Salvation: A novel based on a true story

By Avery Caswell

No one ever talks about what happened …

Summer 1971, Del Munro, a single mother of four, is struggling to make ends meet when Mother Franklin, a traveling evangelist, offers to take her daughters to the beach in Savannah.

For nine-year-old Willie June and seven-year-old Glory, restless at the end of a long, hot summer in Charlotte, it's a dream come true. To their beleaguered mother, it's a much-needed reprieve.

But what seemed like a blessing soon turns into a nightmare when the girls are pressed into service by the morbidly obese Mother Franklin whose needs are as outsized as her ambitions.

When the girls fail to return, Del, evasive about the details of her arrangement with Mother Franklin, panics. People begin to wonder if instead of sending her daughters on vacation, she sold them to the evangelist.

Based on a true story, Salvation is an evocative and unforgettable saga about stolen innocence that explores the tragic mistakes made by desperate people and the false prophets who exploit their vulnerabilities.

“...a riveting and deeply moving story... a stunning debut by an important talent.” 
—Abigail DeWitt, author of News of Our Loved Ones

“A haunting, disturbing journey through an America of misplaced hope and overvalued faith, and of surprising redemption. With gentle humor and a profound appreciation for the marginalized lives of her characters, Avery Caswell illuminates the America that’s alongside us, and which many of us rarely acknowledge.” 
—Arthur J. Magida, author of Code Name Madeleine

• Language: English
• Publisher: TouchPoint Press
• Release date: Sep 15, 2021
• ISBN: 1952816556

Book preview

Chapter 1

From a helicopter

, the place where Del Munro used to live with her four children—that part of the city known as Druid Hills—looks green and lush, an abundance of broad-leaved trees branch out over rooftops and yards. When city planners outline Charlotte’s neighborhoods on their maps, Druid Hills shapes up like the right half of a wobbly-faceted diamond, not that diamonds ever cut a high profile in Druid Hills, except maybe those obtained without the benefit of legal tender.

The Munros stayed right along the topmost border of the diamond in a compact, two-bedroom brick duplex just off Norris Avenue. Del’s mother, Mama Tina, told her daughter she was flat in over her head, living so far away from family and trying to raise four little ones on her own. But what did that old woman know, living out in the country as she did?

Staying in Druid Hills counted for something. Residents considered it every bit as fine as Myers Park, Charlotte’s richest neighborhood. Many of Del’s neighbors were veterans of the Second World War, living their version of the American Dream. On Saturday mornings, they woke to cut the grass and wash their Delta 88s and Chrysler Imperials. On Sundays, they took their families to church.

As many Sundays as she could, Del dressed her four children in their finest and took them to services around the corner at Saint Luke’s Missionary Baptist, even though some weeks it took a great deal of effort to make this happen.

One summer Sunday in 1971, before the sun was high enough to cast a shadow, Del heard Glory and Willie June fussing at each other. It was only July, and her daughters were bored and picking on each other and causing her misery. She told them to hush before they woke their brothers and went to the kitchen at the back of the house, away from the bickering. An oblong dinette table, banded by shiny chrome, filled the room. Four vinyl-covered chairs hugged its gleaming edges. A noisy Frigidaire stood next to the back door. An electric range with two working burners was wedged between the sink and a narrow row of cabinets, most of their doors long gone. On the countertop below was her radio. She switched it on and soon the noise of squabbling girls was blanketed by Reverend Ike’s velvety voice. Ain’t no sin in money! His words filled her kitchen. I like money. I need money. I want money … Say it with me now. You gotta BEE-lieve!

Oh, she did.

Every month, Del sent a dollar to the reverend’s Blessing Plan. Every month, in return, she received a new copy of ACTION! Newsletter in the mail. Remember, this is the do-it-yourself church, the headline read. The only savior in this philosophy is the God in you.

Pretty soon now, she could feel it, blessings would be falling down upon her, like summer rain, soft at first and then a deluge. Why? Because she BEE-lieved.

Del scooped two tablespoons of powdered milk into a cup of hot water and beat it with a fork, working to break apart the stubborn clumps. She cracked some real eggs, not powdered ones out of the government box, but only three because Glory didn’t ever eat her eggs at breakfast anyhow. She put her last two eggs in another pot to boil for tomorrow’s lunches. Glory would eat yesterday’s leftover biscuits if there was enough jam smeared on them. Of course, she would probably fill herself up at her Aunt Mattie’s after church. There was no denying that Mattie’s husband Wallace spoiled that girl, slipping her extra food and some of his lemonade. None of the other children got even a sip of Wallace’s lemonade. But Glory, she’d get herself a whole glass.

C’mon, Del called her daughters. Breakfast ready.

She changed the boys while the girls sat down to their scrambled eggs. Sure enough, Glory left a plateful. Del gave JoJo a bottle and told Willie June to set Tyrell in his highchair and feed him her sister’s eggs.

Glory was still pestering her sister, wanting to go on a bike ride, or over to the pool, or next door to see if their neighbor was baking some cookies or cakes.

What you gonna do is get yourselves ready for church, Del said. Go on, brush your teeth. She listened to the girls fighting over the toothpaste and thought school couldn’t start up soon enough.

Del sliced some cheese off the big orange block of surplus and wrapped that up with the hard-boiled eggs for the girls to eat when they stayed at Lottie Scott’s on Monday. If she was careful, no one would go hungry this week.

Del swept the crumbs from her kitchen table and wiped down the chairs. She buffed the shiny chrome edge of the table with the hem of her dress.

Not even her sister Mattie with her house up in Davidson had a table this shiny and new.

Rev. Ike’s voice filled the house. You can’t lose with the stuff I use!

Del and her children walked around the corner to Saint Luke’s, a church built of dull red bricks the color of bargain-priced tomato paste that sold four for a dollar. In the absence of a steeple, a sharply peaked roof thrust its way toward heaven. Its one small round window, high up in the gable, kept watch over Druid Hills, an all-seeing eye.

The building was a point of pride for the neighborhood, a far cry from the Army surplus tent where twenty-three steadfast souls had held the first service twenty years before. Those red bricks stood as a testament to faith and hard work.

And steadfast, like the building, Reverend L.D. Parker stood at the altar every Sunday in his white robe and his stole adorned with crosses and emblems in the shape of praying hands. With cheeks double-creased, hairline receding, nose flared wide at the nostrils, Rev. Parker had a kind face, one that you could trust. He’d once worked the line for General Motors, so he knew what it was to try to make ends meet. He’d worked for Charlotte schools, too, and knew where tensions strained the seams of civility. Love one another, Reverend Parker would say, and his congregation tried.

That Sunday he pointed a finger, gently, but still it poked, at those members of his flock who were allowing their children to leave high school without diplomas. Wisdom is better than jewels, he quoted Proverbs from the pulpit. And all desirable things cannot compare with her.

Even as the words left his mouth, he sensed too many heard only jewels and turned deaf ears to wisdom.

He was right.

Del watched the preacher, saw his broad face, watched his hands rise in Hallelujah. She watched everyone in the pews around her nodding their heads, raising their hands, saying their amens. She nodded her head, raised her hands, said her amen right along with them. She knew Reverend Parker, up there at the front of the church, was speaking the truth. But the words she heard were Reverend Ike’s, the radio preacher she listened to every morning while she tried to stretch her larder to feed five mouths: I like money. I need money. I want money….

After the service, Miz Moore, the Mother of the Church who at age seventy knew everything about everybody in the congregation, said, You know who Brother Parker be talking about, Delores Munro. Don’t you be letting them childrens of yours quit school. Education is the most important thing. Got to get their learning—

Del’s friend Lottie Scott interrupted the older woman. Preacherman can talk all he want about staying in school, but how anyone supposed to stay if it ain’t even start?

School ain’t starting? Del asked.

Might gone be delayed, Lottie said.

Del clutched her purse tighter. How long?

Don’t worry, Del, I keep them girls of yours till it gets back.

I can pay you once Mr. Bill give me the bonus he be promising.

Lottie was sympathetic. Dollars always a little scarce, I know.

Seems them children always be needing something. Always hungry. Then growing. Then hungry again. Can’t hardly keep no food on the table.

Over to the chicken house, you can have all the chicken feet you want, Miz Moore said. Just cut off the toes and put ’em in a pot of boiling water, serve ’em up with some rice. She smacked her lips like that was some good eating.

Much as Del didn’t want to be chopping off any chicken toes, she supposed it was better than going to Piedmont Supermarket where fryers were up to 38¢ a pound and ham was three times that. Maybe that fish man coming through this week, she said, hoping.

You mean that man, Mr. Louis? Lottie asked. He come by last Friday with a big trunk full of ice, had him some crappie for a good price. But you never know when he be back.

You right about that. Mr. Louis, he just come round when he want to.

You want yourself some food for your table, then have Mother Franklin to stay with you, Lottie said.

She coming again?

Next week, woman. Where you been at?

St. Luke’s was a stop for itinerant preachers during the summer; one of their regular visitors was Mother Franklin who held praying camps a couple weeks at a time in cities across the South. God’s truth, food had piled sky high on Del’s table when Mother Franklin had stayed with her a few years ago. The ladies in the church had cooked up a storm, each one trying to outdo the others.

Del could feel those blessings Rev. Ike promised ready to shower down upon her. Pretty soon there’d be a rainbow right over her house.

Later that day, over Sunday dinner at her sister Mattie’s place, Del said, Gone have me a guest up to my place week after next.

Who? Mattie hefted a serving of macaroni and cheese onto Glory’s plate, covering up her green beans, which was fine with Glory because green beans weren’t her favorite. She did want another pork chop though, so she stood at her aunt’s elbow waiting.

Mother Franklin, said Del. She coming through town for praying camp next week and I’m putting her up.

Mattie thought having some stranger staying at her sister’s house was nothing but a bad idea. Why you want that old woman staying with you again?

She ain’t no problem. Used to be a teacher. Del sniffed. Never showed me no meanness, no ugly, no dirty.

You asking for trouble, Mattie said.

Glory lifted her plate a little higher.

And, said Del, while she staying with us, church ladies be bringing a whole mess of food.

Mattie laughed. She so big. How you think there gone be food enough for you?

Del could not deny that Mother Franklin was large. She just be having lots of character about her, Del said in the woman’s defense.

Lot of fat what she got.

Well, fat or skinny, she famous. Peoples all over the world know bout her.

Aunt Mattie, Glory said, can I have me some—

Here, child, Del said, handing her a biscuit. Take this to your brother.

Which one?

Don’t matter. Share with Tyrell. Willie June, here, you take this one to JoJo.

He just gone spit it out, Mama, Willie June said.

Glory said, If I give Tyrell this here biscuit can I get me more meat?

You done had you a pork chop. Eat them beans, girl.

Wallace forked another chop onto Glory’s plate. Go on, now. Hitching his trousers, he said to his wife, I remember that Mother Franklin, she prayed for folks something powerful last time at that revival.

Del smiled at her sister and said how it was a comfort having a woman who was doing the Lord’s work staying in her house. Surely such a person don’t bring nothing but blessings.

• • •

Glory finished the pork chop and the macaroni and cheese but snuck into the kitchen and scraped those green beans right back into the bowl. After that, she joined her cousin Roberta who was sitting on the cool concrete floor of the carport, playing jacks.

Roberta was better at jacks than Glory. Roberta was slow and methodical. Onesie, twosie, threesie, four. She was aiming to get all the way to six today.

Glory could hardly scoop up two.

See, just bounce the ball up higher when you gots to get more, Roberta said demonstrating the maneuver for her cousin.

On her next turn Glory bounced the ball so high that it hit the ceiling of the carport, ricocheted off the wall, and bounced down the driveway.

We can’t play this next Sunday, Roberta said after Glory came back with the ball.

Why not?

I ain’t gone be here.

Where you gone be at?

At South Carolina, a whole different state.

So?

So, you ain’t never been to no other state.

Have too.

Have not. Fivesies! Where you been then? Roberta bounced the ball again, trying, but failing, to scoop up sixsies.

Charlotte! Gimme the ball, it my turn.

Charlotte just where you stay. That ain’t no other state. Roberta tried again for sixsies.

Mama! Mama, ain’t Charlotte another state?

What you talking about? Del asked, joining the two girls in the cool of the shady carport. Charlotte, that be in North Carolina.

See. Told you, said Roberta.

Stop cheating, Glory said. Gimme the ball.

Roberta, let Glory have her turn, now, Del said.

Roberta bounced the ball over to her cousin. Yeah, me and Addie and Ray and Lonnie, we all going on a vacation.

In the car on the way home that evening, Glory said, Why Roberta and them going to some other state and I have to stay here?

They coming back, Glory. They just taking a little trip. A vacation.

I want me a vacation, Mama.

We all be wanting one of those.

Del knew her sister’s children were just going to South Carolina to visit Wallace’s kin. It wasn’t a real vacation, not like going to the beach, but the fact that her nieces and nephews were going anywhere at all got her back up.

Someday soon she’d see that her children got themselves a fine vacation. Better than South Carolina, too. Once she got that bonus, they’d all go. She just needed money. Money made all the difference.

Chapter 2

Where I am, there will my servant be also.

—John 12:26

Luther was mother

Franklin’s driver. At least that’s how he thought of himself. He spent a lot of time waiting around on her; her being so big and all meant she was a slow mover. He’d stand for what seemed like hours waiting for the old woman in one churchyard or another. This time of year, when the grass was brown and crackly and clover was the only thing showing green on the ground, he would kick at it with his shoe, grinding the clover until it disappeared in the red dirt.

That’s what that fat old woman was doing to him. Grinding him down. It wasn’t like she was really paying him. He was just part of her—what’d she call it?—retinue. My driver. A plate for my driver, she’d demand and the church ladies always did provide. It wasn’t begging. But it was charity. What he’d like was a little cash in his pocket. Even when they pulled into a filling station, she’d get the bills out of her black square of a pocketbook and not let go of them ’til he was done pumping. Two dollars, she’d bawl in her wheezy old voice, and not a drop more!

Even though technically the station wagon wasn’t his, Luther watched over it like a jealous lover, noticing every little hint of trespass—fingerprints on the windows, mud on the floor, crumbs. He kept a little whisk broom under the driver’s seat and a red rag, worn soft, that he folded in half and then in thirds and tucked up under the visor. Every time they stopped for gas, he swept the floorboard on the driver side and wiped down the dash. When Mother Franklin was doing her business, he’d whisk her side of the car as well.

He was sure this dust-covered, paneled wagon would do better if they just filled it up to the top of the tank every once and again. He wasn’t anything more than a shade tree mechanic, but he knew where to poke around under the hood and it was looking like there were going to be some serious problems soon enough.

Maybe one of the Columbia churches would give them another car. If anyone could get a car from a congregation it would be Mother Franklin.

What church we doing next? Luther asked when they were back on the road.

Bethel AME, Mother Franklin said. Then we heading up in Charlotte.

Maybe one of them’ll get you a different car.

They don’t have that kinda money. Got them some plumbing though.

Who cares about plumbing? Luther said. You too fat to squeeze into the stalls anyways.

You hush your sorry mouth, Lute Jackson.

Them thighs of yours, they got so much meat you needing someone to reach between there and hold the flesh away from your stream.

Mother Franklin folded her hands across her purse and said nothing.

I’m telling you woman, I’m done slopping piss. Just ’cause you so fat don’t mean I have to be no damned orderly.

You whatever I say, Mother Franklin said.

I say no man should be attending to that, Luther said. You gotta get yourself some girl to help you.

That wouldn’t be nothing but trouble. Mother Franklin looked at him hard.

I be your driver, that’s all.

The good Lord, he had made me this way, Mother Franklin said. And the good Lord had made you to be my right hand, O unhallowed wicked one.

Do not quote Ezekiel at me, woman!

Exalt that which is low and abase that which is high.

Jesus, Lord, deliver me! Luther said, pounding the steering wheel.

A ruin, ruin, ruin, I will make of thee. Mother Franklin quoted scripture until Luther felt as if he were suffocating. A little further down the road she said, No Jesus up in heaven gone rescue you, Lute Jackson.

Luther drove for miles in silence, the hum of the tires against asphalt calming him. Just enough wind sneaked through the little side vent to keep the sweat from dripping down his neck. He liked driving. He liked not knowing where he’d be from week to week because if he didn’t know, how would anyone else?

Luther had learned to keep a low profile. He shielded his thoughts behind a pair of dark glasses and hid behind this mountain of a woman. He knew that on the bravery scale he was closer to a rabbit nibbling at lettuce than a bear grabbing a fish that was kicking or flipping or whatever it was that fish did when fetched out of the river. Still, there was a lot to be said for rabbits. Just look at ol’ Br’er, surviving by his wits. Nothing wrong with being a rabbit, long as you were smart about it.

Chapter 3

One of Del’s

jobs was working for Mr. Bill Williams, Jr., a man whose family owned a swimming pool company and a dry-cleaning business. Because Mr. Williams liked his drink, his family had put him in charge of the not-too-busy Ferncliff branch of the 60 Minutes Dry Cleaner, and because that job was not overly demanding, there were days the man caved to his demons and had to be taken care of just like a little baby, so Del would check in on him, fix him lunch and whatnot. She had another man, an older gentleman, Mr. Price, who needed care, too, but not from drinking, just from the fact he was old and shaky and alone during the days. On Tuesday, when she got to his place, she’d found him bleeding all over the floor. It had taken all the strength she had to get him up, clean the blood off him and the floor, and get him settled under fresh linens. Mr. Price should be at The Oaks instead of home, but then half her income would be gone.

Come the end of the week, Del wanted nothing more than someone to tend to her. Go on, they’d say, put your feet up. She’d take herself a little nap and then around suppertime someone would run on over to the Top Inn and get her a chicken box and she would stay on the sofa with her feet up and suck those bones dry.

Best she could do today was send the girls out to play, put the boys down for their naps and hope they’d both sleep for the same hour so she could wash her uniform dresses, sweep the floors, and get ready for Mother Franklin who was due to arrive in a few days.

Del shooed the girls outside.

Can I go over the Covingtons? Willie June asked.

Why you wanna go there? Glory asked. They so nasty they eat snails right out their yard.

Del frowned. Stop telling stories, girl.

Ain’t lying if it the truth.

Del knew it was true, she’d seen Moses Covington out there in his yard looking for snails even though their yard was mostly filled with cars instead of grass. He was always parking some fancy old Cadillac or Lincoln over there. He couldn’t park under the carport because their house was so full stuff came spilling out onto their porch and filled the carport, too.

Even though his two girls, Prissy and Perina, always had rags tied over their heads, they were forever pointing out the nice cars their daddy drove and how they had all these fine things—more than Glory and her sister Willie June had for sure.

What you doing over to the Covingtons? Del asked.

We watching a movie on the TV about a magic man, Mama. Please?

Watch it here.

But they got themselves a new color TV

Then take Glory with you.

Mama! Just Prissy and me gonna watch. Perina ain’t even there. She gone somewhere with her daddy to look at some kinda boats.

Mama, Glory said after her sister left, when we gonna get us a colored TV?

Someday, baby girl.

Why ain’t we got new stuff like they do?

Del, thinking of her

Reviews for Salvation

[desiree_reads · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

An absorbing story that really sucks you into the 1970’s time period, not to mention the Southern hot weather that can’t help but shine through. And all the more fascinating since it is based on a true story that was conveyed to the author directly from one of the young girls involved.Willie June and Glory have never seen the ocean and they can’t believe their luck when a visiting evangelist offers to take them on a vacation to the beach. Their mother, Del, thinks will be the perfect way to get the girls some summertime fun, and also give Del some desperately needed time off. The vacation quickly turns into a nightmare for both of the girls and for Del who put her all into finding just one person or clue as to where her daughters are and when they’re coming back.Recommended for fans of historical fiction of more recent eras, it should also appeal to book clubs.A big thank you to Avery Caswell, TouchPoint Press, and LibraryThing for providing a complimentary Advanced Reader Copy in exchange for this honest review.Read or planning to read Salvation? Drop me a Comment below and let me know what you thought of it!#Salvation#Avery Caswell#TouchPointPress#LibraryThing#BookShop#HistoricalFiction#LiteraryFiction#DebutNovel#BasedOnATrueStory#SouthernAuthor#SouthernSetting#2021Releases#Sep2021Releases#DesireeReads

[sunnydrk · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

The story is amazing and sooo sad. However, the delivery needs a bit of work as it was very difficult to feel engaged in the story.

[lisarhine · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I really enjoyed this book, I felt like it dragged a little in the middle, otherwise I would give a 4 star, The book Is about a single mother of 4, she has very little money, she works hard to take care of her family, always worried about having enough food to feed the family, she welcomes a so called Godly woman Into her home for a few days, because she knows the Church people will bring a lot of food over while she is letting the woman stay, before long she is deceived by this woman, the woman leaves with her 2 Daughters, the girls think they are going on a vacation to the beach, something they never get to do, soon they are treated terribly, Hungry, dirty and tiered. People start to suspect to Mother of selling the girls. The fact that this is a true story really had me feeling emotional, but I kept waiting to hear more about what all Mother Franklin was doing in these churches to the congregations, and I would have liked to hear more about the life of the Mother of the girls, with that being said, I loved the book, I was really hopeful that I would win this book, It was a good book.