Secret Whispers Read online

  “So, what’s the favor, Ellie?” I didn’t want to seem impatient, but I had about four hundred pages of outside reading to do for anthropology.

  “I’m on probation because of my grades, which means I’m grounded.”

  “What? When did this happen?”

  “I just found out. And this weekend, there’s a big party at his fraternity, like the biggest party of the year.”

  I stared at her for a moment. This was a long pause in an Ellie Patton speech. What was coming next? It looked as if I would have to pry it out of her.

  “I still don’t see how I can . . .”

  “I never told you that Mrs. Hathaway called me into her office to discuss you,” she blurted.

  I sat back. “No. I wouldn’t have missed that if you did. Why did she do that?”

  “Why? You know how much she likes to turn everyone into a little spy around here.”

  “And?”

  “And . . . and you never ask permission to go off campus on a date. You never go to any social events on campus, even the geeky ones, unless I force you to go with me.” She leaned in. “I think she was really trying to find out if you were a little . . .” She moved her hand like some bishop offering a blessing.

  “A little what?”

  “Gay, not that anyone could be a little. You either are or aren’t, I think. You know some of the girls thought that from the day you came to Collier. I told you they did.”

  I looked away. She had told me that, but I was sure there was a great deal she hadn’t told me.

  “Of course, I told Mrs. Hathaway no way, but she was concerned. Some other bigmouth told her mother that she thought you definitely were, and her mother called Mrs. Hathaway and gave her an earful, I guess.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I suspect Amanda Crowley. She’s in the next room. Maybe her mother thought she’d get infected or something through the wall.”

  “I don’t care,” I said. “I’m leaving here soon, and I don’t intend to see any of them again, especially Mrs. Hathaway.”

  “Yes, but about the favor . . .”

  “Christmas trees, Ellie!” I cried. It actually felt as if Cassie was now talking and not me. That was her favorite expression of frustration. “What is it, already?”

  “I think—in fact, I feel pretty confident—that if you’ve been invited to a social by a boy from one of the so-called approved high schools and you won’t go unless I go with you, I can get a pass on this probation. I’ll make it look like I’m doing you a favor, which will please Mrs. Hathaway, get it?”

  “But I haven’t been invited.”

  “Yes, you have,” Ellie said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small envelope.

  “What is that?”

  “Your invitation, silly. Take it,” she said, thrusting it at me.

  I took it, looked at her suspiciously, and then opened it and pulled out the card. It was an invitation from someone named Clark Kelly Morgan. I had no idea who that was, of course. I shook my head and looked up at her.

  “Why would someone I never met invite me, Ellie?”

  “Guess.” She waited a moment and then exclaimed, “He’s Ethan’s best friend. I told Ethan about you and what I thought might work and . . .” She turned her hand in the air. “So?”

  “But this is a college fraternity party again, and that’s off base, Ellie. We could both be expelled.”

  “I thought you didn’t care about school that much. I’ve stuck out my neck for you plenty of times, Semantha,” she whined. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it all figured out. I asked this boy at Pine View, that school that attended our last function, to pretend he’s asked you out. That’s what Mrs. Hathaway will hear, and if she checks up on it, he’ll say it’s true. Of course, I had to promise him I would really go out with him sometime soon, but I won’t. Well?”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “Look. I got the impression from Mrs. Hathaway that your father was concerned about you not having any social life,” Ellie said.

  “My father? I don’t think so. My uncle Perry, maybe, but not my father,” I said. “That wouldn’t be at the top of his agenda.” She had no idea why, of course, but she could see I knew she was exaggerating. “In any case, he certainly wouldn’t approve of me breaking a serious rule here.”

  “C’mon, Semantha, can’t you do me this little favor? Say you’ll accept the invitation. I’ll go speak with Mrs. Hathaway and work on her. You won’t even have to talk much with this boy if you don’t want to. Please. My God, don’t you ever want to do anything exciting?” she added with frustration.

  “Okay,” I said. It was the fastest way to get her to leave me alone.

  “Terrific. Leave it all to me.” She jumped up and rushed out.

  I couldn’t help being so reluctant and appearing so disinterested. Going to parties, dancing with boys, even simply talking to them now gave me goose bumps. On the other hand, I did want to do something exciting, but I was afraid I was about to make some terrible new mistake and somehow add more sad weight to the load my father carried on his shoulders.

  “Why did you agree to that?” I heard Cassie whisper. “If Daddy finds out . . .”

  Mrs. Hathaway would turn down Ellie’s request, I thought. Surely, she didn’t trust her. But less than an hour later, she returned with a smile across her face that could light up Times Square in New York. I didn’t have to ask how it went.

  “Start thinking about what you’ll wear,” she said.

  I felt my heart start to thump as if it were trying to break out. Forget about the violation of one of Hathaway’s cardinal rules. This would be the first date I’d had since I was in public school.

  “We’re both going to look really hot.” She went to her closet.

  I looked at the invitation again.

  Clark Kelly Morgan? He sounded as if he came from some aristocratic family. For the first time in a long time, I wondered what a boy might be like. Ellie saw me staring at the invitation.

  “He just happens to be quite good-looking,” she said.

  I looked up at her.

  “He’s supposedly a pro-quality tennis player, and, not that it matters to you, he comes from a well-to-do family. They’re probably not half as rich as yours but, according to Ethan, nothing to turn up your nose at.”

  “I’m not a snob, Ellie. I don’t care if his family is wealthy or not. Besides, I’m sure I won’t have much to do with him after this. I can’t carry on with a college boy and keep it forever from Hathaway.”

  “Maybe not,” she said, and then paused and smiled. “And then again, maybe you will like him so much you won’t care.”

  “No!” I heard Cassie cry inside me.

  I tilted my head and shook it as if I were trying to get water out of my ear.

  “What are you doing?” Ellie asked.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly, but I could see it in her face. Despite how well we got along, she was counting the days until we parted. I certainly couldn’t blame her. If I could part from myself, I wouldn’t hesitate. Of course, rejection of a Heaven-stone for any reason would infuriate my sister, Cassie. I didn’t have to imagine what her comment would be. She was there, eager to make it.

  “Don’t give it a second thought. Good riddance to her,” Cassie whispered. “Good riddance to them all. We don’t need anyone else but ourselves.”

  Ethan

  “WELL, THAT’S VERY nice, Semantha. I hope you have a good time,” Daddy said when I told him I had a date to a school party.

  Of course, I didn’t tell him it was a college party, but I didn’t doubt for one moment that Mrs. Hathaway had already called him to report my sudden interest in doing something social. Despite what I had told Ellie, I thought the news might please him, and that was more important than telling him the whole truth.

  “Thank you, Daddy.”

  “I have a little breaking news for you, too,” he said.

  “You d
o? What?”

  He laughed and then said he was going out on a real date himself.

  “You are?”

  “I feel like a teenager calling it a real date, but you know how it’s been, Semantha. So many people have been trying to fix me up with this woman or that woman. I’ve gone to functions and met women who were deliberately placed in my path, but it’s not been easy. Not a day goes by when I don’t miss your mother. I’ve tried to bury myself in my work. Your uncle Perry drives me crazy about it, but he’s not completely wrong. I am a young man yet, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, of course you are, Daddy.”

  “No one will ever replace your mother, but it’s very lonely here without her and you.”

  “I’m coming home soon, Daddy.”

  “Yes, I know, and we’ll talk about what you should do or want to do, but you have your own life to lead, Semantha. You don’t want an old guy like me weighing you down.”

  “You just said you were still young, Daddy.”

  “Young for my age, not for your age. Anyway . . .”

  “Who is the woman—your date, I mean? Have I ever met her?”

  “No. Her name is Lucille Bennet. She’s the daughter of Martin Spears, president of the Lexington Home Bank. Her husband passed away four years ago. Heart attack. They never had any children.”

  “How old is she?” I asked. Something in his voice told me I’d be surprised.

  “She’s just turned forty,” he said.

  She’s nearly twenty years younger than he is, I thought.

  “But,” he continued quickly, “you’d never know she was that young. I don’t mean she looks older. She’s quite young-looking and attractive, but she has the demeanor, personality, and wisdom of a woman at least twenty years older.”

  “How do you know if you haven’t been on a date with her?”

  It wasn’t like me to cross-examine my father about anything, ever. That was something Cassie had been good at doing and something he had tolerated her doing. There was no question in my mind that if Cassie were alive today, she would be at Lucille Bennet with a microscope. Maybe she had put the question in my mind. I was surprised at myself for asking.

  “Well, we have had occasion to see each other at events, and I did have lunch with her. Besides, I think you know how good a judge of character I am, Semantha,” he added with a trickle of annoyance. “I employ hundreds of people.”

  “Yes, Daddy, I do. I was just curious. I’m happy for you,” I said quickly.

  “Well, you let me know how your date goes and how things are, will you? Your uncle keeps threatening to pay you a visit, but I told him to let you be. You don’t have all that much longer to go, and we’ll be there for graduation. Am I right?”

  I wanted to say no, to say he should please come with Uncle Perry immediately, but I just said yes.

  “Good. Well, otherwise, things are going well at the stores and here at Heaven-stone. I’m very happy I hired Mrs. Dobson to run the house. She continues to do a fine job of it. She’s reliable and efficient.”

  During the first year I attended Collier, Daddy had decided to find someone who could not only prepare his meals but also oversee the care of the mansion. He had taken the recommendation of a business associate in London and hired Patsy Dobson, a fifty-five-year-old widow who had been working in what she called “posh homes.” She had been between jobs and was excited about living and working in America. Daddy had made all the arrangements to get her over, and although she was nowhere near the gourmet cook my mother or Cassie had been, she was, in Daddy’s words, “quite capable of feeding a team of hungry lumberjacks.”

  Mrs. Dobson took firm control of the house and had gone through four different maids and maid services before settling on Doris Cross, a forty-five-year-old divorced mother of two sons who had married and lived far away, one in Texas and one in Oregon. Mrs. Dobson said Doris had the proper respect for antiquities and, like her, believed that dust was a sign of disrespect. I had to admit the house and everything in it had never looked better under Mother’s and Cassie’s care. I knew Daddy believed that, too, even though he never said it in so many words.

  “I’m glad, Daddy. She is very nice,” I said.

  I did like Mrs. Dobson. She was always pleasant to me whenever I was home for holidays and over the summer. Often, she was even quite funny, especially when she used some of her English expressions. She knew our family’s tragic history the way I had explained it to Ellie and nothing more. If she ever overheard anything, however, I was confident she would make herself forget it. Sometimes I felt she was treating us like British royals. She was continually after me to smile more and always called me Miss Semantha. Even Doris Cross had started calling me that.

  “You okay, Semantha? You sound a bit down. You’re not doing too much, are you?”

  “I’m fine, Daddy. Maybe I’m just a little homesick.”

  “Well, it’s not long now. Take care, and call if you need anything,” he said. “I’ve got to rush off to a meeting.”

  “ ’Bye, Daddy,” I said. Although he hung up, I held the receiver. I would have sworn I heard Cassie talking, as if she had picked up one of the phones at Heaven-stone and had been listening all the while.

  “She has the wisdom of a woman twenty years older? He knows how to judge character? Don’t believe it. Well, we’re going home not a day too soon. Lucille Bennet . . . twenty years younger than he is. He’ll make a fool of himself. Daddy always needed to be looked after. He’s brilliant when it comes to business, but when it comes to his personal life . . .”

  “Why are you holding the phone like that?” Ellie asked, snapping me back to the moment. I hadn’t heard her open the door to our room and had no idea how long she had been standing there watching me.

  “Oh. I just finished talking to my father.”

  I hung up the receiver.

  “You didn’t say a word for the longest time. Were you talking to yourself?” she asked, and closed the door.

  I started to come up with an answer, but she waved at me to ignore her question. She was carrying two big bags. “I have something for you for tomorrow night,” she said, rushing over to slap the bags onto the bed. She reached into one. “This is your size.”

  She pulled out a slinky, deep-V-neck black satin dress and held it up against me.

  “Yes, this is terrific for you. I looked through your wardrobe. You have nothing as sexy as this. Naturally, you’ll need this black clutch to go with it.” She reached into the same bag to show it to me. Then she went to the second bag. “You don’t have a pair of these, but they’ll look terrific with the dress.” She opened a shoebox and held up a pair of red peep-toe pumps. “Come on. Start trying it on,” she said, tossing the dress at me. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She reached into the second bag again and took out a pair of chandelier earrings. “I just thought these would look darling on you.”

  “How much was all this?”

  “Not much,” she said.

  I saw there were still tags on everything. “Ellie, you didn’t . . .”

  “What?”

  “Shoplift again?”

  “Just try everything on and stop worrying, Semantha. At least have one great night before graduation without analyzing it to death, will you?”

  She went into the bathroom. I looked at the dress and the shoes and felt a little excitement. Maybe Ellie was right. Maybe I needed to loosen up and try to enjoy myself for a change. Daddy was doing that, wasn’t he? I slipped on the dress. The shoes fit perfectly. Then I opened the closet that had a full-length mirror and gazed at myself.

  “Well, that doesn’t leave much to the imagination,” Cassie whispered.

  “Hot, hot, hot!” Ellie cried. “Put on the earrings, too, and let’s do something different with your hair and makeup, Semantha. You look too dowdy these days.”

  Did she really want me to have a good time, or had she made promises about me that she wanted to fulfill? There’s a Cassie question, I thoug
ht, but I let her go on to show me how she thought I should wear my hair and do my makeup. The Semantha Heaven-stone I saw in the mirror the next evening looked like a totally new person, who was arguably brighter, far sexier, and, dare I think it, even happy about herself.

  My legs were actually trembling when we were called down to the lobby to greet our dates. I didn’t realize I was walking with my head down, my eyes on the floor to hide my nervousness. Ellie nudged me, and I looked up to see our dates waiting. I wasn’t sure which one was Ethan. One of them was about six foot one or two, with a slim build and light brown hair trimmed in a traditional style, the way my father and his business associates wore their hair. The other young man was short and stocky, with longer dark brown hair not that neatly kept. It was over his ear on the right but not on the left. He had harder facial features and a cleft chin.

  “Hi, Ethan,” Ellie said to the taller one. I felt a glob of disappointment settle in the base of my throat. Ethan’s eyes shifted quickly toward me, and I looked down again.

  “Hey, Ellie. This is Kelly Morgan,” he said.

  Why did he have to introduce his best friend to her? She had talked about Kelly as though she had met him.

  “Kelly, this is my roommate, Semantha.”

  “Yeah, hey,” he said. “You look terrific.”

  I smiled a thank-you, but I couldn’t keep my eyes from drifting back to Ethan, who wore a small smile that tucked in the corners of his lips slightly. The softness of it touched me. I once read a romance novel—one of the books Cassie had mocked, in fact—in which the main character said she fell in love with her boyfriend first through his small gestures, the movements in his face, the way he tilted his head just slightly when he looked at her, and the way the tips of his fingers moved ever so gently over her arm and into her hand. She said she knew she was in love with him the moment she saw him and claimed she discovered what was meant by falling in love at first sight.