Corner of the Housetop: Buried Secrets (13 page)

Barely controlling the anger that crept into his voice, Derek replied, "No. Can't say as I've been sleeping with your sister at all."

Marcus and Charlie stopped chuckling and looked at Anthony, whose face was quickly going from tanned to red. He looked as if he was going to explode from rage. "What did you say?" he asked threateningly.

"I didn't stutter," Derek said defiantly, clenching his fists at his sides.

Opening his mouth to retort, Anthony was cut short when Jonathan walked over to them. "Good afternoon, Jonathan," Anthony said politely. "It's been a while since I've seen you."

"Yes, it has. Good to see you again." Looking at Derek, he said, "A word with you outside, if you don't mind."

With a final glare at Anthony and his friends, Derek followed Jonathan out into the sunlight. Once they were a safe distance from the chapel door, Derek glared at Jonathan and snapped, "What?" After the storm the previous day there was no humidity and the light breeze that played through the apple trees was gentle and cool. It rushed soothingly over Derek's anger-flushed skin.

"Nothing, really. I just didn't think it would be a very good idea to leave you in there with them. You really do lack discretion," he added with a superior sneer, narrowing his eyes accusingly.

Derek's cheeks flushed a brighter red.

"You were being very obvious. It was humiliating." After looking at Derek coolly for a moment, Jonathan said, "Go wait by the carriage with Devon."

"And who said you could tell me what to do?"

"Or don't. I honestly don't care. It won't matter much to me when you get in trouble. It's just embarrassing to know I'd have to be seen with you after you started a brawl in Sunday service."

Derek glared at him for a second before storming off to the carriage. Slumping in the seat, he looked at Devon. "Can you believe him? I have to stand there and take Anthony bad-mouthing my parents and Jonathan gets mad at
me
for embarrassing him? There are some things in this life that just aren't fair. At all!"

"Fair compared to what?"

"Compared to how things should be. Little toads like Anthony Clayton should be the ones forced to sleep with animals and shovel dung."

Devon raised an eyebrow at him. "And what have you done to make yourself so much better than Anthony Clayton?"

Swelling angrily at the question and lack of understanding, Derek just crossed his arms over his chest and looked out the opposite window, ignoring that Devon was even there. After a few minutes, he said, "I'm so tired of him. I'm sick of him saying things about my mother and father. What could he possibly know?" He looked back at the old man. "Devon?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you know my parents? You've been working for the Worthington's forever."

"Forever's a long time," was all he said.

"You know what I mean. Since before they died. What were they like?"

"Mrs. Worthington don't like us talkin' 'bout things like that," he said after a few seconds of silence.

Scowling, he snapped, "And I'm going to run right off and tell her you told me!"

"You might."

"All right then. What's my last name? That's about me, not my parents."

"Can't rightly say I know."

He looked away again. It wasn't as if he wanted a full history about his mother and father. Just
something
. Their names. All he wanted was their names and he'd be satisfied. Or to know what they were like, really, without Mrs. Worthington's bias opinion. Who they were besides good servants. Their
race
, even Derek did have darker skin than most boys, but it was from so much extra work out-of-doors: he was nowhere near black and he knew Anthony knew it. Derek just wished he had something he was sure of to say back to Anthony when he started in on his parents.

Derek was still sulking when Gabriel walked over to the carriage, followed closely by his mother and Aniline.

"Thank you ever so much, Mrs. Worthington," Aniline was saying with a sugary smile.

"It's our pleasure, dear. We just love having you to the house. It's nice not being the only woman for a change."

Oh no
, Derek thought, sitting up.
Her.

"Derek, don't be rude! Move over," Mrs. Worthington hissed.

Sliding over as far as he could, Derek rested his elbow on the window edge. Gabriel climbed in beside him and Mrs. Worthington sat across from him.

"I do feel very much like I'm imposing," Aniline protested.

"Not at all, dear. This carriage would comfortably seat six adults. Five is hardly an inconvenience."

Smiling sweetly, Aniline sat beside Mrs. Worthington. "I look ever so much forward to spending the afternoon with you, Gabriel."

As she spoke, Jonathan and the Cutters approached. From a distance, Derek could tell Jonathan was straining to keep a diplomatic smile on his face. "Thank you for your concern. I will convey it to Catherine."

"You have a good day, Jonathan," Mrs. Cutter said, waddling away towards a group of women.

"Yes. And do try to stop down to the store," Mr. Cutter added, smiling, the corners of his green eyes crinkling. "I'll take you out for a drink."

"Your offer is truly generous. Thank you." Looking at the full carriage, Jonathan visibly hesitated. Despite what Mrs. Worthington thought, it was going to be very uncomfortable for the three boys to squish together on one seat during the bumpy ride.

"Aniline is going to spend the afternoon with us," Mrs. Worthington explained as Jonathan, with a slight grimace, squeezed onto the seat beside his brother.

Derek was pushed against the wall so hard he couldn't move his arm all the way from his shoulder. Gabriel, too, seemed more than a little uncomfortable as he tried to shift a little. He only managed to wedge his shoulder more firmly against Derek's.

"I hope it's not any inconvenience," the girl said, turning her radiant smile on Jonathan.

"Not at all, Miss Clayton. Pleasurable company is never an inconvenience."

Derek hid an involuntary snort behind a fake cough. "Dust," he explained when everyone looked at him.

By the time they were halfway home, Derek had lost all feeling in his left arm and his fingers began to tingle. He wasn't sure what was more painful: Gabriel's elbow digging into his side or hearing Aniline giggle for the hundredth time.

"I've been to Charlestown several times," she said. "It's lovely in the fall."

"I like it during the spring better, myself," Jonathan replied flatly. He'd long since given up on politely agreeing with her, perhaps hoping she would stop asking his opinion.

The carriage jostled over a patch of stones causing the boys to elbow each other in the ribs yet again. Derek winced and he could have sworn he heard Jonathan let out an annoyed noise that was somewhere between a pained groan and a frustrated sigh.

In the shaking, Gabriel's shoulder had lodged itself even farther behind Derek's. Derek couldn't have guess which of them had to be more uncomfortable: himself with the other boy's shoulder digging into his own, or Gabriel with his arm wedged between Derek's back and the thin padding of the seatback.

At another heavy jostle, Derek stifled a groan as Gabriel's elbow dug more instantly into his side.
That's going to be a bruise
, he thought. He tried to move his right arm between himself and Gabriel, hoping for some extra cushioning on the bumps, but all that did was make Gabriel elbow him on purpose, glaring at him.

"Derek, stop fidgeting," Mrs. Worthington commanded.

"Yes, 'am. Sorry."

She narrowed her eyes at him, her thin lips almost disappearing in her saggy, wrinkled face because she was pressing them together so hard.

Another patch of rocks made all three boys wince once more.

When they finally stopped at the house and climbed stiffly from the carriage, Jonathan was the only one who bothered to hide the fact that he was rubbing his side. The rush of blood back to his swollen, blue fingers made Derek's entire hand pulse and sting.

"How was service, Jonathan?"

Looking up at the porch, surprise written on his face, Jonathan said, "Catherine, you should still be in bed."

Catherine, who was sitting on the bench by the door, smiled. "It was the first nice morning in a week. I wanted to sit outside." Her voice was airy as she spoke, like a weak breeze wending through a noisy room."

The concern leaving his eyes, replaced by his usual hard stare, Jonathan walked up the steps.

"Hello, Derek," Catherine said, looking passed her husband.

"Afternoon, ma'am," he answered.

"Derek, don't just stand there," Mrs. Worthington hissed. "Make yourself useful and help with the carriage."

Walking towards the carriage house, he heard Aniline's sugary voice behind him, "You look ever so much like you're feeling better today, Catherine."

"Yes," Derek said with a snort. "Just ever so much."

"What'd you say, boy?"

"Nothing, Devon." He patted Blueberry absently, his eyes still on Catherine. "Do you want me to put everything away?"

"You're catchin' on," he said, walking away.

"What do you think of that, Blueberry?"

Looking at him blankly, Blueberry shook his head a little, flipping his tail at a fly.

"I think he might have been close to complimenting me."

When he had the carriage backed up and all the reigns and straps in their place, Derek felt under the seat of the wagon for his bag, then hooked the lead to Blueberry's bridle and led him across the lawn. He made a point to go by the front porch so he could see Catherine again, but by the time he got there she was gone, most likely ushered inside by Jonathan.

Walking into the shade of the stable, Derek was glad to see Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth was asleep. "Now if you just stay really quiet," he whispered to Blueberry, "we won't have to deal with her until dinner time. Sound good?"

With both horses content, he climbed the ladder and set his paper bag on his bed. He then walked to the small door at the end of the loft and pulled it open for light. Settling down with his Bible in one hand and his pad of paper and a pencil in the other, Derek flipped open to a random page.

Instead of just going through and learning how to write all the letters at once, he decided to pick a verse a day and copy it down then practice the letters that were in it. Choosing a very short one to start with, he began to slowly draw the letters as he saw them. His writing was jagged and sloppy. And, truth-be-told, it didn't look very much like what was on the Bible page.

"Well," he told himself, "you're only just starting. You aren't going to write like a scholar." Picking out each of the individual letters, Derek wrote them over in the order they appeared below the verse, then set to work copying them several times, running over on the back of the sheet.

Just as he was finishing a row of T's, he heard voices below him. Derek froze.

"Oh, she's so pretty! What's her name?" It was Aniline.

"That's Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth. She's my mother's. This one's mine."

"What's his name?"

"Blueberry," Gabriel said with a sheepish laugh. "I got him for my seventh birthday."