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 25
March 1971
Nearly a month had gone by since the debacle at the Valentine’s dance. I had never been more surprised. Apparently, it was some type of dawning for Olivia. She seemed to change, virtually overnight. In one significant way. Her treatment of me. She enabled us to shed the brother-sister cloak. Don’t get me wrong, we didn’t start dating. Officially. But, we did allow our feelings for each other to creep into our private conversations. She also had joined me once or twice per week on my daily runs. For sure, one thing didn’t change. Olivia, if anything, increased her attempt to convert me to Christ. Something about not having the freedom to be unequally yoked. Talking about change, there was something else that miraculously occurred in my life after my losing fight with John Ericson. My long-dead mother reappeared. In my mind.
Not my real, biological mother, but the woman who was my Biology Teacher. I don’t know how it occurred but some way she had x-ray vision, some uncanny ability to know what was going on in my life. Easily, she could have heard about what happened at the Valentine’s dance. She could have been there as a chaperon, although I hadn’t seen her. The following Monday after the dance and after Biology class ended at 10:45, she asked me, outside the hearing of the other students who were making their way out the door, if I would help her on a project she was working on. She apologized by saying that the only time we could work was during lunch and that it might take a few days. I jumped at the chance. I had been worried all weekend about where I was going to sit in the lunchroom since I could never return to the table from hell.
Apparently, Dr. Ayers knew a lot more about me than I could have imagined. That first day in her room during lunch she had shared that her husband, Travis, and my father had become acquainted. It had happened at a little church, Clear Creek Baptist Church, out in the Aroney Community. It was Brother Gorham’s church, the preacher who had spoken to the students in all four grades on the first day of classes. I knew that Dr. Ayers was an unbeliever. She had made that clear, not so much directly, but through her teaching. She also said that Travis simply enjoyed the fellowship of a group of caring people. The two of them, Dad and Travis, had noticed each other several times and always sat together when Dad visited his favorite pastor. I gathered that Dad had shared a lot about me, and Travis, in turn, had passed this along to his wife.
What was to be a few days helping Dr. Ayers turned into over a month. Every day at 11:45 a.m. I made my way back to her classroom. These were the best lunches ever. I didn’t have to bring a Bologna sandwich or anything else to eat. She always brought leftovers from home and they were delicious, ten times better than the lunchroom’s food.
It had taken me over a week to figure out Dr. Ayer’s project, or at least one aspect of that project. Five years earlier she had lost her one and only daughter, Ellen. Dr. Ayers had shared with me how Ellen had a brain tumor and it had caused her to have a car wreck from which she died. Dr. Ayers had been remarkably strong, but I could tell someway she had a deep inner need to relate, maybe connect, with a young person that reminded her of Ellen. I became that person. I think it had a lot to do with me being from Chicago, just like Dr. Ayers and Travis, and Ellen. I had also learned Ellen had attended the same private school I had during the sixth through eighth grades.
Yesterday, Dr. Ayers had shared with me how Ellen had fallen in love with Ruthie Brown, a young lady who now was in graduate school at the University of Virginia. Ellen and Ruthie, obviously both girls, had known virtually from first sight they were destined to be together. I was intrigued that Dr. Ayers had used the ‘once in life love’ phrase that I privately used to describe my relationship with Olivia. After yesterday’s talk, I had a whole new perspective on love and how, devoid of religious dictates, prejudices, and bigotry, real love is grander, more beautiful, than what is normally permitted in the deep South. Dr. Ayers shared how on two occasions Ellen and Ruthie had spent a long weekend, during the Fall, in Mentone, Alabama. It seemed Ellen had been very open with her mother and had shared her innermost feelings for Ruthie.
Today, Dr. Ayers and I had talked about one of the biggest misconceptions in the Christian world. It concerned the source of our morals. To believers, especially Southern Baptist fundamentalists, God and the Bible is the source for man’s morals. God is the only one who is truly good. He has shared his moral values with man and woman, the ones He created in His own image. Without God, man cannot be good. Or, this is what my friends at First Baptist Church of Christ in Boaz, along with their many counterparts around the Nation believed. Dr. Ayers, according to my worldview and ability to reason, made a lot more sense. She said our morals are a result of Darwinian natural selection. They have been evolving for millions of years. She said we don’t need the Bible to be good. In fact, she said that in truth, Christians don’t get their morals from the Bible. “The Bible promotes slavery, and stoning for multiple offenses, including adultery and for a girl not being a virgin on her wedding night. I don’t think that’s what any Christian truly believes.” Dr. Ayers shared how scientific studies were showing how our morals, the ability to choose between right and wrong, were virtually universal. Studies of people throughout the world, including men and women living in tribes where religion had never infiltrated, made similar choices. She said when various scenarios, what she referred to as ‘trolley car’ questions, were presented, the answers were almost identical. If a trolley car is rolling down the track out of control, headed to a place where five people are standing who will certainly be killed, is it morally acceptable for a switchman to divert the car to a side track where only one person will be killed? The answers, universally are yes. Dr. Ayers shared several versions of the trolley car story, many with changes that called for a negative answer. The bottom line, to me at least, is that man doesn’t need God to be good.
As I gathered up my things after our lunch and our discussion, I couldn’t help but recognize how close I was feeling to Dr. Ayers. It brought back memories of my dearly departed mother who, unlike Dad when I was in the sixth grade, took every possible opportunity to spend time with me. If she were alive today, I had no doubt that we would be having daily conversations about many things, excluding virtually nothing. Of course, I couldn’t help but wonder what affect her Catholicism would have had upon me. I didn’t know for sure, but speculated that it would just be an interesting conversation. I would continue to realize there was simply a wholesale lack of evidence to believe in God.
Olivia had called me last night to see if she could join me on my afternoon jog today. I had no hesitation in agreeing. Brilliant me. March, just a few days away from the official beginning of Spring, seemed to be a time when Olivia wasn’t quite as busy. There was no football or basketball games to attend. Although the baseball team was on the verge of kicking off its season, I was grateful cheerleaders hadn’t infiltrated this sport.
I arrived at Olivia’s at 3:30 p.m. Since late November, when the weather had started turning cold, I had driven my Corvair to school. Today, as usual, I had gone home to change clothes, eat an orange, and see Dad for just a few minutes, before my daily run. For months, it had become routine. It seemed he was always at home after my school day. I think he felt guilty about how much he had missed by semi-forcing Mother to manage me and my time all the way from Kindergarten until she was diagnosed during the middle of my sixth-grade year.
Dad first asked me about my day, about my classes, and since a few weeks ago, how things were going between Olivia and me. Finally, right as I was trying to get out of the house and onto the pavement with my run, he would request an update on what was going on with the youth group and what I was learning. Today, I didn’t have anything to offer but did ask him what Mother would say to the question, ‘do we as humans get our morality from God?’ He rambled for a minute or so. Finally, I told him to hold his response for later, that I had to run. Literally.
Olivia and I jogged through downtown Boaz and south on Highway 205 towards the golf course. For nearly a mile she didn’t say anything. This was unusual for Olivia. As we approached Pleasant Hill Road on our right she said, “let’s turn here. We’ve never made the 179 loop.” After she described Highway 179 and where our feet would take us, she said, “Matt, I’m growing more and more depressed anticipating your leaving. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”
I almost cried, something I rarely did. Her words were said with such sadness. I was moved beyond description. Olivia was going to miss me. As I was her. “The good thing is it’s nearly three months away, but the bad news is, it’s nearly three months away. I try not to think about it. It’s so unfair.” I said speeding up enough to match Olivia’s pace.
“Do you ever think about running away? Just me and you?”
“Not really. But, I have thought a lot about staying here, continuing to live in Boaz. I’ve even talked to Dad about it. That conversation isn’t working out too well. Yet.” It made me nearly sick to talk about this subject, but I knew, sooner or later, Olivia and I would have to deal with it.
“Matt, I can’t say too much but my home life is not what you think it is. On the surface it probably looks idyllic. You just don’t know. Inside the walls of our house things are not so good. My father and brother are very unpleasant characters.”
“I’m sorry Olivia. You seem so free and happy. If I didn’t know differently, I’d think you are this way because of your Christianity.” I said.
“Don’t go there. If it weren’t for Jesus I couldn’t survive. Matt, when is it okay to say I love you? How do two people know this and have the courage to say it?” Olivia was a mess today no doubt. She had never talked like this.
“I’m no expert on love and relationships, but I believe it’s okay to use those words, to say those words and mean them, when you get to the point that you know your world could never be the same without that other person. You cannot stop thinking about them. Probably, a lot of people tie that phrase to sex. Sorry to bring that up but you asked your question.”
“It’s okay. I feel comfortable talking about most everything with you Matt.”
For the next couple of miles our conversation ended. We were battling a steady uphill climb that was working hard on our lungs.
At the intersection of Pleasant Hill Road and Highway 179, we stopped a minute and caught our breath. “Olivia, I didn’t mean to imply that if there is no sex then there can be no love. I hope you don’t think that I think that. To be completely truthful with you, I’d love you if we never had sex. Of course, that’s for marriage and I didn’t mean that I was wanting us to have sex now, anytime, you know?” I was becoming a blabbering fool. My words made no sense. Olivia would now know, or think, I was interested in her because of her sexy body, just to hopefully fool around.
“Matt, you can be so funny. That’s one thing I love about you. Gosh, I said it and didn’t know that was coming. You are such a gentleman. You try so hard to always be respectful. You are so different than John and Wade and about every other boy I know.”
“Thanks for associating me with John Ericson. I would hope you know by now that I care about you Olivia, the real you. Of course, you are beautiful and gorgeous. Did I say beautiful?”
“You did. Go on, continue. You were just getting started.” Olivia said reaching for my hand and pulling me into her body, my sweat and hers merging like I envisioned our lives would someday.
“Your outward beauty drives me crazy most of the time but it’s your heart that keeps me sane. It’s a very trite statement. But, you are real, genuine. You aren’t an actor. You never try to deceive. At least I hope I’m not standing here, holding you, all while I have been deceived.” I said, holding my head back and considering Olivia’s eyes. Me melting once again.
“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself Mr. Matt, although you could use a few more curves along your biceps. Ha, just kidding.”
Olivia laid her head on my shoulder, holding both my hands with hers. “I want you forever as my boyfriend. I need your heart always. I can wait on your body, but I cannot wait to hear your heart as it walks alongside me. I love you Matt Benson.”
Two pickup trucks pulled off Highway 179 into the little graveled area where Pleasant Hill Road ended. There were two old codgers, friends it seemed, just settling window to window beside each other to talk. Their timing interrupted the most intimate talk Olivia and I had ever had. “I love you too.” I said to Olivia as I pulled her left hand and directed us northward.
The two plus miles back to Boaz, along Highway 179 and then right and onward on Highway 168, were filled with wordless chatter. It was all about love, our love for each other. Her look, her smile, told me endlessly that we had crossed into new territory. What had been coming forth, like new shoots of corn breaking through fertile soil in the spring, what had not been verbally expressed, was now out in the open. Olivia Tillman and I were officially girlfriend and boyfriend.
I hoped it was for always and forever.
The Pencil Driven Life 