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 Stenographer, written in 2018, is my fourth novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.

Book Blurb

Walt Shepherd, a 35 year veteran of the White House’s stenographic team, is fired by President Andrew Kane for refusing to lie.

Walt returns to his hometown of Boaz, Alabama and renews his relationship with Regina Gillan, his high school sweetheart, who he had ditched right before graduation to marry the daughter of a prominent local businessman.  Regina has recently moved back to Boaz after forty years in Chicago working at the Tribune.  She is now editor of the Sand Mountain Reporter, a local newspaper.

Walt and Regina’s relationship transforms into a once in life love at the same time they are being immersed in a growing local and national divide between Democrats and traditional Republicans, and extremist Republicans (known as Kanites) who are becoming more dogmatic about the revolution that began during President Kanes campaign.

Walt accepts two part-time jobs.  One as a stenography instructor at Snead State Community College in Boaz, and one as an itinerant stenographer with Rains & Associates out of Birmingham.

Walt later learns the owner of Rains & Associates  is also one of five men who created the Constitution Foundation and is involved in a sinister plot to destroy President Kane, but is using an unorthodox method to achieve its objective.  The Foundation is doing everything it can to prevent President Kane from being reelected in 2020, and is scheming to initiate a civil war that will hopefully restore allegiance to the U.S. Constitution.

While Walt is writing a book, The Coming Civil War, he is, unwittingly, gathering key information for the Constitution Foundation.

Will Walt discover a connection between the Foundation  and the deaths of three U.S. Congressmen in time to save his relationship with Regina, prevent President Kane from being reelected as the defacto head of a Christian theocracy, and the eruption of a civil war that could destroy the Nation ?

Chapter 8

I decided to get up early and visit Mother.  I was ashamed that I had only visited her five times during the nearly two months I had been back in Boaz.  Other than the first visit, where she did smile at me when I walked in and whispered a goodbye when I left, our visits had become routine.  I would gently knock on her door, receive no response, go in, walk-over to her sitting in your lounging chair, take her right hand, hug her, and then sit in front of her in a straight-back chair, and talk about old times, hoping and waiting for any response.  There had been none, so far.  I hoped today would be different.

I signed with the receptionist at the information desk and walked two long halls back to Mother’s room.  I lightly tapped on her door and heard, “come in.”  I was temporarily encouraged but then realized when I opened the door that the words had come from a nurse’s aide.  Mother sat in her chair and looked at me.  No smile, but at least she had looked my way.

“Are you Harriet’s son?”

“I am.”

“Please tell her she needs to leave the air-conditioning set on at least 78 degrees.  I know it’s winter-time, but these rooms don’t know that.  I came in a few minutes ago and it was nearly 90 degrees in here.  If you click over to Heat, the thermostat doesn’t work, and it thinks you want to boil.  If you click over to Cool and turn down the thermostat to

78 degrees or below, the unit will keep the room temperature comfortable.  These old units need throwing away.”

“I’ll remind her when I leave. Would you be so kind, along with your team-mates, to look in on Mother?  By the way, when is Brookdale going to address the heating and air-conditioning issue?”

“We’ll try.  We have a full-house right now.  Talk to the Director about your last question.”  The aide said walking towards the door. “Don’t forget to remind her.  Her getting too hot and breathing all this stale air can cause pneumonia.  She doesn’t want that.”

“Me either.”  I said as the short and wide woman left Mother’s room.

I walked over to Mother, took her right hand and hugged her, this time kissing her on her forehead.  I pulled over the straight-back chair and sat down in front of her. She was dressed in a navy-blue jogging outfit, pants and top, the top being, to me, an overly thick sweatshirt.  I looked her in the eyes and saw a glimpse of my real mother for the first time since I returned from D.C.  I may have been simply imagining.  I’m not sure.  But, it seemed we were back on our back porch, sitting in the swing, that Sunday night, me at fifteen, and her at thirty-eight.

This glimpse and my mind recalling my conversation with the on-duty nurse I nearly bumped into turning down the last hallway on the way here, brought tears to my eyes.  That was an understatement.  I was crying.

The nurse had said Mother’s condition had deteriorated a great deal since she moved in nearly three years ago.  When she arrived, Mother could get up out of her chair, and with the use of her walker, get about in her room.  Now, she can barely sit up in her chair.  And, she has no power to move herself at all.  The nurse said that aides transfer her from her bed to her walker, from her walker to her chair, from her chair to the bathroom, even though Mother now wears diapers.  Also, she said that Mother’s near inability to speak was common for

Parkinson’s patients in the disease’s final stage—something about how it affects the throat muscles.  The biggest shocker came when the nurse said that Mother’s days here may be limited.  When the first of two things happen, inability to swallow, or when she can no longer sit up in her chair, will be the time she must transfer to a nursing home.  The nurse said Brookdale, like all other assisted living facilities, is not equipped to deal with either of these problems.  These issues require skilled nursing care, the type care provided only by a nursing home.

I took out my handkerchief and dabbed my eyes.  It took me a few minutes to suppress my crying.  This alone, that is, my crying, troubled me.  I wasn’t the crying type.  All my experience told me this.  However, I was now dealing with a whole new experience.  One, that broke my heart.  Seeing my dear mother, broken by Parkinson’s, broke my heart.

When I could finally see Mother again, she was half-pointing towards an end-table beside her chair.  There was a half-folded sheet of paper with my name written on it.

“Mom, do you want the sheet of paper?”  I asked feeling more tears about to surface.

She nodded her head, forward and back up just a little.

I took the paper and handed it towards her.  She moved her head sideways back and forth just a little.

“Do you want me to look at it?”

Another affirmative nod, which was hardly a nod at all but I knew her response wasn’t a ‘no.’

I opened the sheet and immediately recognized DeeDee’s handwriting.  It was the same that had printed my name on the outside of the paper, but I hadn’t even thought to question it.  

“Mother, I assume you want me to read this.  Is that correct?” Another affirmative nod.

DeeDee introduced what was to follow by saying that Mother had asked her to write all this down.  I glanced down to the bottom of the sheet and it was signed, “Harriett Shepherd, by DeeDee.”  Written beside her signature was the date, February 10, 2018.  It was now February 25th.

Basically, Mother’s message to me was short and simple, stay open-minded about God.  Apparently, Mother had shared with DeeDee several events that had taken place during my youth, including that infamous meeting on the back porch when I was fifteen.  Another one was the talk we had in my room after I came in at 3:00 a.m., the morning after I graduated from Boaz High School.  That meeting included her having the two of us kneel beside my bed and her praying a rather lengthy prayer which included her pleading God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit, to gift me with what she called, ‘Walt’s Damascus Road unveiling.’  At the bottom of the sheet, DeeDee had written.  “Walt, Mother had me help her get down on her knees beside her chair to pray (it took two aides to help her back up after she finished).  These are her exact words, no paraphrasing, ‘Lord, open Walt’s eyes, show him your face, please

God, give me a sign before I die.”

I reread the note and looked back up at Mother.  Now, she was the one with tears.

“Mother, you know I love you and have always respected your beliefs.  For years now, I have had a closed mind when it came to God, but I promise you, right here, right now, I’ll change that.  I’m going to be looking for that sign you talked about.  I am going to be wholly open to having my Damascus Road unveiling.”

The tears kept rolling down Mother’s cheeks.

“Mother, please believe we are back on the porch having just finished the two-hour talk we had when I was fifteen.”

Until lunchtime around 11:30, I talked, and Mother listened, slightly nodding up and down, or sideways.  At first, I shared with her the significant moments in our relationship.  My tears almost erupted when I realized the huge gap between a host of wonderful moments growing up, and now, nearly a half-century later.  While I was in college I called Mother every week.  Since leaving Charlottesville in 1976, our contact had been very sporadic, maybe eight to ten times per year.  I realized here, now, how I had broken Mother’s heart, the one person primarily responsible for my life.  

When an aide came in with Mother’s lunch tray she told me she needed my space.  I asked her to give me just a moment.  I knelt down in front of Mother, reached over, with tears in my eyes, kissed her on both cheeks, bowed my head and prayed, ‘Lord, oh Jesus, I want to hear from you.  And please, take care of my Mother.’

I squeezed Mother’s hands and stood with a flush-red wet and sloppy face.  She slowly raised her head and smiled.  I could barely breathe out the words.  “Goodbye Mother, my Queen.”  I turned and walked out of her room and down the two long hallways contemplating my next visit could be at Mother’s bedside in a nursing home.    

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 Stenographer, written in 2018, is my fourth novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.

Book Blurb

Walt Shepherd, a 35 year veteran of the White House’s stenographic team, is fired by President Andrew Kane for refusing to lie.

Walt returns to his hometown of Boaz, Alabama and renews his relationship with Regina Gillan, his high school sweetheart, who he had ditched right before graduation to marry the daughter of a prominent local businessman.  Regina has recently moved back to Boaz after forty years in Chicago working at the Tribune.  She is now editor of the Sand Mountain Reporter, a local newspaper.

Walt and Regina’s relationship transforms into a once in life love at the same time they are being immersed in a growing local and national divide between Democrats and traditional Republicans, and extremist Republicans (known as Kanites) who are becoming more dogmatic about the revolution that began during President Kanes campaign.

Walt accepts two part-time jobs.  One as a stenography instructor at Snead State Community College in Boaz, and one as an itinerant stenographer with Rains & Associates out of Birmingham.

Walt later learns the owner of Rains & Associates  is also one of five men who created the Constitution Foundation and is involved in a sinister plot to destroy President Kane, but is using an unorthodox method to achieve its objective.  The Foundation is doing everything it can to prevent President Kane from being reelected in 2020, and is scheming to initiate a civil war that will hopefully restore allegiance to the U.S. Constitution.

While Walt is writing a book, The Coming Civil War, he is, unwittingly, gathering key information for the Constitution Foundation.

Will Walt discover a connection between the Foundation  and the deaths of three U.S. Congressmen in time to save his relationship with Regina, prevent President Kane from being reelected as the defacto head of a Christian theocracy, and the eruption of a civil war that could destroy the Nation ?

Chapter 7

Kip Brewer was the U.S. Congressman from Alabama’s Forth Congressional District.  This district covered Dekalb, Etowah, and Marshall Counties, and ten other counties stretching westward to the Mississippi line.  Kip lived with his wife of twenty-seven years in Boaz, west of town in the Red Apple Community.  When he was not in Washington, D.C., or traveling in other parts of his district one would find him mending fences or remodeling the one-hundred-year-old barn his great-grandfather had built in 1919 after returning from World War I six months earlier.

Kip was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives in 1996 filling the seat of 15-term Tom Bevill.  Kip had served ever since.  He was a member of the Republican Party, a non-active member of the nonactive Tea Party Caucus, and one of only a handful of Republicans outspoken against President Andrew Kane.  Kip’s opposition wasn’t so much against Kane’s policy ideas, but against his manners and methods.  Kip believed the President of the United States, the most powerful man in the world, should conduct himself always with honor, humility, and respect.  To Kip, there was never a time the President is justified in calling names like a drunken sailor.  The full truth be known, in the center of his rationality, Kip believed Kane was wholly incompetent to serve as President.

Four hours earlier Kip and his wife Darla returned from a Town Hall meeting at the Bevill Center at Snead State Community College.  It was their last stop from a thirteen-county tour that began two weeks ago on Valentine’s Day in the northwest Alabama city of Tuscumbia.  The Bevill Center meeting had gone well, at first, with difficult but respectful questions from a well-mannered audience including thirty members of the Etowah County Democratic Party who grilled Representative Brewer on whether the Republican Party had any plans of confronting President Kane on his conduct and his involvement with the Russian attack on the 2016 Presidential election.

The meeting got ugly when Kip wholeheartedly agreed with the Democratic group.  Shouting started in the back rows on the far-right side under the balcony.  Frankie Olinger stood up and without microphone, thundered above everyone, “you Rino, don’t you know Kane is God’s man to drain the swamp.  I elected him, we elected him, to get rid of all you talk and no action puppets. You better get on board the Kane wagon or get run over.  The Revolution has started.  You’re the enemy and enemies get killed.”

It seemed every member of Frankie’s gang was present and spoke out.  He was the outspoken leader of the local chapter of Kane Tribe, a grassroots organization that sprung-up in early 2016 after Kane’s train began gaining steam.  The shouting for and against got louder and louder.  The opposition was mainly from the Etowah County

Democratic Party.  The other 600 attendees joined in as Frankie’s group approached the front and attempted to mount the stage.  It took fifteen Boaz police officers and thirty cans of pepper spray to squelch the uprising.  In the middle of the storm, Kip’s secret service team pulled him out the back exit and transported him home.

At 2:30 a.m. Kip eased out of bed, frustrated over the outburst at the Town Hall and frustrated he couldn’t go back to sleep.  He tipped toed into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee.  As it percolated, he recalled meeting Frankie Olinger in 1997 during his first campaign.  Kip’s father, a banker, had done business with Frankie and his father, helping them build a new building for Sand Mountain Tire & Battery, their automotive repair business.  Frankie had supported Kip’s initial efforts to get elected, even sponsoring a three-month radio campaign at WQSB.  Kip poured a large cup of coffee and walked outside on the back deck, flipping on the light as he stepped out into the cold and near-moonless night.  

He stood by the railing and looked out towards the old barn. He was beginning to think he would never complete the remodeling he had started in 2002, at the end of his third term in the House.  Kip started to sit down but as he turned he caught a glimpse of a light in the distance.  It was five or six hundred yards east of and beyond the barn.  It was at the edge of the woods that started along the edge of the pasture.  His mind convinced him it was some odd reflection of the moon, or possibly the aftereffects of a campfire built by a group of teenagers hanging out at the creek, though it seemed too early and too cold for that.  

Kip never heard the shot.  Just as he was sitting his coffee cup on the top rail at the back of the deck, the bullet arrived.  It’s sound trailing by only milliseconds.  The bullet’s impact exploded the mind of one of only a handful of men who stood between a Constitutional crisis, and the most narcissistic man Americans had ever sent to the Oval Office.  Kip Brewer, already dead, collapsed into a pool of brains and blood. In less than a minute Sean Miller with the Secret Service was on the deck with Kip calling 911, and radioing his team-mates to, under no circumstances, allow Darla to come outside.

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 Stenographer, written in 2018, is my fourth novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.

Book Blurb

Walt Shepherd, a 35 year veteran of the White House’s stenographic team, is fired by President Andrew Kane for refusing to lie.

Walt returns to his hometown of Boaz, Alabama and renews his relationship with Regina Gillan, his high school sweetheart, who he had ditched right before graduation to marry the daughter of a prominent local businessman.  Regina has recently moved back to Boaz after forty years in Chicago working at the Tribune.  She is now editor of the Sand Mountain Reporter, a local newspaper.

Walt and Regina’s relationship transforms into a once in life love at the same time they are being immersed in a growing local and national divide between Democrats and traditional Republicans, and extremist Republicans (known as Kanites) who are becoming more dogmatic about the revolution that began during President Kanes campaign.

Walt accepts two part-time jobs.  One as a stenography instructor at Snead State Community College in Boaz, and one as an itinerant stenographer with Rains & Associates out of Birmingham.

Walt later learns the owner of Rains & Associates  is also one of five men who created the Constitution Foundation and is involved in a sinister plot to destroy President Kane, but is using an unorthodox method to achieve its objective.  The Foundation is doing everything it can to prevent President Kane from being reelected in 2020, and is scheming to initiate a civil war that will hopefully restore allegiance to the U.S. Constitution.

While Walt is writing a book, The Coming Civil War, he is, unwittingly, gathering key information for the Constitution Foundation.

Will Walt discover a connection between the Foundation  and the deaths of three U.S. Congressmen in time to save his relationship with Regina, prevent President Kane from being reelected as the defacto head of a Christian theocracy, and the eruption of a civil war that could destroy the Nation ?

Chapter 6

I was just walking into the kitchen from the back porch when my cell phone vibrated.  It was DeeDee.  My one and only sister.  The one I loved and loathed.  

“What’s up?  You had supper?”  I could hear road noise.  She had always loved driving with her window down, no matter the weather.  It took a hard, driving rain for her to keep her window up.  She rarely ever turned on the car’s air-conditioner.  Of course, she didn’t need it now.  I was freezing outside.

“Just got here.  I have a Supreme pizza, hot and ready.  Where are you?”

“In front of Boaz Walmart heading home.  Been with Mom.”

“How was she?”

“Sleepy, listless, hopeless.  She said very little.”

“I’m going to see her tomorrow.  I hate she is so depressed.  Come by if you want.”  I instantly regretted my invitation.  I really didn’t know why.  DeeDee and I had always gotten along, if we didn’t talk about God and religion.  We had never been close, close but had great respect for each other.  One thing that kept us in the same ditch together was our mutual love for Mom, and Dad too when he was alive.  

“I’m starving.  I’ll be there in five.  Got any beer?”

“No dear.  You know I don’t drink.”

“I’ll pick some up.  You need some milk?”

“You trying to be funny?”

“See you Walton.”

Walton Alec Shepherd.  No one ever called me Walton anymore.  Also, no one called me ‘Was.’  In ninth grade, Vann had dubbed me, ‘the

Was.’  This came about in an English class where Mrs. Stamps taught us the importance of tenses in our writing.  She was concentrating on the verb ‘be.’  After she stated the past tense of ‘be’ is ‘was,’ Vann, almost instantly, said, “hey Walt, that’s you.  You, Walton Alec Shepherd, is a ‘was.’  Of course, the class burst out laughing.  Everyone except Mrs. Stamps.  Thus, the beginning of a nickname that spread like wildfire through high school.  It never failed, nearly every day, walking the halls, someone would meet me.  Their greeting was always, “hey Was, you are the past, man.”  I was (there it is) glad ‘Was’ died shortly after graduation in 1972. 

I was hungry, so I sat at the counter and was working on my second slice when DeeDee walked in with a six-pack of Coors Lite, and two gallons of milk.

“Thought you might want to make some ice-cream.”  She said looking at me with her left dimple more pronounced than I could remember.

“Thanks.  All afternoon I’ve been planning an ice-cream party.  It will take two freezers, one vanilla, the other grape.  You’re not invited.”

“Move over.”  She nudged me, and I scooted my barstool toward the wall.

We sat for the next ten minutes or so and ate pizza.  She drank a beer.  I drank a glass of milk just to play that card.  With only one slice remaining, I left it for her and walked to my chair in the den.  It was part of the kitchen, what they call a great room.  It was only an evolving idea when Mom and Dad had, in the early 1950s, remodeled the house his grandfather had built in the 1890s.  Most folks those days stuck with a separate kitchen/dining room, a separate den, and a separate living room. 

I’m glad they broke that tradition.  I loved this pine-paneled room.

DeeDee joined me and flipped on the TV.  I made her turn it off after five minutes of Fox News lauding President Kane’s loyalty to his supporters.  Apparently, this afternoon, he had signed an Executive Order commanding the Immigration and Naturalization Service to start rounding up illegal aliens, especially Hispanics, and shipping them back to Mexico.

I figured DeeDee would make a supporting comment to Kane’s action but instead she said, “I hear you and Regina may become a thing again.”

“What, what are you talking about?”

“I ran into Vann at Walmart and he told me about you guys having breakfast at Grumpy’s this morning.  Said, he had to move to another table when you started undressing Regina.”

“Oh, he’s such a jerk.”

“You know Vann, always the jokester.”

“Now, I’ve got good reason to pull a little prank on that retard.”  I said.

“Seriously, he did say that you had seen her the other night at

Walmart.”

“I did.  We talked just a few minutes.  I also saw her this afternoon.  At the Reporter.”

“You have business there?”

“She is the new editor and invited me to drop by.”

“I can see it now.  The smoldering fire erupts.  I knew those embers had never gone cold.  Is she as gorgeous as ever?”  DeeDee said moving over on the couch and propping her feet on the coffee table.

“No, actually.  She is more so.  I’m completely blown away that I still have feelings for her.”

“I’m not.  You know I never could understand why you chose Jennifer over Regina.  Jennifer had played the field before she latched on to you.  I think she wised up and knew it was time to find someone with a future.  It took her a while, but she finally realized spread-eagle in the back seat of a car wasn’t likely the best way to make a living.”

“Don’t talk about her that way.”  You have her all wrong.  She made a mistake with a guy that was three years older than her.”

“Believe what you want my dear Walton.”

“Stop calling me that, okay?”

“I’m sorry, I was out of line.  I must admit Jennifer was good to you.  You will probably never find someone more loyal and faithful to you.  She died way too young.  I do miss her.”

“I do too, but most days I try to think as she wanted me to think.  As she was dying she made me promise her that I would move on with my life.  That, I would know that she was in a better place.  I can’t believe that was nearly forty years ago.”

“Do you believe she is in a better place, in Heaven?”  DeeDee knew this was a touchy subject.  She knew that I had long given up my childhood faith.

“No.  Jennifer is dead.  She’s in the same place she was in, mentally, psychologically, before she was born.  I now, more than ever, believe that when you die, you die, and that’s it.”

“Mother still doesn’t know, does she?”

“Know what?”  I said looking and feeling perplexed.

“That you no longer straddle the fence as she called it when you were a teenager.  She doesn’t know how, what, thirty years ago, you pulled the other leg over that teetering fence?”

“I doubt it.  And, I’m not telling her.  You either, okay?”

“You know you don’t have to worry about that.  I could never hurt our dear Mother.”

“I think you are rather ignorant to continue believing in God and Christ and the Bible, but I know you have good reason.  You just know one side of the story.”

“Walton, don’t start.  I don’t want to hear it.  I know God is real. 

He talks to me every day.”

“Sis, I know you believe that.  And, I know you believe He has everything under His control.  He has a plan and it’s all good.  I get it.”

“I’m not mad but I do have to go.  Kevin’s plane should be landing in Birmingham about now.  I want to be home when he arrives.”

“He still traveling a lot?”

“Too much.  Thanks for the pizza and I hope you get serious about your Regina stalking.”

“Get out of here you lamebrain.  Love you sis.”

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 Stenographer, written in 2018, is my fourth novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.

Book Blurb

Walt Shepherd, a 35 year veteran of the White House’s stenographic team, is fired by President Andrew Kane for refusing to lie.

Walt returns to his hometown of Boaz, Alabama and renews his relationship with Regina Gillan, his high school sweetheart, who he had ditched right before graduation to marry the daughter of a prominent local businessman.  Regina has recently moved back to Boaz after forty years in Chicago working at the Tribune.  She is now editor of the Sand Mountain Reporter, a local newspaper.

Walt and Regina’s relationship transforms into a once in life love at the same time they are being immersed in a growing local and national divide between Democrats and traditional Republicans, and extremist Republicans (known as Kanites) who are becoming more dogmatic about the revolution that began during President Kanes campaign.

Walt accepts two part-time jobs.  One as a stenography instructor at Snead State Community College in Boaz, and one as an itinerant stenographer with Rains & Associates out of Birmingham.

Walt later learns the owner of Rains & Associates  is also one of five men who created the Constitution Foundation and is involved in a sinister plot to destroy President Kane, but is using an unorthodox method to achieve its objective.  The Foundation is doing everything it can to prevent President Kane from being reelected in 2020, and is scheming to initiate a civil war that will hopefully restore allegiance to the U.S. Constitution.

While Walt is writing a book, The Coming Civil War, he is, unwittingly, gathering key information for the Constitution Foundation.

Will Walt discover a connection between the Foundation  and the deaths of three U.S. Congressmen in time to save his relationship with Regina, prevent President Kane from being reelected as the defacto head of a Christian theocracy, and the eruption of a civil war that could destroy the Nation ?

Chapter 5

I left the College and drove to the Sand Mountain Reporter.  I don’t know why for sure.  It may have been the lingering nostalgia that was morphing in a different direction.  I had married Jennifer, but it was Regina who was my first love and the one I had walked away from.  Was my mind playing tricks on me?  Or, was my heart reminding me of what I was blind to see nearly fifty years ago?  I had to find the answer.  Regina would know.  As I pulled into the parking lot I was happy to remember that Regina had invited me to drop by.  We could at least talk shop.  Talking about how we were nearly half a century ago might be a little premature.

It was almost 4:30 p.m. when I asked the receptionist if Regina was available.  I told her my name and she disappeared.  Just as I sat down and picked up the latest edition of the Reporter from a table in the corner, the receptionist reappeared and instructed me to follow her.  Behind a desk in an office that dwarfed the size and intimidated the furnishings of Dean Naylor’s office, sat the gorgeous Regina.  I shook my head to push back the past as she motioned for me to sit with her at a round table in the corner.

“I’m so glad you dropped by.  What’s up Mr. Walt?”

“Nothing much.  I’ve been by to see Dean Naylor and confirm the details on the class I’ll be teaching.”

“You’re taking Stella Gillman’s position, aren’t you?  I heard she accepted a position at Wake Forest?”

“A great promotion for her but also the opportunity to be near her aging parents in Winston-Salem.  I’m happy for her.”  I said glancing at Regina’s straight, short-cropped brown hair.  Brown sounded so bland. 

There should be one word to describe silky, brilliantly bright, and sexy. “Talking about opportunity.  Snead State is rather fortunate to have a world-renowned stenographer like you.  One with a radical reputation at that.”

“I’m just me, plain and simple Walt.”

“Oh, give me a break.  You’ve always undersold and underestimated yourself.  Of course, I do admit you are rather lame in some respects.”  Regina said sitting back and crossing her legs.

“What department are you referring to?”  I said feeling a little sweat breaking out on my forehead.

“Women, your ability to choose women, is grossly inadequate.”

“Funny, funny.”

The receptionist announced over an open intercom she was leaving.  Regina rushed out and when she returned she said, “I was overwhelmingly the best choice for you when you were a teenager and look what you did.”

“I have recently thought about that.  You may be right.”

“Right?  You know I’m right.  But, that was a lifetime ago.  Hey, I owe you an apology.  I don’t have a clue how I got us started on that little conversation.”

“No apology needed.  In fact, let’s continue the conversation over dinner, tonight, my place.”

“I’d love to Walt, but I have a Board meeting tonight.  Rain check?”

“Absolutely.”

“In fact, I need about an hour to prepare then I have to run a couple of errands.  I hate to push you out but duty calls.”  Regina said coming towards me reaching out her right hand offering a friendly handshake.

“Thanks for seeing me without any notice.”  I said, standing and taking her hand.  Her grasp lingered a few seconds more than normal.  It seemed 45 years of adult scales fell off our eyes and we were back in the barn loft the night before our high school graduation.  It was there, a place we had met late at night for nearly two years, I told her Jennifer was wanting a full commitment.  Now, standing here, what I had done those many years ago, seemed the most stupid thing a man could ever do. 

“Oh, I knew there was something I wanted to ask you.  I was in Guntersville this morning at the Courthouse.  After the Draper sentencing hearing was over, I lingered while the courtroom emptied, hoping to get an interview with the District Attorney.  The court reporter, Ginger, something like that, and I, got to talking as she was packing up her steno stuff.  She was frantic to leave saying she had to drive to Huntsville for a deposition.  Long story short.  She works for Rains & Associates, a big court-reporting agency based in Birmingham.  Ginger said they were very short-handed, so much she was driving herself mad as she drove all over North Alabama trying to meet demands.  Anyway, I thought of you, thought you might like another part time job.  Something to keep the restless Walt out of the bars and honky tonks.

“Again, funny.  Thanks for the tip.  I’ll give it some thought.  Now, you go do what you need to do.  I’ll call you later to remind you of the rain check you owe me.” I said glancing over at Regina who by now was back at her desk ruffling through a stack of files and papers.

“Later gator.”  She said without looking up.

I dropped by Pizza Hut for a large Supreme and drove home feeling more nostalgic than ever.

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 Stenographer, written in 2018, is my fourth novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.

Book Blurb

Walt Shepherd, a 35 year veteran of the White House’s stenographic team, is fired by President Andrew Kane for refusing to lie.

Walt returns to his hometown of Boaz, Alabama and renews his relationship with Regina Gillan, his high school sweetheart, who he had ditched right before graduation to marry the daughter of a prominent local businessman.  Regina has recently moved back to Boaz after forty years in Chicago working at the Tribune.  She is now editor of the Sand Mountain Reporter, a local newspaper.

Walt and Regina’s relationship transforms into a once in life love at the same time they are being immersed in a growing local and national divide between Democrats and traditional Republicans, and extremist Republicans (known as Kanites) who are becoming more dogmatic about the revolution that began during President Kanes campaign.

Walt accepts two part-time jobs.  One as a stenography instructor at Snead State Community College in Boaz, and one as an itinerant stenographer with Rains & Associates out of Birmingham.

Walt later learns the owner of Rains & Associates  is also one of five men who created the Constitution Foundation and is involved in a sinister plot to destroy President Kane, but is using an unorthodox method to achieve its objective.  The Foundation is doing everything it can to prevent President Kane from being reelected in 2020, and is scheming to initiate a civil war that will hopefully restore allegiance to the U.S. Constitution.

While Walt is writing a book, The Coming Civil War, he is, unwittingly, gathering key information for the Constitution Foundation.

Will Walt discover a connection between the Foundation  and the deaths of three U.S. Congressmen in time to save his relationship with Regina, prevent President Kane from being reelected as the defacto head of a Christian theocracy, and the eruption of a civil war that could destroy the Nation ?

Chapter 4

My meeting with Dean Naylor was cut short by a ‘human issue’ as he called it.  Seems like an assistant coach and the new head basketball coach hired during the Christmas holidays were having difficulty expressing brotherly love.  During the twenty minutes we had before Naylor was called to the gymnasium, we discussed the second semester stenographic course I was to teach on Monday and Thursday evenings from 6:00 to 9:00 p.m., including lab time.  From his bragging about Snead State winning last year’s Tri-State Regional Stenographic Tournament, I could tell he had high expectations.  He also was supportive of my decision to stand up against the President.  As Naylor was rushing out of his office he said, “Thanks for being a man of principle when you chose truth over job security.  Let’s have lunch one day soon and I’ll introduce you to a couple of other supporters.”  With that, he was gone leaving me sitting in his office. 

For five minutes or so I continued to sit and reminisce.  After graduating from Boaz High School in 1972, I couldn’t make my mind up about what profession I wanted to pursue.  So, I spent the next year here, what was then called Snead State Junior College, taking general curriculum courses.  The Dean’s secretary came in and said she had to run an errand and needed to lock-up his office.  I walked out and instead of descending the nearby stairs to the first floor I walked down the long hallway towards the classroom Jennifer and I had taken a Speech class together.  The room was the old auditorium.  I sat down in a seat closest to the area I remembered sitting every day during that semester.  I imagined Jennifer right beside me, her blowing that crazy, unruly black curl out of her right eye.  That was January 1973.  Where in hell had forty-five years gone?  “You got to leave, I’m locking up.”  A short, older man holding a key ring with a hundred keys shouted from the double doors by the hallway.

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 Stenographer, written in 2018, is my fourth novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.

Book Blurb

Walt Shepherd, a 35 year veteran of the White House’s stenographic team, is fired by President Andrew Kane for refusing to lie.

Walt returns to his hometown of Boaz, Alabama and renews his relationship with Regina Gillan, his high school sweetheart, who he had ditched right before graduation to marry the daughter of a prominent local businessman.  Regina has recently moved back to Boaz after forty years in Chicago working at the Tribune.  She is now editor of the Sand Mountain Reporter, a local newspaper.

Walt and Regina’s relationship transforms into a once in life love at the same time they are being immersed in a growing local and national divide between Democrats and traditional Republicans, and extremist Republicans (known as Kanites) who are becoming more dogmatic about the revolution that began during President Kanes campaign.

Walt accepts two part-time jobs.  One as a stenography instructor at Snead State Community College in Boaz, and one as an itinerant stenographer with Rains & Associates out of Birmingham.

Walt later learns the owner of Rains & Associates  is also one of five men who created the Constitution Foundation and is involved in a sinister plot to destroy President Kane, but is using an unorthodox method to achieve its objective.  The Foundation is doing everything it can to prevent President Kane from being reelected in 2020, and is scheming to initiate a civil war that will hopefully restore allegiance to the U.S. Constitution.

While Walt is writing a book, The Coming Civil War, he is, unwittingly, gathering key information for the Constitution Foundation.

Will Walt discover a connection between the Foundation  and the deaths of three U.S. Congressmen in time to save his relationship with Regina, prevent President Kane from being reelected as the defacto head of a Christian theocracy, and the eruption of a civil war that could destroy the Nation ?

Chapter 3

I spent the next three days unpacking.  The moving company had placed all my furniture neatly around the outer walls of the great room, study, and two bedrooms, and stacked the dozens and dozens of boxes inside the master bedroom.  All the boxes, except my White House transcripts.  I moved them to a safe and secure, climate-controlled, unit at Paradise Self Storage in Albertville.  I toiled with this decision, but for now decided it more prudent to spend the extra money to protect the fruits of my 35 years working with five Presidents until I could have the documents scanned.

I had mixed feelings about moving back into my childhood home, what my paternal great-grandfather had dubbed, Shepherd’s Cove.  Mom and Dad had deeded the home-place to DeeDee, my sister, and me in 2007.  Dad died in 2012 and Mom had moved into Brookdale Assisted Living in Albertville three years ago.  She was not doing well.  DeeDee had listed Mom and Dad’s place with a realtor in 2015.  There had been a little activity during the first few months after it was listed, but none for nearly the past two years.  Since I was moving back home anyway and needed a place to live, I decided to buy the 118-year-old thrice-remodeled cabin that Stephen Parker Shepherd had built in 1899, motivated greatly by my DeeDee’s offer to buy her out at a great price. 

This morning, Thursday, would be a change of my recently created routine.  I had to meet with Dean Naylor at Snead State to finalize my adjunct professor duties in the business department.  That meeting wasn’t until 3:30 p.m., which gave me plenty of time to waste here sitting in a padded lounging chair on the back porch, one that likely was the same one I sat in as mother and I talked when I was 15.  I had been here since daylight watching three ducks swim and frolic in the pond along the edge closest to the old barn which was built shortly after the house.

At 6:50 a.m., I heard a car horn.  I really didn’t want any visitors, so I stayed put, lowering the back of my chair into a sleeping position.  If it’s important, the person will find me.  I shut my eyes as though I was asleep. 

“Walt, you can hide from your troubles all day.”  Vann Elkins shouted from the porch steps.  I kept my eyes closed until he walked over and shook me with both hands until I nearly fell out of my chair.

“I wasn’t hiding from my troubles.  I was hiding from you.  Well, I guess that’s about the same thing.”

“Good to see you Walt.  I’ve been seeing activity around here for nearly a week.  I just figured DeeDee had sold the place and my new neighbors were moving in.”  Vann said unfolding another lounge chair.

I raised the back of my chair.  “I hear you’ve retired?”

“Thought it was time to fish, hunt, garden, and gossip anytime I wanted without distraction from 250 high schoolers.”  Vann said fiddling with the settings on his chair.

“I’m glad you stopped by but I’m hungry.  Let’s go grab a bite and we can catch up.  That good for you?” I said finding it difficult to get up out of my low-slung chair.

“Sounds great, I was headed to Grumpy’s Diner when I decided to pull in.”

I rode with Vann in his 90’s model Ford pickup and found one table available.  Three men I didn’t know were just abandoning the table in the far left-hand corner.  I followed Vann and stopped every time he did to greet folks at four other tables.  I felt like a member of the Secret Service.  He didn’t introduce me to anyone and no one even looked my way.  Maybe I’m invisible.  That might not be a bad thing.

After the waitress brought us coffee and took our orders, I asked Vann why he had really retired.  I knew he wasn’t much of an outdoorsman, even though his wife insisted he help her in the garden.  The truth is, he was a bookworm.

“I’ve been teaching American History at Boaz High School since 1978, two years after I graduated from the University.  Time for a change.  I might finally get to writing that book I’ve been dreaming about for a quarter of a century.”  Vann said.

‘University,’ in these parts always referred to the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa.  And, no other college in the world.  Cross-state rivalry Auburn could never earn such a title.  “How will you survive without the interaction with your students?  I’ve always heard and believed that was the key to your longevity.”

“Oh, horse radishes, let’s talk about you for a while.  I see where you really got your ass in a crack with old man Kane.  I have one question.  Did you quit or were you fired?”

“Both.  I quit and got fired.”

“That makes sense.”  Vann said hesitating to go on while the waitress delivered our food.  “Clarify please.”

I realized for the first time since high school why Vann Elkins and I were best friends.  We had always been totally transparent with each other.  There was nothing, and I mean nothing, that we couldn’t ask or divulge to the other.  “Before my meeting with the President I had already decided how I would respond.  If he asked me to lie, then I was out of there.  That’s what happened.  The President let my boss, Zack Quitman, have the honors of telling me to change the transcript or hit the road.”

“You’re my hero man.  The rest of the country’s also.  Well, except for ninety-nine percent of the Wacko’s supporters.”  Vann said.

“You’re right.  Just like Kane said, ‘I could be in the street in downtown Manhattan and shoot somebody and wouldn’t lose a one of my supporters.’  The man is a Presidential disgrace.  But, his day is coming.  I feel it in my bones.” I said noticing my voice rising as I spoke. “Not so loud my friend.  Half of Kane’s’ supporters live here in Boaz.  Since you’ve never been so good at math, that means most every person you will encounter in Boaz, no matter where you are, Walmart, church, here in the diner, are die-hard Kane fans.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.  Surely, it’s not more than 50%. 

Wouldn’t that be what it should be given the general election results?”  I said.

“Kane math doesn’t work that way.  For some unknown reason,

Boaz voted nearly 100% for Kane.  But, that might change.”

“Vann, who’s your new friend?”  The waitress, Gloria, said pressing a large and protruding hip into Vann’s shoulder.

“Some nut job liberal I found on Highway 431 broke down heading to New York City.  No, sorry.  Gloria Brown, this is my best friend since high school, Walt Shepherd.”

“Nice to meet you Walt, can I call you Walt?”  Gloria said walking over and filling my coffee cup.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.  Nice to meet you Gloria.”

“Hot stuff, coffee please.”  A sixtyish looking man sitting with three younger men halfway across the dining room shouted at Gloria. 

And, she was gone.

“What did you mean before Gloria came up?  You said something might change.”  I said.

“Regina Gillan, your old flame, has taken over as Chief Editor at the Sand Mountain Reporter.  You do know she has spent the past hundred years or so with one of the most liberal newspapers in America, the Chicago Tribune?”

“Funny you mention her.  Last Friday I ran into her at Walmart.  She mentioned moving back and her new job.”  I said with my mouth stuffed with the best pancakes I’d eaten since my mother’s when I was a kid.

“I predict things around here are going to get interesting. 

Especially since Belinda, you know, Regina’s twin sister, is married to Frankie Olinger.”

“Oh shit.  When did Belinda lose her mind?  You are talking about the same Frankie Olinger we went to school with?”

“Yep, and we thought he was crazy 45 years ago.  He is bat-shit crazy now.  He’d have to be to be head honcho with the local Kanites.  I forget what they call themselves.  Oh yea, Kane Tribe.”  Vann said.

“I thought I was moving away from a screwed-up city.  Looks like this town may be just as bad, maybe worse.  I got to go.” I said cramming a whole slice of bacon in my mouth.

Gloria brought us two coffees to-go as we were walking to the checkout counter beside the front door.  As we were leaving, I heard behind me, “Vann, remember Sand Mountain Tire needs your business.  I thought you were coming by after our little chat at Walmart a couple of weeks ago.”  It was the older man who had yelled at Gloria for coffee from across the restaurant.

“I’ve been busy.”  Vann responded. “Who’s your friend?” 

“Frankie, don’t you remember Walt Shepherd?  We all went to school together.”  Vann said.

“Oh hell no.  Walt, good to see you.  It’s a shame you didn’t have the balls to support our President.  I read all about it.”

I wanted to kick him in the balls, but I just stood there and looked at him.  Frankie was bigger than ever, a couple of inches taller than my six feet and probably weighed three hundred pounds.  Even with half of it being fat, I didn’t want to wrestle a bear.  I also didn’t want to smell like oil and gas for my meeting with Dean Naylor.  “Nice to see you Frankie.  I don’t think I’ve seen you since you quit school at the end of the eleventh grade.”

Vann gently pushed in between Frankie and me and said, “hurry up you two, there’s people waiting.  Let’s go.”

Vann dropped me off at my mailbox next to the road.  As he started to drive off, he stopped, leaned out his window, and said, “you better stay away from the foxy Regina.  You know she’ll come with a

Frankie bonus.”

I waved him off, checked my mailbox, and walked the long and winding driveway home.