Sarah hadn’t reacted one way or the other when she mentioned that their neighbor Clara Konel would be babysitting for a few hours. In fact, Sarah hadn’t given any indication that she’d even heard her mother. Clara, a sixty-seven-year-old widow, had a gentle way about her, and since Sarah had started regressing soon after their move to the neighborhood, the Sarah that Clara knew was the only Sarah she had ever known. Clara treated her as if she didn’t have issues. She chatted to her while they sat together even if Sarah failed to respond, and if Sarah found herself tied in knots over something that didn’t sit right, Clara spoke softly, consoling her and letting her know she was safe. Junie thought Clara had the patience of a saint, and as she left the house that afternoon, she wondered if maybe Sarah didn’t have any medical issues at all but simply preferred being treated like the baby she once was. She’d have to remember to ask Theresa about that.
Junie sat on the edge of the couch, legs crossed, her foot bouncing up and down nervously. What had she been thinking, coming alone to see Theresa? She needed Shane’s support, she realized, swiping at a bead of sweat that formed across her forehead. Maybe she should just leave, tell Theresa she’d made a mistake. I have no idea what I’m doing here.
“I can’t say I’m surprised to see you back so soon.”
Theresa’s voice startled Junie. “Am I that transparent?” That much of a loser?
“No.” Theresa laughed. “Hypnosis sometimes sneaks up on people, unearthing memories that come back too quickly, or need exploring sooner rather than later.”
Junie shook her head. “You know, it’s not really because of the hypnosis—or maybe it is. My mom and I talked today, and I just found out that my father had an affair.”
Theresa shook her head, her smile fading to a serious line. “How does that make you feel?”
“Angry, like a fool. I don’t really know.” Junie sat back, relaxing into the cushions of the couch. “It’s funny. I knew you’d ask me that exact question, and trust me, I’ve asked myself that at least one hundred times in the past two hours, but I still don’t have an answer.” She realized that her leg was still; she was no longer nervous. She needed to clear her mind.
Theresa leaned one elbow on the arm of her chair. “You know, Junie, I’m a therapist, but I’m a normal person, too. I’m sure I ask all of the typical therapeutic questions, but I don’t judge you. In fact, if anything, I put myself in your place. I think about how I would feel if that happened to me, and then I try to figure out how I can help.”
“So, how would it make you feel?” Junie smirked.
“Angry, I think, and like my past were not real, as if it had all been a farce maybe.”
Junie nodded. “I do kinda feel like that. There’s this piece of me that feels betrayed, but then again, I know I shouldn’t. I wasn’t his wife. There’s another piece that feels like I want to protect my mom, and so I’m angry because he hurt her.” Junie still hadn’t told Theresa that the affair was with Brian’s mother, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to reveal that information. She wasn’t ready to add it to the list of things that could possibly wedge a wider gap between her and Brian.
“That’s all very natural.”
“Natural, or normal?” Junie asked.
“Do you need a difference? Who’s to say what normal is?”
Now she’d struck a nerve. Junie bristled. “I actually hate that word, normal. I don’t know why I said it. So, I guess natural is a good choice.”
“Do you want to talk about your father’s affair?”
Junie thought about the question. She rubbed her temples, weeding through the urge to lie. She pushed away the crap and decided to shoot from the hip. “Not really. I mean, yes, I want to talk about him and what I feel. I think that’s important, but what I really want to do, I think, is find out more about what I repressed.”
Theresa’s eyes grew wide. “You want to talk about something that you’ve remembered?”
“No.” Junie clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. “What I remembered, my mom explained to me. I want to see what else I can remember. The initial image I saw of Ellen before the hypnosis, when I was in the yard with Sarah. Ellen’s arms were above her head. She was screaming—that’s what I want to explore.”
“Okay. Let’s talk about this a bit first. What do you think you might remember? What do you hope you might remember?” Theresa sat back, picked up a note pad, and scribbled something.
Junie tried to make out what she was writing but was unable. She shifted in her seat. “I have no idea. I mean, I never would have guessed that my father had an affair, or that Ellen had seizures. I feel like…as you said, what I remember from my childhood might not be real.” She thought about what she was saying. Was it true? Did she really feel like her memories were not accurate? She wasn’t sure what she thought. Maybe. “The more I think about Brian, and the way he behaved after Ellen disappeared and the way he treated me after my dad died, the more I feel like something is…off.”
“What do you mean?” Theresa asked.
“I don’t even know what I mean.” Junie threw her hands up and sighed. “I never lie to Brian—ever. That’s just how I roll. I’m like Honest Abe, but today he called to apologize, and I didn’t tell him I was coming here.”
Theresa tilted her head. “Do you think you were afraid that he’d judge you, or be angry that you were coming?”
“Maybe. Yes,” she admitted. “He would be angry. He would judge me.”
“Was he upset that you brought Shane?”
“Yes, a little.”
“Is that why you came alone?”
“Do you ever ask easy questions?” Junie fidgeted. “What’s my favorite flavor of ice cream? Do I prefer jeans or skirts?”
“Jeans. I can tell.”
They both laughed.
Junie leaned forward, her voice softening. “I’m not really sure why I came alone. Maybe I didn’t want to piss Brian off even more. I don’t know. I knew I wanted to come, so I made the appointment. I’m not sure I gave it much thought at all.” Junie felt relieved by the words she spoke. She’d been brave enough to come to the appointment, she had yet to run out, and she was dead set on going through with the hypnosis. “I believe in this, if even to open a tiny little view into my childhood. I don’t really like what I’ve found out so far, but it’s put my mind at rest with regard to those awful thoughts about my father. Now I’d like to do the same with the rest of the memories.”
“And what if you find something less savory?”
Junie felt the heat of Theresa’s gaze. She knew she was looking beyond the words Junie spoke. She was looking for nonverbal clues to what Junie was thinking. Junie raised her arms to cross them, then remembered that the action would signal her discomfort. Sheesh, she could tell that the minute I walked in. She crossed her arms.
“More unsavory than my father having an affair? The way I see it, if I’ve repressed something more, something about Ellen that connects to her disappearance, then I can help put closure to it all for Brian, which would help our marriage, too. Besides, I think I knew something was wrong with Ellen. I think I repressed that memory of my father leaning over her because I didn’t want to think about what it meant—that she had something wrong with her. Does that make sense?”
“Possibly.” Theresa’s voice carried a thread of doubt. “Before we get started, do you want to talk about Sarah and her recent acknowledgments?”
“I’m afraid to.” Junie leaned forward. “Was that incredible, or what?”
“What do you think it means?”
Junie shook her head. “I don’t know, but it does make me think that maybe there isn’t something medically wrong with her.”
“Have you completed that questionnaire yet?” Theresa asked.
“I started to, but I just couldn’t deal with it. I will now. I’m not afraid to face it anymore.” She remembered her earlier thoughts. “Do you think there’s any chance that she just prefers to be
treated like a toddler? That she’s doing this volitionally?”
“Volitionally?” Theresa looked up, considering the question. “Selective mutism, that’s a consideration.”
“Selective mutism? I’ve heard of that, but doesn’t that have to do with being able to talk in some situations and not in others, like panic attacks?”
“It can, but not always. Selective mutism is usually driven by some sort of trauma, and it can vary in degrees. Some people don’t speak at all. They just stop altogether, while others might speak only around those she or he feels safe around.”
“Like Sarah talking only to me.” Junie uncrossed her arms and thought about Sarah’s silence. “But she hasn’t been through any trauma.”
“It’s not always driven by trauma. Some children—and adults—simply decide to remain silent, for whatever reason. Sarah is regressing, too, so that complicates the diagnosis. We’ll keep working with her and keep this in mind, but regression does not usually accompany the mutism.”
Junie’s hope deflated. She looked down at her lap.
“Junie, whatever is going on with Sarah, we’ll figure it out, but there’s no magic bullet. A diagnosis, whatever it ends up being, does not always equate to a cure.”
Junie nodded, wishing she could cover her ears and yell, Nanananana. I can’t hear you.
Falling under hypnosis was easier this time than the last. A tingling sensation came over Junie’s limbs, and the darkness behind her closed lids lit up with tiny sparkles until she felt numb. She wasn’t scared. Her body felt as if it were floating, light, unencumbered.
“Where are you?” Theresa’s voice sounded far away.
“I’m at Katie’s house.” Junie stood beside Katie in her front yard. The bright yellow shutters of Katie’s house sparkled in the sun.
“What are you doing?”
“Katie is showing me her new bike, but she won’t let me touch it.” Junie watched her younger self look over the bicycle. “I want to touch it. I want to try it, to ride it. She says I might break it.”
“What do you feel?” Theresa asked.
“Mad. I feel like she’s being a snot.” Junie’s body lay still; her fingers began to twitch. “I hate when she does this. She acts better than me. I hate when she does that.”
“Junie, do you know when it is? What day, or what time? Is it daytime?”
“Yes.”
“Do you see anyone else?”
Junie’s index finger shot out. She lifted her hand. “Ellen. She’s across the street, crossing over toward us.” Junie smiled. “She’s whispering to me. She wants…she wants to play with us.”
Junie’s face pinched; her jaw clenched.
“Junie, what is it? What do you see?”
Junie shook her head. She fisted her right hand.
“Who is there?”
“Me. Ellen. Katie.” Junie breathed harder. “Katie’s being mean. She won’t let Ellen play with us. She called her a name.”
Theresa waited. When Junie didn’t elaborate, she asked, “What did Katie say?”
A tear slipped down Junie’s cheek. “She said…she called Ellen a snitch.” Junie clenched her fist again. “She’s saying mean things. Ellen is yelling at her. I…I can’t hear what she’s saying.”
“Junie, you’re watching. It’s okay. Take a deep breath.” She waited while Junie took a deep breath. “Good. Now, what happens next?”
“Ellen is running away. No! Don’t go, Ellen.” Junie made little panting noises. “Ellen, wait! I hate Katie. I hate her.”
“Junie, stay with me a minute. You’re watching Ellen. What else do you see? Do you see any cars on the road?” Theresa leaned forward, listening.
“Yes, a van. A gray van, down the street.”
“And where’s Ellen?”
“Walking toward the van, toward the park.” Junie panted again. “Ellen, wait!” She licked her lips. “I can’t catch her. Katie is calling me names. I turn around and I want to shut Katie up.”
“Junie, forget Katie. Can you look back down the street? Do you see or hear Ellen?”
“I hate Katie. I stick my tongue out at her; then I turn back and look for Ellen. I can’t see her. Ellen?” Junie broke out in a cold sweat. “Ellen!”
“Junie, concentrate. Where is the van?”
“Driving by me.”
“Can you see who is driving?”
Junie shook her head. “The windows are dark. I can’t see.” Junie clenched her fingers together. “I see her. I see Ellen. She’s in the field behind the seesaw at the park.”
Theresa let out a relieved sigh. “Good, okay. Junie, I want you to breathe in and out slowly, okay? Let’s do this together. Breathe.”
Junie took a deep inhalation and blew it out slowly.
“Good. Let’s do it again.”
She repeated the breath.
“Now, remember, you are here with me. You are watching Ellen. Where are you?”
“Walking past the park, on the sidewalk.”
“Where’s the van?”
“Gone. I don’t see it.” Junie gasped. “Ellen is calling me. She’s at the edge of the woods.” In a thin voice, Junie said, “She’s calling me over.”
Junie was trapped. She wanted to follow Ellen, but she knew she wasn’t allowed. They’d done it once before, gone into the woods and spied on the kids at Lovers’ Rock. They’d been lucky not to get caught.
Junie kept walking, ignoring Ellen’s taunts.
Ellen slipped into the woods. Junie panicked. Her heart beat fast and hard. “I can’t let Ellen go in there alone. She might get in trouble. She needs me.” Junie became aware of Theresa’s voice.
“Junie, where are you now? Are you still on the sidewalk?”
“I’m walking home. I didn’t want to leave, but my father said bad things could happen in the woods.”
“You’re walking home. Do you see the van anywhere?”
Junie shook her head. “There are no cars. My chest hurts. I feel horrible for leaving Ellen. I wanna go back. I need to go back. Daddy said bad things could happen. I don’t want her to get hurt. I’m so scared.”
“Junie, you’re safe. You’re here with Theresa, in my office. You’re watching the scene with Ellen. You’re safe.”
Junie breathed fast. Her feet jerked. “I need to find her. Daddy would be disappointed if I let anything happen to her. He told me. He said she was rascally, and that I needed to keep her on the straight and narrow.”
Theresa lifted her eyebrows. “Your father told you that? Okay, what are you doing? Did you go find her?”
Junie nodded. “I’m hurrying. I don’t see her. A bush prickled me, but I pushed through anyway. I can’t see her!” A tear slid down her cheek. “Where is she? Daddy will be so mad.”
“I want you to take another deep breath and blow it out slowly, Junie. Okay?”
Junie did as she was instructed.
“You’re in the woods. Take me there. What do you see?”
“Trees, bushes, Lovers’ Rock.”
“What do you hear?”
Junie squinted. She angled her head away from the couch, listening. She whispered, “A boy. I hear a boy. I’m scared. I want to go home.”
“Do you recognize the voice?”
Junie’s hands trembled. She shook her head.
“Do you see Ellen?”
“No. I see…woods. Trees.” Junie was silent, her eyebrows furrowed. “Water. The creek. I can smell the creek.” Junie clenched the sides of the cushion. “Someone is there. I hear him. I hear talking.”
“Who is it? Do you recognize the voice?”
Junie hesitated, trying to figure it out. “I don’t know. Where’s Ellen? I can’t find Ellen.” Her lower lip quivered.
“Junie, I’m going to bring you back now.”
“No.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her chest heaved up and down with each breath.
“Junie, we can continue this another time. I think it’s time I brought you back.
I’m going to count to three, and when I say three, you will be back here with me, in this room. You’ll remember what you saw.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
The voice haunted her, but it was the words that cinched it for her. How many times had Junie heard him call Ellen “squirt”? That had to be the day that Ellen disappeared. She’d been at Katie’s house, which was not a common occurrence. There was no other explanation.
Junie concentrated on what she’d remembered as she sliced through the cherry crumble bars, now draped in a thick, hardened layer of chocolate and pistachios. Life sucks, she thought to herself. Life Sucks Bars. Just like that, the cherry crumble bars had a new name. Junie’s best names came when she was baking—usually baking out of frustration or elation. The Midnight Madness Bars, thick blueberry, cream cheese, and fudge brownies that were concocted and named the night she found out she was pregnant with Sarah, had been born much the same way.
Ca-chunk, ca-chunk. Junie sliced through the thick bars.
Brian never told her he was with Ellen. He said he couldn’t find her. Maybe it wasn’t Brian. Maybe she was mistaken—she’d been wrong about her father, about the shed.
Ca-chunk, ca-chunk.
Junie didn’t know what to think.
Sarah walked into the room, a paper in her hand.
Ca-chunk, ca-chunk. Squirt.
Sarah laid her drawing on the table and walked out of the kitchen.
Junie glanced at the paper, realized it was a drawing of some sort, but couldn’t concentrate on foolishness. She went to work releasing her frustration in the cutting of the bars.
The front door opened. Junie’s heartbeat throbbed in her ears. Ca-chunk, ca-chunk. Squirt.
She listened as Brian said hello to Sarah. Her hands began to shake.
Ca-chunk, ca-chunk. Squirt.
His footsteps neared, stopping at the threshold of the kitchen. Junie ground her teeth together, her eyes trained on the Life Sucks Bars.
Brian put his hand on the small of her back and kissed her cheek. She stiffened, closed her eyes.
“You okay?”
Where Petals Fall Page 18
