Corner of the Housetop: Buried Secrets (33 page)

"I have had it with you speaking to me in such a tone! In my own home! And after all I've done for you. Taking you in. Rearranging my house to accommodate your wife." Her voice dropped and she hissed, "Your father would turn over in his grave to hear you speak to your own mother that way."

Derek waited for Jonathan to point out that it was actually
his
house and that she was the one being disrespectful, but cowed by familiar guilt, the man's answer came out much differently:

There was a moment of heavy silence, then Jonathan spoke, his tone even and subdued. "I didn't mean to seem ungrateful. I couldn't thank you enough for what you've done for Catherine. And me. But I have told you how I feel about the situation with Derek."

"You've told me how Catherine feels about the situation. Are you really going to be manipulated away from common sense by a woman with no knowledge of the issues she's expressing opinions about?"

His voice once again strong, Jonathan warned, "That was not called for. And they aren't only her opinions. I agree, and I do know the issues." His last statement sounded more like a threat than a proclamation.

Changing her tone, Mrs. Worthington attacked from a different side, her words sharp and cruel: "What would your father think of your behavior?"

"If we're going to start on that line," he said without accusation, "what would Father think of
your
behavior?"

A pause.

"Such ingratitude! Such disrespect! I shall not stand for it!"

"Mother " Jonathan began consolingly.

"I only pray," Mrs. Worthington cut in calmly, "that someday the good Lord will forgive you for this behavior."

The tension heightened and Derek leaned closer, anxious to hear the reply.

After what seemed like hours, Jonathan, his voice shaking, said, "And I pray that someday He will forgive you."

CRACK!
The harsh sound of flesh violently meeting flesh rang through the air. Derek flinched at the sound.

"Get…out…of…my…sight!" Mrs. Worthington bit out in broken syllables that shook with rage.

Derek hurried to the side door before either of them caught him in the hall. He stepped out into the humid day and, despite the oppressive heat and the throbbing pain in his back, ran across the wide lawn to the stables. By the time he climbed up to the loft and collapsed on his bed, he felt like his lungs would burst from the exertion and humidity. His mind raced and the sound of his rushing pulse pounded in his ears until he could hear nothing but the heavy, rapid drumming.

"
Find me!"

"Help!" Derek yelled, starting from his dream, gulping the heavy afternoon air. He felt like he was going to drown.

It had been a while since he'd dreamed about the girl in the attic, and this time he didn't make it through the woods to the glowing field with the little pond before the night creatures caught up to him.

Still breathing heavily, Derek looked around the loft. Judging by the sunlight on the floor, it was well passed noon. He didn't remember falling asleep.

Taking one last, deep breath and wincing at the pain it brought to his back, Derek breathed out slowly and sat up. He felt the paste-soaked bandages, thick and sticky from mixing with his sweat, slide down his back a little. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it in the corner. Reaching around behind him, he peeled the mass of fabric off then searched for some place to set it. Spotting the burlap grain sacks, he stood up and took one. Stuffing the sticky fabric in it, he went to pick up his shirt. With the bag in one hand and his shirt balled up in the other, he climbed down the ladder. As he passed the waste barrel, he dropped the bag in it and stepped out into the sunlight, shielding his eyes.

When he didn't see Devon, Derek started across the lawn towards the back of the house. A swim still sounded good and he wanted to wash the rest of the melting paste off his back and shirt.

Ducking through the bushes, Derek started down the path to the river. As he went, the rushing of the water grew louder and his pace quickened. The ointment was starting to make him itch and he wanted to rinse it off before the temptation to scratch it became too demanding.

Reaching the edge of the river, Derek kicked off his shoes and set his shirt on the rock. Sitting, he pulled off his socks and put them in his shoes.

Find me.

Derek shivered as he recalled the wisps of dream that hadn't vanished with waking. He couldn't remember exactly how it had ended, but he did remember running through the woods. At one point he'd splashed through the river, hoping the night creatures would lose his scent in the water. It had been a vain hope. They still caught him….

Derek shook his head to clear the thoughts. It was silly to be frightened of nightmares. Besides, it was still day light out. Night creatures wouldn't be out for hours.

He shook his head again, then picked up his shirt and waded into the running water. He felt instantly cool. Squatting by a patch of algae-covered rocks, he dipped his shirt in the water and scrubbed the folds of fabric against each other. Flecks of paste came loose and floated away in the current. When the shirt was as clean as he could get it in the cool water, Derek stepped back into the rich mud of the bank and spread it over the rock to dry. Returning to the river, he started the walk towards the swimming hole.

The walk went quickly, the current pushing him along. When he reached the pool, Derek walked cautiously towards the deeper side. As the cold water rose up to his back he winced, then, taking a deep breath, plunged himself under the water. He stayed there for as long as his burning lungs would allow, then broke through the water's surface, gasping for air.

The water numbed his wounds.

Sighing, Derek leaned back, dipping his back into the slow current once more. Between the cool bath and the ointment, he guessed he should be back to near-perfect by the next morning.

When he'd spent as much time as he could stand in the cold water, he climbed onto one of the smaller rocks in the middle of the water and pulled his knees up to his chest. He sat like that with the sun on his back for what felt like hours, thinking.

Jonathan's strange. I can't tell what he's thinking any more. And Mrs. Worthington…. I don't get it.

A small, brown bird flew overhead, chirping loudly. It landed on a blackberry bush on the bank.

I can't wait until he leaves and things go back to normal.
"
If
he leaves," he muttered to himself.
He had better leave. I wonder if they'll go even if Catherine doesn't get better.
Derek tipped his head back and watched the lazy clouds sailing on a breeze so far above him that he did not benefit from its effects.
But if she doesn't get better, then she'll be

Forcing himself not to finish the thought, Derek stood suddenly and jumped back into the river, regretting it almost immediately. The sudden cold shocked his muscles and they tensed, flexing and flinching in ways that reopened his wounds.

"You aren't going to get better doing stupid things like that," he admonished himself. Feeling sleepy and tired of being alone, Derek started making his way back upstream. He was only bleeding a little and he was sure it would stop before long.

I wonder what the issues are that Catherine doesn't know about,
he mused, catching himself as he slipped on a rock. "It was probably just Mrs. Worthington trying to make Jonathan angry. That was a weird thing to say otherwise."

He refused to think about how close he might have been to learning some of the answers he'd wondered about for years. That would be too painful.

When he got back to the path, Derek climbed out of the water and picked up his shirt and shoes. Walking lazily, feeling no compulsion to be anywhere in particular, he wound his way up the path and through the bushes. He kept his leisurely pace as he climbed the little knoll and crossed to the stables. When he swung the door open, he saw Gabriel standing by Blueberry's stall, gloomily petting the horse's nose.

"What are you doing here?"

"My stables," Gabriel answered with half-hearted annoyance. "I can be here if I want."

Derek shrugged one shoulder and walked passed Gabriel to the ladder.

"Got you good, huh?"

"A bit," Derek said matter-of-factly as he climbed, not bothering to be embarrassed at the other boy seeing the evidence of his punishment. They'd shared too much in the past for any nonsense like that now. He was taking out his clean socks when he heard Gabriel's slow steps climbing the ladder behind him. Sighing, Derek went to hang his damp shirt over the pulley arm.

Gabriel looked around the loft for a second before stepping off the ladder. "This is nice."

Derek shrugged again and sat on his bed. "I don't mind it."

Out of nowhere, Gabriel said, "Mrs. Clayton won't let Aniline come to visit any more."

Derek pulled on his socks and reached for his shoes. "Are you mad at me for it?"

"I was," he confessed.

"Better off without her."

"She was sort of nice when other people weren't around."

Smirking, Derek said slyly, "I saw you two kissing the week she came for tea after church."

Gabriel turned red. "She's the one who kissed me," he muttered.

Derek laughed a little.

"I'll still see her at church."

Looking at Gabriel thoughtfully, he asked, "Do you really like her?"

"She's nice."

"What about Anthony?"

"Haven't really seen him outside church. We don't really talk anymore."

"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not," Derek replied flatly.

For a moment Gabriel didn't respond. He looked around, his eyes falling first on the drying shirt, then on Derek's bare, sunburned chest. "Don't you have anything else to put on?"

"Hm? Oh. No. My other shirt got ruined at the party."

"I have some you can have. Mother has to buy me new ones for school anyway."

Derek's brow creased. "School?"

"Yeah. She wants me to go to Richmond starting this winter. Same school Jonathan went to." He didn't sound very excited.

"I thought she wanted you to stay home forever."

Gabriel shrugged. "I think it was Jonathan's idea at first. He must have persuaded her somehow."

Derek studied him with a closed expression.

After a second, Gabriel stood up. "I'll go get those shirts."

"All right." Derek watched Gabriel disappear over the edge, then looked around his loft. His eyes fell on the small stack of books, pad, and pencils on top of his trunk. He glared at them, frustration burning in his chest. The idea that he could ever learn anything, or hope to leave that terrible place suddenly seemed laughable, and he wanted to pretend he'd never thought up such a stupid idea.

I'm gonna be here forever.
He thought of Devon.
I'm gonna be here 'til I'm so old and useless I can't do anything but gripe and boss other people around.

With a careless swipe of his arm, Derek sent his books tumbling off the chest and his pencils skittering across the hay-strewn floor, one of them rolling off the edge of the loft and plinking off of something metal far below.