Journey ...The Healer

By Rebecca Conaty Bruce

Journey is a girl just like any other girl but with very few friends.  She rarely went to school and never felt special. Momma created a project to keep her busy.  In the North Georgia woods behind their tiny home Journey and her sister Justice helped Momma create a hut, a safe place where they could escape to when times got tough.  They built it with boards from an abandoned barn, Christmas wrapping paper for the walls, and even parts from the old dog house. Although it was meant to be a temporary hideout, when her Momma died, Journey never went back. At eleven years old, young Journey lived in the secret hideout until one day after falling into a spring her life changed forever. Did the magic spring give Journey the power to heal? Journey now feels special for the first time in her life, but will the rest of the world believe her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebecca Conaty Bruce
• Release date: Oct 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201379995

Rebecca Conaty Bruce

Rebecca started writing at an early age but did not become a serious writer until she retired and then published her first book: Irish Bones Rebecca now lives in Florida with her husband and writes full time. She has two series published and one YA fiction/fantasy.

Book preview

1. Run

When Papa drank too much, Journey and Momma would practice the escape route to the hut. The safe place. Papa would be out cold for hours at a time. This was their time to practice the run. They would take a can of food, a pail, a tool, or a piece of clothing each time. The hut was well disguised, covered in leaves and straw from the North Georgia pine needles that had fallen to the ground. Her mother made certain of it. Momma referred to it as the hut, while Journey referred to it as her forest palace.

It was spring time in North Georgia; cool evenings and the dogwoods were in full bloom when momma got sick. She explained to her children the best she knew how, it was cancer. The two sisters, Journey and Justice, did not quite understand what it meant. Momma had several colds over the years and she always got better. This time she didn’t.

After their momma died Journey and her sister Justice, continued to visit the hut a few times bringing more supplies in preparation for the when the right day would come. They made it a game, although Justice being older said games were for babies.

Momma said we will know when the right time comes and that we would need to run cried Journey.

I am not going to the woods, Journey. Just forget about that place scoffed Justice. I have my own plans

Her sister’s words confused Journey. Momma would never forget it and neither would she. Still she turned on her side away from Justice in the bed they shared trying to clear her mind and sleep.

Journey woke the next morning and found she was all alone. Justice had slipped out of the house in the middle of the night. In the days following Journey checked the hut every chance she had hoping her sister would be there waiting on her. But Justice never came back.

Now that Journey was the only one left in the tiny wood framed house, she caught the brunt of Papa’s drinking. In the past he beat Momma, her sister, and even the family dog until he died. Journey was left unharmed because either Momma or her sister would step in front of her to protect her.

Today was different. Journey was the only one left. She was asleep when Papa slammed the door open to her room. The door knob hit the wall so hard it left a hole in the plaster. Her small frame shivered with fright as she saw his evil grin.

Papa, please do not hurt me. You are scaring me Journey pleaded.

Papa wobbled a few steps closer. He put his hand on the wall to steady himself.

Today is the day, said Journey staring at papa.

What are you blabbing about girl shouted Papa.

"I feel the fear, today is the day" she repeated.

At least it was for Journey. Journey would be making the run all by herself. Her sister Justice having run away weeks before. Justice was older and had a boyfriend which set Papa off on another type of rage when he found out about it. Journey did not blame her sister for running away.

"I just wish she would have stayed for me" she thought.

Wearing little more than an old shirt, Journey prepared to run as Papa came closer. There wasn’t much money with momma sick for so long and Papa not working. What they did get from the church charity papa spent it on dark whiskey. Sometimes they sent a fruit basket to the house. Those were the best days, except when she went to school and got the free lunch.

Journey had no pajamas that still fit her anymore. There were never new clothes for the girls. Their clothes were pinned and mended at best.

Journey slept in a shirt and panties. Panicking that morning she covered her head with the worn out quilt she had since she was a baby. Papa pulled on the blanket and threw it on the floor. Journey braced for the first hit of the belt as it smacked her bare legs. The pain shot through her body like a bullet. The sting lingered as he raised his hand again. Thinking quickly Journey flung herself to the floor and scooted under the small metal frame bed that her and her sister shared.

Come out from under there girl! Papa bellowed. You cannot hide from me

She watched his feet wearing his old work shoes pace back and forth, with each step he was snapping the belt like a tiger ready to attack. Journey peered from under the bed. Papa was too lazy to tie his shoes properly, thus the laces were dangling. Journey knew this is the time to run for safety. Momma told her the day would come.

How will I know when it is time Momma?

You will know when the time comes. You will feel the fear like never before. That is the sign that it is time to run. Run to the hut, her momma would say.

Journey felt the fear. She just needed a plan to escape. Papa was blocking the only exit. Thinking quickly Journey waited till his left shoe got closer. Just before he took his next step, she reached out and grabbed Papa’s shoe laces and held on tight as she could. Just as she hoped, Papa started to stumble. Falling on his bad knee Papa let out a howl. Journey scooted out from under the bed and ran. She did not bother to grab clothes or shoes. She just ran. Repeating the directions she learned from her momma. She never looked back.

Throw open the screen door. Run to the left corner of the yard. Stand on the tree stump and jump the backyard fence. Run to the tall pine tree before you zig-zag through the woods. Look straight ahead. Don’t look back. The second tall pine has blue nail polish. Next is the oak tree. Look for the letter H for hut. Run like the wind through the underbrush then duck under the arch made of moss and kudzu. You are halfway there. Look for the hollowed out oak tree and there you will be free.

You will never scare me again! she shouted as she bravely ran. You are not my real father, just someone who married Momma! she yelled as she ran.

2. Safe

Journey ran ignoring the sharp branches and underbrush scraping her bare legs. She reached the familiar oak tree that hid the entrance to the hut. Although she had walked the path many times before, today she ran like a frightened sheep running from the wolves.

There was a hollow space in the old oak tree they used as a secret doorway. A temporary tarp covered it until they could form a proper door. One had to have knowledge it was here, it was well hidden from the casual explorer.

This wasn’t land they owned but deep forest that backed up to their tiny yard. The hut had to be a hidden secret. The woods were untouched and undeveloped by humans. Momma chose the place for the hut in the middle of a grouping of tall old trees. The limbs made Journey think they had arms reaching to the sky. Their brilliant limbs stretched out like a blanket of protection welcoming her home.

The old, weathered oaks stood guard over the hut. Their tangled canopy stretching over it like a dome of protection. It was temporary walls and tarps stolen from Papa’s shed until they added wood from an old barn that was dilapidated.

Journey spent hours helping Momma fasten a tarp to the trees and carry armloads of wood. The tarp made the hut rain proof before they could fashion a permanent roof. The kaleidoscope colors of the wood from the barn worked as camouflage. Journey thought it was beautiful.

Remember my words and all I have taught you and you will be safe, Momma would say.

I will Momma

On the next few trips to the hut Journey and her mother scooped pine needles to mix with clay and water to form leak proof walls and a safe roof. The hut was taking shape and it gave them all a purpose. Each piece of wood had a memory of where it came from. It took them months to scrounge enough.

They could not afford to buy wood from the store to finish it, so they secretly began tearing apart the doghouse in the tiny back yard. Papa never noticed, seeing as he never went in the back yard. Momma said, The dog would have approved of us using the wood, I am sure.

Journey and Momma gathered stones any place they could find them while forming the path to the hut and placed for inside walls like puzzle pieces to sturdy the frame. Taking turns, they rolled fallen logs to the hut for end posts and support. A tall oak tree branch held up the center like a circus tent. Then after a heavy rain, they smeared it all with Georgia red clay, sealing it as the clay dried hard like bricks. Journey was proud of the hut because she helped build it. She never thought about living in the hut, she was just happy to be with Momma while making it together. Those memories were forever embedded in her mind.

Journey untied the makeshift doorway and let herself in that day after tripping Papa to the ground by his shoe laces. She was half hoping to find her sister sleeping in the small cot they made from an old mattress momma picked up off the side of the road. But she wasn’t there.

One thing about living in the country: people drive out to the back roads and throw their trash on the side of the road. Not too often Journey and her mother made a trip walking to the small store three miles away to buy a loaf of bread or a chunk of government cheese. On the way they picked up bottles, old rubber shoes, paper bags and other items to use in the hut.

Why are we picking up trash, Momma?

These were treasures that others discarded. Nothing should go to waste.

We can use it somewhere, smiled Journey.

Momma planned for everything and nothing went to waste. She always found a place or use for everything found on the side of the road. Momma would rinse the bottles real good and fill them with drinking water to stash for an emergency. The used paper bags, bits of wrapping paper and rubber shoes were weaved into the walls like a handmade quilt. Journey loved all the colors that made up the walls of the hut. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

After catching her breath, Journey checked the food supply, tested the ropes, and scanned the walls for leaks just like her mother taught her. Even after a storm the hut was still sturdy. They had worked together creating the hut for years and marveled at how much they had accomplished. They finished the hut just a short three months before Momma had taken to her bed. Her sister Justice thought it was just a silly game, but Journey loved the time she spent here with Momma.

As night fell, Journey peered in the emergency box she and Momma had fashioned out of sticks cemented together with school paste which Journey had brought home from a class project. The box was lined with one of Papa’s leather chaps he used to wear when he was younger and rode a motorcycle. Papa would never miss the leather chaps anyway; he barely changed his clothes these last few years. The leather would ensure the contents would stay as dry as possible. Momma used scissors to ensure it fit just right.

Journey pulled out matches and candle stubs then set them on one of the logs they used as a table. In the glow of candlelight, Journey looked around at her palace and decided she was not leaving tonight. Her Papa would soon pass out from the whiskey and Journey could sneak back home later after giving him time to cool off. But not tonight. She planned on enjoying her freedom tonight. Journey had never made the trip in the dark anyway.

Being in the hut made her feel close to Momma. Every moment in the secluded hut was a gift. A gift from Momma. She missed her sister Justice and wondered if she was safe with her boyfriend. Children at school teased the girls often about their names but momma always told them they should be proud.

A long journey as well as some justice in the world was two things I always wished for but never got in life, Momma said.

That is why you named us?

I named my two girls after my heart’s desire, said Momma.

It never made sense until they were older, what Momma meant by it. Momma never traveled anywhere outside of our small town and the cancer took away her chance for Justice in the world.

Deciding to settle in, Journey pulled the afghan her momma kept from her grandma’s crocheting days tight around her neck as she curled up on the improvised bed. Journey had never stayed the night in the hut before. She had never slept anywhere other than home and even then, she shared a bed with her sister. She had never even gone to the hut