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 20

I was reading Camino Island, John Grisham’s latest novel, early Sunday morning when Regina called. 

“I know it’s early, but I knew you were up.  I just wanted to give you plenty of time to get ready for church.”

“Church?  Why do you think I want to go to church?”  I said, closing my book and laying it aside on the end table.

“Don’t think of it as church, think of it as investigative journalism.”  Regina said. I could tell she was in the bathroom because I heard the commode flush.

“That’s your job, not mine.”

“I need an assistant, an extra set of eyes.”

“Well, I am pretty observant.  I now detect you are in your bathroom.  And, your standing in front of the mirror admiring your hot body.”

“Walt Shepherd.  Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“A good detective just follows the facts where ever they lead.”  I said, questioning whether my vision includes her in a matching pink bra and panties.

“I have to say I kind of like what I’m hearing, but I’m blown away hearing it from you.  This isn’t quite like the Walt I knew back in high school.”  Regina said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Back then I was so brainwashed by Christianity I couldn’t allow myself to be tempted.  Now, that’s powerful.  What normal teenage boy doesn’t think about sex and attempt at every opportunity to explore?” “Earth to Walt.  I called to tell you that we are going to First

Baptist Church of Christ today.  Be ready at 10:30 and I’ll pick you up.” “I like the sounds of that.  I’ll be waiting.”

We arrived a few minutes early and continued to sit in Regina’s car.

“Why are we really here?”  I asked Regina.

“I figured you were bright enough to think this through.  Anyway, I’ll lay it out for the simple-minded.  Most of this is old news, at least to those with their heads out of the sand.  Warren Tillman is now the lead pastor.  Sometime last year, Wade, his father, was arrested for a bunch of stuff, including murder.”

“You don’t have to tell me all that.  I’ve kind of kept up with the rumors.  There are three unsolved cases, murders, whatever.  The disappearance of John Ericson, Randall Radford, and Freddie Billingsley.  Don’t forget, we all went to high school together.  You were there.”  I said, feeling strange even talking about this stuff.

“Okay, so I assume you have somewhat kept up with Micaden Lewis Tanner?  Do you remember him being charged with murder the summer after we all graduated from high school?”  Regina said.

“I do.  He was acquitted.  Right?”

“Gosh, it’s nearly 11:00 o’clock.  Let’s go.”

We walked inside the auditorium and an usher whispered that there were a few seats up in the balcony, the main floor was overflowing. 

Regina and I turned towards the balcony stairwell without being told. 

We both remembered exactly where it was.

We had to walk to the far side of the balcony.  It seemed every person already seated turned and watched us.  I glanced a couple of times toward the seated faithful but mostly looked ahead.  I didn’t see a soul I knew.

We found a seat on the front row of the far side.  I remembered from my youth the disadvantage of these seats.  The designers hadn’t considered rightly.  When seated, you looked out into a golden safety bar that ran horizontal eighteen inches or so above a two-foot solid wall in front of your feet.  To see the pulpit and most of the choir you had to slouch down in your seat, or sit on the edge of your seat, straight-up, and look over and down onto the main floor.

The choir finished “Victory in Jesus” just as we settled in our seats.  Pastor Warren walked to the pulpit and thanked everyone for coming.  He spent a couple of minutes welcoming three rows full of visitors from a church in Michigan who were passing through and headed to south Florida or somewhere for two weeks of mission work.  Warren said, but I didn’t catch the exact details, what had brought the group to First Baptist Church of Christ.

After another half-dozen songs or so, Warren showed why a Tillman had been pastor here for over a hundred years.  He, just like I remembered his grandfather Walter, and his father Wade, was a dynamic speaker, rarely used notes, and used pitch, tone, and a multitude of body language to always be persuading.  He put to shame, almost every politician I had ever known.  The best compliment I could give him was, ‘Warren, you are the most genuine, believable salesman I have ever seen.’ 

Of course, Warren’s preaching didn’t convince me of anything, other than it was just one more dose of the Christian myth.  I had learned a long time ago that when I had to endure a sermon, I would think about being on a sandy beach, maybe on a Caribbean island, walking together with Regina.  I was very capable of immersing myself in this storyline for a good hour.  Funny, I always started the plot with me rejecting Franklin Ericson’s offer, telling Jennifer I wasn’t the man for her, and instead, pouring my heart out to Regina as we sat in our ladder-back chairs in the barn loft.

We were riding back to my house after Warren called a halt after five or six ‘come-to-the-altar’ verses of “Just as I Am,” when Regina’s phone vibrated.  It was lodged in the car’s console and I automatically looked down on the screen.  It was Delton.

“Hello.”  Regina said.

She kept silent and continued driving for what seemed like a couple of minutes.

“I’ll be there at 2:00.  Thanks.”

“May I ask what’s so important you can’t stay with me all day.”  I said, convinced someone or something was conspiring against me, against me spending some quality time with the woman I loved.  Had I really thought that?

“Delton, my crime reporter said there’s been a development in the murder case, Frankie’s case.  He needs to discuss an angle he is considering.  He doesn’t want to waste a lot of time drafting his article if

I’m opposed to it.”

“How long will it take?”  I regretted saying that as soon as it left my mouth.  Now, I’m sounding like a desperate teenager.  Surely, I’m not so needy.

“Not sure.  I’ll call you later.”

Regina dropped me off at the back porch.  I had thought she might come in for a sandwich, but she seemed preoccupied.  I refused to grovel, said goodbye and walked inside.

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 19

Saturday morning, I awoke to Sandi’s ear-licking.  She never jumps up on my bed unless I oversleep.  I grabbed my iPhone from the night stand. 7:30 a.m.  I’m normally an early riser.  It’s a hold-over habit from my 35 years at the White House.  Then, I would be up reading by 4:30 a.m., usually a novel, then take a walk around 5:45.  At 6:30, I was back at my town-house for breakfast and a shower.  By 8:00 a.m. sharp, I was at my desk in the Eisenhower Building reviewing my latest pending transcript.

Sandi and I stayed in bed until 8:00.  I was lucky she could still jump up on the bed.  She was the fourth Golden Retriever I had had since Mom and Dad had bought me the original Sandy, a male, the day before I was to start junior high school.  Their action was a bribe, pure and simple.  I was refusing to go, arguing that I wanted to stay home.  I think I even told them I wanted to be home-schooled, which was a nonexistent term and possibility at the time, as far as I knew.  Vann Elkins, good old Vann, had, all during the previous summer, shared with me, the horrors of Boaz Junior High.  Gym class was the worst, “you had to walk naked, single-file, back and forth across the basketball court, six times, on the first day.  It was some sort of tradition.  He knew this because his older brother, Vernon, then a rising ninth grader, had told him.  My willingness to believe Vann’s stories and to refuse to step foot in Boaz Junior High, ended two days before ‘D’ Day when Dad came home with Sandy, only six weeks old.

It was like Sandy knew he had a job to do.  And, he did it well.  Seven years later I completed high school.  The afternoon after our graduation ceremony, I found Sandy dead in the hall of the barn.  An autopsy revealed that he had been poisoned.  This case was never solved, but I always believed it was an intentional act by a neighbor who had a reputation of hating dogs and cats and about everything else.  Other than my first year at the University of Virginia, I had never been without a Golden Retriever.  Based on my experience, I knew that around age nine or ten they begin to lose the strength, and ability, but not the desire, to jump.

After breakfast, Sandi and I took a walk around the pond and ended up at the backside of the barn.  I climbed up into a hay-less loft and found the two ladder-back chairs still leaning against the front wall, probably right where Regina and I had left them the last time we were here.  It was the night I told her I was engaged, I guess what Jennifer and I had agreed on (more her father’s conniving) was best termed an engagement.  I moved my chair, the darker colored one, over in front of the big double-doors, turned the simple but effective wooden latch, and pushed-open the door.

Sitting in my chair and gazing toward the back porch had always been my favorite spot for reminiscing and contemplating.  I had hoped to wake up this morning with Regina by my side.  Between the two of us I was the only one, as far as I know, who had contemplated such a fast-paced turn of events.  Ever since seeing Regina in her black dress on that Tuesday and not to mention our hug when I was about to leave.  What if she had not stopped me from putting my hand on her hip?  It wasn’t a surprise that she had.  But, that hadn’t stopped me from thinking about her for the past three days.  I had fantasized that after dinner Friday night we would retire to the den and listen to some of the old eight-track cassettes I still had, the ones we used to listen to nearly a half-century ago.  I could see her smile and hear her burst-out loud when I played Floyd Cramer.  But, then, we would start to dance.  And, unlike every time before, this time, she would allow me to undress her.

It had been a long time since I had felt a woman’s body lying next to mine.  Five years ago, I had succumbed to the mighty hand of temptation (a hang-over from my Bible and church days) and started an affair with a 35-year-old brunette recently hired in the White House’s communications department.  I met her in the Eisenhower Building’s cafeteria.  That day, it was extremely crowded.  A table opened as we both exited the check-out lane.  We looked at each other and didn’t say anything, both just shrugged our shoulders and walked over.  It was the first of many lunches over the next month.  Within a month we were dating, love-making, and seriously discussing her, Charlette, moving in with me since I had the bigger place.  She was tall and had the perfect figure, well, what most men would call the perfect figure.  Big, but not over-sized boobs, a nice derriere, what every Southern neck referred to as ‘ass.’  Everything seemed to go well until Tad Goldstein slithered up one day in the cafeteria and shared a table with Charlette and me.  Tad was one of my team-mates in the Stenographic Department and one, I always believed, played a tad of a role in getting me fired.  Less than a week later, Charlette told me, without words, that her and Tad were now a couple.  She had been the only naked body I had touched since Jennifer died in 1980.  

I had planned a romantic dinner after she accepted my invitation on Thursday.  But, thanks to Frankie Olinger, our plans were thwarted.  He had been arrested late Thursday afternoon and it would seem a stretch for this to have interfered with our Friday night plans.  If Olinger had been Regina’s father, that would have been different.  Regina called me at 4:30 yesterday afternoon just as I was getting serious in the kitchen.  She had said Belinda had called and asked her to go with her to Guntersville to visit Frankie.  Regina said Belinda was a basket-case.  I hated that term.  Aren’t we all?  However, I did respect Regina’s decision to support her sister.  They had a fragile relationship at best and hopefully being together last night tilted the positive side of the scale.

My mind stirred up a vision of what Regina would have looked like last night while we stood and listened to Floyd Cramer play Gentle on My Mind, when her black dress hit the floor.  Then, my iPhone vibrated.  I stood and pulled it out of my pocket.  It was Ginger Crumbly. I was glad I had entered her information into my Contacts.

“Hello.”

“Walt, this is Ginger from Rains & Associates.  Did I catch you at a bad time?”

I almost started to tell her it was perfect timing, since I was thinking about beautiful naked girls.  I decided differently. “No, not at all.”

“I know this is a little faster than I had thought, but I have you an assignment.  Can you be in Huntsville Monday morning?”

“Sure, I guess.  You’re right, this is more sudden than I thought it would be.”

“Attorney Kyle Daniel of Huntsville is taking the deposition of the defendant in a civil assault and battery case.  Be at the law offices of Maynard Cooper & Gale at 9:00 a.m.  I’ll email you the address and the relevant details. “

“Is that the same Maynard Cooper that you are neighbors with in

Birmingham?”

“It is.  We get a lot of work from them.  They also have an office in Huntsville.  Hey, I got to run.  Bailey, you know.  Let me know if you have any questions.  I check my email every few hours on the weekend.” “Tell Bailey, Sandi says hello.  She’s my Golden Retriever.” “I will, thanks.”

I sat back down wishing Regina were here to talk.  I needed a mind other than my own to convince me I had made a right decision taking the Rains’ part-time job.  I was nearly nauseous as I climbed down the wooden ladder from the loft and walked to the back porch.

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 18

The FBI’s ballistic analysis and that of the Alabama Department of Forensic Sciences concluded that the bullet that killed U.S.

Representative Kip Brewer was fired from a Springfield 30-06 rifle.  The empty cartridge contained finger prints that matched those of Frankie Olinger.

On February 28^th, a search warrant was signed by Judge Tyler

Broadside, Circuit Judge of Marshall County.  The warrant was executed at 9:30 p.m. while Frankie, Belinda, and Regina were eating a late supper. A matching rifle, with a high-powered scope, was found in the gun case in the basement.  A pair of muddy hunting boots were also photographed and removed from a closet beside the basement’s bathroom.  Shortly before 10:45 p.m., Frankie was taken into custody and transported to the Marshall County Jail in Guntersville.

By 11:30, Detective Darden Clarke and FBI special agent Cory Stiller were sitting with Olinger in Interrogation Room Four. 

Clarke: “Mr. Olinger, you have been arrested for the murder of U.S. Representative Kip Brewer.  I need to go over your Constitutional rights.”

Frankie: “I know my rights.  I’m ready to talk.  I have nothing to hide.”

Cory: “Mr. Olinger, to protect all of us, you and us, we have to follow procedure.”

Clarke: “First, I’m going to read you your rights, then, I’ll ask you to read them, and see if you have any questions.”

Clarke motioned for Cory to read.  When he was finished,

Frankie said, “hand it over here.”  He glanced at the document, asked for a pen, signed his name, slide the single sheet back over to Clarke, and asked, “what do you want to know?”

“Where were you on the night of Thursday, February 1st, between 2:30 and 3:00 a.m.?”

“Home.  In bed with my wife.”  Frankie said sitting straight in his gray metal chair.

“Mr. Olinger, let’s not waste your time or ours.  We have your fingerprints on a shell casing that was found at the edge of the woods where the Brewer’s killer fired a 30-06 Springfield rifle.  We strongly suspect the 30-06 rifle we seized tonight from your house is going to match the bullet we recovered from the cedar siding on Brewer’s back porch.”  Cory said, sitting on the edge of the table.

“I know it looks bad for me.  I’m trying to figure out how I killed good Mr. Brewer.  Unless I was a magic ghost or something similar, I couldn’t have done it.  I was at home asleep.  But, when I heard he had been shot, I knew you guys would come for me.  Since I argued with him at the Bevill Center.”

“You didn’t like Mr. Brewer, did you Frankie?”  Clarke said, sitting directly across from Olinger.

“No, I hated the man.  He’s a turncoat, won’t support Kane, the best President we’ve had since Reagan, maybe better.”

“During the Town Hall meeting just a few hours before Brewer was killed, you declared him an enemy and promised he would be killed?  Am I correct?”  Cory said standing up and walking to the other side of the table to sit again crowding into Olinger’s space.

“Not sure I promised him anything.  Did say in a war people get killed.  Hate it for the man’s family but he should have done the right thing.  Be a real Republican or get the hell out of the Party.”  Frankie said attempting to stand but pushed back down by Cory.

“Mr. Olinger, let me ask you something.  How could your fingerprints be on the empty cartridge we found at the murder scene?”  Clarke asked.

“Not my problem.  I didn’t have anything to do with his killing.”

“Seems to me it is your problem.  You do realize you have been arrested for Mr. Brewer’s murder?”  Cory asked.

“Could be somebody borrowed my gun.  You ever think of that?”  Olinger said sneering up at Agent Cory.

Clarke walked over to the intercom on the wall and asked the deputies to come carry Frankie to a cell. 

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 17

It was only the first day of March, but it felt like mid-summer.  Eighty-four degrees at 11:30 a.m., when it was supposed to be, at most, slightly above freezing, pointed my mind towards the issue of climate change.  Now, however, wasn’t the time to mind-muddle that earthrocking question.

I had been surprised last night when Ginger Crumbley called.  Not only because she called, but because she called so late.  I didn’t lie to her when I told her that I had planned on calling her today.  After I answered, she introduced herself but spent a minute or so elevating the extraordinary Regina to Queen status.  I verbally nodded toward every compliment.  When she tired of that she told her mooch, Bailey I think she called him, that she would walk him in five minutes if he would go fetch his collar.  I think Ginger was testing me, seeing if I could listen.  I was glad she didn’t demand a transcript.  Finally, she let me agree to come today at 1:00 for an interview, saying, “this is just a formality.  You have the job if you want it.  I’ve checked you out.  Pretty good credentials.”  A little snickering on her part and she was out the door with Bailey.

As I turned off Highway 431 onto 77, I tried to remember when the last time I was in Birmingham.  Surely, I had been since Jennifer and I attended the Auburn vs. Alabama football game at Legion Field two days after Thanksgiving in 1971.  I still remember the score: Auburn 7, Alabama 31.  Jennifer’s father, a big donor with the Alabama Crimson Tide, had given the tickets to us as another incentive for me to marry her.  Of course, that’s not exactly how it was presented, but now, nearly a half a century later, that’s clearly what it was.  Back then, I didn’t care what Franklin Ericson’s motivations were.  I wanted to see Pat Sullivan and Freddie Beasley rip the Tide’s defense to shreds.  I knew in my heart this was going to happen.  I was wrong in the worst way.  Sullivan didn’t throw a single touchdown pass.  As super wonderful as he was, I believe Auburn’s only score was a halfback pass from Harry Unger to Dick

Schmalz.  Forget Auburn.  I was now self-classified as an avid fan of Nick Saban and the Tide, even though I had never, as a fan, attended a game.

I continued to look-back over the past half-century.  My failed marriage to Jennifer, including our inability to have children.  My love for and desire to teach.  How fate or something had so arranged the stars that led me to a 35-year career at the White House.  How I deplored President Andrew Kane.  I almost got nauseous even using the words President and Kane in the same sentence. 

I arrived at 12:25 p.m. within a stone’s throw of Harbert Plaza, The Regions-Harbert Plaza sign said, but it took me nearly fifteen minutes to find a suitable parking spot.  I finally found one in Deck 3 on North 20th.  I nearly jogged back to the Plaza and was sweating by the time I stepped onto the elevator.  The 28th floor was home to some big names: the law firm of Maynard Cooper & Gale; the accounting firm Ernst & Young, and insurance company Northwestern Mutual.  It was also the home base for Rains & Associates Court-Reporting.

Ginger was waiting on me in the small waiting room.  “I just returned from lunch.  I’m Ginger.”

“I’m Walt.  How’s Bailey?”  I’ve never been very good at chitchat.

I followed her back to a corner office where a tall and slender man was standing looking out at the Birmingham skyline.

“Walt, this is Zel Peterson.  He’s my boss.  He happened to be in town and wanted to meet you.”

“Hello.” I said as we both walked towards each other and shook hands.  “I’m Walt Shepherd.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you Walt.  Ginger has briefed me on your background.  I sure hope you will come on board with us here at Rains.  We are getting a little desperate and will take about anybody with a steno degree.  Just kidding.”  Zel said pulling out a chair and motioning for me to sit.

Ginger continued to stand across from the large oak conference room table I suspected was a true antique.  She too was tall, probably six feet in the spike heels I had noted walking behind her.  I had also noticed a robust rear that reminded me of Regina’s, but I needed to focus.  Ginger, a curly red-head, was a looker.  “Walt, could I get you something to drink, coffee, a coke, water?”

“Water would be nice.  This heat and the walk over from Deck

3 has me perspiring a little.”

“Walt, may I call you Walt?” Zel said.

“Of course.”

“I’m going to leave you and Ginger when she returns.  Before I go, may I ask you a question, the type ladies and gentlemen shouldn’t talk about until they’ve known each other for a few decades?”  Zel said, now back on his feet and walking towards the floor-to-ceiling windows in the corner.

“I suppose you can ask me anything.  I’ll let you know if I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“What is your gut feeling about President Kane and what’s on the horizon?”

“You asked.  I’ll answer.  I deplore the man.  There is no doubt in my mind he is the worst President we have ever had, at least in my lifetime.  He is not in the same league with anyone else.  I could accept the man if he were honest.  I could even overlook his crudeness, to a degree.  Simply put, I don’t trust the man.”  I stopped there hoping Zel wouldn’t press me on his second question.

“Thanks for your honest opinion.”  Zel said taking a bottle of water from Ginger as she walked in. “What’s your thoughts on where we, as a Nation, are headed?”

“Funny you ask this.  Ever since the first indication that a large enough swath of American citizens was leaning favorably towards him, I have been thinking of writing a book.  That desire has ridden the waves of my mind like a roller-coaster.  But, after getting canned by the White House and moving back home to Boaz and seeing firsthand how vehemently attached his followers are to him, I’m reinvigorated about my book.”  I said uncharacteristic for me.  I normally don’t spew out such a long response when asked a question.

“You didn’t say it specifically, but I read your response to mean that you don’t look favorably on the next three to seven years?” Zel asked as Ginger finally pulled out a chair and sat down.

“You’re correct.”

“Okay. Walt.  I very much appreciate you answering my questions.  It was very nice meeting you.  I’ll leave you two alone to get down to business.”  Zel said shaking my hand again as I stood up.

After he was gone, Ginger didn’t say anything for an uncomfortable moment or two.  She just stared at me.  Her eyes looked redder than brown.  It might have been the sunshine from the windows.

“I can see why Regina likes you so much.  You are polished, nice looking, and have a pleasant but professional voice.”  She finally said.

“I’m happy to hear that Regina has conveyed to you that she likes me.”

“You have a sense of humor also.  Perfect.  Now to business.  If you want the job, you have it.  The pay is $200.00 per assignment plus twenty-five dollars per hour including travel, double time for work past five p.m.  We also pay $1.25 per mile for all your travel from the time you leave your home until you return from a job.” 

“I’ve always loved efficiency, right to the point.”

“There’s that humor again.”

“Please tell me what type jobs I would have and my travel zone?”  I said, a little encouraged by the pay scale.

“As you might expect, attorneys are our main client.  Mostly civil attorneys.  You would primarily be working depositions.  One day it could be an auto-accident case.  The next day a medical malpractice case.  Again, depositions.  But, this isn’t the only thing.  We have the contract with the Alabama Administrative Office of Courts.  If a Judge needs a court-reporter, we fill the need.  Just yesterday, Judge Kimberly, in Tuscaloosa County, lost his regular court-reporter to a car wreck.  She wasn’t killed but she did break a leg and two ribs.  She’ll be out for at least six weeks.  Tara Sledge, our stenographer, accepted that assignment.  This doesn’t happen often, at least to this extent or duration.  Normally, if we receive a call from the AAO, it’s just for a reporter to fill in for a day or two, maybe a week.”  Ginger said looking through her day planner.

“I’m very interested, but I have to disclose I have another part-time job.”

“Teaching at Snead State Community College.  You took Stella

Gillman’s place.  I hear she loves Wake Forest.”

“Okay, I’m impressed.  You know a lot about me.”

Ginger looked up and smiled at me.  “If only you knew the half

of it.”

“I really don’t want my work with Rains to interfere with my night schedule at Snead.  I’ve really wanted to get back into teaching and sure don’t want to screw this up.”

“You haven’t taught since 1982 at Prince George’s Community

College in Largo, Maryland.”

“Correct.  Do you also know about my personal vices?”  I said trying to be funny and serious at the same time.

“No, Regina hasn’t been that personal with me.”

“Damn, I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Seriously Walt, what are you thinking?  Can you commit to us? 

I promise we will protect your time for your teaching.” 

“How much time do I have to give you a decision?”  I said.

“Fifteen minutes.”  Ginger was not joking.  It was her first serious face since I’d arrived.

“I really wasn’t wanting that much time.  That makes it much harder.  Seriously Ginger, I accept your offer, but with one condition.”  I said.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t want to work every day.  Maybe a day or two a week.  If you are desperate, three days would be my max.  I do want to enjoy my retirement a little.”

“I can appreciate that.  I agree to your condition.”  Ginger said looking back down at her planner.  “If you don’t mind, I’ll send in my assistant with the employment forms you need to sign.  She’ll also equip you.  I’ll call you with your first assignment.  It’ll probably be a few days. 

Thanks Walt and it was very nice meeting you.” 

We both stood, shook hands again, and she was gone.

Rita, the assistant, came in a few minutes later.  I completed tax withholding forms and a few other standard forms.  I was a little surprised not to be presented with any type confidentiality agreement.  I guess that’s just assumed.  I followed Rita to a large storage room off her office.  She told me to choose my steno machine and my choice of briefcase.

During my drive back to Boaz I didn’t think of the past hardly at all.  I was focused on the future.  I also dwelt on cooking a nice dinner for Regina.

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 16

My first class at Snead State Community College was Monday night February the 11th, three days before Valentine’s day.  Ever since Dean Naylor had contacted me shortly after I moved back to Boaz I couldn’t understand why Stella Gillman’s transfer to Wake Forest hadn’t been better planned.  Why hadn’t she moved during the Christmas holidays?  Why wait until nearly six weeks of the new semester had passed?

It didn’t take long for me to find out.  I arrived an hour before class was to begin. I was straightening the twenty or so desks when Dean Naylor walked in.  The classroom was almost directly across from his office.

“Good evening Walt”

“Hello, Dean Naylor.” I said walking over to shake his hand.

“I figured you for an early bird.  Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Sure.” I said. He sat down in a student’s desk right in front of my over-sized oak desk and motioned for me to sit in my teacher’s chair.

“I thought I would give you a little more insight into your students.  I know you’ve reviewed each of their work products from the files Stella left.”

“Before you go on would you mind answering a question?”  I asked.

“Not at all.  At least I’ll try.”

“Why didn’t Stella transfer during Christmas, at the end of a semester?  I assume this would have been a better transition for both Snead and Wake Forest?”

“In a perfect world, you are correct.  Stella’s job opportunity at a major college wasn’t the primary factor that precipitated her move.  I think it was New Year’s Day, may have been either a day before or after, her father took a turn for the worse.  I think I mentioned to you that he has terminal cancer.  Stella hadn’t been back from her holiday visit a week when she received the call from her mother stating her father had contracted pneumonia and was in the hospital.  Stella returned to Winston-Salem the next day.  After she arrived and assessed the situation, she called me and said she would be back soon but could miss at least a week.”

“I’m jumping ahead, but how on earth did she snag the Wake Forest job?”  I asked.

“I was just about to get to that.”

“Sorry.”

“No problem.  It was a miracle of sorts.  If you believe in miracles.  Personally, I don’t but that’s another story.  It seems the Dean of Wake Forest, Michele Gillespie, is a caring and compassionate woman.  She volunteers at Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center on the weekends in their chaplaincy program.  Ms. Gillespie dropped by Mr. Gillman’s hospital room.  By the way, Stella has never married.  At some point during the visit, Ms. Gillespie mentioned the college.  When she was leaving, Stella’s mother stated that Stella was a stenographer professor. 

I’ll let you figure out the rest.”

“That doesn’t seem to explain why Stella was still here teaching last Thursday.”

“Gosh, you’re right.  I almost forgot why I came here.”  Dean Naylor said opening the notebook he had brought with him.

“Please give this to Valentina Garza.” He said handing me an official-looking certificate.  “She already has the large framed version.  It was given to her at the ceremony held last week in the auditorium.  I’m speaking of the Alabama Community College Stenographic Competition.  Ms. Garza, your student, is the winner of this State-wide award.  Stella stayed to coach Valentina through the competition.”

“That’s classic hallmark.  Stella and Ms. Garza must have been especially close.”  I said.

“Yes and no.  It didn’t really matter if they had a close relationship or not.  This exemplifies true Stella.  But, they were in fact close.  Last year, Valentina lost her best friend, a cousin, Esmeralda

Andres.”

“What happened?”  I asked.

“I’m a little surprised you haven’t heard.  Esmeralda was abducted and sold.  Apparently, it was sex trafficking.  A few days after she went missing, it was learned that she was in Stockholm, Sweden and had died in a tragic fall from a bridge.  This devastated Valentina.  Stella loved and counseled Valentina, enabling her to win the State stenography championship.”  Naylor said.

“I can now make more sense of why Stella stayed.  I’m sure it was tough on her to be away from her father.  She must be a woman of deep character.”

“She is.  We hated to lose her.  Walt, you have some mighty big shoes to fill.  I see we are running out of time.  I wanted to talk with you about each of your students.  They will be here shortly, most of them come early.  But, in the few minutes we have left me tell you about Felicia Shea.”

“Okay.”

“She is Belinda Olinger’s granddaughter.  Her step grandfather is

Frankie Olinger.  Surely, you have heard of him.  He and his twin brother

Freddie own Sand Mountain Tire and Muffler.”

“I know Frankie much better than I want to.  He and I were at Boaz High School together.  Did you say he had a twin brother?  I don’t remember that.”

“I’ve heard Freddie failed a year, maybe eighth grade, so they were not in the same class.”  Naylor said.

“Now, I remember.  Strange that memory was so deep.”

“Quite frankly, pardon the partial pun, it wouldn’t be too bad if both twins were forgotten, but please don’t repeat me on that.”

“I won’t.”

“Back to Felicia.  She is also a rising star.  She came in third in the competition.  She’s very bright, was the Valedictorian at Boaz High School, graduating, I believe, in 2014.  She started here in the Fall of 2016.  After high school, she spent a couple of years in mission’s work, traveling all over the country.  Here’s the reason I wanted to talk with you.  I’m afraid she is too devoted to Frankie.  What I really mean is she is too devoted to his political philosophy.”

“What’s that, even though I think I know.”  I said.

“One word, Kane.  Enough said.” 

“Another word I wished we could forget.”  I added.

“Right.  So, mix Christian Fundamentalism with Kanism and you can only imagine what you get.  To her credit, Felicia seems extremely capable of compartmentalizing her life.  But, Felicia needs a Stella in her life, if you know what I mean.  Someone who will be brutally honest with her, while, at the same time, showing her genuine

compassion and understanding.”

“She must be doing something right to win third place and to be in her fourth stenography class.”  I said.

“Like I said, she is extremely bright.  I think you will see she is a natural.  I believe the only reason she didn’t win the championship had something to do with Frankie.  I’ve heard some rumors, but I’ll leave it to that.”

“Hello Dean Naylor.” Two students said almost simultaneously as they walked into the room.”

“Good evening Amanda and Michael.”  Dean Naylor said standing up, shaking Michael’s hand and hugging Amanda.

“Walt, this is Michael Kendrick and Amanda Hartley, two students with brilliant futures.”  Naylor turned back to me and said, “And this is Walt Shepherd, your new instructor.  He too is brilliant.”

The two students smiled and shook my hand and said they were glad to meet me.  I replied with a similar greeting.

“Now, I must go. Amanda and Michael, you are in good and competent hands.  I believe you two and your other four classmates, have been gifted a once-in-life opportunity.  Don’t squander it.”  Dean Naylor said as he was backing up toward the door.

I waved my hand at him as though I was saying, ‘the BS is getting deep in here. Go.’

He nearly backed into four other students as they turned into the doorway from the hall.

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 15

After Mother’s funeral I kept driving.  I wasn’t ready to go home and be alone.  After nearly an hour of circling back and forth across Boaz, not sure why I didn’t opt for country-driving, I turned on Industrial Blvd., and headed to The Reporter.

Claire was standing beside the receptionist when I walked in.  Sweet and homely Claire led me back to a sometimes sweet and always beautiful Regina.  She was frowning when she looked up and saw my face.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I will never forgive myself.  I absolutely forgot your Mother’s funeral.  How could I do that?”  Regina said coming over and wrapping me in her arms.

“Don’t fret.  Forgetfulness pursues age, and honey you are aging fast.”

“You seem jolly for a man who just buried the most important woman in his life.  Ever.”

“Dear, do you mind if we change the subject.  I’ve spent the past several hours around folks who believe my mother is now walking streets of gold in the high and holy Heaven.”

“Okay, let’s sit.”  Regina said peeking my cheek and pulling me over to her round table in the back corner of her office. Do you mind if I run something by you?”

“Always and forever, I am listening to your every word.”  I said feeling romantic for some strange reason.

“You recall me describing my phone call with big sister a while back.  I think mine and her heated conversation was the Tuesday morning after Kip Brewer was shot.”

“I remember you two had a pretty rough scrape.”

“That conversation boiled up in my mind a couple of nights ago when I was tossing and turning, half-awake, and half-asleep.  I’ll call it a dream of sorts.  And, get this.  You kept appearing, you and your steno machine.  Is that funny or what?”  Regina said straightening her a-little too-tight black dress.

“Not at all.  I was there to record, exactly record, you’re every word.  Truly, I brought my magic machine that, once I’m properly wired, enables me to hear your thoughts.  I was there to make sure today you have full awareness of the exact words you used to describe my aging, but manly physique.”

“What are you smoking Walt Shepherd?”

“Back to your dream, before you forget.”  I said, entranced, as always, by her blue eyes.

“Here’s my idea.  The Boaz Stenographer, every week, on Saturday, in The Reporter.”  She said, scanning a page in an-unfolded magazine, probably The New Yorker.

“That makes perfect sense.”

“I want to have a weekly column written by a different person every week.  It will be, hopefully, from a cross-section of the Boaz community.  Think with me here.  Belinda got upset with me for reporting what happened at the Town Hall meeting at the Bevill Center.  I only reported the facts.  Earlier, when I first moved back home, she and I had had a very direct conversation about my role here at The Reporter.  I carefully described my duty to report the news, even if it stepped on toes.  Any reasonable person could understand my words.”

“I’m not sure I’m exactly following you.”  I said sitting up straighter in my chair.

“Spoken words are more easily forgotten than written words, for obvious reasons.  Your job as a stenographer is to accurately record what you hear.  Correct?”

“Correct.”  I said mimicking recording ‘correct’ on a steno machine.

“Oh, Walt, don’t be cute.  Seriously, let’s talk specifics.  What if The Reporter had a standing invitation, one printed in all three weekly editions, to the Boaz community, to listen for a sentence, or two, maybe three, you know, a statement, from someone, either in person or on TV, Radio, YouTube, etc.  Something of importance.  Now to an example. 

One night you are watching Fox News.”

I couldn’t resist so I interrupted Regina, “oh dear, give me a break.”

“Shut-up and listen.  I thought you were an expert listener.”

“I am.  Go on.”

“Okay, you’re watching Fox News and you see a clip of an interview or a speech by President Kane.  You hear him make a statement, let’s say he said, ‘I know more about ISIS than all my Generals,’ or some stupid shit like that.  You make note of the exact statement.  Before the newspaper’s deadline for the week, you write out whatever you want about the statement, hopefully there are a few folks around here that will have something to say about such a dastardly statement than, ‘Kane is brilliant.’  Once you’ve drafted, say, a 300-word piece, you email that to The Reporter.  We will review all submissions and choose one.

“I love your idea.  Can I tell you why?”

“Well, of course, doofus.”

“For one, it starts a conversation.  It also, assuming you guys here at The Reporter select diversely, creates a conversation of multiple thoughts and opinions.  In sum, The Boaz Stenographer will report, accurately with great hope, relevant news.  But, let me warn you.”  I said.

“Okay, I’m listening, I’ll even record you.”  Regina said picking up a pencil and reaching for a yellow pad from the middle of the table.

“If the weekly editorial is remotely controversial, and I cannot see why The Reporter would choose anything else, you, The Reporter, will create a tsunami response. How do you plan on handling that?”  I asked.

“I see what you are saying.  Do you think we need to create, your word, a vehicle allowing folks to react?  Facebook and their commenting method comes to mind.”

“Seems to me that the community’s response, better put, knowing the community’s response, would be helpful to The Reporter.  Otherwise, you will only know what the fringe things, the ones who will call in and leave you dirty messages, that type thing.”

“I agree, now that you say it, we need the ability to capture the response to the weekly edition of The Boaz Stenographer.  I’ll talk with our tech department to determine whether it best to use the newspaper’s Facebook Page, or our website.

“Another thing, if you are still listening and still interested in my thoughts.” I said.

“Ready my man, thought you were just all talk and no action.”

“How about we save that conversation to tonight.  Yes, that’s a date invite.” I said.

“Probably, Tuesday nights are not so bad.  I can be free by seven. 

That okay?”

“Perfect.  I’m cooking your dinner.  Come straight to Shepherd’s Cove and wear that dress.”  I said smiling oh so slightly at the gorgeous Regina.

“Back to business.  Did you have another thought concerning

The Boaz Stenographer?”

“Yes, I’m thinking the newspaper’s editor, might want to print her own opinion on the matter.  Why not write it the following Tuesday, assuming the Stenographer’s piece was printed on Saturday.”

“I like that.  I also recall, from my dream, the true meaning of The Boaz Stenographer.  Each person, everyone who writes in, will be a stenographer.  Because they are supposed to be accurately recording what they heard.”  Regina said.

“Well duh.  I got that a while ago.  Sorry about that.  Seriously, I love your idea.  But, I have one request.”

“Here we go.  Walt always wants something.”

“Will I have an equal chance of being published?”

“Absolutely.  That assumes, you have something relevant to report.  Now, get out of here.  I have a powerful mouthpiece to run.”  Regina said reaching over and squeezing my right hand.

We both stood and enjoyed, well, I did at least, a long hug and embrace.  When I barely slide my hand down onto her right hip, she pushed me away.

“You’re about to start something you can’t finish old boy.  Now leave.”

I walked out smiling.