The Heavenstone Secrets

by V. C. Andrews

  “He said he wouldn’t be there long.”

  She stared at me.

  “He did!”

  “He’s only trying to avoid telling us how serious things are.”

  “What do you mean? How serious are they?”

  “Serious. The doctor put her in the hospital, didn’t he? Now, go back to your room and let me finish up. I’d like to get to my homework, too.”

  She stepped back and closed the door. The trembling I had felt in my fingers now traveled down my spine. For a moment, I thought I couldn’t breathe. I returned to my room, but I just sat on my bed thinking. How come I hadn’t realized Daddy was keeping things from us? How serious was it? Could I call the hospital? Again, I wondered why Cassie could see and understand so much more than I could in our father’s face. He was my father, too, wasn’t he?

  I hugged myself and rocked on the bed. Feeling so helpless and alone, I started to cry softly, keeping my eye on my door. If Cassie caught me, she would get hysterical. Catching my breath, I went to my window that looked out on the driveway and watched and hoped for the sight of Daddy’s car. It was quiet. Every time I saw a pair of headlights on the road, I held my breath, but none turned into our gateway.

  I spun around when I heard my door open.

  “What are you doing?” Cassie asked.

  “I was just … hoping to see Daddy’s car.”

  “Christmas trees, Semantha. I was just hoping to see Daddy’s car,” she mimicked. “I swear, you’re going backward in age. If he knew you were standing there like that, waiting all night, how do you think he would feel? Will you just get yourself to bed? I promise, if he comes home or calls soon, I’ll come tell you.”

  “It’s not that late, Cassie.”

  “Are we going to stand here and argue about something so stupid? I have enough on my mind. Go to bed, Semantha. Or do you want me to come in here and read you a story?”

  “Stop it.”

  “Because I will, you know.”

  “Stop it, Cassie.”

  “Then go to bed,” she said. She backed out and closed my door.

  She did succeed in making me feel immature, so I prepared for bed. Before I got into bed, I looked out the window again. Daddy had been gone for a little more than four hours now. Something wasn’t right. Or maybe he just hated to leave Mother there by herself and was staying as long as he could. I told myself I would just doze and keep one ear alert for the sounds of his arrival.

  But sleep overtook me, crawling in, over, and around me. It had a good grip on me, too. The emotional roller coaster I had ridden all day was far more exhausting than I had imagined. My fatigue sank me deeper and deeper into the darkness, into a place where even dreams didn’t dwell.

  When I heard the scream and the sound of crying, I thought some nightmare had worked its way through a tunnel to reach the place in which I slumbered. A second scream woke me, however. It stunned me, too, and for a long moment, I didn’t move. I listened. I heard the sobbing clearly now and reached over to turn on the lamp on my beside table. I sat up and listened again. The sobbing was softer, and there were some muffled voices. I threw off my blanket, slipped into my robe and slippers, and went to the door.

  The hallway lights were bright.

  At the top of the stairway, Cassie sat with her hands over her face.

  I shouted her name.

  She turned and looked at me, her face streaked with tears.

  My heart stopped and started.

  “What?” I asked, and even before she replied, I began to cry myself.

  “Daddy lost his Asa,” she said.

  A Loss

  “WHERE IS DADDY?”

  She didn’t reply.

  I hurried to her.

  When I reached the top of the stairway, I looked down and saw Daddy sitting on the small, decorative bench in the entryway. He had his hands clasped in his lap and was staring ahead. I thought he looked stunned.

  “What happened? Is Mother all right?”

  Cassie shook her head. Then she rose like a woman four times her age and started down the stairs. I followed slowly. My heart was racing so fast and hard I thought I would lose my breath and tumble down after her. When she reached Daddy, Cassie fell to her knees and embraced his legs, laying her head on his lap. He seemed to snap out of his melancholy and stroked her hair. Then he began to speak in a slow mumble.

  “They blame the anemia … weakened her … a miscarriage … she needed a transfusion … hemorrhaging … we nearly lost her, too. It all happened so quickly … I wasn’t there five minutes … rushing her out to the operating room. Dr. Moffet did all he could. I stayed with her … held her hand, but she didn’t speak, barely opened her eyes … emotional … traumatic … state of shock.”

  He lowered his head.

  “Will she be all right?” I cried.

  He didn’t reply. Cassie lifted her head and glared angrily at me, her eyes so full of heat and fury that I stepped back. Then she rose and sat beside him, putting her arm around him, pressing her cheek to his shoulder.

  “I know you’re both terribly disappointed,” Daddy said.

  “Only for you, Daddy,” Cassie quickly told him. “We’re worried about you more.”

  “And Mother,” I said.

  Finally, he looked at me and smiled. Then he lifted his arms, and I rushed into his embrace. He held me tightly. I had my eyes closed, but when I opened them, I saw Cassie had turned away. Daddy kissed the tears streaming down my cheek, and I stood up, wiping the rest of them away.

  “She’ll be fine after she rests,” he said. “But she’ll be … very fragile.”

  I looked at Cassie. Fragile? That was what she always called me.

  “We’ll take care of her,” Cassie told him. “Don’t you worry, Daddy. You have so much to worry about. Don’t you get yourself sick over this.”

  He smiled at her and sighed deeply, so deeply I thought his heart had slipped down into his stomach and he would keel over. Then he pressed down on his knees and stood.

  “We all should get some sleep. We’ll need our strength for the days to come,” he told us.

  Cassie rose and seized his left hand quickly. He pulled it free but put his arm around her shoulders.

  “Yes, Daddy,” she said. “Lean on me. Lean on me for as long as you like. I’m strong enough.”

  “That you are, dear Cassie. That you are.”

  They started toward the stairway, and then he stopped and turned back to me.

  “Come along, Semantha. You should go back to bed.”

  “She will,” Cassie said, her eyes narrowing.

  I started after them. I don’t think I shall ever forget Daddy walking up the stairway that night. He did lean on Cassie, and he lumbered along as though he had aged centuries. My handsome, robust daddy was reduced to a weak old man. For a moment, when he reached the middle of the stairway, he looked as if he might topple backward. I could see Cassie tightening her grip around his waist. She was strong. She was actually holding him up, helping him climb those stairs. I wanted to do more, but there was no room for me beside him. All I could do was remain as close behind them as possible, maybe to catch him or push him forward.

  When we reached the top of the stairs and Cassie had turned Daddy toward his and Mother’s bedroom, she paused and nodded at me.

  “You go to sleep, Semantha. I’ll help Daddy get to bed. Go on. Be a good girl, now.”

  Not only did she sound like Mother, she even wore Mother’s expression. They did look so much alike. She didn’t wait for my reply. She continued to guide Daddy down the hallway and turned him into the bedroom as if he had forgotten where it was and was going to walk past it. I stood there until I heard her close the door.

  For a moment, it felt as if all the air had gone out of our house and I was suffocating. Images of both Daddy and Mother at the hospital and gruesome, sad thoughts were spinning in my merry-go-round brain. I had to hold on to the railing until the nausea and dizziness passed. Eve
ry face in every ancestral painting hanging on the walls was glaring down angrily at me. At least, that was how it seemed to me. The historical family was upset and disappointed. An heir had been lost, a Heavenstone had been discarded like just so much medical waste. Whatever blessings and protection the spirits had given us would be taken away. We were unworthy of their royal support. This was only the beginning of our downfall.

  I fled from those looks of condemnation, imagined or otherwise, as I fled from the tragedy that had just unfolded.

  After quickly closing my door, I slipped back under my blanket and stared into the darkness. Would Daddy, the strength and power of our family, be so broken and inconsolable that he would be unable to continue? I agreed with Cassie that Uncle Perry could not step into Daddy’s shoes. I should have been worrying solely about him and about Mother, but oddly, what I thought about was how pleased all those at school who were jealous of me would be, how pleased those who were frustrated by my not groveling for their friendship would be. I hated the thought of returning to school once everyone had found out that something so terrible had happened to the Heavenstones.

  How could I be thinking of myself when Daddy was suffering so and Mother was too weak and sick to speak to him? Look at how concerned and caring Cassie was, how eager, and strong enough to be there for Daddy when he needed support the most. I felt so inadequate being sent to my room. Did everyone still see me as a little girl, inconsequential, just another teenager who still had jelly beans for a brain? In their minds, I wasn’t yet capable of being or acting mature enough to handle such a crisis. I had to be protected like a child.

  When I thought about how happy Mother and Daddy had been when they had learned she was carrying a boy and Daddy would have his Asa, I broke into a fit of hysterical sobbing. It seemed it would never end. I tried to get hold of myself, but the more I tried, the harder I sobbed. Finally, exhausted, out of breath, my chest aching, I smothered my face in the pillow and forced myself to stop.

  I know I slept on and off, twice waking to what sounded like Cassie crying in the hallway. I was too tired and terrified to get up to see, and the crying stopped. I hoped it was a dream. I had never seen Cassie cry. I had seen her have a tantrum, but never cry or whine. Just the thought of her doing that frightened me. What more terrible thing could happen to us?

  I didn’t want to get up in the morning, and I hated the thought of going to school. I hoped Daddy would want me to stay home. Maybe all of us would go to see Mother and try to cheer her up. That would be more important than my going to school and being a zombie in my classes. I wouldn’t hear anything or learn anything, anyway.

  Despite the hour, it was deathly quiet in the house. I rose and dressed as quickly as I could, more out of curiosity than anything else. I imagined Cassie would be preparing Daddy’s breakfast by now. Maybe he was up already and downstairs. I just hadn’t heard them. I rushed out and down to see, but when I stepped into the kitchen, I saw nothing had been done. Cassie had not been there this morning, and Daddy wasn’t at the table, either. Now worried as much as curious, I hurried back upstairs. I practically ran to Cassie’s room, knocked softly, and when I heard nothing, I opened the door to see what she was doing.

  She wasn’t there.

  It looked as if she hadn’t been there all night. The bed was still made the perfect Cassie way, and no head had creased her pillows.

  What was going on? Could it be that Daddy had been called back to the hospital and Cassie had gone with him? They hadn’t wanted to wake me up? What did this mean? Had something more happened to Mother? This time, I walked very slowly down the hallway to Daddy and Mother’s bedroom, terrified of what new horror I would learn of. I stood outside the door, listening for the sounds of his getting up, but I heard nothing, so I knocked softly on the door and waited.

  I was surprised to discover the door had been locked. I listened and knocked again, only a little harder, louder. Finally, I heard the lock being opened. Cassie stood there looking out at me sleepily. She ground her eyes with her small fists and straightened her shoulders. She was wearing what she had been wearing the night before.

  “What is it, Semantha?”

  “How’s Daddy? Why are you still here? Why aren’t you fixing him breakfast?”

  “Couldn’t you do something yourself?” she snapped back at me. “Would it have been so terrible for you to fix us both breakfast and bring it up here?”

  “I didn’t know you were still in here, Cassie.”

  “Of course, I’m still in here. I had to stay with him all night. He needed me.”

  She looked back at Daddy, who was fast asleep.

  “I talked him into taking one of Mother’s sleeping pills, and it finally took effect, so keep your voice down.”

  She stepped out and closed the door softly behind her.

  “I didn’t get much sleep myself,” she said. “Forget about school today. Neither of us is going.”

  “Good.”

  “I have to shower, change. In the meantime, you prepare the coffee. We’ll see if we can get him to eat something. I’ll be down in a little while. Go on,” she said, waving her hand toward the stairway.

  “What about Mother?”

  “What about her?”

  “Have we heard anything?”

  “No.”

  “I … thought I heard you in the hallway last night … crying.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “You and your imagination. Go on. Do something constructive.”

  She marched away. I looked at the closed door a moment and then went downstairs to make the coffee as she had ordered. When she still hadn’t come down, I started making Daddy’s favorite omelette with cheese and put up some toast. I got the tray ready and went out front to get Daddy’s newspaper and put it on the tray. As long as I kept busy, I could keep from crying and trembling. Just as I cut the toast in four quarters, Cassie appeared.

  “What are you doing? All I told you to do was make the coffee,” she said, marching in quickly.

  “I thought … I’d do more to help.”

  She poked a fork into the omelette.

  “This is way overcooked for Daddy. He hates dry eggs,” she said, and poured the omelette into the garbage disposal.

  “But I timed it,” I protested.

  “Obviously, you timed it wrong, Semantha.”

  She started on a new omelette.

  “You might as well eat that toast yourself. It will be cold and dry. Make yourself your own breakfast.”

  She prepared another omelette, and when she poured it onto the dish, I thought it didn’t look any different from the one I had made, but I was afraid to comment. I just ate a little cereal and fruit and nibbled on my toast as she worked. She poured the coffee into a pot, and for a moment, I thought she was going to complain about the coffee, too.

  “Is the coffee all right?

  “It’s a little weak, but he won’t know the difference this morning,” she replied.

  “But I measured it just the way you do.”

  “You didn’t put enough in one or two of the spoonfuls, Semantha. Forget about that for now,” she said.

  I noticed she had prepared enough toast and enough omelette for herself as well. She started for the stairway.

  “You’re going to eat up there, too?”

  “Of course. Would you have him eat alone this morning of all mornings? Start on the house when you’re finished in here,” she ordered.

  “Start on the house?”

  “The dusting, vacuuming, polishing furniture. I want to take the curtains down in the living room today and clean them as well. The piano looked dusty to me yesterday, but I didn’t have time to get to it,” she added. “It will bring happiness to Daddy when he sees how well we can look after everything, with or without Mother.” She continued up the stairway. She had a soft, pleasing smile on her face. Was that for Daddy’s benefit, or did she really enjoy all of this?

  I moved quickly to the foot of the sta
irs and called up to her before she reached the top.

  “What?”

  “What about Mother? Aren’t we going to the hospital?”

  “We’ll see. If she’s still in a state of shock or something, there might not be any point to our going. Daddy will be calling the doctor this morning. Just get on to your work. It’s not a holiday from school. We’re home because we have to be.”

  “I know.”

  “Good. I’m glad you know.”

  I looked up after her for a moment. Why wouldn’t we go to the hospital if Mother was still in a state of shock? Maybe our presence, our talking to her, would help bring her out of it faster. I don’t care what Cassie thinks, I thought. I’m going to the hospital, with or without her.

  For the time being, however, there was nothing for me to do but what Cassie had told me to do. I returned to the kitchen and cleaned up what I could and then got the vacuum cleaner, the polishing cloths, and polish and started on the living room, keeping one eye and one ear toward the stairway, anticipating Daddy’s coming down. I couldn’t understand his sleeping in this late. I concluded it was because of the sleeping pill, or pills, he had taken.

  I had finished with the vacuuming and started on the furniture when Cassie appeared. She had come downstairs so quietly I hadn’t heard her.

  “How is he?” I asked.

  “He’s a little groggy, but he’s okay now. He ate most of his breakfast, but only because I was there insisting. I told him it won’t do any of us any good if he gets himself sick, too.”

  “That’s what Mother always tells me when I’m sick and I don’t want to eat.”

  “Well, of course. That’s what a mother should say. He’s getting dressed.” She started to turn away.

  “Has he called the doctor?”

  “He has a call in to him. We’re waiting for the doctor to call back.”

  “Did he say we might go to the hospital?”

  “We’ll see. Just keep working,” she said, and left before I could ask any more questions.

  I kept working, but I was on pins and needles waiting for Daddy. Finally, I heard him coming down the stairway. I rushed out of the living room. He still looked a little tired, but he was dressed as handsomely as ever. He smiled when he saw me standing there with a polishing cloth. Cassie came out of the kitchen quickly.