Journals of the Secret Keeper (4 page)

journals, but the fact that Mama Jean had been with
him all these months and obviously had not told
him, worried her. Mama Jean had never given her a
single idea of what the journals held and she had
guarded them well. Willetta had no idea what
reading them would reveal and wasn't at all sure she
was emotionally prepared. She had figured one
thing out though. The journals had some link to
her. With all the mystery regarding her mom's
disappearance and who her father was, she was
anxious to know if the journals answered those
questions. The thing that left her afraid to open the
journals was what Mama Jean's link to it all was.
She knew for a fact that Mama Jean was not her
grandmother. She had been sure many years ago
about that, but now Mama Jean, herself, had
admitted she was not her grandmother.
Willetta let her eyes roam over Andrik's
person. His eyes were closed as he relaxed against
the bamboo swing. It was odd how comfortable she
was in his presence. Willetta was not a nervous
person by nature, but she had never been an
easygoing socialite either. It took her a minute to
warm up to people, but things were different with
Andrik. She wondered what association he had
with the journals and was thankful she wasn't going
to find out that she and he were first cousins or
anything of that sort. Mama Jean had demanded
that she marry Andrik. Mama Jean was bad, but
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 mean 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