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Prologue

September 1989

“Well, shit.” I mumbled while pulling into the driveway. All the lights were off which meant Mama wasn’t home. I’d forgotten that it was Wednesday which meant she was at church choir practice. No surprise there. I put the car in park and glanced at my two sleeping babies in the backseat.

You can’t go back.

Through the rearview mirror, the red and purple splotches around my neck were still visible. The street lights were bright enough to catch it all. My blood shot eyes, my tear stained cheeks, and my swollen top lip. Even the finger grip bruising around my wrist hurt like hell but what ached worst of all was my heart. We nearly killed each other.

Never go back, Annie.

I turned back to look at my beautiful little boys. My pride and joy. The only good that ever came from my relationship with Jimmy.

I hadn’t been home in years. Mama didn’t agree with my decisions and all but washed her hands of me the last time we’d spoke. But I wasn’t here for me. I was here for my babies. This was the safest place for them while I got my shit together. As much as it hurt to be without them, it wasn’t fair to keep them with me. Playing my guitar on street corners for tips then sleeping in the car in back parking lots of sketchy all night convenience stores was no place for a three and one-year-old. I needed to find a job and a stable place for them, away from Jimmy and his influences. Besides, he never wanted them in the first place.

I woke up to the sound of tapping on the cold glass against my ear and it startled me. Mama was scowling from under her big straw hat with pale pink flowers tucked into the brim. It wasn’t until I rolled down the smudged window did she notice the condition of my face. Her expression immediately softened and it was clear she knew why I was there.

“Oh, child,” she reached out a hand and gently cupped my bruised jaw. “I wish you woulda' listened.” Her sympathetic blue eyes shifted to the boys and then back to me. “Get those babies inside, it’s freezin’.” Then she spun on her heels and into the house.

The next day Mama made me go down to the courthouse and file an order of protection. I knew Jimmy had so many warrants out for his arrest that he wouldn’t dare step foot anywhere near the county. He might have been a dirty rotten bastard but he wasn’t stupid. It was the reason I chose to come home however; I did as Mama asked. After that, we stayed with her for a week, which was enough time for my face to recover and the soreness to go away. Any bruising that remained could be covered with a little makeup. It also took that long for me to work up the courage to convince her to look after the boys for a little while until I could find us a place of our own.

“Why do you have to go away to do that? There’s plenty of work around here. I know Ed Jolly needs a new girl at the store. I’ll just call him up…”

“No, Mama. I need to make real money. A minimum wage job at Jolly’s Country Store ain’t gonna cut it.”

“But I’ve raised my children, girl. I’m too old to be changin' diapers.” I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Mama was forty-three and hardly old.

“Just give me a few weeks. That’s all. I’ll find a decent job and a place where the boys will be safe.” I pleaded. There was no way I could live in Haventown. I’d spent eighteen years trying to get out of there and had no intentions of raising my children in a town whose religious beliefs were so overzealous they bordered on creepy.

The silence between us went on for what felt like an eternity. I waited while she creaked back and forth in her rocking chair while the faint, yet familiar sounds of choir music played in the background. The entire moment reminded me of all the times I'd sat here being lectured about my evil ways as a teenager. I wasn’t sure if it was the stifling heat in the room or sheer nervousness that cause sweat to bead on my upper lip. I hoped for once in her life she would just give in, be the mother I needed her to be and stop punishing me. I'd already beat myself up enough over my mistakes and I didn't need her to help me feel any worse.

“One month, Annetta Lynn. That’s all I can allow. If you can’t provide a good home for those children by then, it’s best you turn them over to somebody who will. You know Pastor Davis and his wife would gladly take them in.”

Mama did have a loving nature when she chose to show it, but she could also be selfish. I knew with certainty that she would try to offer her own grandchildren over to her pastor as a way to stay in his good favor. I swallowed the metallic taste of my own blood while biting down on my tongue. It took everything I had not to give her an earful of what I thought about her religion, and not to mention Pastor Davis. I wanted to shout how I would rather die before I let her turn my babies over to him.

“Not gonna happen. I’ll come back before then.” My words coming out clipped as I tried to even my tone. Instead of pushing my luck, I reminded myself that she had at least agreed to help me and that had to be enough.

“One month, child,” she said, opening the worn bible that had been resting on her lap. “I mean it.” Then she put her reading glasses into place and began flipping pages, a sign that she was finished with the discussion.

“Yes, Mama. One month. All the time I need.”


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