The Moonshiner's Daughter (ARC)
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know that I could’ve been that smart.”
His words filled me, but not the way food did. In a good
way, because I didn’t want to get rid of them, I wanted to
hang on, hold them close. On the way home the three of us
crammed into the front seat of the truck, and rode with the
windows down, sweet mountain air filtering through.
Mrs. Brewer had come over and cooked a big welcome
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home meal, and while we were all sitting around the kitchen
table, I said, “I’ll make a run into Charlotte in a day or so.”
Daddy said, “I gotta tell you. You do sound just like your
mama.”
More words to cling to.
After I helped Mrs. Brewer clean up, Merritt and I showed
him the money we’d saved, going to all the hiding places, and counting as we went.
He said, “You hear anything out of your uncle Virgil?”
We shook our heads. “Nope.”
He said, “Just as well, I reckon. He acted the fool most of
the time. That agent said he came in there drunk and they
followed him. It’s how they got me.”
It was like he wanted me to know he didn’t blame me for
what happened. I brought up about wanting to buy a running
car.
I said, “We got more than enough saved here. There’s a ’57
Ford that might work out good if nobody buys it before we
do.”
Daddy said, “I’ll go look at it with you.”
We went the next day, and Daddy again was full of praise
for my good eye. We bought the car and I drove it home
while he and Merritt followed.
He said, “It’s your car, Jessie. What will you call her?”
I knew right away. “Lydia, after Mama.”
It caught him by surprise, and I thought his eyes shim-
mered. Well, it was all right, because my own vision blurred.
The next evening I prepared to go to Charlotte, and Merritt
and Daddy helped me load her up. These cars, well, it was
easy to think of them as family members, and I already had a special attachment to this one.
Daddy said, “We got to get Troy to make some adjust-
ments, but she’ll take right much, even now.”
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THE MOONSHINER’S DAUGHTER
347
When we were finished, surprisingly, Daddy hugged my
shoulders, his fingers kneading my bones, as if he was veri-
fying for himself my physical state, buried underneath lay-
ers of clothing. I was always cold, even though it was almost summer.
I leaned against him and said, “I’m happy, Daddy.”
I wasn’t lying.
I got in the car, and went down our drive. At the end, I
stopped, adjusted the rearview mirror, and saw him and my
brother, side by side like they were framed for a photograph.
Before I headed out, my fingertips touched the edges of
Mama’s picture on the dash, right where I could see her, like she was going along with me. I headed for Charlotte, winding around the familiar curves of Shine Mountain, smiling at the completeness, at how it had come full circle.
Over the next year, I gained a bit of notoriety when I got
tangled up with a few agents, but they could never outrun
Lydia. Daddy got Troy Dalton to do the work, and she could
go like a rocket. My driving got better and better, and every now and then, I’d see some agent in my rearview, trying once again to catch me, then simply giving up.
Daddy said, “Maybe you ought to take it on over to that
racetrack some of them boys is using. Bet you could win.”
The back roads through the hills and hollers were enough
for me.
Merritt and Lucy Morris became practically inseparable,
actually that entire group of kids he’d taken up with ever
since he’d played Captain Hook became his new crowd, while
I realized I preferred being alone. I wasn’t into what the other girls were, the dances, the boys, the dreams of being Mrs. So and So.
Mrs. Brewer had gotten to where she moved a little slower,
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said her legs bothered her, but other than that, it was me she fussed over, always trying out some new concoction I had to
drink.
She was at our house often enough Daddy said, “You ought
to just move in.”
We thought he was only kidding until he got to building a
little room off to the side, just for her, and old, scraggly Popeye. She sold her house in town, tried to give Daddy half the money, and he acted insulted by it.
“I ain’t taking no crotchety old woman’s money. How you
think that’s gonna make me feel?”
I remembered my own refusal over not taking money for
particular reasons, and when I raised my eyebrows he gave me a sheepish grin. They got along good, and I noticed he was
the only one who could make her actually laugh, which usu-
ally made me laugh because she sounded like an owl hooting.
I continued to fight the battle against my internal demon,
winning some days, losing on others. Mrs. Brewer flitted
around me, urging me to eat, always watching with a worried
look, always telling me to fight the monster.
I patted her hands, and repeated what I always said: “I’m
fine.”
The event was unexpected. My heart vibrated, a spontane-
ous thing I paid no attention to as I drove Lydia fast around a curve. The odd trembling quickened, and within my chest
came an unfamiliar pressure. Light-headed, I gripped the
steering wheel, intent on working through it like before. I
focused on the sunlight slanting across the trees, turning them so green and sharp it was like they’d been struck by lightning.
The tires squealed, then became the cry of the gulls at the sea-shore from long ago. The scent of sour mash filled my nose; I heard Merritt laugh, and watched Daddy cradling Mama. I’d
always been her daughter, and I’d become his too, bound by
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349
their love, but also by the moonshine that flowed in our veins.
A sense of relief, happiness, and peace came over me, one of lightness, the sensation of being free. My gaze locked in on Mama’s picture, and at how her face appeared to . . . shine.
Wilke Journal-Patriot, September 18, 1995
An unsolved mystery may have been settled earlier today
after the discovery of a vehicle thought to be owned by
eighteen-year-old Jessie Sasser, missing since May of 1963, was uncovered in a remote area known as Switchback
Hol er, near the popular Moravian Fal s. Construction of new condominiums planned for vacationers and tourists is underway, but was halted shortly after a bul dozer, operated by Tim Wheeler of Wheeler Construction, uncovered the
1957 Ford. Soon after, skeletal remains were discovered
inside and the Medical Examiner was brought in. The
remains have been sent off for positive identification and cause of death.
Local law enforcement in 1963 were unable to determine
the circumstances around Miss Sasser’s disa
ppearance,
although speculation it was because of an old rivalry between the Sassers and another family by the last name of Murry has circulated among locals over the years. The Sasser
family, infamous decades ago for their highly successful moonshine operation here in Wilkes County and beyond,
competed against the Murry family until the members of the latter moved away to an undisclosed location. Some locals said it was in deference to Miss Sasser, who gained notoriety even among revenuers with the Alcohol Tax Unit original y dispatched for the sole purpose of shutting down the il icit still operations that peppered the hil sides back then.
Aside from the discovery of remains, the vehicle also
revealed hidden compartments, and crates of broken jars
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under the back seat, fitting the history of such pastimes.
Because of the folklore around Miss Sasser, news of the
findings brought many locals out, including Miss Sasser’s father, Easton Murry, 75, a retired auto mechanic, and her brother, Merritt Sasser, aged 49, currently employed as a teacher at the local Pine Tops High School and a coach for the high school baseball team, despite the loss of his right arm, in what he cal ed “an unfortunate accident years ago.”
As the car was pul ed out of the ravine, a quiet hush fell over the group of spectators as father and son approached the vehicle together to each place a hand on it.
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Author’s Note
All writers joke about characters telling them what they want to do and we’re to just follow along. It happens with every
book, but I can honestly say when I began this story I hadn’t planned on writing about an eating disorder (ED). I spend a lot of time contemplating what I view as important public issues, and I will sometimes land on a possible topic as I did with this novel. I’d written the scene where Jessie Sasser was frustrated with her father’s lack of response to her persistent questions about her mother’s death. Then, as so often happens when beginning a story, I was stuck. I sat back and thought, okay, she’s verbalized her frustrations with him, how might
she show this through her actions? Within seconds, I wrote
the scene with the peach cobbler, how she kept eating, and
couldn’t seem to stop.
At first, I went along with the idea Jessie’s low self-esteem would simply be tied to weight issues. That was different,
fresh and new from my other characters in my previous nov-
els, who were all, in their own way, strong, resilient, and es-sentially healthy-minded despite the trials and tribulations I Ever_9781496717023_2p_all_r1.indd 351
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AU T HOR’ S NOT E
put them through. Jessie declared herself different almost immediately. First, it was the overeating. Then, she took over my keyboard and pounded out the first incident of purging.
And there it was. My main character was going to suffer from an eating disorder.
What did I know about eating disorders? Nothing. It goes
without saying I spent some very intense weeks studying
about bulimia, and anorexia. I learned that, similar to autism, EDs can’t be defined absolutely in black and white. There is a spectrum of disordered eating, and some individuals display behaviors associated with both anorexia and bulimia. Some
have distorted visions of their bodies. Some may binge and
purge twenty times a day, while others twice a week. Many
think they are controlling it. They get good at hiding what
they do. Very good.
I used sensitivity readers to see if I was portraying this disease accurately. I thank them immensely for opening up to
me, and what I was trying to show: the origin of the be-
haviors, the suffering, the longing for normalcy, the signs
that things have reached a critical point, and what happens
when the health of an individual is severely compromised. I
owe them a debt of gratitude. The true intent of my Author’s Note, however, is to provide links to resources where those
suffering from an ED and their families can get help. There
is always help. Please seek it if you or a loved one is at risk or suffering from an ED.
https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/
https://www.womenshealth.gov/mental-health/mental
-health-conditions/eating-disorders
https://kidshealth.org/en/parents/eating-disorders.html
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A READING GROUP GUIDE
THE
MOONSHINER’S
DAUGHTER
Donna Everhart
ABOUT THIS GUIDE
The suggested questions are included to enhance your group’s reading of Donna Everhart’s The Moonshiner’s Daughter !
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DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. At the age of four Jessie witnessed her mother’s brutal
death. As time went on, Jessie came to her own conclu-
sions as to what happened. Do you believe Jessie was des-
tined to become self-destructive because of what she saw,
or was it because she couldn’t get the answers she sought?
2. Jessie grew to hate making moonshine, and this put her
at odds with her father. Do you think his reasoning to
stay silent was justified?
3. Merritt, Jessie’s younger brother, didn’t remember their
mother’s death, and couldn’t relate to Jessie’s sorrow or
her intense dislike for what he viewed with pride, a fam-
ily legacy. What did you think of Merritt and Jessie’s re-
lationship? What did you think of how he treated Jessie?
4. Jessie’s “best” friend was Aubrey. Do you think she was
ever concerned for Jessie’s well-being, or did you find
her mostly selfish and self-absorbed?
5. The time frame is 1960, and eating disorders were not
well known. Despite lack of public awareness, Mrs.
Brewer, the school nurse, recognized it. If she could
have known Jessie at a younger age, do you believe her
herbal teas, support, and advice could have helped Jes-
sie battle “the monster”?
6. Jessie’s other family members, Uncle Virgil, Aunt
Juanita, and cousin Oral, were each responsible in their
own ways for creating discord. Of those three, who did
you view as the most harmful to Jessie?
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DI SC U S SION QU E S T ION S
7. The leather journal Jessie’s father kept with their fam-
ily’s moonshine history, as well as her mother’s picture,
became critical and important items to Jessie, giving
her a better sense of belonging and understanding.
These inanimate objects held such significance for Jes-
sie. What do you think is the reason for this?
8. Fire is a component used in various major events in the
story. Why do you believe the author chose it?
9. What did you think of the ending? Given Jessie’s be-
haviors, did this seem like the most likely outcome?
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