The primary aim of the "Novel Excerpts" blog category is to showcase my creative writing, specifically from the novels I've written. Hopefully, these posts will provide a glimpse into my storytelling style, themes, and narrative skills. It's an opportunity to share my artistic expressions and the worlds I've created through my novels.

The Boaz Secrets, written in 2018, is my third novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.

Book Blurb

Fifteen year-old Matt Benson moves with Robert, his widowed father, to Boaz, Alabama for one year as Robert conducts research on Southern Baptist Fundamentalism.  Robert, a professor of Bible History and new Testament Theology at the University of Chicago’s Divinity School enlists Matt to assist him as an undercover agent at First Baptist Church of Christ.  Matt’s job is to befriend the most active young person in the Church’s youth group and learn the heart and mind of teenagers growing up as fundamentalist Southern Baptists.

Olivia Tillman is the fourteen year old daughter of Betty and Walter Tillman.  He is the pastor of First Baptist Church of Christ.  Robert and Matt move to Boaz in June 1970, and before high school begins in mid-August, Matt and Olivia become fast friends.   Olivia’s life is centered around her faith, her family, and her friends.  She is struck with Matt and his doubts and vows to win him to Christ.  Over the next year, Matt and Olivia’s relationship blossoms into more than a teenage romance, despite their different religious beliefs. 

June 1971 and Matt’s return to Chicago comes too quickly, but the two teenagers vow to never lose what they have, even promising to reunite at college in three years after Olivia graduates from Boaz High School.

The Boaz Secrets is told from the perspective of past and present.  The story alternates between 1970-1971, and 2017-2018.  After Matt left Boaz in June 1971, life happened and Olivia and Matt’s plans fell apart.  However, in December 2017, their lives crossed again, almost miraculously, and they have a month in Boaz to catch up on forty-six years of being apart.  They attempt to discover whether their teenage love can be rekindled and transformed into an adult romance even though Matt is 63 and Olivia is 61.

In 2017, Olivia and Matt are quick to learn they are vastly different people than they were as fifteen and sixteen year old teenagers– especially, when it comes to religion and faith.  Will these religious differences unite them?  The real issue is the secret Olivia has kept.  Will Matt’s discovery destroy any chance he and Olivia have of rekindling their teenage relationship?

Chapter 18

December 17, 2017

The walk home from Warren and Tiffany’s had the opposite effect than my earlier walk to their house.  I was almost sweating as I reached my front porch and unlocked the door.  No doubt in my mind, Rickie’s words, “Rumor was she was pregnant by John Ericson,” had pierced my mind and heart like a flaming arrow.

I didn’t sleep at all.  For hours I tossed and turned on my sleeping bag.  I finally got up at 3:30 a.m., made a pot of coffee, and sat in my ‘Alabama’ beanbag chair.  My mind was spewing out every imaginable what-if scenario it could, even attempting to go rouge on me offering up little tips on how to find the truth.  ‘Sit in the Alabama Crimson Tide chair.  It knows the truth, it knows because John spent four years at the University of Alabama.’  It was crazy stupid.  By sunrise I had solid proof that hearing an unexpected statement could throw one’s seemingly organized, structured, and predictable life, into a tailspin.  One, almost like falling out of an airplane without a parachute.

By 8:30 a.m., I had drunk more coffee than any one person should consume.  I think it helped to counter the illogical leaps my mind was experiencing and offered some direction.  It may not have been the coffee at all. 

John, Paul, and I had exchanged cell phone numbers before we all went our separate ways outside the Cracker Barrel in Trussville.  The two of them had even invited Olivia and me to come join them for a few days as they hiked the Appalachian Trail.  Olivia had quickly declined saying that she was too afraid of bears and snakes.  She didn’t care if it was winter.  I had indicated to John and Paul some interest in spending at least one day and night with them out on the trail.

John answered on the second ring.  Even though it was almost 10:00 a.m. in Georgia, they were not yet hiking.  John laughed saying that he and Paul were not as tough as they used to be.  In fact, yesterday afternoon they had left the main trail and hiked into Ellijay and found a Bed and Breakfast.  Within five minutes I had spoken to both John and Paul and had arranged to meet them, where they were, in four hours.  Google Maps said that it was less than a three-hour drive, but I wanted to allow myself plenty of time.

I had called Olivia before I left Boaz.  I told her about my spur of the moment decision.  At first, I started to tell her a little fib about what I was doing or where I was going, just to not raise the possibility of her becoming suspicious, but I realized that it was more than possible for her to be talking with her two boys.  Anyway, she knew John, Paul, and I had discussed the possibilities of me joining them for a day or so.  As I drove for nearly three hours I attempted to plan my every move.  Of course, I wanted to spend quality time with my boys.  I still clung to Olivia’s story.  What reason would she have to lie to me?  If I was not the father, why would she tell me I was?  Maybe she didn’t know.  Maybe she thought I was the father.  She could think this even if her and John had had sex themselves.  I simply couldn’t wrap my head around the notion of her and John being intimate.  It didn’t fit at all.  I had almost a perfect memory of Olivia when we were teenagers, her in the ninth grade and me in the eleventh.  I was certain she would not have been having sex with John.  Anyone.  Then, it dawned on me.  What if I was wrong?  What if her and John had had this dirty little secret?  They were sexually active.  And, what if they had safe sex?  I hated that phrase.  Meaning, John always used a condom.  And, I hadn’t.  The night before Dad and I had left for Chicago, Olivia and I had had unprotected sex.  The situation had surprised us both.  Not the being alone, but our feelings knowing we would likely not see each other for months and months, possibly up to three years.  Our emotions had taken over and, I remembered Olivia’s words in response to my concern that “I don’t have a, you know what.”  It was the most awkward statement I had ever made.  She had said, “Matt, I know this is wrong, but I also know it is right.  We are already one in spirit.  I want to make us one in body.”  It had surprised me.  It hadn’t sounded like the Olivia I had known for nearly a year.  As I neared Ellijay I concluded that someway Olivia knew beyond all doubt that John and Paul were our children.  I was their father.  Ericson wasn’t.  As I parked and walked toward the front porch of The Martyn House Bed and Breakfast, I knew that my love for Olivia would have no trouble forgiving her even if she had sex with John Ericson.

John and Paul were, as agreed, waiting for me in the great room.  The Inn was a huge log cabin structure with probably the biggest fireplace I had ever seen.  It was massive.  It’s rock face stretched the entire width of the far wall.  John and Paul were sitting at a table next to a row of floor-to-ceiling windows along the rear of the lodge.  They saw me as I stood looking at the fireplace and walked over.  We exchanged our man-hugs and they invited me to join them.  They asked about Olivia and relayed their disappointment that she hadn’t come.  “Please know it’s not anything personal.  If anything, it was my fault.  I didn’t really give her a chance.  If she had known that hiking wasn’t on the agenda she would have killed me to come.”

The three of us spent thirty or so minutes updating each other on our careers.  John seemed especially interested in my genetics research.  Paul sit silent as John and I talked about how uncanny it was that Charles Darwin’s theory was proven correct even though he had no knowledge at all about genetics.  Paul finally interrupted his brother and said, “even if Mr. Darwin’s theory was correct, although I totally doubt that it was, it changes nothing.  God created Adam and Eve just as Genesis says.  That’s where humans began.  Please don’t tell me that I came from an ape.”

I was anticipating a big row between John and Paul.  I had read quite a bit on Lee Berger’s discovery in the Rising Star cave in South Africa sometime in 2014.  The many bones found deep in the cave shared similar characteristics with both humans and apes.  John had said enough about his work with Berger when Olivia and I had met him and Paul in Birmingham.  I knew John had played some role in Berger’s bone recovery project.  The man, ape, man/ape had been dubbed, Naledi.  I was surprised when Paul smiled at John and said, “Matt, don’t worry that John and I will kill each other.  We have a unique relationship.  We can argue till the sun goes down or it falls out of the sky, but we won’t get angry and we won’t love each other any less.  We both know we will never change each other’s minds, but we still try nonetheless.  We just like to argue.  He makes stuff up and I simply stick to the facts.”

John couldn’t resist.  “Paul is the typical Bible thumper, the typical Christian fundamentalist.  He has read only one book, the Bible, and thinks it holds all the information he will ever need.  He is a spitting image of an AD 90 desert peasant.”

I didn’t know what to say but I knew I had to say something.  “I think it is wonderful that you two are so close and can agree to disagree.  Let me go ahead and confess that I don’t believe in God and that I fully believe in the truth of Darwin’s work, evolution by natural selection.  It’s the best theory ever offered for how life emerged and has continued to change over millions of years.”

“You and your son John may think you can gang up on me but I have God on my side.”  Paul said.  Seriously, but then burst into a laugh.

“Brother, how many times do I have to tell you that you didn’t come from an ape.  The truth is that humans and apes have a common ancestor.  It is a ridiculous argument for someone to say, “if I evolved from an ape, why are there still apes?”  John asked.

“The problem you never want to address is that all the fossil discoveries, what you and your peers consider to be evidence that humans have evolved from, for simplicities sake let me say, an ape-like creature, doesn’t truly address homo sapiens.  Those fossils deal with animals not humans.”  Paul said standing up and turning towards the tall windows behind him.

“Paul, your belief that God, in an instant, created Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden defies all logic and reason.  And, scientific fact.”

I decided to just listen.  I wanted to witness whether these two, my sons, could so clearly disagree but continue to respect and love each other.

“John, you have absolutely no proof that an ape-like creature turned into a human.”

“Actually, we do.  The fossil records prove this.”  John added.  I know you will never look openly and honestly at the facts, the evidence I speak of.  By the way, take the time to read up on Naledi.  What are you afraid of?  What you keep your head in the sand over is the huge problem you would have to recognize that there never was an Adam and an Eve.  What you know, even though, again, you will never admit it, is the absence of an Adam and Eve destroys Christianity.  If they didn’t exist, there was no ‘Fall’ as you call it.  If there was no ‘Fall,’ there was no need for Christ to come and save mankind.  Paul, my dear brother, your Bible, its credibility, now rests on the tip of a pinhead.  Science has filled gap after gap, the holes you and your peers have tried to use in arguing the believability of your one and only book.  Here’s something for you.  I admit, your good book is holy.  It is wholly, that’s with a w, wholly man made.”

Paul turned and looked back at John and me.  “The Word says, ‘in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.’”  He then stopped.  I could tell he wanted his and John’s conversation to continue.  I suspect Paul had a belly-full to lay out, here, something akin to a sermon.  However, he put all that aside to say, “John, you and I can continue this discussion after Matt leaves tomorrow.”

But, John acted as though he didn’t hear Paul and kept going drilling further and further.  It was getting old.

For the next fifteen minutes I listened as John and Paul went back and forth, almost like a football game.  John on offense, Paul defending.  Then the ball changed hands.

Finally, John said, it’s nearly 6:00, let’s go to the dining room.  They’re having Buffalo T-Bone steaks.”

“I’m ready to share a meal with my two boys.”  I said, glad that the two hadn’t come to blows.

John looked at me.  “I want to hear why you and Olivia never got together.”

We three did enjoy a great meal.  The Buffalo steaks were perfect, having been cooked over a wood fire.  I savored every moment with my two boys.  Over an hour passed with John and Paul appearing to savor every word I shared about my love for Olivia and how she had terminated our relationship.  By the time we each finished a huge slice of coconut pie, in remembrance of our dear Olivia, we were stuffed.  

As we got up to leave the almost empty dining room, John and Paul turned away towards the entrance long enough for me to use each of their cloth napkins to grab the forks they had used during our meal.  After I reached my room, I removed them from my pants pockets and sealed them separately in two plastic zip-lock bags (I thought of them as a policeman’s evidence bag) that I had retrieved from my suitcase in Boaz.  In two days, my lab at the University of Chicago would be conducting DNA analysis. 

The first step of my plan was unfolding.  I had to know whether I was the biological father of John and Paul Cummins.

The primary aim of the "Novel Excerpts" blog category is to showcase my creative writing, specifically from the novels I've written. Hopefully, these posts will provide a glimpse into my storytelling style, themes, and narrative skills. It's an opportunity to share my artistic expressions and the worlds I've created through my novels.

The Boaz Secrets, written in 2018, is my third novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.

Book Blurb

Fifteen year-old Matt Benson moves with Robert, his widowed father, to Boaz, Alabama for one year as Robert conducts research on Southern Baptist Fundamentalism.  Robert, a professor of Bible History and new Testament Theology at the University of Chicago’s Divinity School enlists Matt to assist him as an undercover agent at First Baptist Church of Christ.  Matt’s job is to befriend the most active young person in the Church’s youth group and learn the heart and mind of teenagers growing up as fundamentalist Southern Baptists.

Olivia Tillman is the fourteen year old daughter of Betty and Walter Tillman.  He is the pastor of First Baptist Church of Christ.  Robert and Matt move to Boaz in June 1970, and before high school begins in mid-August, Matt and Olivia become fast friends.   Olivia’s life is centered around her faith, her family, and her friends.  She is struck with Matt and his doubts and vows to win him to Christ.  Over the next year, Matt and Olivia’s relationship blossoms into more than a teenage romance, despite their different religious beliefs. 

June 1971 and Matt’s return to Chicago comes too quickly, but the two teenagers vow to never lose what they have, even promising to reunite at college in three years after Olivia graduates from Boaz High School.

The Boaz Secrets is told from the perspective of past and present.  The story alternates between 1970-1971, and 2017-2018.  After Matt left Boaz in June 1971, life happened and Olivia and Matt’s plans fell apart.  However, in December 2017, their lives crossed again, almost miraculously, and they have a month in Boaz to catch up on forty-six years of being apart.  They attempt to discover whether their teenage love can be rekindled and transformed into an adult romance even though Matt is 63 and Olivia is 61.

In 2017, Olivia and Matt are quick to learn they are vastly different people than they were as fifteen and sixteen year old teenagers– especially, when it comes to religion and faith.  Will these religious differences unite them?  The real issue is the secret Olivia has kept.  Will Matt’s discovery destroy any chance he and Olivia have of rekindling their teenage relationship?

Chapter 17

January 1971

Saturday afternoon I had escaped from the Lighthouse and Olivia’s attempt to learn about my response to Mr. Johnson’s Poetry assignment.  After she had asked me to tell her about my Who Made God? poem, Brother Randy had called out to her from the back of the room.  It was both a funny and weird moment.  I felt as though God Himself had rescued me with his booming voice from the Heavens.  The light rain that had begun when the Flaming Five had left didn’t hurt my cause, my need to flee.  As Olivia walked away, I told her I had to leave but I would call her tomorrow afternoon after church and she would learn who made God.

After returning home, I worked on my poem for over an hour before Dad and I made our weekly trip to the Dairy Queen.  It was becoming a tradition.  The trip, along with sour kraut and extra onions on a foot-long hot-dog, was becoming my weekend meal of choice.  By 10:30 a.m., right as the local TV news broadcast ended, my stomach revolted.  The rest of the night was spent alternating between trips to the bathroom and laying across my bed wishing I would die.  Dad said it was probably food-poisoning and would have to run its course.  That it did.  By sunrise, the rain had ended, and the evil bug had reached its destination.  I finally dosed off to sleep and would probably have slept until Monday morning if Dad had not awakened me when he returned from church.  It was a rare moment when I was nostalgic for Sunday School and preaching but as I got up and showered all I could think about was missing Olivia this morning, even though I rarely caught a glimpse of her on Sunday mornings.  I guess, it was just the knowing that she was near.  No matter if I never got to go out with her, I was realizing more and more how she was crawling inside every cell of my being.

Dad made me eat a small bowl of chicken soup that he had managed to prepare, and to drink some Coca Cola.  My stomach was much better.  I fought the urge to watch TV and slumber on the couch but instead retreated to my bedroom to continue drafting my “Who Made God?” poem.  I was torn.  I couldn’t wait to call Olivia, just to hear her voice.  But, I was extra reluctant today to speak to her about God.  I knew she would attempt to persuade me that God had always existed.  She would also try out her best evangelical tricks to persuade me that I needed to accept Jesus by faith.

I knew what I wanted to write but had trouble since starting the assignment.  Yesterday, I ditched my whole idea of trying to rhyme every other line.  I simply wasn’t ready for this more intense poetry method.  Mr. Johnson had said that a poem is what you say it is.  There are no rules.  I really liked that.  I really hated rules even though I was pretty good at following most all of Dad’s.  Instead of rhyming, I chose prose poetry.  And, I chose to let my dear departed Mother help me get going.  She was a devout Catholic and had told me about Thomas Aquinas, probably one of the most famous Catholics.  He was still well respected by the Pope and all his underlings.  Mother had told me about Aquinas’ five proofs for the existence of God.  She had trusted old Thomas nearly as much as she did God.  His first three proofs were all similar sounding to me.  They involve infinite regress.  This was a term I had just learned about.  Dad had been able to locate for me an article by a Harvard scholar that he liked and trusted.  The scholar had described infinite regress as a continual question arising the farther one goes back in time.  Aquinas had said that “nothing moves without a prior movement.”  He said something similar about cause and effect, “nothing is caused by itself, every effect has a prior cause.”  Whether something is moved or caused, it leads back and back in time to something that moved something or caused something.  Aquinas argued, with no real proof that I could ever gather, that God was the first mover or the first cause, something that got everything started.  To me, Aquinas argument was feigned.  I recalled how I had asked Mother how Aquinas knew this.  She had answered, “Faith.  He knew this by faith.”  To me, then and now, that was not a valid answer.  The only logical and true definition of faith was believing something without evidence, not because of evidence.

The first line of my poem read, “Faith made God, and man made faith.”  Aquinas also had argued that if we could go back in time far enough we would discover that there were no physical things in existence.  He argued that, again according to the scholar’s article, “since physical things exist now, there must have been something non-physical to bring them into existence, and that something is what we call God.”  As I was contemplating how to create a visual of what Aquinas believed, here what was referred to as his Cosmological Argument, I realized, as just a 16-year-old, that Aquinas must have been deranged.  Where did he learn basic logic?  I reminded myself that logic wasn’t needed in Christianity, that it was evil.  I couldn’t help but think of Brother G’s talk on the first day of school and how Martin Luther had warned Christians against using reason in their contemplation and relationship with God. 

After turning my attention to Aquinas’ fourth and fifth proofs, the argument from degree, and the teleological argument or argument from design, I realized that I wasn’t going about this, my poetry writing assignment, in the right way.  I was turning this into more of a research project.  I was not using my imagination at all.  I was not attempting to connect seemingly unlike things as Mr. Johnson had instructed.  I need to be more spontaneous.  I sat with my eyes closed for at least five minutes.  The thought crossed my mind that I had started off thinking wrong.  God, which God?  What if I didn’t start with the Christian God?  Weren’t there, hadn’t there been hundreds and hundreds of different gods over the years?  Couldn’t I start with a wind god or a rain god or a sun god?  I wasn’t making much progress.  I was already contemplating my next poem, “Where is God Now?”

Somewhat frustrated, I stood up and was walking to the kitchen for a little more Coca Cola when the phone rang.  Dad hollered over the blaring football game that it was for me. 

“Hello.”

“Matt, it’s Olivia.  I’m so upset.  I hope you don’t mind me calling.”  I could barely understand what she was saying.  She seemed to be both crying and out of breath.

“It’s okay.  I was working on my poem.  I was going to call you in a little while.  Why are you upset?”

“You haven’t heard?”  Olivia said, sounding more like her natural voice.  “The horrible car wreck.  Last night.”

“No.  I’ve been here all day.  I was sick last night and couldn’t come to church this morning.  What are you talking about?”  I said realizing that I had never heard Olivia being so incoherent.

“Kyle Keller and his younger brother Kent, and Brenda Simmons, and Tina Williams were all killed late yesterday afternoon.  Kyle and Brenda are seniors and Kent and Tina are my age, ninth graders.”

“What happened?”  I was searching my mind for what to say.  I had never had such a conversation.

“Nobody knows for sure, but the police are saying that Kyle was going too fast for the curve on Bruce Road, given the rain.  Matt, they found beer cans in the car.  Here’s what is tearing me up.  They don’t even know for sure who was driving.  If the four of them hadn’t had their school ID cards the police wouldn’t have known who they were.  They were so mangled.”

“I’m so sorry.  Were you friends with Kent and Tina?”  After I said it, I recognized that it was a dumb question.  What relevance was Olivia’s friendship.  If the three of them were not friends, would the accident and Kent and Tina’s death have been no big deal. 

“Tina had just started coming to youth group.  She was quiet.  Matt, she was saved only last week.  My heart goes out to her family.  Why would this happen?”

I was surprised that Olivia would ask this question, especially that she would ask it of me.  “I don’t know.  From what you just said it sounds like Kyle, or whoever was driving, made some bad decisions.  I hate to say it but, to me, bad decisions usually have bad consequences.  I suspect you would have a different take on what happened and why.”

“I usually do.  This is the first time I have ever had someone so close to me to die.   Before, I’ve always thought, ‘God is mysterious, we do not know, and cannot know what He does, and why He does things the way He does, but we can trust Him because He loves His children.’”

I don’t know if I was simply trying to be a smart ass or what, but I responded, so low Olivia couldn’t have heard me: “Maybe God needed Tina to help him hand out angel’s wings in Heaven.”

“Matt, I didn’t hear you, but were you making fun of me?  I need you to console me, to help me get through this.  You are the only boy I can confide in.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“Could you?  Mother said it would be okay.  I asked her before I called.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.  Olivia, I’m glad you called.”

I rode my bike and was excited about seeing her and that she had asked me to come to her, but my heart went out to the families of the teenagers who had died a horrible death.

The primary aim of the "Novel Excerpts" blog category is to showcase my creative writing, specifically from the novels I've written. Hopefully, these posts will provide a glimpse into my storytelling style, themes, and narrative skills. It's an opportunity to share my artistic expressions and the worlds I've created through my novels.

The Boaz Secrets, written in 2018, is my third novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.

Book Blurb

Fifteen year-old Matt Benson moves with Robert, his widowed father, to Boaz, Alabama for one year as Robert conducts research on Southern Baptist Fundamentalism.  Robert, a professor of Bible History and new Testament Theology at the University of Chicago’s Divinity School enlists Matt to assist him as an undercover agent at First Baptist Church of Christ.  Matt’s job is to befriend the most active young person in the Church’s youth group and learn the heart and mind of teenagers growing up as fundamentalist Southern Baptists.

Olivia Tillman is the fourteen year old daughter of Betty and Walter Tillman.  He is the pastor of First Baptist Church of Christ.  Robert and Matt move to Boaz in June 1970, and before high school begins in mid-August, Matt and Olivia become fast friends.   Olivia’s life is centered around her faith, her family, and her friends.  She is struck with Matt and his doubts and vows to win him to Christ.  Over the next year, Matt and Olivia’s relationship blossoms into more than a teenage romance, despite their different religious beliefs. 

June 1971 and Matt’s return to Chicago comes too quickly, but the two teenagers vow to never lose what they have, even promising to reunite at college in three years after Olivia graduates from Boaz High School.

The Boaz Secrets is told from the perspective of past and present.  The story alternates between 1970-1971, and 2017-2018.  After Matt left Boaz in June 1971, life happened and Olivia and Matt’s plans fell apart.  However, in December 2017, their lives crossed again, almost miraculously, and they have a month in Boaz to catch up on forty-six years of being apart.  They attempt to discover whether their teenage love can be rekindled and transformed into an adult romance even though Matt is 63 and Olivia is 61.

In 2017, Olivia and Matt are quick to learn they are vastly different people than they were as fifteen and sixteen year old teenagers– especially, when it comes to religion and faith.  Will these religious differences unite them?  The real issue is the secret Olivia has kept.  Will Matt’s discovery destroy any chance he and Olivia have of rekindling their teenage relationship?

Chapter 16

December 16, 2017

Saturday afternoon Olivia and I had ridden bicycles to Aurora Lake and back.  It was almost dark when we returned.  We were exhausted.  The bikes, although ten speeds, used old chain & gear technology.  It had been a spur of the moment purchase decision at Walmart and halfway through the ride we both regretted not having gone to a movie instead.

At Aurora Lake, Olivia had asked me to join her at Warren and Tiffany’s tonight at 7:00.  They were doing all they could to minister to Randi Radford and Judith Ericson.  These two women were still reeling from the disappearance, and most likely, death, of their husbands.  Randi’s Randall, and Judith’s John, had been missing for several months.  All investigative efforts had concluded their disappearances were involuntary.  According to Olivia and her earlier conversation with Warren, foul play was suspected since rumor was there had been a ransom demand made shortly after John’s disappearance.  Warren and Tiffany had invited Olivia and me mainly because, I suspected, we were more contemporaries with Randi and Judith, the four of us having attended Boaz High School together in the early 70’s.  I also suspected that Wade Tillman, Warren’s father, had something to do with this little gathering.

Olivia and I sat on the front porch for nearly an hour after returning from our bike ride.  I still had no real furniture inside, although I had bought an Auburn and an Alabama beanbag chair at a local thrift store.  I had wanted us to go inside but Olivia had requested the cool air and the gentle breeze, saying it would cool us off better, and, “dissipate the smell of sweat.”  I hadn’t realized that I was beaming out body odor.  Maybe she was afraid we might start something inside that we couldn’t finish before our little get-to-gather.  I would have liked nothing better.  I think she would have too.  Maybe it was all in my imagination, but I thought I had sensed a little vibe rumbling when we had spread out a blanket I had carried with us to the Lake.  Couple that with her unexpected reference to the night we had created John and Paul Cummins, my hopes for a passionate kiss were heightened, but not rewarded.  After returning, I thought maybe the smoldering embers could be reignited now.  Again, it didn’t happen.  The swing, and being close to Olivia, were reward and satisfaction enough.  For now. 

At 6:00, Olivia left to return to Warren’s to shower and dress in time for the gathering.  I stayed, showered, and walked the five blocks wishing, the closer I got to Warren’s, that I had driven.  The night’s frigid air made me wish I had worn more than the light jacket I had on.  Tiffany opened the front door just as I walked up the porch steps.  “Hi Matt.  Come in, I can’t believe this cold weather.  Come in and warm-up.”

I didn’t know Judith Ericson, John’s wife, but I remembered Randi Radford.  As teenagers, Randi Bonds and Olivia were the same age and both in the ninth grade when I was in the eleventh during my one year at Boaz High School.  They were the best of friends.  Randi’s sister, Rickie Bonds, was my age and was in my grade, along with Randall and the other four members of the Flaming Five.  Olivia had told me the whole Boaz community had been surprised when Randall had married Randi.  Rickie was Randall’s age, a varsity cheerleader, and rumors were, one of four cheerleaders who had hung out with Randall and the other four members of the Flaming Five throughout their high school years at a place call Club Eden.  Again, rumor was, it was a secret place out in the woods, owned by the families of the Flaming Five, where Randall and his buddies spent time, with Rickie and three other sexually-active teenagers, when the guys were not playing basketball,

Tiffany led me into a large den where a roaring fire in the fireplace was like a magnet for my chill.  “Why don’t you let that fire pull out the chill of the night air.  I still can’t believe you walked.  You’ll catch your death of cold.”  Tiffany was, what I imagined, the typical Southern Belle.  She was tall, slender, graceful, and had spent thirty-six or seven years developing the perfect cadence to mesmerize her audience with what, at first, might appear as gullibility.  I figured she was anything but gullible, having come from a family of lawyers and judges in Atlanta.  “Oh, by the way, Warren and the others are down in the basement.  He’s showing off his man-cave.  They’ll be right back.”

I stood by the fire thankful for its presence.  I imagined the intensity of its heat as analogous to what my heart was beaming to my head.  I was still amazed at how, after forty-six years, just the sight of Olivia Tillman had rekindled the love I had let almost die.  In less than ten minutes Warren and Olivia appeared followed by three women, none of whom I recognized.  Warren introduced me.  I had expected Randi and Judith, but not Randi’s sister, Rickie Downs, my eleventh grade Boaz classmate.  Warren had us all sit on an assortment of couches and chairs forming a semi-circle around the fireplace.  I chose a lounging chair the furthest from the overly fed fire.  In ten minutes I had almost set my pants on fire.  I sat and listened.  Warren seemed determined to keep the conversation light.  He focused on college football and whether Alabama would be able to tame the Clemson Tigers this year if that’s how the National Championship Game shaped up in January.  Olivia soon tamed Warren and moved the talk in another direction.  She told Randi and Judith how sorry she was about Randall and John.  Warren’s cell phone sang out a loud ‘Roll Tide’ and he dismissed himself towards what I suspected was the kitchen or dining room.  Over the next several minutes or so I sensed a little coldness between Judith and Olivia.  It wasn’t anything that had been said.  I had always been, or at least I had always thought I was, an expert on reading and interpreting body language.  Eyes, body posture, voice pitch and tone, all fit together, along with the motion or lack thereof, from the hands, seemed to be key indicators of relationships, or, the current feelings between two people.  I may have been reading too much into it, but it was clear that Judith was an extra cog in a wheel carefully controlled by Olivia and Randi Radford and Rickie Downs.

Just now, I saw Olivia’s smile almost turn to a smirk, Tiffany walked in and politely requested a little help setting the table and pouring the drinks.  Olivia and Randi jumped up immediately and almost galloped towards Tiffany.  Rickie and Judith remained seated.  Maybe it was Randi and Olivia’s youth, albeit, only two years younger than the rest of us, that had launched them from their comfy seats.

Judith’s countenance changed remarkably when Olivia and Randi left.  I listened as she and Rickie reminisced.  It seemed Rickie had moved away after high school, and Judith had moved to Boaz.  It was after her and John had married during college at the University of Alabama.  Judith had grown up in Birmingham and had met John at a Christian youth camp one summer during high school.  The following summer the two again attended the same camp.  In college, at Tuscaloosa, they had rekindled their friendship.  I was surprised when Judith turned her attention to me.  “Matt, I hear you’re not from Boaz but did spend one year here with these crazy people back in high school?”

“That’s right.  This is the first time I have been back to Boaz since the end of the eleventh grade and when my Dad and I moved back home to Chicago in June 1971.”  I said, standing up and removing my jacket.  The way Judith was looking at me made me feel I was about to be cross-examined.  I hoped that my intuition was wrong.  There was no good reason to be thinking I was in a witness chair.

“Did you meet Olivia while you were here?  I know she’s a lot younger than you.”  Judith asked.

I didn’t know how to take her, especially the last statement.  Did I look like Olivia’s father?  Much, much older than Olivia?

Judith seemed to sense my confusion.  “Oh, that didn’t come out right.  What I meant was, two or three years difference in age during high school seems like an eternity.  You said you were in the eleventh grade.  That would put Olivia in, what, the eighth or ninth grade?”

“She was in the ninth grade, her first year of high school, during the year I was here.”  I said, wondering the relevance of mine and Olivia’s ages.

Rickie seemed preoccupied with a magazine she had picked up off the coffee table.  From my angle it looked like it was a copy of The Pastor, a journal I knew from my Dad, that was published by the Southwestern Theological Seminary in Dallas.  “I can’t believe a Tillman is still the pastor of First Baptist Church of Christ.  After what his grandfather and father have done.”  I couldn’t believe Rickie had said this.

“Right now, nothing has been proven.  Don’t be so quick to rush to judgment.”  Judith responded.

“Maybe not in court but sure as hell, Wade and James Adams killed Gina.”  That’s Warren’s mother.”  Rickie said looking at me.  “How could he still support his father, I’ll never figure.”  Rickie seemed intent on getting some things off her chest.

“Rickie, you always seemed to buy into rumors.  That’s all you know, just what you’ve heard.  I hear you haven’t lived here in over forty years.  Your opinion of Wade and James is based totally on how you remember them from high school.  Like John Ericson, my dearly departed husband, Wade and James grew up and became honorable men.  They volunteered countless hours to youth in this community, trying their best to lead them to a closer walk with Christ.”  Judith eloquently made a good case.

Rickie didn’t back down.  “Shit, I’d bet you an ounce of gold that every one of the Flaming Five have continued to have their sexual playmates on the side, even while they were playing their Jesus games.  Their lust for female companionship started way before you came along.  Not to disparage John but he and his four buddies, and me and three of my cheerleader friends, enjoyed many a roll in the hay.”

“Rickie, don’t talk like that.  John is no doubt dead.  Whatever he did as a teenager was forgiven by God.  John told me everything.  We had no secrets.  He was ashamed of all that went on when he was in high school, all the times in the big tent at Club Eden.  You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.  John changed.  He became a faithful Christian man.”  Judith said as I became more uncomfortable and wishing Tiffany would call us to dinner.

“I bet you John didn’t tell you about him and Olivia.”  Rickie blurted out, covering her mouth just as the last syllable reeked out of a mouth that I wish was nowhere around Boaz right now.

Suddenly, I felt sick.  At first, I thought I had misheard Rickie.  It’s funny how your mind can play tricks on you.  I had interpreted her statement to be a reference to the lives of two people, things that had happened independently of each other.  Then, it dawned on me that Rickie was implying that Olivia and John had a relationship, a boyfriend and girlfriend relationship during high school.

“What are you talking about?”  Judith’s voice now evidenced concern, maybe even a little anger.

“I admit this might just be a rumor.  Olivia spent six months or so of her Sophomore year as a recluse, holed up here in this parsonage.  Rumor was she was pregnant by John Ericson.  Most people in the church and even in the community knew John was charged by Olivia’s father as her protector, at least one of them.  Pastor Walter was so fooled by the Flaming Five that he trusted all of them, having made them promise to watch after his sweet, dear Olivia.  Word was that Olivia liked John more than her brother Wade, and the other three.  Everybody for the most part believed she was so zealous for Jesus that she was trying to save him, get him to confess, repent, and accept Jesus as his savior.  But, somewhere along the line, John manipulated her into a sexual relationship.  Judith, I shouldn’t have said any of this.  I’m sorry.”  Rickie’s apology was too little too late.

“Sorry is what you are.  You had no right to throw this in my face.  May you rot in hell for lying about my sweet and faithful husband.”  Judith stood up, walked over to the front door, and walked out.  Slamming the door enough for it to have good reason to jump off its hinges.  Fortunately, it didn’t.

“Sweet and faithful my ass, surely she ain’t crazy enough to believe that shit.  Rickey said just as Tiffany and Warren appeared in the archway from the kitchen.  No doubt brought here because of the door’s thunder reverberating throughout the house.  “What’s going on?”  Warren asked.

“Judith got her panties in a wad and decided she had another appointment.  I guess.”  Rickie said standing up and moving towards the fireplace.

“What was she upset about?”  Tiffany asked.

“I don’t like starting rumors, so I’ll just say she needed to express her response to some news about her late husband.  Let’s leave it at that.”

“That’s too bad.  None of us will ever know what she’s going through.  It must be terrible not really knowing what happened to John.”  Tiffany said.

“Whatever.”  Warren didn’t seem too concerned.  “Come on you two, the steaks are perfect if I do say so myself.”

During the next forty-five minutes I wished I had the courage to run out the door with Judith.  I couldn’t enjoy the good meal before me, even though I was hungry.  All I could think about as I sat silent and the five others talked non-stop about the good ole days was whether what Rickie said was true or whether it was simply a rumor.  I decided it was just gossip.  I believed Olivia.  I certainly knew the truth about her teenage pregnancy.  I was there.  Even though it might be a rare thing, one sexual encounter and twin boys appear nine months later.  It certainly was way more than possible.  I had proof.  John and Paul Cummins were my proof.  They were my sons.  They were Olivia’s sons.  And, Olivia and John had been just friends. 

By the time Rickie and Randi left and Warren and Tiffany were busy cleaning up the table and the kitchen, my mind was at peace.  I would have liked to have stayed longer with Olivia, but she had a headache and we decided to call it a night. 

She walked me out onto the front porch, kissed me quickly, and said goodnight.

The primary aim of the "Novel Excerpts" blog category is to showcase my creative writing, specifically from the novels I've written. Hopefully, these posts will provide a glimpse into my storytelling style, themes, and narrative skills. It's an opportunity to share my artistic expressions and the worlds I've created through my novels.

The Boaz Secrets, written in 2018, is my third novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.

Book Blurb

Fifteen year-old Matt Benson moves with Robert, his widowed father, to Boaz, Alabama for one year as Robert conducts research on Southern Baptist Fundamentalism.  Robert, a professor of Bible History and new Testament Theology at the University of Chicago’s Divinity School enlists Matt to assist him as an undercover agent at First Baptist Church of Christ.  Matt’s job is to befriend the most active young person in the Church’s youth group and learn the heart and mind of teenagers growing up as fundamentalist Southern Baptists.

Olivia Tillman is the fourteen year old daughter of Betty and Walter Tillman.  He is the pastor of First Baptist Church of Christ.  Robert and Matt move to Boaz in June 1970, and before high school begins in mid-August, Matt and Olivia become fast friends.   Olivia’s life is centered around her faith, her family, and her friends.  She is struck with Matt and his doubts and vows to win him to Christ.  Over the next year, Matt and Olivia’s relationship blossoms into more than a teenage romance, despite their different religious beliefs. 

June 1971 and Matt’s return to Chicago comes too quickly, but the two teenagers vow to never lose what they have, even promising to reunite at college in three years after Olivia graduates from Boaz High School.

The Boaz Secrets is told from the perspective of past and present.  The story alternates between 1970-1971, and 2017-2018.  After Matt left Boaz in June 1971, life happened and Olivia and Matt’s plans fell apart.  However, in December 2017, their lives crossed again, almost miraculously, and they have a month in Boaz to catch up on forty-six years of being apart.  They attempt to discover whether their teenage love can be rekindled and transformed into an adult romance even though Matt is 63 and Olivia is 61.

In 2017, Olivia and Matt are quick to learn they are vastly different people than they were as fifteen and sixteen year old teenagers– especially, when it comes to religion and faith.  Will these religious differences unite them?  The real issue is the secret Olivia has kept.  Will Matt’s discovery destroy any chance he and Olivia have of rekindling their teenage relationship?

Chapter 15

October 1970

The rest of the week was all downhill after Wednesday night.  Olivia had played me in a game of ping-pong before the youth group disbanded.  She had also asked me to walk her home.  Something about the Flaming Five being at Albertville First Baptist speaking to their youth group about how basketball had changed their lives.  Olivia said her father was hard to figure, “He wants John, Fred, Wade, Randall, or James, to walk me home on Sunday and Wednesday nights, even though I only live next door.  But, he lets me ride my bicycle to the Lighthouse, and sometimes to school, all alone.  These times I feel like I’m being watched.  I’m getting tired of being so smothered.”

This had given me the opportunity, or so I thought, of asking Olivia to go with me to Friday night’s football game.  Boaz was hosting Guntersville.  She turned me down.  Cold.  She said that her father didn’t allow her to date, he says she is too young to be alone with a boy.  Something about Christian girls should be at least 16 before they started dating.  I had learned Olivia’s birthday was in May.  She was now only 14 and it would be an entire school year before she was 15 when she could date, supervised.  I would never get to date the sweet and naive Olivia.

Olivia’s rejection was the beginning of my troubles attending Boaz High School.  Friday night Dad and I had gone to the game.  We sat up high in the bleachers, behind the band and the cheer section, where all the other students sat.  It was midway through the first quarter before I saw her.  Olivia was sitting in the next section over, towards the fifty-yard line.  And, she wasn’t sitting with any of her girlfriends.  She was sitting up close and comfy to John Ericson.  I first thought about what Olivia had said.  Her dad was smothering her by always insisting on her having a protector, a chaperon of sorts.  He, Pastor Walter, no doubt believed that he could trust his son Wade’s four closest friends, the four other members of the Flaming Five.  As the game progressed, all I could do was watch Olivia.  No one in their right mind, if they had been in my shoes looking at Olivia and John, would have concluded that the two of them were not on a date.  I saw nothing that would persuade me otherwise.  Of course, this wasn’t the worst thing.  It was what I already knew about John and his four teammates. They thought about nothing else except basketball and naked girls.  Their Christianity, rather their fake Christianity, was nothing but a cover, a way to cozy up to the girls in the youth group.  During the game, all I could think about was how vulgar a mind John almost daily had expressed during lunch the entire first week of school.  I hated myself for being such a damn chicken.  On Wednesday I had vowed to find another place to eat but hadn’t done a thing but fall right back in the same routine and sit with these five guys. 

Before going to bed on Friday night it hit me like a rock.  Were Olivia and John dating?  Secretly?  Maybe John had everyone fooled.  He had won the trust of Pastor Walter and Olivia’s mother, Betty.  Olivia too was part of the conspiracy.  She was playing along with her father, being the quiet and obedient little girl while all along letting her natural hormones drive her conduct.  I became so agitated imagining John’s dirty mind directing his big hands to wander all over Olivia’s body, I had to get up and drink a glass of milk.  I think it was nearly dawn before I ever dozed off to sleep.

Saturday afternoon, I rode my bicycle to the Lighthouse.  During the ride I realized the power of a Christian community.  More particularly, I thought how easily I was falling into indoctrination.  Not so much believing in what Brother Randy and Olivia were always spouting about, but in being drawn to the youth group.  This was one of the strongest draws.  Everyone needs other people in their life.  We, as humans, are social animals.  I knew the youth group was like a magnet and I was becoming virtually powerless to resist.  I had to keep my focus on my mission.  But, already, that had become a secondary objective.  I guess my reason for going to the Lighthouse was the hope of seeing Olivia.  Who was I kidding?

When I arrived, Brother Randy was talking with a group of kids around the podium at the back of the large room.  Gerry and the Candlesticks were playing contemporary Christian rock from the little stage.  Gerry Goss was the best guitarist of the three.  James was dozing in an Auburn Tiger beanbag chair, soaking up the afternoon sun which beamed through the large glass windows that covered the entire front of the building.

“Hey Chicago.”  It was a nickname James had coined almost from the first night we had met in the basement of First Baptist Church of Christ.  After slamming the ping pong ball down my throat, he had said, “Take that Chicago.”  The name had stuck and more and more of the youth group, even students at school, were trying it on for size.

“Hi James.  What’s happening?”  I said, comfortable that this question was as common in the South as it was in Chicago.

“Just hanging out.  Waiting on the gang.  We have a pick-up game at the gym at 4:00.  You better join us.”

“Thanks, but you already know, from three weeks ago, that I’m not too coordinated when it comes to basketball.  I’m okay if you don’t add in the part about running, shooting, passing.  That doesn’t even include the dribbling part.”

“Oh yea.  I forgot.  You are totally spastic.  You could come and watch you know.”  James said getting up, stretching his big frame that seemed to span halfway across the entire front wall of the building.

We walked back toward the refreshments bar.  The bell on the front door rattled just as we took a sip of our Kool-Aid.   I turned and saw Olivia coming first through the door followed by her brother Wade, Fred, Randall, and my biggest enemy, John Ericson.

“James, you retard.  We waited thirty minutes on you.  You were supposed to meet us at Wade’s to plan our game strategy.  Those guys from Albertville, we hear, are dog gone good.”  Randall said to us and grabbing a handful of chocolate chip cookies.

“I knew you could handle it.  It’s just my way of keeping you guys guessing whether I’m just your little puppy dog.  If you didn’t know.  I’m not.”  James responded.

For the next hour we all sat in bean bag chairs at the front of the Lighthouse.  It seemed everyone else was frozen.  Even though kids came and went, it appeared they all gravitated to the back where Brother Randy must have been handing out free cash (just kidding), or sharing a new Biblical insight.  Gerry and the Candlesticks, according to Olivia, were experimenting with some of their new music.  They seemed talented in turning old gospel songs into something a little more modern and with a faster beat.  I don’t think I said a thing for the whole hour.  I just listened as the Flaming Five gossiped about who was with who at the dance Friday night after the game.  I hadn’t even known there was a dance.  I noted that Olivia had not joined in the conversation either.  At two different times she had looked at me and smiled, once offering to get me some more Kool-Aid.

I was truly thankful when the Flaming Five left for their basketball scrimmage.  I wasn’t disappointed that Olivia had stayed at the Lighthouse.  For a few minutes it was awkward, mainly, unknown to her, because of my desire to find out about Friday night.  Just as I was about to ask her how she liked last night’s game she jumped over into the bean bag next to mine.

“Matt, I feel I owe you an apology.”  She said, straightening up and laying her hand on mine.

“What on earth do you mean?”

“Last Wednesday night you asked me on a date, for us to go to the game last night.  I declined.  I should have told you that John was taking me but that it wasn’t a date.  I saw you walking out of the stadium with your Dad last night.  All I could think was, ‘I bet he saw me with John and believes we were here on a date.’”

“You are brilliant I said with my best sarcasm.  That’s exactly what I thought.  Olivia, it’s okay if you don’t like me or want to go out with me.”  I said.

“You must be the most stupid boy from Chicago to think I don’t like you.  Matt, my father won’t let me date.”  Olivia said, returning her hand onto mine.

“It sure looked like you and John were nothing but a couple, a dating couple.  I guess I watched you for nearly two hours.  Damn, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Watch your language sir.  It’s okay to be open and honest.  Just be careful what you say around Brother Randy.  He hates foul language.”  Olivia said looking towards the back area of the Lighthouse.

“I hate it too.  I rarely ever think about saying an ugly word.  Olivia, thanks for talking with me.  I know you have a million friends and don’t have to spend any time with me.”  I said, being fully honest.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“You wouldn’t believe how good I am at keeping secrets.”  I said, almost trying to admit me working for Dad on his little project.  But, I didn’t.  I knew that would kill any chances I had with Olivia.

“Out of all my friends, I had rather be with you.  You kind of have been on my mind lately.  You are so different than John and his buddies.  You seem truly interested in me as a person.  Matt, I’m not so naive as to think that if it weren’t for my Dad, John, and for sure, Randall, would be doing everything they could to date me, which obviously would include trying to get me in the back seat of a car.”  I was shocked by what she had said.

“Let me let you in on a little secret.  I would bet my last dollar that’s what those two guys are after regardless of being Wade’s friend and the respect they have for your pastor father.  They are playing games.  They know that if they reveal their hand, they will lose.  They will no doubt be kicked out of the youth group and lose all chances of being around you.  Please Olivia, be wise, be careful.”  I said beginning to feel like a counselor.

“You are wise beyond your age Matt.  Thanks for caring about me.  Now, let me hear about your “Who Made God?” poem.

The primary aim of the "Novel Excerpts" blog category is to showcase my creative writing, specifically from the novels I've written. Hopefully, these posts will provide a glimpse into my storytelling style, themes, and narrative skills. It's an opportunity to share my artistic expressions and the worlds I've created through my novels.

The Boaz Secrets, written in 2018, is my third novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.

Book Blurb

Fifteen year-old Matt Benson moves with Robert, his widowed father, to Boaz, Alabama for one year as Robert conducts research on Southern Baptist Fundamentalism.  Robert, a professor of Bible History and new Testament Theology at the University of Chicago’s Divinity School enlists Matt to assist him as an undercover agent at First Baptist Church of Christ.  Matt’s job is to befriend the most active young person in the Church’s youth group and learn the heart and mind of teenagers growing up as fundamentalist Southern Baptists.

Olivia Tillman is the fourteen year old daughter of Betty and Walter Tillman.  He is the pastor of First Baptist Church of Christ.  Robert and Matt move to Boaz in June 1970, and before high school begins in mid-August, Matt and Olivia become fast friends.   Olivia’s life is centered around her faith, her family, and her friends.  She is struck with Matt and his doubts and vows to win him to Christ.  Over the next year, Matt and Olivia’s relationship blossoms into more than a teenage romance, despite their different religious beliefs. 

June 1971 and Matt’s return to Chicago comes too quickly, but the two teenagers vow to never lose what they have, even promising to reunite at college in three years after Olivia graduates from Boaz High School.

The Boaz Secrets is told from the perspective of past and present.  The story alternates between 1970-1971, and 2017-2018.  After Matt left Boaz in June 1971, life happened and Olivia and Matt’s plans fell apart.  However, in December 2017, their lives crossed again, almost miraculously, and they have a month in Boaz to catch up on forty-six years of being apart.  They attempt to discover whether their teenage love can be rekindled and transformed into an adult romance even though Matt is 63 and Olivia is 61.

In 2017, Olivia and Matt are quick to learn they are vastly different people than they were as fifteen and sixteen year old teenagers– especially, when it comes to religion and faith.  Will these religious differences unite them?  The real issue is the secret Olivia has kept.  Will Matt’s discovery destroy any chance he and Olivia have of rekindling their teenage relationship?

Chapter 14

December 14, 2017

Thursday couldn’t have come too soon.  John and Paul’s plane was scheduled to arrive in Birmingham at 1:45 p.m.  Olivia and I had decided to spend the morning in Talladega at the Federal Correctional Institution.  It was here that Walter and Wade Tillman, and James Adams, were being held awaiting their criminal trials.

We arrived in Talladega at 9:00 a.m. after an hour’s drive reliving the three days we, along with sixty other members of the First Baptist Church of Christ youth group, had spent in Gatlinburg, Tennessee in December 1970.  We had taken this trip during the Christmas break from school.  For the first time, I could be completely honest with Olivia about how she had treated me that entire long weekend.  She had provided John Ericson almost uninterrupted attention.  Back then, after we had returned from Gatlinburg, she had told me that the two of them were just friends and that she was trying to get him to realize he was lost.  She explained that a real Christian didn’t act and talk the way he did.  Olivia expressed sincere grief over John’s disappearance (and assumed death), along with the same for Randall Radford and Fred Billingsley sometime during 2016.  I was not one to hold a grudge, but I still didn’t feel any sadness over his disappearance and assumed death that had taken place last year.

For the next two hours, I sat before James, separated by impenetrable glass, holding an ancient phone, and talking non-stop.  Olivia, I assumed was doing the same, except alternating her time between Walter and Wade.  I wouldn’t have recognized James if it hadn’t been for his voice, and possibly his eyes.  He didn’t seem nearly as tall as I remembered him.  It could have been the way he walked, and slouched, even while sitting.  I hadn’t seen him since the day Dad and I had left Boaz in June 1971.  He was probably fifty pounds lighter, balding, and now wore glasses.  His skin looked as yellow as someone about to die from liver failure.  He seemed pleased that I had come.  At first, I asked all the questions and he responded with the shortest answers possible.  But, after thirty minutes he had taken control of the entire conversation.  He wanted to know everything about my life.  The last hour, he talked about his two children, Justin, and Loree Adams Neilson, and his four grandchildren.  James seemed concerned that I had never had children.  We didn’t talk about his predicament.  I felt that he would have brought it up if he had wanted to talk about it.  When my two hours were up, he placed his right hand upon the glass with his fingers splayed out as much as he could.  He said, “The Flaming Five are dying a slow but certain death.  Please remember Randall Radford, Fred Billingsley, and John Ericson.  Pray they may be found and that they are alive.”  I placed my left hand over his, almost feeling his slowing pulse although separated by the half-inch glass.  The prison guard came for him and I didn’t know what to say.  In hindsight it was stupid, but the only way I could give James hope was to say, “stay strong my friend because when we meet again I’m going to kick your butt in ping-pong.”  He smiled as the guard led him away.

Olivia had arranged with John and Paul to meet us at the airport.  During the entire drive from Talladega to Birmingham, it seemed all Olivia could do was cry.  She didn’t gain control until we were parked on level four in the parking deck across from the airport terminal.  “Thanks for respecting my need to let it all come out.  I’ve kept it in for nearly half a century.”

“I’m sorry your visit with your father and brother were so painful.”  I said as we walked toward the elevators.

“Seeing my father and Wade brought back such horrible memories.  I relived every bad thing they ever did to me.”

“Try to recognize the flip side.  You and I are here to meet our children.  Olivia, we are eternally connected.  To me, that is the most beautiful thing I could ever imagine.  I love you today more than ever.  Let’s try to forget the bad and focus on the good.”

“You’re right.  Thanks.  You have always had a way of making me feel safe and secure.”

John and Paul’s plane was delayed.  Something about snow in Cleveland, Ohio.  I had never been able to figure out airline logistics.  Our two sons were flying from Dallas, Texas to Birmingham, Alabama.  Why on earth would they fly through Ohio?

At 4:30 p.m., after over an hour and a half waiting, Olivia screamed with excitement as she elbowed me hard and said, “There they are.”  She had recognized them instantly, the first moment they were visible walking from inside the long hallway from their plane.

I looked over and my mind raced back nearly fifty years.  I thought I was seeing Wade as he looked in high school.  My mind changed its framing the closer they got.  Olivia had made one of the silly little signs that people use to connect with a long-lost friend or someone they had never met.  Her sign read, ‘Olivia Tillman.’  She had drawn a large heart shape where she had written, ‘Mother loves her twins,’ in smaller letters.  They must have heard Olivia’s scream although I didn’t think it was that loud.  No doubt the three of them were already connecting because John and Paul were jogging towards us.  Now, it seemed the two of them looked like Walter Tillman.  I quickly did the math and thought it a strange coincidence that John and Paul were now only a few years older than Walter was when I moved to Boaz in 1970; Walter would have been around 40 to 41 and John and Paul would now be 44.  They looked exactly like I remember Walter when I was fifteen years old.

“Mother.”  They both said, sitting their carry-on bags down and reaching out for a visibly shaken Olivia.  The three of them stood in a circle with arms enveloping arms while cheek-kisses abounded amid multiple streams of tears.  I had never felt so alone.  It was like I was invisible.  Neither John nor Paul had even peeked a look at me.  Finally, emotions subsided, or their arms grew weary of an uncomfortable embrace, and they all three turned to me.

“This is your father, Matthew William Benson.”  Olivia said walking over to me and taking my hand.  He is the reason you two are so good-looking.

I made the first move and took two steps forward.  They responded as I had hoped.  They both shook my hand and first, Paul, and then, John, reached out and gave me a man-type hug.  They were both tall and slender.  They certainly looked more like Olivia than me. 

The four of us stood there for five minutes chatting about their flight and the delay from the heavy snowstorm in Cleveland.  We finally decided to go to the Cracker Barrel restaurant in Trussville, just north of Birmingham.  Olivia gave them the address and John and Paul left, but only after another hug.  We went on ahead and let them grab their luggage and sign-out their rental car.  By 5:15, we were all four sitting at a table in the far back corner of Olivia’s favorite restaurant.

As Olivia and her boys started the long process of attempting to compress half a century into a two-hour dinner, I watched the two middle-aged men.  Paul was like a miniature version of John.  They both had blue eyes, high cheekbones and dark hair.  I concluded that these characteristics came from Walter’s side.  He was the dark-haired ancestor.  Olivia, no doubt, had inherited her blondness from Betty, her mother.  Other than Paul being slightly smaller than John, his hair was more salt and pepper.  It looked like Paul might have been dying his hair to retain a more youthful look.

As our visit continued, I learned there were much more than visible differences between John and Paul.  Even though both were college professors, their chosen subjects could hardly contrast more.  John was a paleoanthropologist at the University of Michigan.  Paul was a professor of New Testament at Moody Theological Seminary in Chicago.  At a high school in Dallas, they both had earned academic scholarships to Harvard, but Paul had transferred to Liberty University in Lynchburg, Virginia after his first semester.  About an hour into our meal, I felt a rising antagonism building between the brothers.  It didn’t take long for Olivia and me to notice that John was clearly an agnostic and Paul was virtually a spitting image of his grandfather regarding his fundamentalist Christian beliefs.  I was relieved to see how Olivia diffused the mounting angst when she said, “I can see me in both of you.  I have walked along both paths, that of faith and that of disbelief.  I know and have known many people, most that I still consider as friends, who differed vastly concerning their religious positions, but one thing is central to all.  We are humans.  We may not know exactly how we got here, but we know that to survive, we must join hands and pull in the same direction.  Now, who wants coconut pie?”

“I’m proud of you.”  I told Olivia as we drove back to Boaz.  She had held both her boys close once again as we all stood outside in the restaurant parking lot.  I again shook their hands.  No man hug was needed.  John and Paul had shared how they were going to spend the next several days driving and reconnecting with the great outdoors.  Both had been Eagle Scouts during high school and they wanted to hike a portion of the Appalachian Trail starting in North Georgia.  They promised they would come to Boaz for Christmas. 

“Why do you say that?”  Olivia said, sitting leaning towards me across the console.

“You doused what I knew was a hot fire erupting between John and Paul.  It was clear the two of them have some unsettled ground between them when it comes to the God question.”

“I’m trained you know.  I know both sides and learned long ago that there’s not much to be gained by arguing over Jesus.  It’s hard enough to deal with God, as a deist, the creator and now the silent and absent God, much less than dealing with Him having a son by a virgin girl who overcame death, and traveled back to Heaven.  It’s such a waste of time.”

“I have a feeling that John’s evidence, his work with Lee Berger during the expedition in the excavation of Homo naledi at Rising Star Cave in South Africa, would give Paul a little difficulty. 

“I doubt it.  Paul would simply respond, “naledi wasn’t a human my dear brother.  He, it, was just an ape.”

“I suppose you are correct.  True believers, fundamentalist believers, know nothing of human evolution.  They will die believing God created Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden less than ten thousand years ago.”  I said, reminded that my world of biology and genetics was waiting on me in Chicago, and I needed to buy a box of Christmas cards to send to my dearest friends and co-teachers.

During the next hour, all Olivia wanted to talk about was how things would have likely been if she and I had found a way nearly half a century ago to stay together, get married, and raise our two boys.  I found the entire conversation debilitating.  But, I did enjoy Olivia’s hand in mine.