Aunt Tabbie's Wings
Reader Comments and Reviews for Jack Dey's Books
"Mahina is a fantastic tale involving multiple storylines from both historical times and the present… beautiful and complex, like the threads of fine tapestry… a memorable and well told story, full of adventure and romance… Someone should turn this book into a motion picture. You should read the book." Kathy Olson
"Paradise Warrior is an amazing book. It makes you laugh, cry and reflect. It is a book that when you finish you wonder about life around you. God’s plan in our life... amazing gift…" Fernando M.
“…I cry & I laugh & I don’t want to put my book down… I loved reading “Mahina” on my iPad…. BUT…. I absolutely LOVE having it in BOOK FORM now…. to have & to hold…. forever mine!" Gwennie Simpson
[Paradise Warrior] “I've finished THAT BOOK and will now have to do something constructive!!!... if book number three is as riveting as the other two, I will need pulse-reducing medication. I can't believe the depth of all that he was able to bring in to that story!!! (I'm thinking that I will have to stick to “Little Women” and “Heidi” in future.)” Maureen
"Paradise Warrior... You certainly know how to keep the reader hanging for more! Great work! I’m going to read it again!" Corinne
“...Mahina... Finished!!!!!! Loved it!!!!!” Marie
"Jack Dey… writes a rollicking good yarn, that man..." Shelley
[The Legend of Ataneq Nanuq] “...gripped me right to the end… fabulous job.” Phil
[The Legend of Ataneq Nanuq] “...exciting… incredible. A NY times best selling author couldn’t do it better. It is real. It is engaging. It is captivating... just comes off the page… and it will keep you guessing until the end when he skillfully ties all the lo[o]se ends into a satisfying knot. Don’t miss this exciting adventure.” Kathy
"...amazing, delightful, absolutely intriguing, WONDERFUL book... PARADISE WARRIOR!!! I can't put it down..." Gwennie Simpson
"...Aunt Tabbie’s Wings... once you start, you won’t want to put it down." Elspeth
"...Aunt Tabbie's Wings… loved it so much... I could not put it down..." Trudy R.
[Mahina] “I was up reading half the night last night…” Kathy
*~*~*~*
AUNT TABBIE'S WINGS
by
JACK DEY
*~*~*~*
PUBLISHED BY:
COPYRIGHT 2014, 2016 C.D. & A.R. Day
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means–electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or otherwise–except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the owner of the copyright.
Original Cover Design: C.D. & A.R. Day
https://www.jackdey.com
This book is also available in print.
ISBN: 9780992404024 (paperback)
For information please contact:
URL: https://www.jackdey.com
Email: jackdeyauthor@gmail.com
*~*~*~*
Dedicated to: Papa
For Your Honour and Your Glory
*~*~*~*
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 20
Chapter 25
Chapter 30
Chapter 35
Chapter 40
Chapter 45
Chapter 50
Author's Note
About the Author
Connect with Jack
Discover Other Books by Jack Dey
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*~*~*~*
Note from Jack
Aunt Tabbie's Wings is a heartwarming story depicting the incredible healing and life changing power of Father’s agape love. You can be the one who Father uses as a channel of that love, but beware, it comes at a price.
I hope you will laugh and cry along with the antics of the characters and just maybe, you can see yourself as a Tabbie, too.
This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, incidences, places or events, past or present, unless otherwise stated, is purely coincidental. Poetic licence has been taken in this fiction.
I hope you will enjoy reading it, as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
Jack Dey
*~*~*~*
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank the following for their tireless support in bringing Aunt Tabbie's Wings from a thought to a finished work.
Papa God, for allowing me to be a pencil in His hand.
My wife, the Editor, for turning my full stops into commas, encouraging me to keep going and using words like 'disturbing' to keep me on track. Constantly filling my cup with tea and love.
My Assistant Editor, the very charismatic Phil Hollett, for never letting me get away with anything.
The ever vigilant prayer team.
Finally, you, the reader. We pray for you as you take Papa’s hand and sojourn through this story. May you never forget the journey you are about to take and judge everything against what Papa tells you.
Jack
*~*~*~*
AUNT TABBIE'S WINGS
Never forget the power of love and the sacrifice of forgiveness. A beautiful story of love, adventure, struggle and redemption.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 1
The old Bible, dog eared and fraying, lay closed on the old woman's lap. She painfully flipped the cover open and stared down at the inscription.
To my beloved Father, Sergeant Major Pell (Bluey) Burns. All my love, Tabbie.
Running her finger over the dedication, a tear slipped from her eye and plopped onto the back of her gnarled skinny hand lying across the open Bible. The chrome wheelchair was parked hard against a large window overlooking the garden and her legs were covered by a homemade, knitted woollen blanket. As she sat peering out into the warm afternoon sunshine, her praying lips began to slowly move, but making no sound.
Tabbie was sixty, but she looked more like ninety. Rheumatoid arthritis had invaded her body at an early age and now, painfully swollen joints made it impossible to do much but sit and stare. The nurses did all they could to make their favourite charge comfortable and ease the pain, even though she didn't complain. Tabbie would always enquire into the happenings of the lives of the nurses, her deep blue eyes full of compassion and wisdom. It wasn't unusual to see a nurse sitting next to Tabbie, sobbing violently as she emptied her heart to the old woman, basking in the love and hugs of which she seemed to have in volumes.
Everyone lovingly called her Aunt Tabbie.
There was something about Tabbie that drew people to her. A warm smile, a charismatic personality and a deep love for troubled humanity. She had a word of encouragement for everyone, from the doctor to the ones who emptied the rubbish bins, and very observant too, leaving the nurses to wonder whether she could actually see inside a person.
Tabbie's skinny frame worried the doctors. She hadn't been well for many m
onths now and the arthritis was engulfing her ever faster. Asked if she was feeling well, she would often reply with a twinkle in her eye, "My times are in the hands of my Father in Heaven."
Tabbie had a busy visitor schedule. Every day, well wishers would engulf her, hoping to bring comfort to the old lady, but in most cases, the visitor would leave receiving the comfort. However, Tabbie’s protective nurses became annoyed when people visited just to take from the giving woman, using her as sounding board for their own problems; and by the end of the day the caring staff could see Tabbie's strength starting to fade, becoming distressed physically, until they forbade any more visitors. Even after the exhausted woman was wheeled back to her room, her phone would ring incessantly into the evening, still giving and giving, until Matron put her foot down and the phone was diverted.
Although the night hours were racked with awful pain, that was the time she spent in the presence of Father, learning from Him and sitting at His feet in prayer. But the door to her room was never locked and the nurses kept careful vigilance during the night, monitoring her pain level. Even though Tabbie never complained about the discomfort, the nurses knew when the pain level was becoming intolerable with her sharp blue eyes clouding over into an icy grey, before relief was administered and Tabbie drifted off into another world.
*~*~*~*
Matron Jillian Miles took her job seriously. She was a large, stern woman with a round face and ran the nursing home like a tight navy ship. Crisply in command, nothing escaped her notice and if the nurses did anything wrong, they owned up to it immediately. Some had tried to conceal their guilt when things got out of hand but when Matron discovered the covert plot to deceive, she let the culprit have it with both barrels once they were discovered.
Needless to say, the guilty party didn't try it on again.
Not only was she known for being decisive and tough, she also had a huge compassionate heart which wouldn’t allow her to hold a grudge; and as experience dictated, it was best to remain on the leeward side of the staunch disciplinarian and confess all shortcomings to survive on the turbulent sea of nursing home protocol.
Matron glanced up at the clock on the wall and sighed. 9:30 am. Time to do her rounds, but she hadn’t even started the mountain of paperwork left for her from the nightshift staff and the doctor was already making a steady path towards her desk to join her on her morning duties. Just as she had shifted gears and mentally prepared for the doctor’s arrival, the phone on her desk began to ring, calling her attention away from her mounting workload. A frustrated huff escaped her lips, watching the doctor rapidly approaching and contemplated leaving it to ring, but gave in to her natural curiosity and answered it.
"Matron Jillian Miles."
A timid voice she didn’t recognise answered her query. "Hello, Matron, this is Senior Constable Ian Palmer from the Juvenile Justice Department."
"Yes, Constable Palmer, what can I do for you?"
"I know it’s an unusual request but you’ve helped us out with our Young Offender Programme in the past. I was wondering if we could bring a young fourteen-year-old, at-risk female to see Aunt Tabbie. The last time, she facilitated a turnaround in a very tough case and this time, it's even worse."
Matron’s ire went from cooling breeze to boiling point in just a few shaky seconds. "Constable Palmer, Tabbie is not well. I understand that she has an immense love for people, but she is in a nursing home for a reason!"
Palmer sensed the passion in Matron’s reply and could almost feel the receiver earpiece temperature rising as the stern woman gave him a taste of her stinging tongue. "I... I understand your concerns, Matron, but the Young Offender Programme is falling helplessly behind and is failing this child. If I don't do something, this child will self-destruct!"
Matron’s sternness imploded in on itself, listening to the desperation and concern in the young policeman's voice, sensing she had just become a victim to her own good heartedness. "I will talk to Tabbie and if she agrees, then you may bring her here. On one proviso…"
"Name it, Matron!" the young constable was about to agree to anything.
"The moment she starts to show signs of distress, you and the child are to leave. Immediately. Agreed?"
"Agreed," Palmer quickly responded.
*~*~*~*
Two nurses helped Tabbie shower and dress and after she was presentable, Matron entered her room but taking one look at Tabbie’s pained demeanour, Matron was already reconsidering her offer to the policeman.
"A young policeman has made a request, Tabbie. He has an at-risk juvenile female whom he is hoping to bring for you to talk to. I have tentatively agreed to his request, providing firstly you agree and secondly, that you are well enough to take on such a situation.”
The two nurses gawked up at Matron in surprise, their gazes saying, you are not serious.
Tabbie's blue eyes were brilliant in the morning light. She nodded and smiled affably, as if this meeting had already been arranged and she was expecting the child at any time. "Of course she can come!"
Tabbie gasped as the nurses lowered her into her wheelchair and then placed her woollen blanket over her legs.
*~*~*~*
Ian Palmer strolled up to the glass front door of the nursing home accompanied by a distracted young girl. The unimpressed juvenile female protested loudly at coming to an old people's home, so Palmer gave her a choice: the old people's home, or back to Greyton’s tough and regimented institution for hardened juvenile offenders and take her turn swabbing out the filthy ablution block.
Settling on Palmer’s first option, the young girl felt uncomfortable out of her peer situation, with piercings all over her face and boot-polish-black, short cropped hair. She wore a traditional institution uniform, Greyton’s dark green long trousers and shirt, with her young face already showing signs of setting into a hardness beyond her years. Intentionally, her severe dark appearance purposely deflected any interest in her disguised femininity, making it extremely obvious she didn't trust anyone, especially men.
Palmer pulled the door open for the girl and she slipped in without offering a word. They walked down a polished corridor, his shoes making a clip-clop sound, echoing in the quiet as he walked. The girl looked around in horror at the sights she was taking in. Old people were being wheeled around, or slumped and parked in wheelchairs next to windows, just staring.
"Why did you bring me here?!" she squirmed, peering over her shoulder for a quick exit and back onto the streets.
"There is someone I want you to meet."
"Well, I don't want to meet them!" The girl was becoming agitated.
"Calm down, Casey. There’s nothing to fear here."
"I'm not afraid!" she suddenly spat.
"Okay, Wonder Woman, prove it."
The obvious challenge calmed her down. No one spooked out Casey Lowe.
They rounded a corner and pushed open a glass door, entering a large lounge room. An old woman in a wheelchair sat at the end of a lounge and smiled as they entered. Casey was immediately taken by the depth of the old woman's blue eyes and she seemed to be surrounded by a peacefulness and warmth she had never felt before. Her smile drew Casey and she fought against it, closing her mind, not wanting to trust anyone.
"Casey, this is Aunt Tabbie."
*~*~*~*
Chapter 2
Tabbie’s acute mind surveyed the forlorn figure of the troubled young girl perched uneasily on the edge of the lounge. She silently winced at the pieces of metal forced through the young attractive facial features, pondering the reasons a pretty young woman would deliberately try to mutilate her beauty, but quietly, Tabbie understood the signs of deep self hatred. The girl’s disturbing eyes reflected the hollow, destructive paths of violent storms not too distant past and the emptiness of a short life full of pain, etched in distrust and her harrowing story written vividly across her face.
"Casey, is it dear?" Tabbie asked quietly.
"Yeah!" the girl retorted sharply
as if the old woman had no right to ask.
"Would you like to tell me something of yourself?" Tabbie gently prodded, bracing herself and all too certain of the girl’s reply.
"Fat chance, lady!" Casey spat, glancing rebelliously around at Palmer.
"Casey…!" Constable Palmer chided.
Tabbie eyed the constable for a moment and then filled the uneasy silence. "Mr Palmer, would you excuse us for a moment, please?" Tabbie pointed to the door.
Reluctantly, Constable Palmer rose from his seat next to Casey, gave Tabbie a glance of concern and started for the entrance. "I'll be just outside!" he threatened.
Tabbie followed him to the door, pushing her wheelchair with her skinny arms. Once he was safely outside the room, Tabbie thrust it shut and locked it behind him. A bewildered expression on Palmer's face, as he rattled the door from the outside, made Casey laugh. But she quickly brought herself back in check, not wanting to find any reason to connect with this old lady.
Tabbie then wheeled herself directly opposite Casey. "Now, if you can't tell me about you, would you allow me to tell you about me?"
Tabbie’s smile disarmed the rebellion in Casey’s eyes, but if the old lady was attempting to find out anything about her, she would have to come up with something more eloquent than locking Palmer outside. Considering the old woman’s offer, Casey eyed Tabbie for a long moment, finally coming to a decision. "Yeah, if you want. But I ain’t saying nothin’!" then enforced her stance by folding her arms across her chest in deliberate defiance.
As Tabbie searched the ceiling for a place to begin her tale, Casey couldn’t help but notice Tabbie's rich, deep blue eyes and felt increasingly drawn by their hypnotising allure, making it more difficult to maintain her bitter facade.