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 17
It was only the first day of March, but it felt like mid-summer. Eighty-four degrees at 11:30 a.m., when it was supposed to be, at most, slightly above freezing, pointed my mind towards the issue of climate change. Now, however, wasn’t the time to mind-muddle that earthrocking question.
I had been surprised last night when Ginger Crumbley called. Not only because she called, but because she called so late. I didn’t lie to her when I told her that I had planned on calling her today. After I answered, she introduced herself but spent a minute or so elevating the extraordinary Regina to Queen status. I verbally nodded toward every compliment. When she tired of that she told her mooch, Bailey I think she called him, that she would walk him in five minutes if he would go fetch his collar. I think Ginger was testing me, seeing if I could listen. I was glad she didn’t demand a transcript. Finally, she let me agree to come today at 1:00 for an interview, saying, “this is just a formality. You have the job if you want it. I’ve checked you out. Pretty good credentials.” A little snickering on her part and she was out the door with Bailey.
As I turned off Highway 431 onto 77, I tried to remember when the last time I was in Birmingham. Surely, I had been since Jennifer and I attended the Auburn vs. Alabama football game at Legion Field two days after Thanksgiving in 1971. I still remember the score: Auburn 7, Alabama 31. Jennifer’s father, a big donor with the Alabama Crimson Tide, had given the tickets to us as another incentive for me to marry her. Of course, that’s not exactly how it was presented, but now, nearly a half a century later, that’s clearly what it was. Back then, I didn’t care what Franklin Ericson’s motivations were. I wanted to see Pat Sullivan and Freddie Beasley rip the Tide’s defense to shreds. I knew in my heart this was going to happen. I was wrong in the worst way. Sullivan didn’t throw a single touchdown pass. As super wonderful as he was, I believe Auburn’s only score was a halfback pass from Harry Unger to Dick
Schmalz. Forget Auburn. I was now self-classified as an avid fan of Nick Saban and the Tide, even though I had never, as a fan, attended a game.
I continued to look-back over the past half-century. My failed marriage to Jennifer, including our inability to have children. My love for and desire to teach. How fate or something had so arranged the stars that led me to a 35-year career at the White House. How I deplored President Andrew Kane. I almost got nauseous even using the words President and Kane in the same sentence.
I arrived at 12:25 p.m. within a stone’s throw of Harbert Plaza, The Regions-Harbert Plaza sign said, but it took me nearly fifteen minutes to find a suitable parking spot. I finally found one in Deck 3 on North 20th. I nearly jogged back to the Plaza and was sweating by the time I stepped onto the elevator. The 28th floor was home to some big names: the law firm of Maynard Cooper & Gale; the accounting firm Ernst & Young, and insurance company Northwestern Mutual. It was also the home base for Rains & Associates Court-Reporting.
Ginger was waiting on me in the small waiting room. “I just returned from lunch. I’m Ginger.”
“I’m Walt. How’s Bailey?” I’ve never been very good at chitchat.
I followed her back to a corner office where a tall and slender man was standing looking out at the Birmingham skyline.
“Walt, this is Zel Peterson. He’s my boss. He happened to be in town and wanted to meet you.”
“Hello.” I said as we both walked towards each other and shook hands. “I’m Walt Shepherd.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you Walt. Ginger has briefed me on your background. I sure hope you will come on board with us here at Rains. We are getting a little desperate and will take about anybody with a steno degree. Just kidding.” Zel said pulling out a chair and motioning for me to sit.
Ginger continued to stand across from the large oak conference room table I suspected was a true antique. She too was tall, probably six feet in the spike heels I had noted walking behind her. I had also noticed a robust rear that reminded me of Regina’s, but I needed to focus. Ginger, a curly red-head, was a looker. “Walt, could I get you something to drink, coffee, a coke, water?”
“Water would be nice. This heat and the walk over from Deck
3 has me perspiring a little.”
“Walt, may I call you Walt?” Zel said.
“Of course.”
“I’m going to leave you and Ginger when she returns. Before I go, may I ask you a question, the type ladies and gentlemen shouldn’t talk about until they’ve known each other for a few decades?” Zel said, now back on his feet and walking towards the floor-to-ceiling windows in the corner.
“I suppose you can ask me anything. I’ll let you know if I don’t want to talk about it.”
“What is your gut feeling about President Kane and what’s on the horizon?”
“You asked. I’ll answer. I deplore the man. There is no doubt in my mind he is the worst President we have ever had, at least in my lifetime. He is not in the same league with anyone else. I could accept the man if he were honest. I could even overlook his crudeness, to a degree. Simply put, I don’t trust the man.” I stopped there hoping Zel wouldn’t press me on his second question.
“Thanks for your honest opinion.” Zel said taking a bottle of water from Ginger as she walked in. “What’s your thoughts on where we, as a Nation, are headed?”
“Funny you ask this. Ever since the first indication that a large enough swath of American citizens was leaning favorably towards him, I have been thinking of writing a book. That desire has ridden the waves of my mind like a roller-coaster. But, after getting canned by the White House and moving back home to Boaz and seeing firsthand how vehemently attached his followers are to him, I’m reinvigorated about my book.” I said uncharacteristic for me. I normally don’t spew out such a long response when asked a question.
“You didn’t say it specifically, but I read your response to mean that you don’t look favorably on the next three to seven years?” Zel asked as Ginger finally pulled out a chair and sat down.
“You’re correct.”
“Okay. Walt. I very much appreciate you answering my questions. It was very nice meeting you. I’ll leave you two alone to get down to business.” Zel said shaking my hand again as I stood up.
After he was gone, Ginger didn’t say anything for an uncomfortable moment or two. She just stared at me. Her eyes looked redder than brown. It might have been the sunshine from the windows.
“I can see why Regina likes you so much. You are polished, nice looking, and have a pleasant but professional voice.” She finally said.
“I’m happy to hear that Regina has conveyed to you that she likes me.”
“You have a sense of humor also. Perfect. Now to business. If you want the job, you have it. The pay is $200.00 per assignment plus twenty-five dollars per hour including travel, double time for work past five p.m. We also pay $1.25 per mile for all your travel from the time you leave your home until you return from a job.”
“I’ve always loved efficiency, right to the point.”
“There’s that humor again.”
“Please tell me what type jobs I would have and my travel zone?” I said, a little encouraged by the pay scale.
“As you might expect, attorneys are our main client. Mostly civil attorneys. You would primarily be working depositions. One day it could be an auto-accident case. The next day a medical malpractice case. Again, depositions. But, this isn’t the only thing. We have the contract with the Alabama Administrative Office of Courts. If a Judge needs a court-reporter, we fill the need. Just yesterday, Judge Kimberly, in Tuscaloosa County, lost his regular court-reporter to a car wreck. She wasn’t killed but she did break a leg and two ribs. She’ll be out for at least six weeks. Tara Sledge, our stenographer, accepted that assignment. This doesn’t happen often, at least to this extent or duration. Normally, if we receive a call from the AAO, it’s just for a reporter to fill in for a day or two, maybe a week.” Ginger said looking through her day planner.
“I’m very interested, but I have to disclose I have another part-time job.”
“Teaching at Snead State Community College. You took Stella
Gillman’s place. I hear she loves Wake Forest.”
“Okay, I’m impressed. You know a lot about me.”
Ginger looked up and smiled at me. “If only you knew the half
of it.”
“I really don’t want my work with Rains to interfere with my night schedule at Snead. I’ve really wanted to get back into teaching and sure don’t want to screw this up.”
“You haven’t taught since 1982 at Prince George’s Community
College in Largo, Maryland.”
“Correct. Do you also know about my personal vices?” I said trying to be funny and serious at the same time.
“No, Regina hasn’t been that personal with me.”
“Damn, I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Seriously Walt, what are you thinking? Can you commit to us?
I promise we will protect your time for your teaching.”
“How much time do I have to give you a decision?” I said.
“Fifteen minutes.” Ginger was not joking. It was her first serious face since I’d arrived.
“I really wasn’t wanting that much time. That makes it much harder. Seriously Ginger, I accept your offer, but with one condition.” I said.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t want to work every day. Maybe a day or two a week. If you are desperate, three days would be my max. I do want to enjoy my retirement a little.”
“I can appreciate that. I agree to your condition.” Ginger said looking back down at her planner. “If you don’t mind, I’ll send in my assistant with the employment forms you need to sign. She’ll also equip you. I’ll call you with your first assignment. It’ll probably be a few days.
Thanks Walt and it was very nice meeting you.”
We both stood, shook hands again, and she was gone.
Rita, the assistant, came in a few minutes later. I completed tax withholding forms and a few other standard forms. I was a little surprised not to be presented with any type confidentiality agreement. I guess that’s just assumed. I followed Rita to a large storage room off her office. She told me to choose my steno machine and my choice of briefcase.
During my drive back to Boaz I didn’t think of the past hardly at all. I was focused on the future. I also dwelt on cooking a nice dinner for Regina.
The Pencil Driven Life 