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 26
Tuesday was the first day Cindy had come to my room during my planning period since before Labor Day. She stayed until the end of my lunch break, a few minutes before noon. It was not vocabulary words, short stories, or sentence and paragraph structures she wanted to talk about. It was her idea of how to set up Patrick Wilkins.
“Ever since Saturday night’s church social all I have thought about is how to balance the scales with that sexual pervert known around here as the Assistant Principal. I can’t stand even saying his name.” Cindy said, sitting her book bag on one of the two chairs across from my desk in my little office.
“What got you so riled up. He wasn’t even there.”
“Oh yes he was. After you left, Steve helped Lane move the tables back to the storage room and arrange the chairs for Jared Insley’s Sunday School class. Kathy, Lane’s wife, and I were standing inside the Fellowship Hall towards the back door talking and waiting on the men to finish when the asshole walked in.”
“You’re beginning to remind me of myself. However, I would say he is horribly worse than that. He is a criminal asshole.” I added.
“I almost attacked him when he said, ‘good evening ladies, where are our lucky men.’ Of all things to say, especially at church. That man apparently thinks of sex all the time.” Cindy said sitting in the chair by her bag covered with giant sunflowers embroidered on both the front and back.
“That’s exactly what he deserves, even worse. But, I’m not sure that’s the smartest way of dealing with him. I want to be as open and direct as I can my dear friend. Don’t make the same mistake I made when the Faking Five raped me. That was nearly fifteen years ago. Now, it’s too late for them to be criminally charged in Alabama since the statute of limitations is only ten years for rape unless DNA evidence can identify a suspect. You are not so constrained. I still believe you should report what happened to you, what the criminal asshole did to you.” Right now, there was nothing I wanted more than for Cindy to report the crime.
“Katie, I know you believe you are looking out for my best interest. I know you care for me and are trying to help but it’s impossible for you to know, really know, how complaining to the police and all that would naturally follow from doing so, how my life as I know it, would be over. You don’t know Steve the way I do. And, you certainly didn’t know him back in his younger years. I’m certain my horrible news would throw him into a tailspin and he would get his revenge. Katie, Steve would literally gut bastard Wilkins, and that would be after he had already cut his balls off. I couldn’t live if Steve went to prison.”
“Aren’t you considering doing the same thing? How would Steve fare if you went to prison?” I had to make Cindy see she was being irrational.
“You’re not seeing the one major difference. Steve would act impulsively, simply go kill Wilkins almost immediately after I told him, or he heard the news. My idea is to plot and plan, like I do with my writing. In that sense, Steve is more like you and your writing. He is a seat-of-the-pants type revenge seeker.”
“In my opinion, either way can lead to the same destination. Your way may be slower but if Wilkins turns up dead there will be an investigation.” I said, losing interest and patience in mine and Cindy’s conversation.
“Who said I want to kill my rapist?” Cindy said as she pulled a standard three-subject, wire-ringed, hole-punched, college-ruled notebook from her book bag. Here, look at this.”
She flipped it open to the first page. On the top half was a rudimentary, penciled drawing. At the bottom I could see a numbered list of items under the heading, ‘Action Steps.’ “I can already see the Prosecutor’s first Exhibit at your murder trial.”
“You keep forgetting, I’m not interested in that. Not right now at least. Phase one is innocuous. It’s simply a prank. I do admit it is an embarrassing prank. For Wilkins that is.”
“I might as well ask you to tell me about your little prank. You’re not going to brainstorm with me how best to present The Snows of Kilimanjaro to my tenth graders unless I do.” If Cindy was one thing, she was determined.
“I call it Operation Screen-Saver. I want to install one on both his school and church computers.” She flipped a page in her notebook and I saw another drawing and another set of ‘Action Steps.’ The operation will be successful if we get only one installed.”
“What streaming words do you have in mind for the world to see as they scroll across a Wilkins computer?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but ‘Women, run, run. I’m a rapist,’ comes to mind as the front-runner phrase.” Cindy said looking at me with a sly grin and a curled lip.
“A second ago, did I hear you say ‘we’?” I was not liking this at all. Cindy had simply assumed I would be a co-conspirator.
“Yes, I can’t do it without you. I assumed from our earlier discussion that we had agreed our project, Six Red Apples, was going to be a team effort. I help you get back at the Faking Five, by the way, I love that label, and you help me destroy asshole Wilkins.” Cindy wasn’t wrong in her interpretation of that conversation.
“I guess I have to admit you are right. I confess I did agree, but I never agreed to commit a crime.”
“This isn’t a crime. Surely.”
The only thing we accomplished from 10:30 until nearly noon was review and banter about both lists of action steps and how they related to geographic locations on Cindy’s rudimentary but impressive drawings. We also devoured our lunches. It seemed taking the first innocent steps towards a life of crime triggered an aggressive appetite.
After school, I dropped Cullie and Alysa off at Kay-La’s Gymnastics & Cheerleading on Mill Avenue. Both girls had recently decided they wanted to go out for cheerleader at the end of the school year. I hated to tell them but, to me, neither one had the physical skills, flexibility, and coordination for such a sport. I kept my mouth shut. Instead, as they exited the car I said, “I’m proud of you two girls. Both of you sure have the brains for learning the routines.”
At 3:30 p.m., I pulled to a stop at the end of Ralph Williams driveway, next to a giant screened-in porch nestled beside an over-sized garage. A tall and thin man with at least a week’s worth of snow-white whiskers walked down the porch steps when I stood outside my car.
“May I help you?”
“Are you Ralph Williams?” I said knowing it had to be him but as far as I knew I had never seen the man. It could have been his father or brother or just a visiting neighbor.
“I am. I hope I’m not in trouble. You look like you are either a social worker or better yet, a prize-giver with Publishing Clearing House.” He said as a short and stocky woman opened the screen-door and stood on the top step. I thought she might be marking her ground, like she was telling me, ‘he’s my man, don’t you get any ideas.’ I almost laughed out loud.
“I’m Katie Sims. We’ve been talking online, and I just wanted to meet you.” I hadn’t planned that at all. Usually, my smart-ass remarks didn’t set well, they often returned like a boomerang. I was surprised to hear Ralph’s response.
“I was hoping today would be the day. You are even more gorgeous than I imagined. The naked pictures you sent do not do you justice.” He said with a big grin alternating looking at me and then at the woman, I assumed his wife, standing, not smiling, now on the second step.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not sure why I did.”
“It’s certainly not every day that a young, nice-looking woman comes by and flirts with my Ralph. You too are a match. He is the best comedian in Boaz.” The bottle brunette said, now smiling and opening the screen-door and motioning me to come inside.
“I guess laughter is good medicine as I’ve heard all my life. Let’s start over. I’m Katie Sims. You found my mother dead in your pasture.”
“Oh dear, I’m so very sorry for your loss and especially for how she died.” I could tell Ralph was a real gentleman, even though the white beard someway didn’t seem to fit. “Please come in. Glenda will fetch us some lemonade.”
“Thank you.” I said and accepted the couple’s invitation to go inside. After he instructed me to sit where I wanted he repeated his condolences concerning Darla. Glenda rejoined us with fresh-squeezed lemonade and was about to sit down when I heard their phone ring. She disappeared once again.
“I’ve been meaning to come see you. I hope you don’t mind me asking you a few questions.” I said, not wanting to linger any longer without gaining some information. I did have two teenage girls to pick up by 4:45.
“Not at all. Ask anything you want. I’ve been expecting you.”
“According to Sheriff Waldrup, that morning you didn’t see anybody here and about the neighborhood before you discovered Darla, my mother’s body. Right?”
“No, that’s not exactly right. The Sheriff’s question was, have you seen anyone or anything out of the ordinary? To that I told him no.”
“So, that doesn’t mean you didn’t see anyone, you might have seen something you considered ordinary? Or, am I confused? I get that way fairly often.” I said, wanting to be careful with the facts.
“Now you’re correct.” Ralph said, scratching his beard.
“I take it you don’t normally have a beard? Sorry, that’s none of my business.”
“You are quite unique. I like your style. The beard. I’m getting a head start for Christmas. I play Santa Claus in a little skit our church puts on every year.”
“Which church?” I asked.
“Pleasant Hill Baptist Church, just up the road.”
“I’m sure you are an excellent actor. I’ve seen you at work.”
“No compliment needed. I just try to be myself and love on the kids.”
“Back to ordinary vs out of the ordinary. Can you tell me everyone, everything, you saw that morning before you found my mother?”
“That’s easy, I saw Danny Ericson driving his gray Chevrolet Silverado. He was going that way.” Ralph pointed toward the south, away from Boaz.
“And, I assume you are saying that wasn’t out of the ordinary?”
“Not at all, at least it was recently ordinary?
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“Come here, let me show you.” He led me off the porch and back outside onto his driveway. We stood beside my car. “See that big pasture across the road?” Ralph pointed, now eastward and straight across the road from his and Glenda’s house.
“Yes.” I saw it and saw an Ericson Real Estate sign beside a gate leading into the pasture.
“Danny was driving slow that morning. He had someone with him. I think it was Dale Joiner. He owns that pasture.”
“I seem to remember that someone, maybe it was Sheriff Waldrup, said something about you wanting to buy that land.” I was beginning to get a little excited. Maybe these two saw something. Oh my gosh, I didn’t look forward to having to talk with Danny Ericson.
“For a while I did. Before Danny listed it for Dale, he dropped by and asked me if I would be interested. I guess he had already talked with Dale and he hadn’t committed to listing with Ericson Real Estate. It was, I suspect, Danny’s way of manipulating a commission out of the sale.
“You decided against it I assume. It looks like it’s still for sale.”
“Right. It’s priced way too rich for my blood.”
“Back to that morning. Let me restate what I’m hearing you say. You said you saw Danny’s truck. Sorry, did you say where you were when you saw him?”
“I don’t think I did. It was early for me and Glenda. Since I retired from Goodyear we don’t get up at 4:00 a.m. anymore. I think it was around 7:15, but it might have been a little later. I was pouring a cup of coffee, standing at that window.” Ralph said pointing to a double window I assumed was from the kitchen.
“Just looking out your kitchen window?” I said.
“Yes. As I said, Danny was driving slowly, almost like he had been stopped, or maybe had turned around. Not going anywhere near the speed limit, thirty-five I think. When I first saw Danny, I couldn’t make out who was with him. Course, I couldn’t make out Danny either, but I knew it was his truck. I could see that god-awful Crimson Tide tag on his front bumper.”
“And, he just drove on by?” I asked.
“He did, but I got a better look when I walked into the living room as they were passing. At first, I thought it was Dale Joiner as Danny’s passenger, sitting by the window closest to our house. I must tell you, now that I’m really thinking about it, I may have lied, unintentionally, to Sheriff Waldrup. I’m thinking now there had been something out of the ordinary that morning. Dale Joiner, if that’s who Danny’s passenger was, looked awfully, oh, what’s the word, part of it sounds like a shovel?”
“Disheveled?” I asked.
“Yes, I think that’s the right word.”
“It means the person is untidy, disordered, speaking of their hair, clothes, or appearance.” I said, having used the word in my early morning writing just a day or two ago.
“Definitely, that’s right. Dale didn’t look like himself. He’s usually neat, well-dressed, and is downright a fanatic about his hair. Hell, sorry. Now, I’m thinking about something else. I don’t ever remember Dale having a beard.”
“Could it be that you aren’t sure it was Dale Joiner?” I asked.
“Now that we’ve had this little discussion, I sure wouldn’t bet on it. It seems my mind just automatically filled in that name, the information that I am now unsure of.”
“Our minds do that. It could have been that when you saw Danny Ericson’s truck and recalled your dealings with him over the pasture across the road, along with Dale Joiner as owner of that land, that your mind offered you a picture of what was going on. Danny was out with Dale Joiner driving by the land he had just listed.” I tried to make sense of what had happened to Ralph, a man who, to me, could be a spitting image of the type of man I envisioned Sheriff Wayne Waldrup to be.
“That makes sense now. Come to think of it, I think it was just the day before that Danny’s real estate sign went up on Dale’s pasture.”
“I’m really thankful you’ve taken the time to talk with me. One other question if that’s okay.”
“Sure, I’ve got until 5:00. That’s when I must be seated for supper. Glenda is pretty particular about meal times.”
“Can you think of anything else that happened that morning, whether it seemed odd or not?”
“Not really because I’m more forgetful than I used to be. After I discovered your mother’s body and came back to the house to call 911, I walked down the road to the gate, my gate, there, you see?”
Ralph pointed to a gate that ran parallel to Pleasant Hill Cut-Off road, that led into his pasture and on toward his pond.
He continued, “when I reached the gate I noticed my chain was backwards. I always loop it a certain way. If we were down there I’d show you. I’d also show you the lock I added since that day.”
“So, you believe someone else had tampered with your chain and maybe, possibly, had opened and closed your gate?”
“Yes, but I didn’t see any strange tire tracks when I walked on down to the pond. I’ve got several neighbors I let fish, so they come in on their own and drive their truck or whatever down closer.”
“Thanks again. It’s been nice meeting you.” I said.
“Same to you Miss Sims. I see you don’t have a ring.”
“No, I’m single. Are you looking?” I probably needed to be on some type medication. I was certainly headed for trouble with my smart-ass mouth.”
“Not yet, but who knows what tomorrow will bring. Seriously, Glenda and I would love to get to know you and your daughter.”
“Daughter? How did you know I had a daughter?”
“I figured only a girl would have a pink book bag. I saw it in the backseat of your car.”
“You are too much. Cullie and I just might come see you, maybe go fishing.”
“Anytime.”
“I have to run; my daughter is waiting.” By now I was standing beside my car with the driver’s door open. “Take care.” I sat down and just before I closed the door Ralph motioned me to stop.
“One other thing, probably nothing but you did ask. Give me just a minute.” He walked to the garage and inside. Within a few seconds he reappeared and returned to my car. I was standing now. “That morning, I found this, just inside the gate.” He handed me a yellow and gold wrapper with blue and red lettering across the front. It read ‘Lone Star Candy Bar.’ “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this brand. Have you?”
I looked at both sides of the wrapper and noticed an address, 254 E Main, Fredericksburg, Texas 78624, along with a phone number, (830)990-9100. “No, I’m pretty sure I haven’t.”
“It’s amazing what type of litter I find along this road. You would think people could find a trash can.”
I felt bold. “Do you mind if I keep this?”
“No, not at all. It’s just garbage. I wouldn’t still have it, but I don’t empty the garage garbage-can but once per month.”
“I have to run. See you soon I hope.” I backed out of his driveway waving at Ralph the whole way. He was a genuine man. He reminded me so much of Papa. It wouldn’t do for Nanny to ever be around this tall and thin man with a wicked sense of humor. She would declare Papa had come back to life.
I tucked the Lone Star Candy Bar wrapper inside my book bag and made it to Kay-La’s Gymnastics at 4:50 p.m. I was greeted by four eyes standing alone outside a locked building, visually shouting, ‘where on earth have you been?’
The Pencil Driven Life 