Corner Of The Housetop: Buried Secrets

by Leen Elle

  "Liar!" Whatever the woman was thinking, she must have forgotten their guest: Mr. Todd jumped at her hawkish screech.

  He was angry at himself as soon as he said it, but the answer had slipped out in his daze and it was no good pretending now. "On a painting," Derek explained. "In the attic."

  "You can't read!"

  Ignoring his mother's protests, Jonathan turned to her with a furious expression. "You kept that painting?" His voice was shaking. "You told me you burned it!"

  "It's none of your business what I do with my own things!"

  "It wasn't yours. It was Father's!" Now Jonathan was yelling, too.

  Gabriel watched the two with confusion and something akin to fear while Mr. Todd stared at the ground, obviously embarrassed for himself and them that he was witnessing this familial exchange.

  "Your father is dead, which makes it mine," she hissed spitefully.

  "No, it makes it mine!" he corrected harshly. "And you knew I wanted to keep it!" Jonathan's fists clenched and flexed as if he longed to strangle her.

  The two glared at each other for several seconds, neither able to speak. Just as Mrs. Worthington opened her mouth to retort, Beth appeared at the crest of the little knoll. She was running, her eyes wide and terrified.

  "Master Worthington! Come quick!"

  Mrs. Worthington turned, prepared to rage at anyone who moved or spoke. "What are you—"

  "Catherine?" Jonathan grew more pale as he watched Beth nod, her expression and gestures frantic.

  "Please come quick!"

  Leaving Mrs. Worthington to gape wordlessly, Jonathan sprinted towards the house. "Saddle the horse! Send for the doctor!" he yelled back to no one in particular.

  Gabriel stood uselessly, staring. Mrs. Worthington made angry choking noises as if she'd swallowed her tongue.

  His own shock wearing off, Derek grabbed Blueberry's lead and started to climb over the fence. A firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.

  "My horse will be faster," Mr. Todd stated as he jumped the fence easily, then ran to the stables.

  Dropping the lead, Derek went to the gate, ready to open it for him when he came out. The minutes that passed while the man saddled his horse stretched to hours. Derek fidgeted and cast impatient looks towards the door then back towards the house. Mrs. Worthington was finally understanding what was happening and started down the little hill in a clumsy half-jog.

  "Derek, what's—" As Gabriel started, Sky darted out of the stable door.

  Derek opened the gate, then closed it after the horse passed. He turned, expecting the man to be gone. Instead, Sky was cantering impatiently a few feet away, Mr. Todd leaning down with his hand out to Derek as if to help him up.

  "You know the way, right?" he demanded.

  "Y-yes." Leaving Gabriel, Derek took Mr. Todd's hand and pulled himself onto the horse behind him. He'd never really ridden before, but this was not the time to be worried about that. Clinging to Mr. Todd, he said, "It's up the road towards town!"

  At a slight twitch of Mr. Todd's heels, Sky bolted down the hill, cutting across the wide lawn and bursting onto the road. The distance that seemed to take forever to travel in the carriage on Sunday morning melted away beneath them.

  The smooth, rhythmic shifting of sculpted muscle beneath him made Derek nervous and exhilarated. He was terrified of being thrown off, but his worry for Catherine pulsed through him, numbing him of any awareness except for the flying landscape. When he spotted a broad, twisted trees, he called, "Turn left after that tree, then it's only a half mile up that road!" As they turned, Derek leaned, clinging more tightly.

  In minutes, they were there. Sky had barely stopped when Mr. Todd pushed Derek off and towards the door. Stumbling a little, Derek caught his footing and ran to the step. He beat on the door with his fist. "Doc Crawford! Doctor!"

  Several seconds passed as he continued to pound, his fist growing sore. When the door opened, Dr. Crawford looked alarmed. "Derek? You should not even be out of—"

  "It's Catherine! Something's happened and you need to come now!"

  "Oh, my!" Dr. Crawford ran into the house and returned a moment later with his black medical bag. "Go ahead! I'll be there shortly after you!"

  Climbing back onto the horse, Derek wrapped his arms around Mr. Todd, ready for the ride home. They raced back up the road and down the worn main street. Wind whipped at Derek's face and he ducked lower behind the man, closing his eyes: he'd refused to before in case he missed telling Mr. Todd where to turn.

  They reached the house as quickly as they'd reached the doctor's and Mr. Todd jumped down as they approached the porch. "Tie her up!" he ordered, running up the porch, taking the steps two at a time.

  His whole body shaking, Derek slid off Sky and brought her to the post at the bottom of the porch steps. As soon as he finished tying the reigns, Dr. Crawford appeared at the end of the drive. He, too, jumped off his horse, tossed the reigns to Derek, and dashed up the steps.

  Tying the second horse was more difficult because his hands had begun to shake even worse. Derek swore under his breath and started the knot a third time. When it was secured, he ran up the steps and into the house. Gabriel, Mr. Todd, and Mrs. Worthington were gathered at the foot of the main staircase.

  "Is she all right?" Derek asked breathlessly.

  "Don't you dare demand things of me in that tone!" Mrs. Worthington answered.

  Derek didn't bother hiding his glare. He snapped, "Maybe if you kept me informed of your own accord I wouldn't feel the need to make demands!"

  The woman looked furious and surely would have struck him if Mr. Todd hadn't interrupted in firm but calm voice, "None of this arguing is helping. We are all worried and tense."

  Quelled, if only for the moment, Mrs. Worthington sniffed and stomped up the hall to the sitting room.

  Gabriel was still standing with his round fingers clutched around the banister. His eyes were red as though he'd been crying. Derek couldn't help but view him with some small measure of contempt, finally understanding how truly helpless and childlike the boy was.

  Rubbing his eyes, Derek sat on the bottom stair and peered at the floor, wishing he could do something, or even that he knew something. Were they too late? Did it even matter, since she'd been dying for months? He felt sick and dizzy and he was positive it had nothing to do with his scant eating.

  The minutes stretched to hours. Gabriel joined his mother in the sitting room. Mr. Todd paced, then took a seat in the dining room. Derek watched the man sit stiffly, not really seeing anything. Every fifteen minutes Beth would rush down the stairs for more water, but she was in too much of a hurry to give news.

  Two hours had passed and a third was mostly gone and Derek still had not moved from the stairs. All was silent upstairs. He thought of pretending to go to his room, but he didn't dare interrupt in case things went wrong because of him. He waited, his arms and legs tense as though he was still on the racing horse, praying not to fall off.

  When the clock struck five he began to pray. He wasn't sure he was doing it right because he couldn't make himself close his eyes or clasp his hands, but he thought in his mind every prayer he could think of, including the Lord's Prayer, just because he knew God had to listen to that one if none of the others.

  When the clock struck six Derek looked around, noticing that Beth had not been by for water at all in the hour. Shuffling footsteps came from above. Several more minutes passed then the click and creak of a door opening reached Derek's ears. Unable to wait any longer, he stood and walked up the stairs.

  Beth and Atty were in the hallway. Atty was sobbing silently, rubbing her face with her dirty apron as Beth tried to comfort her.

  Derek was numb and he was sure he would fall over, but he didn't. His legs brought him to the closed door of Catherine's room on their own. He heard deep, anguished sobs from behind it and recalled the last time he'd heard Jonathan crying. What had he been crying about? Had he known even then that his beautiful wife was dying?
When she asked him what was the matter did he feel like his heart was being ripped out because he knew but dared not tell her? Or had she known, too?

  His dizziness suddenly overtaking him, Derek sunk to the floor and covered his face with his hands. He cried and felt helpless and childish.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Tuesday night passed, slow and sleepless. There was a nearly constant rustle of movement in the hallway and Derek could do little more than lie on his back and stare at the ceiling. It was as if time had stopped and when the light of morning crept into the room it seemed fake and cold. When he finally forced himself to get up, breakfast was far past and none of the family or Mr. Todd was anywhere to be seen.

  Wandering out onto the porch, Derek stopped when he saw Gabriel sitting on the bench. "'Morning," he muttered.

  "'Morning." The boy looked as though he had not slept either.

  "Where's everyone?"

  "Mr. Todd and Jonathan are at the cemetery plot, digging. Mother went to town with Devon to buy a coffin and a nice dress."

  A coffin and a nice dress? Derek wondered, mildly shocked at the morbid imagery. Recalling Devon's absence from the stables, he asked, "Do you know where Devon is staying now?"

  "Jonathan is having two new slave houses constructed behind the strawberry field. One is finished so Devon is staying there."

  "Slave houses?"

  Gabriel nodded. "He's been making plans to go to Charleston and buy three or four more."

  "Why?"

  "Because we need them?" Gabriel suggested obviously, as though Derek was stupid.

  Derek had noticed a lack in hands, but it just seemed odd. In fourteen years there hadn't been any new slaves. What will they do with me when they have more slaves? he wondered. He could not imagine Mrs. Worthington would keep him when all of his chores could be handed out to less demanding help. Of course, Jonathan was obviously assuming his position as master of the plantation, and so Mrs. Worthington's desires were of no more account than suggestion in her son's ear. Perhaps the man would see fit to keep him….

  After a moment, Derek muttered something about horses and started down the steps and across the yard at a slow pace.

  Climbing the knoll at a short distance from the trees, he scanned the open strawberry field for signs of new buildings. All the way at the far end stood a small shack beside which stood the frame of what would be a second. Derek walked towards the structures, wondering how many new slaves there would be. The buildings were small, but Derek knew slave quarters weren't built for comfort. Six could fit in the finished one, and probably the same in the other. Would he be made to move out there and live in one of those tiny houses?

  His insides churning with discomfort, Derek turned from the sight and started away from the field. He considered going to the family cemetery and offering to help, but thought better of interrupting Jonathan and stopped when he reached the stables.

  As he leaned on the fence post, he watched the moving figures of the two men from across the wide field. Derek had never visited the little fenced plot by the edge of the forest where Jeremiah Worthington was buried, and it seemed odd to him that anyone would visit a grave. He had pleasant memories of the man's caring face and did not want to replace them with one of a cold, gray stone and dead flowers.

  The mare, who had not yet been named, cantered towards him. She pushed her nose into his outstretched hand.

  "Still no sugar," Derek told her dejectedly. "Maybe later." Rubbing her nose absently his thoughts returned to the previous day.

  No one had mentioned Kylie Mae in the wake of Catherine's death, but her name hung in the air like a fog of tension. She seemed to hover and watch the proceedings as if waiting for her turn to be the focus of attention. Derek wished he would dream of her again. He hated the dreams because of the forest and its night creatures, but it had been many days since he'd seen her. Why hadn't she called to him again?

  Derek stood there until the shapes of the men in the cemetery began to stir and emerge from the fenced area. They moved across the field with slow steps. As they neared the corral, Jonathan looked up at Derek. His face was pale, his features drawn with strain. He seemed not to see Derek, looking through him and then past him as he continued to walk silently.

  Mr. Todd afforded Derek a slight nod and followed his friend.

  Later that afternoon the wagon returned with Devon, Mrs. Worthington, and a large load covered by a burlap blanket. Seeing their arrival, Derek sauntered towards the house. A she went, he mused over the quiet day. Even the weather was mild and seemed sad.

  When he reached the porch, he asked, "Should I help unload the wagon?" It was the first time he'd seen Devon since the attic and he was curious as to how the man would react to him.

  Looking down at him, Devon said in a rusty voice, "Might's well. It's goin' in the parlor."

  It took Derek, Devon, Mr. Todd and Jonathan to move the long, narrow casket, but eventually they managed to get it into the room at the end of the downstairs hall. The parlor had been rearranged, the chairs and couch pushed against the wall. There was a low stand for the casket to set on and a small table by the door with a guest book for those who visited.

  Derek felt deeply disturbed as they finished setting the casket. It had been strange enough to know Catherine's body was still in the bed in her room upstairs, but when she was dressed and moved to the parlor for visitors it would be impossible not to see her every time he left or entered the house.

  "Thank you for your help, Eli."

  "It's no problem at all. I wish I could do more."

  Jonathan wiped his forehead and asked, "Will you stay until the funeral?"

  "I'd hate to impose."

  "It wouldn't be an imposition. As long as your father doesn't need you home until the weekend."

  Mr. Todd shook his head. "It should be fine. I have two brothers still at home—Evan and Michael—and my mother and sister are fairly helpful. Ann's eleven now and can manage most of the house chores, which frees Mum to tend the garden."

  "Is there anything else you need?" Derek interrupted. He wanted to leave the room. The smell of the pine was making his nose itch and his stomach turn.

  Looking at him as though he'd forgotten he was there, Jonathan stared for a second then said, "No, thank you." His tone was worn.

  As he left the room Derek heard Mr. Todd comment, "For a stable boy he spends a lot of time in the house."

  Derek didn't hear the response. He went up the servant's stairs—he did not have to pass Catherine's room from that end of the hall—and into his bedroom. Sitting down with a sigh, he took the books from under his pillow and started flipping through one of them. Musing at his good luck that Mrs. Worthington had not continued on the line of his sudden ability to read, Derek settled on a story and began deciphering the words.

  The hours passed quickly and before he'd finished learning what happened to the shepherd boy who went into the enchanted mountains to find his lost sheep there was a light knock on his door. Sliding the book under his pillow out of habit, his called, "Come in."

  Beth entered. She looked tired. "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes."

  Derek nodded.

  "Are you feeling better?"

  "Mostly. How are you?"

  She shrugged a little. "We're dressin' Missus Worthington tonight." She said it as though it should have been a conversation starter, but the comment only left a still coldness in the air. "Well, I'll see you downstairs."

  When she was gone Derek lied back on the bed. He didn't feel like eating. He didn't feel like sitting at the table with Jonathan and listening to tense conversation, or making tense conversation.

  Derek waited another five minutes before standing and leaving the room. He walked towards the servant stairs, but stopped when he heard noise from Beth and Atty's room. They should have been downstairs, setting up for dinner. The door was ajar and Derek pushed it lightly to open it farther. He peered in cautiously and was surprised to see the attic doo
r open. What would someone be doing up there?

  Derek crept into the room and peered up the stairs. A wave nausea swept over him at the stench of rot and mold. He covered his mouth with his hand and swallowed the feeling, his curiosity greater than his trepidation. He took the lamp from the low table by the mattresses and used it to secure the door from closing by accident then started up the stairs with light steps.

  When he could see the attic floor he leaned forward, peering around the corner for the source of the sound. A dull glow came from the right side of the room: a lit candle sat on top of an uncovered desk. One of the drawers was pulled open. Casting his eyes to the left of the room, Derek spotted the cause of the noise: Jonathan was just barely visible, half wedged between a tall bookshelf and a gilded full-length mirror. Wondering what the man was doing, Derek leaned farther, his arm resting on a creaky board.

  Jonathan turned at the sound. "What are you doing up here?" he demanded, extracting himself from the corner with ease.

  "I heard a noise and wondered if someone needed help getting something," he explained in a ready half-truth.

  With a glare, Jonathan stalked across the room, deposited something in the open drawer, closed it, and said, "Go downstairs." He marched towards the stairs and Derek retreated, barely staying ahead of the man as they entered the hall. "Do not go in the attic again." With that, Jonathan strode to the main staircase and disappeared.

  Peering back into the bedroom, Derek felt troubled and torn. It should have been the easiest order he'd ever had to follow as he had no desire to be in the attic, but the very fact that he'd been told to stay out piqued his curiosity. Maybe it was nothing, but what was Jonathan looking for? The painting he seemed to want so badly?

  Trying to push away the disturbing curiosity, sure it could only get him into trouble, especially with Jonathan so on edge already, Derek walked down the small staircase and to the dining room.

  Mrs. Worthington glared as he entered and took his seat, the meal already served and, no doubt, well-blessed. "How kind of you to join us."