Gifts

2011

Foreword

I like to read.   In fact, I read a lot.   What do I read exactly?   Pretty much anything, including fantasy, horror, historical, vampire, science fiction, silly, mystery, and sappy writings. After a while though, I begin to feel like I’ve seen this before. You know, the same story but a different setting.

When my mother began writing this book, I thought okay, what setting will she use for this story and will it be something new. Boy, was it!   She was always a good and creative writer but in this story she was able to throw in a twist or two. On top of that, she combined faith with religion and with romance all in one story.   I enjoyed reading this because it made me feel scared, suspenseful, and joyful.   It is not your typical story, which is what makes it so good, and it is not your typical view of the world.   Her descriptions are vivid and her characters are real.   I almost felt like I was there in the town.   Prepare to be disturbed, excited, and marveled at what happens in Sutters Junction.

Dr. Karen Dickens

October 2011

Preface

At 70 years of age, I have started another career. Having been gifted by God with many talents, I have tried to use them all. Retirement is not a career I take to kindly. I have been an art teacher in the public school system, a management consultant, a public speaker, a wife, mother and housekeeper. I spent two years on the road driving from Cincinnati, Ohio to Columbus, Ohio (109 miles each way) as an older student to earn a Masters Degree in Social Work when the oldest of three children was only 11 years old.

My husband and I successfully raised three young adults; Daphne who has an MBA degree from the Wharton School of Business, Floyd III has a law degree from The Ohio State University School of Law, and Karen has a Ph.D. degree in Physical Chemistry from Northwestern University. They all obtained undergrad degrees from Howard University in Washington, DC.

I have been a public speaker and with my husband, created and operated a management consulting business. We wrote an extremely successful management book entitled The Black Manager:   Making It In the Corporate World which was published in 1982 by the American Management Association; the book was revised in 1991. While the book is no longer in print, it continues to sell briskly in the on-line market.

When my husband and I retired, I began to draw and paint pictures, which has always been my first love. My husband reacquainted himself with his love of photography and woodworking. He often incorporated my poetry - yes, I have written poems since I was a child - into some of his nature photographs. We then developed a web site - www.artisticfinds.etsy.com - to sell our hand made items. Due to the effects of a bad economy, it is not a good time to sell artwork. So, as a frustrated retiree, I looked around to see how I could be engaged in something else that would be enjoyable.

Since people are reading a lot of electronic books, I decided to become a fiction writer. This is my first novel and I have several others on the drawing board. I sincerely hope that readers will enjoy my tales. I have officially started my new career as an e-book author.

Jacqueline Dickens

October 2011

Introduction

People of God recognize the gifts He gives them and often count the blessings they receive. Many Christians acknowledge that there are angels and that they have a hierarchy in heaven. Occasionally, God sends angels to deliver a blessing to people, to comfort them, to help them or to give them gifts. However, people rarely acknowledge that Satan has the same hierarchical arrangement in hell. What of the hierarchy there?

Let me warn you! Never take a gift from the devil or any of his minions. There is always a hidden price tag; the price is always high. You will never want to pay it back. That is what our heroes, Jesse, Annie, Rev. Terry French, Lilly, and Louise found out to their horror. In the small country town of Sutters Junction, people are receiving gifts from a new merchant just trying to drum up business and make friends with his new customers! All of a sudden the sheriff has his hands filled with strange occurrences that would make a strong man sick to his stomach. What is going on? This small town explodes with the mystery of unexplained deaths and centuries of secrets. Come along and visit Sutters Junction, but don’t accept any store promotional gifts. They could prove deadly!

GIFTS

JACQUELINE DICKENS

It was early evening in Sutters Junction when the large semi truck drove up Main Street and parked in front of the empty store. No one noticed at first because it was dinnertime in the small village. No one saw it except Jesse Blunt. He saw the truck because, unlike everyone else, he was dining on his usual supper of cheap wine while sitting across the street in the doorway of the town’s feed store. He liked the store’s entryway best for lounging. The wide recessed three steps up to the door had carpeting and the roof’s overhang kept the weather at bay. Besides, Buddy Swift, the good ole boy, always closed for supper so he could go home to eat like all his neighbors. Most evenings, though, Buddy would reopen about 7:30pm until 10:00pm. If you forgot supplies earlier or just wanted to have a friend to jaw jack with, Buddy Swift could supply both. Jesse would be gone by the time Buddy got back to the store. War hero or not, Mr. Swift wasn’t gonna let no damn drunk lay around in front of his store, harassing his friends and customers.

Git off that hooch and git a job. You ought to at least be able to clean toilets!

Jesse was not going to put himself through that kind of talk, so he always made sure Buddy was not around when he curled up on the man’s store steps. Jesse knew he’d kill the man if he ever pushed him too far. Jesse had seen enough killing to last anyone several lifetimes. He was an only child in a small town where one’s future was very limited. Jesse’s mother was an elementary school teacher and his father was one of the town’s three paid firemen. They were one of the town’s most respected families, but Jesse was bored. He did not want to teach and he thought it would be more fun to set fires than to put them out. Jesse saw himself as a badass. So, when Jesse turned 18, instead of college, he chose the Marines. At the very beginning he pushed himself to live up to the image of the perfect Marine. He was very serious about his training. He was smart, driven and dedicated. Intelligence was Jesse’s strong suit, which made it easy for him to pass any test they threw at him. Ultimately, it was his being so intelligent that ended up being his downfall.

Jesse worked hard, studied hard and qualified for Special Forces. He had some romantic view of being a movie commando. Movies may imitate life, but life is so much more brutal. Jesse joined the Marine Reconnaissance unit just in time to be employed to Iraq and then later to Afghanistan.

The Reconnaissance units consist of specially trained, volunteer Marines. They are trained to operate independently and undercover as a self-contained group in enemy territory while conducting special operations. Each group contains a communications specialist, medical personnel, a weapons specialist, and soldiers specially trained in intelligence gathering. Although they take food along on missions, they are also taught to live off the land. Jesse was assigned the job of intelligence specialist in his group and was an outstanding performer.

Then his parents died in the house fire. Jesse was in enemy territory under deep cover when it happened and could not be reached. His group was ordered to operate under radio silence. Jesse was not told that his parents were killed until he returned to his forward operating base. By that time his parents had been buried.

That was the last straw for Jesse. He had held on through the bombing of the little children, picking up the mangled bodies of his buddies, the treachery of the enemy, the need to kill to stay alive, the stupidity of his own command and had looked into the face of the worst of humanity. He had been too good at his job and it had taken its toll on him emotionally. When his folks had needed him he was off somewhere playing cowboy. He finally left at the end of his term of enlistment. He left regretfully and with honor. He was needed at home. Bullshit! He had enough of death and guns. He just wanted to lose himself in a bottle and regret that he was not even able to help his own parents stay alive.

Just before 7:00pm, Jesse would stumble over to the park, about a mile down from the center of town. There he could sleep off his liquid meal in peace. Nobody would bother him; not even the police who considered Jesse part of the town’s charm since he never bothered anybody. It was a waste of resources to keep jailing him. Besides, Annie, the town librarian, had taken him on as her social work case.

Just leave him be, she had told the sheriff. I’ll keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.

And she had. She felt bad that he had gotten such a rough deal when he came home from serving his country. His folks had died in a house fire that he sort of blamed himself for, not being there instead of half a world away killing people he had no grudge against.   He should have stayed home; not joined the reconnaissance team in the Marines. Folks said it was the worst fire they had ever seen. Couldn’t he have gotten leave or something? Didn’t the service have some way they let men come home, especially with him being their only child? The people in this small town just did not understand. How could they? Their world was closed to how bad it could get in other places in the world.

So, why did he ever decide to come home, now, a lot of people asked each other?

Most people’s answer was simply, Probably had no other place to go.

Annie’s enlightened answer was, Perhaps this is how he punishes himself for not being here when his family needed him!

Annie Beecham was half right. The missing piece was there was little call for work for professional killers. He had an education, but no degree from any college that looked favorably on his chosen profession. Today, Jesse was there to see the tall, slim, solemn man get out of the cab of the big truck. He was alone. The man stepped down carefully, took a deep breath and slammed the cab door. Jesse didn’t move. He watched as the stranger stood and surveyed up and down the quiet street. After a moment the man walked around the back. In the quiet, Jesse could hear what sounded like a key rattling a lock and the squeaky hinges of a door opening. Lights came on, sliding across the sidewalk. The man was in the store. A new merchant, thought Jesse, taking another swig of dinner.

Jesse watched the man return to the truck and unlatch the heavy truck doors. He pulled out a large dolly and it hit the pavement with a loud clang. Jesse didn’t move, not even jump at the sudden loud noise. It felt at that moment that his behind was glued to the carpeted concrete step he was sitting on. His head began to hurt and he felt queasiness in the pit of his stomach. Jesse thought, something wasn’t right! Something felt off. The tall man made two trips into the store with the dolly piled high with as many boxes of stuff as could be safely moved. On the third trip the man hesitated before rolling his wares into the store. Jesse felt the man knew he was there all the time even though he had not looked Jesse’s way. Jesse moved his back to the wall as close as he could, trying to disappear into the encroaching evening shadows. The tall stranger hesitated, stepped away from the dolly and again surveyed up and down the empty streets of Sutters Junction.

This time, however, his eyes fell on Jesse in the doorway of Swift’s Hardware and Feed Store. Jesse froze as their eyes met. The stranger said nothing, did not even acknowledge that he saw Jesse. The seconds their eyes met felt like an hour to Jesse. Jesse felt a cold horror unlike anything he had ever experienced in his life. It was worst than the mangled bodies of the children he had had to step over in Afghanistan and Iraq. It was worst than having to help shovel up the guts of his fellow soldiers blown apart on the battlefield. It was far worst than having to negotiate around the land mines waiting to blow you to hell.   This was the fear that would come if you were looking past the gates of hell. The cold fear reached to the marrow of your bones. Without speaking, Jesse nervously licked his lips, broke eye contact with great effort, clutched what was left in his bottle and ran for his very life. He headed for the park and the comfort of the trees. Once he could stop trembling, he would head across the street to the big shed in back of the library. Annie, at the library, let him live there among the old books that used to be stored there. He had a bed, an icebox, a hot plate and lots of old books to read. What more could a broken down old veteran need? He was finally having DT’s, (he hoped). He would go to bed and sleep this off!

The next morning, there was a sign up over the once empty store. MARVELOUS WORKS, the sign said. In smaller letters underneath was written, toys, antiques, and other useful everyday items. Inside, there were boxes, tables, chairs, sofas and assorted papers strewn about. On the door was a little sign hanging to inform potential customers that the store, while closed now, would be open for business at the end of the week.

It was Tuesday morning. Whoever they were, the townspeople said, they had a lot of work ahead of them to make the end of the week.

Has anyone seen them? Carrie Ann at the Pharmacy two doors down from Swift’s asked.

Carrie Ann stepped down from the step she was standing on behind the Pharmacy pick-up window. She was a short and pudgy woman with mousey brown hair. Her saving grace was her sense of humor, so everyone generally liked her. She pulled a bottle from the shelf of many bottles, looked at the label and returned to the window stepping back on the stool to give her better reach over the counter.

I think it’s just one man, Carrie Ann. I ain’t seen nobody, else. He’s a tall one, he is. And skinny, too!   Josh Miller said this while picking up his latest prescription for high blood pressure. I can’t for the life of me see what somebody would be wanting to sell in this little town that we don’t already have. Josh was one of the town’s old-timer’s. Maybe he moved here to find hisself a wife, and Josh winked at Carrie Ann. Carrie Ann gave a hearty laugh and patted herself on her very generous behind.

If he’s skinny like you say, he wouldn’t be able to handle all this! They both laughed at her gesture and Josh said with a touch of wistfulness in his voice, Lordy, if I was just 40 years younger, girl. You better stop flirting with me, Josh Miller before the doctor has to up your blood pressure medicine, Carrie Ann shot back with humor.

Of course, word got around fast. It always does in a small-town. The people living in Sutters Junction found all kinds of reasons to pass by the new store. Few people got to see much because before noon, the proprietor had hung drapes across the windows. He, however, made no move to come out and meet anyone. Even the mayor had no idea where he came from. Nobody had been in his office. There were no papers filed. No bills of sale came across his desk. Neither Peaches or her husband, Conrad had told him about any recent sales from their real estate business, and they always let the Mayor, Hiram Dunwoody, know when new people came to town to look at property. Hiram had to make his own assessment of future incomes and his cut of taxes. There were no signs of where this person came from.

The truck was gone, where? Nobody saw it anywhere, it’s like it disappeared. Also, there were no strange cars in town. The counsel had their clerk try to find out who owned that particular piece of property, but records were mysteriously missing. Even going through the county clerks records, there was no clue of ownership. As weird as this was, there was nothing to do but wait and see what happened next. Perhaps the people at the post office could keep an eye out for the mail for the new store. Much later, that plan ended up a bust. Over the weeks of the presence of the new business, no mail was either sent or received.

People tried to see around the drapes and search for cracks to see inside. Nothing! Soon the store window became covered with greasy fingerprints and foreheads. There were noises, of course! Sounds of furniture being dragged around, doors opening and closing. A couple of people heard a crash, as if a glass object had fallen and broken. But there were no sounds of voices. Looking in the back of the store yielded no clues. There were no windows to the door back there and no boxes piled up. Even the dumpster was empty. Where was he putting his trash? Could he be somehow hauling it away late at night? That should have been a clue to people that something was off, but the small town had small trusting minds. This was not a place that anything out of the ordinary ever happened. That was about to change!

........................................................

Johnny Pitts and Andy Johnson, both nine years old, had been best friends since kindergarten. Today, they both headed straight to the new store the minute school let out. Several of the guys biked with them but continued on home seeing as nothing had changed in front of the store. Only Johnny and Andy rode up to the draped window to check it out once more. These little guys were determined.

What do you think is in there, Andy asked his buddy?

Johnny, with his nose pressed firmly against the glass replied for what seemed the hundredth time, You kin read the sign same as me. It says we’ll see by the end of the week, knuckle-head!

Yeah, but does that mean Friday or Saturday? Is it in two days or three?

How the frig would I know. We got to wait like everybody else. I want to be real early if it’s Saturday. Sometimes, new stores give away free stuff if you are one of the first people to come into the place.

And how do you know that, Andy shot back? From a comic book?

Everybody knows that, crinklebutt! Where you been, in a cave? The boys laughed.

Andy’s face lit up with expectation. Johnny didn’t reply, just shifted his viewpoint on the window to the very edge of the hanging drapery again, still trying to