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“So what?” She narrowed her eyes. “Never, never let anyone make you feel guilty for having expensive and beautiful things, Semantha. Believe me, if they could, they’d have them, too. Rich people who feel that way diminish not only their own meaning and identity but the hard work and effort their fathers and mothers have put in to get them to where they are in the world. I’m with those who say if you have it, flaunt it.” She laughed. “Although, I can tell you, I didn’t learn that from my father. After all, he’s a banker, and bankers hoard money rather than spend it.”
“What are you two gabbing about?” Daddy cried. “I’m starving. Let’s eat. There’s time enough for you girls to ride around and show off.”
“Oh, we know. There’ll always be time enough for that, Teddy,” Lucille said, winking at me.
We got out. I looked back at my car and then down at my watch and thought, Lucille is right. I won’t be ashamed of what I have or who I am. I was sure I could do that and still respect people who had far less. At least, I hoped I could.
We returned to the dining room and the conversation about their wedding. Even so, I could see Daddy’s surprise graduation gift seemed to have taken some of the wind out of Lucille’s sails. I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her, sorry I had taken away the spotlight. I think he realized it, too, because as soon as we finished with our entrée, Daddy said, “I hear Lucille gave you your graduation gift today as
well, Semantha.”
“Oh, yes, Daddy. You must come up to my room to see it.”
“That I will,” he said. “Mrs. Dobson, we’ll have coffee and dessert in the den in ten minutes,” he told her, and rose. “Lucille?”
“Why don’t you two go up and look at it, Teddy. I’ll meet you in the den. I want to check on something in the office,” she said. “I’m waiting for a fax from Senator Brice’s office. His secretary told me she was confident he would attend our wedding, but I want to see it in writing.”
Daddy nodded.
“She’s not checking on anything,” he whispered to me as we started for the stairway. “We already heard from Senator Brice. See how sensitive and considerate she can be, Semantha? That was just an excuse. She wants us to have some father-daughter privacy. You’re going to come to appreciate Lucille as much as I do. I’m confident of it.”
I wondered if he could hear Cassie’s scream as clearly as I could. It seemed to echo down the hallways and bounce like a ping-pong ball against every door and window.
When we stepped into my bedroom and he saw the photograph in the frame, he stood looking at it so long in silence I thought I would burst into tears before he said a word.
“It’s a beautiful frame, perfect,” he said softly. “Your mother loved you very much, both of you. Back then, I couldn’t imagine life without her. It seemed our love for each other had built a divine wall of protection around us.”
He took a deep breath, drinking in air like someone who had just come up from being underwater. Daddy wasn’t one to show his emotions so easily, especially with me. He could be angry, yes, but a face of sorrow wasn’t something he permitted himself often. He nodded and smiled, quickly regaining hold of himself. I could almost see him seize his emotions around their necks and set them down.
“I think it’s a terrific sign of self-confidence for Lucille to think of such a gift for you. She believes, as do I, that you will come to accept her as a close friend, if not a mother. You did a nice thing today shopping with her. She told me when we first met that she regretted being an only child and not having an older or younger sister. I guess you’ll be more like a younger sister to her than a stepdaughter, don’t you think? At least, I hope you’ll be.”
He turned to me and realized I had been staring at him the whole time he spoke. Then, without further comment, he put his arm around me and held me close. Together, we cried in silence. We finally cried together, both of us, out of happiness and sorrow. Lucille had done this. She had brought Daddy and me together the way I had hoped we would be.
“Come on. Let’s see what Mrs. Dobson has for dessert. She told me she was doing something special for your first dinner home after your graduation.”
She had done something special. She had made her famous English white cake with the words Congratulations, Miss Semantha in chocolate. Daddy led our applause. I could see how much pleasing him meant to Mrs. Dobson. Lucille had probably been sucking up most of his compliments these days, with sparingly few going to her.
“This is my own mum’s recipe,” she said proudly. “We had it only on very special occasions.”
I thanked her and hugged her, which embarrassed her, so she fled.
Later, the three of us sat in the den and talked. Actually, Lucille did most of the talking, mainly continuing the discussion about their wedding and the high-profile guests they were expecting. Every once in a while, she would turn to me to support her opinion of something we had seen or ordered for the wedding. Daddy looked happier than I could ever remember. Normally, that would have upset me. Normally, it would have seemed sinful for him to be happier than when he was with Mother, but tonight I could deny him nothing.
How different I felt when I went to sleep this time. Something Lucille had advised appeared true. She had said that the way she handled bad memories was to pile on good memories, deliberately do things to please herself, to create happy times, and after a while, the weight of all of that drives the bad memories farther and farther down until they don’t come back so often, and even when they do, they’re easy to push away.
Today was certainly proof of that. I hadn’t thought much about Ethan or Ellie or any of my unhappy experiences at school. I wondered if I could do it tomorrow and the day after as well. I wanted to. For one thing, Cassie still had little or nothing to say. She was mute in her grave, and my mind danced with all sorts of wonderful and delicious new possibilities. Maybe I would go to work with Uncle Perry. Maybe I would find someone better than Ethan. Maybe we would be a family again.
Like a dying ember in a fireplace, the image of Cassie’s angry face dwindled and went dark. I could sleep, and for once I would not be afraid of my dreams. The Heaven-stone house sighed with relief. There were no moans and groans of age in the pipes, floors, ceilings, and walls. Downstairs, our ancestors opened their eyes again. Maybe Daddy was right. We were too powerful a family. Fate would pause at our gates with her bag full of trouble and disaster, look up our driveway, and quickly move on to the homes of weaker and more vulnerable families.
I imagined a sign on the lawn: beware of the Heaven-stones.
I smiled to myself and fell asleep, no longer afraid of the morning to come.
But before morning, I had a terrible nightmare. In it, Lucille was shoveling dirt into Cassie’s grave, covering her coffin.
And Cassie was screaming my name, pleading with me to stop Lucille.
I let her keep shoveling.
