Corner of the Housetop: Buried Secrets (18 page)

"Don't bother. Just get down here and help me with these."

"All right." Turning back to Catherine, he said, "It was good talking with you. Glad you're feeling better," before running down the steps and taking over pushing the heavy cart. He glanced over his shoulder as he rounded the corner and caught a smile on Catherine's face.

Smiling to himself, he waited by the door for Beth to get Atty. When they were both back, he handed the strawberry trays off to them so they could bring them down to the kitchen.

When all the berries were downstairs, Beth came back up and wiped out the handcart quickly. "I hope you had a wonderful conversation with Missus Worthington."

Derek almost winced. He hating hearing Catherine called that. "Yes, I did."

"Good. I'm glad it was worth it because we ate your share of lunch and I'm not putting together a special plate just for you. You can eat at dinner. And put that away." She pushed the cart towards him, then she went inside and closed the door.

Though he couldn't blame her for being angry, he also couldn't be bothered with it. She was right. His conversation with Catherine had been worth it. Very much so. He felt like he could live off of nothing by Catherine; food and sleep seemed of very little importance when he thought of her smile.

Laughing at himself as he pushed cart across the lawn, he said, "You're in a bad way, my friend." As he entered the stable a minute later, he expected to run into Devon, hopping mad again.

Instead, the man was just pouring food into the horses' troughs. "Good lunch, boy?" he asked.

"I didn't end up eating," he answered unaffectedly.

"I'm sure."

"Sorry I didn't come back. Jonathan started ordering me around, making me get Miss Catherine a drink, and then her lunch.…" He let his voice trail off, hoping it sounded like it must have a taken a very long time.

"Hmm," was all he said as he walked down and got the lead off the wall. Devon started hooking it to Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth's bridle.

"I'll take her out."

"I'm already doin' it."

Left standing by himself, Derek couldn't decide what to do. He couldn't see a way to make it up to them: Devon was stubborn and Beth was in the house. Sighing, he climbed up to the loft and sat on his bed. Glancing down, he noticed huge, red stains from kneeling on strawberries on the knees of his pants. Had they been there the whole time he was talking to Catherine? Humiliation washed over him.

She must think I'm such a kid
, he thought with a groan. If there was anything that could make him feel worse than having left Devon and Beth to do all that work alone, it was thinking that he'd made a fool of himself in front of the most beautiful woman in the world.

As he sat there in the soft warmth of the early summer day, the voice from his dream came back to him. It was a quiet, soft voice. The girl from the painting's voice. She was wearing apple blossoms in her braided hair and her dress was white as snow. He remembered how she'd run ahead of him, calling back through the tall grass, "Find me. Come and find me." She'd laughed. She wasn't scared by the forest or the night sounds. She just sort of laughed and called to him.

"Derek, come and find me."

Derek shook his head. It was just a weird dream. A
very
weird dream, but only a dream, nonetheless.

Taking his Bible, and his paper and pencil out of his chest, Derek flipped his book open to some page in the middle and started copying down the first verse his eyes landed on.

"Boy!"

"What!" Derek made no pretenses at politeness. This had to be the millionth time Devon had yelled at him.

Shuffling over, his feet scuffing the dirt on the ground, the old man glared up at Derek through squinted eyes. His leathery face was contorted in thought as if he'd forgotten what exactly he'd wanted in the first place. "When you're done with that you need to go up the house. Got cleaning Mrs. Worthington wants you to do."

With a sigh, Derek went back to hammering in the new latch on the corral gate. With the beginning of summer came the usual maintenance; and with the imminent visit of the Smithfield's came extra chores and spotless detailing of every inch of the plantation house and grounds. It was only the second day after Jonathan sent the return letter and Mrs. Worthington was already acting as if Catherine's family would be arriving in minutes.

As he went to put the hammer away, Derek outlined what he'd done in the past few days: changed the rusted hardware on all the buildings, trimmed the hedges back (again), clipped the grass, painted the shed, cleaned out the carriage house and detailed the carriage and wagon, oiled all the hinges in all the buildings (even the ones that weren't squeaking), cleaned out the rest of the loft, weeded the gardens and transplanted bushes from the back garden to the side of the house and the area by the pond.

"What else can she possibly have for me to do?" he wondered, kicking his shoes off by the side door and walking through the hall, into the sitting room. "You wanted me, Mrs. Worthington?"

"Yes. There's washing to be done in the kitchen. You'll help Beth with that today. And I want the fields tidied. Especially around the stables and up through the riding paths."

"Yes, ma'am." Looking away from Mrs. Worthington, Derek caught Jonathan's eye. He was staring at the boy, his lips drawn in a frown. "Was there something you wanted me to do?" he asked, trying his hardest not to sound too annoyed.

Jonathan stared for a moment longer before saying, "No."

Glancing at Mrs. Worthington once more before leaving, Derek saw an uncharacteristically flustered old woman. Her eyes were round and her mouth, usually set in a grim line, hung open slightly. She was looking at Jonathan as if he'd mutated into some hideous creature before her very eyes and was beginning to slowly devour her favorite house plant.

Wonder what she's got into her head now,
he thought, walking down the hall to the kitchen stairs. Doubtlessly, he would hear all about it from her later when she'd gotten tired of keeping her obvious anger to herself.

"Beth?"

"Under here."

Tipping his head to the side as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, Derek bit his lip for a second, studying the scene before him. Beth was half under the small, wooden table, the broom flailing back and forth as if she were trying to sweep. "Umm, why don't you move the table to do that?"

"I dropped something and I was just picking it up."

Skeptical, he leaned against the counter. "Mrs. Worthington says I am to help you clean."

Standing up, her hair falling out of its usually tight bun, she said, "There isn't much to help with. I've been working down here all day."

"What's left?"

"Laundry needs to be taken up and washed and hung. And the lunch and breakfast dishes are still there."

"Do you want me to do the dishes, or washing?"

With a smile, Beth said, "The wash tub is right over there."

Should have just said I'd do the dishes
, he thought, walking over to pick up the full wash tub from under the laundry chute.

The days of cleaning went by quickly. Furniture was moved and floors were scrubbed. Two more beds were put into the guest bedroom and Atty's worn mattress was pushed into Derek's old bedroom with Beth's. Furniture was moved around in each room to accommodate the tighter quarters. All of the walls were washed and the baseboards were scrubbed.

Derek insisted on doing his old room. With the shifting of furniture he didn't want to risk anyone finding his secret store box. It wasn't exactly his room any more, but he still liked knowing he had his own little spot in the house that Mrs. Worthington and Jonathan couldn't get at. He was a little sad when Jonathan directed him to move the standing cupboard so it covered his hidden compartment in the baseboard, but better that than it being found out, he consoled himself.

By the end of the week, Derek smelled permanently of soap and wash water. He was so tired of scrubbing, clipping, watering, and pruning that he didn't think he wanted to clean or tidy anything ever again. When Friday came there was no more to be done. Everything was polished, right down to the horses getting new shoes.

With nothing to do outside, Derek had spent the rainy morning curled up under his blanket, his Bible open in his lap, his paper propped against a crate board. He had gone through and found the longest three verses he could and was in the middle of copying them down. His penmanship was nearly perfect and he could write fairly quickly. The next step in his plan was to get Devon to teach him how to read the letters he'd taught himself to write.

There was only one flaw in his great plan: Devon held a grudge very badly. He still wasn't speaking to him other than to bark orders or tell him he wasn't doing something the right way. He was taking his time forgetting about the day in the strawberry patch.

On the morning the Smithfield's were to arrive, Derek took advantage of Devon's distraction with breakfast and sneaked up to the loft. He was there only long enough to pull his ledger and pencil out of his chest before his escape was interrupted.

"Derek!"

Jumping more at being called by his name than at Jonathan's voice, Derek looked over the edge of the loft floor. "What is it?"

Jonathan was opening Blueberry's gate and leading him out of the stall. "We're going to pick up the Smithfield's now. When we get back you'll be in charge of bringing their things in."

"How long are you going to be gone?"

"A couple hours, most likely. They'll want to get something to eat in town after the long train ride."

"All right."

"Make sure everything in their room is cleaned and dusted."

"All right."

"And don't wake Catherine when you go in."

"All right."

Jonathan glared up at him. "Don't be smart. Get down here."

Rolling his eyes, Derek set his book and pad by his bed and climbed down the ladder. He suppressed a sigh and took the lead Jonathan held out to him and following him out the door.

The morning was overcast and there was a comfortable breeze. The lazy warbling of birds filtered out between the trees. It was as typical a spring morning in Virginia as ever anyone had seen.

When they got to the porch, Jonathan turned up the steps and marched into the house without looking back at Derek.

Leading Blueberry to the carriage house, Derek muttered, "Wonder what he's rushing around for." When the horse was hitched up to the carriage, Derek patted his nose and started back towards the stables.

"Boy!"

Sigh.

Devon shuffled towards him, his eyes squinted. "You gon' finish your work now?"

"I did finish. I don't have anything to do until they get back from town."

Scrunching up his face and glaring at Derek steadily, Devon grunted something under his breath before walking passed him, down the hill, and stomping up the white steps and into the house.

"Crazy old man," Derek muttered, shaking his head.

As he walked the rest of the way to the stables, Derek began to think about his master plan to learn to read. Ignoring Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth's agitated snorts, he climbed up the ladder to the loft then flopped down on his bed.

"Ouch!"