The Heavenstone Secrets (Heavenstone 1)

She thought a moment.“You didn’t say anything to make him suspicious?”

“No.”

She nodded.

“He thinks I’m staying home because of Mother and what happened. He thinks I should see a therapist.”

“Oh, he does, does he? Good. Let him think that.”

“I asked him not to say anything to Daddy, but he might.”

“Don’t worry about him. I’ll know if he says anything to Daddy. Just keep doing what you’re doing,” she advised. “And don’t forget that girdle.”

I did as she said, frightened that she would appear suddenly at any time and catch me without it. It worked until I started what was my seventh month of this imaginary pregnancy. I had begun to experience the “quickening” Dr. Samuels had described, but I was afraid to mention it to Cassie. She made it clear that she still didn’t want to hear anything relating to my condition, whether it be pains, frequent urinating, or this.

Finally, I went into her bedroom late in the afternoon one day and told her I couldn’t wear the girdle. She had to listen whether she liked it or not. She was sitting at her vanity table, Mother’s vanity table, and brushing her hair slowly. Lately, she had been wearing more makeup and spending more time on her appearance. She didn’t turn from the mirror. She kept brushing her hair, either ignoring me or locked in some trance.

“Cassie, didn’t you hear what I said? It’s too difficult!” I cried.

The one thing she had done was buy me some dresses a few sizes too large. So far, we had been successful in keeping it all from Daddy. He was involved in some major new real estate ventures and expansion of the Heavenstone Stores. He was working on going public and raising millions through stock. It was all quite involved and over my head. I had so little patience for anything these days, anyway, even reading and watching television. Finicky, achy, and deeply unhappy about my imprisonment, I wandered about like some lunatic in an asylum. Anyone who had known and seen me seven months ago would surely wonder what was happening to me. I wasn’t taking care of my hair and didn’t bother to put on lipstick. What was the point? No one except Cassie and Daddy, when he was around, would see me.

“Nonsense,” she replied, still looking at herself in the mirror and still brushing her hair. “You’ll—”

“No!” I shouted. I couldn’t stand it anymore. “I can’t. I won’t. And there’s more. I am feeling the quickening. It’s more than a feeling. I feel a baby inside me … kicking. You’ve got to call Dr. Samuels and have him return, or else … or else I’m telling Daddy everything.”

She finally stopped brushing her hair and turned to me. She stared at me a moment. I thought she was going to go into one of her rages. I was prepared for it, but instead, she suddenly smiled, and for some reason, that smile was more frightening than any look of anger on her face.

“You feel the baby kicking?”

“Yes, and don’t go on about how it’s my subconscious. I can’t stand all this lying and avoiding Daddy’s eyes and everything. I want to tell him. I can’t live like this. I’m like a trapped animal.”

She was silent, but I didn’t budge. This is one time Cassie will not intimidate me, I thought. I’m not leaving this room until I get her to agree, and I will make it clear to her that even if she doesn’t agree, this is what I will do.

“Yes,” she said, surprising me. “It’s time to tell him, time to tell him everything.”

Her agreement had an effect on me that was the opposite of what I had expected. Instead of being satisfied, I was suddenly frightened. Maybe I shouldn’t be forcing this. Maybe I should wait, I thought.

“What about Dr. Samuels?”

“There’s no point in that man coming here, Semantha. He can’t change anything.”

“But he said I should go to a therapist. Can’t we arrange that secretly, too? I’ll do it.”

“There’s no point in that, either.”

“Why not? How do you know so much? You’re not a psychiatrist, Cassie.”

“I know enough.”

“No, you don’t. Mother used to say you were full of self-confidence, but too much self-confidence can be bad. It can make you arrogant, Cassie.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Well,” she said, continuing that now annoying smile, “I have just enough self-confidence to know there’s no reason for you to see a therapist.”

“And why not?” I was practically screaming now. I could feel the heat in my face and the strain in my neck.