Corner of the Housetop: Buried Secrets (10 page)

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Devon looked around the stables, his eyes stopping on Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth for a second, then on Blueberry. "Got some stuff needs polishing." He thought for a second. "But you can' do that 'til I git back."

Hope lit in Derek's chest.

After a few long seconds, Devon nodded to himself a little, licking his upper lip thoughtfully. "You can go, but you'll make up for it Monday," he told him warningly.

Grinning, Derek said, "All right."

"Finish eatin' an' git them brushed down," he ordered, going back to his checklist.

Uncovering his basket, Derek discovered several honey cakes, a small jar of strawberry jelly, and a few pieces of cold chicken wrapped in white butcher's paper. Biting into the chicken, he watched Devon. "Who taught you to read and write?" he asked around his mouthful.

"Master Worthington."

"Jonathan?"

"No."

Lapsing back into silence, Derek poured some of the jelly on one of his cakes. It was odd to hear someone mention Mr. Worthington. Because she didn't believe in talking about people who were dead, Mrs. Worthington never said anything about her late husband and neither did anyone else. All Derek knew of him was what he could remember from a five-year old's mind.

Jeremiah Worthington, who went by "Jeremy" among his close friends, was a tall man with dark brown hair and slate-blue eyes. He was broad-shouldered with large, muscular arms and angular features. He stood out very much from his blond-haired, light-eyed family.

Another thing that made him stand out was his good-natured smile and even temper. He was always fair, even when judging between his own sons and Derek. It was Mr. Worthington's soothing voice that would comfort him after being punished by Mrs. Worthington. On several occasions he'd even stood up to his wife in the boy's defense.

One instance of Mr. Worthington's heroism that stood out in Derek's mind was in the summer after he turned four. It was at age four that children started going to Mr. Millstone's Sunday class instead of sitting with their parents in general congregation. Since it was his first day there, Mr. Millstone seemed to think he needed to make sure Derek knew exactly who was in charge of the class. Over the two hours he sat there, he'd been hit half a dozen times for things like swinging his feet and not turning to the right page in his Bible quickly enough. Most of the children didn't even have Bibles of their own, let alone carry them to church every Sunday.

That night, when Beth was bathing him and Gabriel, she found the bruises on his shoulders. When she mentioned it to Mrs. Worthington, Mr. Worthington over heard. Derek remembered sitting in the bathtub, wondering why Beth seemed so alarmed. When she returned with Mr. Worthington close behind her, he couldn't imagine what could be wrong.

"What happened in class today, Derek?" he'd asked in a kind, deep voice.

Figuring he was going to get in trouble again, he'd remained silent, staring down at his hands. It was Gabriel who spoke up and repeated the nasty comments Mr. Millstone had made to him.

Mr. Worthington, Derek would find, was a man who believed in firm discipline, but not without cause. Physical reprimand from him only came after a stern warning and a second chance.

Far from punishing Derek, he had Beth put him to bed with a soft, clean pillow and a cool, damp cloth across his shoulders. The next weekend Mr. Millstone hadn't bothered him at all. In fact, he'd put Derek in a seat at the back corner of the room and didn't look at him once through the entire class.

Whatever Mr. Worthington had said to him seemed to do the trick for a while. Sundays were much more bearable until his death.

Shortly after the funeral Mrs. Worthington had gone to Mr. Millstone with expressions of sympathy for his plight of teaching "the boy." When she expressed her approval of the use of any necessary means to "bring him to the fold of God," Mr. Millstone had readily assured her that Derek's soul was safe in his hands. The next few years felt very, very long.

Thinking back on Mr. Worthington, Derek remembered always feeling the man was on the verge of saying something, but he just couldn't bring himself to it. It was this quality that made Derek think if Mr. Worthington was alive maybe he would know more about his parents. Their names, at the very least.

I bet he would have let me go to school, too,
Derek thought, still watching Devon. "Was it hard to learn?"

"Not really, but it's hard to do with someone jabberin' in your ear."

He started to apologize, but stopped himself.

When he finished his cakes, Derek got out the brush and went to Blueberry's stall. "Hi there, Blue. Ready to go to town?" Leaning over the divider, he hooked the lead to Blueberry's bridle then opened the gate and led him out. He tied him to the post by the empty stalls and started brushing him.

"I'm gon' git us some lunch, then I'll be back."

"All right."

Devon walked out of the stables, shuffling along briskly. He had the rushed, jerky movements of someone who couldn't move fast, but who tried to very hard.

"It must be hard, doing work like this your whole life," Derek said, brushing down the horse's neck. "I wonder how old he is. A lot older than me, that's for sure."

"Derek?"

Looking up sharply, he turned an instinctive glare at Gabriel's voice. "What?"

Walking a few steps into the shade, Gabriel had a concerned look in his eyes. "Catherine asked me to come down and see if you were all right. She gave Jonathan a right talking to when he got back up to the house."

"What, did everyone know I was in trouble?" he snapped.

"Mother was sort of loud when she yelled at you yesterday. We all just figured. Then Jonathan disappeared down here with the whip this morning." His voice trailed off. "Catherine was really mad," he repeated.

A little surprised at the concern, Derek felt his anger ebb. As much as he liked the thought that Catherine was angry with Jonathan, he couldn't help thinking that it was unfair to worry her. But if Mrs. Worthington ever found out he didn't really get punished, she'd be livid.

"I'm fine," was all he said.

Gabriel nodded.

A heavy silence fell between them.

It was Gabriel who broke it. Smiling at the horse, he stepped forward to pet him. "Hi, Blueberry. It's been a little while since I've seen you."

Blueberry shook his head, nudging the boy in the side with his nose.

Smiling a little, Derek said, "He thinks you've got a snack for him in your pocket. I used to bring him carrots all the time." Brushing down his side, he said, "Can't anymore."

"I can bring you down some sugar cubes for him later."

Almost as if she understood that Blueberry was going to get a treat and she wasn't, Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth kicked the wall, snorting loudly.

Gabriel jumped, looking at her. After a second he laughed. "You're still alive?"

"Unfortunately," Derek said with a laugh. "You wanna brush her?"

After a hesitant moment, Gabriel said, "I'll brush him."

Handing over the brush gladly, Derek went to get the other lead. As much as he was hoping to not have to deal with the stubborn mare he was grateful for anything that would make his work go faster. The sooner he finished, the sooner he and Devon would be on their way to town.

If Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth didn't like Derek, it was nothing to how she felt about Gabriel. When Derek tied her to the post near him and Blueberry, she snorted and scuffed her hooves on the floor, shaking her head and pulling against the lead, trying to get back in her stall.

"What did you do to her?" Derek asked, trying to soothe her.

"She's never liked me. I think she's jealous that I get more of Mother's attention than she does."

"It wouldn't surprise me." When she settled down, content to shoot glares at the boy, her ears back, her teeth bared, Derek brushed her quickly. "Maybe if you gave her a sugar cube she'd forgive you," he suggested with a smirk.

Gabriel laughed.

From the time they were young, Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth had been a noisy addition to their lives that both boys felt they would rather do without.

"I don't know why Mother keeps her. She never rides anymore and it's not like Lady does anything useful." As he spoke, he brushed Blueberry's back. "I think she'd do better at a glue factory, myself."

They both looked at her for a second then laughed.

It was times like these that Derek really hated Anthony Clayton and Marcus Baxter. It was Gabriel's friendship with those two that ended his relationship with Derek. Without their influence, the two could have still been just as close as they were as children. He was sure it had to be some sort of socialite poison that Anthony was spooning into Gabriel's impressionable mind that ruined him.

Suddenly, Devon shuffled into the stable. "You done, boy?"

"Yes, sir. I just have to put her back and Blue'll be ready to go."

"Where are you going?"

"Into town. We need to pick up a few things at the store." The envy on Gabriel's face was almost as satisfying as the fact that he was allowed to go in the first place.

"Too bad I couldn't go."

"Why not? Devon won't mind, will you?"

Grunting, Devon untied Blueberry and led him out of the stable. "I'll met you over there when you're done pickin' up here," he called back, disappearing around the front of the building.

"Yes, sir."

"Wish I could go," Gabriel said longingly. "But Aniline and Mrs. Clayton are coming over for tea today."

"That's nice," Derek said flatly.

"Aniline's nice," the other boy defended feebly.

"Yeah, if you like people like your mother. If I were you, I'd just bring a random string of girls home and marry the first one she didn't like. That's the surest way of getting a good wife."

Despite himself, Gabriel chuckled a little. "Well, I should go back to the house."

Derek nodded, still smiling. "Yeah. Make sure to tell Catherine I'm fine."

"I will. She'll be glad to hear it."

After Gabriel left, Derek cleaned up the brushes and double-checked the latch on Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth's stall gate. Climbing the ladder to his loft as quickly as he could, Derek opened his chest and dug through for the few coins he'd been saving. He didn't think he'd get a better chance to spend them.

"See you later, old lady," he said as he pulled the door closed on his way out.

Walking over the hill, Derek crossed the front yard towards the carriage house where Devon was waiting with Blueberry hitched to the wagon. As he went, he noticed Catherine sitting on the porch. Atty was close beside her, fanning her lightly.

Feeling a surge of bravery at knowing she'd been angry on his behalf, he smiled, tipping his hat to her. "'Afternoon, Miss Catherine," he said.

Smiling back, Catherine said, "'Afternoon, Derek."

She still looked sickly pale and there were dark circles under her puffy eyes, but somehow she was beautiful again.