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Ray of Hope
Ray of Hope Read online
Also by Vanessa Davis Griggs
The Truth Is the Light
Goodness and Mercy
Practicing What You Preach
If Memory Serves
Strongholds
Blessed Trinity
Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.
Ray of Hope
VANESSA DAVIS
GRIGGS
All copyrighted material within is
Attributor Protected.
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2011 by Vanessa Davis Griggs
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Special Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018, Attn. Special Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.
Dafina and the Dafina logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-6778-8
eISBN-10: 0-7582-6778-9
First Printing: January 2011
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Printed in the United States of America
To those grandmothers who hold things down
when necessary—refusing to allow the next
generation to be taken away or lost
Contents
Also by Vanessa Davis Griggs
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
A READING GROUP GUIDE
Acknowledgments
I would like to begin here the way I begin every single day of my life: acknowledging the one true and living God who holds every aspect of my life in His hands.
This book is a departure from the characters of my previous novels. For those of you who find yourself a little nostalgic hearing this, let me assure you that everything is going to be all right. A great many people who’ve read The Truth Is the Light have expressed a desire and hope for a follow-up book. Well, for now, that book has been put on hold. I’ve always set myself to give you my best. Whatever I write, my desire is to do that and that God will always be glorified. You’ll find the same commitment with this newest saga, entitled Ray of Hope.
To the wonderful folks at Kensington / Dafina, starting from the very top all the way down, I give my heartfelt thanks for you continuing to believe in me and my gift of stories. It’s truly a blessing, not just for me, but for those who are being touched by what God is bringing through me. With all of the struggles so many have endured during these difficult economic times, it is an honor that you have tapped me to continue, for now, to do what I do. To my editor, Selena James: thank you for your hard work, dedication, and all that you do to make what we as authors do work wonderfully in the end. Thanks to Adeola Saul for “hooking me up” when you can, in publicizing my books. One such meeting was with the fantastic Go On Girl! Book Club during their eighteenth annual awards’ national meeting in 2010. To those at Kensington and beyond (copy editor Amy Maffei and art director Kristine Mills-Noble) who’ve had anything to do with making this book be one of excellence: my thanks to you!
To my mother, Josephine Davis: Mommy, I love you so much! I always call you Mama, but every now and then, when I want to feel like a little girl again, I’ll say Mommy. Mama, you’ve been with me through the good and the bad, through thick and thin, through my ups and downs. You’ve cried with me, rejoiced with me, and encouraged me to run on and see what the end will be. I am blessed to call you my mother—a true woman of God!
To my father, James Davis Jr.: Daddy, you’ve been an example of what a real man is, a God-fearing man who loves the Lord, what a husband should be, and how far a father will go to do what needs to be done to take care of his family. Daddy, you haven’t just talked the talk, you’ve walked the walk. Love you, Daddy!
To my son, Jeremy Griggs, and my sister-in-law, Cameron Davis: I love and thank you both for having read every book I’ve written that’s been published. I know how busy everyone is. And to have family to support you by reading the words you’ve taken so much of your time to write, I appreciate you much for that! To my husband, Jeffery: Thanks for your love and for your continuing to believe in what I do. To my sons, Jeffery and Johnathan Griggs: I love you and thank God for what He’s doing in your lives.
To my sister Danette Dial and my brother Terence Davis: Thank you for those times when I look up and see you at a book signing or one of my speaking engagements. That blesses my heart more than you’ll ever know. To my sister Arlinda Davis and brother Emmanuel Davis: keep reaching for your dreams! I love my family!
To my granddaughters, Asia Bolden and Ashlynn Griggs: The two of you bring me so much joy and so many smiles, I can’t begin to tell you how much I love you! I pray that God continues to bless you as you grow into who God is calling you to be.
To Vanessa L. Rice and Linda H. Jones: who knew that from your reading one of my books we would have become the friends that we have. You both always bless me with your feedback after reading my latest work. I enjoy the in-depth conversations we have about the characters who absolutely come alive for us. Thank you. To Zelda Oliver-Miles: I hope you know how much I love you! Now, get going on that book you’re working on. To Regina Biddings: you’re a special person indeed.
Thanks, Greg Minard, for what you do to help keep my books on some shelves for those searching for them. To Troy Johnson of AALBC: thank you for the page you put up on your Web site (please thank your mother for me … wink, wink!). To Edna Curry of EDC Creations: you bless so many, from authors to readers. To Cydney Rax of Book Remarks: thanks for what you do to let others know what books are scheduled for release. To APOOO, RAWSISTAZ, Black Expressions, MOSAIC: what would we authors and readers do without you?!
I’ve been blessed by so many of you, whether it was through book clubs, church groups, or individually as you’ve read my books, sent e-mails, and told others
, “You’ve got to read her books!” To each and every one of you, whatever you’ve done or are doing—large or small—I thank you from my heart and pray God’s blessings upon you.
It’s a privilege to be able to do what I do. Thank you for welcoming me into your time and into your space. I’m honored, and I don’t and won’t take this opportunity or you for granted. Enjoy the read, and be sure to tell someone else so that we can both continue doing what we do—writer and readers in ministry together. To God be the glory!
Vanessa Davis Griggs
www.VanessaDavisGriggs.com
Chapter 1
There shall not any man be able to stand before thee all the days of thy life: as I was with Moses, so I will be with thee: I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.
—Joshua 1:5
Rayna “Ma Ray” Towers had fallen asleep on the couch in the den. She’d called herself staying up to watch The Tonight Show, but in the end, it appeared some other show—muted—was watching her. Still, at age seventy-five, Ma Ray’s senses were keen. That’s why she heard sounds of someone breaking in. A few folks she personally knew had had their homes broken into just this year alone. Her granddaughters, Sahara and Crystal Nichols, were staying with her for the summer. Ma Ray quickly got up and went to the hall closet where she kept a twelve-gauge, double-barrel shotgun. She quietly loaded it.
A man who appeared to be around eighteen years old, dressed in washed-out blue jeans and a black Sean John shirt, started up the stairs. She pointed the gun, then pulled back the hammer, causing it to make a metallic clicking sound. “Freeze,” she said. “Don’t take another step. Put your hands up, or I promise I’ll blow you away!”
Six steps up, the young man stopped and raised his hands. “Lady, please don’t shoot.” He glanced back, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “Please put that down.”
Ma Ray glanced out of the side of her eyes toward the table with the telephone on it. She needed to call the police at this point while making sure he didn’t somehow manage to escape. “Turn around … slowly,” she said, repeating what most associate with a good law-and-order-type show.
Standing at five foot five in her stocking feet, a blue flowered cotton nightgown, and a baby blue satin scarf wrapped around her roller-filled head, Ma Ray raised the twelve-gauge shotgun even higher, aiming it squarely at the young man’s scrawny chest. A woman who had shot her share of snakes, Ma Ray wanted to be sure that, should she have a need to pull the trigger, she wouldn’t miss this target, either.
The young man raised his trembling hands higher. “Lady, are you crazy?” he said. “Look,” he said, sweating so hard Ma Ray could now see clear beads forming on his forehead before a few drops began to slowly make their way down his face. “If you’ll just put that thing down”—he nodded toward the gun—“I’m sure we can straighten all of this out in no time. I know we can.”
“Ma Ray, don’t hurt him,” seventeen-year-old Sahara said as she ran and stood at the top of the stairs dressed in light blue skinny jeans and a see-through, black-laced shirt. “Please, don’t hurt him.”
“See, lady,” the young man said. “I’m not here to hurt nobody. Listen to Sahara. Listen to your granddaughter”—he began to stutter—“sh-sh-she’ll vouch for me.” He glanced up at Sahara as though he were now mentally pleading for her to fully back him up. “Sahara was the one who told me to come here like this. Tell her, Sahara.”
“Ma Ray, please … just put the gun down.” Sahara walked toward the intruder.
“Yeah, Ma Ray. Please put the gun down.” The young man pleaded with his hands still high in the air. “This is all just one big misunderstanding. You’ll see.”
Ma Ray motioned with the barrel of the gun for him to step down to the floor; he obeyed. Lowering the barrel of the gun, she pointed it at the floor. Cautiously, he lowered his hands. Sahara made her way to the bottom step, looked at Ma Ray, and stopped.
“What’s your name?” Ma Ray asked him.
His voice squeaked when he spoke. “B-Man.” Then again, but stronger. “B-Man.”
Ma Ray lifted the gun back up slightly, pointing it at his shoes.
“Bradley,” he said hastily, his eyes fixed on the long, steel barrel of the shotgun. “But everybody calls me B-Man.”
Ma Ray lowered the gun again. “Bradley, huh? And did you happen to come with a last name?”
“It’s Crenshaw…. Bradley Crenshaw.”
“I take it you’re not from around these parts,” Ma Ray said.
“No.”
“No?” she said, clearly indicating she had a problem with his answer.
“No, ma’am,” Sahara hurriedly added, looking at her friend to clearly let him know he didn’t need to do anything more at this point to provoke her grandmother.
“I’m talking to him,” Ma Ray said, nodding at Bradley.
“No, ma’am,” he said. “I live more in the city.”
“You say that like you have a problem with the country or something.” Ma Ray tapped the gun several times with her trigger finger.
“No. I mean, no, ma’am. I was just saying that I live more in the city, that’s all, ma’am. That’s all I was saying.” His voice sounded like he was on the verge of tears.
“So why are you so far from home this time of night?” Ma Ray asked him.
“I-I-I was bringing something to Sahara.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Something that couldn’t wait for a decent hour? It must be good, then. So you can give me what you came to give Sahara.” Ma Ray took a step toward him.
His eyes widened. “Ma’am?”
“I said you can give me what you came here to give Sahara.” She glanced down, peering over her wire-rimmed glasses. “And will you please pull your pants up! Walking around with your pants hanging down like that. I tell you that just don’t make no sense, no sense at all,” Ma Ray said.
He quickly grabbed his pants by the waistband and pulled them up.
Ma Ray nodded as she watched him hold up his pants to keep them from falling down again. “You need on a belt. Or maybe you should buy pants the right size to begin with. Okay, Mister Man … now give me what you came to give my granddaughter.”
“But-but—”
“But-but nothing.” She raised the shotgun once again, pointing its barrel at the hardwood floor in front of him instead of directly at him.
He quickly looked down at the gun, then back into her face. “Ma’am, I’m sorry for having come up in your house like this. I promise you I am.”
“The correct terminology is breaking and entering. And honestly, by right, were I to have felt me or my family’s life were in danger whatsoever, I would have been well within my legal rights to have shot you on sight, no questions asked, with my actions most certainly to be ruled as justified.”
“Yes, ma’am. And I really am sorry, Ms…. Ma Ray … ma’am. Now, if you don’t mind, may I go? I really need to be getting on home. All of a sudden, I don’t feel so well.” The look on his face said it all.
“It depends”—Ma Ray lowered the gun and softly put the hammer back in place, taking it off ready—“on whether you intend to do anything like this again.”
“Ms. Ray … Ma Ray, ma’am, I promise you: after I leave here, you won’t ever have to worry about seeing my face in your house without your permission again. Ever.”
Ma Ray nodded. “Then I suppose you can go.” She went to the front door, opened it, and escorted him out. “Young man, let me give you some good advice. You need to do something more constructive with your life. You got off this time. But the next time, you may not be so lucky. And I’m not talking about with just me. Bradley, folks don’t play now and days. And ending up dead is nothing to play with. It’s not like in the movies or those video games y’all play, where you press a replay button and start all over as though nothing has happened. Now, you chew on what almost happened and on what I just said.”
“Yes,
ma’am. And thank you, ma’am.” Bradley stumbled off the wraparound wooden porch, stopping and throwing up in Ma Ray’s beautiful flower garden. Holding up his pants, he jogged down the road where he’d left his car, not once looking back.
Ma Ray walked into the house, unloaded the shells from the shotgun, and safely put it back in the closet. Fifteen-year-old Crystal now stood in the den next to her sister.
“Ma Ray—” Sahara said as she stood as still as a framed scene on pause.
“You and I will talk in the morning,” Ma Ray said as she started to her bedroom.
“But, Ma Ray—”
Ma Ray stopped without turning around. “I said, we’ll talk in the daylight.”
Chapter 2
Only be thou strong and very courageous, that thou mayest observe to do according to all the law, which Moses my servant commanded thee: turn not from it to the right hand or to the left, that thou mayest prosper whithersoever thou goest.
—Joshua 1:7
“Ma, Sahara called me a little after two o’clock this morning crying, saying that you pulled a gun … a gun on one of her little friends,” thirty-eight-year-old Lenora Nichols Stanford said to Ma Ray as soon as her mother answered. “I started to call you after I hung up with her, but it was so late that I didn’t want to wake you. Ma, you know you can’t go around pulling guns on people like that. You can’t.”
“And a top of the morning to you, too, daughter,” Ma Ray said.
“I’m sorry. Good morning, Ma. But did you hear what I said?”
“Oh, I heard you just fine. And for the record: when you’re an old woman who lives in the country alone, it’s perfectly okay to pull a shotgun on someone when that someone happens to be illegally breaking into your house.”
“What?”
“Oh, I guess Sahara left that little part out. And you didn’t happen to put two and two together—the fact that she called you after two in the morning,” Ma Ray said. “Well, that little ‘friend’ of hers broke into my house. But then again, in my defense, when I saw him sneaking up the stairs like some cat burglar, I didn’t know he was Sahara’s friend. I just knew someone had come into my house, uninvited, and whoever that person was, as far as I was concerned, they were a threat. And since I’d specifically told both Sahara and Crystal when they got here that there would be none of that sneaking out or sneaking anyone in while they were staying with me, I could only assume we were in danger of an intruder. I mentioned to you some months back we’ve had a few break-ins around here.”