Corner of the Housetop: Buried Secrets (14 page)

Aniline giggled a little. "I think it's a darling name for a darling horse. Hello, Blueberry."

"You can pet him, if you want to. He's friendly."

"Hi there," she said again. "You are such a handsome boy. But I suppose you should be if you're Gabriel's. He's a very handsome boy, too."

Did she forget that Gabriel's standing right there?
Derek wondered.
She is so stupid.

"I just gave you a compliment, Gabriel Worthington," she said in a playful voice.

"Oh, uh, thank you."

She giggled again. "You're welcome. You know, when a girl gives you a compliment you are allowed to give her a compliment back."

There was a pause.

"You're dress is very ni Mm!"

There was the sound of scuffing feet.

Curious, Derek peeked over the edge of the loft floor, trying to see what they were doing. His eyes rolled. She was
kissing
him! Derek sat up quickly, feeling very much like he'd just seen something he shouldn't have. He stayed as quiet as he could so they wouldn't know his was there.

"It's about time to go back to the house for tea, isn't it?" Aniline asked coyly a few seconds later.

"Umm, yeah. Just about." Gabriel sounded distant and breathless.

Through the open window in the loft, Derek watched them walk up the hill and disappear down the other side towards the house. Gabriel's hand was locked firmly in Aniline's.

Derek leaned back against the wall, letting out the breath he'd been holding.

He definitely did
not
need to see that.

Late that night, curled up in his bed, his lamp shining brightly, Derek stared at his Bible, picking out letters he'd memorized already. The only real problem with his efforts, he was finding, was he didn't know what to call each letter. Just pointing to them, telling himself, "This is that one," and "That is this one," wasn't making it easy for him to distinguish between the ones that looked alike.

"What I need is someone to tell me what each one sounds like. Or at least what it's called."

Skimming the page once more, he thought,
I should give them my own names. It'd be like having my very own alphabet
. Smiling at the idea of someone who couldn't read having their own alphabet, he closed the book for a second.

"You gon' turn that light out, boy? Gotta git up early an' unload that wagon!"

"All right! I'm just finishing up something!" he called down.

Opening his chest, he put his Bible, pencil, and ledger pad under his clothes. Crawling on top of the hay, Derek lied on his back, staring through the window-door that he'd left open. In the quiet, he had time to think about what happened at church.

Stupid Anthony,
he thought viciously.
Stupid Jonathan! I'll show him embarrassing! Like what happened was my fault.

From there, his thoughts turned to Devon's remark:
And what have you done to make yourself so much better than Anthony Clayton?

Thinking about it for a moment, Derek surprised himself when he really couldn't come up with much more than the fact that he never made fun of people's parents.

Well, except for Gabriel's mother. But she was completely different. For one thing, she was still alive. And for a second, she was annoying and pushy. It wasn't even the fact that she was Gabriel's mother that made him be mean about her sometimes. It was her personality. The way she treated him personally. There was no way Anthony could even know his mother or father, let alone have reason to hold a personal grudge against either of them.

But I should be grateful for Mrs. Worthington
, he reminded himself, hearing Beth's voice echo in his head.
She has been very kind to me.
Looking around the open loft, smelling the horses below him, and shivering in the cool night air, he repeated to himself,
I should be very grateful.

Sighing, he pulled the sheet off the hay and crawled underneath it.
I should see if I can get a blanket from Beth
. Shivering once more, he thought longingly of the wool lap blankets in the carriage house.

After a few more minutes of lying awake, he stood up and pulled his pants on. Taking a match and his lamp, he climbed down the ladder as quietly as he could, slipping out the door.

Once he was outside, he lit the lamp and hurried across the lawn, the night sounds of the forest echoing around him.
It's only the wind
, he told himself when he jumped at a branch snapping.
Just the wind knocking down some of the branches that started to fall in the storm yesterday. That's all.

Ducking into the carriage house, he took one of the blankets and ran back across the lawn as fast as he could, slamming the stable door closed by accident.

Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth brayed loudly, kicking wildly at the wall, her white eyes wide and petrified as she thrashed her head back and forth. Blueberry was startled awake and began to carry as well.

"Who What Who's there?" Devon yelled, coming out of his room, grabbing the pitchfork off the wall, and brandishing it at him.

Derek tossed the blanket behind the pile of grain sacks quickly. "It's just me!" he said over the racket the horses were making, holding up his lamp so Devon could see him. "Had to go to the bathroom," he explained.

Shuffling forward, muttering under his breath, Devon grabbed at Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth's nose, holding her head steady. "S'okay, girl. S'okay. Easy, easy."

Derek, in turn, patted Blueberry, soothing him until his frightened racket was reduced to nervous twitches of his tail every few seconds.

Pointing a callused finger right between Derek's eyes, Devon said gruffly, "Do it again, boy, and I'll have your head," then shuffled quickly down the walk and slammed his door closed, the pitchfork still in his hand.

"Sorry," he said softly, more to the horses than Devon.

Retrieving his blanket, Derek climbed back up to the loft and curled up on his bed. After only a few minutes, he slipped into an odd dream in which millions and millions of little letters were chasing him down the path to the river in the dark.

The following week went by with ease, the calm, cool weather adding to the mellow mood that settled over the Worthington Plantation.

During a particularly mild midmorning, Derek was resting against the wall in the loft, scanning his book for new letters. He had finished his chores earlier was taking advantage of his free time. He sighed. The first couple pages of his ledger pad were covered in scribbles and copied Bible verses. Though his handwriting was finally beginning to look something like the print, he was no closer to understanding its meaning.

Sighing again, he leaned forward and looked out the window.

Devon was far below in the corral with Blueberry. The horse, as happy with the comfortable weather as Derek was, galloped in a circle at the edge of the fence.

Derek smiled a little. Since being allowed to care for the horses more, he felt Devon warming up to him. It was a very slight warmth, but it was there. He'd even ordered Derek out to the corral the previous day and showed him how to use the short lead to exercise Blueberry. It had been two hours of Devon shouting and Derek being dragged in lopsided circles around the corral, but it was a step he hadn't expected to take so soon, especially considering the incident on Sunday night.

Just as he was about to go back to his book, Derek saw Gabriel walk over the hill and down towards the corral. He said something to Devon, then started towards the stable.

Sighing again, Derek closed his book. He should have known it was hoping too much to think he might have a day to himself to work on his writing.

"Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"Mother wants you up at the house."

Scowling a little, Derek climbed down the ladder and walked across the lawn with Gabriel. "Do you know what she wants?"

"I don't know. She just said to make sure you go in the side door."

"What? Me go in through the main door? I wouldn't dream of it."

Smiling a little, Gabriel shook his head. "She's in a pretty good mood today, so if you just nod and say, 'Yes, ma'am,' you should do all right."

"I'll remember that. Thanks," Derek said, pulling the door open and stepping into the house. It was much warmer inside than it was outside. Derek figured it was from the fire downstairs. As he walked around the corner into the parlor, he saw Mrs. Worthington and Jonathan sitting quietly together and drinking tea.

"Derek," Mrs. Worthington said in a very business-like way. "There is a matter you need to take care of before the end of the day. Catherine has been complaining about hornets in her room. Jonathan found the problem this morning. There's a nest in the attic."

At the word "attic," Derek nearly walked right back out the door without so much as a word. He hadn't been up to the attic in over a year and he didn't want to have to go up there again.

Looking at Jonathan, he thought,
If he was just up there why couldn't he have taken care of it?

With a glower, Mrs. Worthington said in a clipped tone, "That is all. You may leave us."

Struggling against saying something he knew he would regret, Derek nodded a little and left the house. Part of him wanted to put it off until the last possible moment, but that might leave him up there after dark: the only thing worse than having to be in the attic was having to be in the attic after dark.

Taking the shed key out of his pocket, Derek unlocked the door and swung it open. It took him a couple minutes to shuffle the wheelbarrow, shears, and large oil can aside. Once they were out of the way, he took the step ladder out and leaned it on the side of the carriage house. Grabbing a pair of heavy, leather work gloves, he stuffed them in his back pocket—having dealt with several hornets' nests and bee hives in his days of helping keep up the main buildings, Derek knew they were essential.

Putting everything else back, he closed and locked the door then started back to the house.

Walking through the side door, Derek went around to the main staircase. Even if the small one wasn't blocked any more, he highly doubted he'd be able to get the ladder up it without banging the banister and putting dents in the walls.

As he walked up the stairs, the tension in his gut mounted. His throat began to close up and his palms sweated. Stopping for a moment half way up to get a better grip on the ladder, he told himself,
It's just a room. Like any other room in the world. The only difference is it's a very high up, very big room with a lot of old junk in it. It sounds just like the loft. You don't mind the loft,
he reasoned.

Derek continued up the stairs until he got to the top, then started down the hall to the door at the far end. The entrance to the attic was in his old room, hidden behind a door papered over to look like the wall. It was the sort of scary door that was only visible to people who it was there in the first place. If a person got closed in there by accident they may never be found….

"Jonathan?" a weak, tired voice called.

Derek jumped at the sudden sound, nearly dropping the ladder. When he realized where it had come from, he stepped backwards and looked through the open door of Beth's old room. He was more than a little surprised to see Catherine.