying school supplies, which brought her to the end of August. She was pretty sure that she’d lost the memories of almost the entire summer when Ellen had disappeared.

  “Ralph had a way with kids. He was always teaching them something science related.” Ruth’s eyes softened. She looked down at Sarah. “Poor Sarah will barely remember him, if she does at all.”

  Sarah clung to her mother’s legs, her face buried in the backs of her thighs.

  “Life moves fast, Ruth,” Peter said, “but somewhere in her mind, the memory of her grandfather will live on, if only as shadows. I’m sure she won’t lose him altogether.”

  Like you lost Ellen? Junie instinctively grasped Sarah’s hand.

  “How’s Susan?” Ruth asked Peter.

  Junie watched their exchange. She knew that Susan had kept in touch with Brian in a very peripheral, duty-bound way. She called every year on Christmas, and each time she called, Brian endured the same strained and limited conversation: “Sarah’s fine. Junie’s well. Work’s good.” She had always assumed that it was the same between Peter and Susan.

  “She sends her love. She wished she could have come for the service, but she just…” His voice trailed off.

  “It’s okay. I know.” She nodded. “Too many harsh memories. Please, give her my love, too.”

  Junie realized that Peter and Susan must have been in closer touch than Brian and his mother, and she softened toward Brian, who now somehow appeared like the outsider in the family.

  “I will.” Peter turned to Junie. “Brian left?”

  Junie’s he
ad snapped up. “Didn’t he come see you?”

  Peter let out a slight breath of a laugh. “No, he did not.” He looked off into the distance. “I’m afraid too much has transpired in our lives. I think I remind him of all we’ve lost.”

  A pang shot through Junie’s chest. “He…he didn’t come to see you at the office on his way out of town?” He lied?

  Peter shook his head. “Don’t I wish.” Peter turned to leave. He crouched down, smiling as he looked at Sarah. “Hey there, pumpkin. Grandpa has cookies for you at his house. Will you come visit me?”

  “Of course she will.” Junie’s voice carried a note of worry. What the hell is Brian up to?

  Sarah’s eyes grew wide. She clenched her mother’s hand so tightly that Junie gasped.

  “Sarah!”

  Sarah burst into tears, tugging her toward the parking lot, shaking her head vehemently from side to side.

  Junie tried Brian’s tactic. “Sarah Jane Olson, you stop that right now.” Sarah continued to pull away, mews of discomfort coming from behind her clenched lips. Junie’s chiding had no effect on Sarah, which left Junie feeling like a heel.

  Peter forced a smile. “She’s been through a lot. It’s okay.” He put a hand on Junie’s arm for a brief second, sending Sarah into a full-blown tizzy of screams and kicking fits. “Tell Brian…well, just tell him I love him and I’m proud of him.”

  Oh, trust me, I will.

  “That was flat-out embarrassing,” Ruth said quietly. “Really, Junie, something has to be done.”

  It was embarrassing, but she’d tried the harsh approach that Brian thought Sarah needed, and it had done no good. Maybe what she needed wasn’t tough love, but a more direct, meaningful approach. She looked down at her daughter, who had calmed down after Peter left, and she wondered why she’d had such a visceral reaction. What better way to find out than to ask?

  “Sarah, honey,” she said, kneeling in front of her. “Why were you pulling me away?”

  Sarah’s thumb was jammed in her mouth, her eyes cast downward.