Hope

By Vane Nikoloski

Our world is experiencing a daily decline of cultural, moral, and other important values.

Persisting on the edge of nuclear and environmental disaster, for consolation and happiness the novel Hope returns trust to the individual and society, as his characters find themselves in the focus of depressive influences, but never forget their values.

Love, perseverance and hope are levers for advancing the human being in the true direction, which primarily implies healing human dignity and achieving success that serve as an example.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Sep 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781035812158

Vane Nikoloski

Vane Nikoloski was born in Macedonia in 1966. He lived his life between Europe and Australia until permanently migrating to Melbourne in June , 1991. Vane’s schooling was predominantly in Ohrid, Macedonia, growing up with friends of different religions and cultures. In Australia, he married his wife, Milena, and they raised two children together. Vane has always been a passionate writer, inspired by his adventurous early life. Hope is his first novel. It was originally written in Macedonian and eventually translated into English.

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Hope

Vane Nikoloski

Austin Macauley Publishers

Hope

About the Author

Dedication

Copyright Information ©

Acknowledgement

About the Author

Vane Nikoloski was born in Macedonia in 1966. He lived his life between Europe and Australia until permanently migrating to Melbourne in June , 1991. Vane’s schooling was predominantly in Ohrid, Macedonia, growing up with friends of different religions and cultures. In Australia, he married his wife, Milena, and they raised two children together. Vane has always been a passionate writer, inspired by his adventurous early life. Hope is his first novel. It was originally written in Macedonian and eventually translated into English.

Dedication

Dedicated to my inspiration – my wife Milena, and my two children,

Angela and Kristian.

Copyright Information ©

Vane Nikoloski 2023

The right of Vane Nikoloski to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 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 unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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

ISBN 9781035812141 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781035812158 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

I would like to acknowledge the following people.

Dr Natasha Garrett, La Roche University for translation to English.

My son Kristian Nikoloski , and also my agent, for driving the entire process of sourcing and securing network and end product.

Artist Suzi Nikoloska for front cover an original painting depicting novel.

A rainy July night. A white car is parked in the front of the home for orphaned children named, HOPE. In the car, a young woman is softly whispering to the new-born she is holding in her arms. The woman’s tears keep running down her pale face and falling on the baby’s head. The baby, swaddled in white, gives an occasional whimper, and then quiets down. My sweet little angel, I pray that God watches over you. I pray that you grow up to be a strong man! the woman whispers.

The car remains parked in front of the orphanage until dawn. The rain stops falling as the first morning rays of sunshine pierce the air. The woman steps out of the car. She is tall and slim, with dishevelled blonde hair. She carries the basked with the swaddled baby to the orphanage entrance and leaves it at the doorstep. In the dead quiet of the early morning, you could hear the sound of her car engine, as she drives off down the empty street.

Every morning, Maria was the first one to wake up and walk down the hallway leading to the communal bathrooms. This morning, the usual quiet was punctured by a baby’s cry. Still not fully awake, Maria stopped and listened. She turned around and walked to the main entrance. The crying was getting louder and louder. Maria grabbed the key from the hook on the wall and unlocked the front door. She saw the basket with the baby, who at that moment stopped crying.

Maria bent over, picked the baby up, and whispered: Sweet little angel, where did you come from? At that moment, the baby began to cry again, as if to answer her question. She hesitated for a moment; should she get the others or wait for another half hour, when everyone was scheduled to wake up anyway? She carried the baby to the bathrooms, where she gave him a bath the sink. Welcome, little angel, to our big home. You will have lot of brothers and sisters here, and you will not be alone. Whoever your mother is, I am sure she loved you very much. The baby kept whimpering.

Clara woke up fifteen minutes before the others. This morning, the usual calm was disturbed by the baby’s cry. The oldest child at the orphanage was three; the new-born cry she was hearing confused her. She walked towards it and heard Maria’s voice. She opened the bathroom door and saw Maria bathing the baby.

Maria smiled at Clara: Dear child, look at who God brought us this morning! Clara stretched her arms towards her. Let me help bathe him, she offered. Maria handed her the baby. What a lovely gift we have received, she whispered. What a sweet, beautiful baby, Clara agreed, pouring water on the baby’s head. When they finished the bath, Maria headed to the bedrooms and with a tiny bell woke everyone up. Clara dressed the baby and carried him to the kitchen.

She prepared the baby a bottle from the fresh milk that George delivered every morning. While Clara took care of the baby, Maria went through the morning routine of prayer, washing up and preparing for breakfast. When everyone gathered at the dining hall, she spoke: Dear all, I want to inform you that this morning we received a new member of our family. God blessed us with a new-born baby boy. At that moment, Clara entered the dining hall with the boy in her arms.

Everyone gathered around the newest member of the children’s home. He is so cute, they exclaimed. What a sweet little boy. The younger children wanted to know his name. When Clara told them that he didn’t have a name yet, they immediately offered suggestions. It is time for the baby to take a nap, and you think about what we should name him, Maria picked up the boy and walked out of the dining hall.

The next day, Maria invited everyone to write their name suggestions on a piece of paper. Clara was going to read the names out loud, and whichever name was greeted with the loudest applause, that would be the name for the boy. That’s how they chose the name Adam.

The days at the orphanage HOPE were passing in the usual manner: morning prayer, washing up, breakfast, which included the fresh milk donated by George, lovingly called Uncle George.

Young Adam particularly enjoyed his morning milk, and waved his arms cheerfully while the caregivers were preparing his bottle. Adam was quite popular at the home, likely because he was the youngest. Even the staff members were fighting over who was going to pick him up and feed him. Adam was growing up happy and loved. He was the happiest in Maria’s arms and when Clara sang him lullabies.

Maria, who was in her forties, was the oldest at the home. She was the founder of HOPE and poured her love and hard work to make it a respectable institution in the city. HOPE was the home of around eighty children of various backgrounds. The city’s diverse population was reflected in the orphanage, where predominantly White, but also Black and immigrant children lived together. Adam appeared to be biracial.

When he turned six, it was time for him to begin his education. There was a school at the home staffed with volunteer teachers from the community. There were three classrooms in the school: one for first to fourth grade, one for fifth to eight grade and one for ninth to twelfth grade. After finishing twelfth grade and turning eighteen, the children were free to leave the home.

In the first classroom, Adam made a friend named, Tom. Tom was born with a disease that affected his legs so he couldn’t walk. He used a wheelchair. Tom was not an orphan. He actually came from a very wealthy family. His parents, who regularly donated to the home, believed that Tom would be happier living at HOPE, among other children. They were often travelling for work and they didn’t want to leave Tom home alone with a caregiver.

On his first day of school, Adam chose to sit in the last row by the wall, next to Tom. Adam was fascinated by Tom, who was a voracious reader and at times knew more than the teachers. After school, Adam and Tom often hung out in the playhouse, which Uncle George built at the far edge of the back yard. Tom watched a lot of movies, and he tirelessly retold the movie plots to Adam and Chris. Chris was a nine-year old boy. His parents died in a car accident when he was two. None of his relatives showed any interest in adopting him, and he ended up at the home.

Every Saturday afternoon, Maria took the children to the cinema. The only time Adam was sad was when he watched a family movie. At Christmas, they had a movie projector at the home and organised a movie marathon, which was very popular with the children and the staff.

Throughout the years, some children were adopted and new children joined the home. Maria and Clara prayed for Adam to be adopted by a nice family, but he remained at the home. One day, Clara asked Maria: Maria, I would like to hear your honest opinion: do you think families don’t choose Adam for adoption because he is biracial? I noticed that White families choose White children, and Black families choose Black children.

Maria reached over to Clara and clasped her hands around hers: Listen to me, dear. We live in a country whose past left deep roots in how people think. We don’t think that way. We love and respect everyone equally here, and we hope our city and our country will one day do the same. All we can do is lead by example and show the world that everyone is equal!

Teary-eyed, Clara looked up: Maria, I have a confession to make. Sometimes, when a family comes to choose a child for adoption, I hide Adam in the playhouse, because I feel that we are the best family for him…

Maria started laughing. I sometimes take Adam with me to the store when families visit, and for that same reason! I want him to grow up and decide on his own when it is time for him to leave. Clara was relieved that both of them were on the same page when it came to Adam and his future.

Adam was growing up fast. At sixteen, he was turning into a handsome young man, with a chocolate skin, thick black hair and big green eyes. His shoulders were getting broader and his arms were getting longer and stronger. As he was growing taller, his behavior was also changing. Maria and Clara noticed that he stopped giving them big hugs and kisses, but he reassured them that he still loved them. The conversations he had with Tom and Chris were also changing, from movies, astronomy and sports to fashion, girls, music and cars.

One Sunday, the boys were sitting under the big oak tree behind the orphanage and chatting about girls. Chris was telling them about his feelings for Natasha, a seventeen-year-old daughter of Russian immigrants, who was also brought to the orphanage after losing her parents in a terrible car accident when she was three years old. She had no relatives in this country. Chris was looking for advice on how to approach Natasha.

You know what, Chris, Tom replied. I have never had a girlfriend, so I am not much help, but I can maybe help you choose a cologne or some nice clothes. Adam over here seems to be very popular with the ladies. He may be able to give some advice, even though he is younger than us, Tom laughed.

You are right, Tom! Adam said. Girls seem to like me. But I am interested in one particular girl. She volunteers here as a nurse in training. Her name is Rebecca.

Chris laughed and exclaimed: Rebecca? Rebecca Taylor? She is eighteen!

I know she is eighteen, but that doesn’t bother me, Adam replied.

Adam, we know it doesn’t bother you, Tom said, but does it bother HER? Everyone knows Rebecca Taylor, the most beautiful girl here. And how can you not notice her, with that blonde hair, perfect figure and irresistible smile…you may be biting off more than you can chew.

I know, I know, Adam replied. But I still don’t care. I will do everything I can to be with her. If she would have me.

Brave and persistent, that’s my friend Adam, Tom said. Good luck!

At that moment, they noticed Uncle George walking towards them. George usually spent his Sundays around the orphanage, helping with odd jobs around the building or the yard.

Uncle George, do you have a moment to join us? the boys exclaimed. We need your advice.

Of course, boys, George replied.

We need girl advice from you, Uncle George.

Girls? Get out of here, you are too young for girls. You are still mere children!

I am eighteen! Chris is seventeen and Adam is fifteen, but it looks like he is already thinking about girls, Tom laughed. When did you start getting interested in girls?

George was caught by surprise. Hmm, let me think. It’s been a while. I was eighteen, and the girl, Angela, was around twenty. The most beautiful girl in my village. We were very poor; my dad died in World War II and my mom remarried and moved to another village, and left me with my uncle, my dad’s brother. I helped him with farm work…but never mind, you are asking me about girls, not my life story…

Please tell us about your life as well, exclaimed the three boys. We are not in a hurry.

OK, but let me know when you get bored, OK? No hard feelings. I liked my uncle Peter. He accepted me as one of his own, and I am forever grateful for that. But once I turned seventeen, it was time for me to leave. Since I was a son of a soldier that died in combat, I was quickly offered a spot in an orphanage for a short time before I came to this country. But coming back to Angela…

At that moment, the boys noticed a single tear rolling down his cheek. I think I was actually seventeen, and Angela was nineteen.

See, Adam said, just like Becky and I. I am almost sixteen and she is eighteen.

Almost sixteen…you are still a kid for her, Chris laughed.

Are you talking about the volunteer nurse aid? She looks a lot like my Angela, with that long blonde hair, sky blue eyes and a gorgeous smile. Which one of you likes her?

Adam, Tom and Chris exclaimed in unison.

Is that true, son?

Yes, it is, Adam admitted, looking down at his feet. But go on, tell us about your girl.

Ah, my boys, George sighed. "She was my first and I would say my only love. So many years have passed, but the memory of her remains crystal clear in my mind. I was working in my uncle’s field. She was working in the field that belonged to her fiancé, right next to ours. Her fiancé was in the military at that time. Military service was mandatory in my country, and quite long, two or three years. I remember it was a pleasant, sunny day in April, right around Easter. I walked up the nearby hill to get water from the spring. As I was walking down, back to the field, she was climbing up the hill.

As we walked past one another, our eyes met, just for a moment. I have never seen a more beautiful girl. I was hypnotised! At that moment, she accidentally dropped one of the clay pots. I picked it up from the ground and handed it to her.Thank you," she looked at me, and gave me a big smile, sending an electric shock straight through my body. I turned around and watched her as she continued climbing up the hill. As if she knew I was watching her, she turned back and our eyes met again. I believe that is the moment that sparked something between us.

"I kept thinking about her all day and all night. I couldn’t wait for the morning. Under the magic spell of her beauty, I rushed to the field earlier than usual, hoping to see her again. Her fiancé’s parents and siblings were already working the field, but she wasn’t with them. Where was she? I was deeply disappointed. I walked to the village square, where people usually gathered to chat and visit the two little shops in the opposite ends of the square.

"I was hoping to see Angela there, or at least find out where she might be. I bought a drink from one of the shops and sat down on the patio overlooking the well where young women gathered to fetch water and socialise. I lingered on the patio for a while, hoping Angela would show up, but she didn’t.

"As I was sitting on the patio, I overheard the shopkeeper mention to one of the villagers that Ivan, Angela’s fiancé, was due to arrive on a temporary leave from the army. I rushed in, hoping to gather some more details, but the conversation had already moved on to a different topic. I didn’t want to sound too eager, so as casually as I could, I asked if Ivan made it back home.

I don’t think so, the man answered. Do you know him?

Of course, I do, that’s why I am asking, I lied.

"I thought this was good news, and that I bought myself some time to find Angela and let her know how I feel about her. I walked to the fields the next day, and I spotted her from a distance.

"I felt week in my knees and my heart started beating faster. I left the bag with my lunch—bread, cheese and water—under the tree and started working. Once in a while, I would look up in her direction, hoping to meet her gaze. Nothing. I thought to myself, maybe it was all in my head.

"Maybe I had just imagined the connection we felt the day before. I mean, it was only a glance, two if you want to be technical about it. I kept working, and kept waiting for something to happen. Nothing. I walked up to the spring to get fresh water, and lied down for a bit, resting and listening to the gurgling of the running water, like I often did. I closed my eyes and let the sounds of nature take over me.

"I couldn’t tell if I had fallen asleep or was just daydreaming. Either way, I was brought back to reality by a female voice, asking me if I was OK. I opened my eyes, and there she was, my beautiful Angela. I know I answered her, but I was so startled, I barely remember what exactly I said.

My name is Angela, she said, as she was filling up her clay pots.

I know who you are, I said. I wanted her to know I had been interested in her.

She finished fetching water.Just wait a little up here, so that we don’t walk down the hill together, she asked me. I don’t want people to talk."

Of course! Watching her walk away, I yelled out: I’ll be working out here tomorrow, how about you?

I’ll be here as well, she smiled at me.

I stayed at the spring a while longer, blissfully enveloped in a strong feeling of happiness, a feeling I still vividly remember, forty years later. I kept working, but my mind was elsewhere. I knew she lived in her fiancé’s house, but I didn’t care. I was so confident in how I felt and that the feeling was mutual.

Adam, Chris and Tom watched the glimmer in George’s eyes as he relieved the memories of his youth. His love for Angela was undeniable.

Are you sure I am not boring you, boys?

No, no, please continue! pleaded Adam.

"The next day was the day before Easter so I put on nicer clothes and I didn’t work too hard, hoping to stay clean and fresh. Time was passing slowly, as I was waiting for Angela to get water from the spring, so that I could join her there. She finally grabbed her clay pots and headed to the spring, and I followed shortly after. When I caught up with her, her vessels were already filled up and she was heading back to the field.

Where have you been, she scolded me.

I like you, I blurted out and kissed her, and she kissed me back. It was only a brief kiss, but for me, it felt like eternity.

I have to go, she said. But I will be at the village square tomorrow for the Easter festivities. Maybe I’ll see you there.

Good Lord, those were the sweetest words I have heard my entire life! My happiness knew no end.

As George was telling them the story, his face was glowing from within. The boys felt his happiness and wanted to hear more of his love story. They begged him to continue.

OK, I’ll tell you about the Easter celebration, and that will be it for today. It is getting late.

George continued: The next day, I put on a new white shirt that I had saved for special occasions. I spritzed a bit of cologne that I got as a gift from someone who worked abroad and I helped him with his luggage. I slicked my hair back, like in the movies. I headed to church and then to a family meal at my uncle’s house. After lunch, I rushed to the village square, where people gathered to celebrate Easter with song and dance. There she was, my Angela, accompanied by her fiancé’s mother. We kept glancing at each other all day. It may sound like nothing, but it meant everything to me. And that’s it for today. Let’s go to dinner.

Uncle George, would you sit at our table for dinner? Adam begged.

I can do that, but I want to hear about the girls’ you boys are interested in. Deal?

Deal!

When they sat down, Adam immediately started telling him about Rebecca, who was sitting with Maria, Natasha and Clara at a nearby table.

She is a pretty girl, Adam, George told him. I see her glancing this way. I think she already knows you like her.

But how do I tell her I like her?

Relax, Adam, Chris interjected. It was different when Uncle George was younger. These are modern times.

Maybe the times have changed, but love has timeless power. The lifestyle may be different nowadays, but the approach to love has remained the same. Adam, son, don’t overthink it. Just tell her how you feel at the moment, though I suspect she already knows. But no more talk. Let’s eat.

As they were eating dinner, George was basking in the memories of his youth. He was trying to recall all the details of his love for that girl, a girl that was engaged to someone else. Encouraged by George’s story, Adam was ready to approach Rebecca.

I think I’ll do it this evening, Uncle George, Adam said.

Go ahead, kid. You know what they say, the early bird catches the worm. No need to wait.

No girl can say no to you, my friend, Tom added.

OK I’m going, Adam got up and took his tray with him.

Tom knew that Adam was very popular with the girls, but he sensed that this one was special. Adam sat at a younger kids’ table, closer to Rebecca, waiting for her to finish her meal. The children were so excited to have Adam sitting with them—they giggled and immediately started hugging him and playing with him. The noise caught Maria’s attention: Look at how much they adore our dear Adam. Becky, take a look!

Rebecca responded coyly: Yes, I see that. Clara gave her a subtle look, suspecting that Rebecca was also interested in Adam.

When everyone finished dinner, Adam stood behind Becky in line to return