“Oh, good,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more like you.”
“Exactly,” she told me.
Neither Daddy nor Mother was home when we arrived from school. Despite what I had said to Cassie, I was on pins and needles waiting for them to return from the doctor. It was getting very late, too. Cassie was downstairs preparing dinner, in fact, and I was getting ready to join her and set the table. Where could they be?
The moment I heard them come into the house, I charged out of my room to the stairway and came to an abrupt stop.
Daddy was alone. One look at his face told everything.
“Where’s Mother? What happened?” I asked as I rushed down the stairway.
“She was terribly anemic. Dr. Moffet is puzzled, so he’s put her in the hospital for evaluation.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure yet, Semantha.” He pressed a smile onto his face, which was obviously reluctant to take it. “She’ll be all right. They’ll get to the bottom of it quickly.”
We both heard some clatter in the kitchen. He smiled.
“Cassie’s preparing our dinner, huh? I was thinking of taking you both out, but if she’s already made something …”
“I prepared one of your favorite meals, Daddy, veal marsala and couscous,” Cassie said from the kitchen doorway.
If she heard that, she surely heard what was said about Mother, I thought, and waited for her to ask questions, too, but she didn’t. She came out, wiping her hands with a dish towel.
“I imagine you’ve had a very trying time. You should go up and take a hot shower and get comfortable. You can tell us about it all at dinner. Go on,” she ordered, the way Mother would.
He smiled.
“I guess you’re right, angel.” He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek and then started up the stairs, walking slowly. He seemed truly exhausted.
When I glanced at Cassie, I saw she was close to tears. I couldn’t remember when I had last seen her this way.
“Cassie?”
“Poor Daddy,” she said. “All this burden on his shoulders.” She turned quickly and went back to the kitchen.
“Poor Daddy? But what about Mother?” I called after her. She didn’t stop. “What about going to see her?” I asked, but by then, I was asking myself.
At dinner, Cassie was anything but depressed or worried about Mother. Whenever I said or asked anything about her, Cassie gave me a look of reprimand. When we were together for a moment in the kitchen, she whispered, “Can’t you see how he’s tottering on the brink of a breakdown? Try to distract him, get him to think of other things, Semantha. Stop asking and talking about Mother!”
“But …”
“No buts, Semantha. Christmas trees, you’re getting to be more of a burden than Mother,” she added.
Stunned, I stood there looking at her. How was I more of a burden, and how could she refer to Mother as a burden, anyway?
She sighed deeply. “Just go back in there and talk about something pleasant. Ask him about the upcoming gala. Talk about Uncle Perry, if you want, but just don’t harp on Mother right now. Go on. I’ll be right there.”
I returned to the dining room, but I was very nervous. Surely, I couldn’t hide my feelings and fears from Daddy. Somehow, however, he didn’t appear to notice. Despite what I said, he still talked about Mother.
“I’ll be going up there right after dinner,” he told me.
“Shouldn’t we go with you, Daddy?”
“No. You two just take care of your schoolwork. I won’t be that long. She has to rest. I just don’t understand …” he said, shaking his head.
Just then, Cassie came from the kitchen with a surprise. Even I didn’t know she had baked Daddy’s favorite cake, a chocolate angel-food cake dripping with strawberry syrup. I remembered when Mother had taught her how to make it. A big smile traveled from Daddy’s lips to his eyes.