Daughter of Hope

By Sherrie Ann Jenicek

By all outward appearances, the Hamiltons look like any normal American family, but behind closed doors lies a different story. At the center of this family is fourteen-year-old Hope. Deprived of her fathers love and attention, and constantly bullied at school, Hope longs for acceptance. The one place she finds solace and refuge is at the dance studio, where Ms. Davidson encourages her to use her gift. But no amount of encouragement can completely free Hope from a self-deprecating attitude and an ingrained insecurity over her fathers lack of interest in her.

When an opportunity arises and Hope finds herself at center stage, it seems like things might be looking up for her. But when her world comes crashing down and the dust settles, she is faced with untold truths about her familys past. On one of the worst days of her life, Hope has a brief, unexplainable encounter with someone who changes her course and puts her on a path to finding forgiveness, healing, and ultimately the love and acceptance she has always longed for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Sep 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781512709896

Sherrie Ann Jenicek

Sherrie Jenicek grew up in a little mining town nestled among the mountains of northern Idaho. As a young girl, she developed a passion for dancing and loves and appreciates the arts to this day. Sherrie is also a photographer, songwriter, and most importantly, a wife and mother of three. She is currently working on a sequel called Losing Hope.

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Copyright © 2015 Sherrie Ann Jenicek.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1979, 1980, 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Sabrina Jovanna Photography

www.sabrinajovanna.com (cover image and inside cover image)

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5127-0988-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-0990-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-0989-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015913601

WestBow Press rev. date: 09/14/2015

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

To every daughter

who has never known a father’s love.

Daddy’s Princess

As far back as I remember, you used to put me on your shoulders

and we’d laugh and dance around

I’d twirl around your finger, pink ribbons on my pigtails

and you’d smile, and I would take a bow

It’s a picture I’ve carried in my mind all through my life

And now the picture is faded, torn and unrealized

‘cause all I ever wanted to be was Daddy’s little princess

(Chorus)

Daddy’s princess, the apple of Your eye

Daddy’s princess, I’ll follow You everywhere

Daddy’s princess, I sit at Your feet, hang on every word You say,

tell You all my hopes and dreams

You hold them in Your hands and say, Daughter, trust in Me

My whole life, I wondered how it would be to have a daddy who loved me,

who read me a bedtime story and kissed me good-night

But like so many daughters who have never known a father

and long to be someone’s princess,

It’s a picture I’ve carried in my mind all through my life

And now the picture is faded, torn and unrealized

‘cause all I ever wanted to be was Daddy’s little princess

(Chorus)

Daddy’s princess, the apple of Your eye

Daddy’s princess, I’ll follow You everywhere

Daddy’s princess, I sit at Your feet, hang on every word You say,

tell You all my hopes and dreams

You hold them in Your hands and say, Daughter, trust in Me

Now that I’m a woman with children of my own,

I still have an ache in my heart

But then I met You and that loneliness was broken

You filled me up with Your peace

You carried me in Your arms, spoke every word I needed

You healed my heart and changed my life

Now the picture I carry is real and each day is a precious gift

and more than I could imagine

‘cause all I ever wanted to be was Daddy’s little princess

(Chorus)

Daddy’s princess, the apple of Your eye

Daddy’s princess, I’ll follow You everywhere

Daddy’s princess, I sit at Your feet, hang on every word You say,

tell You all my hopes and dreams

You hold them in Your hands and say, Daughter, trust in Me

Acknowledgements

To my husband and best friend, Jamie: I still remember when you asked, What are you doing in there—writing a book? And from that moment on, you continued to encourage me to keep going. You have always been my number one supporter. I love that you have a heart for me and that you want to see God’s purpose fulfilled in my life. I am so thankful God gave me a man with a heart for Him and a heart to serve the body of Christ. I am humbled and grateful for what the Lord has brought us through and the journey that still lies ahead of us. Thank you for being my partner and walking with me. I love you, Jamie.

To my beautiful daughter, Sarah Rose: You were the first one to read my story, and you have been a tremendous encouragement to me along the way. Thank you, my girl. I love you.

To Mariah, Rabekka, Jessica, and Mommy D: Thank you for taking the time to read the story and give me your honest feedback. I appreciate you girls.

To my pastors, John and Siony DeVries, and Wellsprings of Life Christian Fellowship: I love and appreciate you. Thank you for your encouragement, mentorship, and guidance.

To Judith Proffer: Thank you for your help and guidance. Most of all, thank you for introducing me to Debbie. For that, I will always be grateful.

To Deborah Pope: You played a major role in the completion of this book. You have gone above and beyond simply editing this book. During this process, you have encouraged me, challenged me to write in a way that compelled me to see different perspectives, and walked with me each step of the way. I believe with all my heart that God meant for us to meet and work together. Thank you, Debbie, for the wonderful job you did editing this story. I appreciate you, my friend.

Most importantly, I want to give thanks and praise to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I am humbled, Lord, that you would use someone like me. Thank you for rescuing me from the pit and putting my feet on solid ground. I love you, Jesus, with all my heart. You are my Hope!

Chapter 1

Clutching her stomach and gasping for breath, Hope lay helpless on the rough asphalt. A sharp, burning sensation seized her right elbow. Her body jerked in pain against the cold black canvas. She felt like a one-girl freak show for all to see. Her tense stomach muscles released just enough for her to take in a breath of precious air and prop up on one arm. Adding to the humiliation was the agony she knew must be apparent on what had to be her now very contorted face. Despite the pain and distress, one thought dominated all others. Is anyone going to help me?

The answer seemed clear, as not a single student or teacher stepped in to offer a hand. The crowd that had formed was composed of her tormentors, those who were just curious, and those too scared to stand up for her (knowing better than to speak a word to anyone). The physical pain began to subside, but the emotional pain raged on as the insults continued. You pathetic loser. Nobody’s going to help you. You’re not worth it.

Hope tried to draw the courage to get up onto her feet and walk away, but her efforts were in vain. Then two hands grabbed her hoodie, pulled her up, and threw her against the brick wall. You’re not going anywhere. Do you hear me? Hope’s eyes pleaded, looking to the other students to come to her rescue, but they just stared, simultaneously feigning her nonexistence.

No longer did she feel able to contain the grief and horror she had desperately tried to keep locked inside. The pressure was so intense that every bit of anguish was stuck in her throat, endeavoring to be released, like a caged, wild animal. Standing there against her will, her self-worth being seized piece by piece with every shameful putdown, was more than most could take without contest. But there was no fight in Hope, and only the tears she fought so hard to suppress came rushing out—with deep, painful sobs, wrenching her entire body.

The hands slowly loosened their grip, not out of any sliver of compassion but only for one final verbal slap. You’re nothing, and you’ll always be nothing. Hope dropped to her knees, burying her face in her hands. She could hear muffled chatter as the crowd dispersed. Left alone, silence filled her ears but for a faint ringing sound. Peering cautiously between her fingers to determine the whereabouts of the sound, Hope was shocked to find herself surrounded by complete darkness. It pressed down on her until she could no longer move.

The ringing became more intense … ring … louder still … Ring … and again … RING … and then … SMACK! Hope was now wide awake, wishing the dream had simply been some random nightmare she could easily forget. Unfortunately, it was her stark reality—an all-too-familiar scenario that in less than two hours she was almost certain to be facing head-on. Too bad another smack on the snooze button couldn’t freeze time. I can’t do this today, she muttered. Thanks to the bad dream, anxiety was gaining such a fierce momentum that it felt beyond her control. She drew her knees up and shivered under the warmth of her favorite red blanket.

• • •

Contemplating the first day of school had been bringing on all sorts of worries that were now directly manifesting in the pit of Hope’s stomach. Her mind became a battlefield—bombarded with thoughts of what to wear, who she would see, who she hoped not to see, and whether the torment from the last school year would pick up right where it had left off.

Last year, in seventh grade at Forest Hills Middle School, a group of popular girls, alongside their ringleader, Jessica Whitman, had pushed Hope around and called her nasty names as others stood by and watched. Hope recalled her mom feeling compelled to visit Principal Montgomery’s office to tell him just how tired she was of her daughter coming home crying.

It hadn’t done anything but give Jessica more ammunition against her. So, your mommy has to come to the school and fight your battles. Such remarks were delivered with the most sarcastic edge.

Hope racked her brain, trying to figure out how she had ever become a target. She was no competition for Jessica. She wasn’t popular with the boys, Dede Dixon was the only girl she could truly call a friend, and her family wasn’t wealthy or prominent in the community. Though she had danced once in the school talent show, she figured her abilities were neither horrible enough to make her a laughingstock nor fantastic enough to evoke the kind of jealousy that would escalate maliciousness. Hope thought of herself as someone who was insignificant—a nobody. Why would a somebody want to bother at all with a nobody? What stuck out in her life that made Jessica so desperately want to torment her?

I’d better get up. She rolled out of bed and drudgingly walked to her closet. Looking over the meager selection of clothes stirred her anger. Two weeks earlier, her mother had taken her back-to-school shopping—well, if picking out one new outfit could even be called that. I’m sorry, Hope, but we really have to watch our spending since your dad isn’t working right now. Don’t worry. He’ll find another job soon. More than worry, Hope just couldn’t fathom why her father didn’t try harder to hold down a job. And she hated when her mom made excuses for him.

At least the outing had provided her a cute pair of jeans and a shirt from her favorite store, Blu Nickal. It was the store of choice for the majority of the female population at her school. The white three-quarter-sleeve shirt had a red and pink faded heart on the front with the store’s logo creatively written inside. There had been only one problem with the shirt—a small stain on the underside of the left sleeve. Her mother turned the spot into a discount and tried her best to assure Hope that nobody would be looking under her arm.

Hope couldn’t start the first day off by wearing an outfit from last year. It was a no-brainer. She grabbed the new clothes out of her closet and headed to the bathroom to get ready.

As she stood in front of the mirror with disgust, her clothing fiasco was now secondary. Hope didn’t like the way she looked. She believed her small frame and curveless body bore more resemblance to a boy’s physique. If it weren’t for her long hair, she was sure she would be mistaken for Hadwin’s long-lost brother rather than his sister. Most girls her age were already filling out a bra. She was still wearing the smallest cups known to womankind. Her mother always told her how beautiful she was, but Hope figured she was just being kind and motherly. Elizabeth was tall and slender, with long, straight, brown hair and gorgeous almond-shaped, green eyes. When the two went out together, people always stared … at her mom. Hope longed to command that kind of attention.

Every time Hope stood in front of a mirror, the same words played in her head over again and again. I hate my body, my face, and my life. She received plenty of confirmation from Jessica and her posse. They made fun of her clothes, her figure, her … well, her everything (with the exception of her brother). They called her a dog. It’s true, she mumbled, pulling her hair into a ponytail and glaring into the mirror. The boost of confidence she thought the new outfit would lend didn’t do its thing. Not even close.

A loud voice interrupted Hope’s self-deprecating thoughts, a voice that always seemed to manage its way up the stairwell. Sis, Hadwin yelled from the kitchen, get down here!

Hope’s brother was the complete opposite of her. A senior at Forest Hills High School, Hadwin was good-looking, athletic, and popular. Whenever Hope looked at him, she wondered how they could possibly have come from the same parents. Hadwin took after their father, Joe. In his former glory, Joe had been strong and muscular. Hadwin had Joe’s brown eyes and sandy-blond hair.

When Hope finally emerged from the stairway, Hadwin was waiting with her breakfast in hand. Hurry, sis. We need to go.

Hope took one bite of her toast and felt like she was going to be sick. I’ll eat later, she said, looking away.

You okay? Hadwin asked. He already knew what was bothering Hope, but he felt helpless because he couldn’t be there to protect his sister.

I’ll be fine. Let’s go.

On the drive, Hope stared out at the gorgeous homes scattered along the hillside. She imagined what it would be like to live in such a beautiful house, with a closet full of endless possibilities, and to have a mom to come home to after school.

Never for long, but she did occasionally feel upset with her mother. On the other hand, she was more than a little angry at her father—for two months of staying up late, night after night, drinking and watching TV, and sleeping in all the mornings after.

Joe had been fired from Whitman Construction for showing up to work with alcohol on his breath. Jessica’s dad owned the company, and Hope feared that Jessica would use this information against her. Since the drama had occurred over the summer break, there was the mere chance that Jessica would have forgotten about it by now. Hope wanted to believe in that chance.

To make ends meet, Elizabeth was picking up extra weekend shifts at the hospital. Working in the housekeeping department was a tiresome job, and most nights she came home only to make dinner, eat a few bites, and then collapse next to Joe on the couch.

Hadwin decided to interrupt his sister’s thoughts. Maybe it will be different this year, Hope. He was the constant voice of optimism in their family.

Maybe what will be different? she questioned, a slight irritation in her voice.

"Well, you