Journals of the Secret Keeper Read Online Free PDF Page B

time they reached sixteen. There
just was not much else to do. He didn't want them
to fall into each other's arms out of simple boredom,
but he knew it could happen and most likely would.
"I was sincere, Willetta, but I don't think it's
a good idea for you to stay here with me. I can get
a hotel in Clarksdale until the funeral is over with.
I'm sure by then you'll be ready to go back to
Atlanta," he said.
"I'm here to stay. I can't go back to Atlanta
right now," she said.
"Stay? Why can't you go back to Atlanta?"
he asked. Something was up. Had she done
something illegal?
"That's my business and you can get that
look off your face. The police are not after me. It's
for personal reasons that I refuse to go back," she
said.
Andrik remained quiet. She had definitely
said that she couldn't go back and now she was
saying she refused to back. She was hiding
something.
"Why are we standing outside? The yard
looks wonderful. Let me see what you've done to
the inside of the house," she said. Willetta wanted
to change the subject.
Andrik didn't have to know
everything about her. She wasn't sure she wanted to
ever tell him that she had left a man standing at the
altar. That somehow seemed cowardly and immoral
even to her. Yes, she would keep this one secret.
Andrik let himself be distracted, because he
was excited about the changes to the house. He was
glad she had known the before and could appreciate
the after. He and Willetta went through the double
oak doors together and he watched with extreme
pleasure the surprise and wild appreciation she
showed for the many changes he'd made to
Thompson Estate.
CHAPTER 8
Volume 3, pg. 1 (February 1902):
"I
met this woman today when I went to town.
She is real pretty and smart like. She got off
the train and walked right up to me. She
wanted directions to the Negro schoolhouse.
Her name is Etta Tucker. She came all the
way from South Carolina to teach school. She
sure is pretty and sure is smart. I hope she
ain't attached."
#
"I came over here to keep from being alone.
It's being alone that makes me afraid right now,"
Willetta admitted.
The tour of the house ended at the most
luxuriously screened-in back porch Willetta had
ever seen. The swing she and Andrik shared was
custom made. It was made of threaded bamboo and
could easily fit four people. It was suspended from
a very high ceiling by thin strands of entwined
bamboo. Soft downy pillows of an assorted range
of colors were thrown about loosely upon the
massive swing. The circumference of the seat of
the swing was so wide that even Andrik's feet
barely dangled. Willetta's legs stretched straight
ahead and she was ultimately comfortable. It was
more of a swinging daybed than an actual swing.
A soothing breeze lifted from the cotton
fields, drifted through the screens, and touched
Andrik and Willetta.
"She wouldn't have wanted me to leave you
down there alone," Andrik admitted. All Mama
Jean had talked about the past six months had been
Willetta. She'd made him responsible for this
woman he didn't know. Mama Jean's pleas had
reached a level of desperation until he had relented
and summoned Willetta home the only way he
knew how. Now Mama Jean was really dead and
something had spooked Willetta.
"We have a few things to decide about
Mama Jean's burial arrangements. So, we can just
spend the next few days sorting all that out. Maybe
you'll be ready after the funeral to go back to the
house," he said kindly.
"I don't plan on staying in Mississippi
indefinitely," Willetta said. "But I am going to take
it slow and do a little reflecting before I decide what
my next step will be."
"Do you really hate Mississippi so much,"
he asked.
"I'll answer that after my soul-searching is
done. Right now I don't know how I feel," Willetta
admitted.
Willetta wanted to tell Andrik about the
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