Journals of the Secret Keeper Page 5

  grandpapa's name was William and my

  grandmama's name was Etta. They named their one

  and only child, Willetta."

  Willetta felt the skin on her body tighten in

  response to the implications of the woman's words.

  Unwilling to guess and terrified to believe, Willetta

  waited, but her next words sent both Andrik and

  Willetta into a mental tailspin.

  "You look a lot like Stanley, my son. I

  didn't know he had fathered a child. I bet Jean

  knew it. It was just like her to keep it to herself

  too."

  Andrik swung the car into Mama Jean's yard

  and turned the switch off abruptly. "Do you mean

  to tell me that Willetta is my sister," he yelled. "Hold your voice down young man. I ain't

  got no hearing problems," the old woman said. "What's your name," Willetta asked. "I'm Martha Thomas, your grandmother. I

  ain't never been married because the one man I ever

  loved got me pregnant and ran off with another

  woman. It was always me and Stanley until

  momma took him away from me."

  "Where have you been all this time? How

  could you not know about me and Andrik," Willetta

  asked in disbelief.

  "Now wait a minute. I knew about Andrik.

  Andrik is Anita's son, but he ain't Stanley's son. I

  just never knew about you, missy. I been in

  California for thirty-five years now," she said as her

  eyes slid towards Andrik.

  Both Martha and Willetta turned their

  attention to Andrik who was not lost to the

  significance of the fact that Martha had been in

  California for thirty-five years. He was exactly

  thirty-five years old and his birth must have had

  something to do with her exodus or either her exile. Andrik suddenly had a very strong dislike

  for Martha Williams. He didn't like or trust her.

  She could be lying. He had never seen her in his

  life and the things she was saying were unbelievable

  and devastating. His mother could have told him on

  her death bed, because he was there, that Stanley

  Thompson was not his father. The one woman he loved and trusted above all others, Mama Jean, could have told him. But neither she nor his mother had ever told him the truth. He wondered why. He also wondered why the nasty old woman in the back seat had suddenly resurfaced after all these years, seemingly sober and ready to straighten out all that Mama Jean had messed up. All her peers were dead. No one was left to agree or disagree with her

  account of events.

  "Ms. Williams, Willetta and I are on our

  way to town for supplies. Do you need anything

  back from the store?" he asked coldly.

  "I'm going to stay here with her, Andrik.

  You can go on," Willetta said.

  "Are you sure, you want me to leave you

  here," Andrik said and glanced at the woman in the

  backseat.

  Martha Williams was eighty and she had

  learned over the years to understand people. So,

  she kept her silence and let Andrik draw his own

  conclusions. It wasn't too many secrets that actually

  went to the grave anyway. People are always

  thinking somebody has taken a secret to the grave

  with them, but in reality somebody somewhere

  knows the truth. Andrik was going to find his own

  truth and it wasn't going to be from her.

  "Go on with him, gal. We got plenty time to

  talk. I'm just gone get on in the house and take a

  nap. If I know Mama Jean, everything is still where

  it always was. I'll find my way around."

  Willetta and Andrik helped Martha into the

  house and headed back down the road towards

  Clarksdale.

  CHAPTER 11

  Volume 8, pg.1 (September 27, 1906):

  "Willetta Thompson was born this morning. I

  could hear her wailing all the way out in the

  field. She gone be alright. This baby gone live

  to tell her own babies about life. I just know it.

  '"

  #

  "Can you believe this," Willetta said. She

  shook her head and looked at Andrik in disbelief. "Actually, no I can't. I don't trust that

  woman," he said.

  "What is there not to trust? She's old. She

  has to be in her eighties at least," Willetta

  countered.

  "Do you know what it means if she's telling

  the truth? It means Stanley Thompson was not my

  father. It means Mama Jean let you struggle alone

  on your own in Atlanta, Georgia all the while

  knowing that you had a grandmother who could

  take care of you. It means that sweet Mama Jean

  was either evil or deranged."

  Andrik spoke quietly and deliberately. He

  was making every attempt to maintain control. He

  felt as if he had been slammed against a brick wall.

  Everything in his life that had never made any sense

  was beginning to make sense and he wasn't sure if

  he liked it. His thoughts churned quickly from one

  what-if to another.

  "Uh, Andrik. There is something about my

  stay in Atlanta, Georgia that I left out," Willetta said

  quietly.

  Andrik turned his head slowly in her

  direction. He felt from the beginning that there was

  a ring of untruth to her story. "What was that," he

  asked.

  "I didn't find that family. I wasn't that

  smart. The family actually found me. I always felt

  they were reporting things back to Mama Jean, but I

  didn't care as long as I never had to set foot in

  Mississippi again."

  "Well, who were they, Willetta? It seems

  there are a lot of secrets and unsolved mysteries

  surrounding Mama Jean and I don't like secrets." Willetta looked out the window and watched

  the fields of wheat zoom past. She gave particular

  interest to the brown dirt between the rows of

  wheat. As the car sped along, the dirt between each

  row would open up and then quickly fade into the

  grass. She tried counting them, but soon realized it

  was an impossible task. She tried again and again

  to catch the momentum of the passing rows, but

  failed.

  Finally Willetta said, "I don't like secrets

  either, but I wonder if they are sometimes

  necessary."

  "Now what is that supposed to mean,"

  Andrik asked.

  Willetta shrugged and continued to look out

  the window. She was thinking about all the work

  Andrik had done to the beautiful house on

  Thompson Estates. She secretly wondered if he

  was concerned over his inheritance. At the same

  time her heart ached at the thought that Mama Jean

  had allowed her to live the life of an orphan when

  all along she had a grandmother and an inheritance.

  If Stanley Thompson was her father, everything he

  left behind belonged to her. Willetta's hands curled

  into fists as a new determination rose within her

  heart.

  # Willetta felt the rise of the car as they left

  the dirt road and finally found Intestate Sixty-One.

  She and Andrik both had slid into their own

  ruminations and by the rigid set of Andrik's jaw, it

  was
obvious his thoughts were angry.

  "Andrik, the truth is always eventually a

  good thing. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine,"

  she said in an effort to sooth him.

  "You just said a few minutes ago that secrets

  might sometimes be necessary. It's clear your mind

  isn't quite made up about anything. So, for right

  now could you just keep your thoughts to yourself,"

  he said meanly.

  "Just what are you so angry about? Is it the

  fact that the house just might be mine," she said. The car accelerated as Andrik pressed his

  foot down further on the gas. "Only an idiot

  wouldn't be concerned. I've put my sweat and blood

  into that house and land," he grumbled.

  Willetta's eyes inadvertently went to his

  hands. They gripped the steering wheel and the

  strength they held was clear to the naked eye. The

  dark skin of his arms curved and dipped with the

  shapeliness of hewn muscles. He was a strong man,

  but Willetta was no longer sure if he was as strong

  as he looked. He was hurting and she had a feeling

  that the hurting began way before Ms. Martha

  Thompson had shown up with her revelations. #

  Willetta's sole purchase from Wal-Mart was

  a pair of reading glasses. She would begin reading

  the journals as soon as she could sneak a few out of

  the ground. The determination to find out the

  complete truth was now a burning fire within her. It

  was stronger than her desire for Thompson Estates or any material thing. She just wanted the truth and

  she knew she would find it in the journals. "Did you get everything you need," Andrik

  asked. His eyes briefly scanned the small plastic

  bag she held in her hand.

  "Oh, yes. I brought practically everything I

  own with me. So, I don't need any toiletries or

  anything. Let's go," Willetta said. She was anxious

  to get back to Martha and find out all she could

  about her family.

  Andrik's feet dragged. He was thoroughly

  depressed. Everything was obscure now. The only

  thing he knew for a certainty was that Anita

  Thomas had been his mother. He also knew that

  Stanley Thomas had never loved him and probably

  resented his very existence. Something had gone

  very wrong in Stanley and his mother's life. He had

  always known they had never loved each other.

  They had separate bedrooms from as far back as he

  could remember. Why were they even together?

  Had his whole life been a lie?

  Andrik jumped when he felt Willetta's hand

  slide over his as he pushed the basket of supplies.

  Her hand was warm and soft. The warmth of it

  seemed to spread up his arm. He gently squeezed

  her hand and kept walking through the parking lot.

  He could not look into her deep dark eyes. The

  sympathy he was sure to see there would undo him.

  She and he shared the same plight for sure, but she

  was the strong one. She seemed anxious to get the

  truth and put it behind her. He only felt a morbid

  fear teetering steadily into sheer terror.

  CHAPTER 12

  Volume 11, pg.1 (June 1910): "Etta

  ain't never satisfied with nothing. Willetta has

  filled my heart, but not her momma's. She

  want another baby. She done asked that fast

  gal over the bridge for her baby when its born.

  She say a twelve-year-old ain't got no business

  with a baby."

  #

  "I am never going to be your enemy,

  Andrik. As far as I'm concerned, we are both

  victims. We're smart enough to work this out,"

  Willetta said as soon as they got settled back into

  the car.

  Andrik didn't say anything. He just nodded.

  They were both victims. He realized the truth in

  that. It was odd how earlier in the day he had held

  the upper hand. The past was his, the family was

  his, and the house was his. Now it seemed that it all

  belonged to Willetta. He wasn't sure exactly where

  that left him and he had no idea how he could

  refrain from hating the person who walked away

  with his heritage, even if it was Willetta.

  "Willetta, how do we know we can believe

  Martha Thompson," he asked desperately. "We have to listen to her first. We will let

  her talk, Andrik. You'll know if she's lying. But we

  have to listen and be kind to her or else we may lose

  our one chance to know the truth. Don't forget you

  have to find out who your real father is. She has to

  know," Willetta said.

  "She's so old. She'll probably die like Mama

  Jean did before we can find out anything," he

  mumbled.

  "Are you always so negative? Please stop it.

  I don't like it and it makes you look bad," she spit

  out.

  Andrik straightened his shoulders and sat

  up. He really had slipped back into his dark days of

  brooding. One shocker had shattered his new

  image. Professor Chaston would be disappointed to

  see him now.

  "Positive thinking gets positive results," he

  whispered.

  "What did you say," Willetta asked. "I said positive thinking gets positive results.

  You're right, Willetta. I need to get a better attitude

  about this situation. I'm sorry. So, where do we

  begin," he asked.

  "First of all, Martha is coming to live in the

  house with us. She can't stay in Mama Jean's shack,

  because I refuse to stay there with her. So, she

  comes with us," Willetta said firmly.

  Andrik frowned distastefully at the idea. He

  had no wish to be under the same roof with Martha

  Thompson. But under the circumstances, he might

  be the guest instead of the host. So, he nodded in

  agreement.

  "Secondly," Willetta continued, "Mama Jean

  suggested before she died that you and I should get

  married. I think we should try to appear as loverlike as possible in front of Martha. Something

  Martha said makes me believe she would not be too

  happy about it and since we are not brother and

  sister, I want to find out why."

  Andrik cringed at the thought of playing

  lover to Willetta. He was attracted to her and any

  acting would be on her part, not his. He was bound

  more than likely to play the fool instead of the

  lover.

  "I'll let you take the lead in that department,"

  he said uncomfortably.

  "What, and make myself look like a hussy?

  No way. You have to take the lead and let me

  follow along," Willetta said.

  "I hope you know what you're asking for. I

  can lay it on pretty thick. Do you want us to be

  budding lovers or old lovers," Andrik asked huskily. Willetta once again found herself staring at

  Andrik's physique. His flat stomach curved into a C

  at his waist and she could almost see his pectorals

  pressing against the cotton shirt he wore. Long legs

  thick with muscle curved along the cushion of the

  car seat and Willetta had a vision of herself in his

  lap. The pulse in h
er neck leapt and she looked

  away.

  "Budding lovers would be better. Thank you

  for asking," she said sarcastically.

  "No problem, Lettie," he said.

  Willetta laughed, "Am I Lettie now?" "Yes. Ever since Mama Jean told me about

  you, in my mind I have called you Lettie," he

  confessed.

  Willetta decided she liked it and told him so.

  A sense of unity and calmness settled over them as

  they rode in silence. Andrik was surprised at how

  expertly Lettie had settled his fears and turned his

  dread into anticipation and excitement. Willetta felt

  a sense of belonging and took comfort in the fact

  that she and Andrik's pasts were intertwined. He

  was a good person and she felt no compulsion to

  disentangle them. She only wanted clarity of the

  twists and turns. She was sure with the help of

  Martha and the journals that would be a cinch. #

  "I ain't going to that house. That's the devil's

  house," Martha said stubbornly.

  Andrik stared at the old woman in disbelief.

  Who was she calling the devil? He looked at

  Willetta and realized she was trying very hard to

  keep from laughing.

  "Who's the devil Ms. Martha," Willetta

  asked.

  Martha clamped her lips shut and refused to

  answer. "I just ain't going and I don't want to hear

  anything else about it." She sat back down on the

  black plastic couch in Mama Jean's living room and

  kicked her house shoes off. She lifted her stiff legs

  onto the couch and settled back against the pillows. Willetta opened her mouth to speak, but

  Andrik spoke first. "Lettie is staying with me. I

  don't want her down here in this shack. So, if you

  stay here, you'll be by yourself, because Lettie stays

  with me." He grabbed Willetta's hand and held it

  firmly in his.

  Martha slowly sat up and placed her feet on

  the floor. Her eyes widened on Andrik and

  Willetta's clasped hands and she said, "Young man,

  just who the blazes is Lettie."

  Now Andrik was having trouble holding in

  his laughter. He looked down at Willetta and said,

  "She is. This beautiful woman beside me is Lettie."

  He let his eyes roam lingeringly over Willetta's face

  for good measure. Willetta stared back

  unblinkingly into his eyes.

  Martha got up and slid into her walking

  shoes. She shuffled over to her walker and stuffed

  her house shoes into the bag hanging from it. "Let's

  go. Y'all ain't married and ain't got no business in