Corner of the Housetop: Buried Secrets (45 page)

"You seem to be on the better side of well."

"Yes, sir. I just had lunch," Derek answered. It felt like a lie when he said it, but he had been at the table and he had swallowed something, as evidenced by the uncomfortable turning in his gut.

Dr. Crawford smiled and nodded. "Very good, very good. Have you been out often?"

"A bit. Usually in the morning when it's cooler."

He nodded once more. "I am glad to hear it. And since you are well, I should check in on my other patient."

Derek stood carefully it would not due to vomit on the porch in front of the doctor and opened the door for the man. "I think the family is still having tea, but I'm sure they won't mind if you interrupt." He didn't even need to announce the guest as he walked into the dining room: Jonathan was already standing and nodding in greeting.

"Good afternoon, Doctor."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Worthington. And Mrs. Worthington."

Mrs. Worthington smiled like a saint and offered him tea.

"Oh, no, I couldn't, thank you. I have an appointment with the Claytons shortly, so I mustn't be leisurely."

"Nothing too serious, I hope," Mrs. Worthington said. Her voice was sweet, but Derek saw the narrowed pleasure in her eyes to think that something terrible might have befallen the only family in town who would speak against her own.

"I'm sure all will be quite well," Dr. Crawford answered discreetly with his own smile.

Jonathan, who had been standing by the door, interrupted further conversation, "Catherine was awake earlier, so you might find her well today."

A chill went down Derek's spine and he felt sick again.

Still smiling, Dr. Crawford nodded to Mrs. Worthington and Gabriel, then followed Jonathan out of the room.

Derek waited a moment then pretended he was going to his room and went up the stairs after them. When he reached the hallway, he crept the closed door across from his own and listened. The voices were no more than hushed tones, maddeningly teasing in their refusal to rise to a coherent level. When at last he could strain his ears no more, Derek retreated to his room and threw himself onto his bed, regretting it immediately as the meager contents of his stomach protested so violently that he was ill in the chamber pot. His head spun and swam and he tasted bile on the back of his tongue.

Derek's stomach clenched once more as he heard the doctor's worried voice behind him, "Are you well?"

Looking over his shoulder, Derek hoped the heat he felt in his skin had not risen in his face. "Yes, sir," he said with coarse voice. "I think I might have eaten too much at lunch."

Jonathan, who stood slightly behind the doctor looking into the room without interest, did not bother to correct the misinformation.

"That's no good at all, my boy. You're very weak and sensitive still. You must be careful of yourself." He looked at Jonathan. "I don't think I've seen so sensitive a boy. Were his parents disposed to illness?"

Though he looked opposed to answering, Jonathan said, "Not particularly. At least, no more than any other person."

"But they died of illness, didn't they?"

"Many people die of illness."

"Very young-"

"Either way, the boy looks fine now," Jonathan said with candid impatience. "Or at any rate, he does not appear to be dying. Shall we return to other matters?"

"Yes, certainly." Looking at Derek, Dr. Crawford said, "But I'll want to see you again before I leave. Why don't you lie in bed a moment while it passes? There's a good boy."

Left to himself, Derek lied on his back and looked at the ceiling. He was growing very weary of being sick. Closing his eyes, he let the exhaustion of his sickness lull him to sleep. He woke to the clicking of the door knob only moments after falling asleep, though he felt like he'd been dreaming for hours.

"Now, let's have a closer look at you."

Yawning, Derek pushed himself up and peered blearily around the room. Jonathan must have decided he'd been enough help for one day because he was nowhere to be seen. His absence put Derek more at ease, though he would have liked to witness Dr. Crawford questioning Jonathan about his parents a little longer.

As he drew the chair near the bed, Dr. Crawford set his bag down. Drawing out his stethoscope, he said, "Lift your shirt."

All too familiar with the examination process, Derek complied with requests even as they were given, and soon found himself waiting while the doctor looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"You seem all but well. A little rattling in the lungs, but better than before. Have you had any pain in your chest?"

Derek shook his head. He wondered if explaining about the blackberries might ease the man's concern for his sudden sickness, but that might lead to questions he didn't want to answer, like why he was living on only blackberries for so long to begin with. Instead, he said, "I feel much better. I'm sure it was just a passing thing. I haven't been sick all weekend besides that."

"Really? Well, I suppose if you look fine now I can't do much. I do want to hear you've been eating a bit more. You seem like you've lost weight instead of gaining it."

What happened to my looking well?
he wondered crossly. "Yes, sir. I'll try to eat more."

"There's a good boy. What's more," Dr. Crawford added, standing, "try to keep it down. It does no good otherwise."

"Yes, sir."

"I left word with Mr. Worthington that he's to contact me if you have any other turns like this. It could be a sign of something more serious, or it could just be your stomach getting used to having food in it after so long. Either way, I'll keep in touch. Until I see you again, be careful and don't go out by yourself. In fact, you'd do better to stay inside, especially in the heat."

His spirits dropping even more at the continued confinement, Derek muttered, "Yes, sir."

He smiled. "Good boy. I'll leave you to rest a bit. I dare say you'll want it."

With a final "Yes, sir," Derek watched the man walk out of the room, then lied down again. He sighed and thought of the new horse coming and how he wouldn't get to go out and see it. After several moments of thought, he decided to sneak out anyway. It wasn't as if anyone kept too close a watch on him.

With his own visit with the doctor over and his thoughts casting about for something to think on, Derek discovered a heightened concern for Catherine growing in his mind. Making up his mind to go and see her while everyone else was distracted with the horse the next morning, he stretched his arms, which were oddly stiff, and rolled over to look out the window, suddenly too awake and alert to rest.

Tuesday morning came with a haze of visible humidity that strangled the plantation. No one seemed fully awake at breakfast (which Derek had been "invited" to take at the table with the family) besides Gabriel, who spent more effort talking about the new horse than eating his food.

"She's chestnut brown," Gabriel told Derek as though he'd already seen her. "We might breed her with Blueberry."

Unable to be completely uninterested, Derek said, "That might make a pretty colt."

Nodding energetically, Gabriel said, "We're probably going have a few more horses, too. With the crops so poor-"

"Gabriel," Jonathan cut in. "It's rude to talk about business matters over a meal. If you don't finish your breakfast in time, you won't go down when Mr. Todd gets here."

Jonathan's turning this place into a horse farm?
Derek wondered, his interest piqued even more. That would be quite a change, and a good one, too, he couldn't help but think. Glancing at Mrs. Worthington, who had stubbornly refused to seek other means of income beyond the withered berries and meager garden, Derek noted that her lips were pursed in distaste and she seemed to want to make a comment she knew better than to make.

Thinking of the old plantation transformed into a horse farm, its sleepy fields fenced and filled with livestock, inspired a joy he hadn't felt in weeks, making him long for the outside air and the scent of the stables. He would almost like to stay….

"When is Mr. Todd getting here?" Derek asked, his voice more animate than it had been since his illness.

"What makes you think you're going to meet him?" Mrs. Worthington sneered, obviously anxious to unleash her dissatisfaction on someone.

"I just thought since I'll be the one caring for it-"

"Says who? I'm not letting you near my poor animals."

"My animals," Jonathan corrected smoothly, his tone conversational as he turned a piece of ham with his fork and knife, then cut it in half. "And I maintain that this is not the time to discuss business. I was not speaking only to Gabriel." Looking up for the first time, he quelled any farther argument or comment with an icy stare.

His question unanswered, Derek began to feel a little annoyed, but he had not been told he couldn't go, so if he stayed quiet for the rest of the morning he might be able to tag along without reprimand.

The rest of breakfast passed in a tense silence which Jonathan alone seemed immune to. When the dishes were cleared Derek walked out to the porch and sat down. He pretended to want air, but his eyes scanned the distant road for an approaching rider with an extra horse in tow. In moments, he was lost in the quiet of the morning. He finally felt well and a desire to walk to the river almost overtook his longing to meet Mr. Todd.

Nearly an hour passed before Derek saw motion. Standing, he watched a man with a wide brimmed hat gallop up the drive on a white and brown horse, a deep-colored mare trotting behind him. "Mr. Todd is here!" he called into the house then walked down the steps to meet the man and show him where to tie his horse. He was a little dizzy and the porch seemed to sway beneath him, but his excitement made it easy to push away.

Upon closer inspection, Mr. Todd presented himself very much as a cowboy. His hat was wide and weathered, the hair beneath it a shade of light, dusty brown. The man's face was young but aged by sun and wind. His eyes, deep brown and narrow from squinting into the sun, were roaming and inquisitive. Mr. Todd stood in the stirrups and swung one leg over the horse then stepped easily onto the ground, his long, buckskin-clad legs slightly bowed, telling of a life on horseback. He was the tallest man Derek had ever seen.

"I can take your horse, if you want," Derek offered, staring up in barely concealed awe.

"Much appreciated," Mr. Todd replied with a slight nod as he held the reigns out. "Just let me untie the mare."

Holding the leather strap while the man worked with the mare's lead, Derek couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of envy.

"Good morning, Todd," Jonathan said, stepping out of the house and coming down the steps at a light jog.

Smiling toothily, Mr. Todd walked around Derek, his hand outstretched. "Jonathan Worthington. It's been too many years."

"Yes," Jonathan agreed, taking the man's hand warmly. He was smiling. "How have you been?"

Mr. Todd took his hat off and wiped his brow. "Busy. My father broke his leg a couple weeks ago so I've been taking care of the homestead for him."

"I'm sorry to hear it. He'll be all right soon, I hope?"

"Knowing him?" He laughed a little. "He'll be up a week before the doctor tells him he can. What about you? How's the missus?"

His smile falling a bit, Jonathan said, "Still not feeling well, I'm afraid."

"That's too bad. Sweet girl like her laid up for so long." Hooking his thumb toward Derek, he asked, "This your brother…Gabriel was his name, right? Looks the spittin' image of you at his age."