Heavenstone 01 - The Heavenstone Secrets

curtains, Cassie seemed to rise above her height and expand. Her face looked covered in a silvery-gold mask, with her eyes dark, vacant sockets.
    “He would never come right out and tell us something like that, Semantha,” she whispered.
    Whenever she whispered like this, I automatically whispered back. “Then how do you know it’s true, Cassie?”
    She looked as if she was smiling.
    “I know Daddy better than anyone, Semantha. I can tell immediately when he is happy and when he is not. He shoots me certain looks from time to time, looks he won’t permit anyone else to see, not even you, because he doesn’t want to upset you. He knows how fragile you are.”
    “I’m not fragile.”
    “Of course you are, Semantha. You know it’s because you were a premature baby, born nearly six weeks too early. You were kept in the hospital for almost three weeks. Everyone expected you would die.”
    “But I thought the doctor said I would do just fine.”
    “Of course, he would say something like that. He didn’t want to frighten and worry our parents. But think, Cassie. Haven’t you been ill with all the childhood diseases? You have much thinner bones than I do. When you’re naked, I can practically look right through you. The smallest, most insignificant little things get you upset or nervous. I know you’re afraid of almost everything, including your own shadow. That’s why I try to look after you as much as I do.”

    I didn’t say anything for fear she would think I sounded ungrateful, and I did feel more secure knowing she was keeping an eye on me.
    She leaned down again, kneeling slightly. Now I could see her eyes clearly because of the way they glittered in the moonlight. She looked very excited and, in an odd way, happy.
    “Mark my words. This is only the beginning. Prepare yourself for a great deal more difficulty to come,” she said, then rose and slipped out of my room as quietly as she had slipped in. It was almost as if I had dreamed the entire thing. My heart was thumping. I had to take deep breaths. Cassie was always saying I probably had asthma, but Dr. Moffet said it wasn’t so.
    In fact, this wasn’t the first time Cassie had told me I was fragile, weak, and prone to illness. Whenever I did get a cold or a bellyache, she was always there, nodding her head as if she had expected it. Maybe she’s right, I thought. Maybe I am fragile. I had to admit she hardly ever got sick. She had gone years without missing a day of school. When I had asked Mother about it once, she had said, “Cassie just has a better immune system than most people. She’s lucky, but don’t worry. There’s nothing terribly wrong with you. You’re a normal young girl.”
    What did that mean? Cassie wasn’t normal?
    I lowered my head to my pillow again but kept my eyes open. Was Cassie right? Would things get worse? What could we do about it, anyway? And why hadn’t I ever noticed how Daddy revealed things to her but not to me?

    I had a hard time falling back to sleep, but I finally did, and when I woke up, dressed, and went down for breakfast, I was surprised to see Cassie already in the kitchen making breakfast. I glanced into the dining room and saw Daddy at the table reading the morning paper. This morning, he looked as well put together as ever in his pin-stripe suit and tie, his hair as perfect as usual. There was no evidence in his face or demeanor that he had suffered a horrible night with Mother.
    “Where’s Mother?” I asked Cassie.
    She continued to work, preparing some soft-boiled eggs the way Daddy liked them, all mashed up. She flitted about to get the toast, cream cheese, and coffee set up on a tray. Daddy liked his toast cut into perfect quarters, and she cut it as if she had a ruler in her head. Finally, she turned to me and grimaced.
    “Mother’s not feeling well this morning, Semantha. I’m getting Daddy his breakfast first because he has to get to the office, and then I’ll look after Mother. Make your own breakfast. Squeeze your oranges for your juice. Also, I won’t be going with you to school today, so you’ll have to take the bus. Well? Get moving. Don’t dilly-dally.”
    “Why aren’t you going to school?”
    She glanced at the open doorway to the dining room and drew closer to me.
    “I’m staying home to look after her,” she whispered. “Daddy can’t miss work.”
    “Oh. Should I go up to see how she is?”
    “She’s still asleep, which is not surprising. Justtake care of