“Mm-hm.” Don’t touch me.
“Sorry I’m a little late. What’d you make? Smells delicious.” He reached for a bar.
Junie’s knuckles turned white, the pads of her fingers clenched around the handle of the knife.
“These are amazing,” Brian gushed. “You”—he kissed her cheek—“are amazing.”
Ca-chunk, ca-chunk. Squirt. She felt confined. Brian stood too close. Ca-chunk, ca-chunk.
Relief swept through Junie when Brian took a bar and left the room.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The next morning, Junie ripped the sheet from Sarah’s mattress with such force that the edge of it caught and tore along the seam. Junie gathered the sheet in her arms and sat down on the edge of the bed. She looked around Sarah’s room. She loved being a mother even if she wasn’t a very good one. Tears welled in her eyes. Ellen never had a chance to experience being a mother. She never had a chance to fall in love for the first time, or make out at Lovers’ Rock. She didn’t get to go crazy at college, drinking until the room spun or sleeping with guys she didn’t remember in the morning.
Junie brought the dry part of the sheet to her cheek, held it there, collecting her tears.
Squirt.
There must be a mistake. She hoped there was a mistake. Surely she was remembering wrong, had the days confused. Ellen’s frightened face flashed before her. Peter picking up her sneaker in the middle of the night. Brian’s voice echoing in the woods. It was all too much. Junie dropped the sheet on the floor and fell across Sarah’s bed, sobbing into the pillow.
She felt Sarah’s hand on her back, barely a weight, more of a presence. She turned red eyes toward her daughter’s worried face.
“Oh God. I truly suck,” she cried into the pillow. Junie wiped her eyes and sat up, sniffling through the tears that remained. “Come here, honey. I’m okay.” She lifted Sarah up onto her lap and held her tight. Please don’t let it be Brian.
Brian passed by the open doorway, then came back and stood in the doorway. His eyes trailed over the bundled sheets that lay at Junie’s feet, then over his daughter, her arms around her mother’s neck, cheek against her chest. Their eyes locked. He shook his head.
Junie buried her face in her daughter’s soft neck as she listened to his footsteps fade down the hallway. She closed her eyes, hoping she was wrong and fearing she was right. She squeezed Sarah when the front door thumped shut.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“When will the weekend get here?” Junie asked Shane.
“Something going on this weekend?” he asked.
Junie closed the oven door and sighed. “No. I think I want to go visit Mom, make sure she’s okay.”
“You guys made up?”
Junie knew that Shane secretly craved strong familial relationships, and she saw the hope for Junie and Ruth’s reconciliation in his eyes. His own family was a bit cantankerous toward one another. “Yeah. Turns out my father was teaching Ellen about photosynthesis. Mom says I was not so interested.”
“Gee, what a surprise.”
Junie swatted him with a baking cloth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, Junie.” He grabbed the clipboard and pretended to read it, then rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling. “You think I don’t know you by now? Anything fact oriented, organized, learning, you hate it. Think I don’t see you fading out when you’re reviewing the orders and deliveries? I know you scan. You don’t even know how to reconcile.”
Junie frowned. “Of course I do. I’m not an idiot.”
“Nope, far from it. In fact, I think you might be brilliant, but you didn’t get that way from studying, or even from listening intently. I think you’re brilliant about what interests you, and all other things, well, let’s just say you’re right brained. If it isn’t interesting to you, you don’t clutter your mind with it.”
Junie sank down into a chair. “Am I that shallow?” She thought about all of the areas of her life that were systematically coming apart at the seams. Had she caused them all? Had she been too self-centered, not involved enough with her daughter and her husband? Did she ignore the important things in life because she was disinterested? She thought about her recent conversations with Brian and realized that for the past few months, they’d spoken of nothing other than parenting and, more recently, Ellen. Was that her doing? Did she dismiss other more important things he might want to talk about? Was that why he seemed so distant? Oh God. Does he think I don’t care about his job? His happiness? Am I perpetuating the rift between us? Brian’s voice came back to her from the memory she’d recalled. Squirt! Her guilt instantly vanished.
The front door chimed, and Shane went to greet the customer.
“Junie, there’s someone here to see you,” he called into the kitchen.
Katie stood with her back to the counter, a black purse thrown over the shoulder of her flowing tunic.
“Katie?”
When Katie turned around, Junie saw that she was upset. Her eyes had dark circles under them; she fretted with her hands. Junie took her arm and led her to a table in the corner.
“Are you okay?” Junie didn’t know what to make of Katie’s surprise visit. They weren’t friends, and Junie hadn’t even told her the name of her bakery. “Shane,” Junie called. “Can you please bring some coffee?”
Katie sat with her purse in her lap, folding and unfolding her hands. She tucked a curl behind her ear and leaned forward, whispering, “I’m sorry. I just—it’s been so many years. I need to talk to you.”
“Okay, sure.” The bakery suddenly felt very large, as if her words might echo.
Shane brought two mugs of coffee. “Would you like a muffin? Fresh from the oven.” He furrowed his brow at Junie.
Junie shrugged.
“No. No, thank you,” Katie said quickly, then looked back down at her lap, which was in sharp contrast to the overly enthusiastic woman Junie had spoken to the other day.
“Katie, what’s wrong? Did I do something the other day? Did I somehow offend you?”
“Oh, no,” she said. “It’s nothing like that.” She took a sip of the black coffee, wiped her mouth on a napkin, then said, “Is it okay to talk here?” She looked around the bakery.
Shane had disappeared into the kitchen.
“Yes, of course. I mean, I don’t know what you want to talk about, so I assume it’s fine.” What the hell?
Katie scooted forward until her rib cage rested against the table, her purse tucked beneath it. She spoke in a hushed tone, causing Junie to lean forward and turn her head to the side so she could catch every word.
“I wasn’t sure if I should tell you or not, but I took your visit as a sign. You know?”
No, I don’t. Junie’s stomach tightened. She didn’t like the direction Katie’s tone was taking. Hadn’t she had enough drama in her life lately? She looked outside at the people walking by. She couldn’t help but think they were lucky. Her life was falling apart in droves, and those people were walking around with smiles on their faces, oblivious to the trauma that was unfolding, the memories that were strangling her, the old friend who most certainly had news that Junie didn’t want to hear.
“Well, when you came to see me, my first thought was, Yay! Junie’s here. But then”—her smile faded—“it all came back to me. Years of self-imposed torment.”
Oh my God. What did I do? “Katie, I’m sorry for anything that I did or said. Please understand. We were kids. I didn’t mean any of it. I’m having all this trouble remembering much from certain parts of my childhood, and if I was ever cruel to you—”
“Junie, no, hon, you weren’t cruel to me.” She swatted the air. “Sheesh, girlfriend, how could you even think that? We were like this.” She crossed her fingers.
We were? “I don’t understand, then. What do you mean by torment?”
“Junes,” she whispered, looking around the bakery. “Don’t you remember?” She opened her eyes wide, nodding her head, as if Junie should remember
.
Junie tried to recall something, anything that might explain what she meant by self-imposed torment. She came up empty. “Boys?”
“Oh, Junes, you really don’t remember, do you?”
Junie shook her head. A shiver ran up her spine. She was afraid to hear what Katie had to say. She didn’t know how much more bad news she could take. What had she done that was so terrible that she’d caused this poor woman pain and torment?
“I’ve kept this inside me for so long, I think I started to believe it myself. But when we talked and you were asking.” She mouthed the word Ellen. “Well, I knew. I just knew it was meant to come out. I mean, I don’t know about you, but I can’t live with this anymore. It’s been too long.”
“Whoa, Katie. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Slow down, please.” Junie’s head was spinning. Ellen? Meant to come out? What the hell was going on? She held on to the edge of the table as she listened to Katie describe the afternoon in a much different way than Junie had remembered.
“When you came back, you were shaking, in tears. Gosh, can’t you remember us hiding in my backyard? In the playhouse? I think we were back there for at least an hour.”
Junie just shook her head. I went back to Katie’s? This isn’t happening. What have I done? She tried to speak, but no words came out. The bakery began to fade away, as if she were listening to Katie talk in slow motion, each word drawn out, magnified.
“I was so shocked to see you come back. I thought for sure you were gone for the afternoon, but you came back.” She nodded. “You were so upset. I didn’t know what had happened. Then you told me, and my goodness. Junie, please tell me you remember this.”
She could see the pain in Katie’s eyes. She’d done something horrid. No wonder she’d repressed the memory. Oh God. All Junie could do was shake her head. Her hands trembled. Everything sounded as if she were underwater. Rushing blood pumped past her ears, blocking out any discernible language. Junie felt a hand on her shoulder. As she tilted her head up, her world went black.
The ceiling needs to be painted. That was the first thought that came to Junie as she lay splayed across the floor of the bakery. Shane hovered over her, his face a mask of worry. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his mouth gaped in fright. His hands clenched her upper arms as if he wanted to shake her awake.
Junie blinked, trying to clear her mind. What happened?
“June, sweetie, you scared me to death,” Shane said.
Panic rushed through Junie. She turned toward the voice. Katie. Their conversation floated back piece by piece. Ellen. It hadn’t been a dream. Damn it. Junie let her eyes drift closed.
“Uh-uh, Junie. Open your eyes. Stay with me.”
Let me be. Junie wanted nothing more than to disappear. Maybe she could keep her eyes closed. Go to sleep and never wake up. She didn’t want to believe that she’d hurt Ellen, although that’s not exactly what Katie had said. Someone hurt Ellen. There had been a rock, a giant rock. Oh God, the rock. She could see it flying through the air. She could smell the creek.
Junie’s eyes sprang open. She reached for Shane’s hand, hyperventilating. He sat her up, holding her against his side. “Get a bag, under the counter, quick.”
Katie rushed behind the counter and returned with a paper bag held out in front of her. “Oh my goodness. Is she okay? I shouldn’t have come,” Katie fretted.
Shane snagged the bag and put it over Junie’s mouth. “Breathe, Junie. Just breathe long, slow breaths.”
Junie did as he instructed until her breathing returned to normal, and she pushed his hand away. She blinked up toward Katie, who looked as though she might faint.
“I’m fine. I’m okay.” Junie flushed. She tried to push herself to her feet.
“Oh no, you don’t. Just sit and relax,” Shane said, gently holding her against him.
“I’m so sorry, Junie. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Katie crouched by Junie. “What can I do?”
Junie wanted to scream, Go away and never speak of what you told me! Instead, she said, “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Junie paced outside of Sarah’s school. She had to pull herself together. What did she see? Did she throw the rock? If not, who did? What happened to Ellen? Damn it. There were so many gaps in her memory that she almost wished she’d left it alone in the first place. The saving grace was that Katie had never said Brian’s name. Did that mean that Junie made up having heard him that day? Did Katie just omit that part, trying to save Junie any further anxiety? She felt as if she were losing her mind.
Kids streamed out the front door, little girls holding hands, waving goodbye to the teachers. Junie looked for Sarah’s red dress. She didn’t see her.
Great, now I’ve lost my daughter?
“Junie, can we see you inside for a moment?”
Junie looked down at Ms. Coler, one of Sarah’s teachers. She wondered if she’d ever get used to her four-foot-ten stature. Her petite frame and the dainty way she carried herself made Junie feel like an awkward giant.
“Sure. Where’s Sarah?” What has she done now?
Inside the classroom, Junie found Sarah leaning over a small round drawing table, so intent on coloring that she gave no indication of hearing Junie when she said hello to her. Sarah was wearing a pair of shorts and a familiar pink T-shirt. The T-shirt Junie had packed in her bag of extra clothes that she kept at the school. Junie’s heart sank.
The table was littered with drawings of gardens. Green bushes and overly bubbled flowers drawn with such force that the crayon looked thick, like wax. More drawings were strewn across the floor.
Junie knelt beside her daughter and picked up one of the drawings. She looked up at Ms. Coler.
“She’s been drawing all morning. We tried to entice her to join the group, play outside, read with us at circle time, but she’d have no part of it. We were going to call, but—”
“That’s okay, really. She’s been enthralled with gardens for a week or so. I’m actually glad you let her draw.” Junie scrutinized the drawing she held, then picked up another and another. Each drawing featured a similar garden and the same dark mark she’d seen in the drawings at Theresa’s office.
Ms. Coler turned her back to Sarah and lowered her voice. “You know, I think we need to talk a bit about Sarah, if you have a moment.”
Great. “Sure. Now?”
“If you don’t mind. We can go into the front office.” She touched Sarah’s shoulder. “Sarah, honey, we’ll be right back.”
Sarah didn’t budge.
Junie had known the discussion was coming. She’d been waiting for it. She sat across the desk from Ms. Coler, whose feigned smile annoyed Junie. Just say it. She waited, her muscles tensing with each passing second. She wanted to take the drawings and head straight over to Theresa’s, but she knew she’d be busy with other clients, and she’d already run up a pretty hefty bill. These were more than just drawings. She could feel it in her bones. But can I trust my feelings?
“Junie, we love Sarah, as you know. And we know she’s going through a hard time right now. We’ve been willing to work with her through wetting her pants even though our policy states that children must be potty trained.” She gave Junie a condescending look.
“Yes, and we really appreciate all that you’ve done. You’ve been wonderful.” Please don’t kick her out.
“We haven’t complained when she requires more…attention than some of our other children.”
Junie dropped her eyes. Here it comes.
“It’s been several months now, and I know you are working on figuring out what’s going on, but we’re…concerned.”
“Yes. So are we. I understand.” Junie felt as though her heart were being ripped through her chest. Please don’t make Sarah get used to another school. That would be the worst thing for her. “We’re working with a new therapist, and we think we’re onto something,” she lied.
Ms. Coler’s eyes lit up. She ran a hand over h
er cropped brown hair, patting it with her palm. “Good. That’s wonderful news.”
Junie hoped that would be enough to buy her a little more time. “We’re hoping for a breakthrough very soon.” She’s not some new drug, you idiot. She’s your daughter. Stand up for her. Junie looked at the drawings in her lap, then said, “Stability is very important for Sarah right now. Sarah loves it here. She’s comfortable here. Please don’t tell me she’s too much for you.” Suddenly she felt the heat of tears tumbling down from the corner of her eyes. “I’m sorry.” She snagged a tissue from a box on the desk.
“Junie, goodness, no. That’s not what I was suggesting.”
Junie sniffled, looked up. “It’s not? But—”
“No. I was just going to suggest that you ask her therapist about Asperger’s syndrome.” She flushed. “I don’t profess to know much about these things, but we had a child two years ago with Asperger’s, and the behaviors are quite similar.”
“Asperger’s.” Junie let out a little laugh under her breath. “I thought…I thought you were kicking her out.” Junie brought her hand to her heart. “Oh, Ms. Coler, thank you.” Asperger’s? Junie knew that most aspects of Sarah’s regression didn’t mimic Asperger’s, but she’d say just about anything to keep Sarah in a safe environment where she felt comfortable. The last thing Sarah needed was a change of schools.
Ms. Coler stood and hugged Junie. “I’m sorry your family is going through this. I know that you know how special Sarah is, and I hope that you know we all just adore her.”
“Thank you,” Junie gushed, and she meant it. She was truly thankful that something was finally working out in their favor.
They returned to an empty classroom. Sarah’s chair had been pulled out from the table, the remaining drawings gathered into a small pile.
“Sarah?” Junie called.
“I’ll check the bathroom.” Ms. Coler hurried down the hall, calling Sarah’s name.
Junie looked in the connecting classroom and passed by the window. She saw Sarah outside, standing beside a large tree. Junie rushed outside. “Sarah. Sarah, are you okay?” Her heart raced. She didn’t know what she would have done if Sarah had disappeared. She pulled her to her chest.
Where Petals Fall Page 19
