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 Safecracker, written in 2019, is my seventh novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.
Book Blurb
Fred Martin, a 1972 graduate of Boaz High School, returns to his hometown after practicing law and living in Huntsville for over thirty-five years with two goals in mind. First, to distance himself from the loss of Susan, his wife of thirty-seven years who died in 2013 of cancer. And second, to partner with his lifelong friend, Noah Waters, to crack the safes of Elton Rawlins and Doug Barber, two men who got under their skin as high school football players.
Little did Fred and Noah realize the secrets the two old Mosler safes protected. Who murdered three Boaz High School seniors in the fall of 1973? Is a near-half-century-old plan to destroy Fred’s sister and steal the inheritance from a set of 44-year-old illegitimate twins still alive and well? How far would Fred’s mother go to protect her family?
What starts out as an almost innocent prank turns life-threateningly serious the more Fred learns and the more safes he cracks. All the while, he falls in love with Connie Stewart, his one-date high school classmate who may conceal a secret or two herself.
Chapter 29
I was glad I had changed my mind. Last night around 10:30, Connie had called and invited me to Sunday School. She was an active member of the Singles Department and thought I might enjoy fellowship and study with men and women, young and old, from the area who were never-married, or single from either divorce or death of a spouse. I had, without thinking, agreed, and promised to meet her at 8:30 a.m. outside the old but well-kept house beside the church where the Singles met. It had been a correct decision to call her at 7:00 this morning and tell her I would take a rain check. I hated lying, but I knew it would make for a potentially bad scene for me to be a Bible student. It had been hard enough sitting in Doug’s ‘Death’ class, but that was not strictly a Bible subject.
Instead of formal Sunday School, I opted for my old standby. Almost since I had moved back to Boaz I had arrived twenty or thirty minutes before the Worship hour and sat in the balcony awaiting services to begin. It was my way of observing and pondering, from afar, the smiles, handshakes, nods, and other interactions of folks who came to First Baptist Church of Christ every week and who truly believed in the supernatural.
This morning I couldn’t help but think about mine and Luke’s discussion yesterday while fishing. I had two competing thoughts. What if something happened that was a dead giveaway that God existed? Maybe, God, a real human-looking figure, appeared in the sky? And, He said, where everybody on earth could hear Him, “I am God, Jehovah, the Beginning and the End, the one who has always been. Believe on me and receive a mansion in Heaven that is built and awaits each of my followers after his or her death.” Or, something similar.
The opposite thought was that something happened that just as clearly revealed there was no God. Maybe, scientists, cosmologists, found Heaven and it was empty. That was silly. No, let’s say the body of Jesus was discovered. He was found where a few of the disciples had buried him. Someway, scientists were able to do two things: determine this was the one and only Jesus, the one spoken of in the New Testament, and second, they determined His DNA was no different than any other human.
This opposite thought left me with the certainty that it wouldn’t change anything for any of the people milling around downstairs. First, they wouldn’t believe it, but second, and more importantly, even if they someway said it was true, the discovery was just God testing them. No doubt, their lives wouldn’t change in any significant way; church attendance would remain the same. This was the hallmark of delusion. As Pastor Caleb took to the pulpit I brainstormed what on earth would have to take place for folks to seriously and sincerely examine the real evidence. I almost laughed out loud when I thought it was a miracle every time a die-hard Southern Baptist fundamentalist Christian rejected his or her faith. I couldn’t think of that happening in a long, long time.
Sunday lunch at Martin Mansion was back to normal, well, as normal as it could be without my dear, sweet mother. Deidre and Gabby made sure the family stayed together, that we didn’t forsake our long-held tradition. I couldn’t help but admire Deidre and all the effort she had made to prepare a meal that at least looked like one of Mom’s. No one, including me, said a thing about how different everything tasted. It was all good but Mother had such a way with food. She could make green beans taste as good as homemade ice cream.
“I’ve got a suggestion to make.” Deidre said looking over at me after asking me about her green bean casserole. She kept looking at me as though she was waiting for my response.
I finally said I was open to a suggestion.
“Since you and gorgeous Connie Stewart are now a thing, why don’t you invite her to our Sunday lunches. I hope this doesn’t hurt your feelings, but I suggest she sit in Susan’s chair. Don’t you think it’s been empty long enough?” Deidre smiled and then started passing the mashed potatoes.
I offered a half-hearted laugh and said, “I may have missed something. I often do, but I wouldn’t characterize one date with the lovely Connie as creating a ‘thing’ as you describe it.”
“Fred, you can be so dense. Sometimes I wonder how you were smart enough to become a lawyer. You two have been a thing for nearly half a century, well, at least to Connie.” Deidre was making absolutely no sense.
“Since you know so much, why don’t you educate me?” Sometimes I was too curious.
“You must have pushed Connie’s buttons when you two went out on your one date in high school. What was it? When you were in the tenth grade?”
“Something like that.” Deidre was exactly right but I didn’t want to appear too interested in the details.
“Connie, your own Susan called her cunning Connie. She tried her best to drive a wedge between you two. Even talked her sweet cousin, Johnny, into making his best move on the innocent Susan.”
“Sister, you are deluded. How could this have been going on without me knowing it?”
“Maybe you and Mr. Noah were too focused on football and fiction.”
“What does that mean?” As soon as I asked the question I figured out what Deidre was saying.
“Fiction, as in listening and believing the tall tales Ricky Miller was sharing at the Safe House. While you two were immersed in him, you were ignoring your girlfriend. Of course, their little fling was pretty much a secret, but you know girls share more than boys.”
“Well, that was half a century ago. I guess I shouldn’t blame Susan for straying just a little. Bottom line is she married me.”
“And now Miss Connie has you where she’s always wanted you. Wrapped around her little finger.” Deidre could be, should I say it, such a bitch.
“Pass the biscuits and pause the bull. If you don’t mind.”
As things quieted down, I realized that Sunday lunches would never be the same without Mother. I honestly didn’t believe she would have allowed Deidre to intimidate me like she had done.
The Pencil Driven Life 