Journals of the Secret Keeper (17 page)

Everything was in Willetta's hands. Vivica
could lose Chance forever. Her heart beat erratically
at the thought and she forcefully switched her
ruminations to something else. Chance was
undoubtedly attached to her and he was loyal to a
fault. He would not allow her to be judged based on
what her son had done.
She'd been the first one to tell him how
hurtful rape could be and what it might have done to
his mother's mental and emotional state. She'd
educated him on what made men rapist and why
they rarely reformed and would always be bad men.
She had been the one to take him to the prison to
see his father and what he was for himself. She'd
wiped his tears and consoled him with her
assurances that he was nothing like his father. The
education of Chance Townsend had been one of
much enlightenment, but no lies. It had been a
willful and methodical education by a grandmother
who had seen the light and embraced its ugly truth.
The result was a child with wisdom in his eyes and
a well of empathy in his heart. Everybody loved
Chance, but none more than Vivica Townsend.
#
Chance was asleep in Willetta's bed.
Andrik, Samuel, and Willetta were on the back
porch. The two men watched as she walked like a
caged tiger from one end of the porch to the other.
Samuel spoke quietly and every now and then
Willetta would grunt, put her hands on her hips,
stop and stare, or grab her head. She was distraught
and the answers weren't coming fast enough.
"Mama Jean gave him to Orlando-therapist's mother?" she asked incredulously for the
third time.
"Yes, Willetta. Vivica did not raise Orlando
Jr. She divorced Orlando Sr., because he was
abusive. He would not let her have her son. She
moved to Atlanta, Georgia when Orlando was five."
"How did Mama Jean know the woman was
in Atlanta? How did she even find out about what
happened to me," she asked.
Andrik noticed she didn't use the word rape.
She would probably never use it again, since
meeting Chance.
"Now that is an amazing story. It's in your
journals. The ones you should have read by now,"
Samuel said quietly.
"You and Andrik have to read
every one of the journals in that suitcase before any
of this is finalized or even makes sense to you. I
don't have all year to wait on you either. I had them
read in one week."
"I've been trying to read them, but stuff
keeps happening," she yelled. Suddenly she
stopped in front of Andrik and said, "I'm going to
be three sheets to the wind before this is all over.
Andrik, what am I going to do with Chance?"
"I don't know what's going on myself,
Willetta, but I do know that he needs you and wants
you," he said.
"I can tell you that you definitely have a
choice to make where Chance is concerned, but the
decision needs to be well thought out and all the
facts assimilated before you make that decision. I
will have to approve the final decision and
everything will have to be in Chance's favor. This
case is the most complicated and sensitive case I've
ever dealt with," Samuel admitted.
"So, this is about custody. I have to decide
whether I want him or not? He's eleven years old.
I'm sure he doesn't want to leave the woman whose
been raising him," she said. Willetta could not
bring herself to credit the woman as Chance's
grandmother, after all she was the mother of a
rapist.
Samuel took a deep breath and continued,
"Orlando Jr. will be out of prison soon, Willetta.
He knows about Chance and there is nothing to
keep him from pursuing custody."
Willetta froze. "He could get custody of
Chance with his criminal record," she asked.
"Why, yes. Rapists have parental rights in
some states," he answered.
CHAPTER 43
Over the next five days Willetta and Andrik
read their journals from cover to cover.
Samuel
and Gwenneth bought fishing gear and licenses and
occupied their time at a fishing hole down the road.
Chance went with them or either hung out with Mr.
Ricky and Martha, who spoiled him terribly.
The weather was unseasonably warm for
October, but no one was complaining. Willetta and
Andrik shared the swing on the back porch as they
each poured over one journal after another. The
breeze from the field was cooler than the summer
breezes. It was soothing and refreshing. Whenever
Willetta lifted her face from the pages the wind
seemed to whisper good things and she smiled into
the future. Andrik was happier too. Every now and
then they'd share tidbits of information neither
knew, but there were no devastating surprises.
Their hope was that all the bad secrets had been
told.
Time was standing still for them and they
both felt the strangeness of it. Their routine was to
shower, dress, eat breakfast meet on the porch, read
until lunch, eat lunch, back to the porch, read until
supper, eat supper, back to the porch, wake up to a
new day with their journals fallen to the floor,
shower, dress, and eat breakfast all over again.
There was a bond developing between them.
Looking into Andrik's face had become like looking
into a mirror and seeing her own face. Willetta
knew she had fallen deeply in love with him. Just
the sight of him made her happy. She found herself
touching him for no reason, watching him when she
should have been reading, and smiling into his face
every time his eyes rested on her.
She'd made a startling mental connection
between Chance and Andrik that sent her feelings
for them both spiraling out of control. If she loved
Andrik, she could love Chance. Andrik and Chance
were both products of rapes and both were deeply
sensitive, loving individuals.
Both were ready to
apologize for living, when neither was guilty of a
thing. They were strong and vulnerable at the same
time.
They adored her and loved her, when she felt
she was less of a woman because of being a rape
victim. They needed her as much as she needed
them. For the first time in her life Willetta knew
deep within her heart that everything was going to
be okay.
"I'm down to the last one," Andrik's deep
voice interjected upon her thoughts.
The sun was setting and he had already
turned on the porch lamps and lit a few candles for
her. One large mahogany hand held the last journal
loosely. Willetta looked at the journal in his hand
and for some strange reason wanted to commit the
sight to memory. She willed herself to never forget
the look of the small book in his huge hand. She
lifted her eyes to his and saw a look of reticence and
anticipation. They both knew Mama Jean liked
surprises. That would explain her method of
finalizing this business. It had been one surprise
after another for them and the last journal could
only mean one more surprise.
"I have two more to read," she said. "You
should take a break and wait on me. Let's read the
last ones together."
Andrik rested his back against the swing and
laid his hand with the book in it against his thigh.
He closed his eyes. Mama Jean's journals had
softened him. The truth had done something no
words of consolation ever could. It had given him
understanding. He now felt that understanding a
person took away the need to judge completely.
"I'll wait on you, Willetta," he murmured
with his eyes closed. "I'll wait on you forever."
Willetta's heart skipped a beat. What was he
talking about? "It's not going to take me forever to
finish this journal. I'm half-way finished already.
Go cook us something to eat. I should be ready to
start on the last journal when you come back," she
laughed.
Andrik opened his eyes and sat up. "You
haven't cooked a thing since you've been here. Can
you cook, Willetta," he asked.
"Yes, I can," she said indignantly.
"Prove it," he said, "I want a dirty south
meal."
Willetta laughed. "Okay, okay. I can't cook
like you cook, but I can boil water."
Andrik reached across the swing and
grabbed her forearm.
He dragged her up against
his chest and pressed his lips against hers. "I hope
you have other skills then and you better be glad I
don't mind cooking," he said against her lips.
It had been days and days since Andrik had
touched her like this and Willetta realized she'd
been yearning for it. She must have relayed the
thought with her eyes and body because she felt
Andrik stiffen and the smile left his face. He
dipped his head. His lips sealed with hers urgently.
She felt his hand slide beneath her shirt and sweep
across her back. The simple touch of his hand
against the naked flesh of her back was powerfully
arousing and Willetta wrapped her arms around his
neck and pulled herself closer.
Andrik felt the last vestiges of his control
slipping away as Willetta's soft breasts melded
against his chest. The scent of her perfume filled
his head as the warmth of her body drew him in.
He slid his other hand up under her shirt and
wrapped it around her waist. He lifted her and she
straddled him. Andrik stood with her in his arms.
"What are you doing," she asked dazedly.
"I'm taking you upstairs. You do realize we
are out in the open," he laughed.
Willetta had completely forgotten where she
was. She hit Andrik on the chest and he dropped
her.
"You go cook supper so we can finish these
journals. You need to stay focused," she said.
Andrik couldn't believe it, but instead of
making an argument about who lost control first, he
decided she was right. They did need to finish the
journals. It was in everyone's best interest. He took
one last look at the woman he planned on marrying
and decided he had all the time in the world to make
good on that offer he'd seen in her eyes.
#
After a supper of fried catfish, macaroni and
cheese, candied yams, and tossed salad, Willetta
was ready to fall over and go to sleep, but Andrik
was determined to start on the last journal.
Chance, Samuel and Gwenneth were home
and they were making a lot of noise playing
Monopoly. Samuel was winning and Chance was
laughing loudly at Gwenneth's bad sportsmanship.
Willetta would be happy when she and Andrik were
no longer the invisible people. She really wanted to
get to know her son. But Samuel had instructed
everyone to leave them alone until they finished the
journals. Willetta felt as if she was on punishment.
She did, however, enjoy the secret smiles Chance
had been sharing with her whenever she saw him.
CHAPTER 44
From what she'd read so far in the journals,
Chance was a wealthy kid. It seems she was too. It
felt odd knowing that she no longer had to worry
about money. She had not told Andrik about the
trust funds. She also hadn't told him how Mama
Jean had found out she'd been raped.
Orlando's father, Orlando Sr., had been the
informant. He'd come to Mama Jean one night,
drunk as ever, with an explanation as to where
Willetta had run off to and why. Mama Jean had
already figured out she was pregnant.
"Only a blind person could miss a pregnant
girl. When people care about you, they look at
you. I know Willetta pregnant. She ain't had her
monthly in a while
either. I don't know who the
father is, but I will find out. God reveals everything
in his own due time."
Most of the arrangements for Chance had
been spearheaded by Mr. Orlando Sr. himself. He
knew his ex-wife, Vivica, would be the perfect
mother for the child until Willetta could take him
on. He'd provided Mama Jean with her address and
phone number. Not long afterwards he'd been
diagnosed with prostate cancer and died.
Mama
Jean had kept his secret interference to herself up
until now.
"Mr. Orlando wasn't no regular drunk. He
was what they call a functioning
drunk. His
job in the governor's office made him rich. He done
left Chance half of
everything he had in the
world. That no-good son of his won't get nothing.
The
rest goes to the girl."
Willetta now understood why she had to
make a decision regarding Chance. With all the
money involved whoever took custody of him,
would stand to benefit enormously. Motives were
being called into question.
She had not a doubt that
she would see Orlando Jr. dead before she let him
get his hands on Chance or his inheritance. She had
not met Vivica yet, but she was smart enough to
know that no villainous person could have raised a
sweetie like Chance. She would meet her first and
judge her later.
#
Andrik held the final journal in his hand
once again. His thoughts were flowing and he
could, for the first time in his life, make sense of his
own life. Finding out how tortured his poor mother
had been after being raped by her fiance's father,
had been a real eye-opener.
"She asked me again why Andrik had to
look so much like Richard. I know he's
Ricky's
baby, but he's Richard all over again for me too. It
makes me happy, but it's the devil's own demons
for poor Anita. She trying to make heads and tails
of
something that ain't got no head or tail."
He also understood the love Mama Jean had
for him. She'd done more than save his life. She'd
given him life as sure as his mother had given birth
to him. If no one else loved him, she did. He knew
that Willetta was at the center of Mama Jean's
elaborate plans, but he felt he was at the core of it.
"This family ain't had nothing but tragedy to
talk about. My Andrik gone rise
above it. The
truth gives you power to know what you stepping
away from. Andrik gone know the truth and he
gone step away from all this ugliness."
She'd even explained Mr. Ricky and Martha
to him.
"Them two should've been married. Ricky
came to me hurtin because Martha had
done
got pregnant by another man. I thought I was the
better woman for him, but
seems like I made him
into a bad man. Grown folks need to listen to their
hearts when they know somebody ain't for them. I
knew Ricky wasn't for me, and I didn't
listen.
Now I ain't got Ricky or the son I had with him."
#
The last journals were being read by its
readers. Wine glasses sparkled in the moonlight
filled with red richness. A celebration was waiting
to be had upon completion of the journals. Deep
frowns embedded each forehead and there was an
intense silence upon the porch. The sound of pages
turning was all that could be heard.