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 9
July 1970
I spent the next 65 or so hours thinking of nothing but Olivia and her question. If all I had to do was fulfill my promise to Dad, gather information for his research project, my work would be a piece of cake. Things were radically different now. Somewhere along the way, ever since Dad and I arrived in Boaz and I met Associate Pastor Grantham, the mystical and mysterious Olivia had invaded my mind and heart. I think it was the three weeks it took to meet her. This gave the double M’s enough time to sprout, root, and evolve into a life-force that saddled up against my initial promise and equally competed for my time and attention. Not to say my heart. My twin mission now was to fulfill my commitment to Dad while at the same time win the heart of the most beautiful and captivating girl I had ever met.
On Thursday, I had pretty much convinced myself to lie to Olivia, to answer her ‘have you been saved?’ question with a resounding yes. I had anticipated that this approach would avoid a mountain of interrogation and allow me to focus on my mission to become Olivia’s boyfriend. I was confident I could pull this off. I probably knew more about the Bible than anyone, well, maybe except Olivia, but I could act the part of a dedicated Christian. I was excited about my decision and my plan. Then, Mother showed up. I could never do this, the lying, to her. She, with her Catholic teachings, had instilled in me the importance of truth, of always being honest with myself and others.
On Friday, my mind had settled on answering no. I would say, “I’m not sure what being ‘saved’ means. Can you help me?” Oh man, this was it. Olivia would think God Himself had given her the best blessing of all. A lost young man who was open to hearing the Gospel of Christ. By the time Dad and I returned from the Dairy Queen, now, our Friday night tradition, I knew I was on the right path. ‘Can you help me?’ It was brilliant. And, I wouldn’t make it easy on her. This could take a while. She would be determined to answer every question I had no matter how long it took. A year? No problem. During this time, I could reveal to her that I was not only a gentleman, one her mother would pick out of a ‘potential boyfriend’ lineup, I was also a prince. I would become Olivia’s protector. That would surely win the hearts and minds of her parents. I knew that was imperative. Once again, Mother showed up, reprimanding me for being hellbent (not her words) on lying.
By Saturday morning, I was hopeless. All I had left, something remotely akin to a strategy to use when, no doubt, Olivia popped out what I suspected was her favorite question. ‘Are you saved?’ I would simply be honest with her. I would answer ‘no.’ And, if she continued her interrogation by asking me what I believed, I would tell her that I didn’t believe there was a God. This wouldn’t be lying. It seemed Mother had been a little vague about this strategy. She, at least according to my interpretation, had allowed me to rationalize that not telling Olivia about my promise to Dad, about me being an undercover agent of sorts, wasn’t directly relevant to Olivia’s question. I could just as easily, and honestly, be a writer, falling in love with his character while at the same time taking notes of her every word and action.
It was 2:05 p.m. before I left the house. I had already timed my bike ride to the Lighthouse. I would be there easily by 2:10 or 11. I didn’t want to be early or on time. It was better for Olivia to not think I was overly eager to please her. I hated a suck-up.
The Lighthouse was on the south end and west side of Main Street. It was next door to the First State Bank of Boaz. The building, like all along Main Street, was old. It was easy to tell this one hadn’t been well cared for over the past several years. The ceiling carried the obvious signs of multiple long-term leaks. The walls were cracking plaster that appeared to have had some recent patch work. The recently applied blue paint helped. The lingering smell didn’t. The front part of the building was crowded with odd chairs, couches, and bean-bags. Two girls, maybe thirteen years old, sat on a couch to my left and smiled and said as I entered, “Welcome stranger, welcome to the house of light.” I wanted to tip my hat, but I wasn’t wearing one. To the right, at the center and along the outer wall was a small stage. Three guys with guitars were playing and singing “Amazing Grace.” On the left wall, about midway to the rear of the building, was a half-circle wooden bar that looked like something I had constructed. I suspected all the renovation had been performed by the youth group, with little adult supervision. There were two guys sitting on bar stools, both about my age. Olivia was behind the counter. It looked like the three of them were playing cards. She looked up and said, “Hey Matt, come join us.” As I walked forward I could see the back half of the building was filled with multiple rows of chairs and a podium facing me from the back wall. I suspected this was the nerve-center of the Lighthouse, where real Christians, both adults and teenagers, shared the gospel of Christ to anyone who would sit and listen.
Olivia introduced me to Ben and Danny from Sardis, and instructed them to ‘man the bar’ while she talked with me. She motioned for me to follow her to the back towards the podium. I guess she had a lecture planned for me. “I’m glad you came.” Olivia said as she pulled us two chairs from the front row, positioned them facing each other, and moved the podium back out of the way.
“I’m glad you invited me. I was expecting more of a crowd.” I said looking shyly into Olivia’s eyes. I had to learn how to look at her. Her eyes were like magnets. If I kept staring, she would start to think I was obsessed. She would be right. Not all versions of obsession are sin.
“I forgot, there’s a preseason scrimmage tonight at the football field. I think that’s today’s competition. This afternoon there are flag football games, one for girls and one for guys.” Olivia said.
“Matt, I’ve been looking forward to hearing your story. You said Wednesday night that you would share with me your Christian experience. It’s funny, but I’ve been trying to guess what you would tell me. I’m sorry, but I even thought you might try to bamboozle me.”
“Why do you say that?” I said, a little shocked how direct and quick Olivia was to jump right into the fire.
“I’ve heard about you Yankee types. You’re rather slick and can dazzle a girl with bull.”
“I’ve heard it called bullshit.” I said.
“Me too, but I don’t talk like that.”
“I’m going to surprise you. I’m going to be honest in answering your question, your Wednesday night question. You had asked me if I was saved. The short answer is no.”
“Thanks Matt. I take back my insult. You are not the typical Yankee. Truthfully, I don’t know much about Northerners, just the typical southern rumors. I appreciate your honesty. Would you allow me, us, to talk about Christianity and how you become a Christian?”
“I’m all ears.” Here we go.
“Jesus Christ is God’s only Son. He came to make a way for every man and woman, boy and girl, to go to Heaven when they die. He, like God, was perfect, sinless. He was crucified on a cross and thereby paid the full punishment for your sin and mine. Three days later He was resurrected, came back to life, reflecting His power over the greatest enemy of all, death. Jesus now sits on the right hand of God in Heaven longing for everyone, including you Matt, to surrender to Him, and make Him Lord of your life.” Obviously, Olivia had given this little speech before.
“Olivia, is it okay for me to ask a few questions? I don’t have any intent on hurting your feelings or making you mad.”
“Oh gosh, you don’t even have to say that. This is a conversation. I doubt you could make me angry.”
“I’ve heard your story, the story you just told. My Mother was Catholic, and my Dad is a Bible professor. First, how do you know all this stuff?”
Olivia didn’t pause a second. “I have always wondered when I’m going to hear a question that either I haven’t heard before or that is difficult and perplexing. I’m still wondering, but don’t take that as an insult.” I wasn’t insulted, but I was surprised. Her response seemed unlike the goddess I had constructed in my mind.
“I don’t. Now, back to my question.” I replied. Olivia was certainly a fireball.
“Oh, didn’t I answer it already? I’ll repeat. It’s the Bible. I may have not said that directly, but I assumed even the son of a Catholic mother and a Bible professor father would know that I’ve been virtually quoting the Good News. No problem, I’ll start from scratch.”
Olivia could have become a smartass without much more practice, I thought as her blue eyes were becoming distracting.
“The Bible is God’s word. He wrote it for mankind, His children. He didn’t physically write it, but men wrote it under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost. Matt, the Bible is God’s story. It contains everything we need to know to worship God. That’s how I know all these things I shared with you.”
“How do you know the Bible is true?” I began feeling a little nauseous. Not about my work for Dad. In that regard, I was doing fine. It concerned my other mission. How on earth would I win the heart and mind of the sweet, gorgeous, and naive Olivia, by cross-examining her about the foundation of her life?
“It’s history. The Bible has been around for centuries. It was written by men who either knew Jesus or who had special revelations from God. The Bible itself says it is God’s word.” Olivia said. I suspected she fully believed what she was saying but had never truly questioned her beliefs.
“Let me ask you. Set aside the Bible for a moment. How else do you know that your story about Jesus is true?”
“Several reasons there. As I said, the Bible has been around a long time. The New Testament for nearly two thousand years. The Old Testament, probably four or more thousand years. History is full of men and women who believed the Bible and lived their lives dedicated to its teachings, with many dying for the truth of the Bible. Their testimonies cry out from history for the truth of God’s word. If it weren’t true, don’t you think we would know that by now? Also, my heart and mind tell me Jesus is real. From a child, I have heard the powerful message of Jesus Christ. When I was six years old, Jesus spoke to my heart and I was saved. Since then, my faith has grown leaps and bounds. I could tell you of tons and tons of prayers that I have seen answered. Matt, you are lost without Christ, therefore you question Him. It seems foolish to a lost man.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong. Apart from the Bible, your belief in the truth of Jesus as savior is based on your personal experiences, not on any tangible, documented evidence?” I said, realizing that I never wanted to become a lawyer. I had too much sympathy for the witness.
“This is why I brought up the Bible to begin with. Your question is not valid. The Bible is the real evidence. You can’t exclude it. That would be like saying, prove the United States is a real place but you can’t use the land we live on, the land containing the 48 connecting states.”
“So, let me see if I get this. The Bible itself is the evidence that the Bible is true?” I said.
“Absolutely, it is God’s Word, and it has withstood the test of time. I’m wrong. Stupid me. I’d go so far as to say that even if we didn’t have the Bible, I would know God exists. Matt, all you must do is look at nature, flowers, animals, the stars, everything. They all scream out that they were created. It is only basic common sense to know that the earth, and the entire universe is designed. That requires a creator. That’s exactly what the Bible tells us.” Olivia said standing up. I couldn’t tell if she was getting frustrated with me or not. She walked over and pulled the podium back to its spot.
“Would it be okay with you Olivia if we gave this a rest. I’d like to have some water, maybe go listen to the band. Those guys are pretty good.” I felt compelled to change the subject. I was not ready to continue my cross-examination. It would surely be an attack on Olivia’s logic.
“Sounds good. But first, Matt. Don’t you believe for one minute that I am finished with you. You won’t get off this easy. I like your attitude. I’m thankful you are asking questions. You realize you’re lost. You are blessed by God to be seeking the truth. Let’s go to the bar. The youth group has dubbed it the water of life well.”
The Pencil Driven Life 