Read Online Journals of the Secret Keeper by Jennifer L Ray - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer L Ray
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pulled the
covers underneath her chin. The light from the
moon reflected off the wallpaper. She could see the
little flower designs of the paper and she had a
strange thought. Jean had lost her sight in the end.
Some old people lose their ability to walk, to think,
and to hear, but Jean had lost her sight. What did it
mean, if it meant anything at all and what had she
done with those journals? Andrik had to have them.
He was Jean's grandson. He didn't seem to know it
though. He certainly didn’t know who his daddy
was. Now why would Jean not tell him?
Martha had done just what Jean had asked
all those years ago. She had made Stanley marry
Anita and she had left town for good. She had been
such a coward back then; drunk, cowardly, and
irresponsible. She never asked a question, just ran
away because Jean sounded like she knew
something real awful.
Martha's momma had died a couple of years
before the accident and Jean's words reminded her
of the last conversation she had with her momma.
"I'm dyin, Martha. I need to tell you about a
memory I done had since a small child. I don't
know if it's a real memory or devil trickery, but I
needs to tell you." She had asked for a cup of water
and then took a few breaths before she continued.
"I seem to remember your grandma Etta grabbing
me up from a bed and stealing me away from my
own momma. I don't think your grandma was my
real momma and I don't think Willetta is the name
that was given me. I ain't tryin to scare you baby. I
just want you to know about that memory that's
done tortured me my whole life."
Martha remembered staying cold for days
afterwards. Her momma died within hours of that
conversation. After the funeral Martha had peered
into the faces of her family. She stared at pictures
of her momma and Grandma Etta. She saw the
resemblance between Etta and her momma just as
clear as day.
She put the thought of a kidnapping
to rest that very same day of the burying and there it
lay until Jean started talking about how much power
those journals gave her. Well, Martha was no
longer a coward. She was eighty years old and
could still see fine enough to read and she wanted
those journals. There was some reading she needed
to do since Jean wasn't here to stop her.
CHAPTER 15
Volume 14, pg.1 (January 1911):
"Etta
going to see her sister in Atlanta, Georgia. I'm
glad she gettin away. She been too quiet here
lately. She missin Willetta and blamin herself.
Maybe some time away will help her heal and
help me forgive."
#
Willetta sat in the porcelain tub and watched
the steam rise around her. The four mauve-colored,
musk-scented, bath oil beads she dropped in the
water were now dissolving before her very eyes.
The scent filled the room and promised to relax her
taut muscles.
The clock sitting on the edge of the antique
dresser and face bowl showed the time to be tenthirty. Mama Jean hadn't even been dead twentyfour hours and it seemed a whole week had passed.
Surely not enough time for an eighty-year-old
estranged friend or relative to show up with tales of
being Willetta's grandmother and Stanley's mother.
The hours had also drawn Willetta closer to
Andrik in the oddest way. They were both victims
of some past confusion and were without a clue as
to where they stood in the foray. They had come
together quietly and inexplicably as one united
force against whatever mysteries the future held.
When Willetta had returned from Mama
Jean's with the journals safely hidden in the trunk of
her car and one hidden between her stomach and the
waist of her pants, she found Andrik standing in the
yard not unlike the first time she had seen him.
He
demanded that she never leave him alone again with
Martha. Willetta had meekly apologized for
sneaking away and promised never to do it again.
She would have promised anything to keep him
from asking her any questions. It was an indicator
of the extent of his discomfiture that he hadn't.
#
Willetta stood from her bath and let the oily
covers underneath her chin. The light from the
moon reflected off the wallpaper. She could see the
little flower designs of the paper and she had a
strange thought. Jean had lost her sight in the end.
Some old people lose their ability to walk, to think,
and to hear, but Jean had lost her sight. What did it
mean, if it meant anything at all and what had she
done with those journals? Andrik had to have them.
He was Jean's grandson. He didn't seem to know it
though. He certainly didn’t know who his daddy
was. Now why would Jean not tell him?
Martha had done just what Jean had asked
all those years ago. She had made Stanley marry
Anita and she had left town for good. She had been
such a coward back then; drunk, cowardly, and
irresponsible. She never asked a question, just ran
away because Jean sounded like she knew
something real awful.
Martha's momma had died a couple of years
before the accident and Jean's words reminded her
of the last conversation she had with her momma.
"I'm dyin, Martha. I need to tell you about a
memory I done had since a small child. I don't
know if it's a real memory or devil trickery, but I
needs to tell you." She had asked for a cup of water
and then took a few breaths before she continued.
"I seem to remember your grandma Etta grabbing
me up from a bed and stealing me away from my
own momma. I don't think your grandma was my
real momma and I don't think Willetta is the name
that was given me. I ain't tryin to scare you baby. I
just want you to know about that memory that's
done tortured me my whole life."
Martha remembered staying cold for days
afterwards. Her momma died within hours of that
conversation. After the funeral Martha had peered
into the faces of her family. She stared at pictures
of her momma and Grandma Etta. She saw the
resemblance between Etta and her momma just as
clear as day.
She put the thought of a kidnapping
to rest that very same day of the burying and there it
lay until Jean started talking about how much power
those journals gave her. Well, Martha was no
longer a coward. She was eighty years old and
could still see fine enough to read and she wanted
those journals. There was some reading she needed
to do since Jean wasn't here to stop her.
CHAPTER 15
Volume 14, pg.1 (January 1911):
"Etta
going to see her sister in Atlanta, Georgia. I'm
glad she gettin away. She been too quiet here
lately. She missin Willetta and blamin herself.
Maybe some time away will help her heal and
help me forgive."
#
Willetta sat in the porcelain tub and watched
the steam rise around her. The four mauve-colored,
musk-scented, bath oil beads she dropped in the
water were now dissolving before her very eyes.
The scent filled the room and promised to relax her
taut muscles.
The clock sitting on the edge of the antique
dresser and face bowl showed the time to be tenthirty. Mama Jean hadn't even been dead twentyfour hours and it seemed a whole week had passed.
Surely not enough time for an eighty-year-old
estranged friend or relative to show up with tales of
being Willetta's grandmother and Stanley's mother.
The hours had also drawn Willetta closer to
Andrik in the oddest way. They were both victims
of some past confusion and were without a clue as
to where they stood in the foray. They had come
together quietly and inexplicably as one united
force against whatever mysteries the future held.
When Willetta had returned from Mama
Jean's with the journals safely hidden in the trunk of
her car and one hidden between her stomach and the
waist of her pants, she found Andrik standing in the
yard not unlike the first time she had seen him.
He
demanded that she never leave him alone again with
Martha. Willetta had meekly apologized for
sneaking away and promised never to do it again.
She would have promised anything to keep him
from asking her any questions. It was an indicator
of the extent of his discomfiture that he hadn't.
#
Willetta stood from her bath and let the oily
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