The police eventually identified Delaney from newspaper reports. Walking up to the front door of Delaney's parents' house to inform them of their daughter's death, Delaney's dad responded to the police with, "Delaney who?"
When he was informed of their granddaughter, he told the police he didn't care and to leave him alone.
*~*~*~*
Casey threw herself into Tabbie's arms and wept long… broken… sobs.
Tabbie rubbed her back as she tried to soothe the heaving cries, but Tabbie knew it was more than the story that was causing the emotions to surface. Many long moments went by as Casey’s back convulsed in tormented sobs.
"I love you, Casey," Tabbie whispered. "You’re a beautiful, lost daughter of Father in Heaven and He wants you to come back to Him."
Casey's heaving quieted while she listened to Tabbie’s calming voice, laying her head across Tabbie's lap and kneeling before her chair. Tabbie continued to gently rub the tension from her shoulders and back with the flats of her gnarly hands. Casey eventually lifted her head and with a pain-filled expression, gazed directly into Tabbie's deep blue eyes. They seemed to be an even deeper blue than she remembered.
"Aunt Tabbie?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Would you mind if I told you something about me?"
"I would be honoured, my love."
*~*~*~*
Chapter 15
Casey wiped away the tears from her eyes while a vulnerable pleading expression crossed her face, begging the old lady for love and understanding. Assured of Tabbie’s trustworthiness, Casey smiled a watery smile as Tabbie stroked her face, giving her the confidence to trust the old lady's integrity and her love.
As she began her story, she stammered, "I..I didn't know my father. Apparently I was a mistake, a product of a drunken one night stand. I’ve been in and out of foster homes and institutions since my mother left me as a baby in a public hospital. I’ve had to fight all my life and I've been beaten and abused everywhere I've gone. I felt sure I had done something that caused people to dislike me; and the treatment I got, I somehow deserved. I've met my mother and she wanted me back when she thought she could get some money from me to buy drugs, then dumped me again when it didn't happen." Casey's eyes moistened over again and a lone tear dropped to the floor, with a plop.
Tabbie reached for the wounded girl's hand and held onto it, watching a kaleidoscope of emotions scroll across her face as she described a life totally bereft of parental love and guidance. She saw anger, rejection, pain of every description and then a hollow, empty place that should have been filled with love by loving parents. Tabbie understood Casey's struggle with trust and the literal tug of war that went on inside the girl's heart. The need for love, yet the deep seeded distrust of humanity that had used and abused her. Tabbie also knew the courage it took to describe a life full of negatives and pain, and then the freedom that comes when someone genuinely cares enough to open their heart, and love without any expectations...
The love of a parent.
The need for love is basic to the healthy development of every child; to be held and cherished. Casey's need for love was overwhelming her desire to protect herself and she had taken her first major steps toward healing and wholeness; but now, she couldn't get enough of Tabbie's love and time. She had a lot of love to catch up on.
But Tabbie understood that one too.
*~*~*~*
A bewildered policeman stood at the door for some time witnessing the sight, wiping his eyes with his hands and smiling a teary smile at Tabbie. Casey sat at Tabbie's feet with her head resting on Tabbie's knees, revelling in a new emotion...
Love.
No strings attached.
Both giving.
And receiving.
From his position at the door, Constable Palmer watched Tabbie rub Casey's back as she spoke into Casey's wounded heart. Palmer hated to break up the scene playing out so lovingly, but it was already later than he wanted and he’d been constantly reprimanded by Greyton staff for bringing Casey back after they had locked the gates. He knocked on the glass and pointed to his watch, trying to avoid another unwelcome reprimand from Greyton. Casey glanced up at him with red, puffy eyes, embarrassed he had seen her breakdown.
Tabbie lifted her face and peered into her eyes. "Never be afraid or ashamed to show love, Casey. You have so much to give."
"I wish you were my mother!" Casey suddenly announced.
"Is the position vacant?" Tabbie teased.
"It sure is!" Casey decided.
"Then I apply, Casey. Can I be your mum?"
"Are you serious?!" Casey almost shouted.
"Couldn't be more serious, my love."
Casey threw her arms around Tabbie. "I love you," she whispered quietly.
"I love you too, Casey, with all my heart."
"Can I come back for more story tomorrow?" Casey pleaded.
"You’re now officially my daughter, so you have authorized, unrestricted rights to more story whenever you want."
Casey wheeled Tabbie up to the door to say goodbye for the night then hugged Tabbie, and Tabbie planted a kiss on her cheek.
"Your mum loves you."
Palmer glanced at Tabbie quizzically with this new revelation.
"I need to speak to you, sir. Can you give me a call tonight?" Tabbie whispered.
"Sure, Tabbie. No problem."
*~*~*~*
Tabbie put down the phone to Constable Palmer and lifted the receiver, dialling again. The phone rang in the earpiece and then clicked. A woman answered.
"Hello."
"Hi, dear, it's just me."
"Tabbie, sweetie, how are you doing?"
"Oh, I'm a bit tired, but feeling pretty good. It's all organised to go ahead."
"Okay, good," the woman answered.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Tabbie asked, making sure the woman hadn't changed her mind.
"Of course. Why wouldn't we...? You've been telling Gwendolyn's story, haven't you?"
"Yes and I guess after all these years, I still have trouble believing it."
"I love you, Tabbie," the woman offered.
"Thank you, dear. I love you, too."
*~*~*~*
Tabbie lay back on her bed and prayed fervently for Casey. She had opened up to Tabbie and Father was doing a work in her heart. It was just a pity that she wouldn't be around to see Casey grow up into the woman Father had planned. She breathed a contented sigh, but the stiffness in her legs was getting worse and she couldn't move them at all now, totally dependent on the nurses to get her in and out of bed.
Just then, Matron and the doctor entered her room. "How are you doing, Tabbie?" the doctor enquired.
"As well as can be expected, Doctor. Or are you supposed to say that?" Tabbie giggled.
The doctor nervously glanced at Matron and then back down at Tabbie.
"It’s best you just come out with it and say what is on your mind, Doctor. I don't think you can surprise me anymore," Tabbie challenged.
"Arr... can you... that is, would you… tell us about Jesus?" The doctor appeared vulnerable and sheepish.
"Well...! I take back my last statement. And I would be delighted to tell you about my Jesus."
*~*~*~*
Chapter 16
Tabbie sat in her usual position, waiting in the lounge room for Casey's arrival, looking forward to her visits just as much as Casey did. As she sat staring out into the garden, she became uneasy when the time ticked past and Casey hadn’t arrived. Then finally, Constable Palmer strode determinedly down the corridor... without Casey and the look on Palmer's face alarmed Tabbie.
"What's happened?" Tabbie rasped nervously.
"Casey has had her visits suspended until further notice."
"Why?!" Tabbie moaned.
"Apparently, some of the girls in her dorm were picking on her about the sudden change in her appearance and she got into a fight," Palmer explained.
Tabbie sighed lo
udly. "Old Nick just doesn't give up, does he?!" Tabbie complained crossly.
"Sorry…?!" Palmer seemed confused.
“Never mind. Have you got the number for Greyton, Mr Palmer?" Tabbie demanded, shaking off his enquiry.
"It won't do any good, Tabbie. They’re adamant; she’s suspended."
"We’ll see about that. Father, if you want Casey here, then make a way," Tabbie prayed. "Phone number please, Mr Palmer!" Tabbie demanded again.
Palmer walked outside and a few minutes later, Tabbie placed the phone back down on the cradle and called out to him. "Can you go and pick up my daughter please, Mr Palmer?!"
Palmer stared incredulously at Tabbie. "You're kidding me!"
"Oh and the time they’ve wasted, cutting down her outing, will be added to the end of today's visit. So don't get concerned about the gate curfew," Tabbie added.
Palmer tried to make sense of what had just happened and peered at the old lady in disbelief. He’d just witnessed a small miracle, for Greyton never moved on the decisions they made, especially when a fight was involved.
*~*~*~*
Casey's emotions were tumbling around inside her head. Tabbie knew about her fight and now, she was unsure how Tabbie would react toward her. Would she withdraw her love and treat her with contempt? She convinced herself that Tabbie wouldn't want her as her daughter now. She turned to Palmer as they walked through Greyton’s gates, heading for the waiting police car.
"How did you get them to drop the suspension?" Casey mumbled.
"I didn't; your mum did," Palmer replied, still consumed with unbelief.
"My... mum…?! Tabbie!" Casey suddenly realised.
"Mmm, your mum," Palmer shook his head again.
"My mum!"
Casey suddenly beamed.
However, Casey dawdled behind Palmer as they walked up to the lounge room, fear written across her face as Tabbie came into view.
Tabbie's bright blue eyes were like beacons searching a dark horizon. When Casey finally caught Tabbie's attention, a huge smile broke out across Tabbie's face and she opened her arms wide. Casey saw the love on her mum's face and ran up to her and fell into her arms.
"I was so afraid you wouldn't want me anymore," she sniffed, revelling in Tabbie's love.
"Sweetheart, my love isn't conditional. We all make mistakes in our judgement and do things we regret. That isn't a reason to stop loving."
Casey was stunned by this concept. Before when she did anything wrong, it was followed by swift consequences... a beating or being shunted to another foster home or institution. "So… am I still your daughter?" Casey nervously asked.
"Of course! Loving mums don't give up on their kids just because they make mistakes. But please, Casey, don't get drawn into how the devil does business. The other kids would be seeing how you are changing and would be threatened by you. They’ll do whatever they can to drag you back into their way of doing things." Tabbie handed Casey a piece of paper with her number on it. "I’ve been meaning to give you my number so that if you want to call me, to talk about fighting or what the other kids are saying, you can."
Casey took the piece of paper like it was a scroll of great importance and placed it in her Greyton uniform shirt. Tabbie noticed the uniform and suspected that Casey was expecting her rejection and the uniform was her way of preparing herself for it. At least the face jewellery hadn't made a comeback.
Palmer stuck his head in the lounge room from around the glass door. "You won't have to lock the door. I've got some other business to attend to today and I’ll pick Casey up around five, okay?"
Casey's eyes were wide as she peered at Tabbie. "He's leaving?!"
"Yes, darling. Trust goes both ways."
Casey settled on the floor next to Tabbie's chair and held her mum's hand. She’d learnt a valuable lesson on Father's love and forgiveness, through the loving arms of one of His special people.
"Now, Casey, where did we get up to?" Tabbie smiled, still holding Casey's hand.
"They found the baby and Delaney had just died," Casey offered.
"Oh, yes, that's right."
Tabbie remembered...
*~*~*~*
The stigma attached to a child born into stark poverty and homelessness, without a parent to stand up for them, is complete. It’s a stigma that follows a child wherever they go and affects their chances of a normal life. Most likely, they are drawn into gangs of other similarly affected people and they use criminal methods to strike back at the privileged of the world around them. Settling the score, so to speak.
The rift between the haves and have nots triggers social classes and if you have not, it is almost impossible to break free of your circumstances; unless someone steps in to change that cycle and remove the child from the destructive background.
Delaney's baby was taken to a hospital close by and once it was known that she was a vagrant's child, the cycle of discrimination began in earnest. No one would be picking up the tab for the child's bills and the law would make her a ward of the state, leaving the government-run hospital to cover the expenses for Gwendolyn, further burdening an already tight budget.
A doctor walked into the nursery and searched around for the infant and then finding her, stood in front of the squirming child, pleased that the nurses had done such a good job cleaning her up since his last examination. He looked down at the child's chart and noticed she had gained weight in the past three days, but there was still no name in the space on the paperwork or her crib, and there wasn't much chance anyone would be claiming her anytime soon. He glanced around the room and peered out through the window that families used to view their newborns. Just then, a delivery woman walked down the corridor with a bunch of flowers for a new mother and across her back was written, Gwendolyn's Florist.
The doctor smiled and wrote Gwendolyn on her chart, a name that would be finally adopted as her own.
*~*~*~*
The door to the doctor's office burst open and uninvited, Marlene Styles marched in and flopped down in a chair like a deflating plastic bag in front of the doctor.
"I have come for the vagrant child," she demanded, interrupting his phone conversation.
The doctor faced the woman, still speaking to the person on the end of the phone. As he lifted his head, he took in a square-looking, no-nonsense young businesswoman and on her shirt pocket was a name tag.
Marlene Styles, Department of Child Welfare.
The doctor held up his finger in a gesture for silence, but she leaned into him, stomped her finger on the hang up button and repeated, "I said, I have come for the vagrant child!"
"Excuse me, madam. That was an important phone call!"
"So call them back, once you have given me the child's documents."
The doctor took her name down and obediently handed the overbearing woman Gwendolyn's papers.
*~*~*~*
The phone rang in the doctor's ear, becoming more incensed at the behaviour of the child welfare representative. The phone clicked and a nasally sounding receptionist answered.
"Department of Child Welfare."
"Yes, my name is Doctor Robinson and I would like to talk to Marlene Styles' superior, please."
"I am afraid you can't, Doctor Robinson," the receptionist replied.
"And why would that be?" the doctor responded, his anger growing.
"She is the boss."
*~*~*~*
Tabbie felt Casey's hand tighten around hers. She was well acquainted with the foolishness and audacity of bureaucrats, just doing a job and making unwise decisions that would negatively impact innocent lives, with dire consequences.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 17
By the time Gwendolyn was one year old, she had been through a number of foster homes and institutions but her hospital visits had also been regular. Strange bruises and gashes were explained away by Child Welfare. Ugly rashes from remaining too long in soiled and wet nappies had to be treated, before she was shunted onto yet
another foster family.
Doctor Robinson recognised Gwendolyn in an impromptu visit after a supposed fall and noted she looked skinny and drawn. Once Marlene Styles arrived, after being informed of Gwendolyn's hospitalisation, Doctor Robinson took her to task about Gwendolyn's condition.
"Just mind your own business, Doctor Robinson. The vagrant child is my responsibility!" Marlene snapped. "If you don't watch your step, Doctor Smart-Mouth, I’ll see that you make it onto our watch list!"
Bonding into a family was made practically impossible by the constant interference of Child Welfare and if Gwendolyn looked like she was being accepted, then they would move her on. Gwendolyn learnt early that she was different and that getting the love and attention other children got was always just out of her reach.
She did, however, get attention.
If she couldn't get it by being cute and adorable like the other kids, then she had a secret weapon and when it came to sharing toys with the other institutionalised children, Gwendolyn was always left out. Until she finally found an equalizer and a means to get her way.
"Gwendolyn, you rotten little child, that’s Michael's toy. Give it back immediately!"
The statement would be followed by a hiding and Gwendolyn would cry alone in a corner after the spanking but then one day, she discovered a weapon.
A squabble broke out and as usual, Gwendolyn was at the centre of it. Michael had taken a toy that Gwendolyn had adopted. The toy was so ugly that no one else wanted it and just because she was playing with it, Michael snatched it. In an instant and just before the carer could move in and break up the squabble, Gwendolyn grabbed a toy baseball bat and brought it down over Michael's head, knocking him out cold. Gwendolyn received plenty of attention from all kinds of people over that incident and was even moved to another institution. If she couldn't obtain love from being good, she would settle for any attention at all.