[An imaginary happening]
Unauthored
Letters is a 90-000-word novel
told from the perspective of Dr. John Sanders (third person limited
POV). Spanning over 18 years, this story shows how one weak girl,
placed in unfavorable circumstances, becomes a strong woman, and how
her growth impacts and changes the life of John Sanders.
Below is a chapter that was originally written to bridge a gap in the storyline. In the process, I became a fan of the Conrad Hooper character. However in time his placement took a different path.
A REMOVED SAMPLE CHAPTER
On a cool
winter's evening, in the midst of his packing, a knock changed everything.
John opened his apartment door to find a man whose large stature announced
his strength.
"Conrad
Hooper," the man stated.
John studied the
man and waited. Yet the man said no more. Instead an awkward silence followed.
Finally Conrad raised his Raiders cap, ran his hands through red curls, then
said, "You don't remember me?"
"Should
I?" John stared at the man's bloodshot eyes and the large fingers that
stroked the neatly trimmed auburn beard. He could almost recall a familiarity.
But the person he remembered had a different demeanor, loud and lively, not
this tired man at his door. Yet John vaguely recalled sharing a conversation
with a person who fit this shell.
"Hooper,"
the man stated with a bit more force. "Dr. Hooper—Clearcreek 1989
until...its death," he said ferociously. "Can I come in?" The
bloodshot eyes continued to stare at John.
"You
do look familiar," John noted and stepped aside while Conrad's large body
strode into his living quarters.
"Where
should I sit?" He surveyed the area. Partial packed boxes, filled with
books, dishes, and clothes were scattered across the room.
"Here."
John removed a large box from off the couch and grabbed a chair to sit across
from his guest.
"I
hear you're looking to surrender your license." Again, Dr. Hooper lifted
his ball cap and rubbed the thick mass of red curls.
"Who
told you that?"
"Landersen."
John persisted in
studying the face, the slightly flat nose, the worn down eyes, the heavy voice,
but all he could place was one interaction in Clearcreek's cafeteria, a solo
introduction and conversation. For the moment, he could not remember the
source, the topic, or any other doctors around, only that Hooper was lively,
full of smiles and laughs, an extremely upbeat guy, not the red eyed, somber
face before him.
"So,"
Conrad's voice was gruff, "is that your plan?"
The
topic was personal, nevertheless, John responded. "It's likely."
"You
can't."
John
remembered a staff party, one in which Hooper had been an active organizer,
where he had been the spokesperson, the gatherer, the real extrovert.
"Surrendering would be the best choice for me," John offered.
"Well,
it's a dumb choice." His expression was blank.
"I don't see
a reason to stick around."
Conrad
Hooper's eyes glanced over at a large cardboard boxes packed full of books.
"You certain you've made your decision?"
Nothing
remained in San Bernardino, only humiliation and loss. Other than feeling like
a slight coward, John needed to move on; he needed to start over and regain
some dignity to his life.
"Dr.
Steven J. Gravers," Hooper spoke slowly, "is a wolf. Even while his
own license has been revoked, he's still hunting, aiming to destroy."
"He's
powerful."
"So
how are you combating that?"
Against
his will, John shuddered. His testimony had been given. Then less than a week
after his statement, the Board began researching and digging into John's
mistakes. Gravers' threats had been true, and John no longer wanted to be
trapped in his revengeful game. Instead he wanted to return home and start
over. "If I have to, when the State puts him on trial, I'll testify."
"Good."
"But if they
have enough from me, I'd prefer to move on to better things."
Conrad
glanced again at a box of books then looked at John and smiled. "You won't
be sealing those up yet."
Everything
John did came with critical thought. This move from San Bernardino was not a
rash action; rather, it was an inner battle, one that continued to be difficult
and long. "Why not?"
Conrad's bloodshot
eyes studied John while his body leaned forward. "Gravers' intelligence
hurts all of us. He plans to weaken every one of us. If possible, he'll prolong
his trial, I wager for well over a year, and during that time, he'll affect all
of us, unless we don't let him. We can't let him. All of us need to be
there. We need to testify, and we need to be strong."
"How has he
hit you?"
Conrad leaned back
against the couch and stroked his beard. "I've done stupid things."
"Like
what?"
"A couple big
mistakes. Issues that would have cost me a bad blow, but Gravers took pity on
me. And I respected that man." Hooper's voice turned quiet. "And to a
certain point I still do."
"Really?"
The confession stirred John to feel disgust, yet intrigue.
"He helped me
through some things, and we did some negotiating."
"Did you work
with Rebecca?"
. . .
