Heavenstone 01 - The Heavenstone Secrets

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 wasalways 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 yourheritage, 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