Jelly Bean Sandwiches

By O.H. Grace

Eight-year-old Billy Randall knows something unusual is going on in the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning. He slips into the scene with an unknown little man who has gone through the dog door and started cooking Billys breakfast. This innocent but bizarre event leads to more secret rendezvous, each a bit bolder, climaxing with his astonished parents, Luke and Janice, discovering the activities. An extended family, including a long lost niece, Kikki, and the next door neighbors, the Grovers, find their lives filled with supernatural visitors and dangers, betrayal, and frustration. Only the grandparents know what action is necessary to dislodge the activities. Deeply embedded in the story is the occult, with Janice Randall, dancing around the seemingly innocent interest in her horoscope. Her resentment toward God because of unanswered prayers for her dying mother has led her to find answers in different and dangerous places.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490825489

O.H. Grace

O.H. Grace has a degree in music and a career as a dental lab technician comprised most of her life. Creative hobbies include painting, singing, sewing, dress design, and writing. Her home has been in Tulsa, Oklahoma, for seventeen years. She is the mother of two fabulous grown daughters and a lively cocker spaniel.

Book preview

Jelly Bean

Sandwiches

O.H. Grace

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Copyright © 2014 O.H. Grace.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-2549-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-2550-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-2548-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014902138

WestBow Press rev. date: 2/25/2014

Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Ponderings and Illuminations

About the Author

To Jennifer

A special friend who read each chapter as I wrote, and never failed to ask if I had written any more.

Preface

Jelly Bean Sandwiches, the title, jumped out of thin air. When the first chapter was complete, I realized it came from a deep probing in my mind regarding the reckless behavior of people who have been raised with decent moral values. What, I wondered, tips the balances, and where does it start? Is it subtle or blatant?

Most of the experiences shared are a part of my life, but I assigned fictional characters to tell the story.

You will find the reading fast paced and full of supernatural beings that are in position to ruin lives. My purpose is to not only entertain but to also give the reader the incentive to reflect upon how far a small thing can turn into major issue.

Acknowledgments

Thanks to the dear friends who read this in rough draft: Carolyn Hill, Jane Clark, Patricia Speer, and my daughters Anna and Maria. You’ve all made this project a dream come true.

My right arm, Elizabeth Simmons, spent hours and hours editing.

How could I forget Gary and Judy Gilmore, my pastors and mentors for twenty years? I will be forever grateful and appreciative for your influence.

None of this would be possible without the Lord who gave me the story.

Chapter One

The Visitor

T here it was again, the smell of bacon, coffee, fried chicken, and cookies drifting into Billy’s room. Each smell was distinctive, yet all of them together. I’m told a dog senses smell like that. Billy stretched and yawned, trying not to wake up too much, yet strangely drawn to the aromas. What a way to awaken. It must be heaven. Mom’s oatmeal never did much for his motivation to get out of bed. Still, he turned over and shut his eyes tightly. If this was a dream, why would he want to be awake? He was so groggy that he barely noticed it was still dark outside. It was summer vacation, so why would his mom be in the kitchen cooking at this hour? Suddenly, both his eyes popped open with the thought that maybe they were going on a picnic and his mother was getting the lunch ready for a surprise trip to the lake. Maybe she needed an official taster , he thought, so he threw his legs over the edge of the bed and walked down the hall to the kitchen. The fabulous smells encircled him, and he envisioned the kitchen table covered with cookies cooling on the rack.

As Billy entered the doorway to the kitchen, whoever was in the kitchen stood facing the window unable to see Billy walk in, or hear his bare feet softly sneaking across the tile floor. Maybe he could grab a cookie before he was seen. Just as he was about to reach the table, which did have chocolate chip cookies on display, a voice suddenly spoke to him, one he didn’t recognize.

You’re about to taste the ultimate breakfast dish, Billy. I’m trying to decide on a name for it. The person speaking turned and smiled broadly, showing what seemed like all of his teeth. "Sit down, say grace, and you can be the one to name your new favorite breakfast."

Billy stood frozen in his tracks next to the table. This was not his mother, father, or anyone he knew at all. Nervously, he summoned enough courage to ask, Who are you? How did you get in here? What are you doing in our kitchen? My favorite breakfast, or anytime food is jelly beans, and you should know my mom won’t let me eat them early in the day, and certainly not for breakfast.

The stranger stepped down from the little step stool. He was a very small, slender man with an unusual face. His forehead was very high, and his chin made his face look extra long. His eyes were noticeably green, and they seemed to look straight into Billy’s soul. He wore one small earring.

The voice was soothing and kind. "I’m Alfred, and I’m fixing your breakfast. Crawled through the dog door because I forgot my key, and yes, I know you love jelly beans."

This was incredible. It couldn’t possibly be happening. Billy decided to play along with whoever it was. "Does Mom know you’re in here? You know you’re making a bigger mess than Dad does. I’ll just bet you’re going to be in big trouble, Alfred. What is really going on here?"

I’m waiting for you to be seated, say grace, try my amazing concoction, and then name it.

Alfred was direct, so Billy complied, and after a few minutes he started making little noises of pleasure.Um. Uh-huh. Hmm. He savored each bite, pausing to close his eyes and chew, then resumed the comments. I think I’d call it a jelly bean sandwich or a PB and JB sandwich.

So, what do you think about the peanut butter? Does it enhance the jelly beans or interfere with them? Alfred’s green eyes sparkled with delight. Would you like another one, made just the same or a little different? Maybe with a few chocolate chips?

One would think they were sampling wine and cheese. The interaction between Alfred and Billy was beginning to take on a personality all its own.

Thoughtfully, Billy answered, Wow! I’ll have more. I need something to drink, too.

Quickly, another sandwich appeared. It was beautifully crafted of white bread smeared with peanut butter, sprinkled with jelly beans, and folded, keeping the jelly beans inside.

The mystery kitchen guest suggested Billy have a soda instead of milk. That would be the perfect accompaniment. After five sandwiches and four sodas, the eight-year-old was so full he wondered if he would pop like a balloon. One can just imagine the loud belch following all that food. Alfred looked very pleased. He had made a new friend. He would feel very comfortable climbing through the dog door, and he wondered if tomorrow would be too soon. The more he thought about it, the more he thought he might wait a day, maybe two days, and then his friend Billy would be eager to try another recipe.

Better take a few cookies for a snack later. Get extra for your friend Martin next door. I’ll just put them in this little bag. You don’t need to tell him who made them, okay? That can be our secret.

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The basketball Billy felt in his stomach did not disappear with a couple of hours of sleep. He could hear the rest of the family talking, maybe in the kitchen. Ugh! The kitchen. Just the sound of the word made him uncomfortable. He wondered what his mother had thought of the mess Alfred had left. From the feeling in his mid-section he knew it had not been a dream. I’m sure I don’t need to show up for breakfast. Maybe they won’t miss me. With that thought, he drifted back to sleep.

Much later that day, Billy’s mom came in his room. "Billy James Randall, it is late afternoon. You’ve had no breakfast, no lunch, and you need to get ready for the scout trip to the lake. You volunteered to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the boys. By the way, someone needs to go to the store for more peanut butter. Our jar is almost empty. Someone must have snuck in for a late night snack."

Billy was unsure whether to admit he had anything to do with the lack of peanut butter, but he thought better of it because then he’d have to figure out how to explain the state of the kitchen. Instead, he agreed to getting up and going to the store. He thought, Had the whole incident with Alfred actually happened? It was fun, eating anything I could swallow, but a second time? It probably won’t happen again. Nobody would believe me if I tried to explain, not even my friend next door.

Smelling more peanut butter while he made the sandwiches made him feel sick, but he was determined to make the best of the situation. Maybe someone else would make bologna sandwiches, and he could eat those. Even that didn’t sound like a good alternative.

Why was he in this mess? He wasn’t really at fault, was he? Wasn’t he the victim of, circumstances beyond his control? He wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but he’d heard it somewhere. I’m only eight years old, and a good kid, so how could eating get me in trouble?

Happily, the menu for the campout had several sandwich choices, and by that time, Billy was a little hungry. Everything was going to be all right, well, almost everything. His friend Martin brought a bag of jelly beans for them to eat after lights out. That made Billy think of the cookies Alfred had given him, and he wasn’t sure where he had put them. He was so full and tired, he had no memory of where he had laid them, but maybe they were on the dresser. Oh swell, now he had something else to worry his mind. What if mom found them? Maybe they disappeared with the clutter in the kitchen. His mom never mentioned the rack of cookies or any of the baking utensils. For some reason he didn’t want any jelly beans tonight.

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Alfred was not there for several days. For reasons he could not explain to himself, Billy was a little disappointed. He might never eat the same menu, but, he had to admit, the idea of eating anything you wanted, even in the middle of the night, was exciting. All was normal until Sunday morning. No one was awake. Even Billy was asleep until he felt someone touch his shoulder. He sat up immediately. Alfred leaned over him, right in his face. He almost screamed, but Alfred whispered for him to be quiet. What’s your second most favorite food, Billy? Chicken tenders? How about a little snack? They’re still hot!

Oh no! I’m not even safe when sleeping, Billy thought. However, chicken tenders, just a few, fresh and hot, that’s hard to resist. OK, but just a few, and you can’t leave a mess in the kitchen. He felt in control. He had given Alfred a warning, just like an adult would.

They tasted so good, especially dipped in sauce, that he ate a platter of them. Alfred was delighted to have his friend enjoy his cooking. He also was careful not to leave any sign that he had been there and left effortlessly through the dog door. Billy mused that this could be a pleasant happening, every so often. His only concern seemed to be that maybe his mother would have chicken tenders for Sunday lunch, which she did.

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Several visits from Alfred had come and gone without any problem, except Billy never felt like eating afterward. His family had mentioned he was gaining a few pounds, and even casually commented on his lack of an appetite. It didn’t seem to be a big deal, so he ignored them. What he thought a little spooky was that Alfred would appear in unexpected places, such as in his room at night. He even brought food in the bedroom, and they both ate by flashlight. He really wanted to tell Martin so he could participate, but he wasn’t sure he could trust his friend to keep it secret. Alfred agreed with him.

Early one morning Billy was enjoying a new pancake concoction when Alfred asked if he ever rode a bicycle. Who doesn’t? I have one in the garage. With a little encouragement, he took Alfred in the garage and showed it to him.

Why don’t we go for a ride together? Alfred also suggested they go early in order to be back before anyone missed him. Billy hesitated because he didn’t want to have someone on the back of his bike. His secret friend carefully worded the next phrase. Martin left his bike outside last night, and his dad will be upset with him, so, why don’t you ride his, I’ll ride yours, and we can go a few blocks and be back before anyone gets up. Then we can put the bike away for him.

The idea stunned Billy. They would actually be taking his friend’s bike. Billy’s dad would be angry, and even Billy didn’t feel quite right about it. However, they would be doing Martin a favor by putting it away. Martin’s garage had a side door they could use if they were very quiet. Billy thought for a while, and then agreed, just this once, to ride bikes. It could be very cool to have a grown-up riding with him.

Everything went very smoothly, including putting the bike away and returning to clean up the kitchen. Billy felt a little smug having another secret. Alfred was indeed proving an interesting friend, and he was more fun than kids his own age. He would be a little afraid to ride alone so early, but Alfred was older and made him feel safe.

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Billy’s mother, Janice, was getting frustrated with her husband who had been tossing and turning for what seemed like hours. Something bothering you, honey?

Luke sighed and turned toward her. I don’t know how to tell you, Janice, but there could be a problem with Billy.

What are you talking about? What sort of problem?

He took a deep breath and tried to assemble his thoughts. What did he actually know? His pause left her to imagine the worst, but she hadn’t been aware of anything out of the ordinary.

Billy, he began, seems to have a new friend. Now that didn’t sound like anything alarming. He’s an older man. I heard Billy talking in the kitchen early one morning, and I stayed on the hallway side of the doorway. This guy was cooking, and they were chatting casually.

Janice sat up and stared at him. What? Have you been dreaming? A man in our kitchen with Billy? Is it someone we know?

There was another long pause before he could