Where Petals Fall (15 page)

Junie sat in Theresa’s waiting room, feeling as though her life were over. She’d alienated both her husband and her mother. Sarah sat beside her, thumb in her mouth, blanket piled on her lap. Junie lowered her face into her hands. She’d screwed up her own daughter, probably beyond help, and now she had nowhere to go. Theresa wasn’t even an adult therapist. She’d probably throw Junie out, too.

The office door opened and a mother and son walked out. The mother avoided Junie’s eyes.
No need to be embarrassed. I’m far worse off than you could ever be
, Junie thought.

“Junie, come on in,” Theresa said. If she were annoyed at Junie’s requesting an additional meeting, she gave no indication.

Sarah followed them silently into the room.

“Sarah,” Theresa said. “I have this great new drawing center I’ve set up. Would you like to see it?”

Sarah’s eyebrows lifted.

Theresa led her into an adjoining room, where an easel, colored chalk, and oversized erasers were neatly laid out. “Your mother and I will be right in here talking. If you need us, come into the room, okay?”

Sarah didn’t respond.

Junie’s body was going to explode; she just knew it. Anxious energy would cause her heart to pound right through her chest, and her memories would tumble out of her head, exposing horrible things about her father and her husband. Her daughter would be ruined forever. She could just picture Theresa standing above her, shaking her head and telling her mother, “It was bound to happen. She was too messed up to ever be right.”

Theresa sat before her without saying a word. Junie knew she was waiting for an explanation to her frantic phone call. She’d said it was urgent, but purposely left out the fact that it had nothing to do with Sarah—although, if she really thought about it, it had everything to do with Sarah. All of her actions had an impact on her daughter, and lately, every impact was a negative one.

“Thanks for seeing us…me.”

“You sounded desperate.”

Junie flushed. “I have to admit, this really has more to do with me, but I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

Theresa leaned forward. “I don’t mind helping you, but if you are going to be my client, we really need to get some paperwork out of the way. Your daughter is my client, and I have to be careful not to overstep boundaries on that end.”

Junie was taken aback. Paperwork? Now she was a client? She flinched at what it implied about her—she was broken, maybe as broken as her daughter. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

Theresa handed her the same paperwork she had filled out for Sarah, and Junie rushed through completing the forms, very aware at the cost of each minute. They could afford it; they were lucky. Finances hadn’t been an issue for years. Brian’s practice made more money than they could probably spend each year, and Junie’s income from the bakery was what she referred to as fluff money. She was free to do with it what she wished, but the fact that she needed help dealing with emotional issues scared her. Could Brian use her becoming a
client
against her? She imagined future arguments including phrases such as
unfit mother
and
crazy
.

“Is this confidential? Whatever we talk about?”

“Yes, of course.” Theresa took the completed paperwork and set it aside. “I know you are going through a difficult time, so I can’t say I’m surprised to find you here on my couch.” She smiled.

“I am.” Junie bristled. “I mean, I never expected to feel so out of control. I’ve been thrown out by my husband and my mother.” Tears pushed at Junie’s eyes.
Not now, please
. She opened her mouth to speak and choked on sobs.

Theresa handed her a box of tissues. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

“I’m sorry,” Junie said, wiping her eyes and feeling foolish. “What is wrong with me? I don’t even know where to start.”

“Does this have something to do with the memories that you’ve been experiencing?”

“I found something, and I’m not sure what to do about it, and Brian’s lying to me.” She looked out the window, then turned back. “About his father, of all things. None of it makes any sense, and I feel—overwhelmed.”

“What did you find?”

“It was in my father’s shed. I found a sweater. Ellen’s sweater.”

“And that’s significant because?” Theresa picked up her pen, wrote something on a pad of paper.

“Because we weren’t allowed in his shed, and I remember—or at least I think I remember—seeing Ellen walk in there one night.”

“And Brian’s lie?”

“That makes no sense at all. He lied about meeting with his father at his office. I saw them. I was right there in the parking lot, and after his father left, I called him, and he lied about the meeting.” Junie bit her lower lip, then added, “And he lied about going to see him when he left after the funeral. It’s like one lie after another.”

“Why would he lie about that? What is their relationship?”

“They’re distant. But why lie?” Junie sat back, crossed her arms protectively. A shield against the truth?

“Okay, so let’s take this apart a bit. What would it mean if Ellen had been in your father’s shed?”

Junie thought about the question. “That’s just it. I don’t know. That he was a pervert that liked little girls?”

“Do you have any reason to believe your father might have been a pedophile?” Theresa asked.

Junie flushed, waved her hands in front of her face. “No, that doesn’t feel right,” she said emphatically. “In fact, just the opposite. He was not overtly emotional. He was clinical. I think that’s what’s bothering me so much. I can’t put the two pieces together. He was hiding something, obviously, but what?”

“I don’t have that answer. So, what other plausible explanations can you come up with?”

Junie held her hands up in the air. “It was the middle of the night, I think, so he wouldn’t be tickling her or playing a game. I just can’t figure out exactly what else he could have been doing.”

“Okay, let’s talk about Brian for a minute. Why would he lie to you about his father?”

“Who knows?”

“Well, obviously he does. Did you ever talk to him about how he treated you after Ellen died?”

“I tried, but I didn’t get very far.”

Theresa nodded, then rubbed her chin. “Junie,” she said thoughtfully. “How do you feel about hypnosis?”

Junie crinkled her nose.

“Yeah, I know, it sounds hokey, but for some repressed memories, it works to uncover the reasons why you have repressed them. It may help you to understand what surrounds the memories of your father and Ellen, and who knows? It could help you to understand what you’ve forgotten about Brian and his father, too.”

Sarah walked into the room, dragging her blanket.

Saved
. “Are you done drawing, honey?”

Sarah nodded.

“Let’s go take a look.” Theresa and Junie walked into the other room. Sarah stayed behind.

“This is beautiful,” Theresa said. “Is this a garden?”

Junie stared at the picture. It looked remarkably like Peter’s garden, but it could have just as easily been any garden. “Papa Peter’s garden?” Junie asked.

Sarah was silent.

“Her grandfather has a garden in his backyard. Sarah likes to play back there, but this trip, it was a mess, covered with weeds.” Junie wanted to run away, hide from the idea of hypnosis. If Theresa was bringing up hypnosis, that meant she thought Junie was crazy—she
needed
hypnosis. She turned to Sarah and used her for an out. “Maybe we’d better go home.”
Oh God, where can we go?
She caught Theresa’s eye and whispered, “I didn’t get to tell you about what happened with Brian and my mother. Brian told me to stay with my mom, but she’s pretty mad at me and basically told me to go home.” She turned her back to Sarah. “I don’t know where to go.”

“Do you feel safe around Brian?”

“Of course,” Junie said.

“He’s not so upset that it might put you and Sarah in danger in any way?”

“You’ve met him. Of course not.”

“I have to ask.” Theresa flashed her most professional therapist gaze. “I would go home, then. A home belongs to the family, not just one family member, and Sarah needs stability.”

Junie nodded. She could do this. “So, should I try to talk to Brian about his dad?”

“What do you think?” Theresa asked.

Theresa’s question annoyed Junie.
Why would I be here if I had all the answers?
She thought about the question. Should she talk to him? What would she gain by doing so? It turned out she did have all the answers after all; she just didn’t realize it. With a sigh, she said, “No. It would only cause conflict.”

“Think about what I suggested. Let me know. I think it could help.”

Junie heard the front door open at six p.m., much earlier than usual for Brian to come home. She moved about the kitchen, focusing on stirring the spaghetti rather than the mounting fear that Brian might not want her there. Her chest tightened as his footsteps neared.

“Hey!” His voice carried a happy cadence, and Junie released the breath she’d been holding. He wrapped his arms around Junie’s waste and kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He kissed Sarah’s head. “You, too, sweetie. I missed my girls.”

“You’re not mad?” Junie asked.

“Mad? No. But I don’t want to talk about any of that. Can we just have a nice evening as a family?”

A nice family evening
. Every inch of Junie ached for just that. She’d take it! She had begun doubting her own perception. It was certainly plausible that Brian and Peter were working on a case together, and it was true that he hadn’t been in the habit of telling Junie who he worked with.

Dinner was uneventful, and Junie enjoyed the peacefulness, the normalcy that had been lost over recent weeks. Brian was in good spirits and seemed sincerely glad that Junie and Sarah were home. When Sarah wet her pants after dinner, he didn’t get upset and snap at Junie for herding her upstairs and into the bathtub, cooing, “Accidents happen.”

Brian read to Sarah at bedtime and sat beside her while she drifted off to sleep.

“Is she down?” Junie asked when he came downstairs.

“Yeah, sound asleep.”

The news came on, and Junie turned down the volume. She sat next to Brian, feeling his warmth, comforted by his arm around her shoulder. She’d missed that closeness, and yet she was afraid to mention it. She felt a bit like she was walking on eggshells—not because of anything Brian did or said, but because of her nagging desire to talk about the possibility of hypnosis. She knew Brian would be against it. The last therapist had suggested it for Sarah, and they both had nixed the idea without giving it much thought at all. So why was she considering it for herself?

The next morning, Brian left early for work, passing by Sarah’s bedroom as Junie silently changed her soiled sheets. He didn’t smirk or make a nasty comment, but the fact that he didn’t even say goodbye bothered Junie. After the nice night they’d shared—they’d made love after Sarah had gone to bed, and sure, it had been rushed and maybe even a little rougher than usual, but she’d hoped it might be the spark of a softening between them. It had been weeks since they’d been intimate, and she was beginning to wonder if they’d ever find a path back to their sensuality. She’d hoped he might wake up in the same loving mood. Instead, he’d been unreadable, and in some ways, that was more difficult than him being angry.

Junie took Sarah to preschool, where Sarah stood silently to the side as kids played in small groups. Her teacher assured her she would try to get her involved in the day’s activities, and Junie left, heading toward Bliss.

“She’s back!” Shane announced when she walked in the front door.

Junie said hello to Mrs. Matz and her daughter, Caroline, Bliss Friday-morning regulars.

“For a few hours, anyway,” she said to Shane. Junie went into the kitchen and looked over their order sheet. Shane had, as always, kept everything perfectly organized. She owed more than the bakery’s success to her friend; she owed a slice of her sanity as well.

Once the customers cleared out, she sidled up to Shane and asked, “What do you think about hypnosis?”

“The kind that makes you squawk like a chicken?”

“No, the kind that helps you remember things you might have repressed.” She slid a tray of cookies out of the oven.

“Ah, is that where we’re headed?”

“I don’t know. What do you think? I mean, I think it makes sense. Now that I’m having these flashes of memory, I can’t really ignore them.”

“No, I guess you can’t.” He slapped her fingers as she reached for a cookie. “Uh-uh. Those are getting frosting.”

“Mm, even better.” She waited for Shane to say more, and when he didn’t, she asked, “Will you go with me?”

He lifted his eyebrows.

“For moral support. Please? I can’t do this on my own.”

He set the cookies on the cooling rack. “Isn’t that what girlfriends are for?”

They’d gone through this before. Shane knew she had no girlfriends to speak of or to lean on. It was a running joke—a joke that recently turned to something that pained Junie more than she’d care to admit. “Sure, if I had any.” Just another item for Junie’s Things I Suck At list: maintaining female friendships.

“Your mom?”

Junie saw the hope in his eyes, and knew he would rather she took her mother. She also knew that she could count on him to go with her. “She’s kind of pissed at me.”

He shrugged. “Sure, if I can get a day off out of it.”

Junie threw her arms around his neck. They’d call in the kitchen helpers for a day, even if they weren’t great with the customers. She needed Shane, and even if they had to close the bakery for a day, they’d make it work. “I knew I could count on you!” She slipped an apron over her head and said, “Can we keep this between us? I don’t know what Brian would think about it.”