Secret Whispers (Heavenstone 2)

He walked past me and up the stairs. I followed slowly and then turned to Daddy’s bedroom. Dr. Moffet was just leaving.

“Ah, Semantha, another tragedy befalls Heaven-stone. I’m sorry,” he said.

“The Heaven-stone family is used to tragedy and knows how to overcome it,” I said. I was sure I was repeating something Cassie had said, perhaps even to him after Mother’s death.

“Yes. Well, best to take each day as it comes.” He patted me on the arm and continued out.

I smiled to myself. Old Dr. Moffet, oblivious to the obvious things sometimes but with microscope eyes when it came to analyzing illness. Were we all doctors that way, oblivious to the obvious, too narrowly focused? I waited to hear Cassie’s response, but there was nothing but silence.

“Where are you?” I called down the hallway. Then I went to Daddy’s bedroom. The nurse was taking his blood pressure. She looked up as I entered. Daddy was lying there with his eyes closed.

“He’s exhausted,” she said. “Just a few minutes.”

I ignored her just as Cassie would and went right to Daddy’s side.

“You’re home and in your own bed, Daddy,” I said, taking his hand.

He opened his eyes and looked at me. “We’re going to lose our Lucille,” he said. His lips quivered.

“We’ll be fine, Daddy. We have each other.”

“She was good for us, Semantha, for all of us.”

Tears came to my eyes, not for Lucille but for Daddy, who was suffering from grief already.

“Take my advice and cherish one another, Semantha. Snap out of your doldrums or whatever is wrong with you, and enjoy your husband and your marriage. I’m depending on you more than ever now.”

“I will, Daddy. I promise,” I said.

“You’d better let him rest,” the nurse said. She was practically hovering over me.

“Good night, Daddy. I’ll be here as soon as I wake up,” I said, and kissed him. He held my hand longer, held it as if he never wanted to let it go.

Daddy’s back, I thought. I didn’t need Cassie to tell me.

Ethan was already in bed when I entered our bedroom. I moved about as quietly as I could. When I was in the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror and admitted to myself that I had made a terrible mess of my hair. I would call the salon first thing after breakfast. I was confident they’d fit me in. Everyone in this community would hear about Daddy’s accident. It would be breaking news on television and radio.

When I crawled under the blanket, I expected Ethan would turn to talk to me, but he was apparently in a deep sleep already. I didn’t want to wake him, but I couldn’t fall asleep quickly. I lay there staring up into the darkness. Flashing on the ceiling were scenes from the past, mostly happy scenes, memories of Mother and me taking a walk or cleaning house together. It was easy to picture her smi

ling; she had done it so often.

Cassie had used to say Mother behaved more like an innocent, unsophisticated young girl. She’d had so much faith in people and had a stubborn insistence on believing things would turn out all right.

“Our mother lives in a Santa Claus world,” Cassie would say. “She thinks ice on the road is a layer of diamonds, most crime is accidental, and death is a commercial interruption. Happiness will always survive and return.”

“I like that, Cassie. I want to be the same way and believe in the same things.”

“You would. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like her, a prisoner of delusion.”

“A happy prisoner, though.”

“Christmas trees. Talking to you is like talking to the wall.”

“You said these walls have ears,” I would remind her.

“Ancestral ears. Heaven-stone is history. Oh, forget it,” she would say. “You’re giving me a headache.”

Like two conspirators, Mother and I would smile after Cassie had said something unpleasant.