Journals of the Secret Keeper Read online

  Sometimes Martha would join her in her room or on the porch. She was fast becoming dear to Willetta. She found that it was easier to forgive her grandmother the more she read the journals. Martha's mother's upbringing was thoroughly unorthodox from its beginning to its end. The journal indicated an outrageous level of eccentricity in both William and Etta Thompson, which had to have had adverse effects on the children. If Adam and Eve's sins could still cause ruination and calamity so many years after their deaths, surely William And Etta's sins were still looming large and monstrously over them all. Willetta often found herself shuddering as she read the pages of William's journals.

  He was a very fearful man. He married a woman he thought was smart and would

  complement him. Instead she turned out to be monster. In the end he was no longer sure if their only child's death had been an accident or not. He seemed completely baffled at the unending limits of Etta's "evilness." His only comfort had been Sylvia Jean, the baby they had adopted. He wrote in one passage, "Sylvia is my only link to a world of rightmindedness. When I look in her eyes, I see goodness and saneness. I know where she came from and that's a sureness that I hold dear. I can't love babies that gone be taken away any day. Those babies don't belong to us."

  Willetta's heart went out to William Thompson. He'd been dead over seventy years, but she still felt sadness for the torture he must have endured. She wondered how many nights he lay in bed under this same roof in morbid fear of his wife's next insane move.

  CHAPTER 28

  The day of the funeral came. Willetta dressed in a simple knee-length black dress with sheer and black satin pantyhose, and black opentoed pumps. Her jewelry was simple as was normal for her and consisted of diamond-studded earrings and a heart-shaped pendant necklace. The forecast called for rain, so she didn't bother rolling her hair. She parted it at the side and neatly brushed it all to the back where she pinned it up in a neat little chignon. Lip gloss, brown eyeliner and a dust of facial powder finished her toilette. She was perfect except for the black eye and cut cheek.

  Martha surprised both Andrik and Willetta by coming out with teeth in her mouth and a very serviceable black dress on her body.

  #

  The day before a man had arrived to pick up Aunt Octavia and Olivia's luggage. He had deposited Martha's suitcases in the kitchen with a note from Aunt Olivia saying that she was welcome to ride back with the driver if she wanted to come back to her house to stay.

  "I ain't going nowhere near that Octavia and that psychotic, Olivia," she said flatly. "They should have stayed on in Georgia."

  "What part of Georgia," Willetta had quickly asked.

  "Atlanta," Martha said.

  Willetta felt the goose bumps rise on her skin. Could it be a coincidence? If it wasn't, she wasn't ready to hear it. So, she kept silent and didn't ask another question. Martha was so happy to get her luggage that she was too preoccupied to notice Willetta's disturbed countenance. She hobbled up the stairs behind Andrik as he took her luggage up and disappeared for hours until dinner.

  #

  Andrik was tall and handsome in his black suit and he knew it. His body filled the suit in a way it hadn't before coming back to Mississippi. Even though he hated coming home, he had to admit the fresh air and the slower pace had done him some good. Not to mention the hard work renovating the house. It was that work which had put muscle on him like he'd never had before.

  Martha was unashamedly enthralled with Andrik. Ever since he'd beaten the pulp out of Damion, she'd been pampering him in every way possible. She was aware of the tension between him and Willetta, but had found her own place amidst the dissension. So, when Andrik came downstairs looking like a male model, she was ready with words.

  "My lord, Andrik! Ain't you something to see? These old eyes of mine still know dapper when she see it. Your granddaddy was dapper just like this," she said as she tugged on his arm and forced him to make a circle for her.

  "Martha, we're going to Mama Jean's funeral, not a prom. Please pull yourself together," Andrik said stiltedly. He was obviously

  uncomfortable with the attention.

  "I wish Rick was here to see this. You look more like him than Richard did," she said, as she looked him up and down.

  Willetta stood by the door waiting. Andrik's appearance was breathtaking. She tried not to look, but everything female about her was involuntarily drawn to him. He was the man and she was the woman and that seemed to be all there was to it. #

  The parking lot was full. It seemed someone with a huge family had passed away. Cars were everywhere. Andrik eventually had to let Willetta and Martha out at the door and then go in search of a parking spot. There was none to be found. He parked two blocks away and walked the distance back to the funeral home.

  He made very little eye contact as he walked. His mind was on Mama Jean and all she had done for him. She had definitely acted like a grandmother, but to withhold the truth of her relationship to him seemed implausible. Andrik had a niggling thought that the situation was much more complicated than he could imagine on his own. He needed her journals. The inquisition was running through his blood and veins and he would never rest until he knew the truth.

  The fact that Willetta, a woman he desired above and beyond all others, was the obstacle to his truth was tortuous and unbearable. His irritation and frustration knew no bounds. If he could see what others saw at this very moment, he would see a man with a fierce expression on his face, fists balled at his side, and a frown deep enough to hold liquid.

  CHAPTER 29

  Willetta was in total disbelief. If she had even the inclination to imagine what the funeral would be like, she never would have come up with this. There were wall to wall people in the conference room where Mama Jean's funeral was to be held. Willetta searched the room for familiar faces and as in an eerie trance realized that some of the faces were indeed familiar, but just as when one comes home after many years away, it was hard to put anyone in their proper place. She saw Aunt Olivia, Octavia, and Olivia sitting towards the front of the throng of people.

  "Willetta," a deep voice said, "I bet you don't remember me."

  Willetta and Martha turned to stare at the young man standing behind them. Words failed her as she looked at him. She could never have forgotten his face in a million years. She lifted her hand and placed it on the side of his arm and squeezed.

  "Sammy, what are you doing here," she asked.

  "Well, that's the warmest hello, I've ever heard. I haven't seen you in eight years and that's the best you can do?" he asked laughingly.

  Willetta stood back and looked him up and down. He was ten years old the last time she saw him. Eight years had changed him from a boy to a man. He was tall and built like a linebacker.

  "Wow, you look like a football player," she said incredulously.

  "I am. I play for the University of Alabama," he said. His eyes rested on Martha and he smiled.

  Willetta said, "Excuse me, Martha. This is Sammy. I lived with his family in Atlanta, Georgia after I left here. His parents took me in. How are they?" Willetta asked breathlessly. She was trying to make sense out of seeing Sammy here at Mama Jean's funeral, but nothing remotely sensible came to mind.

  Sammy ignored her and reached his hand out to Martha. Willetta fell silent at his unabashed interest in Martha. He was staring at her almost reverently.

  "Mama Jean told us about you. Your grandmother was my great great grandmother. We know all about how your momma was stolen from her bed by crazy Aunt Etta."

  "You mean to tell me that I'm looking at some of my momma's real people?" Martha's voice trembled.

  "Yes ma'am. Mable Tucker was my great great grandmother and was your momma's grandmother. It's confusing when you really think about it, but I believe your mother was my great grandmother's sister. I know they named your momma Willetta, but her real name was Sadie Tucker. No one ever knew what happened to Sadie until Willetta ran away from Mississippi. Momma Jean found the family and l
et them know what Etta had done almost a hundred years ago and said Willetta was Sadie's great grandchild. She asked the family to take her in. I was too young to understand all of it back then, but I do know there was a huge fight over who would take her in and my momma and daddy won."

  Sammy and Martha were holding hands throughout his recital of the past. Tears spilled down Martha's face and her lips trembled, "I wish momma could have lived to see some of yall. She knew the truth and it made her sad."

  Sammy gathered Martha into his arms and kissed her cheek tenderly. Willetta watched it all through a haze of incredulity. Mama Jean's resourcefulness went without saying. She had found Willetta's own relatives to raise her, but had failed to let her know this and somehow had induced them to keep quiet about it.

  "Sammy why didn't you tell me," she asked.

  Sammy let Martha go and looked down into Willetta's dark brown eyes. He'd always known she was his cousin, but he'd never been oblivious to her good looks. She was a beauty in every way possible. Her long hair and flawless brown skin were still the same, but her eyes were darker and mystical and her body had grown into that of a woman.

  "Momma and daddy would have beaten me to death. I knew when to keep my mouth shut," he said.

  Willetta stared up into Sammy's eyes and marveled at the change. "Where are Rochelle, Tracie, and Kim," she asked.

  "Everybody is here. Momma and daddy are up towards the front. There are twenty-five of us in all that traveled from Georgia for the funeral," he said.

  #

  Andrik entered the room and looked around. He frowned. There was no accounting for the amount of people. Mama Jean rarely had company and never ever left her home. Who were these people? He spotted Willetta staring up into the face of a handsome young man he'd never seen before. His frown deepened and without a second thought his feet moved in her direction. Andrik was upon them in a second.

  The young man was taller and wider than him. Andrik felt a twinge of jealousy and fought to compress it. This was not the time or the place for such a mundane emotion.

  "Andrik, meet my great great nephew, Sammy," Martha said. "He's here from Atlanta, Georgia. Ain't he handsome," she said proudly.

  It occurred to Andrik that Martha was a fickle old woman. She had been mooning over him in much the same way before they left the house. Did she say nephew? He and the young man shared a firm handshake.

  Willetta put her hand on Sammy's arm and turned toward Andrik, "He was ten when I last saw him. I lived with his family when I left Mississippi. I didn't know until now that they were relatives. Mama Jean arranged it without telling me

  anything," she explained.

  Andrik's eyes narrowed upon Sammy. He wondered how much the young man really knew. He seemed nice enough and his eye contact was not shifty. Andrik relaxed and let his eyes roam the room. If Sammy was a surprise from the throng of people, he was sure there would be more. He politely excused himself and went off with hopes of finding his own long lost relative. It seemed Mama Jean's death would inadvertently unlock some long held secrets. If Andrik's deduction was correct, there was a story unfolding.

  CHAPTER 30

  Two things happened almost simultaneously that caused an avalanche of emotion to spread through the room. First of all, the rain began. A loud clap of thunder roared through the room and shook the walls. Several small children cried out and adults gasped in surprise. Then the rear doors to the room were slammed open as an old man in a wheelchair was wheeled forth. He sat ramrod straight. A shock of gray hair covered his head. His skin was black as soot and it was clear he was a tall man. His knees almost touched his chest as his long frame sat within the confines of the

  wheelchair. He slowed his wheelchair about midway along the aisle. His eyes searched the rows of people until he saw Andrik.

  Andrik did not look away from the old man, even as he heard the announcement from the makeshift stage. "Mr. Rick Myers is here to say some words over Jean Myers, his wife."

  Every hair on Andrik's body stood up. He heard Martha cry out, "I thought he was dead."

  The old man stopped next to their aisle and stared at Martha, "Well you see I ain't dead."

  Martha hissed in his direction and clamped her mouth shut. Andrik's gaze locked with the old man's. His eyes widened and he seemed to struggle with whether to go forward or backward. The sight of Andrik had clearly unnerved him. The silence was so thick you could hear the rain fall against the windows of the room.

  Andrik's heart slammed against his ribs. This was his grandfather. He felt Willetta's hand slide along his arm and into his. He squeezed it in response.

  #

  Mr. Rick Myers was wheeled up to Mama Jean's casket. He stared at the body and knew that not many more days would pass before he would be in this same position. He was seventy-six years old. It was a wonder he had lived this long. The nursing home he lived in was in a deplorable state and it was reflected in the caliber of the staff. Most of the aids were impatient, if not cruel. But Rick took it as his comeuppance. He had not been a good man in his lifetime. The woman before him had covered over many of his transgressions. He still wondered if it had been for him personally or for some other reason. Maybe he would never know. He sighed and gestured that he was finished.

  The room remained unnaturally quiet as the old man was wheeled up onto the stage. A microphone was lowered to his face and all waited for him to speak.

  "My name is Rick Myers. I married Jean Myers on August third nineteen-fifty. She was a good woman. She knew how to forgive. She knew how to love. Most of all she made it her business to know her people. I loved her then and I love her now. Even with all my mistakes, I never stopped loving her." His voiced cracked and he gestured to be taken down off the stage.

  Andrik's hand was moist with sweat. Willetta didn't care. She held on. She knew he needed her. Looking at Rick Myers was like looking into the future. He and Andrik were one and the same. The resemblance they shared was extraordinary. The fact that they'd never met was inexcusable.

  Rick and Andrik stared at one another one more time before Rick was wheeled out of the room. Andrik wanted to jump up and run behind the old man and ask him a billion questions, but he kept his dignity and silently plotted his course. He stayed seated beside Willetta with her hand squeezed tightly within his own.

  The remainder of the funeral was uneventful except for a severe melancholy that settled over Martha. She seemed older and debilitated. Willetta and Andrik had to take turns leading her through the throng of people and through introductions and farewells.

  Willetta and Martha's family from Atlanta, Georgia were going to be in town for another week or so and made lunch dates with them. Martha perked up a little at this, but the faded look never completely left her face.

  Willetta was kissed and hugged by them all. Sammy's mother and father Gwenneth and Samuel Gray were so excited to see Willetta again. They talked all over themselves.

  "It was so hard for me to keep the secret that you were actually our kin. Especially when I saw how sad and lonely you were sometimes, but Mama Jean convinced us it was for the best. She said that everything would come to light eventually and that you were too young to deal with it all right then," Gwenneth explained gently.

  "She thought about letting Stanley know about you, but your mother had made her promise not to. She said that he had done such a poor job of being a father to Andrik, she was terrified he would ruin your life too," Samuel said.

  Willetta and Andrik both frowned. Martha's sad face turned into a face filled with consternation.

  "My son didn't know he had a daughter," she asked.

  "No, I don't think so. According to Mama Jean he never knew about Willetta."

  "Well, how did she get that name," Martha asked suspiciously. She assumed Stanley had given her the name.

  "Mama Jean named her," Gwenneth said matter-of-factly.

  "How do you know all this," Andrik said.

  "We have Mama Jean's journals. She mailed
them to us for safekeeping about a year ago. She said she was done writing them," Samuel said excitedly. "They were wonderful to read. I especially enjoyed _" he was cut off by Gwenneth.

  "We have forgotten that you all may not know everything. I am sorry. Excuse our bad manners, please," she said. "But Mama Jean instructed us to give her personal journals to you, Andrik. They are in the car. We will give them to you before we leave," she finished.

  Andrik, Willetta and Martha could only stare in amazement at the turn of events. Willetta felt sick to her stomach. Old feelings of

  abandonment resurfaced. Since the inheritance of the journals, she'd felt a warm feeling of acceptance and love, but with the new turn of events, she felt a mockery. She didn't look at Andrik. He would gloat. She'd been very hard on him about the journals and now the most important journals were being placed into his hands. Willetta was torn between happiness for him and outrage at the unfairness of the situation.

  Andrik's hand slid to the middle of her back. He bent over to whisper in her ear, "I'll share them with you."

  Willetta closed her eyes and allowed the ensuing embarrassment to flood her senses. She deserved it.

  CHAPTER 31

  Volume 1, pg 1 ( September 1971): "I found a letter from my son on the porch this morning. I don't know who left it. Richard has been dead for two weeks now. The letter scared me and my breath hitched something awful. When I could breathe again, I started reading. I cannot stop crying for my sweet boy."

  #

  The house was finally empty. Aunt Olivia and her entourage were the last to leave. It was strange how they lingered. Conversation had finally stalled and Aunt Olivia kept falling asleep and sputtering back awake. Olivia's eyes shifted restlessly around the room as if she was looking for something. Aunt Octavia hummed hymns and loudly recited scriptures every now and then until Martha finally demanded her to be silent.

  When they finally took their leave, Martha hobbled to the door and slammed it until the panes in the window rattled. "Something is up with them old hoots. They would have done better to just spit it out," she mumbled. "My bones is aching. Its been a long day. Burying the dead ought not be so taxin. I'll see y'all in the morning." She heaved a great heavy sigh and climbed the stairs.