Journals of the Secret Keeper (11 page)

Andrik knew what was happening. The
tightening of his body and the pounding of his heart
were not lost on him, but to fall for Willetta at this
moment would be a certain premature defeat.
He
wanted to fight. He breathed in a ragged breath and
reined in control.
"Go to bed, Willetta. What happened
upstairs won't happen again. You are the last
person I should have an interest in. It could turn out
to be an incestuous relationship," he said
sarcastically.
His arrogance riled her and his blasé
dismissal hurt, but Willetta didn't say a word. She
slowly lifted the bowl to her lips and drank her
melted ice cream. With even slower deliberation
she stuck her finger in the bowl and wet it. Making
a guttural sound of ecstasy, she slid the finger into
her mouth.
Andrik couldn't have looked away if the
ceiling was caving in. His eyes narrowed upon her
lips and he watched in heated fascination as she
withdrew her finger. Her eyes lifted and bore into
his, as she said, "I'll be sure to let you know if we
turn out to be kin."
#
Over the next few days Willetta spent most
of the time in her room reading William
Thompson's journals. Andrik did not try to bother
her, but he watched her every move. Every time
she came out of the room she could sense his eyes
on her.
He was waiting for her to seek out the rest
of the journals. Willetta knew that getting the rest
of them from the grave would be tricky, but she was
working on a plan.
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 let 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."