Heavenstone 02 - Secret Whispers

After Cassie had made sure that Mother overdosed on her sleeping pills, she had tried to erase any and all traces of her death by changing our parents’ bedroom. She could replace the furniture, the flooring, and the curtains, but nothing would ever erase the image of Mother asleep forever in her bed. Nothing would drown out my screams and tears. I could never look at the stairway to the attic and not see Cassie tumbling down. And it was certainly impossible for me to fall asleep in my own bed and not, as I had told Ethan, occasionally revisit my rape.
    Once, when Daddy and I had one of our painful conversations after it was all over and done, he said, “As hard as it will be, Semantha, we must face our demons here. We cannot let them drive us from our home and our history. We’ll never be who we really are if we leave. Be strong. Face them down.”
    I promised I would, and I was confident I could,but that was before Cassie had returned from her grave to haunt me. That had become more and more intense this last year of private high school, so I couldn’t help being a little more apprehensive than usual as we approached Heaven-stone.
    “Home sweet home,” Daddy said as we drove up our long driveway.
    Our Gothic Revival mansion had been built in the Bluegrass region of Kentucky because this was where Daddy’s ancestors had come to live when they left England. The house had ten rooms. Five were downstairs: the large living room with the original fieldstone fireplace with stone up to the ceiling; a large dining room with a grand teardrop chandelier that had been imported years ago from France; a kitchen that had been renovated five times to provide for more modern appliances, twice alone after Daddy and Mother married; a dark oakwood den that was our entertainment center; and Daddy’s home office with its library of leather-bound first editions.
    Mrs. Dobson, anticipating our arrival, was at the door even before we got out of the car. Our limousine driver grabbed my suitcases, and we started up the steps. I imagined Daddy wanted to get me settled in first and then would take Lucille home.
    “Welcome home, Miss Semantha,” Mrs. Dobson said. She reached for my carry-on bag.
    “It’s all right, Mrs. Dobson,” I said, keeping it. Ever since she had come to work for us, she had pampered me. My father swore he hadn’t given her any special instructions regarding my needs. She was more like a sweet grandmother to me now.
    “Oh, but you must be tired, Miss. All that traveling and excitement were surely enough to wear you down.”
    “It’s nothing, Mrs. Dobson. Really, I’m fine.”
    “She’s still young enough to handle this short a trip,” Lucille said almost curtly. “We didn’t exactly travel in what you would call steerage.”
    Mrs. Dobson glanced at her without speaking.
    Daddy took my suitcases from the driver. “I’ll take it from here, Jeff. Thanks.”
    “Very good, Mr. Heaven-stone.”
    He turned and headed back to the limousine. I looked at Lucille. Why were they sending the limousine away?
    We entered the house.
    “Should I prepare something to eat, Mr. Heaven-stone?” Mrs. Dobson asked.
    “We ate on the plane. Thank you, Mrs. Dobson,” he said, and then turned to Lucille.
    “I’ll just get her set and come down. Pour me a scotch and soda, will you?”
    “Of course. Welcome home, Semantha,” she told me, and went into the den.
    “Oh, I can do that, Mr. Heaven-stone,” Mrs. Dobson said, reaching for the suitcase.
    “They’re not too heavy?”
    “Hardly,” she said. “I’ve carried heavier up steeper hills than this beautiful stairway.”
    It wasn’t like Daddy to let her carry suitcases, but he gave in quickly.
    “I’ll take one,” I said sharply.
    “Okay,” Daddy said. “After you settle in, cometo the den. We’ll talk and catch up. Unless you are too tired.”
    “Oh, no, Daddy. I’m fine.”
    “Good. See you soon,” he said, and hurried after Lucille.
    Mrs. Dobson and I began to go up the stairway.
    “How was your graduation ceremony?” Mrs. Dobson asked.
    “Fine,” I said.
    “Despite what you just told your father, I imagine you are tired,” she said, hearing the tenseness in my voice.
    “No, no, I’m fine,” I said. It had been so long since Daddy and I had had any sort of face-to-face conversation, I was eager to get back downstairs.
    Mrs. Dobson, however, had gotten to know me well over the years. She looked at me closely when we turned at the top and