Where Petals Fall

by Melissa Foster

  “Might she have more flashbacks? Can you stir up memories that aren’t really there, but fabricated by insinuation?”

  Junie hadn’t thought of that. She clenched her hands together. “Can that happen?”

  “I won’t lie to you. There’s a lot of debate about hypnosis. Some believe that repressed memories are not real; others swear by them. I take them on a case-by-case basis. I’m very careful when a client is regressing not to put any ideas into their heads. I let them lead me down the trail they follow. I simply take them back to a certain time.”

  Junie looked at Shane, then reached for his hand. “What do you think?”

  “You can’t ask me that. This is your life.”

  “But I trust you,” she pleaded. Part of Junie wanted him to tell her not to do it, but a bigger part wanted to see what the past revealed.

  “I say go for it. I’ll be right here. If I see you struggling, I can indicate that to Theresa and she can bring you out of it.” He turned to Theresa. “That’s right, isn’t it? You’ll respect my opinion?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m not here to push Junie into anything, and I certainly don’t want to cause her any distress.”

  “Can I just ask one thing?” Shane asked.

  Theresa nodded.

  “I thought you were a child psychiatrist? Where does this come in?” he asked.

  “Good question. I am a child psychiatrist—one who happens to also do regressive therapy. I don’t offer it up as a recommended treatment for children unless I firmly believe their issues are rooted in some type of event or abuse that if uncovered could help them heal. For Junie, with all that she has riding on these memories, I think it might help.”

  Shane raised an eyebrow toward Junie, and she nodded, as if to say she trusted Theresa and was going through with the hypnosis.

  Junie lay on the couch, her eyes closed, hands clasped tightly together. I’ll never get hypnotized. No way. She listened to Theresa telling her to relax. Her fingers loosened their grasp. She was aware of her shoulders relaxing into the cushions. Her mind was tingly, foggy.

  It was the middle of the night. Junie woke up and looked at Ellen’s sleeping bag. It was empty. She listened, expecting Ellen to flush the toilet and come back into the room. She didn’t.

  Theresa’s voice floated by her. “What do you hear?”

  Junie clenched her fists. “I don’t know. Mewing, sort of.”

  “Where are you?” Theresa asked.

  “I’m in my bed, but I get up and follow the noise.”

  “Do you see anyone?”

  “No.” Junie hesitated, her face tensing and relaxing in unison to her fists clenching and unclenching. “I’m going downstairs. It’s dark. I’m scared.”

  “You’re okay,” Theresa assures her. “You’re watching yourself; you’re safe.”

  “The noise is getting louder. I’m following it, near the den. It’s dark, except for the light from the moon.” She licked her lips. “It’s pretty, like in a romantic movie, but the noises are getting louder. I see something.”

  Junie grew silent; a groan escaped her lips.

  “Junie, you’re okay. You’re not there. You’re watching this happen. What do you see?”

  A tear slipped down Junie’s cheek. “What’s going on?” she demanded. “What’s happening?”

  “Who do you see?” Theresa urged.

  “Daddy. Daddy! What are you doing?” she yelled.

  “It’s okay. Calm down. He can’t hear you, Junie. You’re watching, remember? Tell me what Daddy is doing.”

  “Is she okay?” Shane whispered to Theresa.

  “I don’t know what he’s doing. She’s not okay,” Junie said, answering Theresa’s question. “Ellen? Ellen what are you doing?” Junie sat bolt upright. “Ellen? Daddy?” Junie screamed.

  “Junie, what do you see?” Theresa asked.

  “Get her out, please,” Shane urged.

  “I can’t get her. Daddy? What are you doing to her? Daddy! No!”

  “When I count to three, Junie, you will wake up, and you will remember what you saw. One, two, three.”

  Junie lay still.

  “Is she okay?” Shane’s words were slathered in panic. He went to Junie’s side.

  Theresa touched Shane’s shoulder, held up her index finger.

  “Junie, can you hear me?” Theresa asked.

  Junie opened her eyes. Her hand flew to cover her heart. She breathed in fast, hurt pants.

  “You okay?” Shane asked, his arm around her.

  “Yeah,” Junie said, laying her head on his shoulder. “Wow.”

  “Just relax. Sit for a bit, and don’t try to talk.”

  Junie’s body felt oddly light, and her senses felt as if they were on steroids. She smelled creek water, as if Shane had bathed in it. She sniffed his shirt.

  “You okay?” Shane asked, leaning away from her.

  “I smell the creek.”

  “I showered at home today, thank you.” He pulled his shirt up to his nose and smelled. “Downy fresh.”

  “It’s not abnormal for your senses to carry over from the hypnosis. Do you remember what you saw?”

  Junie’s face flushed. “Yes, I think so.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “It was like I was watching a movie. Weird and not at all what I expected.”

  Theresa’s eyes trailed Junie’s face, her body language. Junie knew she didn’t want to put thoughts into her mind, so she relayed what she’d seen. “It was just like the flash of memory that I’d had. Ellen had spent the night, and I woke up in the middle of the night and her sleeping bag was empty. I went looking for her, and”—Junie cleared her throat, trying to wrap her mind around the reality of the memory—“I saw my dad leaning over her. It just makes no sense.”

  “What do you think your father was doing?”

  “I don’t know, but I do know that I have to find out.” She reached for Shane’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here. I feel better not going through this alone.”

  Shane squeezed her hand.

  “I was scared. Ellen was making these noises and jerking her feet, and when I yelled at my father, he—”

  Junie looked down at her lap.

  “What did he do, Junie?” Theresa asked.

  “He told me to go away. He said it mean, like, Get outta here. Now!” She shivered. “My dad never spoke that way to me. I can’t believe it.”

  “Do you think it wasn’t real?” Now Theresa sounded like a therapist, and it annoyed Junie.

  “You’re the therapist. Was it real?” She put her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m a little overwhelmed. He’s my father.”

  “I understand, and we can do a follow-up session next week to try to determine what it was that he was doing, which will give you time to think about it, and hopefully, it will stir your memory before then.”

  “This didn’t give me anything more than what I had recalled before going under. Nothing new came of this.”

  “Sometimes the new memories come later. Think of regression as a vortex, a portal that you’ve now opened, to allow the memories to flow through.”

  Junie turned to Shane. “What do you think?”

  Shane blushed. “I think it’s all quite extraordinary. I was frightened, actually, watching you in this other state.” He turned to Theresa and said, “Theresa watches you closely, Junie. I think you’re in good hands. She didn’t let you get frenzied, which is what I was afraid of. The real question is, can you wait a week? You’re not the most patient person.”

  “She has to wait a week. I won’t regress her any sooner than that. I want to see what she can recall naturally. Many patients recall information quite easily after their first session.”

  First session. Another week. What on earth will I recall naturally this time? The idea that she might face more memories, and face them alone, scared the hell out of Junie.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Junie folded the laundry to keep her hands busy. She set the
clothes in neat stacks on the bed, trying to figure out how to tell Brian what she’d done. She knew Brian would be angry with her about her trip to Theresa’s office, but she wasn’t sure if he’d be angrier about her being hypnotized and regressed or keeping it from him. She didn’t want to tell him now, but the guilt had eaten away at her all day, leaving her with a dull headache. She wasn’t used to keeping secrets from her husband.

  Brian came into the bedroom and emptied his pockets, placing his wallet and a few stray dollar bills on the dresser. “How was your day?” he asked.

  “I went to see Theresa today.” Shit. So much for not blurting it out.

  “What did she say about the bed-wetting? Does she have any new ideas?”

  Junie fingered the seam of a T-shirt. “I went to see her about me, actually.” She bit her lower lip.

  “You?”

  Junie nodded. “I did regression therapy to try and see why I’m having these memories of Ellen.” She took a deep breath, hoping that the nicer side of Brian that she was seeing might last. “Shane went with me.”

  Brian’s hands stopped in midair as he lifted his shirt over his head, his back facing Junie. She watched his shoulder muscles tense and ripple down his lats. He drew his shirt back down over his head and turned slowly toward her.

  “You did what?” His eyes pierced through her veil of confidence.

  Shit. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

  Brian stomped around the bedroom, his face red and tight. “Shouldn’t have told me? I’m your husband. Of course you should have told me.” He stood before her, legs planted firmly, muscles tense, arms crossed.

  “You don’t feel the need to tell me everything. Why should I tell you?” Damn it. What am I doing?

  “Is that where you want to go with this? This is your way of getting me back for not telling you about my father?”

  “No, that’s not it.” Is it? “I told you because I wanted to. I didn’t even plan to, but you were being nice to me again, and accepting Sarah, and I thought—”

  “So you thought, Let’s piss off Brian and bring up Ellen again. When you came back, I thought that was it. I thought you’d left all that stuff behind.” He stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  Junie stared at the closed door. Shit. She sat on the bed and thought about how she could fix this mess. Was she sabotaging her entire life? She kicked off her shoes and waited for him to come out.

  He yelled through the door, “And you made a fool out of me in front of Shane!”

  “I did not. Why are you bringing him into this?”

  Brian opened the door, his face freshly washed, the edges of his hair wet. “I didn’t. You did. Who brings their business partner to a therapist with them anyway?”

  “Like you would have gone?”

  “No. I would have talked some sense into you. What’s done is done. Your father’s dead. Leave it alone.”

  “I can’t. Why can’t you understand that? I didn’t ask for these memories. I don’t want them.”

  “Then don’t pursue them.”

  “I have to. Can’t you see that? I need to put them to rest, no matter what they upend.”

  “You’re willing to throw away your life, your family, for whatever your memories hold?”

  “I guess I am, and you should support me.”

  “Your father didn’t do a damn thing to my sister.” Brian left the bedroom and headed downstairs.

  “How do you know?” She was on his heels. “How do you know what my father did?”

  “I was fourteen. I’d have seen it.”

  “Adults don’t see abuse. How could you?”

  “Now your father’s a child abuser? I don’t even know you.” Brian picked up his car keys and opened the front door.

  “Where are you going? It’s eleven at night.” Junie’s heart sank. She’d done it this time. She’d never be able to untangle this mess.

  Brian stared at her, teeth clenched so tight his lips pursed. His eyes narrowed and he shook his head.

  “Don’t go out. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I’m going to the office.”

  Junie bristled with the slam of the door. Her heart shattered. She wondered if, on some subconscious level, she was pushing him away on purpose. Why couldn’t she keep her big mouth shut? Who was she kidding? She’d known the outcome of the conversation would not be good, and she’d told him anyway. She was just no good at lying. Ironically, she had her father to thank for that.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  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.