Everything was in Willetta's hands. Vivica could lose Chance forever. Her heart beat erratically at the thought and she forcefully switched her ruminations to something else. Chance was undoubtedly attached to her and he was loyal to a fault. He would not allow her to be judged based on what her son had done.
She'd been the first one to tell him how hurtful rape could be and what it might have done to his mother's mental and emotional state. She'd educated him on what made men rapist and why they rarely reformed and would always be bad men. She had been the one to take him to the prison to see his father and what he was for himself. She'd wiped his tears and consoled him with her assurances that he was nothing like his father. The education of Chance Townsend had been one of much enlightenment, but no lies. It had been a willful and methodical education by a grandmother who had seen the light and embraced its ugly truth. The result was a child with wisdom in his eyes and a well of empathy in his heart. Everybody loved Chance, but none more than Vivica Townsend. #
Chance was asleep in Willetta's bed. Andrik, Samuel, and Willetta were on the back porch. The two men watched as she walked like a caged tiger from one end of the porch to the other. Samuel spoke quietly and every now and then Willetta would grunt, put her hands on her hips, stop and stare, or grab her head. She was distraught and the answers weren't coming fast enough.
"Mama Jean gave him to Orlando-therapist's mother?" she asked incredulously for the third time.
"Yes, Willetta. Vivica did not raise Orlando Jr. She divorced Orlando Sr., because he was abusive. He would not let her have her son. She moved to Atlanta, Georgia when Orlando was five."
"How did Mama Jean know the woman was in Atlanta? How did she even find out about what happened to me," she asked.
Andrik noticed she didn't use the word rape. She would probably never use it again, since meeting Chance.
"Now that is an amazing story. It's in your journals. The ones you should have read by now," Samuel said quietly. "You and Andrik have to read every one of the journals in that suitcase before any of this is finalized or even makes sense to you. I don't have all year to wait on you either. I had them read in one week."
"I've been trying to read them, but stuff keeps happening," she yelled. Suddenly she stopped in front of Andrik and said, "I'm going to be three sheets to the wind before this is all over. Andrik, what am I going to do with Chance?"
"I don't know what's going on myself, Willetta, but I do know that he needs you and wants you," he said.
"I can tell you that you definitely have a choice to make where Chance is concerned, but the decision needs to be well thought out and all the facts assimilated before you make that decision. I will have to approve the final decision and everything will have to be in Chance's favor. This case is the most complicated and sensitive case I've ever dealt with," Samuel admitted.
"So, this is about custody. I have to decide whether I want him or not? He's eleven years old. I'm sure he doesn't want to leave the woman whose been raising him," she said. Willetta could not bring herself to credit the woman as Chance's grandmother, after all she was the mother of a rapist.
Samuel took a deep breath and continued, "Orlando Jr. will be out of prison soon, Willetta. He knows about Chance and there is nothing to keep him from pursuing custody."
Willetta froze. "He could get custody of Chance with his criminal record," she asked.
"Why, yes. Rapists have parental rights in some states," he answered.
CHAPTER 43
Over the next five days Willetta and Andrik read their journals from cover to cover. Samuel and Gwenneth bought fishing gear and licenses and occupied their time at a fishing hole down the road. Chance went with them or either hung out with Mr. Ricky and Martha, who spoiled him terribly.
The weather was unseasonably warm for October, but no one was complaining. Willetta and Andrik shared the swing on the back porch as they each poured over one journal after another. The breeze from the field was cooler than the summer breezes. It was soothing and refreshing. Whenever Willetta lifted her face from the pages the wind seemed to whisper good things and she smiled into the future. Andrik was happier too. Every now and then they'd share tidbits of information neither knew, but there were no devastating surprises. Their hope was that all the bad secrets had been told.
Time was standing still for them and they both felt the strangeness of it. Their routine was to shower, dress, eat breakfast meet on the porch, read until lunch, eat lunch, back to the porch, read until supper, eat supper, back to the porch, wake up to a new day with their journals fallen to the floor, shower, dress, and eat breakfast all over again.
There was a bond developing between them. Looking into Andrik's face had become like looking into a mirror and seeing her own face. Willetta knew she had fallen deeply in love with him. Just the sight of him made her happy. She found herself touching him for no reason, watching him when she should have been reading, and smiling into his face every time his eyes rested on her.
She'd made a startling mental connection between Chance and Andrik that sent her feelings for them both spiraling out of control. If she loved Andrik, she could love Chance. Andrik and Chance were both products of rapes and both were deeply sensitive, loving individuals. Both were ready to apologize for living, when neither was guilty of a thing. They were strong and vulnerable at the same time. They adored her and loved her, when she felt she was less of a woman because of being a rape victim. They needed her as much as she needed them. For the first time in her life Willetta knew deep within her heart that everything was going to be okay.
"I'm down to the last one," Andrik's deep voice interjected upon her thoughts.
The sun was setting and he had already turned on the porch lamps and lit a few candles for her. One large mahogany hand held the last journal loosely. Willetta looked at the journal in his hand and for some strange reason wanted to commit the sight to memory. She willed herself to never forget the look of the small book in his huge hand. She lifted her eyes to his and saw a look of reticence and anticipation. They both knew Mama Jean liked surprises. That would explain her method of finalizing this business. It had been one surprise after another for them and the last journal could only mean one more surprise.
"I have two more to read," she said. "You should take a break and wait on me. Let's read the last ones together."
Andrik rested his back against the swing and laid his hand with the book in it against his thigh. He closed his eyes. Mama Jean's journals had softened him. The truth had done something no words of consolation ever could. It had given him understanding. He now felt that understanding a person took away the need to judge completely.
"I'll wait on you, Willetta," he murmured with his eyes closed. "I'll wait on you forever."
Willetta's heart skipped a beat. What was he talking about? "It's not going to take me forever to finish this journal. I'm half-way finished already. Go cook us something to eat. I should be ready to start on the last journal when you come back," she laughed.
Andrik opened his eyes and sat up. "You haven't cooked a thing since you've been here. Can you cook, Willetta," he asked.
"Yes, I can," she said indignantly.
"Prove it," he said, "I want a dirty south meal."
Willetta laughed. "Okay, okay. I can't cook like you cook, but I can boil water."
Andrik reached across the swing and grabbed her forearm. He dragged her up against his chest and pressed his lips against hers. "I hope you have other skills then and you better be glad I don't mind cooking," he said against her lips.
It had been days and days since Andrik had touched her like this and Willetta realized she'd been yearning for it. She must have relayed the thought with her eyes and body because she felt Andrik stiffen and the smile left his face. He dipped his head. His lips sealed with hers urgently. She felt his hand slide beneath her shirt and sweep across her back. The simple touch of his hand against the naked flesh of her back was powerfully arousing and Willetta wrapped h
er arms around his neck and pulled herself closer.
Andrik felt the last vestiges of his control slipping away as Willetta's soft breasts melded against his chest. The scent of her perfume filled his head as the warmth of her body drew him in. He slid his other hand up under her shirt and wrapped it around her waist. He lifted her and she straddled him. Andrik stood with her in his arms.
"What are you doing," she asked dazedly.
"I'm taking you upstairs. You do realize we are out in the open," he laughed.
Willetta had completely forgotten where she was. She hit Andrik on the chest and he dropped her.
"You go cook supper so we can finish these journals. You need to stay focused," she said.
Andrik couldn't believe it, but instead of making an argument about who lost control first, he decided she was right. They did need to finish the journals. It was in everyone's best interest. He took one last look at the woman he planned on marrying and decided he had all the time in the world to make good on that offer he'd seen in her eyes.
#
After a supper of fried catfish, macaroni and cheese, candied yams, and tossed salad, Willetta was ready to fall over and go to sleep, but Andrik was determined to start on the last journal.
Chance, Samuel and Gwenneth were home and they were making a lot of noise playing Monopoly. Samuel was winning and Chance was laughing loudly at Gwenneth's bad sportsmanship. Willetta would be happy when she and Andrik were no longer the invisible people. She really wanted to get to know her son. But Samuel had instructed everyone to leave them alone until they finished the journals. Willetta felt as if she was on punishment. She did, however, enjoy the secret smiles Chance had been sharing with her whenever she saw him. CHAPTER 44
From what she'd read so far in the journals, Chance was a wealthy kid. It seems she was too. It felt odd knowing that she no longer had to worry about money. She had not told Andrik about the trust funds. She also hadn't told him how Mama Jean had found out she'd been raped.
Orlando's father, Orlando Sr., had been the informant. He'd come to Mama Jean one night, drunk as ever, with an explanation as to where Willetta had run off to and why. Mama Jean had already figured out she was pregnant.
"Only a blind person could miss a pregnant girl. When people care about you, they look at you. I know Willetta pregnant. She ain't had her monthly in a while either. I don't know who the father is, but I will find out. God reveals everything
in his own due time."
Most of the arrangements for Chance had been spearheaded by Mr. Orlando Sr. himself. He knew his ex-wife, Vivica, would be the perfect mother for the child until Willetta could take him on. He'd provided Mama Jean with her address and phone number. Not long afterwards he'd been diagnosed with prostate cancer and died. Mama Jean had kept his secret interference to herself up until now.
"Mr. Orlando wasn't no regular drunk. He was what they call a functioning drunk. His job in the governor's office made him rich. He done left Chance half of everything he had in the world. That no-good son of his won't get nothing. The rest goes to the girl."
Willetta now understood why she had to make a decision regarding Chance. With all the money involved whoever took custody of him, would stand to benefit enormously. Motives were being called into question. She had not a doubt that she would see Orlando Jr. dead before she let him get his hands on Chance or his inheritance. She had not met Vivica yet, but she was smart enough to know that no villainous person could have raised a sweetie like Chance. She would meet her first and judge her later.
#
Andrik held the final journal in his hand once again. His thoughts were flowing and he could, for the first time in his life, make sense of his own life. Finding out how tortured his poor mother had been after being raped by her fiance's father, had been a real eye-opener.
"She asked me again why Andrik had to look so much like Richard. I know he's Ricky's baby, but he's Richard all over again for me too. It makes me happy, but it's the devil's own demons for poor Anita. She trying to make heads and tails of something that ain't got no head or tail."
He also understood the love Mama Jean had for him. She'd done more than save his life. She'd given him life as sure as his mother had given birth to him. If no one else loved him, she did. He knew that Willetta was at the center of Mama Jean's elaborate plans, but he felt he was at the core of it.
"This family ain't had nothing but tragedy to talk about. My Andrik gone rise above it. The truth gives you power to know what you stepping away from. Andrik gone know the truth and he gone step away from all this ugliness."
She'd even explained Mr. Ricky and Martha to him.
"Them two should've been married. Ricky came to me hurtin because Martha had done got pregnant by another man. I thought I was the better woman for him, but seems like I made him into a bad man. Grown folks need to listen to their hearts when they know somebody ain't for them. I knew Ricky wasn't for me, and I didn't listen. Now I ain't got Ricky or the son I had with him." #
The last journals were being read by its readers. Wine glasses sparkled in the moonlight filled with red richness. A celebration was waiting to be had upon completion of the journals. Deep frowns embedded each forehead and there was an intense silence upon the porch. The sound of pages turning was all that could be heard.
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 culmi
nated 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.
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