Journals of the Secret Keeper Read online

  never that bad.

  There were a lot of questions that needed

  answering and Willetta was thankful she had the

  time to unravel the mysteries. Her challenge would

  be in keeping it to herself. Andrik made her want to

  tell it all. There was an intensity about him that

  tugged at her. She wasn't interested in marrying

  anyone and wasn't sure if she was even marriage

  material, but she was sure she wanted Andrik to be

  her friend. He was discerning and serious about

  life. Mama Jean loved him and spoke tenderly of

  him. Willetta needed to know a man like that.

  Andrik might help her regain her belief in black

  men.

  "You want to ride with me into town,

  Willetta," Andrik murmured. His eyes were still

  closed and his hands were folded across his

  stomach. "I need to go to Wal-Mart for supplies.

  We can pick up something to eat while we're in

  town." He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Sure. I need to change though. Most of

  my things are still in the car," she said, as she

  climbed off of the swing. Andrik stood up to hold

  the swing while she got down.

  "You can have any room on the East wing of

  the house. My suite is on the West wing. We

  should be able to stay out of each other's way," he

  said lightly and grinned. He was even more

  adorable when he smiled. Willetta stared for a

  second and then laughed at what he'd said. She followed him back into the cozy living

  area. Andrik had not tampered with the integrity

  and the layout of the house. The frames of the walls

  had not been touched. The marble fireplace and

  wood floors were original to the family room, but

  the ambiance had changed. Instead of the house

  resonating darkness and mysteriousness of times

  gone by, it now felt light and airy. The deep dark

  colors of green, burgundy, and red had been

  exchanged in favor of creams, straw colors, stone

  colors, and deep browns for contrast. The effect

  was soothing and warm.

  "I'll get your bags and bring them up to you,

  Willetta," Andrik said. He turned and left her at the

  bottom of the deep and narrow stairwell that led to

  the second floor. Willetta climbed the stairs and

  made a left when she reached the landing. The

  hallway was long and narrow. Willetta decided to

  take the first bedroom. She didn't want to feel like

  she was still alone. She would be close to the stairs

  and to Andrik's West wing. Furthermore she liked

  the room's soft pastel green color. Andrik said the

  furniture was original to the house. She was

  impressed at how well-maintained the hundredyear-old furniture was. Andrik's parents must have

  really loved the house and everything in it. There was a huge stand-alone porcelain tub

  in the corner of the room close to the marble

  fireplace. A small closet housed the toilet. Willetta

  felt transformed into another time by the layout of the room. The room was both intriguing and seductive. She turned the refurnished gold-plated

  faucet handles on. She wanted a bath.

  Willetta noticed the screen in the corner

  behind the tub and dragged it out. She placed it in

  front of the tub and opened it. This would provide a

  little privacy within the room. She was so used to

  going into a bathroom and closing a door that it

  seemed wrong take a bath in the wide open of her

  bedroom.

  The screen was made out of wood and had a

  rather large painting of a white woman with red hair

  on the front of it. The woman was dressed in an

  old-fashioned ballroom gown of velvet and had a

  matching parasol in her hand. Willetta frowned at

  the picture.

  "You can't have this room, Willetta," Andrik

  said hoarsely from the other side of the screen. Willetta quickly stepped around the screen

  to face Andrik, "You told me I could have any

  room. What's wrong with this one," she asked. Andrik dropped Willetta's bags on the floor

  and stared at her. "Out of all the rooms, you picked

  this one? Why?" he asked.

  Andrik was having trouble controlling the

  course of his thoughts. He could see the steam of

  Willetta's bath rising above the screen. This was all

  wrong. He should never have agreed to her staying.

  She had not changed her clothes since last night.

  She still wore the tight T-shirt and flannel shorts.

  She showed no concern at all about the untamed

  mess of hair on her head or her bare feet that were

  dusty and grass stained. He'd seen the bottom of

  her feet as she sat on the swing. She had obviously

  been walking in the grass before she came to his

  house. She had driven bare foot. She must have fled Mama Jean's house in fear. None of that mattered right now. Because every single thing thus far about Willetta Jones had either upset him or thrilled him. There was no balance for him when it

  came to her.

  "I like this tub and I like the color of this

  room. I think it's wonderful. Please let me keep

  this room. I won't hurt anything," Willetta begged.

  She had no idea up until this very moment, how

  badly she wanted the experience of this oldfashioned Victorian bedroom. This was the best

  setting for her to begin reading journals written by

  old dead people. Willetta was a weakling for

  ambiance.

  CHAPTER 9

  Volume 4, pg. 10 (February 1903):

  "Thank the Lord we ain't got to worry about

  bringing folks along with us no more. We

  married now and our business is our own

  private business. Etta had them people

  uptown record in the county court books our

  marriage and that we own this house and land

  out here. I can rest easy now. I got me a good

  wife and some land.'"

  #

  Andrik didn’t' know how to argue with

  Willetta about the room without sounding like an

  idiot. So, he saved face by following the lead she

  gave him.

  "Just be careful with the screen. I think it

  was my mother's favorite piece. It's original to the

  house," he said half truthfully.

  Willetta thought for a moment about the

  painting of the white woman on the front of the

  screen. The picture had caught her attention for

  more reason than the woman's race. It was an oil painting done on a canvas that had been glued to the screen. The woman had most likely posed for the painting. She may have even lived in this very house. The thought intrigued Willetta and sparked

  her imagination.

  "Do you know who the woman on the

  screen was," she asked.

  Andrik thought for a moment and wondered

  why he'd never asked his mother and father that

  question. He couldn't remember the first time he'd

  seen the screen, but he had been aware of it for most

  of his life. He hoped his lack of knowledge didn't

  make him seem lame brained to Willetta. To tell

  the truth he had spent too much time trying to

  survive emotionally in this house. Asking his

  distant and often me
an father or his sickly mother

  about the white woman would have been an

  extraordinary thing to have done upon reflection. "No, I have no idea. I suppose we could

  find out. We would have to go to the courthouse

  and see if they have any records on all the people

  who ever lived in this house and then we could go

  to the newspaper archives to see if we can find

  some pictures," he said.

  "Now if you know how to do all that, why

  haven't you done it already," she asked.

  Andrik shrugged his shoulders. He had

  never been interested in the history of this house

  before now. "Haven't you seen 'If These Old Walls

  Could Talk' on HGTV", he asked. "They showcase

  old houses that people move into. As the people

  begin renovation they find old relics original to the

  house. Their curiosity leads them to find out all

  they can about the house and the people who used

  to live there."

  Willetta saw the moment the excitement

  entered his face. She had been in and out of this

  house the six years she lived with Mama Jean. She

  had never seen the screen, but she had always been

  fascinated by the architecture of the house. She

  hoped Andrik wouldn't mind including her in his

  new project.

  Andrik walked further into the room and

  picked the screen up to turn the portrait away from

  the tub, "We'll find out who she is, but in the

  meantime keep the screen turned out away from the

  steam when you're bathing. We don't want to ruin

  the thing, before we find out how much its worth,"

  he said.

  Willetta agreed wholeheartedly. The light in

  Andrik's eyes promised a little fun and the use of

  the word "we" made her heart skip a beat. It had

  been a long time since she was part of something

  with roots and meaning. Willetta had to admit that

  being disconnected from your past was not the best

  position to be in. It was possibly less painful, but

  not necessarily more fulfilling.

  #

  Willetta was shocked speechless when

  Andrik led her into the garage. Their drive to town

  was going to be in style. He opened the door for

  her and she slid into the sleek interior of his black

  Audi. She watched him as he rounded the front of

  the car and opened the driver's door. His long

  frame slid beneath the steering wheel and with the

  switch of the key, the engine purred.

  "Well aren't you just full of surprises,"

  Willetta breathed.

  Andrik grinned as he backed the car out and

  pushed the button to let the garage door down. The

  smooth sounds of Sade filled the soundproof vehicle as it glided onto the dirt road leading away

  from Thompson Estates.

  Andrik had changed into a pair of drycleaned khaki's with razor-edged creases, a cotton

  crew-neck shirt and casual brown shoes. He

  smelled good too. The mixture of soap, shaving

  cream, and cologne created a mild aroma that

  invaded her senses rather pleasantly. Willetta cast

  Andrik a sidelong glance before looking straight

  ahead again.

  The sun was beginning to settle, but there

  was still a good two hours of daylight left. The

  back roads of Mississippi always evoked a lonely

  feeling. It felt as if she and Andrik were the only

  two people in the whole world. Willetta was glad to

  be going into town. She wanted to shake off the

  eerie feeling of mystery and disquiet Mama Jean's

  last words and subsequent death had stirred within

  her.

  She rested her head against the seat and

  closed her eyes. Sade's husky voice crooned

  "Smooth Operator" through the side door speakers.

  Willetta let her mind sing along as she remembered

  the words. She felt herself relaxing even more as

  the car hummed along the dirt road and Sade's

  warm voice filled the interior. She was just about

  sleep when Andrik suddenly slammed his foot

  down on the brake.

  "Somebody is in those weeds on the side of

  the road," he said incredulously.

  Willetta craned her neck to see what he was

  talking about and sure enough an old woman was in

  the weeds. She was holding on to what looked like

  a rolling walker. When Willetta realized what she

  was doing, she hit Andrik hard on the shoulders and

  told him to look away.

  "She's using the bathroom, Andrik. Don't

  look," Willetta laughed.

  "Oh lord," Andrik groaned. He put the car

  in gear and prepared to drive away.

  "Where are you going," Willetta said, "Just

  wait so we can see if she needs help. Poor thing is a

  long ways from everything. We can't leave her out

  here."

  "Well, somebody already did. I refuse to

  believe that she walked from anywhere to this

  point," Andrik murmured.

  The old woman took her time coming out of

  the weeds and when she did, she immediately

  gripped her walker firmly and hobbled the few feet

  to the car. She knocked on Willetta's window

  before Andrik could let it down. Her knuckles left

  their prints in the dusty window. Andrik held his

  tongue and waited.

  "Hello there. I sure hope yall some nice

  children. Cuz I ain't got no money, but I do needs

  myself a ride out to Mama Jean's spot."

  Andrik and Willetta sat frozen in their seats.

  They didn't know who the old woman was and

  neither of them was willing to tell her that Mama

  Jean was dead. The old woman moved her walker

  to the side and leaned into Willetta's window. Her

  eyes squinched together as she peered closely into

  Willetta's face and then into Andrik's. Willetta

  counted three long hairs growing out of the bottom

  of her chin and she had no teeth to speak of, but she

  was clean and tidy. No odor came from her person.

  Willetta was thankful for that.

  "You Anita's son ain't you?" she asked

  Andrik.

  "Yes ma'am, I am," Andrik said.

  "And you look like somebody I know'd real

  good in the past too, missy," she said to Willetta. "I

  ain't understanding how the two of you came to be

  in the same world together and least of all in the

  same car together, but if it was to happen, I know

  who made it happen. This ain't nothing but the

  work of that Mama Jean. Serves me right for letting

  her have her way all this time. Get on out young

  man and help me in the car. It's been a long day

  and I'm old and tired and can't die until I straighten

  out Jean's mess."

  CHAPTER 10

  Volume 6, pg. 25 (February 1906): "My

  poor Etta still crying over the baby she lost.

  Seems she wants babies real bad now. She

  pregnant again and I sure hope this one come

  out alright.'"

  #

  Martha Thomas had lived her whole life for

  no one but herself. She liked her alcohol, cigarettes

  and men all in tha
t order. Her old body had been

  ravaged and wrecked by all three and she had long

  ago lost her taste for any of them. They had left her

  with a sore gut, chronic cough, and an empty heart. She rested her tired bones against the leather

  seat of Anita's son's car and rested for a minute.

  After bending her sore back and creaking knees to

  get into the backseat, she was out of breath. She

  had questions, but they could wait until she had her

  breath back.

  Willetta and Andrik remained silent as they

  ambled along the dirt road back to Mama Jean's.

  Both of them wondered who the old lady in the

  backseat was and what her statements about "Jean's

  mess" meant. There was something downright

  mysterious about the old woman from the way she

  had popped up out of nowhere and the fact that she

  knew something about both of them, when they

  knew very little about each other.

  "What's your name, girl," the old woman

  asked.

  "Willetta Jones," Willetta answered. There was a loud gasp from the old woman,

  as she struggled to scoot to the edge of the plush

  leather seat. She grabbed hold of Willetta's head

  rest and pulled herself forward. Andrik winced as

  he watched from the corner of his eye. Much more and she would have torn the head rest completely

  off the seat.

  "Willetta, you say? Now that's a name for

  sure. Where you get that name from?" she asked. Willetta felt the old woman's breath against

  her cheek and turned to stare directly into her face.

  Her eyes were sharp and clear. They pierced

  through Willetta's irises and probed for information.

  Willetta knew that somehow her response was

  important to this woman.

  "I don't know who named me. I'm an

  orphan. My momma left me with Mama Jean when

  I was nine," Willetta said.

  "Well, I know where that name came from.

  I just don't know why nobody bothered to tell me

  about you. An old drunk got memories and

  feelings too. Might've woke me up sooner, if they

  had told me."

  Willetta was made even more confused by

  the ramblings of the old woman. She had no idea

  what she was talking about, but felt sure she was

  about to find out. The woman's old crinkled hand

  gently rubbed her jawline and Willetta willed

  herself to stay put. She wanted to move away from

  the elderly woman, but something in her eyes stilled

  her.

  The woman's eyes filled with tears and she

  said, "My momma's name was Willetta. My