Write to Life blog

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 40

Saturday morning was the perfect day to stay in bed.  It was raining outside, pouring buckets.  It was romantic inside.  Regina had stayed over, and we had been awake since a little before three.  The power had gone off, along with the steady hum of a floor fan that I had been addicted to since my college days.  Like any heart-connected couple who was weeks into ‘going steady,’ we took advantage of the early hour by making love.  

The power had come back on just as the post-play was running out of ideas.  Instead of dozing back off, Regina got up, took a shower, and went downstairs.  At 7:30, I attempted to join her but all I found was a note on the bar: “something came up at the Reporter.  Will call later. 

Read paper.  Sorry I’ve kept mum.”

I hadn’t noticed that her note was laying on top of today’s Sand Mountain Reporter.  Regina must have driven to town to buy a copy. 

Mine, in the mailbox, wouldn’t arrive for another four or five hours.

I poured a cup of coffee and retired to my chair in the den.  The subject article was easy to find.  It was on the front page, above the fold.  “Russian Suspect Kills Kip Brewer?”  The title did its job, although the writer, Regina Gillan, was a draw.  I had no choice but to dive in. 

Just as I started to read, my phone vibrated on the end table beside my chair.  It was Ginger.

“Good morning.  I hope I’m not calling too early on a Saturday.” “Not at all.”

“I just wanted to confirm your trip to Tifton, Georgia for the Connor deposition.”

“I think you said it was on Monday, July 2nd.  Right?”  I said sipping my coffee.

“That’s correct.  I’m about to email you the details.  I figure you and Regina will drive down on Sunday.  You spend Monday morning at work, and then you guys rest, relax, and kick around Tifton for a few days.  At least until Thursday, Friday morning at the latest.  By the way, I may have you a quick job for Friday afternoon, but it’s in Albertville, at 3:30, just a single, short deposition in a little fender-bender auto accident.

So, you gotta be back before then.”

“Ginger.  Regina and I really do appreciate this, but I don’t think I deserve such an extra benefit no longer than I’ve been on board.”

“Ridiculous.  It’s already a done deal.  You have reservations beginning Sunday, July 1st, at the Hilton Garden Inn in Tifton.  They are booked through Thursday.”  Ginger said as I heard her typing on a keyboard.

“Regina is excited about getting away.  It’s our first trip together.  Actually, I think she’s more excited about some furniture shopping than anything.”

“Is she looking for anything in particular?”

“Possibly a bedroom suite.  For me.”

“Tell her there are several great antique furniture stores right off the square.  I’ve walked through most of them, even bought a little curio cabinet in the one on the corner of Main and something, I can’t remember.  Listen, I must run.  If you have any questions after reading my email, just give me a buzz.  Thanks Walt.”

“You’re welcome.  Have a nice day.”  

“You too.”

After we hung up I wondered why Ginger had been in Tifton but realized she hadn’t said when she was there.  It might have been twenty or thirty years ago.”

I took another sip of coffee and returned my gaze to the Sand Mountain Reporter.  Regina started off stating that there appears to be an explanation why Frankie Olinger’s fingerprints were on the murder weapon, the Springfield 30-06.  He, along with Warren Tillman, Justin Adams, Ryan Radford, Fulton Billingsley, Danny Ericson, and an unidentified Russian, had met at Club Eden on Aurora Lake two weeks before Kip Brewer was murdered.  Frankie had brought the 30-06 to participate in target shooting, and had left the gun there, inside the cabin.  He was unclear as how the rifle had made its way back to the gun case in his house.  Regina also said that she had learned, from an anonymous source, that the FBI’s crime lab had discovered a second set of fingerprints on the rifle but had been unable to connect them with a suspect.

The heart of the article was, of course, the Russian mystery man. 

Regina had included a grainy photograph of a man caught on camera.  She described him as around six feet tall and weighing around 175 pounds.  Regina confessed the photo was from a service station and convenience store security camera in Snead, Alabama.  She didn’t say how she had discovered the photo.  A closer inspection of the photo appeared to show the man had a long scar across his right cheek, stretching from the corner of his mouth up towards his right ear.  But, the more I looked, the more I thought it might be an illusion since the quality of the photo was rather poor.

Regina bolstered her case when she disclosed information she had obtained from Frankie Olinger.  He stated that the unidentified man at Club Eden two weeks before the murder appeared to be the same man in the photo.  Frankie had stated that he didn’t talk to the man but had watched him shoot across the lake.  Apparently, the only place to practice long shots at Club Eden is to set up a target on the dam, a foot or so below the top, to have a backstop for the bullets.  Frankie said the seven men had each taken turns laying on the ground on the east end of the lake and shooting west to the dam over a half-mile away.  ‘Dead-aim, never missed his target’ as Frankie recalled how Justin Adams described him.  In fact, every shot, no matter which gun he was using, centered the target and layered bullet after bullet on top of the previous one.  Frankie stated that ‘Dead-aim’ had shot his 30-06 several times and had described it as, “bloody reliable.”  

Regina ended her article with a short paragraph about Kip Brewer and a meeting he had had just a few days before he and his wife Darla had gone on their two-week Town Hall journey right before he was shot.  Another anonymous source had told Regina that Kip had his own unnamed source.  This genderless person worked at the White House but was no friend of the President.  It seems X (how Regina identified this person) had described to Kip that there are rumblings around the White House that Kane is looking for a diversionary opportunity, something to distract Americans from all the bad publicity he is experiencing.  X indicated that a confrontation with North Korea or a series of terrorist attacks on American soil are the two things being considered.  Finally, X shared that it appeared likely that someone from the White House staff had met with Russian operatives, Putin’s men, during the recent G-7 Summit in Italy.  Regina ended, stating that Kip Brewer had met with the Senate Judiciary Committee before leaving town in early February.

Some readers might conclude Regina’s article was simply a show of support for her brother-in-law Frankie Olinger.  I read it differently.  After two detailed readings, I, at first, was a little angry at Regina for not confiding in me about what she was working on.  My second cup of coffee helped.  I pondered that she may have thought I might have said something, even something innocuous to say, that might have discouraged her from taking her information public.

By now Sandi kept nudging my left arm wanting me to take her out for a walk.  Before we were both off the porch, a perplexing thought raced into my mind.  How on earth had Regina discovered all this?  This article was the type that almost always originates in the New York Times or the Washington Post.  Before we reached the end of the pier I had my answer.  Regina was just as much a big-league reporter as anyone working for a national paper.  Duh, she had spent almost forty years with the Chicago Tribune.

I was proud of Regina and couldn’t wait to see her and her expression as I bragged on the quality of “Russian Suspect Kills Kip Brewer?”

 

 

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 39

I hadn’t seen DeeDee since Mother’s funeral.  We had talked twice on the phone.  The first time was the day after President Kane told the world what an unpatriotic coward I was.  She had been only mildly sympathetic, saying I had always had a way of being on the opposite side of the majority.  Our second conversation was yesterday afternoon when she called and asked if she could drop by this morning around 11:00.

Sandi and I had just returned from two laps around the pond and were sitting on the back-porch steps when DeeDee drove up.  She was driving what looked like a brand-new Buick.  

“Don’t ask how much it cost.  It’s not mine.”  She said from beyond a lowered passenger side window.  

“How much did it cost?”  I said standing up and walking around the rear of the car and on towards her opened door.  I noted the shiny red vehicle was a Buick Lacrosse.

“The list price on the window sticker was thirty-two thousand and sixty-five dollars.  I just peeled it off yesterday.

“Why are you driving it if it’s not yours?”

“That’s why I wanted to see you.”  DeeDee said fumbling with her iPhone and reaching back onto the front passenger seat for a shoe box.

“I have a new job.  The car is furnished.”

“Okay.  Merck or Pfizer?”

“Neither.  I am working for Justin Adams’ gubernatorial campaign.

“What?  Are you crazy?  He’s a crook.  And, his father is no doubt headed to a federal prison.  Finally, he is President Kane’s twin brother.  Tell me you are joking.”  I said pulling Sandi away from DeeDee.  I couldn’t help but notice her expensive pants suit.

“Justin is not his father.  I’m surprised you of all people would condemn him by association.”

“As they say, ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.’”  

“Walton, you can think anything you want.  I’m excited about what Justin is going to do for Alabama.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you got involved.  You asked to see me.  What’s up?”  I said taking the shoe box from DeeDee and motioning for us to go inside.

“First, I have a message for you.  Frankie will be released from jail sometime today.”  DeeDee said laying her cell phone on the counter, removing her suit jacket, and walking towards the half-bath right off the kitchen.  “Give me a minute.”

When she returned she said, “Justin said Warren had spoken with Vann about the meeting the two of you had with Frankie.  Seems things have moved rather fast.  The Judge set a bond.”

“It sure pays to have friends in high places.  Also, it sure sounds like you are an insider.  What role are you playing in the campaign?”  I asked.

“Campaign manager of course.  What else would I be doing?”  DeeDee said rolling her eyes as though any idiot would know this.

“Sorry, I forgot it’s been, what, nearly twenty years since you comanaged Bob Riley’s campaign?  That was in 2002, right?”

“Yes, and 2003 until the election that November.”

“Oh sister, sister.  If you needed a job why didn’t you just go back to selling drugs?”  I asked, pouring out the rest of the coffee after DeeDee declined.

“Not much future in that.  The competition is too intense for this stage of my life.”

“So, the governor’s race is going to be a piece of cake, no competition there no doubt.”

“Walt, this could be my time.  Even though Kevin and I would enjoy camping and fishing if he retired.  He’ll be sixty-six in January.  However, he’s making more money than ever before.  I see him staying on with Caterpillar for another ten years.  You probably don’t know but they’ve made him Sales Manager for the entire Southeast.  He’s traveling every week.  So, I needed something to do.”

“What did you mean, ‘this could be my time.?”

“I see Justin winning the election.  He has the deep pockets behind him.  Stuart Tinsley from Selma is Justin’s strongest competitor, but he is tainted, or will be when the news hits the streets.”

“I assume you have some inside scoop?”

“Yes, and you’re not hearing it from me.  Back to me. Justin will have a couple of years under his belt in 2020 when Kane wins re-election.  Obviously, you know how tight these two guys are.  I think it’s only natural that Justin move on up.”

“Like George and Louise on the Jefferson’s?

“I hadn’t thought of them in a while.”

“That show was hilarious.  Just like the Justin Adams show will be.”  I said.

“Again Walt, you have this uncanny ability to pick the wrong side.”  DeeDee said removing the lid on the old shoe box she had brought.

“‘Even if you are a minority of one, the truth is the truth.’  Gandhi.”  I said standing straight and saluting DeeDee.

“I get it.  I won’t ever change your mind.”

“And, me yours.  So, what’s in the shoe box?”  I asked.

“Letters, Mother’s.  I found this box in her grandmother’s trunk she had since she was 16.  The trunk was in her closet at Brookdale.”  DeeDee said wiping a tear.

“Letters.  From who?”

“Mostly from you, while you were in college, a few from your days teaching in Maryland.  There’s also a couple she wrote, apparently never mailed.”

“Did you read them?”  I asked.

“Not really, just scanned the envelopes.  Maybe glanced at one or two.”

“Okay, what’s the smoking gun?”

“Not one from what I saw.  I’ll leave it to you to find the keg of TNT.”  DeeDee said reading a text she just received.

“Is that our boss?”

“Yes, and I have to go.  Late lunch at the State Park.  I’ll let Pastor Warren know I told you about Frankie.”

“Sis, I think you’re making a mistake but what in hell do I know?”

“Right, see you little brother.  Take care.”  DeeDee said typing a response to the text.

She walked around to the kitchen side of the bar, pulled her suit jacket from the back of a bar stool, hugged my neck, and walked out the back door.

For the next hour I walked back in time, back forty-plus years.  The last letter I read was dated January 18, 1973.  The envelope was addressed to me.  It contained a five-cent stamp but had never been mailed.  The letter inside was written by my dear mother.  She told of being in Guntersville that morning.  She described the feeling she had, a ‘spirit pulling me,’ she called it.  She had gone to Guntersville to shop at Hammer’s Department Store.  They were having a big sale all week long.  While there she overheard a group of ladies talking about the Micaden Lewis Tanner trial going on in the courthouse.  

Mother knew one of the ladies.  She was ‘high society in Albertville,’ Mother wrote.  The spirit pulled Mother, and apparently the group of women, to go sit in on the trial.  It so happened that it was Friday and almost as soon as they sat down, right behind Sara Adams, according to Mother’s letter, the jury foreman was announcing they were hopelessly deadlocked.  The letter went on to describe how distraught Mrs. Adams was, quoting her as saying, ‘oh my, oh my dear James.’  Mother ended her letter describing the feeling, she said, ‘God spoke to me,’ that she ‘caught’ about Micaden.  

Mother wrote, “‘I was able to see him after the Judge ordered a mistrial.  Micaden and attorney Matt Bearden were hugging each other.  I couldn’t hear the words but Micaden, I know since I had lots of experience reading the lips of your deaf grandmother, I know Micaden said, ‘the Flaming Five are evil.  They are just like their fathers.  And, if they have sons of their own they will not have a chance.’”

I don’t know why Mother wrote me this letter.  Nor, do I know why she wrote her post script, “Walt, I know you went to school with Micaden.  Maybe the two of you someday can get to know each other.  I think you would like him.’”

A few minutes before 2:00, Regina called and said that Delton, her crime reporter, had sent her a text, ‘Frankie Olinger has been released.’

 

 

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 38

For some strange reason Snead State’s maintenance crew had chosen tonight to paint my classroom.  Dean Naylor had left a message with Melvin, the lead painter, that I could hold my class on the stage in the Auditorium.  Since our stenographic machines were locked in a storage closet across the hall I decided we would do something a little different tonight.

After everyone arrived, we walked down the long hallway to the Auditorium.  It had become harder and harder over the semester to keep a clear line between me as the teacher and the six wonderful students I had grown to love.  Each of them seemed to be in a battle, none of their own choosing.  Tonight, I needed to show them how much I cared about what they were going through and to reinforce what I had tried to communicate all semester.  They could talk to me about anything and I would listen.

We walked into the auditorium and down the side aisle to the steps up to the stage.  “Joshua, see if there are any chairs back stage.”

There were none. “Why don’t we sit out in the auditorium and you stand up here behind the podium, give us one of your long and rambling fishing stories, and we’ll take notes.”  Michael said.

“I like your idea but let’s tweak it just a little.  We could all give a talk.  Since we’re not having moot court tonight, we’ll do something different, but it will help develop the primary skills needed to become a great stenographer: excellent concentration, detail oriented, listening, and writing.”

“I don’t want to give a speech.” Felicia said.  “All I could think of talking about would be my problems.  No one wants to hear that.” “I do.”  Valentina said.

“Me too.”  Chimed in Amanda.

“It’s not like there’s any big secrets among us.  Is there?”  Joshua asked.

“You all know my story.”  Christopher said as we all moved down to the floor of the Auditorium in front of the stage.

“Okay, this is what we’re going to do.  One of you will start us off with a short talk, just tell us a story.  The rest of us will take notes.  Of course, using our best shorthand.  Then, I’ll call on a listener to go onstage and retell that story.  We can do this until everyone has both told and retold a story.  Also, one other thing, at the end of the class, you can vote on two winners.  The one who told the most interesting story and the one who best retold a story.”  I said.

I could tell by Michael’s body language he wasn’t thrilled over my lesson plan.  “This isn’t speech class.  This is note-taking.”

“Michael, you are the best storyteller here.  Now, get up there and spin out one of your fantasy yarns.”  Amanda said.

“No way.”  Michael responded.  I knew something serious must be on his mind.  He normally was the clown of the class, always, seemingly happy.

“I’ll go first, Valentina said, getting up and walking to the podium.

For nearly five minutes she shared how Stella Gilham had rescued her from a deep depression and near suicide when her cousin was kidnapped and later died trying to escape.   It was as though Valentina had a purpose, a life lesson to share.  She ended her talk with, “We each have the power to help transform a life, but we must get our hands dirty, we must live our lives in humanity’s trenches.”

Christopher did an excellent job retelling Valentina’s story, although he cut it down to under two minutes.

Over the next ninety minutes I heard five more inspirational stories, all couched within lives who were all struggling in ways I had never faced.  And some way, either through the original story or the retelling, hope emerged, sometimes in awkwardly funny ways.

Amanda told how she worked two part-time jobs to feed her alcoholic mother and three younger siblings.  She described her typical day that included less than five hours sleep every night.  She shared how her mother had given up after her husband, Amanda’s father, had been murdered three years ago.  If it were not for her paternal grandparents, Amanda and her family wouldn’t have a place to live.

Christopher told a story of how he had been ridiculed all his life by his father and his two brothers.  They made fun of him because he loved to read and didn’t like an outdoors life of hunting and fishing.  Christopher had praise for his mother who whispered encouragement although she lived a life of fear from domestic abuse that could arise at any time.

Michael finally acquiesced and shared a short but powerful story about his lifelong battle with diabetes. He shared incident after incident of the problems he had faced from excessive thirst to the frequent need to urinate.  He encouraged the rest of us who were healthy to be, as he put it, “excessively thankful every day.”  

Joshua piggy-backed onto Michael’s story, relating how his father was a diabetic and suffered from fatigue, dizziness, weight loss, blurred vision, and slow wound healing.  Joshua told a funny story of how when he was ten years old he and his father went fishing below the Guntersville Dam.  He described how his father became disoriented and how a rather large woman led him to the back of her van that had a dog cage with two large collies.  The dogs were adorable, and the woman made Joshua’s father ride inside the cage with the dogs as she drove them all the way home to Douglas.  What made the story so funny was Joshua’s facial and body expression he made to depict how confused his father was over being “kidnapped by the giant woman whose children were collies.”

I was beginning to think that Felicia wasn’t going to participate.  With less than fifteen minutes left in class, she reluctantly walked to the podium.  Her story was shocking.

To my surprise, Felicia confessed she had a six-year-old child.  She spoke of how she had shown her what real love is.  And, she told of how young Emma had opened her eyes to the ignorance and bigotry of Christianity.

Emma was now in Kindergarten at Boaz Elementary School.  The shock came when Felicia told us that Emma was born as Colton, a precious little boy.  Sometime around his third birthday he began expressing himself as a girl.  Felicia said Colton had always loved dolls and girly type clothes, but it wasn’t until he was three years old that he began to verbalize that he was a girl.  

Felicia described the horrible issues confronting her and Emma as she started school.  Her kindergarten teacher and the principal, at first, ignored the problem of Emma wanting to use the girl’s bathroom.  They simply ordered Emma to use the boy’s bathroom, accusing her of playing a silly game.  When Felicia learned of the ridicule Emma was facing she confronted the teacher and the principal.  It had taken a multitude of meetings and a stern letter from a Birmingham lawyer to finally persuade the school to develop a special ‘bathroom’ plan for Emma.

Unsurprising to me, Felicia shared how she had gone for counseling and consultation with Pastor Warren at First Baptist Church.  She said, with her face turning red from what I suspect was rage, “Felicia dear, for parents to think a 3-year-old is old enough to make life changing decisions is mind blowing.  This entire transgender debate is a revolt against the sovereignty of God because He and He alone gets to decide what sex we are.”  As Felicia stopped speaking she walked back down from the stage.  Just as she was about to take her seat, she said, “I forgot to say, what Pastor Warren said was exactly what he had to say.  All my life I have bought into his God and Bible talk, but now, dealing with this very real issue, I believe there has to be real answers for why this is happening to my little Emma.”

We stayed ten minutes over because everybody wanted to know who won.  I think that was because, as motivation, I had promised twenty-five-dollar prizes to the two winners.  It was perfectly fitting that Felicia Shea won the best story award, and Christopher Minor won the second prize for a hilarious re-telling of Joshua Boggs’ kidnapped by collie dog story. 

Felicia, as was becoming routine, lingered after everyone else had left.  I could tell she wanted to engage me in conversation, but I had planned on meeting Regina for a late supper.  Before I could explain why I had to leave she asked me, “Mr. Shepherd, I trust your judgment.  Why is it that fundamentalist Christians never have an answer other than God is in control or something like that?”

“To me, it reflects their worldview and their disinterest in researching.  Probably includes their fear they will learn something that directly conflicts with the Bible and their beliefs.”  I said, closing my briefcase.

“Can I ask you a favor?”  Felicia said.

“Sure, as always, ask me anything.”

“Would you try to find out what researchers have found out about transgender children?”

“Felicia, you are more than capable of finding this out on your own.”

“I know, but I want to hear it from you.  I trust you.  And, you surely have more time than I do.”  She said with a smile that reminded me of how Regina looked as a teenager nearly fifty years ago.

“Okay, I’ll consider it as soon as I can.  Sorry, but right now I must go.  You take care and I’ll see you next week.”  I said.

“Got a hot date with my auntie?”

“Something like that.  You know how she hates someone being late.”

“Have fun and don’t let her baby blues put you in a trance.” “Ha. Ha.”  I said as we walked out of the auditorium. 

 

 

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 37

I had just made mine and Regina’s reservations with the Hilton Garden Inn in Tifton when Vann walked in.  As usual, without knocking.  It was Monday morning.  Last week we had decided to change our routine from a Saturday session to a Monday session.  I was simply too tempted on Saturday mornings to be with Regina, especially if she had spent the night.

“Pastor Warren sends his greetings.”  Walt said, sitting his briefcase down on the bar before walking over to the coffee pot.

“You two are getting pretty tight, aren’t you?”

“Nothing new.  Been this way since Warren was in high school and found out I wasn’t his typical Christian teacher.  I think he always appreciated my contrarian attitude.”

“Glad you like him.  He’s too much of a Christian opportunist for me.”  I said.

“If you only knew what he’s up to.”

“Okay, are you going to tell me or just bring this up and drop it?”

“Warren and I had breakfast early this morning.  Normally, we meet on Sunday mornings, but he called yesterday to reschedule.  He asked me to assist him in a project.”

“Oh lord.  This can’t be good.”  I said, filling the dishwasher dispenser with detergent.

“I should have known this but him and Justin Adams hold the two top positions in Kane Tribe.”

“Clarify for me, what exactly is Kane Tribe?”

“I thought we had talked about this.  Anyway, it began as a grassroots organization, totally disjointed, when President Kane’s campaign started showing a little promise.  After he was elected, Kane’s son, Andrew, Jr., was enlisted by the President to create a formal structure.  You recall Frankie mentioning a meeting he attended, along with Warren and Justin, during the Inauguration weekend.”  Vann said.

“What’s formal about it?”

“It now has fifty chapters, one for each state, and each chapter has county delegates.  Each chapter obviously has leaders.  That’s what I meant when I said Warren and Justin were the leaders.  Warren is president of religion and Justin is president of politics.”

“So, each chapter is focused on religion and politics?”  I asked.

“Yep.  What else would they be interested in?”

“Deceiving the American people come to mind.”

“Old boy, that’s why Warren sends his greetings.  He knows you and I are best friends.  After he enlisted my help, he said he hoped I could persuade you to attend a local meeting and maybe join the Tribe at some point.”  Walt said.

“Only if I could replace Justin and head up the politics division.”

“I’ll pass that along.”

“So, what is Warren wanting you to do?”  I asked.

“Two things.  Help him with communications and be a sounding board.”

“Communications with who?”

“Just as you would expect, Kane Tribe has an agenda.  On the religion side, Warren is only one of fifty pastors who President Kane has personally selected to mentor him.  One from every state.  I know you recall that Kane stayed with Pastor Warren the night of Justin’s campaign kick-off.”

“How could I forget.”  I said.

“The religion division of Kane Tribe has one main objective between now and the 2020 election.  To motivate citizens in each state to support the pre-selected Republican candidates.”

“What do you mean by pre-selected?”

“Here’s the big picture.  Kane Tribe wants to win re-election, but that’s not all.  It wants to posture and empower the states for a constitutional convention.”

“Oh, so it can amend the constitution?”

“Absolutely.  Warren wouldn’t say what type amendments the convention would propose.  He said that is premature.  He did say that Kane Tribe, obviously a mouth-piece for Kane himself, sees this objective as wholly achievable by 2020.  Of course, the first goal is to win big in the mid-terms.”

“Win big means have Kane type Republicans elected to Congress, both state and federal?”  I asked.

“Yes.  Did you know that currently there are 33 Republican governors and only 18 states where Democrats control at least one house of congress?”

“I know Alabama has a Republican governor and both houses of congress are Republican controlled.  What are the numbers?  How is the control divided in our state?”

“Out of 35 Alabama Senators, there’s only 8 Democrats, and out of 105 Alabama House of Representatives, there are only 33 Democrats.”

“I think I recall that it takes two-thirds of the legislators to vote for a Constitutional Convention.”  I said.  “Let’s see.”  I grabbed a pencil and sheet of paper and started figuring.  “It will take 33 State legislatures to call for the Convention, and 38 to ratify the amendments it proposes.  In Alabama, it will take 70 Representatives and 24 Senators.  Let’s see, there are already 72 Republican Representatives and 27 Republican Senators.  So, Alabama already has enough to both call for a Convention, and to ratify its proposed Amendments.”  I said.

“Yes, assuming all Republicans voted for it.  And, that’s the rub.  As you know, not all Republicans are in Kane’s camp.  Not yet.  But, this is the purpose of Kane Tribe, especially the state chapters.  Warren and the other 49 directors of the Religion Division, are coordinating a plan to minister to all the Republican representatives and senators in every state, including all the new candidates.”

“I figure that Justin and his 49 Politics Division colleagues have a plan to locate, educate, and present candidates that bleed Kane blood?”  I asked.

“Walt, you are a fast learner.  The bottom line for Warren is, as he says, ‘Vann, it’s simple really.  All I must do is share the gospel.  The Holy Spirit will do the rest.’  I assume you have heard that Warren fully believes that President Kane is God’s man, that God himself has chosen Kane to lead American back to its Christian roots.”

“Vann, do me a favor.  Call Pastor Warren and tell him I surrender, that I am willing to do all I can to support his efforts.”  I said with my best sarcasm, but also with my stomach beginning to feel sick and nauseous.

“I’ll let him know Wednesday night at prayer meeting.  Now, we must focus on our book.  “Last week, our homework was to brainstorm a title for our magnum opus.  What say you?”  Vann said, removing his notepad from his briefcase.

For the next two hours I let Vann do most of the talking.  I couldn’t concentrate.  The only thing I learned was that next week, during our book session, we would get right to work after Vann arrived. 

We would not discuss anything beforehand.  

After Vann left, I sat back down at the bar and noticed he had left his notes.  It contained twelve suggested titles for our book.  One was circled.  The Coming Civil War.  I hadn’t even heard Vann suggest it out loud.  Maybe he hadn’t.  Maybe he had simply written it down.  Either way, I found it a satisfying name.  It exactly encapsulated my feelings for what lay ahead.

 

 

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 36

I had spent most of Friday afternoon at Paradise Storage in Albertville with the contents of ‘Clinton-5.’  The owners had been generous to allow me to use a spare office in the main building.

Over my thirty-five-year career with the White House, I had accumulated 35 of these plastic, file-storage boxes.  The Clinton years, 1993 – 2001 consumed seven boxes.  This afternoon, I had been focused on the dark months of 1998 and early 1999 which were enveloped with Clinton’s impeachment process.  I knew the transcripts did not contain anything from any Congressional hearing, either the House of Representatives or the Senate, since I had no duties there.  It was my personal notes that I was after, the ones I always had created after each Presidential conference, meeting or event, I had recorded.

One note had caught my attention.  It was made late on the 23rd of December 1998.  Clinton had called a meeting of the full White House staff.  The purpose of the meeting was for him to apologize for lying.  It was apparent to me that he was truly remorseful for having lied.  He gave us explicit details of two times that he had been untruthful.  He first referred to the now infamous statement he had made earlier in the year, “I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss Lewinsky.”  Later in the meeting, he quoted the second lie he had told, this one in his Paula Jones deposition, “I have never had sexual relations with Monica

Lewinsky. I’ve never had an affair with her.”

I will always have high regards and respect for President Bill Clinton.  He, like every other President, had about as many enemies as he did friends.  By him feeling it important to meet with his staff and by him encouraging us all to always be totally truthful, my faith in him multiplied.  I will forever remember the final statement he made before our meeting disbanded, “There is nothing more important than the truth.  Never let your personal well-being tempt you to lie.  I wholly failed to fulfill my personal and professional commitment.  I will never be able to fully restore my reputation.  Please don’t make the same mistakes I made.”

As I returned Clinton-5 to my storage unit, I couldn’t help but relive my last meeting with President Kane.  He and his Chief of Staff had openly and unashamedly demanded that I lie.  Clinton’s reputation certainly was negatively impacted by his lies, but Kane seemed absent of a moral center to begin with.  Lying for him was as natural as breathing.  It seemed he believed lying was simply another tool, like a podium or teleprompter, to enhance and clarify communications.  

Enough of Presidents and lying for one day.  As I passed Industrial Boulevard, all I could think of was Regina.  I couldn’t wait to prepare her favorite Lasagna and to hold her in my arms.  These were nice thoughts.  I wasn’t as confident about describing to her last night’s conversation with Ginger.

After we both ate two servings of my mother’s Lasagna design, we were in no mode to talk.  Ever since Regina had returned from her recent Chicago trip we had spent frequent quality time in my bedroom.  It would be no different tonight.  No doubt I valued our love-making.  It was so radically different from what I remembered about mine and Jennifer’s sex life.  I also had become quickly addicted to our ‘post-play’ as we called it.  We would lay side by side, usually me on my right side and her on her left, with my right arm under her head.  She would snuggle down into my shoulder.  Mutually, we had adopted a rule, our talks during ‘post-play’ were limited to us, our relationship, our hopes and dreams, and fears.  Tonight, we had engaged in a little dreaming.  

“Don’t let this scare you or make you feel threatened in any way.  Okay?”  Regina asked, as the fresh lilac smell from her hair made me think of the ocean for some strange reason.

“Too late.  I’m already scared.  Just laying here with you is scary. 

I’ve given you my body and now you want my soul.”

“Goofy.  Hush.  Let me talk.  I have a question.  Where do you see us in five years?”  Regina asked raising up on her left elbow and pouring her baby blues into me.

I closed my eyes and hummed.  “Oh, mystery woman, I see you a much fatter woman.” I said as I continued to hum.

“Quit.  Walt, I’m serious.  You are making fun of me and us.”

“You know why?  Because I love you when you get a little agitated.

“Thanks, now answer my question.  Seriously.”  She said laying her head back down on my shoulder.

“Let me first say I’m very biased.  I see what I want to see because I am heavily under your persuasion and influence.  I see us married, you pregnant, and me pastoring my first church.”  I said.

“Let’s go watch TV.  You think I’m joking and you’re making fun of me and my question.”  Regina said, beginning to sound truly angry.

“Baby, lean over and look at me.  I’m sorry.  Now, let me tell you the truth, my hopes, my dreams, for us.  Regina, I love you with all my heart.  I never want to lose you.  I want us together forever.  I’m not crazy about following tradition and being formally married but I’m not against it.  Whatever it takes to make you happy and make you feel secure, that’s what I want.  Do you see what I’m trying to say?”

“I do.  And, back to your funny little statement.  Of late, I’ve wondered many times what it would have been like for us to have married after high school and had children.  Now, at 63, I very much regret not having babies.”  Regina said with a tear forming in her right eye.

“Baby, all I can promise is that I will do all I can to help you make a baby or two.”

“There you go, making fun of my seriousness.”

“Babe, if I could go back, if I could do it all over, I would have rejected Jennifer and chosen you.  I would have married you and helped you make as many babies as you wanted.  You do believe me, don’t you?”  I said.

“I do.  And, I’m totally thankful we had this conversation.  I love you Walt and I am yours as long as you want me.”

“Finally, you say it.  Forever it is.  Now, let’s go downstairs for some Black Walnut.  I picked up a bucket today.  Also, I have something to tell you.”

“Okay, go on down.  I’ll be down shortly, after I fix my face.”

“That may take a while, but I’ll wait.”  I said as I dressed in a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt.

After I ate two cups of our favorite ice-cream, and two bites of Regina’s, I told her that I had taken on another part-time job.  At first, she didn’t like the idea, thinking that the very word, ‘undercover’ sounded too dangerous, but then after I told her it wasn’t anything like what she was thinking, anything like being an undercover cop befriending a drug dealer, she came around.  I think it was because of her mutual dislike, virtually hatred, for President Kane and his shrinking but still strong constituency. 

“Will you have to go to Chicago much?”  Regina asked.

“I’m not really sure.  All I know right now is that you and I have to be in Tifton, Georgia the weekend of July Fourth.”  I said, hoping she would be available.

“What in the heck is in Tifton, Georgia?”

“Ginger has assigned me a job there, a couple of depositions in a Federal case that Maynard Cooper & Gale is involved with.  She said they had requested I be the court-reporter if possible.”

“Sounds like a business trip.  Why am I going?” Regina said, getting up from the couch and carrying our empty bowls to the dishwasher.

“It’s the Fourth of July.  Ginger knew that we, you and I, would be doing something together.  She offered to pay for a couple of nights hotel and meals if you would go.  Ginger thought that would help me make the decision whether to accept the assignment.”  I said.

“That was nice.  She didn’t have to do that, but I’m glad she did. 

Hey, that’s our first trip since we’ve been going steady.”

“It’s also our first trip since you started making me massage your body.”  I said hoping Regina would come back to the couch.

“Sorry, to make you such a slave.  Oh, here’s an idea.  Let’s do some shopping while we’re gone.  You know we’ve been talking about replacing your bedroom suite.  You know the one upstairs in that ugly brown-walled room with green carpet, the one with the bed your ex-father-in-law bought you and Jennifer?

“I guess we could, but that bed still presents some wonderful memories.”  I said.

“I’ll wonderful your memory Walt Shepherd.  Seriously, at least let’s look around.  We might get some ideas.”

“Okay, if Tipton is anything like Boaz, it will have an antique store or two.  You did mention antiques a few weeks ago.”  I said.

“Good.  Now I’m getting excited about our trip.”  Regina said sitting in my chair slipping on her walking shoes.

“Since I’m being a good puppy dog, you sure you don’t need another massage?”

“Funny, now that you’ve planted your ‘wonderful memories’ in my mind.  I wouldn’t want to put you out in the least.”

“Don’t worry.  I’m honored to serve you any way I can.”

“I bet you are.  Let’s go for a walk Fido.”