Where Petals Fall Read Online Free PDF Page A

sighed. “Do you remember when we did it? I thought it was so stupid, so morbid. Who plans their own funerals? But Daddy insisted. He said he didn’t want to make you deal with anything more than losing one of us.”
    Junie pressed her lips into a tight line in an effort to hold back her tears. “I remember.” Junie had argued with him at the time, worried that planning a funeral would somehow make their deaths come sooner. Her stomach twisted in knots. She wanted to turn around and find her father behind her, his hand on her shoulder. She wanted to hear his quiet, even voice say, Good morning, pumpkin .
    “The funeral will be tomorrow at nine,” Ruth said. “Selma and Mary Margaret took care of whatever your father hadn’t.”
    “Thank goodness for the Getty Girls.” Junie looked down at the table, then fidgeted with her hands in her lap. Not for the first time, Junie felt a pang of jealousy, having spent her high school and college years longing for such close friendships. She’d tried to connect with other women, tried to fill the gap that Ellen had left behind. As young girls, their connections were about silly things like agreeing on whose house they’d sleep at on Friday night and if brownies were better than cupcakes. Ellen liked brownies. Junie liked cupcakes. Frosting mattered. Junie longed for an adult confidante that didn’t come with a familial tie, someone who would console when need be, but just as readily give her a good what for if she deserved it. She could not burden her mother with her marital troubles, but she could burden a girlfriend. Wasn’t that what they were for? Just when Junie had given up on finding a replacement for Ellen, Brian came into her life. Brian’s absence felt as blatant as a missing thumb. Junie transferred her anger to her father’s upcoming funeral. “I hate the Jewish rules of death.”
    “Junie,” her mother chided her.
    “It just seems so rushed. No wonder Daddy took care of it all.” She looked away, then laid her hand atop her mother’s. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I guess we should leave around eight tomorrow morning to get to the funeral home. Brian should be here later tonight.” She turned away as a tear slipped down her cheek.
    Ruth’s chin quivered. She nodded. “It’s okay to cry, Junie.”
    Junie was seven years old again, sitting under the oak tree in the backyard. Her mother came and sat beside her, taking her hand just as she did now and telling her it was okay to cry. Ellen had been missing for two days, and Junie had been waiting for her to reappear. She was sure she would. The adults were wrong; she just knew it. Ellen hadn’t been kidnapped by a stranger. During those first two days, Junie’s seven-year-old mind believed that Ellen was just hiding somewhere, playing a stupid game. She believed what the Getty Girls had said, that God would bring her back.
    “Daddy loved you.” Her mother’s voice brought her mind back to the present.
    Junie nodded. “He loved you, too.”  Their eyes met, bonded by a sadness that was bigger than them.
    “Tell me something happy,” Ruth said, wiping her eyes.
    “Happy?” What could possibly be happy? Junie drew her eyebrows together, desperately running through her thoughts, grasping for something happy. She came up empty, offering a shrug instead.
    “How’s Sarah’s therapy going? Do you like the new therapist?” Ruth ran her finger along the rim of her cup.
    “Yeah.” Junie’s voice went soft. “She’s…different. She’s not clinical, like the last one. I like her.” Junie had been in such a rush the last few weeks that until then, she hadn’t taken the time to think about Theresa, Sarah’s therapist. Yes, she liked her very much. Theresa was close to Junie’s age and had an easy style and openness about her that drew Junie in. She hadn’t pressed Junie to take care of the initial questionnaire that the previous therapist seemed to believe held all of the answers, and