The Heavenstone Secrets

by V. C. Andrews

  We were at lunch again at a small Italian restaurant near our store in Lexington. I had wanted to ask Uncle Perry to join us, but again, I was afraid that would upset Cassie, even though we always went to nice places and never fast-food stops. Our lunches usually ran an hour or so. I hadn’t realized how much I had been eating during the last two weeks, but at every lunch we had out together, I finished everything I ordered, and she barely ate hers. I saw it put a soft smile on her face.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Well, maybe it’s just that I enjoy watching you eat. You have a healthy appetite.”

  “Maybe it’s not so healthy. I know I’ve gained weight, especially here,” I said, pressing my right palm against my breasts.

  “You’re maturing,” she said. “Boys will like you better. Don’t most young girls squeeze and push until they finally show cleavage? I see how they flaunt themselves, trying to be a magnet for the eyes of boys. They should simply wear signs on their forehead, Notice me! Notice me! Remember what I told you. In their heart of hearts, boys admire the girls who are self-confident enough not to have to go chasing after them. They look special.”

  “You’ve always been that way, Cassie.”

  “Of course.”

  “But you haven’t done much dating.”

  “My standards are too high for the boys at our school. Porter has been the first young man who interested me at all.”

  That gave me my opening.“Can I ask you why he doesn’t come around, then, or why you haven’t seen him since that first date, Cassie? I know you’re still fond of him. I hear how well you speak of him with Daddy.”

  “That’s business,” she replied, bristling. “One thing has nothing to do with another. Porter happens to be a far better executive than the man running on only one cylinder who is currently the store manager.”

  I smiled. That was one of Daddy’s expressions, one of his ways of describing someone he thought wasn’t living up to his expectations or putting out what he should for the business, “running on one cylinder.”

  “Anyway, I’m not ready for such a relationship,” she continued. “I have things to accomplish yet, and I don’t want someone else’s mood swings and needs to complicate my life. I don’t want to make the necessary compromises just to please someone else.”

  She said all that in her usual sharp tone, so I quickly changed the subject and talked about the new book she had bought me two days ago. Since we hadn’t replaced Mrs. Underwood yet, she was still in charge of my reading and designed what she said was the proper foundation to prepare me for my formal schooling when that started again.

  “Don’t I have to have a certified tutor?”

  “Stop worrying about it. You’ll be fine. Believe me, you’ll do well now with your entrance exams and be better prepared than most of the rich kids who attend whatever school we choose.”

  “So, when are we going to visit the private schools, Cassie?”

  “Soon,” she said. “There’s no rush. They’re not going anywhere.”

  Neither was I, I thought, but I swallowed it back. Little did I know then, but there was a big reason I need not rush developing inside me.

  Expecting

  THREE DAYS LATER, I woke in the morning with a terrible wave of nausea and had to run to the bathroom to throw up. Cassie heard me and came quickly to see what was wrong.

  “I think I have food poisoning,” I said, and moaned, holding my stomach.

  “I heard there is a stomach virus going around. Make sure you drink a lot of liquids.”

  “Should I go see Dr. Moffet?”

  “Just because you threw up once? It’s probably one of those twenty-four-hour things. Take it easy today.” She put her hand on my forehead. “You have no fever. It looks like the stomach flu. Are you tired, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “And a little achy?”

  “Yes. Especially my lower back,” I said, pressing my hand to it and bending over like an old lady.

  “Go back to bed. I’ll bring up some tea and toast for you.”

  “You will?”

  I could never in a million years even imagine Cassie serving me in my room. She had used to make fun of Mother for doing it when I was sick, and when she was sick, she had never let Mother bring her food or even give her the medicine. Whether she had fever or not, she would get up and go downstairs.

  “Of course, I will. Go on. Back to bed.”

  I did, and she brought up the tea and toast. My stomach calmed down, and I soon felt better enough to get up and dress. To my surprise, my appetite quickly returned, and I ate a big lunch with Cassie out on the patio facing our pool. Spring was, as Daddy might say, cut off at the knees this year, with summer galloping on its heels. The weathermen were talking about record-breaking summer temperatures coming and the possibility of a drought. Our skies were almost all blue every day, with lazy clouds drifting so slowly they looked more like patches pasted over holes in the heavens.

  Mother had always had our pool heated by now, and Daddy, even though he hardly used it, had continued that practice. It did look inviting. It was a large oval-shaped pebble-tech pool with an overhang on the deep end that provided shade in the afternoon. Mother had always avoided the sun. She had said she did that to protect her complexion, but Daddy had always teased her and said it was evidence of snobbery. Rich people, Cassie had explained to me afterward, avoided tans in the old days because day laborers always had tans. Of course, Mother had insisted that wasn’t her reason.

  Cassie had never been fond of swimming or doing much of anything outdoors. She said she got enough exercise taking care of our big house. She was always moving about, doing something, and did continue to enjoy a nearly perfect figure. In fact, looking at her and then at myself now got me a little depressed. Neither Daddy nor Mother was overweight, but I could see that my face was bloated. My little forays into the food pantry to nibble on crackers and cookies were showing results. I made a New Year’s–like resolution to stop.

  “I’d like to go swimming today,” I told Cassie.

  “So, go. You look like you’re over what hit you this morning.”

  “I tried on some bathing suits yesterday.”

  “And?”

  “They all looked too small or felt too tight.”

  “So, we’ll get you some new ones.”

  “I think I should go on a diet, Cassie.”

  “Oh, please. Don’t become like those anorexic, narcissistic bubble-heads and end up being a mannequin. That’s all Daddy needs now, something else to worry about. Just eat normally.”

  “That’s the problem, Cassie. Lately, I’m not eating normally. Look at today. I throw up and then suddenly get so hungry I could have had double what I had.”

  “Symptomatic of a short-lived flu,” she said with confidence.

  Maybe she’s right, I thought, and stopped talking about it, but the following morning, I was nauseated again, and again, I threw up. I had a more painful lower backache and was too tired to go down to breakfast. Again, Cassie brought me some tea and toast.

  “I should go to the doctor,” I told her. When she didn’t say anything, I added, “You said what I had was short-lived.”

  “We’ll see. Flu does that sometimes, comes and goes.”

  “There’s something else,” I told her before she started out of my bedroom.

  “What?”

  “I should have had my period two days ago.”

  She stood there thinking. “Sometimes, when you are sick with a flu or something, you lose your regularity. Let’s wait before we let our imaginations run wild.”

  “What do you mean? How can mine run wild about my period?”

  She squinted. “Let’s wait,” she said firmly. “And don’t say anything to Daddy. He’s having something of a crisis at the office.”

  “What?”

  “At one of our stores, one of our idiot salesmen left a rack sticking out too far, and an elderly woman tripped
and broke her hip. Her family is suing us.”

  “He didn’t say anything about it last night at dinner.”

  “Don’t you remember? He doesn’t like to talk about the business at dinner. Mother hated it, and I don’t like it, either,” she said.

  “But I’ve heard you—”

  “Semantha, please don’t be a problem for us right now. Just deal with your problems like a mature young woman, like a Heavenstone. Show some spine, some independence and strength. Dip into your heritage, your blood, and overcome your fears and weaknesses,” she lectured.

  I tried to do as she said. I kept my headaches, my backaches, and my morning nausea to myself for the remainder of the week. The nausea subsided, but the backaches were always there. When two more weeks went by and I still hadn’t gotten my period, I began to panic. Something strange was happening to me, all right. Left alone, I thought again and again about the night Porter had come to dinner and I had drunk too much wine. Those dreams seemed like more than dreams. The images, and feelings were all still too vivid, too strong. Dreams tended to thin out and drift away like smoke, but these memories were actually becoming stronger, clearer.

  I was spending more and more time alone now, too. Cassie said she had to visit the office more. There were other problems, and Daddy needed her. She still spent more time with me than she usually had, but I had longer periods during the day when I simply fell asleep or was too tired to do anywhere near what I used to do.

  And then I began to notice other changes in my body. I was going to the bathroom more often, and when I took off my clothes and looked at myself in the mirror, I noticed there was a darkening around my nipples, a darkening I had never seen. My breasts were bigger, and I was sure I had a little pouch developing in my abdomen. I felt a hot flash through my neck and face and went to my computer. My fingers trembled as I searched for the information I dreaded to read, but it was there, and it took my breath away.

  Late that afternoon, Cassie found me waiting for her in the living room, sitting in Daddy’s chair. I had done nothing about dinner, nor had I done any of my usual chores. I didn’t open a book, either. I had spent most of my time just sitting and thinking and shivering under the dreadful weight of what I now believed.

  The moment she entered and saw me, she paused. “What are you doing? Why are you sitting there like that?”

  “Cassie, I think … I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant.”

  To my surprise, she didn’t laugh or start to ridicule me. “Oh, really?”

  “I’ve read about it, and I have every symptom.”

  “And how do you explain being pregnant, Semantha? Are you going to tell me it just happened, an immaculate conception?”

  “No. Listen. Here’s what I think. That night … when Porter was here and you brought me up after I had drunk too much wine …”

  “What about it, Semantha?”

  “Was he out of your sight for a while? Did you leave him and go clean up after dinner?”

  “Why?”

  “I think … he might have raped me.”

  “Porter Andrew Hall raped you? Please. Besides, how could you not know you were raped?”

  “When we were in the kitchen getting the food, he might have slipped one of those date rape drugs into my wine. Our health teacher explained them to us and warned us about them. Some are tasteless and clear and give you amnesia.”

  She stared at me as if I had gone mad.“Maybe you are spending too much time alone. Your imagination is running away with itself.”

  “Well, I have no other explanation for this, Cassie!”

  “Really? Will you swear that while I was away working with Daddy, all these past months, that Kent didn’t come around and talk you into doing more than you wanted? He tried it on your first date, didn’t he?”

  “Absolutely not. No one’s been here. None of those kids called me again or anything. I have to see a doctor.”

  She nodded slowly.“Well, it can’t be our doctor, Dr. Moffet. He would tell Daddy, and we don’t want Daddy knowing any of this.”

  “Why not? I need him to know.”

  “Are you crazy? You would do that to him now? Why don’t you just sneak into his room late at night and stab him in the heart, Semantha?”

  I started to cry.

  “That’s perfect. Act like a child just when we need you to be grown up the most.”

  “Well, this is hard for me, Cassie. I didn’t have anything to do with Kent or any of them. I swear.”

  “Well, don’t you make any wild accusations about Porter. All we need now is another lawsuit.”

  “What will we do?”

  “It’s not brain surgery, Semantha. I’ll get one of those pregnancy test kits, and we’ll see. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  “What if … if it shows I am pregnant?”

  “I’ll find another doctor, and I’ll bring him here to see you.”

  “When?”

  “Right away,” she said. “Stand up.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to look at you. Stand up and take off your robe. Go on.”

  I did as she asked, and she drew closer, studying my body, my breasts.

  “Since Daddy won’t be looking at you naked, we’ll be fine for now. You don’t look big enough for anyone to think anything more than that you gained some weight. If Daddy says anything about that, admit you’ve been a little pig these past weeks, and promise you’ll have more control. Put your robe back on. Go get dressed, and let’s think about dinner.” She left me standing there, still naked, still terribly afraid.

  I did the best I could to hide my nervousness from Daddy at dinner. Cassie helped by distracting him with some suggestions about the landscaping, pool furniture, and some other minor problems on the property that she thought needed attention. She pointed out that he had hardly been home and probably hadn’t noticed. She complained about our maintenance people and got Daddy to agree that he could do the things she thought necessary. She thanked him and said I would help. It was only then that he really looked at me and gently suggested I might do with a little exercise. Cassie promised to make sure I did. Her little glances kept me mute.

  Late the following morning, she came home with the test kit.

  “All right,” she said. “Go into the bathroom and get some of your urine in this cup. This is a good test. The pharmacist told me it’s the same one they use in clinics, and it’s ninety-nine percent accurate. Go on.”

  She handed me the cup, and I did as she asked. I stood by waiting as she tested with the strip. The grimace on her face alarmed me.

  “What?”

  “According to this, you’re not pregnant, Semantha.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Me, either.”

  “I should see Dr. Moffet, then.”

  “No. I still want us to leave Daddy out of it. We are old enough to handle this ourselves. It’s a woman’s issue. I’ll get another doctor, as I promised.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow. I’ll bring him here. I’ve already done some research and have spoken to someone.”

  “Another doctor will come here? I thought only Dr. Moffet made house calls and only because of us.”

  “Christmas trees. When will you learn? Everyone has a price. Medicine is just another business,” she said. “Now, let’s not think any more about this until then.”

  Early in the afternoon on the following day, while I was working on some math problems she had left for me to do, Cassie returned with a man she introduced as Dr. Samuels. He was a short man, not more than an inch or so taller than I was, with curly dark brown hair and a dark brown mustache that I thought was poorly trimmed. His hazel eyes weren’t especially big, but they bulged a little, making it seem as if he was astonished all the time. I was never good at guessing ages, but because he had some graying at his temples and some deep crow’s feet and creases in his forehead, I thought he was in his late fifties or early sixties.

  “Let’s go u
p to your bedroom, Semantha,” Cassie said. “Dr. Samuels will examine you, and we’ll see what’s to be done.”

  He didn’t smile or say anything comforting as Dr. Moffet would have. His silence made me a little uncomfortable, but I did as Cassie asked.

  “Just sit on your bed,” he told me, and opened his doctor’s satchel to take out a stethoscope. Before he did anything, he asked me questions about my nausea, my backaches, and my period. His face didn’t reveal anything. He simply nodded at my answers and descriptions and then finally asked me to undress. I looked at Cassie. She stood right behind him and nodded.

  He studied my breasts and touched my stomach. His look of astonishment grew even more emphatic when he listened to my stomach with the stethoscope. He asked me to go into the bathroom to take another quick pregnancy test. After he checked the strip, he spoke quietly with Cassie outside in the hallway while I waited on my bed. When they returned, they both wore very serious looks of concern that frightened me.

  “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Well, for one thing,” Dr. Samuels said, “you are not pregnant in the normal sense.”

  “I don’t understand. How can you be pregnant abnormally?”

  He looked at Cassie before continuing, and she nodded.

  “You are suffering with what we call pseudocyesis. We don’t see it that often in young girls as much as in mature women.”

  “What is that?”

  “With pseudocyesis, women have symptoms similar to true pregnancy. They have morning sickness, tender breasts, gain weight, suffer abdominal distension, and many actually claim they experience the sensation of fetal movement, known as quickening, even though there is no fetus present. Some actually go into false labor.”

  “The most famous case of that is Mary Tudor, the queen of England, who believed she was pregnant more than once when she wasn’t. She needed an heir,” Cassie said.

  I wondered how she could know so much about everything, even this very unusual female condition.