Heavenstone 01 - The Heavenstone Secrets

would be gone. I started back to my room, worrying, of course, that Mother might not have the medical attention she needed. Maybe Daddy would hire a new private-duty nurse tomorrow, I thought, and that gave me some comfort. But when I stepped into my bedroom, I also thought Cassie would persuade him not to bother. She was usually very successful when it came to persuading him to do one thing or another.
    I started to get back into bed but stopped.
    How convenient it was that Mrs. Bledsoe, of allpeople, had contracted a stomach flu. Cassie was somehow to blame for this, I thought. But even if Cassie had deliberately taken all of the toilet paper and tissues out of the bathroom before, how did she know Mrs. Bledsoe would have such a nasty flu?
    The answer exploded in my head. I froze with my blanket in my hand.
    Then I quietly left my room and tiptoed through the hallway and down the stairs. When I flipped on the kitchen light, I really didn’t know what to look for or where to look, but I went to the garbage compactor and rifled through some of the refuse. I saw the first one and plucked it out. It was an emptied laxative capsule. I knew what they were. I had once been given one. I opened the cabinet we used for our medicines and saw the bottle. It was nearly empty.
    Staring at it, I recalled how Cassie had doled out everyone’s meal and then had gone back to get Mrs. Bledsoe more meat loaf.
    It stunned me.
    “What are you doing?” I heard Cassie ask.
    My heart jumped in my chest when I turned and saw her standing in the kitchen doorway.
    “Why aren’t you in bed?”
    She stepped into the kitchen, her eyelids narrowing and her shoulders rising.
    Without accusing Cassie of anything, I said, “She’ll find out she doesn’t have the flu, Cassie.”
    “Of course, she has the flu, Semantha. It can’t be food poisoning. You and I ate the same things, and we’re fine. She agrees. She’s just about packed. The taxi is arriving any minute to take her away.”

    She moved closer to me, seeming to grow taller, wider.
    “It’s best for all of us, Semantha. You agree, don’t you? Don’t you?”
    I looked at the medicine cabinet and then at her. Her eyes followed my moves, but then she stuck her gaze on my face. I nodded.
    “Good. Then go to sleep. Everything’s okay. I’ll see that everything is just fine. I’ll have your breakfast ready, too. Good night,” she said, closing the medicine-cabinet door. She folded her arms across her breasts and stared at me until I turned and hurried out of the kitchen.
    I hurried up, taking two steps at a time and gasping at the top. I didn’t stay there long. All I wanted to do was get back into my bedroom before Mrs. Bledsoe appeared. I knew I couldn’t look into her face without crying.
    And if there was one thing I was afraid to do right now, it was cry.
    Cassie wouldn’t like it.

Sedated
    D ESPITE THE LITTLE sleep Cassie had, she was up ahead of me and very bright and energetic in the morning. I had heard Mrs. Bledsoe leave her room and go down the stairs during the night. I had gone to my door and listened harder and heard Cassie, too. She sounded very pleasant and concerned for her. Mrs. Bledsoe kept thanking her.
    “I’m bringing Daddy and Mother’s breakfast up to them,” Cassie told me. “Everything you need for your breakfast is right here on the counter.”
    “Does Mother know about Mrs. Bledsoe?”
    “Daddy told her last night. She wasn’t very upset about it. I knew she wasn’t fond of having her. I can see a change in her already.”
    “Really?”
    “Of course. Being under that added tension only harmed her recuperation. It was too stressful. Hurry and eat, and then go up to say good-bye for the day. You have to make the bus, Semantha, and the clock doesn’t wait for anyone,” she added, which was one of Daddy’s favorite expressions.
    She fixed the tray and left. What Cassie had doneto Mrs. Bledsoe frightened me, but, like her, I did feel things were more normal in our home. Because we had never had sleep-in help or even part-time house help as long as I could remember, we were closer than most wealthy families who had servants. Perhaps Mother was right about that. Whenever something made one of us unhappy, the rest of us felt it and reacted and were not ashamed to show it. There was no one here to make us feel embarrassed about our emotions, and nothing about our personal lives could become fodder for gossip.
    After school and on weekends,