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.