Corner of the Housetop: Buried Secrets (22 page)

Catherine looked questioningly over her shoulder at Derek and stopped for a moment, but was pushed along by the old woman's firm grip before she could restate her question.

Poor girl. She should have stayed in bed,
Derek thought, going down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Oh, thank goodness it's you," Beth said. She was holding a frying pan. "I thought it was her, back again."

"Evil is never fully dispelled," he replied darkly. "That's the first thing they teach you in church."

"I'm serious. I almost threw this at you. On accident, of course."

Smirking, Derek sauntered into the room. "Of course. Where's Atty?"

"Sick. Couldn't even get out of bed, the poor thing."

"This is too much work for just the two of you. You'll both be sick from exhaustion." Derek walked over to the cupboard and took out the large tray.

"You're down here to help?"

"Yeah. I sort of stuck myself here, but that's all right. And do you know why it's all right?"

Putting her hands on her hips, Beth studied him for a second. "Hmm. I heard you talking to Missus Worthington. Why would talking to her put you in the mood to grin like that? I can't think of a thing. Why?"

Grinning even more, he said, "I don't have to go to church. There won't be enough room in the carriage."

"That would explain it." She handed him several plates. "Here."

Setting toast and jam on the tray, Derek went around to the other side of the table and sat down. "Catherine looks better today," he said conversationally, spreading strawberry jam on a slice of bread.

"Does she? That's good."

Biting into his toast, he raised his eyebrows when Beth glared at him over her shoulder.

"Those are for the family."

"Bartholomew doesn't need two pieces. Have you seen how fat he is?"

"Derek."

"Sorry." Swallowing the last of his toast, Derek stood up and started putting bowls on the tray. A plate of biscuits and then a tureen of gravy. Some bacon. And, of course, some apple juice and a pitcher of milk.

"Bring that up."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, still grinning.

"And drop that smart attitude. Mrs. Worthington won't like you smiling around the dining room like that."

Laughing at her stern expression, Derek walked quickly up the stairs. He felt comfortable being back in his usual place; going up and down the narrow, stone, kitchen stairs with an armload of food and dishes was as natural to him as breathing.

"Good morning, Mrs. Worthington," he said, setting a plate of toast and a bowl in front of her.

She smiled at him, looking oddly kind. There was no doubt in his mind that her good attitude came from the several guests seated around the table.

"Hi, Derek!" Abigail yelled.

"We're inside, darling," Mrs. Smithfield said calmly.

In no softer a voice, the little girl said, "All right."

"'Morning, Abigail," Derek answered with a smile, setting her breakfast in front of her.

When all the dishes were set out and the food was on the table, Derek returned to the kitchen. "Now am I allowed to eat?"

"There's more gravy in the pot." Beth handed him a plate with two biscuits and a couple strips of bacon.

Pouring gravy over his plate, he asked, "So what do you do on Sunday when there's no one to yell at you and make sure you're doing your chores?"

"Normally we do our chores. Since Missus Worthington Master Worthington's wife, Missus Worthington, not
Missus
Worthington has been here, we have a small Sunday service of our own. She reads out of her Bible and we talk about what it says. Usually it's just Atty and me who sit with her, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you wanted to join us. Or would that ruin your good, 'no church' mood?"

The thought of spending a whole morning with Catherine just made the day even better. Smiling, Derek said, "Sure. It sounds like fun. I'm mainly happy because I don't have to put up with Anthony again."

When he finished eating, Derek packed some of the leftover food into a basket for Devon. "I'm going to run this up to Devon, then I'll be back to help clear the dishes."

"All right."

Taking the basket and nearly skipping up the stairs, he walked out through the door just as the first few raindrops of a morning shower started falling. His gratitude at staying home multiplied yet again. There would never be a better day. No matter how good his life got, no day could possibly outdo this one.

The next hour was filled with cleaning and the sound of people bustling around upstairs, getting ready to leave. The rain started in earnest and it was to the tapping tune of a summer storm that the Worthington-Smithfield entourage marched out to the carriage.

When the dining room and kitchen were cleaned, Beth said, "Are you ready to go up and see Mrs. Worthington?"

"Will you please call her something else?" Derek threw the wash towel into the laundry tub.

"That's her name."

Scowling, he jogged up the stairs. "So?"

Chuckling, Beth followed him. They went up the main staircase and Beth knocked lightly on Catherine's door.

"Come in."

"Good morning, Mrs. Worthington."

Laying in bed, Catherine had her Bible opened on her lap. "I'm glad you could come up. I thought you might be very busy."

"Derek helped me, ma'am."

Looking at him, her smile brightened even more. "Good morning, Derek."

"'Morning, Miss Catherine." Sitting in the chair beside her bed, Derek waited, unsure of what to do with himself.

"I thought we'd talk about Job. Do you know about him at all?"

Beth shook her head.

"Isn't he the one who lost everything? His sons and his house, and all?" Derek asked, recalling the lesson in which Mr. Millstone had mentioned poor, pitiful Job with extreme clarity.

It had actually been the first Sunday after Jonathan returned from school for summer vacation. Acting as a deacon, he seemed to have felt it to be his own personal responsibility to make sure all the children in the class fully understood what "suffering" meant.

"Mmm-hmm," Catherine said, nodding. "Job suffered a great deal. He suffered because God let Satan destroy everything he owned. And even as he is suffering, his friends are contending with him at points."

"God sure must hate him."

"No. You see, Job loved Heavenly Father with all his heart. And Heavenly Father knew that. So did Satan. Satan thought if he could hurt Job badly enough he'd turn away from God, which would in turn make Him suffer. God, however, knows everything about all of us. He knows our hearts and thoughts. He knew that Job would always love Him, so to prove the power of love and faith to Satan, God let Job suffer."

Derek couldn't remember the word "love" ever coming up in Mr. Millstone's explanation, so Catherine's use intrigued him. "Did it work?"

Chuckling a little, Catherine said, "Why don't we read some of it?"

As she went on to read from the Bible, Derek leaned back in his chair, smiling to himself a little. When she read it was so much more lively than when Reverend Marks read. And
he
never seemed to find anything positive in the Bible. Mostly only fire and brimstone. Death and destruction. Talk about raining holy vengeance down upon the heads of the sinners seemed to be the only parts he looked at.

Quite the opposite, Derek was finding that there was a lot of love and hope in the book of Job. It was reading that seemed to have been written for Catherine's sweet voice to recite.

All too soon, Catherine stopped reading and closed her book. "Thank you for coming up."

Sitting back up, Derek looked around as Beth walked out of the room. Was that it? There had to be more. That seemed a lot shorter than regular church. "Is that all?"

"We can read some more if you want."

He smiled at her. "Yes. I'd like to."

Catherine sat up a little more and moved over on her bed. "Come sit over here so you can look at the book."

Flustered, Derek wasn't sure what to say. He didn't want her to ask him to read any of it, but it seemed very embarrassing to admit that upfront.

Seeing his discomfort, she smiled kindly. "It's all right if you'd rather stay over there."

"It's not that. I just…don't read very well."
Or at all
, he added to himself.

"It's fine. You don't have to read out loud." She motioned for him to join her once more, tipping her book down so he could look at the page.

"Why don't we talk about my favorite scripture. It's John 3:16. 'For God so loved the world that he gave his Only Begotten Son that whosoever believeth in his name should not perish, but have everlasting life.'"

Picking a random spot on the page, he ran his eyes over the lines as she read, hoping it looked like he knew what he was doing. People never did anything particular when they read, so he supposed if he just stared at the book she'd never notice that he wasn't really following along.

When she finished, she looked up at him. "I think that's a perfect gift."

"'The world?' As in, everyone? He loves
everyone
?"

Catherine smiled. "Heavenly Father does love everyone. No matter what."

It was a concept Derek wasn't quite familiar with. In church they were taught that while Jesus loved everyone, God wanted the world to burn. Listening to the weekly sermon often led Derek to wonder why anyone would bother making so many things they hated so much.

"What about evil people? And people who don't do what He wants them to?" he asked. "Does He love them?"

"That's the wonderful thing about God. No matter how we feel about ourselves, or how others feel about us, He loves us. While everything else in our lives can seem to be testifying about how unworthy we are, if we're really quiet and listen passed those shouts, there's a small voice whispering, 'I love you no matter what.' Even if we aren't doing everything He'd want us to do, as long as we're trying, that's all He cares about."

Derek just looked at Catherine for a moment. It was a very nice thing to think, but it couldn't be true. No one could love everyone in the world. How could the same person who loved and understood Martha Worthington, love and understand him?

Smiling gently, Catherine closed her book. "It's something for you think about. All right?"

Nodding, Derek started to stand up. He felt like he should thank her, but he wasn't sure what for.

"What have I told you about bothering Catherine? She needs her rest," Jonathan's sharp voice snapped from the doorway.

Almost jumping off the bed, Derek looked over at the man.

It was obvious from his expression that coming home to find his least favorite person sitting on his wife's bed wasn't something Jonathan had planned on having happen. Striding into the room, he stopped protectively beside his wife. There was a dark glint in his eyes that made his handsome features look even more calculating and unreadable.

"He wasn't bothering me," Catherine said in a sweet, yet firm voice, taking Jonathan's hand. "We were having Sunday school...of a sort. I asked him to come in. And why are you home so early?"