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The Healing Hills

By Ruth Kyser

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Author's Notes
I first saw Cades Cove in 1973. My sister and I visited the area, and I was completely unprepared for the feelings that would rush over me at my first glimpse of this magical place. I've never been able to find another spot in the world that rivals the beauty of the Great Smoky Mountain National Park (although I have to admit I haven't traveled everywhere).
My husband and I were fortunate enough to return to the area this past spring, and the journey brought back so many memories to me of that wonderful vacation when I was a young woman--filled with lofty hopes and dreams. Like Carrie in this book, the first time I got out of the car and took a breath of the fresh mountain air, I felt like I'd come home.
During my recent visit to the area I discovered there were, of course, many changes. A lot of the highways we now use weren't totally constructed back then. Instead, we traversed the area on two-lane roads that twisted and turned through the hills. Instead of four or six-lane highways, you crept along on roads over rickety narrow bridges that spanned the many rivers and creeks.
I was also shocked by the amount of traffic traversing through the Cove daily. When I first saw Cades Cove in 1973, there were still a few folks living in houses on the property--acting as caretakers of the land and livestock. We also didn't have the beautifully paved road to drive on through the Cove. The Loop Road was there, but you often had to drive through the rushing water of streams and creeks. Now I can only think of one spot on the Loop Road where you actually drive through the water from a creek--and I'm guessing in late summer, that water isn't even there.
What astonished me more than anything though was the vandalism I saw in the old historic cabins. The sight of people's names and other not-so-nice-things carved into the walls and wooden mantel inside the Henry Whitehead cabin just about broke my heart. I am unable to understand why anyone would want to destroy anything so historic and precious. What the people who do these things don't understand is, once the damage is done, it's done. There's no way to fix it. When I first saw the cabins of Cades Cove, they were still relatively untouched by vandals, and it was easy to envision what it must have been like to live in that area back in the 1800s -- even into the early 1900s. For someone who loves history as much as I do, it was an awesome experience.
It's still an awesome experience.
I pray all of you who read this book can someday experience the beauty and peace of Cades Cove for yourself. If you do go though, I would ask that you remember and respect the people that came before you--those pioneers who built the cabins and barns, and farmed those fields all around the valley. Especially remember that the bear, wild turkeys, deer, and foxes are not there for your entertainment. The Cove is not a zoo. Cades Cove and the mountains and woods surrounding the Cove are their home. Watch them living in their natural habitat -- at a distance, please.
Enjoy the beauty and peace of God's creation all around you, have respect for those who came before you in that marvelous place, and help to save it for future generations.
In Christ's love, Ruth Kyser
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Chapter 1

After dragging her out of her bed in the darkness, the man straddled her body, holding her down on the floor with his left hand braced on her right shoulder and ripping at her nightgown with his other hand. She struggled and fought him with her legs, hands and fists, and screamed out in terror. He slapped her in the face, and the punch he landed on her jaw with his balled up fist made her senses reel. He beat on her body a couple more times with the same fist before his left hand clamped down over her nose and mouth to stop her from screaming. His hand greatly limited her ability to breathe, and while she struggled to get oxygen into her burning lungs, she prayed she would lose consciousness before the man was able to complete the act she knew was planned. She saw him pull out a knife and felt the coldness of the blade as he held it to her neck. Her time was up.
"God help me," she prayed silently. "Somebody, please help"
-----

Carrie Montgomery gasped as her mind struggled to release itself from the nightmare that had haunted her sleep for months. Some would say it was just a bad dream, but to her it was so much more; she had lived it. She saw up in her bed and gulped in deep breaths of air, then swung her legs over the edge of the bed and dropped her head into her hands, flexing and rubbing her jaw with her right hand. He had almost broken her jaw with that first punch, and she had worn the bruises of the beating on her face and body for many weeks. After the man responsible for stalking her and then attacking her almost a year earlier had been caught and sentenced to twenty years in jail, she had prayed the bad dreams would ease, but she was still having them several times a week.
Would she ever feel safe again?
A glance at the alarm clock on her bedside stand told her it was only six-thirty in the morning. There was no need for her to get up so early, but after having the recurring nightmare, she was positive there would be no going back to sleep.
Carrie took a deep breath and exhaled it, then stood up and headed to her bathroom for a quick shower. She might as well get her day underway.
Fifteen minutes later Carrie was dressed, and had plaited her long, blond hair into a single braid. Dressed in casual jeans and her favorite Tennessee Volunteer tee shirt, she headed toward the aroma of coffee wafting from the direction of the apartment's kitchen. She found her best friend and roommate, Ashlyyn Connors, seated at the small kitchen table, nibbling at a slice of toast, and sipping her mug of coffee. Carrie saw the surprise on her face as she looked in her direction.
"Why are you up so early, Carrie? You're supposed to be on vacation, remember?"
Carrie grabbed a clean mug from the cupboard and poured herself a cup of the steaming brew, inhaling the aroma and feeling extra thankful this morning for things like strong cups of coffee. What with staying up late the night before packing for her trip, it had been a short night.
"It's not really a vacation, Ash. Remember?"
Her friend frowned and turned her attention back to the last bit of toast on her plate. "I remember. It just sounds so much better than saying you're on a forced medical leave."
Pulling out a chair, Carrie grimaced and took a seat across from her friend. After having several panic attacks and meltdown in a classroom filled with second graders, the school administration had reluctantly made the decision she needed to take some time off, and she couldn't argue with them. She'd gone through months of therapy after the attack and she thought she had been making progress. So, why was she falling apart now?
"I think the term 'mental health leave' would be more appropriate," she finally mumbled.
Ashlynn looked at her over the rim of her mug. "After what you went through< Carrie, you deserve some time off, even it if is forced." She took a sip of her coffee and put the mug back down on the table. "Besides, how long has it been since you've been to Tennessee to visit your aunt?"
Carrie felt her lips curve up in a little smile at the mention of her great-aunt. "About fifteen years, I think."
Happy childhood memories swept through her mind as treasured recollections of sunny summer days spent on her aunt's and uncle's farm were recalled. If only going back to the mountains would erase all that had happened to her in the last fifteen years--although she had to admit, not all of those years had been bad. Most of the time, she was fairly happy with her life. She'd graduated from college, landed a job she loved as an elementary school teacher, and made some terrific friends.
She'd even had a serious boyfriend--for a while--until the attack had taken Sean from her too. At the thought of how Sean had dumped her, she grabbed a glazed donut from the box on the table and gobbled it down--even though she knew it wasn't good for her, and then swallowed the last of her tepid coffee.
She stood and left the kitchen, giving a little wave to Ashlynn as she departed. There was no sense stalling; she might as well finish packing and get on the road. It wouldn't be long anyway and Ashlynn would be leaving for her teaching job at the school, and Carrie didn't want to be left in the apartment alone any longer than necessary. Since the attack, it had been difficult for her to feel safe anywhere. They had talked about finding someplace else to live, but even with their pooled resources, they couldn't afford to move right now.
No; it was best she just get on with her life and try to put what happened behind her. Unfortunately though, because of what the psychologist had called her 'stressed mental state', she'd been told she couldn't go back to her teaching job until the next school year in September--at the soonest. That same psychologist had told her it would do her good to spend some time away from the city--somewhere with family--maybe in the country would be best. She had orders to continue her therapy sessions during the summer, and would have to have clearance to return to the classroom in the fall.
Hopefully that wouldn't be a problem.
Carrie had originally thought about going to Charlotte, North Carolina to visit her parents, but then her mom had suggested visiting Carrie's great aunt in southeastern Tennessee instead; someplace she hadn't been in years. Her mom passed the word along that Aunt Myrtle would love to see her, and Carrie decided it couldn't hurt to get away from everything and everyone in her life in Lexington for a while. There were too many painful memories here.
So, she'd reluctantly agreed, seeing it as a way to escape. Maybe if she wasn't here in Lexington for a while...maybe she'd be able to forget what had happened to her here. At least that was what she was hoping.
-----

Driving down the two-lane curvy road, with the waters of a rushing river on one side and the steep rocky sides of the mountains on the other, Carrie took in the scenery around her and smiled. As she relished in the feeling of the fresh mountain air sweeping through the open car windows, she was instantly transported back to her childhood--to a time when the arrival of summer meant a trip to the hills of Tennessee for a visit. It had been far too long since she'd been here.
Seeing the familiar mountains around her, it almost felt like she had come home.
She glanced over at the clock on the car's dashboard long enough so see it was almost noon. Unfortunately, she hadn't left Lexington as early as she would have liked due to a bunch of errands, including gassing up the car. She'd also had to drop by the school long enough to visit the administrative building and sign some papers. Because of all the errands, it had been later than she'd planned before she'd been able to leave the southern suburbs of Lexington and catch I-75 to head south. Carrie had enjoyed the drive through the rolling hills of Kentucky. The grass was just beginning to show shades of green, and she gazed out her car window to see horses gracefully grazing in pastures surrounded by miles and miles of bright white painted fences. Horse country.
She hated having to leave her classroom and her students in charge of a sub, but hopefully she'd be able to come back to Lexington in the fall and resume her teaching job again--as long as the school psychologist gave her the go ahead. At least, that is what they had told her and she really hoped they weren't lying to her. She hadn't even had an opportunity to say goodbye to her students.
Now she was here in the small town of her memories. Noon probably wasn't the best time to arrive at her aunt's restaurant, but she had no choice but to go there first. Aunt Myrtle was in possession of the key to her family's old cabin where Carrie was staying.
She drove slowly across what looked to be a new bridge that spanned the Little River and headed toward her aunt's restaurant on the other side of town. The small town of five hundred people didn't look like it had changed much over the years. There were still two churches, several restaurants, and a couple of motels and gas stations. Most of the tourists that came to visit the Smoky Mountains weren't looking for the peace and quiet they would find here in this small town. Gatlinburg, Sevierville, Pigeon Forge, and Maryville received most of the tourists. But fortunately, because of the town's proximity to the Smoky Mountains National Park and Cades Cove, there were still enough visitors to the area who wanted a quieter, more peaceful experience that the small businesses in town were able to stay open.
The building that housed "Meyers Place", her aunt's restaurant, looked much the same as it had fifteen years earlier. The one story structure had a covered porch running the full length of the front, and boasted a green metal roof and bright red shutters at all the windows. The large sign assured 'good home cookin', and from what Carrie remembered, her aunt had always kept that promise.
Carrie pulled off the main road and drove into the gravel parking lot and parked in a spot away from the building, leaving the prime spots for the restaurant's patrons; although she was planning to eat her lunch here. Her mouth watered just at the thought of the good food she knew awaited her inside the restaurant.
She opened her car door and stepped out and took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air. it was a sunny day in late April, and the warmth of the sun felt good on her back, but the air around her still held the fresh coolness of the mountain air. Carrie stood for a moment and slowly turned in a circle as her eyes took in the vista of the mountains all around her. This small town was nestled in a valley in the Smokies, and the rolling hiss surrounding her had areas that were almost lavender and white with the hues of the blossoming red bed trees and the flowering dogwoods. She knew it wouldn't be long and the mountain laurel and rhododendrons would add their variety of color to the hillsides.
She felt some of the tenseness of the past months fall from her shoulders as she turned and headed toward the restaurant. The sound of the bell clanging above the door brought a smile to her face as she entered the building. To the right was a counter with a cash register and a rack of postcards, and booths and tables and chairs sat on her left. It looked much the same as it had the last time she had seen it. Carrie had no more than cleared the doorway when she heard a familiar voice call out.
"There's my girl!" Her Aunt Myrtie, more gray and wrinkled than fifteen years earlier, rushed from behind the counter and enveloped her in a hug that took Carrie back to her childhood. Aunt Myrtie smelled like lilacs, French fries, and onions. She smelled like home.
Carrie's stomach growled in response and she heard her aunt's chuckle as she released her from her hug.
"Carolyn Elizabeth Montgomery, it has been FAR too long since you have graced us with your presence. If your mom hadn't send me photos of you over the years, I never would have recognized you."
Her aunt's voice was firm, but the smile on her face told Carrie how much love was behind the words. Aunt Myrtie pulled her back into a hug.
"I was so upset when your mom called and told me what happened to you," she spoke quietly into Carrie's ear. "What's this world acomin' to? Well," her aunt stated as she pulled away again. "Sit yourself down at this table here and we're going to get you some lunch.
Carrie felt herself being tugged toward a small table and chair in the corner nearest the counter and gratefully took a seat. Her aunt sat down across the table from her, and looked at her expectantly.
"What sounds good to you for lunch, Carrie girl?"
She grinned at her aunt and shook her head. "Aunt Myrtie, I don't even know what's on the menu anymore. How about a burger and fries? That's always good."
Aunt Myrtie chuckled and stood from the table, patting Carrie on the shoulder as she stood next to her. "And how about a piece of my cherry pie for dessert?"
Carrie grinned up at her aunt. "You remember."
"Of course!" her aunt stated as she strode in the direction of the kitchen.
After Aunt Myrtie left her table, Carrie spent some time gazing around the small restaurant at the other patrons. Most of them looked like they could be locals; there were a couple of older gentlemen wearing bib overalls sitting in the far booth, sipping on coffee and finishing off slices of pie; a young couple sat in another booth, and an older woman sat at one of the table with two pre-teens. There was a man in an business suit at a small table, eating alone; Carrie was fairly sure he wasn't a local. And there was an older couple who looked like they were traveling through the area also. Carrie noticed they were studying a map on the table in front of them, so it was obvious they were not from around here.
Then her gaze turned to decor of the restaurant. Aunt Myrtie had always taken pride in the neatness and cleanliness of the place, and it was obvious that hadn't changed over the years. Bright curtains hung at the spotless windows, and the walls looked like they were freshly painted a creamy off-white. And the floor--which was still the old original black and white checked tiles--had enough wax on them, they shone. Framed paintings depicting various scenes of the local countryside and historic buildings decorated most of the walls.
Carrie turned a little in her seat so she could better see one of the paintings hanging on the wall closest to her table. It was an oil painting of what she knew to be a cabin out at Cades Cove. She struggled to remember which one. Was it the John Oliver cabin, or the Elijah Oliver cabin? It had been so long since she had been out there, she couldn't remember. Either way, the painting was beautiful, with the low branches of a dogwood appearing in the picture just in front of the cabin. Sunlight filtered down through the trees, giving the whole area an almost heavenly glow. It looked so peaceful, and gazing at the painting gave Carrie a sense of contentment. She rose a little from her chair and tried to make out the tiny signature in the left corner. There was what looked like an "M" or maybe it was an "n", and was the last name Jones, or maybe Johnson?
She sat back down in her chair with a plop as her aunt placed a plate of hot food in front of her, along with a frosty glass of cola and a bottle of catsup. Carrie grinned as she saw the food. She was hungrier than she'd thought and it smelled heavenly.
"Thank you, Aunt Myrtie. This looks great!"
She felt her aunt's eyes rest on her a moment, then move to the painting Carrie had been studying. "Isn't it pretty? That painting there was done by Neil Johnston, a local artist." She gestured with her right hand in the direction of the rest of the restaurant. "All these were done by him. He's got a gallery at the other end of town you'll have to check out while you're here. He's also a big time photographer--even sells some of his stuff to national magazines, and he's done some sculptures too. The town's real proud of him."
Carrie shook her head. "I'm not in the market for paintings, Aunt Myrtie." She looked back up at the one on the wall next to her. "Although this is really nice. Maybe I'll visit the shop while I'm here. We'll see."
Aunt Myrtie touched her lightly on the shoulder. "Well, I'll let you eat your meal in peace and check back with you later. I need to get back to work anyway. You just let me know if you need anything else, sweetie. Okay? I'm so glad you're here. Now you just take your time and enjoy your food."
Carrie didn't hesitate to dig into the burger, savoring the taste of what she knew was locally raised beef. After she'd eaten most of the sandwich and half of the fries, she finally took time to watch her aunt in action. The lunch crowd had thinned out and there were now only a few stragglers left in the restaurant, finishing their meals or nursing their mugs of coffee. Since the noon rush was over, Aunt Myrtie sat on a stood behind the counter and directed two young women who were obviously waitressing for her on what to do next. She called one of them out of the kitchen with a large plastic tub to bus tables, and sent the other one out onto the floor with two pots of hot coffee to do refills. All this while making change for those customers ready to pay their bill.
Carrie shook her head. Her Aunt Myrtie was amazing.
Myrtle Meyers was really Carrie's great aunt--her mom's aunt, and the youngest sister of Carrie's grandmother. Myrtle was the last living member of that generation of the family, and Carrie knew she had to be in her early seventies. She sure didn't look it though. When she turned her hazel eyes on you, they were sharp and clear, and even though she wore glasses, those eyes took in everything around her. She kept her graying and wavy hair cut about chin length, and the wrinkles on her face were few. Aunt Myrtie had always been a classy dresser too. Today she was wearing black dress slacks and an aqua colored embroidered caftan top, covered with a freshly washed and bleached white apron emblazoned with the "Meyers Place" logo. Sliver stud earrings sparkled in her ear lobes, and a silver brooch in the shape of a butterfly was pinned at her shoulder.
Aunt Myrtle was a widow, having lost her husband, Jasper Meyers, the summer Carrie was last here. He had been killed unexpectedly in a car accident one night coming home from town. Aunt Myrtie had already owned the restaurant, so she had simply picked up the pieces of her life and continued on, and Carrie had always admired her aunt for her get-it-done attitude.
Myrtie had two sons, Ralph and Walter, who both lived in Nashville, Tennessee with their wives and children. Carrie didn't know how often either of them made it home to visit their mom, but from what she could remember, they had seemingly turned their back on life here in the small town of their childhood. It made Carrie sad to think they didn't appreciate their mother as much as they should.
By the time Aunt Myrtie returned to Carrie's table with a huge slice of cherry pie, topped with a generous mound of vanilla ice cream, she had finished all of her lunch except for a few French fries. She groaned as her aunt placed the plate of pie on the table with one hand and picked up the dirty dishes with the other.
"Aunt Myrtie, that slice of pie is huge."
The older woman chuckled. "I wanted my favorite niece to have a piece large enough she'll never forget what it tastes like."
Carrie grinned up at her. "I've never forgotten how good your pies are, Aunt Myrtie. Thank you."
Her aunt gave her a smile filled with love and started to turn away. "You finish that and then I'll give you a tour of the kitchen so you can meet my new cook. Charlie is a gem. He runs the place in the late afternoons and again for the evening crowd. That way I only have to work until 2 o'clock. God was good when He sent Charlie my way. I don't know what I'd do without him."
She watched her aunt walk away and turned her attention back to the warm piece of pie in front of her with vanilla ice cream melting down the sides. Picking up her fork, she took a bit of the dessert, almost moaning out loud as the tart yet sweet flavors hit her tongue.
"Oh,Aunt Myrtie. If you keep feeding me like this, I'll be as big as a whale before I go home."

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