Corner of the Housetop: Buried Secrets by Leen Elle Page A

to him for me. It's his lunch."
    He took the basket. "Why doesn't he ever come up here?"
    "He hasn't ever since I've been here. Just to pick up his supper some times when I can't bring it to him."
    "Maybe the old bat's scared him off."
    "Mrs. Worthington is—"
    "Kind and generous and godly and perfect," he cut her off, walking towards the stairs. "I know, I know." Taking the stairs two at a time before Beth could yell at him, Derek smirked to himself. "She's a regular candidate for sainthood," he thought. "God himself should be so lucky as to be as great and good as Mrs. Worthington," he muttered.
    As he went out the door and around the back of the house, Derek saw Jonathan walking by the bush that hid the head of his and Gabriel's secret path to the river. As far as Derek knew, Jonathan had never been made aware of it. The river was where the younger boys sneaked off to when they thought Jonathan was being too bossy.
    Perfectly content to ignore the fact that Jonathan was even there, and fairly sure that he felt the same way in return, Derek was caught off guard when the man turned to him and said, "Good morning."
    Really looking at him, Derek couldn't help but note that Jonathan seemed exhausted and run-down. His eyes were red with lack of sleep and his face was pale. His hands, hanging at his sides, were shaking slightly. He looked as if he hadn't gone to bed or eaten a decent meal in days.
    "Morning," Derek said, nodding slightly as he continued by.
    When he got back to the stable, he walked in and set Devon's lunch on a stack of boxes near the door. Blueberry and Devon were gone, leaving him alone to start on the rest of the cleaning with no company other than Mrs. Worthington's glaring mare. Derek raked the drifts of hay out of the unused stalls, ignoring Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth's snorting and huffing. Just as he was finishing, the wagon, pulled by Blueberry, rattled to a stop outside the door.
    Devon walked in, his feet shuffling across the floor. "You can put all the trash in the back of the wagon."
    "All right. I just got back from breakfast. Beth sent your lunch." He nodded towards the basket. "She asked if I would help her pick the strawberries so I'll be heading off after I finish here."
    Busy peeking under the towel, Devon just grunted in acknowledgment.
    Before he could accidentally annoy the old man into giving him more work, Derek climbed back into the loft and opened the doors at the end where the bales of hay were lifted. He piled the scrap metal, rusty tools, and broken crates on the wooden pallet, then hooked the pulley ropes through the rings on the corners.
    "I'm lowering the platform so watch out it if you go outside!" he called.
    "You be careful! If you ain't got that balanced out, you'll be dumpin' that stuff all over the ground! And watch you don' hit anythin'!"
    "I know," he said to himself. Lifting the platform a few inches off the ground proved to be more difficult that he thought it would be. After several tries, he finally got it high enough to loop the rope over the swing arm and push it around out the door.
    Lowering the platform was much easier. So much easier in fact, that it went half way down completely on its own after Derek lost his grip on the rope.
    "What you tryin' to do, boy? Damn near dropped that right on the horse!"
    "Sorry. The rope slipped—"
    "There you go bein' sorry again! 'Sorry' wouldn' a helped this horse if you dropped that on his head!"
    If it weren't for Derek being so annoyed with Devon, the sight of him trying to jump up and down, and wave the rake at the same time would have been comical.
    How many marks against me does that make? he wondered, climbing down to load the stuff from the platform to the wagon. When he got outside Devon was still yelling, brandishing the rake at Derek.
    "You'd think you didn't have a thought in your head, boy! What were you thinking? Nothin', that's what!"
    Derek just walked around him and started putting the crates on the wagon. He liked