Ray of Hope

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  “Hey.” She heard a voice from someone standing at the top of the bank behind her.

  She turned around to look. “Go away,” she said, then turned back around.

  “I’m sorry,” Andre said. “I’m sorry, okay?”

  “Why don’t you just leave me alone? I’m not bothering you.”

  “I’m not trying to bother you. How did you manage to get down there so quickly and easily, anyway?”

  She looked back to make sure he saw her when she rolled her eyes at him.

  “Come on. Quit being difficult,” Andre said, trying to strategically place his feet in places safely so he could get where she was without sliding, falling, or rolling down.

  “That cord right there,” she said, pointing at the vine.

  “You mean this vine?”

  “See, that’s why I don’t care to be bothered with you. Cord … vine … whatever.”

  He grabbed the vine and slowly walked down. “You’re right. I can be too smart for my own good sometimes.” He stood above her. “This is nice,” he said, looking around.

  “Yeah. I’ve always loved it here.”

  “You like nature?”

  “Nope. I just like the way I feel when I’m out here. It’s … peaceful… serene.”

  “Yeah. I have a place sort of like this over at my grandmother’s. There’s no water near it like this, but it’s peaceful. It’s a place where I can go out and feel like it’s just me and the Lord, spending time together.”

  Sahara bent her head back. “Please don’t start with church stuff again. I really don’t want to hear it.”

  “I’m not talking church stuff. I’m talking about a relationship with God. Have you ever thought about that, Sahara? I mean really thought about what that means?” Andre sat down beside her.

  Sahara picked up a twig off the ground and started breaking it up into little bitty pieces and chunking it. “Not really.”

  Andre glanced over her way. “Think about it. There’s this big powerful God, right? He’s so huge that He starts speaking words, and the next thing you know … the things He’s speaking start showing up for real. The heavens and the earth. And when I say heavens, I mean it with an s. There are galaxies beyond galaxies, farther than man will ever be able to see. And God did it all. And to think, He created us.”

  Sahara looked over at him.

  Andre smiled at her. “We were so important to God that He made you and me. Look at your hand.” He held out his own hand and began to look at it. “Look at the details of every single part of it.” He reached over and took her hand. Sahara pulled back. “I’m not going to do anything to you.” He took her hand again and held it, palm up, next to his. “See. Look at how alike, yet different, our hands are.”

  Sahara looked at her hand. “I know. No two fingerprints are alike,” she said.

  “Wow, check you out,” Andre said, his hand still lightly touching hers.

  “I’m a lot smarter than I pretend to be sometimes,” she said.

  “I know. I know pretty much what you’re going through.” He nodded at her.

  Sahara snatched her hand away from his. “What do you want? Why do you keep following me?”

  “Because I think you’re special. But I guess even more to the point, because God thinks you’re special.”

  Sahara laughed. “Oh, I get it. You’re God’s gift to women, and so you’re letting me know that I’m special because you’re giving me the time of day. Well, isn’t that special?!”

  Andre leaned back a little. “No. Not where I was going at all. God thinks you’re special because He made you. For Him, just Him creating you is enough to make you special. He fashioned and designed you. God just doesn’t want you to continue to sell yourself short. So, regardless of how much I don’t want to be bothered with someone who obviously doesn’t want to be bothered with me, it’s not about me. God created you for a purpose. And you need to know and to understand that.”

  Sahara looked up at the sun playing peekaboo through the wooded trees. And for just a second, she felt as though God were pecking her softly all over her face with sun kisses while playing a special song just for her, using the trickling, calming sounds of the stream.

  Chapter 20

  And she said unto them, Get you to the mountain, lest the pursuers meet you; and hide yourselves there three days, until the pursuers be returned: and afterward may ye go your way.

  —Joshua 2:16

  “Are you planning on staying out here long?” Andre asked as he got to his feet, grabbing the vine to help him stay up.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Sahara said. “I know my way back to the house.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you do. I just don’t like the idea of you being out here, this far away from your grandmother’s house, by yourself,” Andre said. “Why don’t you come on back with me?”

  “I’m fine, thank you. I’ll be along shortly.”

  “Sahara—”

  “Listen, Andre. I enjoyed the short talk and all, but don’t go getting this twisted. You’re not my type at all. Okay?”

  “I never said I was. I happen to have someone I’m talking to already.”

  “Then why are you here bothering me instead of trying to figure out how to be there with her?”

  “Look, all I was going to say to you is to be careful. That’s it.”

  She smiled at him. “Well, I’ve done just fine taking care of myself all these years without your help. I believe I’ll be just fine when you leave me alone.”

  Andre pulled himself back up to the top of the bank, using the vine, and left Sahara. She picked up a pebble and threw it at the stream. She loved hearing the plop or blip when the rock hit the water. She picked up a few more pebbles and repeated the exercise.

  “Hey,” a male voice said.

  Startled, she turned quickly, looked up, then just as quickly turned back around.

  “So, you’re not going to respond?”

  “Junebug, are you spying on me?”

  He laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “Then if you’re not spying on me, why is it you seem to show up here whenever I come down here?”

  He started down and immediately began to slide. “Whoa!” he yelled as he fell, grabbing Sahara to break his fall, then held on to her.

  She shrugged him off of her. “Should have used the cord,” she said with a smirk.

  “What cord?” Junebug asked, dusting his hands off.

  She pointed. “That vine.”

  He merely gazed at her. “I declare: you look more beautiful each time I see you.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. And I know beautiful when I see it. You really should be gracing magazine covers or something.”

  Sahara blushed. “That’s what I want to be—a model.”

  “Well, you’ve got the goods,” he said, looking at her as though she were a mouthwatering dish being served on a platter. “That’s the real deal. Maybe I can hook you up with the right folks and see if we can’t make that happen.”

  She twisted her mouth. “Like you really can do that.”

  “Don’t underestimate my reach. Just because I’m from the country doesn’t mean my reach is limited to this place alone. In fact, I have some contacts in California. I’ll put some feelers out there and see what comes back attached.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  He scaled her body with his eyes. “Absolutely. But the question is: what are you willing to do for me?”

  She grunted, then laughed. “Do for you?”

  “Yeah.” He leaned down to kiss her.

  Sahara turned away. “I’ve not gotten anything yet. So, I guess that means I don’t owe you anything until after you’ve delivered something.”

  “Ooh, check you out. Quite the businesswoman. I can see you’re going to be a tough negotiator. Look out, world: Sahara is coming!” He tried to kiss her again.

  She shoved him away, this time harder. “Stop,
” she said.

  “Stop?” Junebug grinned. “You don’t really want me to stop, now, do you?”

  “If I say stop, then that means I really want you to stop. I don’t play games.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, right. You women love to play games. You love to tease, to egg us on. But I’m not mad at ‘cha. I like a good game myself.” He pulled her in to him.

  Sahara struggled and pulled herself out of his grasp. She stood up, grabbed the vine, and started back up the bank.

  “Hey! Where you going?”

  “Back to the house,” Sahara said.

  He scrambled to stand up. “Don’t leave me.” He hurriedly grabbed her.

  “Let go,” she said. “Get off of me. You’re going to make me break the vine.”

  He just held on that much tighter.

  “Let go of me!” Sahara said as she tried to walk back up the bank using the vine with him groping her as he continued to hold on to her.

  “Let her go!” Andre said from the top of the bank.

  Junebug looked up. “What? Mind your own business.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Andre said. “So let her go like she asked you to.”

  “Look, youngblood. There’s nothing to see here. She and I have this under control. I’m just trying to get from down here just like she’s trying to.”

  “Then be a man and let the lady go first.” Andre stretched his hand out to Sahara.

  Sahara yanked her body out of Junebug’s grip. She walked back up the bank, taking Andre’s hand when she was close to the top.

  “Now, throw the vine back down here,” Junebug said, his hand stretched toward her.

  Sahara slung the vine back at him and stomped off.

  Andre trotted past the tall weeds, trying to catch up with her. “Hey. Wait up.”

  Sahara glanced over her shoulder, then back around, refusing to even slow down her stride.

  Chapter 21

  And the men said unto her, We will be blameless of this thine oath which thou hast made us swear.

  —Joshua 2:17

  Ma Ray was in the kitchen gathering the leftovers together for Tootsie to take home. She just happened to be looking out of the kitchen window to the backyard and saw Sahara jogging as she got closer to the house. Andre was taking long strides as though he was trying to hurry and catch up with her. Crystal and Aaron had come inside a few minutes earlier and were out on the front porch swing. Sahara flung open the door, then saw Ma Ray and Tootsie.

  “What’s wrong?” Ma Ray asked.

  “Nothing,” Sahara said, and continued past her without breaking her stride.

  Andre tapped on the door. “Come on,” Ma Ray said.

  “Which way did Sahara go?” Andre asked.

  “What’s going on with her?” Ma Ray asked him.

  Andre twisted his bottom lip a little. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

  “Did you two have an argument or something?” Tootsie asked.

  “No, ma’am.” He released a sigh. “I promise, Grandma … Ma Ray, I would never do anything to hurt her. Not on purpose.” He looked at his grandmother. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes. In fact, we just finished putting some of the leftovers in the box for you boys to carry out to the car. I was just about to call for you,” Tootsie said.

  “Fine. I’ll take it out for you,” Andre said.

  “Are you sure everything is okay?” Ma Ray asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “I hope you know my granddaughter doesn’t mean to do things to offend. I know you’re trying to be nice to her, but she’s been having a difficult time of things of late,” Ma Ray said.

  “It’s okay. I’m used to it.” Andre picked up the box. “But never let it be said that I didn’t try.” He walked out of the kitchen with the box.

  “Hold up. I’ll get the front door for you,” Ma Ray said, trying to rush ahead of him. She opened the front door. That also gave her a chance to check on Crystal and Aaron. They were playing the game where they would count to three as they said, “Rock … paper … scissors,” then freeze with their fingers and hands in some position. She hadn’t seen anybody play that game in a long time.

  Crystal sat up straight when she looked over and saw Ma Ray standing there.

  “It’s time to go?” Aaron asked, disappointment lacing his words.

  “Yep,” Tootsie said, coming up from behind Ma Ray. “It’s time to go.”

  “But you’re welcome to come and visit again,” Ma Ray said to Aaron. “Just as long as I’m here when you come.”

  Aaron began to smile. “Thanks.” He stood up. Crystal stood up as well. They walked slowly toward the steps. “I’ll call you,” Aaron said.

  Crystal smiled. “I hope you’re not just saying that and then you chicken out.”

  “I promise. I’ll call you.” He grinned, then squeezed her hand.

  Chapter 22

  Behold, when we come into the land, thou shalt bind this line of scarlet thread in the window which thou didst let us down by: and thou shalt bring thy father, and thy mother, and thy brethren, and all thy father’s household, home unto thee.

  —Joshua 2:18

  Aaron called Crystal just like he’d said he would. They’d talked for about an hour, mostly about life and what they both wanted out of it. Crystal told Sahara she felt comfortable talking to Aaron. He came over to see Crystal on Tuesday. Crystal had told Sahara how much she really liked Aaron. Sahara told her she wasn’t impressed. So when Aaron showed up on the porch around six that evening with flowers for Crystal that he’d picked from his grandmother’s garden, Sahara couldn’t take it anymore.

  “I’m going outside,” Sahara said to Ma Ray as she passed through the kitchen, out through the back door.

  Sahara knew Ma Ray wanted to protest, but she didn’t slow down enough for her to get started. Ma Ray had been trying to talk to Sahara since Sunday night when things had quieted down. Sahara didn’t want to talk. All she wanted was to get back to her real life and hook up with the people she liked hanging out with. Upon Ma Ray’s insistence, she’d met the pastor’s seventeen-year-old daughter at church on Sunday. Ma Ray thought it might help Sahara to make a friend there around her age.

  Sahara’s first thought was that she definitely didn’t want to be friends with a preacher’s kid. You never knew what you’d getwith one of them. They were either the most boringly religious folks you ever want to meet or the chief priests among the sinners. Either way, she wasn’t trying to be friends or get to know anyone here.

  She walked to her special spot … past the tree she knew so well, past wildflowers and the tall weeds. Grabbing the vine, she scaled down the bank. Instead of sitting in her normal spot, this time she went even farther down. She really wanted to be as close to the stream as she could get and still be able to climb back up the embankment.

  “Hey, where you going?”

  Sahara stopped and looked up. “Junebug, what are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you,” he said. “I got something for you.”

  “What?”

  “Come back up some more and I’ll show you,” he said.

  Sahara looked down at the beckoning stream, then back at Junebug.

  “Come on.” He smiled, then nodded. “Come on.”

  Sahara pulled herself back closer to the top. He came down and met her. “What do you have for me?” Sahara asked.

  They sat on the ground together. He pulled out a flask of liquor. She shook her head. “Ma Ray would smell that on my breath before I even stepped up on her back porch good,” Sahara said.

  He unscrewed the top, took several swallows, then screwed the top back on and stuck the flask back in the front of his shirt pocket. Junebug then smiled, pulled out a ziplock bag with white, homemade rolled sticks, and held one of the sticks out to her.

  “What makes you think I want that, either?” she said, nodding at the marijuana joint.

  He continued holding the stick
out to her. After staring at it for a minute, she finally took it.

  He smiled. “I hope you can see that there’s plenty more where that came from.” He shook the bag, then put it back up. “Plenty. I got other stuff, too, if you’re interested in some stronger things. You just let old Junebug know what you want and, baby”—he scanned her body—“it’s yours.”

  “What do you want, Junebug?” Sahara asked.

  “I already told you. I like you.” He lit a joint and took a drag. “I want you to be happy. You’re not like these chicken heads and gold diggers around here. Everybody here wants something, but nobody wants to do anything for it. Even those holier-than-thou folks at these churches want something. I’m talking about from the benchwarmers to the preachers. They’re all looking for something. Reverends and pastors pimping and pushing while so many of them try to look down on folks like me. Like what they’re doing is somehow better than what I’m doing. At least I’m honest and up-front about what I do. If you want to feel high, I got what you’re looking for, but it’s going to cost you. I’m fair with my price. I don’t ever try and take everything you got. Say you’re looking for love; I understand that. And I can help arrange something without you totally having to sell your soul to get it.” He held the lit joint out to her.

  Sahara looked at it but didn’t take it. She looked down at the ground. “Why do you say that about church folks?”

  “What? That they’re pimping and pushing?” Junebug picked up a rock and chunked it. He then took another hit from his joint. “When I was going to church, all I ever heard from every one of them preachers was something about money. If you loved God, you had to prove it by bringing your money to them. If you wanted to be blessed, you had to bring them some money to get your blessing. And if you really wanted to be blessed, they told the story about that widow woman, you know the woman that gave all she had. But what really gets me is how so many of the preachers tell you that if you don’t pay your tithes and offerings that you’re going to be cursed and all kinds of trouble is going to come down on you. Sounds like the way a whole lot of operations I’m familiar with work. If you want your establishment to be protected, then you have to pay a price to be sure nothing happens to you and yours. If you don’t pay, well… let’s just say, stuff happens.”