Ray of Hope

By C. J. Nielsen

Gifted, list-making teen Jacob joins Ray, a PR-exec and wannabe Shaman with a mysterious past on a road trip of truly Biblical proportions that ends in Hope - the one in Maine, not the Rambo film one! Ray, the hopelessly likeable title character, picks up a collection of oddities, including the gifted boy, a stuffed bear, some kind of Israeli military pin with another man's name on it and a basket-bearing hitchhiker as he travels across the US in search of the boy's father… or perhaps something else altogether.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: May 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781528964067

C. J. Nielsen

C. J. Nielsen is a Brussels-based journalist and writer who balks at explaining how he settled in the land of many beers. Ray of Hope is his debut novel but not his first foray into publishing. Previous titles include a flirtation with flash fiction called Mr Melisma, Please and a detour into academia with Tourism and the Media.

Book preview

Epilogue

About the Author

C. J. Nielsen is a Brussels-based journalist and writer who balks at explaining how he settled in the land of many beers. Ray of Hope is his debut novel but not his first foray into publishing. Previous titles include a flirtation with flash fiction called Mr Melisma, Please and a detour into academia with Tourism and the Media.

About the Book

Gifted, list-making teen Jacob joins Ray, a PR-exec and wannabe Shaman with a mysterious past on a road trip of truly Biblical proportions that ends in Hope – the one in Maine, not the Rambo film one!

Ray, the hopelessly likeable title character, picks up a collection of oddities, including the gifted boy, a stuffed bear, some kind of Israeli military pin with another man’s name on it and a basket-bearing hitchhiker as he travels across the US in search of the boy’s father… or perhaps something else altogethe

Dedication

To all the teachers who never give up on their students…even the annoying ones!

Copyright Information

Copyright © C. J. Nielsen (2019)

The right of C. J. Nielsen to be identified as author of this work of fiction has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528923194 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528964067 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2019)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledegement

The author wishes to thank Andreas and Peter for their wise counsel on earlier drafts of this book; and his family for their patience and encouragement. The author further wishes to acknowledge LinkedIn Talent Solutions for the posting (page 62) that so inspired the title character’s imagination.

Ray has little time or patience, it seems, to explain everything at this point. He found a collection of oddities in the back of his Camaro. The boy he is with either doesn’t know how they got there or is not telling him everything.

There could be an uplifting story behind it or a stomach-churning 1970s’ horror flick. Who knows? Ray is missing too many of the pieces to tell it, if he could or wanted to.

There’s some kind of military pin with insignia that he can’t make head nor tail of. The boy says it’s Hebrew. Super clever he is. There’s a stuffed toy that the teen props up by his bed in the stables every night. But the thing that’s got Ray most flummoxed is this story about some Jewish boys on a bus, which is written in his own handwriting.

It’s a mystery wrapped inside one hell of a good story, if he could ever get to the bottom of it.

***

What are you doing for Shabes?

We’re taking the Holy with my parents in Jerusalem…sorry for coming back to you so late.

How ’bout Yontev then? Any plans for… He deletes the last part and retypes from Yontev.

…What are you all doing for, say, second meal? He deletes ‘all’, holds his thumb over the ‘delete message’ prompt and then retypes: ‘Any plans?’ and presses send.

The whooshing sound of a new message.

We’re at my parents’ place. You want to come?

Little punch in the air. Composure. The bus jolts to a stop.

Yeah sure…thanks!! He thinks about adding a third exclamation…deletes both and the word ‘thanks’, starting all over again. That would be great. Which meal?

Whoosh.

Second…and bring Noah!

A frown, hint of a downturn in the mouth. Under his breath, he mutters, Damn it!

Not sure Noah’s up for it. He’s been under the weather or something. Pass on excuses to your mom. Hard to explain how it is with him!!! he sends with no hesitation on the number of exclamations.

Whoosh.

Okay, will do. He’ll be missed! Gut Shabes anyway.

Thanks. You too! He’ll come around, don’t worry. The explosion has been hard on him too. Again he hesitates, deletes and starts anew. BTW, I’ll send over that chapter I promised. Really loved your feedback on the last one. Gut Shabes to you too!

It’s not in my nature to ask questions when I have no control over the answer. But who are you to question me on morality, likeability, the different paths that all men must take in order to get where they ought to be?

Chapter 1

The Right Stuff

The first thing she asks that catches Ray off guard is how he’s made a difference at work in the past. What things are you really proud of in your job? she says while leaning in and showing just a hint of cleavage.

Ray thinks straight away that that body language course he followed online is already paying dividends, as he leans in to manage a better look.

After a brief pause for demonstrated reflection, he is about to launch one of the ‘I made some well-observed changes to the production flow and saved the company’ when it occurs to Ray that this could be one of those trick questions that interviewers throw in. And the cleavage and leaning in is an extra test of his concentration skills under pressure.

There must be rules about responding to trick questions—ways of sounding equal parts competent and humble—but something stops Ray from choosing one of these pre-rolled answers. He opts for the story of how he broke the office water dispenser and managed to pass it off as an attempt to fix it when the receptionist came in and found Ray setting up a system to catch the overflow.

***

Actually, the full story went something like this: The next day he noticed an ‘out of order’ sign on it and that it had been turned off at the back to stop people trying to use it. But Ray was convinced it was calcium clogging up the dispenser and thought that, by inserting a pencil up the spout, it would be sure to work again. Pipe-cleaner in the Percy style, he mused. So, he pulled off the sign, opened the tap at the back and fired it up again. Sure enough, the leak stopped. All fixed, Ray thought, and he headed back to his office with one of those gelatinous instant soups—tomato with croutons.

Later, when the homeless people were starting to cue up at the nightly soup kitchen in front of the train station facing Ray’s office, it reminded him that he had forgotten to have his afternoon instant soup, so he headed back to the staff kitchen and found water all over the floor.

Oops.

He quickly started mopping it up when the office manager came back in to put her cup in the dishwasher and spotted Ray cleaning the floor.

He smiled a goofy, someone has to help you keep this place running look, and she reciprocated with an ‘I want your babies look’ and said, I wish we had more people like you, Ray O’Reilly, I really do.

***

Ray thinks this would be one of those ‘aren’t workplaces just the craziest places’ stories which would make him stand out from the other candidates. He would be different, show himself as someone capable of thinking on his feet, with a sense of humor to boot. And maybe it does no harm to put it out there that women in his office think Ray is a good sort, too. Plant the seed.

She smiles and makes a small note on Ray’s CV which she has now used to block views of her cleavage. Perhaps that’s a sign, Ray thinks as she leans back from the table. Should he do the same?

Ray mirrors the move, as instructed in the self-help course and thinks, Now it’s time to show that he’s a laid-back guy, someone to share a beer or go to a sales conference with.

So he leans a little further back and throws his hands behind his head, tipping the seat slightly off two legs. She frowns, as though it has really made an impression and starts searching the room like she’s lost something.

So Ray drops back to four legs and looks around as well, hoping he might be able to find whatever she’s looking for first. He scoots the chair back and looks under the table but there is nothing on the ground.

As he is down there, she snaps her legs shut, so fast in fact that he hears her knees knock together under the skirt. She must be busting to go to the loo, Ray concludes, so he pops back up from under the table.

Sorry, I couldn’t find anything, he tells her.

I should hope not, she snaps back and starts folding the CV to go into her binder.

Folding is a good sign…She wants to keep it separate from the other candidates, Ray thinks.

Look, if you need to go, I can just have a look round the office, check out the vibe, he decides to let her off the hook.

Another one of those micro-gestures (concern maybe), a quick glance in the direction of the reception, and she answers Ray’s unasked question.

I think we have everything we need…You know the way out, right? She stands up and offers her hand.

Ray takes it and gives a few short pumps, not pressing too hard as he knows women are not really used to shaking hands, despite what the experts tell him.

He heads for the elevator and casts a glance around the office one more time so that he has a clear picture in his mind’s eye when he has to return with his stuff.

The funny thing about God is that he doesn’t really have much of a sense of humor. Neither do the others, apparently.

Chapter 2

Jacob: The Baptist

Mom, they’re saying on the radio there’s a level four security alert and everyone should stay in their homes, Jacob says as he fastens his seatbelt.

His mom checks the rear-view, puts the VW Passat into reverse and backs out into oncoming traffic. Jacob shuts his eyes and crosses himself, as usual.

God protects us, honey. You know that, she says on reflex as though answering her son’s multiple anxieties.

She rams the gear lever into third, riding the clutch till the groaning VW stops bunny-hopping and enters the flow of traffic. Car horns blast, and the drivers make nut-job gestures as they swerve and slam their brakes to avoid collision.

I don’t think the church market will be open, Jacob persists, people are being told not to gather in crowds, the mayor canceled the football match this afternoon.

Jacob knows his mother is too busy counting the passing cars with fish stickers to pay any heed to his warnings.

***

The Passat lurches through the gates of the church, still in third, and comes to abrupt halt next to the Pastor’s Chrysler with its now iconic bumper-sticker ‘Jesus Chrysler is on the way!’ It is probably the only thing Jacob finds funny about Pastor James.

You see, Jacob, Pastor James isn’t afraid of the Islamists, so why should we be? We’ve got…

God on our side, Jacob finishes her sentence, as he unlatches his belt.

His mother is already bounding halfway up the stairs to the Best Baptist Church where Jacob had spent 23,793 minutes of his nearly 15-year life. He suspects the jumble sale will get him to the 24,000 mark easily and starts counting the moment he spots Cecile—Pastor James’ daughter.

Cecile is a year older than him and had decided from the moment she met him that Jacob’s presence in the church was an omen—he hadn’t worked out whether it was a good one or bad one yet.

‘Jacob Day’ she calls it. She etched it under the front-row pews in capitals, which she reckons makes it more serious and, besides, it’s easier to carve than curvy lower-cases. While her father cleanses the spirit of his flock inside the church, Cecile carries out her own cleansing rites behind the congregation hall.

***

The cleansing started a couple of years ago with used-gum exchanges, morphed into tongue kissing in what Cecile called ‘sticky baptism’, and a few weeks ago graduated to even stickier baptisms.

Jacob went along with this for twin reasons:

a) he was a teen and sometimes normal in that way, so thoughts of boobs, bras and pretty much anything to do with girls was easily second place on his minutes count-sheet (around 19,200 if you don’t count the time he saw his mom in the bath); and

b) he feared Cecile’s retribution more than Pastor James’ if he put an end to the cleansings.

***

He enters the church and immediately spots his mother in animated talks with others from the congregation who had also defied the warnings to stay home.

She is wearing the nametag she puts on when the church has an open day for new parishioners, a jumble-sale, bake-sale or other public events: Hi, I’m Stephanie.

A broad smile crosses his face as he imagines shouting Allahu Akbar and stage-diving across the table of home-baked refreshments.

What Jacob knows about his church is that the Bible with a capital ‘B’ is a big deal. It guides everything he, his mother and the rest of the flock do: All matters of faith and practice, as Pastor James puts it.

And after his first immersion last year—Pastor James’ cleansing not Cecile’s—he knows his place in the church is now fixed…in cement it somehow feels, especially if you believe the rumors about the congregation hall foundations being full of buried mobsters.

Jacob is a ‘believer’ like everyone else. At least, that is how people explain it to him. Of course, Cecile performed her own unique version that same day. It was the first time he had ever thrown up on someone’s head. But since then, he had gotten used to the sensation.

The only thing Jacob despises more than Pastor James and his Jesus-mobile is the slurry of sycophants that keep the church in fresh flowers, laminated bibles and up-to-date noticeboards and hymn sheets.

Jacob doesn’t consider himself one of the bad boys…He studies, gets good grades, puts his lunch wrappers in the bin, rarely cusses out loud. ‘A good kid’ as