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Shirley Ann Howard

Tales Out Of School, A Novel

Heat rose from concrete and asphalt pavements, and humidity much too steamy for September, hung thick and heavy in the air. Sandra Scott stood in a cavernous classroom behind a colossal oak desk—the teacher’s desk—amid stark fluorescent lights, a wall of open windows, and the smell of dusty grammar books on the shelves below. Stacks of a rebound literature anthology, green to match the boards, towered on the sills. It was the first day of school at Somerville High, five miles north of Boston. Surveying the scene in front of her, which included seating for thirty students, Sandy’s eye caught a glimpse of her chest heaving up and down, keeping time with a steady whoosh of long, deep breaths. Launching a new career, her second in as many years, made her heart pound. Relentlessly, it beat in her ears, like "A Tell-Tale Heart."

Tales Out Of College, Prequel to Tales Out Of School

A tall, light-haired man—leaning against the shaft of a thick Doric column—was fully engaged in observing a young woman speak. She was beautiful and articulate, intelligent and passionate. He’d met her once before. On this day she was standing on a table in the middle of the Student Union, protesting Boston University’s policy on what it would allow published in the school newspaper. She claimed it was censorship, a violation of first amendment rights. There was quite a crowd watching and listening. Her faded jeans hugged her curvy backside. Her short, tight sweater hugged her curvy bust, exposing a bit of midsection every time she raised her arms. She had long, flowing hair the color of honey, but the campus police were not as impressed as he, as they broke up the gathering, forced her down from the table, and led her away.

Tales From Home, Sequel to Tales Out Of School

Sandy sat on the Sandy sat on the floor of her kitchen. The Italian tile felt cold next to the light shorts she wore, as she leaned against honey oak cabinets and listened to the voices of her husband and children who were swimming and shrieking outside. She bent her head back and closed her eyes, a flood of memories invading her confused mind. Seventeen years had passed since Sandra Scott married Leonard Bachenweiler. During that time they built a modern colonial mansion on Duxbury Bay, thirty-five miles south of Boston, and became parents of four children: two boys, now ages fifteen and thirteen; and two girls, eleven and nine.

Boston University promoted Lenny to full professor of Biochemistry and Sandy became Managing Officer of their skin regeneration company, partners with his cousin Cory, a physician. The business had grown into a lucrative venture, but a sticky—check that, horrendous—situation caused Lenny and Cory to threaten to withdraw their interest, both intellectual as well as financial.