The Preacher

by Andrea Smith

Genres: Literary Fiction; Small Town & Rural; Southern; Crime Fiction; Suspense; evil preacher; small town suspense; inspired fiction; true crime fiction; good vs evil; brainwashed; depraved MC

Synopsis

They say evil can take many forms . . .

I learned that first hand at the age of seventeen. My mother's third husband was the preacher . . . a man of the cloth who had a secret agenda within our small Southern community.

My name is Sunny Gardner. And Layton, Alabama is my home, or least it had been until the preacher came into our lives. A minister who preached the Word, but lived a lie. But the folks in this town had closed their eyes and ears to the truth once they fell under the preacher's spell. As it turned out, I'm the one they believed was evil. I'm the one who was shamed into leaving town.

This is my story. A story of struggle and triumph and, ultimately, a story of how I saved myself and my community from the devil himself.

Adult Content 18+

Release date: June 14, 2016

Publisher: Meatball Taster Publishing, LLC

Print pages: 294

Content advisory: 18+

Sample

Prologue

Growing up in central Alabama had its perks believe it or not. Especially if you lived in rural Alabama, better known as the "sticks."

Oh, I knew that most teenage girls wouldn’t feel that way, in particular if they were used to city life, whether big or small. I can tell you they might feel differently if they'd lived the first seventeen years of their lives in Layton, Alabama like me.

I was the second child born to my mother and husband number two. My older brother, Jamie, had done the smart thing and joined the military as soon as he hit eighteen. That had been my plan as well, only things happened before I turned eighteen that changed everything. Layton, like all towns, had its secrets. For only having a population of eleven thousand, the secrets per capita were astronomical.

But don't go looking for Layton, Alabama on some map because you won't find it. You see, it actually doesn’t exist.

Well, it exists.

It just doesn't exist under that particular name. Yeah, I changed the name of the small rural town where I lived for the first seventeen years of my life in order to protect…the guilty.

And let me tell you, once you have read my story you'll understand that for yourself. In the interest of honesty, I admit that I was no angel, but who at seventeen was? I considered myself average behavior-wise. I was no goody two-shoes, but I also wasn’t a total rebellious chick by any means.

I didn’t put on false airs, or try to come off as some holier than thou person, unlike my thrice married mama. She thought she had everyone fooled. Married to husband number three, which happened to be one of the local preachers, had done a lot to repair her reputation in the community. That was one of the nice things about living in Layton. Folks there were more than happy to forgive, once you aired your dirty laundry for all to see.

And they loved Preacher Dawson. At least, they loved the man they saw every Sunday in the pulpit; the man of cloth that presented himself as a God-fearing instrument of the Almighty. The man that cleansed the souls of the young and the old down on the banks of the Tahatchapee River once a month when baptisms were conducted. The man that led the prayer at the monthly church picnics.

But that’s not really who he was; it was only who he pretended to be. If the people in this sleepy southern town knew the real man beneath his black garb and wide-brimmed preacher’s hat, they most surely would have locked their doors at night and changed their religious denomination.

No one believed that I would ever return to Layton after the scandal that had erupted nearly a year ago. At least my reckless naiveté taught me how to tough it out in order to survive, negotiate with evil when I had to, and learn to shrug off the ugliness and not let it become a part of me. I had no choice if I were to survive.

My mother had simply turned a blind eye to it all. She thought she was playing it safe, being the loyal and supportive preacher’s wife. In Avery Dawson, she felt she had met her one true love. Unlike husbands one and two, Avery was not only ambrosia for her heart, he was also manna for her soul. Yeah, Mama’s thing had always been taking the path of least resistance, even if it meant enduring the unthinkable, which eventually she would because of Avery Dawson and his pernicious soul.

My brother was smart to get the hell out of Layton after Avery came into our lives. Me, on the other hand, I reacted the only way I knew how at sixteen. I lived on the edge, occasionally pushing my limits at home and at school. Life for me had become about avoiding my home life once Avery became part of it. My mama might have been inclined to turn a blind eye to his evil, but I wasn't allowed that luxury once the truth hit me square in the face.

My story is about when they did. About when the truth about Avery Dawson came to light with his congregation witnessing the proof of his evil ways. Sure, I had helped with exposing him for the hypocrite that he was, but how could I have known how far Avery would go in his duplicitous ways? Even my own mother had betrayed me, spreading lies and turning the town against me so that Avery would continue to be held in high esteem.

Her own damn daughter.

And now I have some unfinished business back in Layton, Alabama. I’m eighteen and the year I've spent away has given me the courage to find out the truth about myself and, in doing so, I found out so much more. Maybe I did flee in shame a year ago, but I've learned a lot since then and the truth, however unpalatable it might be, has given me the raw courage and determination to set the record straight. 

I think it’s about time that I show my face again, and deal with the people I left in my wake. The people that claim to be Born Again Christians in one breath, and in the next pointing accusatory fingers at those who are innocent, and deny the truth when it smacks them in the face.

In Layton, they are big on forgiveness. But the thing is? I’m not looking for forgiveness. All I want is vindication.

CHAPTER  1

Eighteen months earlier…

Summer of 1979

The sun had left the sky as the blue Mercury Marquis pulled into the winding drive leading up to the ticket booth. The car slowed as it took its place in line. The radio was blasting the newest Rolling Stones tune and I watched as Gina expertly lit her cigarette with one hand while she rolled her window down with the other. 

In the back seat, Rene and Robin were still arguing as to whose turn it was to pay for their tickets into the drive-in movie. It was a “twin thing,” I had learned, and it was best not to get into the middle of it.

Gina coasted up to the ticket window, and flashed her sweetest smile to the cashier. He was wearing a gold shirt, and a small black bow tie. There was a plastic nametag pinned on the pocket of his shirt. Jerry. He was probably in college, working at the drive-in for the summer to help with his tuition. He didn’t appear too impressed with Gina’s smile and glanced surreptitiously into the car for a quick scan of the occupants.

“Sorry, girls. No can do. The movies are rated “X” and that means eighteen years of age or older.”

Gina took a slow, long drag off of her cigarette, French inhaling, and gave him a flirtatious smile. “Aww, c’mon Jerry. I'm eighteen, see?" she replied, flipping out her driver's license to show him.

"What about the rest of you?" he asked, peering back inside of the car. "Got I.D.'s? "

"Aww, come on now, sugar. We won’t tell if you won’t.” Her New Jersey accent was endearing to us Southerners, and I was always amazed at how worldly it made her sound.

She had moved back from Hoboken a few years ago after her parents had split. She still went back every summer to spend a month with her dad. This was her first week back.

“I’m sorry,” Jerry responded, irritation mounting, “but rules are rules. Now you need to turn the vehicle around on the right and head out so the cars behind you can get in.”

Gina, not one to give up, stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray, making sure that her candy-red nails remained ashless. She turned her full attention to Jerry. She leaned out the window, allowing him clear view of her ample cleavage from his vantage point. The white halter top she was wearing showed off her beautifully tanned skin, and accentuated her dark brown eyes. Her eyebrows, always perfectly plucked in a Scarlet O’Hara arch, now moved into a slight frown.

“But Jerry,” she cooed, “what we got here are four girls on a Saturday night, just looking to see a movie. Now you're not going to spoil our night out by being some stickler, are you?”

 Gina reached into her halter top and pulled out a wad of bills. “Hey, I bet you could use a nice tip for the great job you do, how about it?” 

Jerry was now flustered, but his eyes widened nonetheless. I wasn’t sure if that was because he got a nice glimpse of Gina’s boobs or if he was impressed with the wad of cash she pulled out. Gina rifled through the bills with one long, red fingernail, and I saw at least four ten dollar bills flash by before she stopped and pulled them out, folded them over and then stuck them in Jerry’s front pocket with a wink.

“There ya go, doll,” she purred flirtatiously.

  Jerry wasn’t sure what to think. Neither was I. He finally stepped back to the booth and returned with four tickets, handing them through the window to Gina.

“Thanks, doll,” she giggled, and the car lurched forward. 

“Geez, when did you get rich?" I asked.

“My dad, Sunny, ya know how it is. The parents, they’re all like guilty when they split for the rest of their lives apparently."

No, I didn’t know. The truth was, I hadn’t seen my father since Mama divorced him years ago. He lived in Chicago now. Mama said he had a new wife. The most he did was to pay child support. My brother had a different dad. I can’t recall him being a part of his life, either. I suppose whenever Mama cut a husband loose, they made tracks fast.

“Hey Sunny!” Rene shouted from the back seat over the music. “Are you still going with me to pick out something to wear to Randy’s party?”

 I turned my attention to the back seat while Gina searched up and down the various rows for the best space to park. Robin and Rene Marshall were twins, and while they shared identical features, their tastes in boys, clothes, and music were worlds apart. This was why either one of them always asked either Gina or myself to help with those decisions. Randy was Rene’s steady boyfriend. He would be turning eighteen the week before we started our senior year of high school.

“I can,” I replied, “as long as it’s after work.”

I worked a part-time summer job at the local Tastee-Freez. I did it for the money and to get out of the house as much as possible. My friends considered it a burden for them. They couldn’t fathom any teenager wanting to work during the summer. But I actually enjoyed the work and having my own money. That was the only way I would have any spending money since Mama didn’t believe in giving an allowance. Well, I think she did, but since she’d remarried, I noticed things she used to do for fun and for me disappeared, little by little.

“Well, how late are you working Monday? I want to get something before the stores all put their winter clothes out, ya know?”

“I’m off at three,” I replied.

“Good.” Rene was pleased. “I’ll pick you up at three then.”

“What about you, Robin?” I asked. “Are you coming with us?”

“No damn way,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “She drives me nuts with her shopping. The dance is lame. I’ve got other plans for that night.”

“Better hope the parents don’t find out,” Rene chided. I was sure I’d hear all about Robin’s plans while shopping. Those two were certainly a trip. Both were blonde, blue-eyed, and petite. In my world that was the whole package.

As for me, I was considered average height at 5’6” and my friends claimed they envied my build, but really, I didn’t give a shit about that stuff. I considered myself average on all fronts. But, at almost seventeen, my goal was to surpass average on some level or another. 

My height was average, my build was average, my looks were average, and my intelligence was average. Perhaps my life was destined for mediocrity.

My mother’s vanity was enough for the both of us. She loved when people at church commented that we looked like sisters instead of mother and daughter. She had my older brother when she was just eighteen, and I came along three years later. At thirty-eight she took pains to make sure every hair was in place, and every nail was painted perfectly.

She borrowed my makeup and clothes, which, as a preacher’s wife, I found to be a bit…unconventional, if not objectionable, although Avery didn’t seem to object as long as she presented herself more conservatively when she attended church services.

Preacher or not, a man was a man. No matter what their vocation, they all wanted a pretty woman on their arm. That’s what Mama said anyway. And a woman’s job was to make sure to please her man or else he’d stray. She wasn’t about to let that happen with the best ‘catch’ of Compton County. They had only been married for a year and my eighteenth birthday wouldn’t get here soon enough. But first I had to hit my seventeenth birthday.

 “I love your eyes,” Gina said out of the blue, glancing over at me. It was almost as if she’d been tuned into my thoughts. “They’re such a pretty shade of blue. They’re like blue ice…ya know? Like a Siberian Husky. I hate my eyes. I’m just so average.”

See what I mean? Telepathic was the word.

There was nothing average about Gina. She was just a bit shorter than me, and built like the proverbial brick shit-house. She had gorgeous and flawless olive skin, obviously passed through her Italian ancestors. Gina was way bustier than any of us, with size Double D cups as she liked to remind us as often as possible.

Her mom had remarried since they moved back here. Her stepfather, Eddie Sanders, made good money at the factory where he worked. Gina had turned eighteen this past March. She was the oldest in our group. She'd been held back a year in first grade, so we were all going into our senior year. I would turn seventeen in September, and the twins would catch up with me in October.

Gina’s mom, Gloria, was a hair stylist in town. Gloria had grown up in Layton, but they'd moved to New Jersey when Gina's dad had been transferred there when she'd been a baby. Having a hair stylist as a mother had its perks. Gina always presented the newest hairstyles and manicures as a result. Her mom didn’t load her down with a lot of chores or rules. She was a free spirit and that was what made her so much fun. My mother didn’t necessarily approve of Gina, although she had never articulated why. I think it was because Avery didn’t approve of her. He was very outspoken on things like that but he had only met Gina a handful of times. Mama explained that Avery’s gift was the ability to assess one’s soul in a matter of minutes.

Gina pulled her mom’s Mercury into a parking spot and, as luck would have it, the speaker was on my side. Crap! I hated the feeling of being blocked in.

I was majorly claustrophobic so I guess that was why. I pulled the speaker off the rack on the post outside of the window, and hung it carefully on the glass rolled halfway down on my door. The Top 40 chart was blaring from the speaker, and I adjusted the sound down a bit. 

The Showboat Drive-In was the last in the county. At one time, there had been two other drive-in movie theatres in the area, but those had closed up years back. The Showboat was notorious for playing X-rated movies and, like any teenagers, we were curious.

Except for Gina. Gina was actually the only one in our group who had experienced sex. Though she was always more than happy to share every detail with us, the movies gave us much more explicit detail than even Gina could.

This film was classic John Holmes. Not much of a plot, but it was obvious where Mr. Holmes’ talent resided. All sixteen freaking inches of it!

In this flick, Holmes was playing the owner of a plastics company that was introducing a new dildo line. He was encouraged to demonstrate the dildo in a comparison test with his own member.  Geez!

Rene was aghast in the back seat.

“Oh my God!” she screeched. “That cannot be real!” 

Robin shushed her as Holmes continued his demo on his buxom secretary from behind. The secretary was making the appropriate moans and groans as he finally succeeded in burying his full length into her.

“Ouch!” Gina screamed. “Ain’t no freakin’ way, baby!” 

The dudes in the car next to us were laughing. The driver looked over at us and stared a hole through me. “Hey there sweet thing,” he crooned. “Why don’t you come on over here and I can show you a rod bigger than that and all the magic things it can do for you?”

“Jack off, jerk!” I responded and then turned to Gina. “Why in the hell did you park next to these idiots, Gina?”

“Oh, hell, Sunny. Be cool. They’re just horny like the rest of us.  Don’t be so uptight all the time. God, who would’ve guessed your stepdaddy has already infiltrated your bad self,” she finished with a laugh.

“First of all,” I answered, trying not to be irritated, “I really don’t know what horny feels like. And secondly, my stepfather is a jerk and I’ll thank you not to mention him if you want to remain friends, that is. And lastly, I’m not uptight just because I haven’t chosen to screw someone yet, okay?”

Gina was my best friend and I loved her “like a sis,” but she had already shared with me that she lost her cherry when she was fourteen to a guy named Dennis. He promised her it wouldn’t hurt and it had. He promised her that it would clear up her complexion. Well, her complexion cleared up once her mom had taken her to a dermatologist who prescribed some tetracycline. So, I guess Gina pretty much had been played the fool. But all in all, she seemed to have taken it in stride.

Dennis had not been the last. She had recently broken up with a guy named Larry that was a few years older than her and worked at the lumberyard. Gina said that Larry just didn’t “get her,” and she was ready to explore other options.

I thanked God that Gina’s mom had the foresight to put her on birth control pills when she was fifteen, though Gina seemed very touchy about the whole subject. 

Regrettably, I made the mistake of mentioning this to my mother one day and sat through one of her horrible, fire and brimstone, if not totally hypocritical lectures on acceptable behavior. “Obviously, Sunny, Gina is not a product of proper breeding,” she had said, fanning herself with a Penny Dreadful she’d been reading. “I’m half tempted to forbid you from associating with her. You are, after all, judged by the company you keep. Do you want folks around here thinking you’re…well, some kind of white trash?”

“No, but Gina is not trash, Mama. She’s my best friend and if I can’t talk to you about things without you starting to pass judgment, then I just won’t share stuff with you at all. Is that how you want it?” Sometimes turning the tables on her worked to my advantage. I was hoping that this was one of those times.

She’d grown flustered and, thankfully, the phone rang right then killing the conversation. Still, I could tell that she wasn’t happy having Gina around after that. It was clearly evident the next time Gina had come to the house.

“What’s your mom’s freakin’ problem today?” Gina had asked.  My mother had barely returned Gina’s greeting when she stopped by to pick me up for a trip to the mall.

“Just ignore it,” I had responded casually. “She’s just mad at me and when that happens, she takes it out on everyone associated with me. C’mon, let’s split.”

“Aw, shit!” Gina said, breaking into my momentary reflection.  “I freakin’ forgot to put the cooler with the Little Kings in the backseat. It’s still in the trunk. Rene, I’ll pop the trunk, jump out and grab the cooler, huh?”

Rene scrambled out of the back seat as Gina popped the massive trunk open, blocking the view for the car parked directly behind us. Rene was apparently having some difficulty in locating the cooler, which was usually well hidden under several blankets Gina kept back there for her impromptu picnics with her dates.

“Hey, you dumb bitch, close the fucking trunk so we can see the flick!” 

“Shut your damn face!” Gina screamed right back at the car behind us filled with guys, obviously not intimidated whatsoever. She poked her head out of the car window while giving them the one finger salute in a rotational manner.

I heard more cursing and a car door slammed behind us. Rene hurriedly shut the lid of trunk, and barreled into the backseat with the cooler in tow.

She was laughing loudly as she pulled the car door shut and pushed down the lock. 

Oh, geez, what now? 

I slumped down low in the front seat, while Gina flung her door wide open, and jumped out facing the tall, blonde-haired dude that sported a tattooed arm and was carrying a can of Bud with him. 

As soon as he eyed Gina, he visibly cooled off. Standing with her arms akimbo in cut-off shorts, white halter top, which did little to conceal her double D’s, and brown eyes blazing she presented a rather lusty dilemma for the blonde hot head.

“Hey, look,” he mumbled sheepishly now, “sorry for getting loud with your friend there. Lemme make it up to you. Want a beer?” 

Damn. 

I peeked out through Gina’s window and it almost looked like he was blushing. Gina could affect guys that way. Me--I could never pull that off. Not in a million years.

“Nah, we’re good here. Rene was just getting our refreshments outta the trunk. Sorry we blocked your view like that.”

“No, no, I’m sorry for going all radical like that. Hey, my name is Craig,” he offered, wiping his right hand on his jeans before offering it to Gina. “Craig Connors at your beck and call, Ms…?”

Gina shrugged and with a dazzling smile offered her manicured hand to him almost daintily. It always amazed me the way that she could quickly transform herself from a hardened Jersey chick into a soft picture of feminine refinement.

“Gina,” she said softly. “My name is Gina Margolis.”

“Well, Gina Margolis,” Craig continued, “are you sure there isn’t something I can offer you--popcorn, a corn dog, a joint, anything? I was an ass.” 

“Why yes, yes you were, Craig,” she scolded half-heartedly, “and how un-Southern that was, but really, it’s no big deal. Tell you what, check back at intermission if you want. I may have some needs then,” she chuckled. 

She turned and got back into the car as Craig made no attempt to hide the fact he was checking her out from behind. He let out a soft wolf-whistle before he turned and went back to his car.

“Oh my God!” she giggled as she watched it all in her rearview mirror. “Is he not the most beautiful thing you’ve seen all day? God, I love guys with tats!”

“Gina, you love guys with tats, moles, scars, zits, limps. What is your point?” Robin asked, twisting the top off of her chilled bottle of Little King Cream Ale. “I mean, the fact is you LOVE guys. Period.” 

“Stop being nasty, Robin,” Gina chided, “or I won’t ask Craig if he has a friend for you at intermission.”

They both laughed while Rene tossed each of us a bottle of ale. I twisted the cap off of mine and took a long draw. I had to admit, I really don’t care for the taste of cream ale, but it was hot and I was thirsty. So it would have to do for now.

I knew that I would nurse it through the rest of the movie. What the hell? There were only a total of eight so no one would be getting drunk anyway. The best we could hope for was that good ‘ole Craig came through with a doobie at intermission.

We got back to watching Johnny Wadd Holmes and his weapon of doom as Gina called it, making appropriate comments throughout. At one point, Robin put us into a fit of giggles when she said watching him screw his nurse was giving her a tingling feeling between her legs.

Gina snorted out ale through her nose on that one. “Are you for real, Robin? I mean I get that three outta the four of us are virgins, but shit, come on. There are three bases in between, ya know?”

Here we go. Time for an update.

“Time for an update!” Gina yelled. “You first, Sunny. Tell us, Ms. Gardner, how you’ve spent your summer vacation.”

I rolled my eyes, taking another swig of my drink. “You know damn well nothing’s changed this summer, Gina. Still me. No boyfriend. No contenders on the horizon. Everything still intact here.”

“Yeah, figured that,” she said with a sigh of disappointment. “Twins?”

“Nothing new with me either, guys are jerks as far as I’m concerned. Rene got finger banged by Randy though.”

“Robin! Shut up! That was for me to tell!”

“Oh what’s the big deal?” Robin replied. “You said it wasn’t all that, anyway.”

Gina turned abruptly to face Rene. “What’s the skinny with that? You didn’t enjoy it?”

Now Rene was in the hot seat. I turned to see how she was gonna react.

She squirmed uncomfortably and then smacked her twin on the shoulder. “See?”

“Hey, I’m not here to judge, just curious,” Gina said. “So did Randy not know the basics of finger fucking or what?”

“Well, it started out okay. I mean, you know, we were making out and all, and then he was feeling me up, and then down my shorts and all, but no – it didn’t feel good. It was something about the angle I guess. I mean, hell, his knuckles were pressed up against my vagina and it hurt.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Gina replied, shaking her head. “No wonder. That isn’t the correct position for a successful finger bang. You were sitting up, right?”

Rene nodded.

“That is totally wrong. You need to be lying down, naked from the waist down, and your legs relaxed. He needs to take his time, get you kind of lathered up, and then gently ply the folds of your dirty girl and work it from there.”

“Dirty girl?” I gasped, spitting out the sip of ale I had just taken.

Gina turned back to face me. “Okay, what would you prefer I call it? Vagina? Don’t think so.”

“Pussy,” I replied without thinking.

“Ewww,” Robin said from the back seat. “I hate that word!”

“It’s better than ‘dirty girl,’” I argued. “That just sounds nasty.”

“The point is,” Gina clarified loudly, “that he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Is he still a virgin?”

“Well…yeah,” Rene said. “We both are.”

“Then take my advice and try the position I just explained. And here’s a hot tip: once he’s got two fingers up inside, have him curl them up like he’s beckoning you, and wait until you feel the fireworks hit!”

I smiled, shaking my head. Gina. Something else. “Which one are you?” I asked her.

“Huh?”

“I’m asking which one you are – Masters or Johnson?”

“Screw you, Sunny.”

CHAPTER 2

Avery Dawson switched on the porch light and peered out into the night. He turned his head to the side so that his eyes could catch a glimpse of the street, all the way to the corner. But there was nothing but darkness.

Mosquitoes and gnats were swirling around the porch light. He made a mental note to buy one of those bug zappers the next time he went to the hardware store.

The August night was quiet, thick with the Alabama humidity. The window air conditioner hummed noisily inside the living room, working hard to cool off the downstairs of their bungalow. There was another window unit upstairs in their bedroom. Sunny had one in her bedroom that was just across the hall from their room. She wasn’t allowed to turn her A/C unit on until she was in the room for the night though and tonight she was late.

Again.

“Your sixteen-year-old has missed her curfew again, Donna. The girl has no respect for rules or boundaries it seems.”

“Oh Avery,” Donna replied, uncurling her tanned legs from beneath her as she sat upright on the sofa where she’d been glued to the television. “It’s only eleven thirty-five. What’s five or ten minutes?”

Avery turned to face her, his face a mask of solemnity. He was a man of God; he took rules and regulations seriously. He had done that all of his life. Having grown up in Tupelo, Mississippi, under the strict tutelage of his father, also a minister in the Southern Baptist faith, he had learned those lessons. He had been taught the importance of adhering to the rules, and conversely the consequences of defiance.

Sometimes those consequences culminated in having a razor strap flayed against his bare back. But at the end, he had learned the lessons he was supposed to learn; and he was raised with discipline. As a result, he respected the authority of those in power; God, of course, being the highest one. It was because of this he’d made a vow to serve God and see to it that others learned to follow the straight and narrow path that would ultimately lead them to their own personal salvation.

“The point, Donna, is that the girl needs to learn to follow the rules she’s been given. Not to bend them at her whim. Five or ten minutes now, fifteen or twenty minutes next time. She has to learn self-discipline. You aren’t consistent with discipline. She knows what she can get away with when it comes to you.” His voice carried disapproval.

“But it’s summer time. It’s when she’s supposed to cut loose a little bit, honey. Wouldn’t hurt if we extended her curfew to midnight. My boy was allowed to stay out later on the weekends than she is at the same age, darlin’.”

Avery had now tensed up. Donna was too soft where her offspring were concerned. That had been evident from their first date two years ago. The boy was obviously out of control. It had been a blessing when he finally enlisted in the military a year after graduating high school. Perhaps the Navy would find a way to repair the damage done as a result of his undisciplined upbringing.

But it wasn’t too late for Sunny. Avery needed to press that upon Donna; he wanted to be a part of that process. He felt responsible now that he was part of this family to ensure that the girl reached her full spiritual potential. It was too easy these days to fall in with the wrong crowd and she had. They were wild party girls. In particular, Gina Margolis. He knew plenty about that one.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, as his grey eyes searched hers. “Because this is serious and I won’t have you making light of it.”

“Well, of course I do, Avery. I mean, I know that I haven’t been a perfect parent with my kids, but gosh almighty, I mostly had to do it on my own.”

“I understand that, sugar. But I’m here now and I’d like to think that I represent a good male influence in Sunny’s life. One that she’s been missing all of these years. It’s not too late to instill some values in her and discipline will enforce that. She needs to learn by accepting the consequences of poor choices and bad decisions.”

“Discipline?” Donna’s forehead wrinkled with confusion. “Well it isn’t as if I don’t punish her for breaking the rules, Avery. I try to pick my battles, you know? I don’t want to go to war with my only daughter. I remember how that had been with my own mama.” She shuddered at the memories that surfaced. Her mother had never approved of one damn thing she had done her entire life. She hadn’t wanted that to be the way it was between her and her own daughter.

Avery pulled Donna up from the sofa to stand before him. He framed her face with his large hands. “Listen, Donna. This is important now. You and me? Well, we need to do this together. We’re a family or at least that’s what I thought you wanted us to be.”

“Oh, I do Avery! You know that I do.”

“Okay then, you will need to trust my judgment on this. With the crowd of trash she’s running with, well, we have no idea what she’s been doing. Drinking? Smoking dope? Let’s start with curfew, okay? She has to learn there are disciplinary consequences when she breaks the rules. Do you understand?”

Donna nodded. “Yes, Avery. I understand. You do what you think is best. I trust your judgment on this. I don’t want to fail my children. I meant to be a good mother, I truly did.”

“I know, sugar. And believe me, I’m not sitting in judgment of you, not for a second. But you didn’t have a man around most of the time, and that’s where it was difficult for you to be both mother and father to your children. Just remember that discipline is a form of love. And it is for her own good, Donna. You need to remember that.”

She nodded. She knew that Avery was a good man with high moral standards. She was lucky to have him in her life; to ground her and influence her own behavior. Her past was one she wasn’t proud of but Avery hadn’t judged her at all. He had taken to her despite the sullied reputation she had earned along the way.

Her past wasn’t pretty, there was no denying that. The men that had come and gone; the failed marriages that had led to her raising her children alone. She never wanted Avery to leave her. He was the best thing that could possibly have happened to her. She even wanted to give him a child of his own. They hadn't discussed it, but she wasn’t too old to fill that dream for him if he wanted. And if he did, well she was determined she would. Right now Avery was focused on getting his congregation established, but Donna knew that a child on the way would be a welcome distraction for both of them. She was sure of it.

Avery walked over to the front window and peered out again. She could tell there was still no sign of Sunny. “I think grounding her is in order when she decides to grace us with her presence tonight. You go on to bed now. I’ll wait up for her.”

“Are you sure?” Donna asked tentatively, chewing on her bottom lip in apprehension.

“I am. Go on up to bed. I’ll wake you once she’s home." She turned and started up the staircase, turning back to face him once more. “Goodnight then, Avery.”