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eyes reddened with sad spidery veins. Mary Margaret sat beside them, in the row behind her mother, bent over, her shoulders quaking. Junie glanced over the attendees. Mrs. Walters, the librarian, dressed in a black polyester pantsuit, stood beside Dr. Rains, a therapist who lived in the neighborhood. Junie was ashamed to remember the childhood taunt, Dr. Crazy Brains . Many of the same faces that had been at Ellen’s service were there, faces that now boasted crow’s-feet instead of the smooth skin of youth.
    Junie looked at Sarah kicking her feet, which hung from the chair. Her dark tights made her thin legs look even tinier. Junie wiped fresh tears from her eyes. She hated that Sarah would grow up without her grandfather. Would she even remember him? Would she remember his mini science lessons about how butterflies couldn’t fly if their body temperature was less than eighty-six degrees, or how hummingbirds eat every ten minutes? Junie barely remembered Ellen, and she was seven when Ellen had disappeared. Seven . Junie ached for all that Ellen missed out on in life and wondered what really happened to her. Adults died. That was accepted as part of life. But a child missing, assumed dead? She swallowed past the sadness that swelled within her. Ellen’s disappearance was unfair. Her father’s death was unfair, but at least he’d lived a full life.
    Junie pictured her father in the casket, his arms crossed, his eyes closed. Ellen’s casket had been empty. The funeral had been a memorial service, in honor of Ellen. Closure for her parents , her mother had said. Junie remembered the fear of seeing that casket lowered into the ground. Junie squeezed her mother’s hand so tight that Ruth let out a gasp. Flashes of Ellen’s funeral came rushing back to her, appearing in her mind like a bad rerun. Ellen’s mother, kneeling by the casket, her arms draped over the small wooden box, sobs racking her body. Peter stood behind her, arms hanging loosely by his side, a lost look in his tear-filled eyes, and Brian, Junie’s Brian, sitting, as Sarah sat now, staring straight ahead, his teeth clenched.
    She looked at her husband, his eyes trained on the casket, his jaw set tight. What was he thinking? Was he thinking about all of the things he loved about her father, or was he thinking, as Junie was, about Ellen? A flush rushed up Junie’s cheeks, and more memories flooded in.  Fourteen-year-old Brian, his hair perfectly combed, wearing a suit so new it had yet to wrinkle. She remembered the pain in her stomach as he pushed himself up from the chair, a disgusted look on his face. Junie saw the look he gave his father, a look of anger and disbelief. He stormed away from the grave site, stomping across the surrounding graves without care, as only a distraught child might do. She’d wondered if he was angry they’d given up on finding Ellen. She had been furious, wanting to plead with Mr. and Mrs. Olson not to give up. She could only imagine how angry Brian had been. Oh, Brian . Her heart ached for him. She hoped her father’s funeral wasn’t causing Brian to relive the same sad memories of the days that changed his family forever.

Chapter Ten
    The last of the visitors lingered, taking their time saying goodbye. The freezer was stocked with homemade casseroles and lasagna from well-meaning neighbors; the counter was littered with food that would never be eaten. Junie wiped her hand on a dish towel and went into the den, looking for Sarah. She hadn’t seen her since they’d arrived back at the house, when she’d headed for the television. She found Brian hovering over her, his back to Junie, blocking Sarah’s face and body from her view. Sarah began to kick her feet; a stifled noise rose from where she lay. Junie’s hands grew cold. A shiver ran up her spine, bringing with it a memory she’d long ago forgotten. It was Ellen’s feet before her now, Junie’s father leaning over her. Junie stood frozen, consumed by the