by Leen Elle
Satisfied with his short-term goal of finding and copying all the different letters, Derek went over to where he'd thrown his night shirt and picked it up. He shook the straw off it and changed quickly, then blew out his lamp and lied down on his bed. Within minutes he was fast asleep, exhausted from the day's events.
Chapter Seven
"Let us bow our heads in prayer."
Sighing with impatience, Derek bowed his head. A sharp pinch on the side of his leg made him look up. Mrs. Worthington glared at him warningly before dropping her chin to her chest, clasping her bony hands together so tightly they turned white almost instantly.
Scowling, Derek closed his eyes again.
After his excitement at getting to hitch up the carriage before church, the rest of the day had gone downhill. Because of the mud they were several minutes late getting into the hall, putting Mrs. Worthington in an even worse mood than usually. She actually seemed very perturbed at the fact that they even dared to start the service without her.
Another dark mark on the morning was Jonathan. He was in a bad mood as well, and seemed unable to think of anything to do but glare at Derek the whole way to church. Only once did Derek dare glare back, which earned him a telling-off from Mrs. Worthington about manners.
After the long prayer, Reverend Marks lifted his head and turned to a different page in the book in front of him, beginning anew with his sermon.
Glancing sideways, Derek saw that Gabriel seemed just as bored as he felt. Jonathan, slipping of his usual character, was tracing the pattern of the wood grain on the back of the front pew. Mrs. Worthington, however, was staring up at Reverend Marks with rapt attention, her thin lips pressed tightly together, her clawed fingers grasping her Bible.
An hour later, Derek stood up, stretching his back just enough to get some of the knots out but not enough for Mrs. Worthington to see him. She angered very easily on Sunday morning, especially if anyone suggested that anything about church was uncomfortable.
As Derek turned towards the door he heard a familiar voice: "Jonathan, good to see you."
Smiling tightly, Jonathan nodded to Mr. Cutter.
"We heard your wife wasn't feeling well the other day."
The feeling that he'd said something he shouldn't returned. Ducking away from the family, Derek went around to the back of the chapel and waited by the door.
"Good afternoon, Derek," Aniline Clayton said, walking towards him. She stopped so close to him that the puffy shoulder of her dress brushed his arm.
Trying to move away discreetly, Derek nodded politely. "'Afternoon, Aniline."
"Do you know where Gabriel is?"
A two-second debate flashed through his mind. He could either serve the poor fool up to her or let him have a few more moments of peace while she had to hunt for him. "Actually, I'm not sure where he is."
After pouting for a moment, Aniline smiled at him tensely, jerking her head down in a business-like nod, and then walked away, her gray eyes scanning the room in a very predatory manner.
Poor Gabe, Derek thought, leaning against the doorframe.
"Well, well, what have we here?"
Glaring at Anthony as he, Marcus, and Charlie Nettle strode towards him, Derek suppressed a groan of annoyance. Each week the trio made it a point to stop and say something to him. At least this time they were inside so it wouldn't get too nasty.
"When did they start letting niggers come to church?"
His cheeks burning with rage, Derek said, "I ain't a nigger."
"Should have been," he amended. After a moment of smirking, Anthony said, "You're father was one, so that makes you half-n-half. And a half's as good as a whole, I think."
Charlie and Marcus chuckled cruelly.
He's not worth it, Derek told himself. Not here.
"Maybe he's proud of his dual-heritage," Anthony continued. "I mean, you must be at least part nigger. Look at you. Sure you're all dressied up now, but you usually wear nigger clothes and do nigger work. It must make you feel a lot more comfortable sleeping with the pigs, at least. That is where you sleep, right? You smell like you do, at any rate."
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 eve
r 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."
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 floo
r, 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.
