All Her Little Secrets, page 31
“‘. . . No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us . . .’”
Tears rushed to the surface, a powder keg of emotion that exploded.
“‘. . . for I am convinced that neither death nor life . . .’”
I wept for all the lost innocence between me and Sam. I cried for leaving him behind and heading off to find a future without him. I cried for the kid brother who never really got to be a kid at all. But mostly, I cried for all the pain I’d caused him.
“‘. . . neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God.’”
She finished and everyone eased away to give me a private moment of grief. I slipped a white rose from the spray covering Sam’s casket. It was the loneliest moment of my entire life. I only hoped he knew how much I loved him and how far I’d go to protect him and fight for him.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Gresham gently touched my arm and handed me a small packet of tissues. “Will you be okay, dear?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I patted my eyes.
Rudy walked over to me. “So the rumor machine has been buzzing again. And I don’t like what I’m hearing,” Rudy said, half joking.
“I’m sorry, but there’s no place for me there.”
“I heard there was a place for you at the top of the organization,” he said. “You know people tell me things and they told me the board wanted you to take over as CEO. Maybe help give the company a fresh start.”
“You mean another figurehead position to gloss over the mess they created?” I shook my head at the thought. “Besides, half that board is filled with racists and bigots. Nope. I’m good. Trust me, they don’t want people like you and me in there. Those protesters out in front of the building knew it all along.”
“I don’t disagree, which is why I’ve dusted off my résumé. By the way, thanks for the save. It scares me to think we worked with people like that, huh?” Rudy and I stood in silence for a beat. “So what are you going do?” he asked.
“I’m gonna take some time off. Attend to some things I’ve been neglecting. I’ll stay in touch.” I hugged him before he headed to his car.
Grace stepped up and hugged me. “I’m here for you, girl. I’ll swing by your place later today.” Then she leaned in and whispered, “What’s up with the cutie with the locs?”
She made me smile. “Good-bye, Grace. I’ll see you later.”
I looked around for Juice, but I didn’t see him so I headed to my car.
“Hey, beautiful! Wait up.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Thaddeus.” He was dressed in a sports jacket, jeans, and an open-collar shirt. The nervous butterflies were back.
He gave me a gentle smile. “Please don’t call me that. You sound like my mother and I don’t want images of my mother popping up when I look at you. Thad or Juice is just fine.”
I smiled. He was funny and that reminded me of Sam too. He walked me to my car.
“So, let’s get together again,” he said. “Maybe a nice restaurant this time instead of a gun shop backed by white supremacists.”
I bit my bottom lip. “Not right now. I need to sort out some things.”
Juice nodded understandingly. “Well, you have my number . . . and now I have yours, too.” He winked. “I’m persistent.”
I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for everything.”
Now I had one last thing to do to put my life in order.
* * *
One week later, I sat inside the office of Miriam Beazer, director at the Beachwood Assisted Care Facility. A bulletin board hung on a side wall containing sundry notes and flyers and a drawing with the words I love Nana scrawled by a child’s hand. Miriam sat across from me trying to make small talk and laughing nervously.
“You’ll sign in all the highlighted areas.” Miriam opened a folder and removed a small stack of papers before passing them across her desk to me. “Are you sure about all this, Ms. Littlejohn? This is a huge responsibility and with your career—”
“I’m very sure.” I began signing the paperwork. Somehow this decision felt right and long overdue. A lot had happened over the past couple of weeks and taking a chance on Vera felt better than anything else I’d done in a long time.
“Ms. Littlejohn, I assure you Ms. Henderson was never in any danger here at Beachwood. Safety is our—”
“I’d just prefer to take her home.” I said, never looking up from the documents as I signed them. “I think Vera will be more comfortable in familiar surroundings.”
“But who will care for her?” The concern in the woman’s voice was enough to press me to look at her.
“I will. She’s family and who better to take care of her than family?” I smiled and slid the papers back across the desk. “I’ve hired a private nurse to help me. I think Vera ought to spend these precious days on her farm, sleeping in her own bed. A place she knows and loves.”
I finished up the paperwork and left her office. In the lobby, Vera sat in a wheelchair in a flowered dress and jacket, her hair in a soft gray ponytail. She looked like a little kid on Christmas morning. Smiling. Excited. Happy.
I kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go home, Vee.” An aide pushed Vera’s wheelchair and helped me get her buckled inside the car.
People say you can’t go home again. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never considered Chillicothe home, at least not until now. I’d always been so eager to live somewhere else. To be someone else. Only now did I realize I had been on a fool’s errand. I was wounded and bound up in the crippling vise of secrets and lies. Everyone has a secret. And no matter how old the secret, it always seems to sit right on the surface of our consciousness, buoyed by all the effort we put into suppressing it. But it’s a rare secret kept in the dark that never comes into the light.
Eventually they all do.
Mine did.
The day I accepted the promotion in Nate’s office, it was as if fate struck a match and imparted a small glow onto my deadly cache. But perhaps it was all supposed to happen the way it did. My secrets slowly tumbling out into the light of day was what I needed all along to finally realize what was important. Family. Home.
Spring was still over two months away. Whether it was global warming or the fickle nature of Atlanta weather, somehow there was a pleasant rise in the air temperature and a clear blue sky to go along with it. The balmy breeze whipped around the edge of my skirt as I hopped inside the car beside Vera. I started the engine and headed for Interstate 20 East, toward Vera’s farmhouse in Chillicothe.
I opened the sunroof and let all the windows down. The fresh air rushed inside the car, sweeping across my face and blowing my coils about.
“That air feels good, Ellie.”
It did feel good.
It felt like freedom.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I thank God, whose divine hand is all over this book you hold in yours.
I set out to write a story about family and all the ways we are connected to and nurtured by one another. To that end, there is much family to thank for helping me on this journey.
To my new family: My enormously talented editor, Asanté Simons, for believing in this book from her first read and all the reads thereafter. Thank you for listening and for making me believe no question was too small or too stupid. To my incredible team at HarperCollins William Morrow, including Lucia Macro, Lainey Mays, Virginia Stanley, Chris Connolly, Liate Stehlik, Jennifer Hart, Kaitlin Harri, Christina Joell, Ploy Siripant, Diahann Sturge, Rachel Weinick, the entire Lead Read committee, and the sales team. To the woman who made all my writing dreams come true, my fierce and fantastic agent, Lori Galvin. Thank you for your wisdom, grace, and ever the right amount of honesty to rein me in or let me run free! You are an angel on earth. And a huge thanks to Allison Warren, Shenel Ekici-Moling, Erin Files, and the entire Aevitas Creative Management team. Thank you for holding my hand and guiding me through this crazy, exciting ride. To Paul Monnin for helping me get the legal ethics details right. And to moukies (your insight and wisdom are pure gold!).
To my found family: The Yale Writers Workshop, most especially Jotham Burello, Lori Rader-Day, Hallie Ephron, and Sergio Troncosco. To Brandi Wilson, Julia Dahl, and Richard Krevolin for your unflinching candor and support when reading the early pages of this book. The Association of Corporate Counsel–Atlanta Chapter Women’s Initiative, Kellye Garrett, Wendy Heard, my Pitch Wars family, and Crime Writers of Color. And to my “sister” squad: Cheryl Haynes, Angela Cox, Michonne Fitzpatrick, Cheri Reid, Juli Harkins, Rachel Gervin, Key Wynn, and Melloney Douce.
To the family I’m lucky enough to have gained by my birth and marriage certificates: Myra, Herman Jr. (“Red”), Carolyn, and everyone else in the Morris crew, and to Linda, Bertha, Paul, Michael, Sandra, and the rest of the Hightower clan. Your love and support are without limits.
To the family I gave birth to: Alexandra, Mitchell, and Ashton, my precious sweet peas. Thank you for being the greatest gifts of my life. You make me proud every single day. And without a doubt, you three are the best cheering squad ever!
And lastly, to the family I was blessed to meet and marry: Anthony Hightower, my rock and the wind beneath my wings. Your quintessential humor, quiet strength, and unwavering support have lifted me ever since our blind date all those years ago.
About the Author
WANDA M. MORRIS is an alumna of the Yale Writers’ Workshop and Robert McKee’s Story Seminar. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and Mystery Writers of America. As a corporate attorney, she has worked in the legal departments of several Fortune 100 companies. An accomplished presenter and leader, Morris has previously served as president of the Georgia chapter of the Association of Corporate Counsel and is the founder of its Women’s Initiative, an empowerment program for female in-house lawyers. Morris is a married mother of three and lives in Atlanta, Georgia. All Her Little Secrets is her debut novel.
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Praise for All Her Little Secrets
“All Her Little Secrets is a brilliantly nuanced but powerhouse exploration of race, the legal system, and the crushing pressure of keeping secrets. Morris brings a vibrant and welcome new voice to the thriller space.”
—Karin Slaughter, New York Times and internationally bestselling author
“Wanda M. Morris hits all the right notes in All Her Little Secrets, a taut, sleek thriller that’s also a searing story about the secrets we can never manage to leave behind. A stunning debut.”
—Alafair Burke, New York Times bestselling author
“All Her Little Secrets is a truly remarkable debut—an expertly paced thriller with terrific twists, as well as depth, heart, and conscience.”
—Alison Gaylin, USA Today bestselling author of The Collective
“Wanda M. Morris is the consummate storyteller, filling this riveting, relentless page-turner with her powerhouse talent and shattering insight. . . . Morris has created an instant classic. Stop everything and read this.”
—Hank Phillippi Ryan, USA Today bestselling author of Her Perfect Life
“All Her Little Secrets by Wanda M. Morris is a terrific, timely thriller you won’t be able to put down. I devoured this story faster than a plate of chicken and dumplings, and the deeply satisfying conclusion made me cheer out loud!”
—Hannah Mary McKinnon, internationally bestselling author of Sister Dear and You Will Remember Me
“Tense, taut, and relentlessly suspenseful, Wanda M. Morris’s rip-roaring debut All Her Little Secrets delivers full-throttle twists reminiscent of The Firm with the winning characters and nuanced social justice commentary of an Attica Locke novel. . . . Wanda M. Morris is the sharpest new voice in thrillers today. I’m hooked.”
—Amy Gentry, bestselling author of Bad Habits and Good as Gone
“A thriller with a heart, this novel had me turning pages late at night. It’s a fast-paced journey into the secrets we keep and the lengths we’ll go to protect our family—even at the expense of ourselves.”
—Tara Laskowski, Agatha Award–winning author of One Night Gone and The Mother Next Door
“In All Her Little Secrets, the trap tightens deftly around Ellice Littlejohn, cutting off all means of escape, and you’ll want to be there for every well-written, tension-filled minute of it. Buckle up. It’s a wild ride. . . . I cannot wait for Morris’s follow-up.”
—Tracy Clark, Sue Grafton Memorial Award–winning author of the Cass Raines Chicago Mystery Series
“A heartbreaking, heart-bursting page-turner of a book! Wanda M. Morris’s debut is a refreshing read—both entertaining and wise.”
—Rachel Howzell Hall, Los Angeles Times Book Prize Finalist for And Now She’s Gone
“Perfect for fans of Alyssa Cole and How to Get Away with Murder, this book deftly carves out a new space on the shelf as surely as its conflicted, finely wrought protagonist makes a space for herself. . . . Wanda M. Morris is an unforgettable new voice.”
—Wendy Heard, author of She’s Too Pretty to Burn and Hunting Annabelle
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ALL HER LITTLE SECRETS. Copyright © 2021 by Wanda M. Morris. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Cover design by Ploy Siripant
Cover photographs © Hayden Verry/Arcangel Images (woman); © Jun/iStock/Getty Images (girl)
Conference room photo © travelarium.ph / Shutterstock, Inc.
FIRST EDITION
Digital Edition NOVEMBER 2021 ISBN: 978-0-06-308247-2
Version 09012021
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-308246-5
ISBN 978-0-06-320433-1 (hardcover library edition)
ISBN 978-0-06-320563-5 (international edition)
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Wanda M. Morris, All Her Little Secrets
