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The Heavenstone Secrets, by V.C. Andrews
Fee Download The Heavenstone Secrets, by V.C. Andrews
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SECRETS ARE AT HOME HERE . . .
The Heavenstone sisters live with their mother and father in a grand old mansion in bluegrass Kentucky. Semantha, the younger and prettier one, is afraid of so many things— darkness, strange noises, mysterious whispers in the night. But nothing frightens her more than her sister, Cassie. She is older and wiser, and always telling Semantha what to do, what to wear, and how to behave around those wicked boys at school. Semantha has her eye on one special guy—but Cassie has other plans for her. In the Heavenstone house, big sister knows best.
. . . AND THERE’S NO ESCAPE.
When tragedy strikes like a lightning bolt from heaven, Semantha’s life becomes a living hell. Under Cassie’s constant, watchful eye, she feels like a prisoner—a helpless pawn in her sister’s cruel game. When Cassie begins wearing their mother’s clothes and vying for their father’s affections, Semantha realizes she must bring their twisted sibling rivalry to an end . . . before a new generation is born.
- Sales Rank: #798651 in Books
- Published on: 2009
- Released on: 2009-12-29
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 6.75" h x 1.10" w x 4.19" l,
- Binding: Mass Market Paperback
- 464 pages
About the Author
One of the most popular authors of all time, V.C. Andrews has been a bestselling phenomenon since the publication of Flowers in the Attic, first in the renowned Dollanganger family series which includes Petals on the Wind, If There Be Thorns, Seeds of Yesterday, and Garden of Shadows. The family saga continues with Christopher’s Diary: Secrets of Foxworth, Christopher’s Diary: Echoes of Dollanganger, and Secret Brother. V.C. Andrews has written more than seventy novels, which have sold more than 106 million copies worldwide and been translated into twenty-five foreign languages.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
1
An Announcement
When I was just fourteen years old, my world began to sink in and collapse like a punctured balloon. Whatever happiness I enjoyed slowly leaked out and disappeared. It took me a while to notice and realize it. I was just like someone who, gazing at his car one day, saw that he had a flat tire. When did that begin to happen? he might wonder. I knew when it had begun to happen for me.
One night at dinner a week after my birthday, Daddy put down his knife and fork, folded his hands, and cleared his throat. Cassie and I believed that whatever he was about to say had nothing whatsoever to do with his business or his finances. There was a rule at our table that none of that would be discussed at dinner. And that was true even if Daddy had something wonderful about the business to announce to us, such as a large increase in the profits of one of our stores or our stores beating out the famous chain stores nearby. Whatever the good business news was, he wouldn't say a word about it until after dinner or maybe not until breakfast the following day. For some reason, breakfast was not as sacred a meal as dinner. Of course, dinner was more elegant, with our expensive china and silverware, linen napkins, and the imported tablecloth that Mother had bought on one of their European trips.
My responsibility was to set the table, light the candles in the gold candle holders, and after dinner put everything away or in the dishwasher and washing machine. Cassie helped Mother prepare the food, and I helped both of them serve it. Mother was an excellent cook, always coming up with new and interesting recipes, and Cassie was a quick study. She could replicate almost anything Mother had made a day after she had made it. Twice when Mother was sick with the flu, Cassie "leaped to the helm," as Daddy would say, and created dinners that were as wonderful as what Mother made. Even I had to admit it, although Cassie was far more interested in Daddy's opinion.
At the beginning of dinner, we were to lower our heads while Daddy recited a prayer, but Cassie never lowered her head. I knew both of my parents were aware of it, just as they were in church, but neither forced her to do it. It suggested to me that maybe they were as afraid of her as I was, which, of course, made no sense. How could parents be afraid of their own daughter?
"Your mother and I have an announcement to make," Daddy began this particular evening, and then he stroked his perfectly trimmed and groomed rust-brown goatee. It was a gesture that was always followed by a very serious pronouncement. Another sign was the way his emerald-green eyes brightened. At forty-eight, he was by anyone's measure still a very handsome man, with a perfectly proportioned straight nose and firm lips. He kept his hair a little longer than most businessmen his age, but it was always trim and neatly brushed. Even though he didn't work outdoors, he had a robust complexion, and because he was six feet two inches tall with wide shoulders, he looked fit and strong. Mother always said that when he was wearing jeans and a short-sleeved shirt instead of his suit, he looked like a lumberjack.
His father had named him Teddy after Teddy Roosevelt and, according to family history, made sure he understood that he had to be as courageous, as loyal to the truth and to what was right, and as strong in body and mind. He was fond of telling Daddy, "Charge up that hill! And no matter what, never surrender!"
Daddy's pausing made what he was about to tell us even more important. I held my breath and glanced at Cassie, who sat with a smirk on her lips. She looked as if she knew what he was about to say and already did not approve.
"Your mother," Daddy continued, reaching to his right to take her hand, "is pregnant."
I know my mouth widened with surprise, and I was sure my eyes swelled, but Cassie's smirk only grew deeper. She leaned slightly forward, folding her hands on the table the way Daddy folded his before a serious pronouncement.
"Is that wise at your age, Mother?" she asked very calmly. "You're forty-two."
"Women in their forties are having children. Your mother is in perfect health, Cassie, and Dr. Moffet is very optimistic about her having a healthy and successful pregnancy," Daddy replied before Mother could.
"Of course, Dr. Moffet would say that. We're good customers."
Daddy sat back, displeased with her, which was very unusual to see.
"Doctors don't have customers, Cassie. They have patients, and a good doctor is not motivated by profit the way a businessman should be."
"Then there are no good doctors," Cassie said.
Cassie never backed down from what she said or believed. When she was very little and she was reprimanded or forbidden to do something, she would hold her breath until her face reddened so that Mother would relent or to get Daddy to compromise. She once went two days without eating a morsel because she was in a sulk.
"I was hoping you girls would be as happy about this as we are," Mother said, battling back the disappointment I could see she felt.
"I am," I said, perhaps too quickly.
Cassie glared at me for a moment and then formed her smile mask. "Of course, we're happy, but naturally, we're worried, too, Mother."
"Don't be," Mother said firmly. "I'll be fine. It will all be fine."
"We hope so," Cassie said, but the way she said it made it clear that she was full of skepticism. She always managed to speak for me, saying "we" whenever she was going to offer an opinion about something that could have an effect on us both.
"In any case," Daddy continued, "I would like both of you to take this into consideration and do whatever you can to make things easier for your mother during the next seven months. I know you both already do quite a lot, but..."
"Then you are already two months pregnant?" Cassie asked quickly.
"Yes, Cassie, I am."
"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" she followed sharply, her eyes narrowing. "There are so many ways to confirm a pregnancy earlier."
I suddenly felt as if the table had been spun around, and Cassie was the mother and Mother was the daughter. When Mother didn't answer, Cassie continued, "Why didn't you let us know you were both thinking of having another child?"
Mother looked at Daddy. They both seemed flustered.
"We weren't...it wasn't something we were sure we...what difference does that make?" Daddy shouted. "We're telling you how things are now."
"Obviously," Cassie replied. "But why didn't you decide to do this years ago?"
"The truth is, Cassie, I've been trying to get pregnant for some time now. I've been to see fertility doctors and specialists, and finally, something has worked," Mother told her softly. She smiled. "With the two of you young adult women now, things will actually be much easier. You can help me take good care of the new baby, be like two little nannies. When you're able and free, of course," she added.
"Why shouldn't we be able and free?" Cassie retorted.
"Oh, you both will have your own busy lives, I'm sure. Actually, I'm not worried about it. It's a good time for me. I look forward to it," Mother added. She smiled at Daddy and took his hand again. "Of course, we're hoping...we'll soon know whether or not...if..."
"If it's a boy," Daddy said, smiling. He turned to Mother, and they looked at each other as if they were alone and both twenty years younger.
"We've already decided we will name him Asa. Nothing would please your father more," she told us.
They continued to look at each other with such love and gratitude that it brought tears to my eyes. I glanced at Cassie. She looked as if she would set the house on fire. She jerked her eyes toward me and I looked down quickly. Later, she told me our parents had no idea what they were getting themselves into, what they were getting us all into.
"I don't understand," I said. "Why do you say that?"
"This world we're in will be turned topsy-turvy," she said, "so get ready to stand on your head."
Then she marched off to her room and shut the door.
Which reminded me of Cassie's Third Commandment: Don't ever do anything to make her unhappy.
However, Cassie wasn't wrong. No matter what I thought about her and what I think about her now, she really wasn't wrong very often. Our house and our lives did start to change, but I didn't think they went topsy-turvy. On the contrary, to me, it was as if a brand-new sunlight was streaming in through our windows, lighting up the dullest corners, brightening colors, and making furniture and artifacts sparkle. I think Mother thought that, too, because she went about the grand house as if she were seeing it for the first time. During the next two months, she changed the arrangement of some furniture and worked harder at polishing and vacuuming and having Cassie and me polish and vacuum. She had window cleaners and rug cleaners, painters doing touch-ups. She bought new lamps and even some new kitchen appliances, and took more interest in our landscaping.
"Why is all of this suddenly so important? She acts as if the new Messiah is coming," Cassie muttered.
I nodded, not because I, too, saw it as being over the top but because I saw it as wonderful. Cassie looked at my face and added, "She's being ridiculous, behaving like some newlywed. If all of these things had to be done, why weren't they done for us as well?"
"Maybe they were," I dared to suggest. She pursed her lips and pulled back her head. "I mean, right before you were born and then right before I was."
"Nothing was changed then, Semantha. Daddy used to think this house was as sacred as a church. You know how he feels about our family's history. Most of it is exactly as it has been for nearly eighty years. No new bride, no matter how she was supposedly loved, would dare interfere with that. We are the Heavenstones!" she declared, as if that explained everything.
"Oh," I said.
Of course, I thought then, Why is Daddy permitting her to do all of this now? But I didn't dare ask. I didn't have to ask. Cassie was prepared to give me an explanation.
"Men," she continued in one of her loud whi...
Most helpful customer reviews
37 of 40 people found the following review helpful.
So far removed from VC Andrews it's not funny
By M
Sigh. Where do I start? The cardboard characters? The simplistic yet contrived family secrets and insanity, the predictable sibling rivalry, or the yawn-inspiring revelations? Let's not forget the recycled TITLES (April Shadows/Girl in the Shadows ---> Secrets in the Attic/Secrets in the Shadows ---> Heavenstone Secrets/Secret Whispers) This particular book is even more disappointing after you read the synopsis for its sequel (which can be accessed at the 'Complete VCA' site - a truly fine and wonderful site. Despite my feelings for Andrew Neiderman himself, I certainly don't hold it against the site)
Andrew Neiderman isn't even trying anymore. He writes his own novels and usually releases at least one a year (not including these "VCA" books) and I don't feel any passion in these books. When VCA died over 20 years ago, Neiderman did a good job of finishing the books she was unable to finish. He deserves kudos for that. And even though some people didn't like the Cutler series, I enjoyed it, and am happy he wrote the Dawn books. Landry and Logan series weren't as good, but still enjoyable.
Then he did the Orphans miniseries... and the VCA collection was never the same again. Longtime fans of VCA - myself included - have watched in dismay and disgust as disappointing after increasingly disappointing series are given VCA's good name. If Neiderman wants to keep writing these books - though if he apparently doesn't care to try anymore, why even bother? - then at least give VCA her dignity back and write these tween books under HIS own name. The brilliant mind who penned the Flowers in the Attic series as well as the Heaven series does NOT deserve to have her name on this embarrassingly poor book.
If Neiderman does derive some sort of enjoyment of writing these books, then it's better that he write them under his own name. These books don't have any of the old VCA feel to them, even. These stories resemble nothing of Flowers in the Attic or Heaven, or Audrina, and people who start with a new VCA book (not knowing of the real VCA books) have commented on how surprised they are at this bad writing.
For goodness' sake, Mr. Neiderman. This has gone on long enough! How many books did VCA write? 11! How many years? Not even a decade! How many books did YOU write? About 50! How long? Almost 25 now! The horse has been long dead, time to bury it, flogging just makes the problem worse. VCA didn't do ANYTHING to deserve her name being abused like this.
She spun out fine villains like Malcolm and Olivia Foxworth, Damian and Vera Adare, Tony Tatterton and Luke Casteel along with Kitty Setterton/Dennison. Let's not forget Clara Sue and Philip Cutler, and Grandmother Cutler and Pa and Emily Booth... I'm surprised that since Neiderman made such good villains in the Cutler series, he's making crappy, one-dimensional villains now.
VCA's (the real VCA, of course) made her series about not just families, but GENERATIONS. In Seeds of Yesterday, Malcolm and Olivia Foxworth have been long dead, but their hate and their deeds still leak down to the younger generations... Leigh, Heaven, and Annie were all tormented and lusted after by Tony, Emily tortures Lillian and then her granddaughter... you get the idea. There's none of that family secrets/generational thing here (and hasn't been for a long time, actually. Rain and Willow were both half-@$$ed on family secrets and very sparse, and after that, no more as Neiderman started writing shorter series.
One thing I miss a lot is the keyhole and stepback images. That was briefly restored (for the Attic Secrets series) and then dropped again. I loved the stepbacks because of the family/character picture groups. It was fun to try to identify them and see who was who (or wonder at the inaccuracies, like the one in Garden of Shadows). Some might think that covers are trite compared to the book itself, but these stepback images/family pictures were classic. And now what do we have? Cassie (at least I think so, because of the facial expression on the girl, even though Semantha's the main character of this book)
Why has the formula been changed? Cassie? Semantha? SEMANTHA??? We had Heaven, Dawn, Ruby, Melody, Rain, Willow... and then all of a sudden it stopped. And now we have stupid, horribly misspelled names like Semantha.
And as a final insult to VCA... you know what the cover of this book says? (Yes, I have seen/held the book myself) It says... 'From the creator of Flowers in the Attic'. I almost did a double-take, just to make sure that I had read the statement correctly. How insulting to Ms. Andrews herself!
Yes, seriously. That's what the book cover says, and if you also click on the book here on its page to enlarge it, you can see for yourself! Hello, publishers? Are you paying attention? Andrew Neiderman is NOT V.C. Andrews!
8 of 8 people found the following review helpful.
Another stamp on my "don't BUY IT" thoughts about new VCA
By S. A. Smestad
I really wanted to like this one... I tried to give it a shot. But UGH! I mean really - It was so forced. The whole premise of how poor Semantha has everything happening because she won't stand up for herself. The Dad and Mom were completly controlled by their children namely Cassie and for what? Nothing turned out well. I am not interested in the new book at all. I have no desire to find out what will happen to Semantha .. maybe I would read it if it was about Anna. But no - no desire to see further of Sementha's lack of identity.
7 of 7 people found the following review helpful.
Lacking an intelligent character
By Solace Winter
This novel only works because the main character, despite being a fourteen-year-old girl in a public school in modern times, is the most naive fourteen-year-old ever. And unfortunately that also makes the book nearly unbearable.
Semantha (yes, spelled that way) is so oblivious to very obvious things that I found myself putting the book down for days without wanting to read it. What's sad is at the beginning of the novel I thought, "This is the V. C. Andrews story-telling I remember." It did not take me long to eat my words. I do not remember the books being so horribly predictable before. And the lies Cassie is able to tell with no one figuring it out is astounding.
I wish V. C. Andrews would go back to the days of Flowers in the Attic, Dawn, or Ruby, or even Heaven. Not this drivel.
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