Journals of the Secret Keeper by Jennifer L Ray Read Free Book Online Page B

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