through the window as Junie poured a thin layer of cake batter into the pan, then added a sprinkling of nuts, burying them under another thick layer of batter. She repeated the process with each of the three pans.
An hour and a half later, Junie used a leveling tool to remove the uneven pieces of the cake and layered a thick swathe of caramel across the top of two layers, then assembled the cake, sealing it with a thin layer of rum ganache. By the time she went upstairs, she’d sealed her burdensome thoughts deep inside the cake.
Chapter Nine
Junie changed Sarah’s sheets without any emotion whatsoever. She was focused on the event that lay ahead: her father’s funeral. How could he be gone? This was it. They were going to bury her father, the man who taught her to ride a bike and secretly brought her hot chocolate. The man who, when Junie spoke of being afraid of sharks at the seashore, rattled off statistics and convinced Junie that she was more likely to get a bee sting than be bitten by a shark, and she still played in the grass, didn’t she?
Brian walked by the bedroom, glancing at Junie with a look that translated into, Again?
Junie turned her back, unable to deal with his chastising of her mothering skills—not today.
Ruth moved through the house in silent procession. Junie didn’t know what to say to ease the tension, so she said nothing. She bathed and fed Sarah and put on the black dress that she knew she would discard after the funeral. She couldn’t bear the thought of walking into her closet and seeing the dress, a daily reminder of her father’s passing.
When they finally made their way to the car, Sarah insisted on hanging on to her blanket, her thumb planted firmly in her mouth.
Brian reached for the blanket.
“Don’t,” Junie said from the passenger seat.
“Junie, she’s four years old. Come on. She doesn’t need it in public.”
“Just leave it. It’s a hard enough day. Mom doesn’t need there to be a tantrum, too.”
Brian turned away, grinding his teeth.
The cemetery was only a few miles from the house, but it seemed like a different world altogether. Ten acres of flat, even grass, row after row of headstones, reminders of how often people leave our world. Junie’s heart sank, realizing that nothing in life could prepare her for losing her father, just as she hadn’t been prepared to lose her best friend.
The parking lot was full of familiar cars. Selma and Phil’s blue Toyota Corolla was parked next to Mary Margaret’s Subaru Forester in the closest spots. They would have been the first people to arrive.
Junie stepped from the car, staring at the blue canopy with rows of chairs beneath it, the ominous hole in the earth below her father’s casket. She eyed the mound of dirt on the ground beside the hole. It seemed unfair, cruel, like a rush to the finish line. Hurry up, because we have to get on with our lives. Junie’s stomach turned. Couldn’t they bring in the dirt later, or cover it? She reached behind her for Sarah’s hand.
Selma, Phil, and Mary Margaret were seated in the second row of chairs. They stood as Ruth and Sarah exited the car. Brian rushed to take Sarah’s hand.
“I’ve got her.” Brian reached for Sarah again.
Sarah pulled back, wrapping her tiny fingers around her mother’s skirt and casting her eyes downward.
Brian’s mouth formed a tight line. He bent down, looking Sarah in the eyes. “Come on, honey. Let’s give Mommy a break. Hold Daddy’s hand.”
Sarah hid behind her blanket.
“It’s okay,” Junie said, reaching for Sarah’s hand. She was glad Brian was stepping up to the plate, trying to do the right thing by giving her the chance to support her mother instead of taking care of Sarah. It pained her, knowing how much Sarah’s rejection hurt Brian. Why Sarah preferred her over anyone else, she had no idea. Brian was a good father. He adored Sarah. She knew he did, even if that adoration was clouded by the effects
An hour and a half later, Junie used a leveling tool to remove the uneven pieces of the cake and layered a thick swathe of caramel across the top of two layers, then assembled the cake, sealing it with a thin layer of rum ganache. By the time she went upstairs, she’d sealed her burdensome thoughts deep inside the cake.
Chapter Nine
Junie changed Sarah’s sheets without any emotion whatsoever. She was focused on the event that lay ahead: her father’s funeral. How could he be gone? This was it. They were going to bury her father, the man who taught her to ride a bike and secretly brought her hot chocolate. The man who, when Junie spoke of being afraid of sharks at the seashore, rattled off statistics and convinced Junie that she was more likely to get a bee sting than be bitten by a shark, and she still played in the grass, didn’t she?
Brian walked by the bedroom, glancing at Junie with a look that translated into, Again?
Junie turned her back, unable to deal with his chastising of her mothering skills—not today.
Ruth moved through the house in silent procession. Junie didn’t know what to say to ease the tension, so she said nothing. She bathed and fed Sarah and put on the black dress that she knew she would discard after the funeral. She couldn’t bear the thought of walking into her closet and seeing the dress, a daily reminder of her father’s passing.
When they finally made their way to the car, Sarah insisted on hanging on to her blanket, her thumb planted firmly in her mouth.
Brian reached for the blanket.
“Don’t,” Junie said from the passenger seat.
“Junie, she’s four years old. Come on. She doesn’t need it in public.”
“Just leave it. It’s a hard enough day. Mom doesn’t need there to be a tantrum, too.”
Brian turned away, grinding his teeth.
The cemetery was only a few miles from the house, but it seemed like a different world altogether. Ten acres of flat, even grass, row after row of headstones, reminders of how often people leave our world. Junie’s heart sank, realizing that nothing in life could prepare her for losing her father, just as she hadn’t been prepared to lose her best friend.
The parking lot was full of familiar cars. Selma and Phil’s blue Toyota Corolla was parked next to Mary Margaret’s Subaru Forester in the closest spots. They would have been the first people to arrive.
Junie stepped from the car, staring at the blue canopy with rows of chairs beneath it, the ominous hole in the earth below her father’s casket. She eyed the mound of dirt on the ground beside the hole. It seemed unfair, cruel, like a rush to the finish line. Hurry up, because we have to get on with our lives. Junie’s stomach turned. Couldn’t they bring in the dirt later, or cover it? She reached behind her for Sarah’s hand.
Selma, Phil, and Mary Margaret were seated in the second row of chairs. They stood as Ruth and Sarah exited the car. Brian rushed to take Sarah’s hand.
“I’ve got her.” Brian reached for Sarah again.
Sarah pulled back, wrapping her tiny fingers around her mother’s skirt and casting her eyes downward.
Brian’s mouth formed a tight line. He bent down, looking Sarah in the eyes. “Come on, honey. Let’s give Mommy a break. Hold Daddy’s hand.”
Sarah hid behind her blanket.
“It’s okay,” Junie said, reaching for Sarah’s hand. She was glad Brian was stepping up to the plate, trying to do the right thing by giving her the chance to support her mother instead of taking care of Sarah. It pained her, knowing how much Sarah’s rejection hurt Brian. Why Sarah preferred her over anyone else, she had no idea. Brian was a good father. He adored Sarah. She knew he did, even if that adoration was clouded by the effects
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