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 34
January 4, 2018
While Olivia and I had been in Mentone for two days, Tiffany had arranged to have some discarded furniture from younger son Devan’s room moved to my virtually empty little pad on College Avenue. It seems Tiffany had run into Brandi Ridgeway at Boaz Furniture sometime last week while shopping. Brandi was there exploring the idea of furnishing one of her two rental houses and offering them to visiting professors at Snead College and others who might be in town on a short-term basis. I was glad to have, even though just for a few more days, an actual bed to sleep on and a comfortable couch for napping. Olivia was also pleased since she suggested we change our plans for their post New Year’s Day party. The party would be Thursday night at Warren and Tiffany’s, more particularly, in the basement man-cave.
Olivia and I had agreed during our last trip to Mentone that we would spend the day in Warren’s basement with Olivia’s family. I hadn’t liked the idea even though a few hours watching football on Warren’s giant TV would be enjoyable. As things often do, our plans changed. It was Olivia’s idea.
I didn’t resist. It would give a much better opportunity to see if I could tease out a few old and deeply hidden secrets from the woman I unconditionally loved. Now, a day alone, a day alone with Olivia to see if she would open the dark corner of her mind where she had locked away the most horrible memories of her life. But, that would have to wait a few hours. I had something I had to do before Olivia arrived at 11:00 a.m.
Betty Tillman had, just last week, moved from Branchwater in Boaz to Brookdale in Albertville, both were relatively new assisted living facilities. Betty had lived at Branchwater for several months, ever since the beginning of Walter’s legal troubles. She had moved to Albertville to be neighbors with her best friend, Reba Ericson.
I arrived at 8:45 a.m. and found Betty and Reba in the cafeteria. They were just finishing up breakfast and offered to buy mine. I declined and said I had an important question for Betty and was hoping we could discuss it in private. “I bet it’s about my darling daughter. That’s always been your main interest.”
I wheeled her to her room, followed by a nurse’s assistance with Reba in a similar chair. We said goodbye to her at Betty’s door. When we were settled inside in the privacy of her room, without prompting at all Betty said, “horrible, simply horrible, what Randy Miller did to Olivia.”
“How did you know that was what I wanted to talk about?” I said, as shocked as I could recall.
“You should know Reba and I talk about everything. She shared with me about your recent visit.”
“Betty, I really need to ask you a few difficult questions. May I have your permission to do so?”
“Ask me anything. I’m tired of secrets. A woman not far from ninety years old shouldn’t have to watch her words.”
“Did you know that Walter raped Olivia?” I thought there was no use in dancing around the issues. I doubted Betty had a clue what she had agreed to.
“Oh Matt, you have your story wrong. That would have been horrible. As though it wasn’t horrible enough what Brother Randy did. Things that got him killed.”
I was certain I now had the truth but was confused over Betty’s apparent confusion. “What do you mean?” I said, feeling I was about to be hit with something I had never considered.
“Here’s the deal. I think you will admit that I pulled a few strings for you back when you lived in Boaz as a teenager. Even lied for you a few times to give you and Olivia a little time together. Now, will you do something for me?” Betty could have asked me for virtually anything and I would have agreed. Her memory was spot on.
“I will do my best. What are you asking me to do?”
“Keep a secret. A big one.”
“I promise.” What was I to say?
“Reba helped me. It was the late eighties. I had just learned that it was Brother Randy’s baby that Olivia had when she was a teenager. Walter had always told me he didn’t know. There had been a rumor around town about Randy and Olivia and I had confronted Walter. He finally confessed. Reba helped me give our dear Brother Randy a little justice.”
I wanted details but didn’t have the stomach. I certainly wondered how Walter had been able to keep his dark secret from his wife for so many years. I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth, that Brother Randy wasn’t the father of Paul Cummins. Her and Reba had done something horrible, something that would, even now, be grounds for criminal charges, possibly prison. I had promised to keep her secret. I would do so.
I finally said, “I knew you would know the truth. Thanks so much for talking with me.”
“I thought you had several questions. Go ahead, ask whatever you want.” Betty said as though there was no limit to what she would divulge.
“That’s all for now. I need to be going. Olivia and I are spending the day together. What about you?” I hoped she didn’t think I might be asking her to join Olivia and me.
“Warren is coming after me late morning. I’m spending the day with his family and my husband. You know things don’t look to good for Walter.”
“I’ve heard. I’m sorry. Have a nice day Betty and thanks so much for talking with me.”
On my drive back to Boaz, Olivia called and said she might be a little late. Eugene Lackey had died late Wednesday night and the funeral was today. What a terrible New Year’s week for that dear family. Olivia wanted to go by and give her condolences during the public viewing time. Eugene was the Boaz High School basketball coach who had valiantly fought cancer. The whole community, led by Warren and First Baptist Church of Christ, had given him and his family unlimited support over the past two years. According to Warren, prayer had given Eugene the remission he had needed. I guess prayer couldn’t give him the healing he, his wife and family, and the entire community had so desperately sought.
Olivia was sad when she arrived at 11:40 a.m. “I feel so sorry for so many people I saw this morning. Certainly, for Eugene’s family. I will never understand how so many people believe that prayer is real.”
“You used to be just like them. Fortunately, you had a breakthrough. You know, that rarely happens to someone who is indoctrinated from birth.” I said, not knowing where this conversation was going. I had other things I deeply needed for Olivia to talk about.
“Looking back, I am amazed at how gullible I was. John 15:7 says ‘If you abide in me and my words abide in you, you shall ask what you will, and it shall be done unto you.’ That’s so clear a Fifth grader could easily explain it. Yet, Christians eagerly stand up for God when confronted with, ‘why didn’t God heal Eugene when you asked Him to?’ They offer any number of arguments for God, ‘God is mysterious, how can we know His plans?’ or ‘I must have not abided in Him.’ Olivia’s words were not filled with bitterness but sadness over the unwillingness of so many of her hometown friends to ask questions seeking the truth.
“I guess, today, all those you saw at the funeral home would say that you have to have faith to truly understand God’s Word, He gives His Holy Spirit as a guide to proper interpretation. Of course, it could be that there is not one single one of the dozens, hundreds I suppose, who prayed for Eugene who were in the right relationship with God to justify Him to answer their prayers for the young man’s healing.” I said, munching on a huge vegetable tray Olivia had brought with her and set on the kitchen counter.
“They are truly gullible, my friends, most of my friends here in Boaz, but they don’t hold a candle to the most gullible person who ever lived. Me.” Olivia’s statement pricked my ears. Where was she going with this?
“What do you mean?”
“Matt, I’ve put it off as long as I can. You won’t agree with me, and you shouldn’t. I’m not really a good liar. I have been gullible in two ways. At least two ways. The first one concerned how I thought you would be better off not knowing the truth about Paul and John, me not telling you that you and I had children. The second was more recent, of me telling you at Cracker Barrel that I got pregnant the night before you left Boaz at the end of your eleventh-grade year.”
“Olivia.” I said walking over to her standing with her back to the kitchen sink. “Stop, please stop. I know a lot more than you think I know. I’m sorry but I’ve been doing a little investigating myself. In a way, I’m ashamed of that. I should have been totally open with you. For some reason, one I’ll probably never know, I had to determine for myself if I was the father of John and Paul Cummins. My dear Olivia, I think you know the answer to that question is no.”
Olivia pulled me into her and laid her head on my shoulder. We didn’t say a word for minutes. I could hear her sobbing. I could feel her tears wetting my shirt. “Matt, please believe me. I was about to tell you the full truth when I stated the two times I had been most gullible.”
“Let’s go sit in on the sofa and talk. Why don’t you just tell me the full truth. But, before you do, let me say, it’s not going to matter. Olivia, I fell for you the first time I saw you. That instant anchored my heart forever. Your telling me the truth, now, shouldn’t present any hesitation or fear to your mind. Okay?” I said, leading her by hand to the den.
“It started at the beginning of my ninth-grade year. He said that it was God’s will and I believed him. It didn’t happen every day or every week, sometimes a month or more would go by and he wouldn’t come into my bedroom. I was such a fool to not seek help, to not tell a single soul, even though I came close to confiding in Brother Randy. I know I could have talked to him about anything. He would have taken care of me. Even after the Valentine’s dance, when I knew you cared so much for me, I could have confided in you. I was such a fool, such a gullible fool. Here is the most stupid way to put it, “I didn’t know that I could, I didn’t know I could tell someone. I truly, fully believed it was God’s will. How was I to question that?”
“Honey, you were a victim. Your father should be taken out and shot.” I said as angry as I have ever been. Before this conversation, I had known the truth but now it was triply hard coming straight from Olivia’s mouth.
“Father? Oh Matt, I guess I haven’t been clear. I didn’t become pregnant by my father, it was Wade.”
I probably should have fainted. Instead, I stood and walked over to the kitchen doorway, looking away from Olivia still seated on the couch. Then, it hit me like a ton of bricks. There was no better way to say it, cliché and all. I had been such a dumb ass, and I held a Ph.D. in evolutionary biology and had spent the past thirty plus years teaching and researching genetics. I understood, not to Jerry Coyne’s degree, genetics as good as most anyone. When Jerry had told me that Walter’s sample matched Olivia’s and Paul’s I had not considered what no doubt would have been a first-year graduate student’s first question, ‘what about Wade?’ His DNA sample would have produced the same result as Walter’s. Of course, I hadn’t secured and submitted a sample from him. I never considered it; he was in jail anyway.
I was glad Olivia had remained silent while she remained seated. During my extended contemplation, my emotions alternated between relief and anger. I was relieved to know the truth, but more so, I was angry. I had never had such a thought. If Wade had been in the room I’m sure I would have tried my best to tear out his heart. Finally, I spoke. “I’m sorry that I’ve been a poor investigator. I had concluded Paul Cummin’s father had to be Walter Tillman.”
“In a way, Dad was as guilty as Wade. It was Dad who beguiled me into keeping quiet, even believing it was God’s will. He, Walter, orchestrated the elaborate plan, scheme is a better word. Some would say that it was a gift from God that John Ericson got Jessie Dawson pregnant about the same time. Dad and Franklin Ericson conspired to get rid of the two babies and bury a secret that would likely have destroyed them all, including Wade.”
I had been wrong. Olivia’s news did matter to me, not that it affected my love for her, but it struck me differently than how the news of Walter had. I, some way, could wrap my head around Walter and his power over Olivia, sexually abusing her, getting her pregnant. He was, like allegedly Roy Moore was, a dirty old man. But Wade? How had he persuaded Olivia? How had he kept her quiet? I had to fight off thoughts and feelings that subtly included Olivia as a partially guilty party. One thing I didn’t question was how Wade had gone on to become a pastor as though nothing of the sort had ever happened. Christians were masters of compartmentalization.
Olivia and I explored every detail imaginable about her horrible experience. At 4:00 p.m., we took a break, returned to the kitchen, and stood and ate a lite supper. Neither of us were very hungry. For food. For each other was a different story. It was like we were needing to help the other wash away the dirt, the filth of what we had been discussing. We migrated to my bedroom and kissed, cried, made love, and started all over again for the next four hours before falling asleep in each other’s arms.
At midnight Olivia woke me, sitting alongside me eating a carrot. “Hey, what’s up doc?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Carrots? I want pancakes.”
“And bacon and sausage and coffee.” She said reaching down and pressing her lips onto mine. “I love you Matt Benson. I want to be with you forever. Can you do me a little favor and spend the rest of your life in my bed, in my heart, head, and soul?”
Sitting up leaning back on my elbows I said, “I’ll tell you after pancakes. A lot depends on the pancakes. Now get dressed and let’s head to the Waffle House.”
The pancakes were extraordinary. I was glad they were, but they didn’t have to be for me to agree to Olivia’s little request. We even made a little progress on putting together our post-Boaz plans. We would go our separate ways tomorrow. Olivia would drive back to Chapel Hill and I would drive back to Chicago. Friday afternoon I would board a plane to Chapel Hill for a weekend with Olivia. The following weekend she would come to me. By February 1st we would easily decide which one was moving to the other. Simple. For a couple who had been given a second chance on their once in life love, it would be a piece of cake.
The Pencil Driven Life 