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 Schoolteacher, written in 2018, is my fifth novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.
Book Blurb
In the summer of 2017, Katie Sims and her daughter Cullie, moved from New York City to Katie’s hometown of Boaz, Alabama for her to teach English and for Cullie to attend Boaz High School . Fifteen years earlier, during the Christmas holidays, five men from prominent local families sexually assaulted Katie. Nine months later, Katie’s only daughter was born.
Almost from the beginning of the new school year, as Katie and fellow-teacher Cindy Barker shared English, Literature, and Creative Writing duties for more than 300 students, they became lifelong friends.
For weeks, Katie and Cindy endured the almost constant sexual harassment at the hands of the assistant principal. In mid-October, after Cindy suffered an attack similar to Katie’s from fifteen years earlier, the two teachers designed a unique method to teach the six predators a lesson they would never forget. Katie and Cindy dubbed their plan, Six Red Apples.
Read this mystery-thriller to experience the dilemma the two teachers created for themselves, and to learn the true meaning of real justice. And, eternal friendship.
Chapter 9
Yesterday afternoon after Cullie and I arrived home from school, we sat with Nanny and Sammie in the den. I was contemplating exactly how to break the horrible news to my 89-year-old grandmother when Sammie said, “she already knows. That damn police scanner that I thought I had hidden from her. She must have dug it out while Verna was here. Early afternoon Nanny had said, ‘no need to go get Darla, she’s dead.’ The scanner was tucked under a blanket beside her chair. She must’ve had the volume turned down when I wasn’t doing chores.”
In a way this had not surprised or alarmed me. Two weeks ago, when I had tagged along with Sammie and Nanny to see her doctor, he had said that at times she would seem normal, but this would become less and less frequent. Usually, she would be a mix of bizarre and mundane. If Nanny’s conduct last night was normal she sure didn’t seem to possess much love and sympathy for Darla, her only daughter. If her conduct was bizarre her statement to Sammie about no need to go get Darla fit the bill. The only thing that seemed like the mix the doctor mentioned was Nanny’s statement, “turn on The Walton’s, I want to see if Ike Godsey kills Mary Ellen, my darling Darla.” Mundanely bizarre indeed.
After the four of us ate Sammie’s delicious chicken salad on TV trays in the den I excused myself and went to my room. Cullie disappeared to the front porch to listen to her iPod and text Alysa. Ryan Radford’s wife Karla answered on the second ring. I was a little surprised their home phone number was listed in the phone book. He didn’t seem to be the type who would give his customers at Radford Hardware and Building Supply easy access to him, especially after business hours. I had told Karla who I was and asked to speak to Ryan. I could hear him in the background. The two of them talking. I thought I heard him say, “tell her I’m busy.” After a minute or more, he said, “hello, this is Ryan.”
“Ryan, this is Katie Sims, Darla’s daughter.”
“Katie, I know who you are. I’m sorry about your mother. I just got back from telling granddad the horrible news. I’m hoping the District Attorney will finally grant him a bond, at least to come to the funeral.”
Raymond Radford was one of five local men who were facing criminal charges. Everything from sex trafficking to murder. The news had shocked the community since these were the deep-rooted leaders that seemed to control every aspect of religious and business life around Boaz. I couldn’t help but recall the other time Raymond Radford had shocked local folks. In 1973, he had ditched Cynthia, his wife of twenty years, and token-up with Darla, my mother. She was still a teenager, the same age as Randall, Raymond’s son. I suspected that in many places these type events would have ruined a man like Raymond, but not in Boaz. It was like he, along with the other four fathers of the Flaming Five, and their sons, was immune to citizen criticism. We’d have to see how the criminal justice system dealt with Raymond and his four peers.
“I need inside the house, to see if Darla left anything that would indicate how sick she was. Can you let me in?” I didn’t figure Ryan would agree but I had to ask. At first, before I had called, I thought about going straight over and trying to break in. A criminal charge was the last thing I needed. As I sat and waited for Ryan to respond I was torn whether to go to the sprawling mansion at the end of Lindo Drive in the Country Club subdivision. I hadn’t been except for one time, and then only inside the front foyer. For some reason, Darla hadn’t wanted me to see how comfortable a life she had. I guess she had known how it would make me feel, especially given how she had rejected me and chosen Raymond and his riches over her duty as a mother.
“I will meet you there in twenty minutes. I have to be somewhere at 8:30.”
I had arrived at 7:20 and was relieved that Ryan let me in the front door and left. He said he would be back in thirty minutes. I spent ten minutes touring the entire house, in awe over the expensive antiques and art work. I wasn’t an expert but several of the paintings on the wall appeared to be original. The master bedroom was on the first floor beyond a short hallway and a large study. I first searched the bathroom for pill bottles hoping to discover the medications Darla was taking.
The only prescription bottle I found was a drug called Clonidine. This didn’t tell me anything, but I found a document, Your Personal Prescription Information, on an oak washstand beside the double vanity in the giant bathroom. Scanning the document, I learned Clonidine ‘allows your blood vessels to relax and your heart to beat more slowly and easily’ and ‘clonidine is used to treat hypertension (high blood pressure).’ Here, I stopped reading knowing I didn’t have unlimited time to linger. The only other drugs in the medicine cabinet were bottles of Aleve, Tylenol, and Aspirin.
I walked out of the bathroom and towards a sliding glass door that opened to a private balcony even though this was the first floor. On a little wicker table in the corner I found a brochure that was titled Syncope. A quick peek inside told me this was a condition that caused a temporary loss of consciousness. I concluded that was why Darla had been prescribed the Clonidine.
When I walked back inside I noticed a pull-type suitcase in the corner behind a lounging chair. On the end table beside the chair were two TV Guides, a novel by Andrea Preston, and a stack of newspapers, the top one being the New York Times. I had not known Darla was much of a reader.
It was now almost 7:45 and Ryan would likely return within a few minutes. I’m not sure what prompted me to do it, but I rolled the large suitcase outside and hid it in the trunk of my car. I didn’t want Ryan to know I had taken anything. He arrived less than a minute later. I was standing on the front porch reading more about Clonidine.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” He said as he was locking the deadbolt on the front door.
“I did. Looks like Darla suffered from a condition that caused her to pass out. I found this bottle. I’m guessing she got disoriented and wandered over to Ralph Williams’ pond. Probably then she passed out and never regained consciousness.” I held up the pill bottle for Ryan to see what I had taken.
“I have to go. Let me know if you need anything else. Oh, I hate that I have not said this before. I’m sorry for your loss. Darla was a sweet lady and was always good to me. By the way, don’t worry, I’ll make sure all her funeral costs will be taken care of.”
With that, Ryan had driven away leaving me standing at the bottom of the front porch stairs. His final statement made me ponder Darla’s will and what type of financial relationship she and Raymond had. Surely, he would have loved her enough to make sure she was taken care of if he had predeceased Darla. But, that hadn’t happened.
As I had driven home my stomach had grown more and more nauseous. What would happen to Nanny? Would Sammie’s caregiver costs continue to be paid? My mind had changed when I turned in Nanny’s long driveway and saw Cullie still sitting on the front porch. No matter what, my primary goal in life wouldn’t change. I would do whatever it took to take care of my precious daughter. Although I would do everything I could for Nanny, she would never displace the time and attention I would give the child whose presence continually showed me that good can come from evil.
At 10:30, Cullie and I had gone inside after having spent the prior two-plus hours talking, really talking. It was the best mother-daughter conversation we had had since moving back to Boaz. I went to bed early, wanting my dreams to center around Cullie’s openness to share her concerns and the roller-coaster that most every ninth-grade girl finds herself buckled to. I forgot all about the suitcase stuffed inside the trunk of my car.
The Pencil Driven Life 