Where Petals Fall (5 page)

They stood in the bathroom, just two feet from each other, and yet Junie felt miles apart from Brian. The bathroom seemed to be the place they spent most of their time together lately, stolen moments to catch up on their daily plans. Who knew a marriage could be maintained in ten-minute intervals of personal hygiene and sharing of one’s day?
Maintained
? Junie wondered. She wasn’t sure she was capable of maintaining anything at the moment. Junie watched Brian digest what she’d told him. The image of Ellen had been like a noose, tightening as the day progressed. She needed to tell someone about seeing her, and she couldn’t burden her mother with the weight of it.  She’d been short-tempered with Sarah, and she wasn’t anywhere near the strong shoulder her mother needed. Junie hoped that by talking about what she’d seen, she could dismiss it and deal with her father’s death, which she had been pushing aside—another too painful reality boring into her. Brian had barely made it through the door and upstairs at ten after midnight before Junie had unloaded on him.

Brian’s jaw hung open, fatigue drawing his eyelids down. “Really, Junie? After I worked all day and drove two hours in bumper-to-bumper traffic, you bring up Ellen?” He looked away, disgusted. “You know it’s hard for me to be here. Are you
trying
to make it worse?”

“No, but it was really scary.” Junie put the toothpaste cap back on the tube. “Who am I supposed to tell? Mom?”

Brian didn’t answer.

“Why would I suddenly see Ellen? I can’t ever remember seeing Ellen that scared over anything.” She pulled her shoulder-length blond hair back into a ponytail, secured it with an elastic band, and brushed her teeth.

“Things don’t just appear out of nowhere. Were you dreaming?”

“No. I was fully awake.”

“So you were upset?”

“No. Maybe,” Junie answered.

“Overtired?” Brian pushed.

“Maybe.” Junie shrugged, wishing he’d stop throwing questions at her.

“Junie, there’re a million reasons for this. There’s no evidence—”

“Evidence? Stop cross-examining me. I need to have a conversation with you, not be interrogated by you.” There had been a time when Brian’s clear-cut route to problem solving had been reassuring; now it had become a defense mechanism for him and hurtful for her.

Brian loosened his tie and sat on the edge of the bathtub. He pulled off his black leather loafers. “Being back here, it brings it all up again.” He stood up and removed his trousers and shirt. “The whole thing just has you tied in knots.”

“But that’s just it. I’ve been back here a million times. Never once in all these years have I ever had something like that happen.” She washed out her toothbrush, tied her robe, and tried to ignore her husband’s muscular arms and chest. She dropped her eyes, settling on his carefully placed shoes on the floor. She let out a sigh. Would she ever feel at par with her gorgeous husband? She doubted it. If she didn’t now, she never would.

Brian wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. Her insecurity instantly diminished. “With all that’s going on, it’s a wonder you have any sanity left. I mean, she was my sister, and being here…Well, you know how I feel about being back here.” He pulled her close, then disengaged and walked into the bedroom.

Junie followed. She turned off the bedroom light and climbed into bed next to him, feeling the warmth of his leg against hers. Her instinct was to pull away from him, annoyed by their exchange, his dismissal of her, but she clung to the hope that they would one day emerge victorious from this miserable place in their relationship. “I know. I didn’t mean to minimize what you must be going through.” She laid her head on his shoulder.

Brian turned away. “I’m not going through anything. Just tired, that’s all. This case is busting my balls.”

Junie rolled her eyes. The teenage lacrosse lingo had never left him. He could dress up in a suit, play Mr. Attorney with the best of them, but at the end of the day, he was still just a guy. “Sarah will be glad to see you in the morning.”

Brian didn’t answer.

“She missed you today.”

“Really? Did she say that?” he asked in a terse tone.

Junie closed her eyes against her mounting frustration. Sarah’s inability to verbalize her feelings had become a barrier between them. She missed the days when they each said exactly what they felt with no thought or worry of how it might be interpreted. How far down would their marriage spiral with Sarah’s regression? “No, but I know.”

“Mm-hm. Did you fill out that questionnaire yet?” he asked.

The damned questionnaire. It had been only a few weeks since the doctors had said they thought Sarah had deep-rooted emotional issues. Junie was sure there was a medical explanation and that Sarah’s issues were more than simply emotional—but she was scared shitless to fill out the forms, just in case. The psychiatrist had given Junie a seven-page questionnaire, which she’d shoved into her glove compartment and ignored ever since. If the psychiatrist wasn’t putting much stock into it, why was Brian? Junie knew why. He was a lawyer, and lawyers liked strong cases. Documents led to cases. Sarah was
not
a case.

Brian turned to face her. “Junie, fill out the damned thing. Let’s figure this shit out.”

“This shit is your daughter, and she’s not emotionally disturbed. She has a great life. Something has changed, and it’s real, Brian.” Same conversation, different night. Junie would never get to sleep now. Why didn’t Brian just support her? Why couldn’t they find another group of doctors instead of just another therapist?

“She’s got issues,” Brian said, pointing to his head.

Junie got out of bed, grabbed her robe, and walked out of the bedroom.

It was one o’clock in the morning, and the house was silent. Junie padded down the stairs and into the kitchen. She flicked on the light, squinting as her eyes adjusted. The roses were gone.  Junie looked around the kitchen and living room, then silently thanked her mother for moving them. Junie placed the teakettle on the stove and lit the flame.  She took the last tea bag from the box above the sink and pressed the metal lever on the trash can to throw away the empty container. The roses lay in the trash like forgotten children, beautiful and wrong among the coffee grinds and apple peels. Junie let the lid slam closed and lifted her gaze to the window. Peter’s back porch light was on, illuminating his backyard beyond the buffer of trees. Junie thought of Ellen and of the many nights playing flashlight tag and sitting on her back porch talking until one of their moms would call them inside. She wondered what her life might be like if Ellen hadn’t gone missing. Would they have remained friends all those years, or would they have grown apart, like Junie and the few other friends from her youth? She couldn’t name one childhood friend that she was still in contact with. Was that normal? Would she and Brian have ever gotten together if Ellen hadn’t disappeared? Might there have been stolen glances of flirtation between Brian, the coveted older brother, and Junie, the little sister’s best friend, as they’d gotten older? A secret midnight tryst with Brian when Junie was home on a college break, she and Ellen catching up over a few too many drinks—Ellen passed out and Brian suddenly appearing in the doorway?

“Yeah, right,” Junie said to herself.

When they were younger, Brian had treated Junie like she was nothing more than another little girl running around the house, getting in his way. He’d joked with her and he was cordial, but he also let her know when she annoyed him in a slightly less patient way than he had with Ellen.

Ellen had adored her brother. Junie remembered the way pride illuminated Ellen’s dark eyes when Brian called her “squirt.” Junie had almost been jealous, back then, wishing she had an older brother to give her a sacred nickname, like Brian had for Ellen, but then again, she’d had a warm and attentive father, something Ellen never had—though Brian sure did.

The teakettle whistled, and Junie quickly turned off the stove and poured herself a cup of tea. Her mother appeared in the doorway. Ruth’s hair was disheveled. The faded blue bathrobe that Junie had given her mother years earlier was worn so thin it was see-through in spots. The robe hung open, revealing her mother’s flowered nightgown. Ruth’s shoulders drooped; her cheeks hung heavily.

“Pour me a cup?” she asked.

“Mom? What are you doing up?”

Ruth looked at her sideways.

“Sorry. I’m sure it’s hard to sleep.”
I’m so stupid.

“I’m not used to him not being there. I roll over and the bed seems too big; the room’s too quiet.” She sat down across from Junie, her hands around the teacup. “I miss the sound of his breathing at night, the way the mattress sank, just a little, next to me.” She sipped her tea. “He was always so hot at night, like his body radiated heat. I just miss him.”

“I know.” Junie didn’t know what else to say. Her heart ached for her mother. It ached for herself. “Daddy used to bring me hot chocolate at night when I couldn’t sleep.” She hadn’t thought of that in years, their late-night secret.

“He did?” Ruth asked.

Junie nodded. “He’d come into my bedroom and find me sitting up in bed. Just sitting there.” Junie looked away; the edges of her lips rose to a smile. “Come to think of it, I have no idea why I would be awake, or what I was thinking or doing. I wonder if”—she sipped her tea—“after the first few times, I would stay awake waiting for him to come in. You know, like Pavlov’s dogs?”

Ruth laughed. “Now you sound like your father.”

Ralph Nailon had been a science teacher. Everything in his life was likened to research or science in one way or another. Junie reached across the table and held her mother’s hand. “I miss him, too, Mom.” Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of her father. He wasn’t a verbose man, and he didn’t have a commanding presence, like Brian’s father did. No, Ralph was more demure; some might even say he was meek, but to Junie, he was smart, careful, and loving in his own quiet way. Junie wiped a tear from her cheek. She closed her eyes, trying to remain strong. The last thing her mother needed was to see her falling apart. Junie glanced outside at the lighted porch on the hill. The images of Ellen screaming flashed before her. Junie dropped her mother’s hand.

Ruth lifted her eyes.

“Mom, what do you think happens after we die?”  Junie asked.

“I never believed in that life-after-death stuff, but after Daddy…when he—” Ruth looked away and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “I thought, or maybe I just hoped, that I’d feel him right here with me.” She looked at the empty chair beside her. “Or, you know, know he was there, but now…” She shook her head, pulling her hand back from Junie’s.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Ruth tucked her cropped hair behind her ear, a motion Junie had seen hundreds of times before. When she was young, Junie had tried to mimic that movement, much like Sarah apes her movements—but as she matured, she found that it was not hers to take. “It’s okay. It’s life, Junie. I still have hope. I may feel him around at some point.”

Junie’s heartbeat picked up. She needed to hear her mother’s take on what she’d seen. As selfish as it was, Junie needed her wisdom. “Something happened today, and I really need to talk to someone about it, but I don’t want to upset you.” Junie watched her mother draw in a breath and pull her shoulders back.

“I’m okay, honey. What is it?”

She’d seen Ruth draw strength for her so many times that Junie had come to expect it even during such a traumatic time. She knew she was being selfish, burdening her mother with her worry, but who else could she ask? Brian had already dismissed her, and she was asking enough of Shane by leaving him with full responsibility for the bakery. As Junie opened her mouth to speak, she secretly hoped that one day she could show that strength for her own daughter, and somehow, she felt she’d already fallen short of that wish.

“Do you know anything about Ellen’s disappearance? I mean, anything that maybe I wouldn’t have heard about as a kid?” Junie watched her mother’s face soften, the worry in her eyes replaced with empathy.

“Oh, honey. Why didn’t I see that Daddy’s death would unearth this for you? Of course this would bring Ellen’s disappearance rushing back. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t think it’s that. It’s just…I saw her today. I mean, I didn’t see her, see her. I saw an image of her, outside, when I was playing with Sarah.”

“A memory,” Ruth said, plain and simple, as if it explained everything. Her typical pragmatic response. 

“That’s the thing. I can’t ever remember seeing Ellen so frightened. She was terrified, screaming.”

“Death does all sorts of things to the living,” Ruth said.

Junie’s head snapped up. “Death? We don’t know if Ellen is dead. You can’t know that.” The desperation in Junie’s voice was palpable. “Don’t…don’t assume that.”

“Oh, Junie, I didn’t mean Ellen. I meant your father’s death.”

“But what if it was something more? What if they missed something all those years ago? What if it’s a sign of some sort?”

“Oh, Junie, I really don’t think—”

“I know. I know. Neither do I, really, but all I know is that she disappeared. I can’t remember the last time we even talked about her. It’s almost as if she had never existed at all.”

“We talked about her at your wedding. Remember?”

Junie nodded, remembering the passing comment among the excitement.
I wish Ellen could have been here
. She’d been too wrapped up in her own reverie to give Ellen’s memory the careful thought it deserved.

“You had such a difficult time with her disappearance. You were so young, just seven, remember. You refused to believe she wasn’t coming back and, well, after a while, I guess you realized that maybe she wasn’t, and eventually you just went on. We all did. It was a very difficult time for everyone. You might not remember, but Ellen’s disappearance changed everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when a child disappears like that, everyone comes under scrutiny. People say things they don’t mean, things they’d never say under different circumstances. Suffice it to say, it’s not a time anyone wants to rehash.” Ruth got up and put her teacup in the sink.

Junie followed. “Who came under scrutiny?”

Ruth turned to her, letting out a loud sigh. “Junie, I love you, but I’m exhausted. I have to go to bed.”

Guilt chased frustration around Junie’s body, tightening like a robe around her middle. Another of her mother’s pragmatic traits—dismissing her daughter in a gentle, loving way, putting an end to an uncomfortable discussion, and leaving Junie wanting more.