Journals of the Secret Keeper (18 page)

One lone name shared the final pages of
both journals. Ferguson Mosley. It seems Mama
Jean had one last request of Andrik and Willetta.
They were to find out exactly who Ferguson Mosley
was. Willetta was completely lost. She had never
heard the name before. Andrik was not. He'd
already read that Ferguson Mosley was his mother's
father.
Why would Mama Jean want them to talk
to his grandfather? Had he not disowned him and
his mother? Was he even still alive?
Thoroughly disgusted and disappointed,
Willetta and Andrik dragged themselves to their
separate bedrooms. The closure they had
anticipated had not come with the final journal.
Instead there were only more questions. They
murmured good night, blew out the candles and left
the wine glasses where they were.
#
Samuel watched the two young adults drag
past the living room. They didn't notice him sitting
in the shadows. A smile lit his lips and he wanted
to laugh.
"Those two are in for such a surprise," he
whispered into the darkness. "I hope they can
survive it long enough to find out the truth."
He settled into his chair more comfortably
and decided he loved his job. He'd learned a lot
about life with this case and he would come out not
just monetarily richer, but most importantly,
spiritually richer. This case had solidified his belief
in God.
CHAPTER 45
After five days in the hotel, Vivica was fed
up. Samuel was keeping her posted, but she wanted
to see Chance. She packed her suitcase and called a
cab. It would cost her a small fortune to travel to
Thompson's Estate, but she had her money ready
and her mind made up.
Clarksdale was a depressing little town and
coupled with her depressing circumstances, one
more night in the dismal hotel would have made her
irreparably loopy. When she called, Samuel took a
moment away from the phone to ask if it was okay
for her to come out. He came back and excitedly
told her the time was right for her to make her
appearance.
Vivica thought it was rude on his part not to
offer to come get her, but she counted her blessings
and settled into the backseat of the non-too-clean
taxi.
She hoped Willetta wasn't living in a
dilapidated establishment with outdoor plumbing.
She couldn't phantom the country living being any
better than the city living she'd seen of Clarksdale,
Mississippi.
If Clarksdale was an indicator, poor
Chance was probably living off of fried rabbit over
a fire pit.
She shuddered and tried to tell herself to
relax. She'd lived in Mississippi before. Housing in
Mississippi ran the gamut of the extremely
impoverished to the lavishly wealthy. Orlando had
been upper middle class when they lived in
Batesville, Mississippi. She'd enjoyed a fine home
and nice things, but her personal life had been
tumultuous. The fighting and arguing that went on
behind their closed doors had culminated into an
emergency room visit, which changed her life. At
that point, she would have lived in a one-room, dirtfloor shack to get away from Orlando. It had
almost come to that until Mama Jean came along.
Vivica smiled when she thought about
Mama Jean. She had been a very mysterious lady.
She'd given Vivica her instructions regarding
Chance and had faithfully sent them money every
month. With her help Vivica had gone back to
school to become an RN. When she finished
school, she told Mama Jean to stop sending the
money. Mama Jean had sent a characteristically
mysterious letter stating the money was Chance's
and would be put aside until he came into it.
Mama Jean's attorney, Mr. Samuel Gray,
sent her a letter a couple of weeks back stating that
Mama Jean had died. The news had been
surprisingly heartbreaking and sad to Vivica.
Things only got worse as she read that she was
instructed in Mama Jean's last will and testament to
be present at the funeral and to bring Chance. The
letter hinted that Chance's circumstances would
change drastically now that Mama Jean had died. It
said that Mama Jean had "planned for her death to
set into motion extraordinary events in the lives of
the people she loved."
Vivica's lips curled up in a self-deprecating
smirk, "I'm sure I'm not one of those people."
#
"Samuel, what do you know about Ferguson
Mosley," Andrik asked. He and Samuel were
standing in the backyard watching a fox that Samuel
had excitedly spotted out in the field.
"He's your grandfather," Samuel said
carefully. He had received his instructions from
Mama Jean and he was not to lead. He was to be
honest and let them find their own way to the truth.
"I know that, but why would Mama Jean
finish her journals like that. Telling both of us to
find out who he is," he asked. "He disowned me
and my mom when I was first born. Is he even
alive?"
"Yes, Andrik. He's alive," Samuel said.
"Do you know where he lives," he asked.
Samuel looked out into the field and could
still see the pointed ears of the fox. He wondered if
he was chasing a rabbit or some other small
creature. He wanted to venture into the tall weeds
of the field to follow him, but he wasn't sure what
he'd do if the fox decided to chase him for lunch.
So, he stayed with Andrik in the low cut grass of the
backyard.
"He's in the same nursing home Mr. Ricky
was in. Maybe Mr. Ricky can tell you something
about him," he said quietly.
Andrik instantly mentally declined that
option. He didn't know where he stood emotionally
with Mr. Ricky. He no longer hated the old man.
He didn't exactly want a relationship with him
either. He felt detached. It was as if he lived in one
world and Mr. Ricky lived in another. There could
be no crossing of the boundaries.
His feet shifted and he and Samuel fell into
an awkward silence. Minutes passed as they
watched the fox leaping through the tall grass.
Andrik heard the gates opening up and Samuel
followed him as he headed to the front yard.
They watched as a middle-aged woman
climbed out of a taxi and handed the cab driver fare
money. She was of slim build. The suit she wore
was pristine in appearance and her hair was severely
combed back from her forehead into a tight bun at
the nape of her neck. Her dark brown skin glistened
in the sun as she turned towards the house. She had
a look of acute relief on her face and when she saw
them her full lips spread into a radiant smile.
"That's Vivica. Chance's grandmother,"
Samuel said under his breath to Andrik.
Before they reached her, Chance came
bounding out of the house dragging Willetta with
him.
"Grandma, Grandma! This is my momma,"
he yelled.
Willetta and Vivica stared at each other. In
the spirit of most women, it took them less than
thirty seconds to weigh and measure one another.
Willetta grinned into the older woman's face and
won her heart instantly. Vivica opened her arms
and held her close to her for a small while. Then
she began to cry. She fell completely apart before
everyone's eyes. The tears wouldn't stop flowing
and even she couldn't say whether she was crying
from sadness or joy and in the end she decided it
must have been from both.
Willetta wiped Vivica's face with her bare
hands and said, "You stop that crying. Everybody's
okay now, Vivica. We're all okay."
Andrik and Samuel watched in amazement
as Willetta wrapped her arm around Vivica's waist
and walked her into the house. Chance followed
closely behind them. The expression on his face
was priceless and unforgettable. The joy of a
hundred little boys radiated like the sun from his
huge smile."

CHAPTER 46
"Okay family," Samuel began. "The bottom
line to Mama Jean's will is that before any money is
dispersed two things have to happen. Chance has to
meet all of his living parents. I'm talking, momma,
daddy, and every living grandparent from grands to
greats."

He stopped and looked around the living
room. Everyone was letting this sink in. Chance
looked excited as any eleven year old boy would be.
This was a grand mystery and he was actually living
it.

"I can't tell you what the second thing is. I
argued with Mama Jean that she could shipwreck
this whole thing with the next stipulation, but she
was adamant. She knew her mind and she was
determined. I can tell you this. If things don't go as
she planned, a lot of money will be tied up for a
long time," he finished.

Chance sat squeezed in between Vivica and
Willetta. He was a happy camper about it too.
Andrik was sitting on the chair close to the
fireplace. His long legs stretched virtually into the
middle of the cozy little living room. Samuel stood
by the fireplace. Gwenneth sat on the hearth next to
her husband.

Olivia and Aunt Octavia," Willetta said.
"Yes," Samuel said. "But there is one more
living relative he has to meet."
"Who," Andrik asked.
"He has a living grandfather," Samuel said
mysteriously.
"Cut the crap, Samuel," Willetta said.
"Enough of this mystery game. Who is it?"
"Well since you asked me directly, it is not
against the rules for me to answer that. Ferguson
Mosley is Stanley's father," he said slowly.
Andrik felt that he had been punched in the
stomach. Bile rose up and threatened to spew out of
his mouth. He sat up slowly and tried to drown out
the sudden ringing in his ears. His eyes locked with
Willetta's and the horror he saw on her face
mirrored his own feelings.
"That's Andrik's grandfather," she said
dumbly.
"He's your grandfather too," Samuel said.
"No," Andrik hissed. "We do not have the
same grandfather."
He stood up. Everybody cringed at the look
of violence on his face. No one said a word as he
stormed out of the house. They all sat in frozen
silence as the sound of squealing tires broke the
silence.
"Where is he going," Chance asked. He was
the only one unaware of the implications of the new
revelation. He, Samuel and Gwenneth were the
only one with a regular heartbeat.
Vivica squeezed Willetta's cold fingers and
silently conveyed her sympathy. She'd seen the
way Andrik and Willetta watched one another. It
was obvious they were in love. She hoped they
hadn't had sex and she hoped even more there was a
simple explanation that would make this potentially
incestuous situation unlikely.
#
Mr. Ricky heard the car and saw the
headlights a second before the door crashed open.
He and Martha were sitting at the table eating a late
night snack of peanut butter and crackers and milk.
His already unsteady hands dropped the crackers at
the sudden violent intrusion.
Andrik stood in the doorway staring at
Martha. Mr. Ricky knew the anger he was seeing,
because it was his kind of anger. He didn't know
who the boy would manhandle first. He hoped it
was him and not Martha.
"Both of you get up and come with me," he
growled.
"Where we going, son," he said.
Andrik blinked and looked at him closely
for the first time.
His chest rose and fell with his
efforts to maintain control. His eyes narrowed and
he continued to stare mutely at the old man sitting at
the table.
The eyes, nose, and mouth were all the
same as his. His eyes shifted to Mr. Ricky's hands.
They were, once again, his hands. The color of his
skin was dark as spades just like his. Andrik
realized he was looking into the future. He would
age just like this. This would be him when he
turned seventy or eighty. He looked away.
His voice was calmer when he said, "We're
going to the Big House. We have some questions
for Ms. Martha."
Martha put her cup down. She knew exactly
what this was all about. There was only one piece
of news that would put such a look of rage on
Andrik's face. They'd found out who Stanley's
father was.
"I see Mama Jean ain't left no stone
unturned. Let me get Stanley's letters," she said.
It was ten minutes before Andrik finally got
the two old people into the car. His patience was at
the snapping point, but he was definitely composed
again. He drove a safe speed back to the house and
no one was more thankful than Mr. Ricky and
Martha.
#
"I ain't saying a word until you let me read
my Stanley's letter. Andrik been thinking all these
years that Stanley hated him. I want him to know
what Stanley really hated," Martha said. She stood
in the center of the living room.
Andrik held his head in his hands. He could
hear Willetta crying quietly on the couch. He
wouldn't look at her. He had gone from anger to
dismay. His chest hurt and he wanted to take
Martha's letters and tear them to shred. He'd
dragged her down here to hear only one thing from
her lips. He wanted her to say that Ferguson
Mosley was not Stanley's father.
Instead she was
reading a letter from Stanley.
"…I know Andrik is a good boy, but he
reminds me too much of myself. I used to
dream
my daddy would love me, but he was too busy
judging other folks and
being a hypocrite. I
heard him come in here and disown Andrik and
Anita. It
made me sick. I think Anita
probably had an affair with Mr. Ricky, because
Richard told me him and Anita were waiting
until they got married. This baby
look just like
Richard, but he look like Mr. Ricky too and you
know for yourself
that Mr. Ricky will cheat on
Mama Jean. Don't you momma? Ferguson Mosley
is mad because his son is married to his
stepdaughter. He call that incest. I wonder what
he call sleeping with one woman when he married
to another? I ain't nobody's daddy and ain't gone
be nobody's daddy. I wouldn't know where to
begin, cause I sure ain't never had no
daddy."
Willetta stood on wobbling legs and went to
Andrik. He enfolded her in his large arms and they
held on to one another. His lips blindly found hers
and the kiss would have turned into something else
if Samuel hadn't spoken.
"Okay, okay. Now we know that Ferguson
Mosley is not your grandfather, Andrik. But he is
Chance's great grandfather and he is alive.
Someone will have to take Chance to meet him and
explain to the old man exactly who he is. Any
takers," he asked.
"I'll do it," Martha spoke up. "I got some
unfinished business with the old coot anyway."
No one said anything, but practically
everyone, including Mr. Ricky, was uncomfortable
with Martha being the one to take Chance to meet
mean old Mr. Ferguson Mosley.
CHAPTER 47
Old-timers say that Ferguson Mosley was
cocky and arrogant before he became a preaching
man, but that he turned all that cockiness into
religious tyranny when he started Bible toting. It
was also rumored that his oppression on his first
and second wife were so severe that the poor
women died prematurely of heart failure.
Needless
to say, he'd outlived most of the naysayers and was
well enough for someone in their eighties.
But if the four people approaching him as he
sat in the social area of the nursing home were
familiar in anyway, he didn't show it. Martha,
Andrik, Willetta, and Chance walked right up to
him with Martha in the lead of course. It had been
decided by all that this arrangement was much safer
than sending poor Chance in alone with Martha.
"Do you know who I am," Martha asked
loudly. The elderly people sitting on various
couches and chairs turned to look their way. The
ones who kept staring at the T.V. were obviously
hearing impaired.
"Sure I know you," Mr. Mosley said without
a hint of hesitation.
"Well, what you got to say about it," Martha
said.
"I never thought you'd get this old,
momma," he said. His eyes grew round and large
as he stared up at Martha standing over him. "I'm
gone take care of you."
"I ain't none of your momma," Martha
hissed. "Don't tell me you done lost your mind,
Ferguson," she said.
"Speak up, cause I got Alzheimer's," he said.
Willetta didn't know whether to laugh or
cry. They'd spent most of the night preparing for
this meeting with the infamous Ferguson Mosley
only to find he was senile.
"I don't care if you play crazy or not. You
gone meet your children. This here is Willetta.
She's Stanley's daughter. This is Chance. He
Willetta's son. This tall handsome man is Andrik.
The child Anita had," she forged ahead.
Andrik's eyes never left the man's face and
he wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a flicker of
something like recognition before a stare of bland
confusion settled in its place.
"Hello, grandfather," Chance said. He
stepped close to Mr. Ferguson who reached out an
old and trembling hand to pat him on the cheek.
Ferguson and Chance continued to stare at one
another for a second more.
"Mr. Ferguson, we just wanted to come and
make your acquaintance. Is there anything you
need from us before we leave," Willetta said kindly.
She didn't see much sense in staying any longer. He
didn't know who they were.
Ferguson tore his eyes away from Chance to
look at Willetta. He reached his hand out towards
her and patted the back of her hand.
"You ain't the nurse that take care of me.
You new around here ain't you," he asked.
They stayed and listened to Martha berate
the old senile Mr. Ferguson for a few minutes more,
before Andrik had had enough. He wrapped his
long fingers around Martha's forearm and leaned
down to whisper in her ear. She clamped her mouth
shut and snatched her arm out of his grasp before
saying goodbye to Mr. Ferguson and wobbling
towards the door.
All in all the visit was extremely
uncomfortable and not nearly the success it should
have been. But Chance had met his grandfather and
that had been the sole purpose. No one looked back
as they walked away from Mr. Ferguson. So, no
one saw the look of desperate longing that
shadowed his face as he watched them until he
couldn't see them anymore.
#
That evening Willetta and Andrik stood
beneath the mulberry tree at Mama Jean's shack.
Mr. Ricky and Martha were at the Big house.
Willetta had asked Andrik to ride with her to the old
house. He had no idea what she was up to, but he'd
hoped fervently that it had to do with finishing what
they had started on the porch a few nights before.
Since the Ferguson scare, he'd wanted nothing more
than to make Willetta his the only way a man knew
how.
"I want to show you something," Willetta
whispered.
Andrik laughed, "Why you whispering,
Lettie?"
"I don't know," she said in her regular voice.
She hadn't realized she was whispering. She got
down on her knees and crawled around. Andrik
watched speechlessly as she grasped something in
the grass and began lifting the ground. He had to
step out of the way, as he was standing on part of it.
"What in the world," he whispered.
From her knees on the ground Willetta
looked up into his face, "Now whose whispering,"
she said.
Andrik lowered himself to the ground and
hovered over the grave with Willetta. He watched
as she began pulling books out. "This is where you
got those first journals from," he said incredulously.
"Yes. Mama Jean told me about these
journals the night before she died. She told me that
if I didn't believe in secrets not to touch them, but
believe you me after all we've been through the last
weeks, I believe in secrets. I believe in how
damaging they can be. We're getting these out and
we're going to read them."
Andrik didn't say a word. He got up off the
ground and got into the car. Willetta watched as he
backed the car as close to the grave as he could. He
popped the trunk and came back to Willetta.
"Let's get them loaded up then," he said.