by Leen Elle
Whether caused by Derek's ill manners, or some other things entirely unrelated, the heaviness surrounding the house would have been noticeable to anyone. It was, in fact, a mark of the seriousness of the situation that even Gabriel, who was usually childishly blind to all happenings outside his own entertainment, seemed aware of the tension. Despite the fact that everyone noticed it, they were all doing a wonderful job of smiling and acting like there was nothing wrong. It was as ridiculous as if they'd all been sitting to dinner and pretending not to notice an elephant standing in the room.
When Tuesday came the family went to the ocean, and Derek was grateful to be left to pick strawberries without Abigail sneaking after him, eating everything he put in the flat.
Standing up, Derek arched his back and wiped his forehead. He'd been picking for the past two hours and his muscles were starting to ache. "How's your row looking?" he called over to Beth.
"Almost done. Just a couple more plants and I'll be at the end."
"Me, too. Think Atty'll have lunch ready in half an hour?"
"Probably. Mrs. Worthington usually eats right at noon."
Derek shielded his eyes and looked up at the sun. It looked close to noon. "Let's go in for lunch when we finish these rows."
"All right."
They both started picking again. Derek's pace picked up at the thought of food and he reached the end of his row in a quarter-of-an-hour. Hefting the crate flat onto the cart, Derek looked back at Beth. "About done?"
"Be another minute. You head off to the house with what's there and have Atty start some wash water on the fire."
"You got that last one?"
"Yeah. It's nowhere near full. I'll just carry it over when I come."
"All right. See you at the house." Derek leaned the handcart up onto its two wheels and pushed it across the field.
Bumping and creaking, the old cart groaned at the dips in the lawn, its axle bending under the weight of a dozen full flats.
Better replace that before it bothers breaking on me, he thought. Fine thing if I dumped a full load of berries right on the lawn.
At the house, Derek propped the door open with one of the boots in the hall and carried in the first crate flat of berries. He walked down the stairs, balancing the flat carefully. "Atty, do you have lunch?"
"I was just putting Mrs. Worthington a tray to bring up. You can pick over what's left in the pot."
Derek set the flat on the table. "I have to carry the rest of the berries in. Before you go up to Miss Catherine, could you put some water on the fire for washing? Beth wants to get these berries canned today."
"All right. Do you need help carrying the berries?"
"No, I'll be done in a minute." Derek jogged back up the stairs to get the next flat. By the time Atty walked into the kitchen with Catherine's empty tray, he was finished stacking the crates and had pulled out the large mixing bowl to put the berries into after he pulled the hauls.
Atty tipped the dishes into the basin. "Make sure to eat before it gets cold."
"I will. I just wanted to get that bowl out so Beth doesn't tell me to when she gets here." Derek took a bowl and poured himself some soup, then sat at the table. It was still warm and it tasted delicious.
A few minutes later, Beth walked in with the rest of the berries. She set them on the table beside Derek and sat down, wiping her face. "Soup? Atty, it's too hot!"
"It's what Mrs. Worthington asked for, so it's what I made."
"Mrs. Hardy stopped by yesterday with fresh dairies. Have some strawberries with cream," Derek advised, eyeing the ripe bulbs.
"They're for canning."
Derek took one. "Gotta taste 'em. Can't can them unless you know they're good."
Taking the berry out of Derek's hand and tossing it back into the flat, Beth said, "I'm sure they're fine."
Derek scowled and drank his soup broth.
"When you're done, will you help me haul those berries?"
"Already got the bowl out for it. Then I need to fix the axle on the cart, so don't bother putting it away."
"Broke again?"
"Almost."
Beth sighed.
When they were finished eating, the three spent the rest of the early afternoon preparing the strawberries for canning. When all that was left was to boil the jars and mash the berries, Derek left the kitchen. He spent the rest of his afternoon working on the handcart axel. By the time he finished and the tools and cart were back in the shed, Blueberry was just clopping merrily up the drive.
Not looking at the carriage, Derek tried to sneak back to the stables, but Devon spotted him before he could get over the knoll.
"Boy!"
Derek stood still for a moment, his shoulders slumped, before turning and trudging back down to the dirt lot. "Yes?"
Devon steered Blueberry up to the porch then clambered down from his perch. "You see to the horse and put away the carriage."
With a sigh, Derek walked around the carriage and flipped the step down.
Abigail, her cheeks rosy with sun, her shoes missing, bounced out first. "Derek, I went swimming!"
Mrs. Smithfield was next out of the carriage. She took Abigail's hand and, without looking at Derek, said, "It's time to get ready for lunch." She'd been almost as cold to him as Mrs. Worthington since the incident on Sunday.
Abigail looked over her shoulder at Derek as she was led towards the house.
Taking the cue from Mrs. Smithfield, Derek didn't respond.
Mr. Smithfield came next. He helped Mrs. Worthington who gave Derek a withering glare down from the carriage step, turned, smiled, and nodded his thanks to Derek, then went up the porch steps.
Bartholomew stumbled out after his father, hurrying to catch up. Derek watched him toddle up the stairs and into the house. He, too, was sun burnt, but it didn't have nearly the same effect on him as it did on Abigail. Instead of looking like a sweet child who'd been to the ocean all day, Bartholomew more closely resembled a choking person, with his round cheeks puffy and crimson.
Last out of the carriage was a weary-looking Jonathan. His eyes drowsy, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up past his elbows, he seemed to want nothing better than to go to bed. When he noticed Derek holding the door for him albeit, grudgingly, he stopped a moment, giving him a closed, somewhat appraising look. After a moment, he turned to take Abigail's sandy shoes off the carriage floor, then walked by Derek, up the stairs, and into the house without a word.
Scowling, Derek slammed the carriage door. He patted Blueberry on the head. "Come on, Blue. Get you put away." Derek walked Blueberry into the carriage house, unhitched the carriage, then lead the horse back outside and across the lawn. "Only three more days, Blue," he said conversationally. "Then they'll be gone and you can rest a bit." And so can I.
Once the horse was put in his stall, Derek climbed to the loft and took out his books. He had a couple hours before he'd be wanted to do anything, and he was still working out the sounds in relation to the letters in the verse he'd memorized. The time crept by as Derek copied and studied, reading and analyzing, though, admittedly, not making much more of it than he had by the third or fourth time he'd looked at the words. After nearly an hour, Derek's studying was interrupted by the opening of the stable door and a call from below.
"Derek?"
Not immediately recognizing the voice, Derek closed his books and set them on the floor by his bed. "Coming!" he called in response, climbing down the ladder.
Mr. Smithfield was standing by Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth's stall, rubbing her nose as she chewed lazily.
"Yes, sir?" Derek asked.
Mr. Smithfield turned to him, smiling. "I wanted to go out for a ride before dinner, and Jonathan said you'd be free to saddle the horse for me."
"Yes, sir." Derek went to get one of the saddle blankets from the rack on the wall.
As Derek walked back to Blueberry's stall, Mr. Smithfield asked, "I don't recall seeing this horse outside at all."
"Th
at's Mrs. Worthington's horse. She's very old, so she doesn't do much."
"Really?"
Derek unlatched Blueberry's gate and led him out. The horse stamped his feet in a mild protest. Spreading the blanket over his back and patting the horse's side soothingly, he whispered, "Relax. It's nice outside and you get to go out for a walk."
"You are very good with him."
"Blueberry? Oh, he's easy to get along with."
"Are you planning on working with horses when you're older?"
His cheeks coloring a little at how absurd his hope sounded coming from someone else's lips, Derek just mumbled, "I doubt it." He busied himself getting the saddle put on and the straps tightened.
"How long have you lived with the Worthingtons?"
"All my life, as far as I know."
"Do you like it here?"
Derek forced the bit into Blueberry's mouth and pretended not to hear the question.
Mr. Smithfield stepped a little closer and started stroking Blueberry's neck. "I've enjoyed being here. It's nice to be away from the city for a little while."
"Yes, sir," Derek agreed, though he wouldn't know the difference. Smoothing down Blueberry's mane as he looped the reigns up over his head, Derek said, "There you go."
"Thank you."
"Do you know where the trail head is?"
Nodding a little, Mr. Smithfield said, "I believe I remember. Shall I just bring him back here when I'm finished?"
"Yes, sir. I should be here for a little while, but if I'm not, just leave him in his stall and I'll take care of him when I finish my chores."
Mr. Smithfield seemed to want to say something, but decided against it. Nodding a slight thank you, he led the horse outside before mounting him and starting off at a slow walk towards the break in the far trees that led to the riding paths through the woods.
Derek sighed then climbed back up to the loft. Now he'd have to find things to do around the stables until Mr. Smithfield returned. As he thought once more about how similar Mr. Smithfield and Mr. Worthington were, he felt a strange loneliness fill him. It had been a very long time since he'd really thought about Mr. Worthington, and now that he had, he wished the man was still alive.
Do I like it here? he wondered to himself. He sighed, suddenly tired. I can't wait to leave this place. I don't know where I'll go, but it'll be somewhere as far from here as I can get. Maybe I should go to the city. Richmond can't be too far away. I'm sure there must be something there I could do to make a living.
Derek shook his head at himself. Idleness really does foster discontent, he mused. He climbed down the ladder to get the broom. While he was waiting for Mr. Smithfield he could at least sweep up some of the loft; the breeze through the cracks in the wall boards had been spreading hay across the floor in small drifts all week. It was a mess.
When Derek finished sweeping the loft and raking and cleaning Blueberry's stall, he hooked the lead to Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth's bridle and led her out to the corral.
"In you get, old lady," he ordered. Once she was inside, Derek closed and latched the gate. Resting his elbows on the fence, he stood there for several minutes, watching the mare trot happily to her favorite grazing spot on the other side of the corral and begin eating lazily. A cool, clean breeze swept over the field. Derek breathed in deeply, the scent and feel of early summer filling his lungs until he thought they would burst. After a second, he let the breath out slowly then looked around. The sky was bright and the trees seemed greener than they had in a long time.
No humidity, he thought. The air's not hazy out here anymore.
Just as he was turning to go back to the stables to clean out Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth's stall, Mr. Smithfield and Blueberry galloped out of the woods. They crossed the field quickly and Mr. Smithfield halted Blueberry beside the corral.
"Did you have a good ride?" Derek asked, holding the bridle while Mr. Smithfield dismounted.
"Yes, it was very nice. The forests around here are beautiful." Petting the horse, Mr. Smithfield added, "We even found an interesting little place back on the other side of the river."
"Really? I didn't think any of the trails crossed the river," Derek commented.
"I'm not actually sure it was a trail," Mr. Smithfield confessed with a sheepish smile. "I think we may have been a bit lost."
"I'm glad you found your way back, then."
"I am, too."
Derek led Blueberry to the corral gate and opened it. He led him in and hauled the saddle and blanket off his back. He threw the saddle over the fence before walking back out of the gate and latching it. Derek heaved up the saddle and blanket and started to walk back to the stables.
Mr. Smithfield fell in step beside him. "Would you like help?"
"No, thank you," he grunted, shifting the weight. Rethinking, he said, "Unless you'd like to take the blanket. I think it's slipping."
Taking it from Derek, careful not to disrupt the heavy load too much, he asked, "Did you have a good afternoon?"
A little startled at being asked, Derek asked, "Me? Oh, um, yes, sir. I just cleaned up a little."
"Are you usually very busy?"
"Not too much so now." Not wanting to explain that his banishment from the main house had earned him quite a bit of free time, Derek changed the subject. "You're leaving soon, aren't you, sir?"
Mr. Smithfield nodded. "Friday morning. I need to be home for work by Monday."
"Oh." Derek was quiet for a second as he and Mr. Smithfield walked into the shade of the stables. He set the saddle down on the hay bales by the door and took the blanket from Mr. Smithfield. Shifting the blanket from one hand to the other, he said, "Sir?"
"Yes?"
"Does the fact that you're leaving mean Miss Catherine is getting better?"
His breath caught for a moment before Mr. Smithfield said in a measured tone, "She's very sick, Derek."
"Oh."
"She says she's feeling better though."
"That's good. I hope she gets well quickly."
Several seconds of heavy silence followed before Mr. Smithfield said softly, "Thank you. And thank you for taking such good care of the horses. They seem very happy."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. You're welcome."
"I may go out again tomorrow. Take advantage of being here as much as I can before we leave."
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Smithfield smiled and nodded once, then left.
Derek took the blanket down and hung it on the rack, then returned to take care of the saddle. When everything had been put away, he took the rake and started cleaning Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth's stall. Once the stall was raked and fresh hay laid down, Derek went out to the corral.
"All right, you two. Time to go in and get some dinner."
Blueberry trotted over to the gate as if he understood, but Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth, as she had grown accustomed to doing, sauntered back to her grazing spot and glared at Derek, challenging him to try and make her go.
Derek opened the gate and took Blueberry's bridle. "Suit yourself," he called to the mare. "I'm not chasing you."
Blueberry seemed very happy at the idea of going inside. He clopped towards the stables with his head held high.
"Hungry? You've had a long day." Derek thought a moment. "Come to think of it, I'm sort of hungry myself. Wonder where Devon is with the food. He should have brought lunch hours ago. It's almost dinner."
Derek poured oats into Blueberry's trough, then walked out to the knoll and looked down the slope. He couldn't see Devon anywhere, and the carriage house door was closed. After a short debate as to whether or not it would be worth it to get in trouble for being at the house when he shouldn't have been, Derek started down the hill. He was hungry enough to put up with a little lecturing, and, if he was going to be completely honest with himself, he was a little worried about Devon. The man didn't usually want anything to do with the main house, let alone spend the entire afternoon there.
When he reached the dusty drive, Derek strolled
up to the carriage house. Upon discovering everything to be where it was suppose to, he crept up the stairs to the side door. He put his ear to the door and, hearing no one in the hall, slowly pushed it open. Stepping carefully, he slipped down the kitchen stairs as quietly as he could. When he reached the bottom of the stairs he started to let out the breath he'd been holding, but stopped.
Gabriel was sitting at the table with a bowl of strawberries in milk.
"What are you doing in here?"
"Me?" Gabriel asked, putting his spoon down and glancing at the bowl guiltily. "Nothing. What about you? You're not even supposed to be in the house."
"What's it matter to you what I'm supposed to do?" Derek walked farther into the kitchen, looking around for the basket Beth always put the food in.
"Mother said if I saw you inside I was suppose to tell her," Gabriel replied almost apologetically.
"So tell her," Derek sneered, not believing the other boy actually would.
"Derek, just leave before you get in trouble."
Derek snorted. "Why do you suddenly care so much?"
Sounding as if he were trying to reason with an impudent child, Gabriel explained in an exasperated tone, "It upsets Mother, and that upsets the whole household."
Glaring, Derek retorted, "Then don't tell her. Besides, I'm just here for me and Devon's dinner."
"He knows better than to send you for it."
For the first time, Derek thought Gabriel might just be serious about having to tell Mrs. Worthington he'd seen him. Annoyed, he snapped, "He didn't send me for it. I haven't seen him all day, and, quite frankly, I'm getting sick of waiting to eat." Finally spotting the basket with its blue towel tucked over the top of its contents, Derek said, "See? Now I'm leaving. No harm."
