From: A Margin of Hope by Rosetta J. Jamieson-Thomas
Chapter One
Vanessa Jones sat in the uppermost row of seats in the bleachers at Sabina Park in Kingston, Jamaica, watching the cricket match. She let her gaze follow the mesmerizing moves of the tall, muscular batsman who was enjoying his second day at the wicket in the Caribbean Regional Cricket Competition and, yelling as loud as her vocal chords would allow, she led the spectators’ chant.
“Moses! Moses! Moses!”
Moses “Hurricane” Richardson, conspicuous in designer’s sun glasses with mirrored lens, and dazzling cricketer’s white outfit, waved in acknowledgement of the spectators’ enthusiasm. He then took his stance at the wicket, and with the confidence and grace of a skilled craftsman, he slammed the ball into the boundary for six runs, securing his first double-century and the Carib Beer Cup championship for Jamaica.
“Moses! Moses! Moses!”
The chant warmed to a fever pitch and ended in a powerful crescendo as the crowd of spectators erupted onto the cricket field and lifted the young cricketer into the air. Only nineteen years old, he was already a legendary batsman and fast pace bowler; two of the three characteristics that earned him the nickname “Hurricane”. The third related to how he swept the girls off their feet. Vanessa Jones was his latest conquest.
“Come on, Margaret. Let’s go. I have to get Moses’ autograph or die!”
As she spoke Vanessa grabbed her girlfriend by the arm and pulled her to her feet. Together they ran down the flight of stairs and onto the field, pushing and elbowing their way through the excited crowd of fans, news reporters, and photographers from the local media houses.
“Wait up, Vanessa. You’re going to get us killed in this stampede. It’s not worth it.”
As Margaret spoke she pulled back and tried to steer her friend along the periphery of the crowd.
“It’s not worth it? How can you say such a dumb thing? That’s a guy to die for. You don’t understand, Margaret. I really, really, really have to meet him.”
Margaret sighed. “Sister girl, this is neither the time nor the place to catch Moses. Why don’t you just ask your brother to introduce you?”
“I tried. More than tried. I begged.”
“And?”
“Nigel refused.”
“With good reasons. Right? Everyone knows your hero is a player.”
“Correction. Everyone thinks he’s a player. There’s a difference, you know.”
“Where there’s smoke there’s fire.”
“I really don’t care. I want him.”
“Vanessa Jones, listen to you! You don’t want to go there, sister girl. That’s bad news.”
“We don’t know that any of the stories we hear about him is true.”
“You know about him and Gracie Dawkins, don’t you?”
“I know she was dating him. I’ve heard her side of the story and I think it’s all a case of sour grapes. Moses dumped her that’s why she’s bad-mouthing him.”
“Stop fooling yourself. You know there’s more to it than that. Everyone knows that with him a girl either put out or get out. You’re a Christian. You can do better. Isn’t that why Nigel won’t introduce you to him?”
Vanessa laughed. “I want him and I’m going to get him. Too bad if my best friend and my brother don’t approve. Come on.”
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Selected from A Margin of Hope Page 103
He went for a run in the afternoon. When he got to Memorial Field a Little League game was in progress. He stopped to watch and as he watched he thought of Andrew. He looked at the happy faces of other fathers as they clapped and cheered, and encouraged their sons, and his emotions ran the gamut . . . anger, fear, numbness, and then hope. Hope. That struck him like a bolt of lightning. He resumed his running and as soon as he got home he was back on the computer. . . .
He read each journal entry over and over again and studied the photographs and the copies of Andrews’ drawings that Vanessa had scanned into the e-journal. There was one entry that overpowered him. It was a drawing of three stick figures: a woman, a child, and a man holding hands as they stood beside what looked like a house. Next to the pictures, in Andrew’s handwriting, were the words: Mom, Andrew, Daddy.
Moses clicked the reply button and poured his heart out in response, but when he was done, he couldn’t bring himself to hit the send button. Indeed, there was hope for Andrew as evidenced by the journal entries, but was there even a thin margin of hope for the three of them together as a family? Autism, love and marriage to Vanessa—how could these elements come together harmoniously in his life? He didn’t have the answer and he couldn’t envision it.
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