Heavenstone 01 - The Heavenstone Secrets

“Yes, a date.”
    Not only had Cassie never gone on a date, but she had never spoken of any romantic interest in any boy in school or elsewhere. I knew there were nasty whispers and rumors about her because of that, so this was more than just a surprise. It was a happy surprise.
    “That’s nice, Cassie.”
    “I’ll let you know if it’s nice or not. Anyway, I’ll give you the menu to prepare for Friday.”
    “Maybe Daddy would want to go out to dinner,” I suggested.
    The idea seemed to shock her. Her eyes widened.“Don’t you dare pressure him to do that, Semantha Heavenstone. He’ll be coming home from a hard week. We had to make so many adjustments in how we do business, and he’s carrying terrible sorrow day in and day out. The last thing he needs is to come home and go right out again, especially to face people, restaurant owners, managers, waiters and waitresses who were accustomed to seeing him withMother. They’ll kill him with their pitiful, sad looks of compassion, which is just what he does not need right now.”
    “I won’t pressure him. I just thought—”
    “Don’t think. I’m doing all the thinking for you. Now, I’m going to get out of these clothes, put on my robe, and see how he is.”
    She nodded at her doorway as if to give me permission to leave, and I started out. Her robe, I thought. It’s Mother’s robe. Those are Mother’s slippers. And I didn’t care what she claimed, that was Mother’s locket and always would be to me. I couldn’t do what she was doing, erase Mother from all of these things just so I wouldn’t feel sad.
    She closed the door behind me as soon as I stepped into the hallway. I heard her lock click. How odd, I thought. I couldn’t recall a time when she had locked her bedroom door. It was as puzzling as so many other things she was now doing, but I just shrugged and went back to my bedroom to finish the homework Mrs. Underwood had given me.
    Much later, I heard her come up the stairway with Daddy. He sounded groggy, and when I looked out, I saw she was helping him along to his bedroom. He looked wobbly. He is drinking too much, I thought. I made a mental note to call Uncle Perry to tell him. I waited for quite a while in my doorway after Cassie had brought Daddy to his bedroom and then returned to my homework. Finally, I heard her come out, and I rushed back to the doorway.
    “How is he?”
    “Suffering,” she said, and went into herbedroom, locking her door again. The click echoed down the hallway.
    How different everything in my life seemed now. I knew it was my overworked imagination, but after Mother’s death, the house changed. Shadows were deeper, darker. The faces on the ancestral portraits were gloomy, foreboding. Suddenly, they all looked like Daddy, depressed, with a sadness that flowed inside them with their blood.
    Every sound in the house was different now, too. Footsteps echoed longer, spidery creaks formed webs of sound that vibrated in the ceilings and through the walls, sometimes resembling groans and moans. All of the lights were dimmer, and the windows filtered and weakened the sunlight that had once brightened our rooms and our lives. For the first time, I thought I could smell the age in the walls. It was as if our ancestral home was decomposing like the skeletons of our relatives.
    The once beautiful and comfortable, classically styled living room had become a funeral parlor in which my father sat to suffer through his reminiscences. The sound of my mother’s voice was still fresh in his ears, the whiff of her perfumed hair still lingered in his nostrils, the feel of her soft skin remained on his fingertips, and the taste of her lips coated his. Surely, she stood before him, a shimmering ghost so close and yet a world away.
    I feared he toyed with ending his own life like some modern-day Romeo challenged by the realization that all that had once been wonderful and beautiful was gone. The death of his soul mate was like asword through his heart. Why go on? Every pleasure would be half a pleasure, every joy half a joy, even the joy he took in Cassie and me.
    Perhaps Cassie felt this even more strongly than I did, and that was why she was so adamant about protecting him, pleasing him, helping him. She would never admit it as quickly or as easily as I would, but she might be as afraid for him as I was. I have to be a little more understanding, I thought, a little more forgiving, even when she seems to be so mean to