Heavenstone 01 - The Heavenstone Secrets

terrible thing could happen to us?
    I didn’t want to get up in the morning, and Ihated 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 thecoffee into a pot, and for a moment, I thought she was going to