The primary aim of the "Novel Excerpts" blog category is to showcase my creative writing, specifically from the novels I've written. Hopefully, these posts will provide a glimpse into my storytelling style, themes, and narrative skills. It's an opportunity to share my artistic expressions and the worlds I've created through my novels.
The Boaz Secrets, written in 2018, is my third novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.
Book Blurb
Fifteen year-old Matt Benson moves with Robert, his widowed father, to Boaz, Alabama for one year as Robert conducts research on Southern Baptist Fundamentalism. Robert, a professor of Bible History and new Testament Theology at the University of Chicago’s Divinity School enlists Matt to assist him as an undercover agent at First Baptist Church of Christ. Matt’s job is to befriend the most active young person in the Church’s youth group and learn the heart and mind of teenagers growing up as fundamentalist Southern Baptists.
Olivia Tillman is the fourteen year old daughter of Betty and Walter Tillman. He is the pastor of First Baptist Church of Christ. Robert and Matt move to Boaz in June 1970, and before high school begins in mid-August, Matt and Olivia become fast friends. Olivia’s life is centered around her faith, her family, and her friends. She is struck with Matt and his doubts and vows to win him to Christ. Over the next year, Matt and Olivia’s relationship blossoms into more than a teenage romance, despite their different religious beliefs.
June 1971 and Matt’s return to Chicago comes too quickly, but the two teenagers vow to never lose what they have, even promising to reunite at college in three years after Olivia graduates from Boaz High School.
The Boaz Secrets is told from the perspective of past and present. The story alternates between 1970-1971, and 2017-2018. After Matt left Boaz in June 1971, life happened and Olivia and Matt’s plans fell apart. However, in December 2017, their lives crossed again, almost miraculously, and they have a month in Boaz to catch up on forty-six years of being apart. They attempt to discover whether their teenage love can be rekindled and transformed into an adult romance even though Matt is 63 and Olivia is 61.
In 2017, Olivia and Matt are quick to learn they are vastly different people than they were as fifteen and sixteen year old teenagers– especially, when it comes to religion and faith. Will these religious differences unite them? The real issue is the secret Olivia has kept. Will Matt’s discovery destroy any chance he and Olivia have of rekindling their teenage relationship?
Chapter 8
December 7, 2017
Thursday night in the basement for James’ prayer group I had acted like a love-struck dumb teenager. I hoped Olivia hadn’t paid too much attention. Although, it was glaringly obvious to me that I had stuttered on two or three sentences, and I nearly tripped as we took our seats. Now, I had convinced myself that my being completely frozen when our eyes had first met had been matched by her own shock as her smile seemed to linger just past the time it took me to melt enough to speak.
Hopefully, for the both of us, the initial awkward moment we encountered and endured faded into memory and was replaced by a mutually rewarding conversation after the prayer service had ended. When the group dismissed, Olivia had asked me to meet her on the front steps in ten minutes. She had wanted first, to stay behind to speak with Randi Radford, Randall’s widow.
I had waited at the bottom of the stairs and was vividly reminded when she came out the front door of the old auditorium that her manner and movements were etched in my mind. They almost unerringly matched that of Olivia the 14-year-old teenager I had stood here with after first meeting her, after the skit where she suggested her, and Ryan go to her house after the movie and play cards with her family instead of going parking. Her simple descent down the stairs was (I hate the cliché), poetry in motion. She had always, to me, defined, a woman of grace.
Now, back in my hotel room, I could recall every word that had been said. “Thanks for waiting on me Matt. I’m speechless. I never imagined seeing you here. Did you know that it has been over forty-six years since we have seen each other? I have to say, that I still am so sorry for what I did to you. It’s unforgivable.”
“It is, but time has a way of creating the forgiveness. Otherwise, life is smothered. I have to admit, it wasn’t easy, and it did take a very long time.” I responded, having rehearsed this little speech forever.
“Thanks for being so respectful and kind. Can I ask you what you are doing in Boaz?” Olivia said setting her purse down and pulling on the jacket she had been holding. The temperature was approaching freezing, but I wasn’t cold at all. I could feel a bead of sweat forming on my upper lip.
“You can. I am here for James Adams. I guess the proper thing would be to include your father and brother too. I know this must be very difficult on you.” I said straightening the collar to her coat.
“It is the most awful thing I have ever encountered. I can’t imagine what, especially Wade, is going through. I will never believe he could have killed sweet Gina. You remember Gina Culvert from school? She was in your and Wade’s eleventh grade class.”
“Barely. She was a cheerleader, right?”
“Yes. Her and Wade married shortly after high school and, as far as I know, had a great marriage.” Olivia said, obviously cold. Her teeth were chattering.
“I assume you are married and have children? Hope that’s not too personal a question to ask.” Over the years I had intentionally avoided the urge to investigate Olivia. I figured it wouldn’t take a private investigator to find her and to learn about her life after she ditched me. But I hadn’t. Now, standing in front of the woman who had broken my heart, I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted her forty-six-year biography.
“I was married. Jack, Jack Crowson, my husband, died of cancer in April 2008. We never had children. I was in my late thirties when we married. He was over ten years older. Children were just not in the cards for us.”
“Olivia, you are freezing. I don’t want you to catch a cold out here.” I said thinking and hoping Olivia might suggest we go to MacDonald’s or somewhere for a cup of coffee. But, she didn’t.
“You’re right. I think I’ll head on over to Warren and Tiffany’s. They now live in the Church’s parsonage. He was Associate Pastor for years but has been pastor since 2014, I believe.”
“Thanks Olivia for talking with me. Would it be possible to find a time to share a cup of coffee? I’d love to hear more of your story, if you wouldn’t mind.” I was surprised at my courage.
“I’d love that. I have an idea. Let’s meet for lunch but for now, why don’t you call me in a couple of hours. That’ll give me time to warm up and to visit with Warren and Tiffany. By 10:00 p.m., I’ll be in my old room. My cell number is 706-294-7319.”
“Let me write it down.” I pulled a notepad out of my back pocket. It was a habit I had developed during my undercover work. I almost laughed out loud at my thought as I was writing down Olivia’s phone number. “I’ll call you at ten o’clock sharp.”
I walked to my car and drove to MacDonald’s for a large coffee before heading to the Key West Inn on Highway 168. I had checked in before coming to the prayer service.
I didn’t know why I had wanted coffee. I never liked it when I was hot. My encounter with Olivia had made me sweat. It wasn’t about sexual desire. I was simply nervous, extremely nervous. And when I got caught in that state, I always broke out in a sweat. By 10:00 p.m., I was back to normal. Watching nearly three episodes of Seinfeld reruns probably helped. If Kramer couldn’t make you laugh, no one could.
“Olivia, this is Matt. Is now still a good time to talk?”
“Perfect. I’m in my Crimson Tide bean-back chair. Can you believe that Mom and Dad kept my room like a shrine? It’s just like it was when I was a kid. I would have thought that Warren and Tiffany would have dismantled it. Seems like there’s plenty of bedrooms in this castle for my four grand-nephews and nieces.”
“I want to apologize. Earlier, when you mentioned your husband dying in 2008, I didn’t respond. I want to say that I am very sorry for your loss. I know what it’s like to lose a spouse.” I said, truly sorry, and in no way wanting Olivia to feel sorry for me or to prompt her to ask about Alicia.
“Sounds like we have a lot of catching up to do. I have always assumed you married.”
“Alicia and I married in 1984. Dad had introduced me to a rising star in the Divinity School. In a sense, she and I hit it off like the two of us, back in our day.”
“Children?”
“None. It’s difficult talking about it. Alicia was killed by a drunk driver. I discovered from her journal that she was, that very night, going to tell me she was pregnant. It was devastating to lose her. She was a wonderful woman. I guess I don’t have a very good record when it comes to long-term relationships.”
“Matt, that certainly wasn’t your fault. I am so sorry for your loss, you’re double loss.” Olivia said, thoughtful and clearly concerned.
“Let me ask you. Do you feel this all very strange?” I said.
“Are you referring to us? What with our meeting today after forty-six years and now talking on the phone?”
“Exactly?”
“Maybe it’s God will that I do what I should have done way back in the day.”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“To be professional about our relationship. To be open, honest, and avoid as much hurt as possible.”
“From your statement I take it that you still believe God has a plan for everything?” I had to say it. This was no place to tip-toe around the issue that, to me, had destroyed our teenage love.
“This is going to blow your mind. Are you sitting down?”
“I am.”
“Matt, I no longer believe.” Olivia said it with a confidence that had me speechless.
It took me a minute to respond. “That’s not something to kid around about.”
“I’m not kidding.” She went on to tell me a little about her journey concerning her loss of faith. I didn’t find it unusual. I had read and heard about this type thing. What was surprising was that it had happened to Olivia. The one person in the world that I would have bet my life that would have forever remained unalterably committed to Jesus, God, and Christianity.
“I don’t know what to say. I won’t say ‘I told you so.’ That would be insensitive, even mean. Maybe I’ll just say welcome to the family.”
“That’s the first sign I’ve noticed that you are still rather funny Matt Benson.” Olivia said recalling how she used to call me by my full name after she had tried to persuade me of my need to be saved.
“Let me ask you, was it an interest in science that finally convinced you?”
“Actually, that came later. Maybe I should say, it was Jack’s sickness, the cancer, that prompted my interest in reading more broadly than I ever had. In seminary, it’s slanted you know.” She tried to continue, but I interrupted her.
“Seminary? You went to seminary?”
“You really don’t know?”
“Olivia, all I know about you, other than what you have told me tonight, is what I learned back in 1970 and 1971. To be frank, after you ditched me, I promised myself that I would never do anything that would enable me to discover what was going on in your life.”
“That’s cold, but I fully deserve it. I not only attended Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Dallas, Texas, but I taught there for years, I resigned in 2010 and have been at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill since 2011. I teach Bible related subjects there but simply from a historical and not a theological standpoint.”
From here, our conversation went deeper into Olivia’s story of how she walked away from her faith. It was nearly 1:00 a.m. when the talk subsided, and our alertness faded.
“Matt, I’m about to crash. Please know how much I have enjoyed our dialog, everything about seeing you tonight. Is it too much to ask that we have lunch? I really need to tell you what happened after you returned to Chicago in the summer of 1971.”
“Olivia, I’m going to be very direct with you. These past few hours have been the best time for me in ages. I would love to see you again. I only have one request.”
“What’s that Mr. Benson?”
“That we be completely honest with each other. At this stage of my life I need and want the truth. I hate mind games. I would love to know the inside story, what went on in your head and heart. Please. Is this too much to ask?”
“Not at all. I promise to be totally open with you.” Olivia said.
“So, when is this lunch you are talking about?”
“I have commitments tomorrow. How about Saturday? A late lunch?”
“That’s good with me. I assume we couldn’t just go to the Lighthouse, could we?”
“I’m afraid that’s long gone. Funny you bring that up. I have wonderful memories of our Saturday afternoons. That place was truly a beacon among the storms for a lot of people.”
“Do you want to meet somewhere Saturday? Or, would you be okay if I came by and picked you up. We could drive somewhere together.” I again surprised myself with my boldness.
“This is sounding more like a date. Is it?”
“Only if you want it to be.” I said.
“Pick me up at 1:30 here at Warren’s. Okay?”
“See you then. Goodnight Olivia.”
“Goodnight, uh, no, good morning Matt.”
With that we ended our call. I lay across the bed and reminisced for another hour before falling asleep. If I dreamed, I don’t remember.
The Pencil Driven Life 