Corner of the Housetop: Buried Secrets (16 page)

"I better get out of here before they realize I'm the one who took their friends." He debated only a moment about whether or not he should tuck the painting away since Mrs. Worthington obviously didn't want it out, but decided against it. If the old bat had a reason to go up to the attic and was offended at the painting, she could put it away herself. Derek rather liked having it out. There was something comforting in the girl that made the intoxication heat and stifling darkness seem a little less oppressive.

Picking up his lamp and the bag of hornets, Derek went down the stairs. He set the bag down and went back for the ladder. When he was sure he had everything, he closed the door firmly, feeling the tightness in his chest finally subsiding.

Walking back down the hall, Derek saw that Catherine's door was still closed. The house was deathly quiet, even as he went down the stairs. Crossing through the parlor, Derek was surprised when he didn't see anyone.

Where did they all go?
Did they think the house was going to cave in on them when that dresser fell?
he wondered with a smirk.

If he'd known that all he needed to do to get rid of everyone was drop a couple things in the attic he would have done it years ago.

Walking out the side door, he heard Gabriel laughing. The family, with the exception of Catherine, was sitting by the pond on a wide blanket with food set on dainty glass plates among them.

Thank goodness
, Derek thought, going around the carriage house to put the ladder away.
If they had been inside to hear all that racket, Mrs. Worthington probably would have closed the door on me and left me there.

Feeling a little guilty about not checking on Catherine after more-likely-than-not waking her, Derek took his buzzing bag over the hill and to the stables. He'd dig himself a nice hole in the sand to burn it in so he could just bury it when he was done.

Devon was just opening a new bag of oats as Derek walked up with the burlap bag. "What you got there?"

"Hornets," he answered, setting the bag on the cover of the rain barrel. He went in to get the shovel and a match. "They were in the attic," he continued, walking back out the door. "I guess they found a way down into the house because Catherine was complaining about them being in her room."

"That's a big nest."

"Yeah. At least it's down. I just don't see how Beth didn't notice it. She's been staying in my old room."

Digging the nose of the shovel into the ground, Derek leaned his weight on the handle. He winced a little, his back still sore from the fall. It was a long way down the ladder, especially when he had to worry about dodging falling paintings and knickknacks after he hit the floor.

When he was finished with the hole, he dropped the bag into it and poured some of the oil from his lamp over it. "Goodbye, little guys." Striking a match, he set the bag on fire.

Hefting the open oat bag up on his shoulder, Devon glared at him. "Make sure that goes all the way out. Don' need you settin' fire to the buildin'."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he answered, listening as the buzzing grew louder then faded away.

He let most of the fire burn itself out as he raked out Blueberry's stall. When he finished, he did Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth's, then hung the rake on the wall again. Going back to check on the bag, he found a smoking pile of ashes that glowed red every time a breeze blew over it. Derek kicked the dirt back into the hole, stamping it down with his foot.

"Now that that's done, did Beth send us out anything for lunch?"

"Nope."

Derek's stomach growled. "I'm gonna head back down and get something. Maybe a sandwich. Do you want anything?"

"Sandwich sounds fine to me."

Shaking his head, Derek went back to the house. If Mrs. Worthington told him to go in to get rid of the hornets' nest, who's to say he hadn't just finished? Walking down the stairs, he peeked into the empty pantry. Feeling a little sorry that he wouldn't get to see Beth, he made a couple tomato sandwiches and took some dried meat off the hanging line. He'd see her later when she brought them their supper.

The night was cool and quiet as Derek lied in his bed of hay, curling his legs close to his body under the lap blanket he still hadn't returned to the carriage house. As the wind picked up, he slipped into a dream.

"
Find me."

"
Where are you?"

"
Derek. Find me."

Derek pushed his way through the tall grass, unable to feel frightened by the scratching and howling of the night around him. There was something following him. He could hear its breath, but it wasn't important. He knew if he could find where that girl went he would be all right. She'd run into the field of grass and disappeared.

"
Derek." She laughed.

"
Where are you?" he called again, pushing thick branches away from his face, making his way through the thickening grass.

As he finally came to end of the dark field, he broke through the last of the tall grass into a bright meadow. There were hills rolling as far as he could see and right in the middle was a pond surrounded by round rocks and violets.

Standing by the pond was the girl. Her dress was as white as snow, as bright as the star at the center of the sun. Her hair was in two braids, which were curled up on top of her head, soft, pink apple blossoms tucked between the pleats.

Smiling at him, she pressed a finger to her lips. With her other hand she beckoned him closer.

As he walked farther into the meadow, Derek felt safe, just noticing that the dark noises of the night were gone. When he was only a couple feet away from her, he stopped. His hands were shaking and there was an ache in his chest and the back of his throat.

Taking two graceful steps to him, the girl wrapped her arms around him and put her face close to his. Their lips only inches apart, she whispered softly, "Find me."

"Boy!"

Derek woke with a start, sitting straight up. "Where are you?" he called.

"Where you think I am, boy? I'm down here waitin' for you!" Devon yelled back gruffly.

Realizing that he was awake, Derek looked around the loft for a moment.
What a weird dream
, he thought, standing up and getting out his clothes. He didn't quite remember all of it, but there was something about his village and that girl from the painting in the attic. She'd been calling to him. She wanted him to find her….

This wasn't the first time he'd had the dream. In the days that had passed since he'd found the girl in the attic, Derek was haunted by the memory of her eyes. She seemed so familiar, and yet like no one he'd ever met before.

"Boy!"

"I'm coming!" Derek yelled, shaken from his thoughts.

If nothing else had improved over the past week, at least the conditions under which Derek woke had. He no longer had to sweep or rake in the dark hours of the morning. It seemed as if something in their days together had formed an understanding between him and Devon. The man still didn't seem to be his biggest advocate, but he was hardly the hellish tormentor he had been. Derek was especially grateful since he was staying up later and later practicing his writing.

Climbing down the ladder, Derek stepped onto the dirt ground, glancing at Blueberry. "Morning, Blue. Sleep good?"

The horse swished his tail happily.

"Glad to hear it."

"What are we doing today that's so special you had to wait for me to get up?"

"We're pickin' strawberries. Plants came in a fair bit after yesterday's rain an' Beth wants help gittin' everythin' in before the heat picks up again."

Dumping the pail of oats into Blueberry's trough, Derek smiled to himself. It felt like it had been a very long time since he and Beth were together long enough to talk.

"I'm gon' load up the cart with some flats. When you're done here, meet us in the field."

"All right," he answered, stroking the horse's mane for a moment before going back to the oat bag to get Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth her breakfast.

When he finished, he went out and walked across the grassy field towards the strawberry patch. Stopping by the dozen long rows of green, he spotted Beth and Devon, already bent over their flats, picking and dropping berries methodically.

"Good morning," Derek said, taking a flat from the cart and starting on his own row. "It's been a while since I've talked you. How are things at the house?"

Beth was quiet for a moment before she said, "Everything's all right."

Though he got the distinct impression everything wasn't as it should have been, Derek didn't say anything else about it. If something was happening that he should know about she would have said so.

The three picked in silence for a while, filling several crate tops with ripe, red berries. As they worked, the sun rose higher and higher, heating up the open field. With a heavy sigh, Derek set a full crate of strawberries on the pile and sat on the edge of the cart. He wiped his face, then popped one of the juicy berries in his mouth.

"We're pickin' those, not eatin' 'em!"

"I didn't get breakfast, old man," Derek replied, pointedly biting into a second berry. "If you didn't notice. And besides, I picked them. I can eat them."

Beth dropped another handful into her crate top. "Just don't eat too many of them."

Looking around, Derek noticed how bright the sun was. "Isn't it getting around lunch time?"

"As soon as we're done with this we'll get you food," the woman answered.

"Not just that. Shouldn't you be making Mrs. Worthington's meal?"

"Atty's been doing the cooking."

"Why? Shouldn't she be staying with Catherine?"

"Missus Worthington does just fine without her up there. She sleeps, mostly."

Taking another berry, Derek chewed thoughtfully.
She seemed lonely
, he thought, remembering how she'd called to him, thinking he was Jonathan.
It must be awful being stuck in that room all the time, no one to talk to
. A sudden surge of anger shot through him. If Jonathan was even a half-way decent husband, he'd be sitting with Catherine, keeping her company.

"Do you ever go up and see her?"

"Only to bring her food up. And when the doctor comes."

"He's been back?"

"A few times."

"Why doesn't Jonathan spend any time with Catherine?"

There was a tense silence before Devon said, "Been busy, I suppose."

"Too busy for his wife?"

In an attempt to sooth Derek's rising temper, Beth said, "Mr. Worthington has a lot on his mind right now. I think this trip was supposed to be as much for his health as hers. He needs time to rest by himself "

"And ignore his wife while she's sick?"

"Master Worthington's had enough of watchin' people he loves die to last any man to the end of his days," Devon broke in. Carrying his crate over and stacking it on the cart, he snapped, "And that's about all about that situation you need to concern yerself with." There was a note of finality in his voice that Derek didn't dare argue with.