Finding Hope

By Donna Sikes

Finding Hope is a book of innocence stolen, playful days of trust snatched away. Fading memories erase the humor of life. A community that bullies leaves more questions as to why the hatred.
Cyd finds company in her misery as she races through a swamp in hopes of a life with more to offer than just breathing. A swamp that brings more despair, captivity, and for some, death. Forced to question not only the people in her life, but also who she is as nothing she knows to be her past is real.
When finding hope seems impossible, more than the body needs to be rescued. A heart, frozen in hurt and confusion, has to melt.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donna Sikes
• Release date: Dec 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310651809

Donna Sikes

Donna has been writing poems and short stories most of her life. In 2012 she began writing books. A Heart To Believe is her first published work via AuthorHouse. Charli's Angel is her second, via Smashwords. Book II of A Heart To Believe, Flowers In A Mason Jar, will be published, via Smashwords, in December of 2012. A Children's Christmas story is being published via Smashwords in November of 2012. Donna lives with her husband, Allen, in Georgia. They have three children and six grandchildren. They are raising two grandchildren, since their daughter passed away in 2010. Besides writing and raising grandbabies, Donna is now retired.

Book preview

FINDING HOPE

Finding Hope is a book of innocence stolen, playful days of trust snatched away. Fading memories erase the humor of life. A community that bullies leaves more questions as to why the hatred.

Cyd finds company in her misery as she races through a swamp in hopes of a life with more to offer than just breathing. A swamp that brings more despair, captivity, and for some, death. Forced to question not only the people in her life, but also who she is as nothing she knows to be her past is real.

When finding hope seems impossible, more than the body needs to be rescued. A heart, frozen in hurt and confusion, has to melt.

FINDING HOPE

By:

Donna Bryant Sikes

FINDING HOPE

Published by Donna Bryant Sikes at Smashwords

Copyright 2014

By

Donna Bryant Sikes

Cover Art by Miss Mae

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

FINDING HOPE is a work of fiction. Though some actual towns, cities, and locations may be mentioned, they are used in a fictitious manner and the events and occurrences were invented in the mind and imagination of the author. Any similarities of characters or names used within to any person past, present, or future is coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author. Brief quotations may be embodied in critical articles or reviews.

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my husband, Allen. Thank you for your support in putting up with my late night writing, and thank you for your input in this book.

Thank you, Miss Mae, for this great cover. You captured in the cover what I was trying to say in words. I would also like to thank Vicki Yates King for always offering to be a beta reader. I value your friendship.

Chapter I

I guess we all have something about our lives that causes us grief that hangs in there with us until the day we die. Deep-rooted pain is sometimes hard to keep at bay. Just a touch of a sad moment can bring it all down on you again and your emotions spiral out of control. The person you are with thinks wow; you got that upset over this? You can’t tell them; you can’t go into it. They don’t know and they don’t understand.

I am twenty-four years old and this year is 2018, but I am going to take you back to where it all began for me. My life story, or at least the first I remember of it, started when I lived with Gramps. He took me in to live with him when I was a baby. He never talked about it much but I was born in the Central Youth Detention. His only child, Raven, my momma, was in there when I was born. I think Gramps said she was 16. Anyway, they called Gramps to pick me up if he wanted me. I couldn’t have been over three. I don’t think they were supposed to let me even stay there, I don’t know. There was something about an arrangement. My grandmother died a long time ago and Gramps just never remarried, so he told people he took me since momma promised to come get me when she got out. I don’t know who he thought he was fooling. He would have taken me anyway. I used to watch the old winding road for my momma to appear, but I think she just forgot she had me and rode into the sunset.

The people in the detention center played a joke on her. They named me Cyd and went on about how pretty a name it was. My momma told them it was a very pretty name and she felt special that they would think so much of her as to pick out a name for her baby. My birth certificate actually reads ‘Cyd Bunker’ with no father listed. They didn’t tell her they named me for the letters that began the words ‘Central Youth Detention’. They told Gramps one day though, after he called to find out if my momma was still there. I could hear them laughing on the line as he slowly placed the phone back on the receiver. He turned to his buddy, Ralph, and told him that momma had left. They talked a little bit about the arrangement, which I never quite understood, and how bitter the people there were toward my momma because of her special treatment. He told Ralph about how I got my name. Ralph hung his head. That’s pitiful. That’s just pitiful.

We lived on the Flint River in Saltlick, Georgia. I loved it. I didn’t worry about dressing up or combing my long, straight hair. I always wore overalls or cutoffs, depending on the weather. You never know in central Georgia when you get up at the change of seasons if you’ll get frostbite or sunburn. Sometimes you get both in the same day. When I was old enough to start school, the principal, Miss Pruitt, thought Gramps was handsome so she was always calling on us to give him advice on how to dress me and to help him with what she called a routine. I remember her putting a calendar made out of poster paper on the wall one evening in our kitchen. I stood behind Gramps and peeped around while she showed him the time to bathe me and brush my teeth, the time to put me to bed, the time to get me up, what I should wear, and the days my lunch money was to be paid. She peeped around at me. And always say your prayers young lady.

I was so not excited about the adventure of school, but I didn’t realize how tough it would be for me. I missed following Gramps around while he sold worms and scrap metal. I missed sitting on the stool in the pool hall eating those mouth-watering scrambled hamburgers. If I ever craved an ice cream, I just had to plead a headache and we took off to the drug store. I had the river for a back yard and a tire on a rope swinging from a tree, all I needed in my perfect world. I had a lot of laughter. Gramps said I was Raven’s smile, the only thing she gave him that wasn’t misery.

The morning that bus pulled up and honked that horn, I thought my life had ended. It looked like a yellow space ship with a million lights flashing on it. The old lady that drove it wasn’t too nice either. Find a seat and stay seated. Don’t talk and don’t move until I tell you to get off. When I didn’t say anything she yelled, Did you hear me? I was too little to choke her so I just yelled back, Yes sir! I was implying she looked like a man and was daring her to do something about it. I had already heard about suspension from David that lived down the road. He was always telling Gramps he got another three days for doing something horrible. I figured if I tried it, maybe I could get those three days at least once a week until I graduated high school. I had only twelve years to go. David had told me enough that my old dreams of adventures at school had faded a long time ago.

The driver turned toward me in her seat. I am a m'am not a sir! I just stared at her as if I was sorry but didn’t know what she wanted me to do about it. Did you hear me?

Oh great, she not only thinks I’m stupid but deaf too. Sir?

She threw that gear in first and grinded on down the road. I was on that bus an hour before she stopped at my school. I was the last one off so I thought I’d try for that three days again. How old are you?

Her mouth flew wide open and you’d have thought I was a snake that bit her. That is none of your business!

I turned to walk down the steps of the bus when she caught my arm and jerked me around. Why did you ask me how old I am?

I just wondered if you would be retiring soon.

Oh! Well I never!

I turned and walked off the bus. You probably won’t never either.

I was six years old. I had missed kindergarten. I never was around kids that much so Gramps and his buddies were about all I had known up to that point. They tried to watch how they acted, what they said, and what they did around me. Gramps always had to remind them, so I was usually a big kink in their plans, but they didn’t let on to me about it. They didn’t let on to Gramps either. He told them one day that he had to start helping me with some schoolwork so I wouldn’t be behind when I started. Their evenings together consisted, at some point, of going over ABC’s and 123’s with me. I knew even then that if I acted real pitiful and pretend I didn’t catch on, they would play along and I could stay up longer. Ralph would have that concerned look on his face. I think she may need a tutor. She seems a little slow.

I walked into that first grade class to girls in dresses with hair bows. They looked like Easter Sunday when the girls down the road hopped in their daddy’s car to go to church. My teacher was Mrs. Waters. She was about the sweetest person I had ever met. She put me in the back at the table with a boy that was crying his heart out. It was obvious he was a lap baby, and not too happy with the turn of events. We had to draw a picture that morning. I have always been somewhat of an artist so I drew a baby’s face with tears flying out of his eyes and showed it to him. He just cried that much harder. He cried clear up to time for lunch. By then, I just wanted to cry with him.

Before we went home, Mrs. Waters put us in the corner of the room where the kitchen was. She told us to play and bake something. I was used to cooking with real food so it seemed a waste of good energy for me to use plastic pans and food. Besides, there were too many kids in that little kitchen, so I sat at the window and looked off into the woods. My mind drifted to a sunny day when I caught my last bass. I could still see the water glistening in the sun and the size of that bass hanging on the pole as Gramps helped me get it to the bank. Mrs. Waters interrupted my daydreaming when she knelt beside me. Hey sweetie, how are you doing your first day?

I’m fine. How much longer before we take the bus home?

She laughed. We have another hour. I am going to sit you all in a circle in a few minutes and tell you a story. Do you like stories?

I guess so.

What is your favorite story?

I like the stories Gramps tells his buddies after we’ve been fishing. They’re always funny stories and the fish aren’t ever as big as he says they are.

Would you like to tell one of those stories today?

I thought a minute then shrugged. Sure.

She called everybody into the reading circle. Boys and girls, we are going to sit criss-cross applesauce and listen to Cyd tell us a story.

It seemed like a good idea until everybody sat and stared at me. I cleared my throat and tried to think of how the stories went. I go fishing with Gramps a lot. We live on the riverbank. We never know what will be on the line when we reel it in. Sometimes it’s a big fish and sometimes it’s a snake.

The mention of that word set the girls off. They squealed so loud I got nervous and forgot what I was going to say. Mrs. Waters told me to take my seat. She picked up a book and began to read. It was a story about the alphabet, which I had known since I was four. By the time the bell rang, I was the first to get in line. I had fought boredom long enough.

I knew Gramps wasn’t home because our neighbor, Minnie, stood at the mailbox to greet the driver so she would let me off. She and the driver got into a discussion about my attitude. The ride had been so long that half the first graders wet their pants. I almost did, but as soon as that bus stopped, I ran behind a big bush in the back yard and let her rip. I didn’t stop until that bus was clean out of site.

Minnie was half way back to her house when I found my key. She turned and waved before I went inside. I don’t know what the driver told her but Minnie was cracking up.

There was a can of beanie weanies, a tomato, and some bread and butter on the table with a note ‘eat’. Gramps was always glad when I had supper done and he didn’t have to cook it. When he got home, he made over what he called a feast. There weren’t any leftovers either. My favorite part was doing the dishes. I pulled my stool up to the sink to see how high I could make suds, and I sang. Gramps always said I sounded like a songbird.

You got any homework?

I did it on the bus. They are teaching us alphabet and easy words.

Were you bored today?

Yes sir. David said if I let them know I already know what they are teaching they might make me go to a higher grade where I have to study real hard.

He’s got a point there.

I wiggled my nose and sneezed three times. My nose automatically twitches before I sneeze, something Gramps always thought was funny. Okay there twitch. Don’t come down with a cold.

That was his name for me from then on, Twitch. I thought at one point it was the cause of all my problems, but it was just another excuse to bully me. I think Gramps had just been looking for something else to call me since he heard how I got my real name. He didn’t realize others would use it against me.

I hung the dry cloth over the cabinet door just as he walked by and pulled my hair. Let’s grab a fishing pole before it gets dark.

We had a routine. Grandpa grabbed the poles and I grabbed the tackle box. We sat a few yards away from each other because he said he had his sweet spot at the water and I had mine. He taught me a long time ago to be quiet and watch the bobber. I sat on the bank that particular evening for what seemed like an eternity before something grabbed my line. My pent up energy from the day sent me jumping up and grabbing the pole in a frenzy. I jerked back but the fish swam toward me. I rushed backward to take the slack out of the line when I tripped over an old tree root. I lost my grip on the pole and fell backward to the ground. I heard Gramps advice, as always, as I hurried to get a grip on the pole again. The line had become so loose it wrapped around my ankle. When I stood