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 31
May 1971
The number I heard was 1,837. This was the number of folks who had walked through the six degrees of hell during the three presentations of Judgment House. The other number, the most important, was 129. This, according to Pastor Walter on Sunday morning, was the number of souls who were saved from eternal fire and torture in Hell’s pit. Only about six percent of these were adults. The remainder were mostly teenagers although there were twenty or thirty around the age of ten, the minimum age the Church allowed into the scariest show on earth. It was comforting to see firsthand the love and kindness shown to those children nine and under. It was almost like these Baptist fundamentalists realized their little show might inflict mental harm on such young minds. If only they had applied their rule to everyone. I had always thought it rather odd that there is no ‘Hell’ in the Old Testament. It was introduced in the New Testament, I suspect, as a marketing tool, one that most folks, especially in a day of widespread ignorance of how the world worked, were simply afraid not to believe.
It rarely ever happened. This morning, Brother Walter announced there would be no services tonight. His justification, one no doubt God himself had communicated to the zealous pastor, was that everyone needed some rest. The valiant effort by adults and teenagers alike had taken a toll. Everyone was exhausted from two weeks of preparation and what seemed like a thirty-two-hour marathon beginning Friday afternoon at 4:30 p.m. When I heard this good news from the pulpit, I wasn’t tired at all. I had known this since late last night when Olivia and I, and Brother Randy, were closing Hell. She had whispered to me this news and suggested we start our first date. She said it would be a sort of trial run. She was fully committed to our original plan: supper (what she called it) at Dairy Queen and Shane at the Martin Theater. I had given her no resistance to an afternoon of dating practice.
I picked Olivia up in my Corvair on Elm Street beside the parking lot that is the furthest from the parsonage. When she got in the car she said that she thought she was going to have to call me with a change of plans. At the last minute, Betty, her Mom, had interjected some assistance, encouraging Pastor Walter to his Sunday afternoon nap an hour earlier than normal.
“I thought you could start dating when you turned 15.” It was not unusual at all for me to be confused when it came to Olivia and her house rules.
“You left off one word, supervised.” Olivia said pouring her baby blues into my heart. She was gorgeous no matter the time of day, what she was wearing, or whatever her mood. She truly didn’t need makeup. Her skin wasn’t dark, but it had a hue and glow to it, especially after an hour or so in the sun that made me imagine what the goddess of love would look like. Today, she had on jeans, a little tighter than normal, an old Boaz Pirate practice jersey, and a thick, unbuttoned denim shirt, probably Wade’s. She had her long and silky blond hair pulled back.
“Then how are we getting to go out next Friday night? Is Papa Bear coming along?”
“No, not exactly, but we will be monitored no doubt. Probably Wade and his buddies will be at Dairy Queen enjoying burgers and onion rings while we are. Somebody, I’m not sure who, but probably someone I won’t recognize, will be at the theater. And, of course, everything will be timed.”
“So, whose watching us now?” I said, almost regretting coming.
“Mom’s watching. Well, not actually. Dad doesn’t know. You will never know how much Miss Betty trusts you.” Olivia said moving over next to me as we turned left on Highway 179.
“She likes me too. She sees me as her future son-in-law. I just know it.”
“Marvelous Matt, don’t get ahead of yourself. You have at least six degrees of hell to pass through before you even get in the running for Olivia Kaye Tillman.”
Ever since Spring Break we had been semi-planning a little adventure. It was a little risky. We wanted to try to find Club Eden at Aurora Lake. We had been too preoccupied with simply being alone during the five afternoons we had spent that week on an old cotton blanket beside the Lake. This afternoon was the first chance we had of doing a little exploring.
I turned off Lawson Gap Road, down a trail almost too narrow for my car. I parked, and we walked back across the road and down to the Lake and across the dam. This had been as far as we had ventured during Spring Break.
“There should be a trail that leads to the back side of the camp.” Olivia had shared with me how she had heard bits and pieces about this secret place, a place that Wade and his buddies, probably every member of the Flaming Five, came and brought females and food. Olivia said the guys stayed overnight down here a lot, especially after basketball season. She assured me they wouldn’t be here today.
Before crossing the dam, we found the two hiking sticks we had hidden along with the old cotton blanket. We couldn’t figure out why they were still in place while the plastic wrapped blanket was missing.
“You’re sure there won’t be anyone around? I’d hate to get caught trespassing and more so, I’d never forgive myself if I got you in trouble. Didn’t you tell me that no one has seen this place but the Flaming Five and their dads?”
“And their forefathers. I think this place has been here, I’m talking about the cabin and Club Eden, since the late 1800’s. Also, from what I can gather, quite a few girls have been here, but they’ve never seen it.” Olivia said picking her way down a rocky path alongside a little stream that appeared to be fed by the Lake’s runoff.
“That’s confusing. They’ve been here but haven’t seen it?”
“I meant to say they don’t know where this place is. I’ve heard Randi say the guys put black hoods over the heads of the girls before they get anywhere near this place.”
“Sounds eerie.” It took nearly twenty minutes to reach the first sign of civilization. The woods were thick and tall, blocking out most of the light from the sun. The tall and narrow wooden box turned out to be an outhouse. This was specifically determined after we gained our courage to peek inside the wooden door with a half-crescent moon carved in the top quarter. It was a skinny little structure, with less than two feet by four feet of floor space in front of a bench with two cut-out holes. I suppressed the thought of two members of the Flaming Five sharing a time here relieving themselves. We didn’t tarry long.
We continued along the creek and within a few minutes came upon an old Army tent, a rather large one. We walked up the creek bank and around to the front of the tent. Again, the brave Olivia, opened the door, lifting a dark green canvas curtain. Inside were two large wooden poster beds covered in animal skins. I didn’t know there were bears around these parts. The floor was a dirty looking carpet.
“I just can’t see my brother laying here with a girl. He’s not like that.” Olivia was either joking or as naive as a rock.
“He’s sixteen going on seventeen. Believe me, it wouldn’t take a teenage goddess to make Wade strip down naked under the bear skins. I bet a Playboy magazine would do the trick.” I wished I hadn’t said my last statement. It sounded dirty and I always tried my best to be the gentleman Mother had drilled into me from the time I was barely walking.
“Let’s go see the cabin.”
We walked outside the tent and back towards the creek. In fifty yards or so we came upon a fire ring encircled with huge rocks from the creek, and surrounded by old wooden benches and a half-dozen metal chairs. It was there we saw the cabin. It was set back from the fire ring and creek maybe a hundred feet. It was on a little hill. From where we were, we couldn’t see the front.
I followed Olivia up the knoll and around to the front. Here, we saw a graveled driveway coming from the south through a thick grove of trees. The cabin was truly a log cabin, probably made with trees cut down from the surrounding property. It had a porch across the front. We walked up the wooden steps and sat down in two of the five oak rocking chairs.
“Don’t you want to go in?” I said feeling like someone was probably waiting inside to scare us, maybe tie us up for being here.
“It’s locked, I tried the handle as you were moving our chairs closer together.” Olivia said sitting beside me and taking my right hand.
“Okay, this is a good time to practice. You are doing great. You took my hand. This is exactly what you are supposed to do once we get seated at the movie. Then, when the lights go down and the previews begin, you place your lips on mine. This is where I need to be prepared.” I was hoping Olivia would appreciate my humor, clothed in real hope.
“Settle down Matty boy. Let’s enjoy the view. Talk to me, I’m sad.” I knew this would happen. It seemed every time we had privacy all she wanted to talk about was what was coming, me leaving. It was less than a month away. I guess it hadn’t quite hit me as hard as it had Olivia, and that was weeks ago.
For the next hour I listened as Olivia gave me a familiar story. She loved me enough to run away with me if only I would. She described how she didn’t believe she could live without me and that three more years of high school, apart from me, would be an eternity. I loved her with all my heart. And, told her this as she poured her soul out to me.
At one point she got down on her knees in front of me, took both my hands, and said, looking up with me with the saddest blue eyes, “Matt, you probably wouldn’t love me if you knew the real me. The things that I’ve done.”
I started once to question her, because clearly, I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. I felt like, no, I knew, this wonderful girl, a fifteen-year-old girl whose body could easily pass for a twenty-something year old woman. Her mind was both young and naive, and mature beyond an older woman who had weathered it all. It was almost like she could see from outside herself, like looking down on herself from above. That disconnected self, recognized that she was merely a puppet for her father and all his Christian constituents. She easily responded to every string pull. At other times, that disconnected self could see that Olivia was near a breakthrough, like facts, evidence, experiences, were mounting up and pulling her towards truth. It seemed the only thing missing was someone to whisk her away to freedom.
“Olivia, what I care about is you, who you are right this moment. I don’t care if you killed the Pope, I love you. You say you love me. I believe you. You show, in every way, that you love and care for me. We talk like we are committing our lives to each other. Is it possible I have misread you?” Once again, I had to ask.
“Goofy you. You are so slow. But, don’t worry. I would tell you a thousand million times that I love you and that I want us together. I am yours if you want me.” By now, Olivia’s knees were hurting from too-long pressing against the hardwood of the porch’s floor. She got up and leaned back against the porch railing.
“She says wonderful things to me, yet, she gets up and moves away from me.” I said realizing that my statement had been completely unprepared but eerily significant.
“You got it wrong. He ups and moves away from me, north to Chicago. Matt stay, please stay. You can live with us, no that won’t work, but, you can live with Brother Randy. We can find you a place. Please. I need you to be here. I can’t live without you.” I was so dissatisfied with myself. Why was I so gutless? Here I was, within reach of the most wonderful girl I would ever meet. She was begging me to either take her away, to run away, or to stay in Boaz while Dad returned to our home in Chicago in less than a month. I’d read too many novels to not know that time and distance are the greatest enemies to the type of relationship Olivia and I had, a once in life type of love relationship. Who was I kidding to think that three years, Olivia’s tenth, eleventh, and twelfth grade years, could go by and we would remain just as connected as we were right now? No doubt she was the prettiest girl at Boaz High School. She would be inundated with male suitors. I doubt she would be able to resist temptation for so long a time. I was likely the naivest eleventh grader in the world.
This conversation would have probably continued until forever, at least until late afternoon when we would have just enough daylight to hike the long way back to my car, if we hadn’t thought we heard a car or truck coming down the driveway. We heard it at the same time. Instantly, we looked at each other and knew what we had to do. We had never moved so fast. We were down the porch steps, to the side of the cabin, and headed beyond the fire ring and to the trail that led to the outhouse and on toward Aurora Lake before we realized that it was thunder. What we thought we had heard was just our minds playing a trick on us. Whatever sound it would have been, would have been fed, virtually created, by our concern over being in a place we were not supposed to be. We had unconsciously been on alert.
Before we were half way to the Lake it started to rain. The trail quickly became slick. I think we realized it at the same time. Olivia, always in the lead, turned around and said, “our walking sticks, we left them on the front porch.”
“Too late now, it’s getting dark. We don’t have time to go back for them.” I was surprised how quickly the woods had grown eerily black. The bright sunshine of a few hours ago had provided just enough light through the thick covering of leaves to allow us comfortably to make our way down the trail. Now, with the thunderstorm moving in and pushing the sunlight away, I could barely see the trail. I was growing more and more concerned about how Olivia was going to explain being soaking wet to her father when she turned and walked the few steps back to me.
It was pouring buckets; the thick canopy overhead didn’t seem to slow the torrents of water coming from the heavens. “Hold me Matt. I don’t want to miss this moment with you, here, in the rain. This is storybook. Don’t you see this is God’s confirmation? He is giving us the most wonderful romantic moment, one that I, for one, will never forget.”
I started to voice my agreement, but felt an unusual degree of courage. I pulled Olivia’s drenched body into mine and kissed her. At first gently, but she allowed the passion between us to erupt. Deep kisses, fully sexual, engulfed our actions over the next few minutes. Our bodies sunk to the leafy, muddy mess on the forest floor. We made love as beautifully as any two teenagers ever have, even those who, like us, were head over hills into a once in life love relationship. The only thing different was our clothes stayed on, other than that old denim shirt of Olivia’s. Our lovemaking was beyond sex. Holding and kissing Olivia planted one thought deep into my psyche, ‘if being overwhelmed with Olivia, feeling the ecstasy of her body next to mine was other-worldly with our clothes on and no body parts touching skin to skin, how much more unbelievable will it be when we are free to be naked and share our bodies, minds, and hearts in total freedom?”
The sound of a lightning strike on a nearby tree caused our heads to come down out of the clouds. The South was turning me into a cliché addict. We quickly knew we had to get back to my car. The storm wasn’t letting up. It was simply too dangerous out here, no matter the pleasures we were experiencing.
At 2:00 a.m., with Olivia safe, dry, and warm in her room and me the same at home in mine, we were still giggling over the best afternoon of our lives. She said she had spent two hours after dinner recording our adventure in her journal.
“Did you actually write down how you convinced your father?” I asked.
“I did. I couldn’t have ever done it without Mother.”
I didn’t ask how she had pulled off this feat. It could have been disastrous.
It was the only all-nighter we ever had. We talked nonstop until dawn. We pretty much had drawn out a sketch of our entire lives. I was about to ask her the real reason she had chosen New Mexico as our home after college when she shouted, “Matt, I’ve got to go. I’m sick.”
It was weird. I heard the phone hit the floor or that’s what it sounded like. I didn’t hang up. Her bathroom was right next to her room, within a few feet of her bed. I could hear her heaving and gagging. I imagined her bent over the commode. I felt powerless. I so wanted to run to her house and squat beside her, patting her forehead with a wet cloth. I finally had to hang up, I couldn’t stand the horrible sounds any longer.
I surprised myself and fell asleep. At six-thirty Dad came in to rouse me up for school. He could tell I was worried about Olivia, especially after I gave him the grueling details of what I had heard.
“Sounds like your mother when she was carrying you.” Dad said pouring him another cup of coffee before heading out.
I couldn’t believe he would say such a thing. That was a sick thought, Olivia was a teenager, a ninth-grader at that. How could he equate Mother’s experience at twenty-one, pregnant and married, to that of an innocent teenager, one so dedicated and faithful to her God. He knew I was more than upset when I stormed back to my room.
I didn’t make it to school at all. Instead, I went to see Olivia after lunch. She too had stayed home. She seemed fully recovered and really didn’t want to talk about her sudden sickness. It was the first day of school that both of us had missed all year. So much for perfect attendance.
The Pencil Driven Life 