Abigail's Reawakening

By J. A Melville

PLEASE NOTE: This is the conclusion to Abigail's Angel. It must be read before you read Abigail's Reawakening.

 

Abigail

It was two years since the event,

When an angel had come to save me.

Not all angels have wings

Some were school teachers. . .

Like Drew.

In those two years we'd stayed in contact via email.

Jackson Primary needed a new school counsellor,

And that was me.

I wanted to surprise him because Drew didn't know.

What I hadn't counted on, was my reaction to him.

 

Drew

Jackson Primary was getting a new school counsellor,

I couldn't believe it. It was her. Abigail.

Two years on and the haunted look was gone,

She looked healthy. Happy. So beautiful.

I wanted to be there to protect her,

To slay those dragons for her.

But she was so much stronger now,

The line between protecting her and smothering her, was a fine one.

I had to be careful I didn't cross it,

Abigail deserved to fly free and live her life.

I just wanted to be there to catch her if she fell.

 

 

As I am an Australian author, I have used mostly Australian spelling and grammar.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. A Melville
• Release date: Nov 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201415679

Book preview

Acknowledgements

Iwant to thank my kids for putting up with me being somewhat vague and distant at times.

My special thanks are to you Karen. Thank you for all that you do. Thank you for being the one who gets my books in their raw form and helps me turn them into the best that they can be.

Thank you for telling me when they’re good, but for not being afraid to tell me when they’re not.

Thank you for assisting me with everything from cover ideas to promotion, to just simply being my best friend and the sister I never had.  A sister with the matching wonky body. Bookends as I call us. You told me once that my books just keep getting better. That I kind of raise the bar on my own stories, but in reality, they wouldn’t be and that wouldn’t happen, if it weren’t for all the help you give me. Thank you. xxxx

About the Author

From my teenage years , all I wanted to do was become a writer one day. Even now as an adult woman with three children who are not so little anymore, I've always lived with my head in the clouds, a dreamer, often amusing myself with my own imagination.

I live in a sleepy country town in Tasmania, Australia with my three children and two kitties I raised that were born to a feral cat.

I love reading romance and writing it too. I’m a sucker for a damaged male who just needs a good woman to fix him. Lately my passion has been romantic comedies, but I’ll give just about any kind of romance a go.

J. A Melville.

© Copyright J. A Melville. September 2021.

Do the right thing, don’t download pirated books. Authors deserve to get paid for their hard work as much as anyone else.

No parts of this book can be copied unless permission is given by the author for quotes to be used for reviews etc.

This book is fiction. The characters are fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

This book is the work of the writer's imagination.

Cover design by Tracey from Soxsational Cover Art.

Prologue

Abigail

Two Years Later

Smiling at my mother, I slowly walked around the one-bedroom apartment I’d recently bought. Stopping to brush my fingertips over a polished surface or straighten a picture that looked slightly crooked. 

It’s perfect, isn’t it? My words not really a question as my focus moved around the space, taking in every detail.  Every picture. Every piece of furniture, selected by me. Chosen to suit my tastes and not forced upon me by someone else.

You don’t mind that you’ll be living in a place with people under you and beside you? She asked. You’re not used to living in an apartment. You’ve only lived in houses.

I shuddered, memories of the last house I’d lived in flooding my mind. No. God no. I don’t exactly have the best memories from living in a house. I like the idea of having neighbours close. I frowned, swallowing as the dark thoughts filtered in despite my best efforts to keep them at bay.

If anything, ever happens, then people are close. I smiled. I just hope some of them are nice. I would love to find a friend or two in the block. Robert never let me have friends. He wasn’t interested in getting to know our neighbours.

I saw the flash of anger in my mother’s eyes before she reached out to hug me. Your husband was a bastard. He didn’t want you meeting anyone. You must remember that to maintain complete control of you he had to isolate you. I’m glad he’s dead. He was never going to accept you leaving  him. Abusers like that can’t let go. He’d have kept you a prisoner forever if Drew hadn’t figured out what was going on.

I smiled at the mention of the man who had been my angel. I know. I will never be able to thank him enough for what he did for me.

So, you’re ready for this sweetheart? You’re ready to go it alone? Her eyes searched mine. Are you ready to see him again?

This time I laughed. I really am. I’m excited to begin a new life free of Robert. I’m excited about my job. I think working with kids will be perfect for me and given my past, I hope I can help any that may need it.

The ache of a familiar pain silenced me for a moment, but my mother must have known from my expression what I was thinking and again, she hugged me.

I’m so sorry sweetheart for what that animal took from you.

I forced myself to smile again. The fact I can’t have kids doesn’t mean I should avoid them at all costs. If I can help a child not to be a victim, that will be enough.

Not all men are bad.

I know, but right now, I just want to concentrate on my job. I worked hard to get my Diploma in Counselling. I think being school counsellor will be good for me, and hopefully after my own past, I can help kids who are having a hard time of it at home.

So how do you feel about working at the school where Drew teaches?

I swallowed, my mind conjuring up an image of him as I’d last seen him. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Concern and caring reflected in them whenever he’d turned their brilliance on me. The brush of his lips as he’d kissed me goodbye. The smell of his aftershave. The feel of his broad chest as he’d held me for those few moments. The way my heart had raced, and not with fear.

I was both scared to see Drew again and excited to see him. He didn’t know I was coming to work at his school. I’d told him in one of my emails that I was working as a student counsellor, but I’d deliberately held off telling him where. I didn’t want him to find out in advance if I could avoid it. I wanted to just do my job. No fuss being made about me stepping out as a free, single, and independent woman.

Drew had changed my life. He was my real-life knight in shining armour. I could never thank him enough for what he did for me. But I wanted to move on from that. I didn’t want to be looked upon as a victim. I wanted to be looked upon as a survivor.

I’m excited and nervous. I admitted. He did so much for me. I will always be grateful, but that time of my life is over. I’m sure Drew’s got his own life to worry about without me getting in the way. He’s probably met someone. We don’t get into too much personal stuff when we email one another. I haven’t spoken to him in quite a while anyway. He might surprise me with a wife now, for all I know. When I see him, it will be at the school. Our first encounter will be on a professional level, not personal.

My mother’s lips curled down. The man is more than that sweetheart. You two went through something life changing together. He helped remove you from an intolerable situation. You two will see one another as professionals of course, but allow yourself to feel, when you see him. And you will feel. It’s all going to come back. Every awful memory. Everything you went through to get to where you are now. Are you ready to deal with that?

I sighed. "I have to be.

Again, my mother’s arms circled me, giving me a hug. You’ll be fine. You’ve come so far after. I’m so proud of you.

Thanks mum. I hugged her back, my eyes still taking in the details of my apartment over her shoulder.

Drew

Ready for another year of it. The slightly gruff sounding voice of Tom Spencer drew my focus from the stream of coffee I’d been watching slowly fill my cup.

The staffroom coffee was like sump oil. A near black sludge, but I’d drink anything that could pass for coffee. Even if it was nearly thick enough to drink with a knife and fork. I couldn’t function until my second cup  at least. Caffeine was my drug of choice and right now, on the first day of the new year at school, I needed that drug to wake me up.

Once the mug was filled, I turned to face the older man. He was one of the Year 6 teachers at Jackson Primary and he’d been here since the dawn of time, or so the other teachers had said.

I knew he’d worked here for 23 years and had a bit of a reputation for terrorising his students. With harsh lines from too much sun and a weathered complexion that spoke of a man who had seen a lot and done a lot, I could see why the kids found him intimidating. Not just the students either. Some of the teachers were a bit scared of him too.

It wasn’t just his gruff sounding voice or complexion. Not even his steel grey eyes that felt like they were piercing a person’s very soul. Or even those thick, bushy grey brows of his, with that one errant strand that stuck up, like a rebel amongst the rest. It was all those things combined that made him one freaky dude. But no one could dispute his teaching skills. The man hadn’t been doing it for 23 years without earning himself the respect of teachers, principal, and students alike. 

Ask me that after this. I lifted my mug and took a sip of the powerful brew. Plus, who doesn’t love first days of the new year? Another class of students to teach and hope there aren’t any to drive us too crazy.

Every year’s a gamble. Tom rumbled. Sometimes they’re good. Other times there’s one or two that need some guidance. These days it gets harder. We’ve got kids coming here from broken homes and low- or no-income families. Some are more troubled. It wasn’t like that so much when I first started teaching.

That’s why they’ve hired a new student counsellor this year. Cathy joined us, her arm brushing against me as she reached for the jar that contained a selection of biscuits.

She worked in the school office, and I’d spent most of the time I’d worked at Jackson Primary trying to keep her politely but firmly at arm’s  length. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, she was an attractive woman, but I wasn’t interested. Too hands on for my liking.

What? A new student counsellor? I was beginning to think they were going to leave us all to double as potential counsellors after Helen retired.

No. Mr Anderson has been trying to get the extra funding to replace her and it seems he succeeded. She starts next week. Mr Anderson thought it would be better to have the kids all settled in their new classes for the year before she begins. I guess he thinks that will be long enough to work out if anyone’s going to need to see her.

It’s going to be hard for anyone following in Helen’s footsteps. She was one hell of a great counsellor. Great instinct and insight. I said, my thoughts turning to what the previous counsellor had done to help me save Abigail.

This one’s young. Fresh out of college, or so I heard. Cathy added.

I rolled my eyes. So, her only experience is what she’s picked up from text books?

Everyone has to start somewhere. Tom’s gruff voice chided me. You were wet behind the ears once too you know.

Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just remember what a help  Helen was to me with a personal situation going on with one of my neighbours. Without her advice, things might have ended very differently to how they did.

I remember that. You took a fair beating to save some woman from her husband, wasn’t it?

I nodded. Yeah.

Is she alright now? Cathy asked.

This time I smiled. Yes. She’s living with her parents and going to college. She really wants to make a life for herself. She lost 7 years  of it because of her husband.

Cathy’s hand curled around my arm and the look she shot me was filled with admiration and something that made me want to pull away from her. You’re a good man Drew. It’s wonderful what you did for her. You saved her. You’re a hero.

Shifting subtly, I pulled my arm from her grasp. I swear this woman couldn’t take the hint that I wasn’t interested in anything other than a professional relationship with her.

I’m not a hero. It was a combination of luck and Helen’s help, so I knew what to do. If the new counsellor is half as good as her, she’ll be great.

Well, the kids need someone they can go to. Guess we’ll find out next week what she’s like. Cathy said, before shooting me a final smile and walking out of the staffroom.

Better get to class. Tom nodded at me.

Good luck. I raised my coffee mug to him and watched him walk out, leaving me alone.

When the familiar peel of the school bell sounded through the building, I gulped down the last mouthful of coffee and hurried out of the staffroom, making my way to the classroom I’d taught in for the last few years.

Chapter One

Abigail

Staring up at the building before me, I took a deep breath, holding it a moment, before letting it out in a rush. As I stepped through the doors, I hastily brushed my hands down my skirt to wipe away any lingering moisture.

To say I was nervous, was an understatement. I was terrified. It was one thing to study and get my Diploma, and another to land a job and put what I’d learned into practice.

I couldn’t mess this up. I was here to help the kids. Jackson Primary was in a poor area, so a lot of broken homes and the number of kids starting here with issues, was increasing. A sad reality of the times and economic situation of this country I suppose.

Walking down the vast school corridors, lined with lockers, with the endless stretch of lino tiles before me, was like being transported back in time. The same old classroom doors with their glass panel with the wire mesh through it, greeted me as I walked. The muffled sound of kids’ voices and teachers talking as I passed door after door.

It seemed no matter the age or time, schools were all the same. The sight, smell, and layout achingly familiar. Reminding me of a time when I’d been happy and carefree. A time before I had married a monster. A time before what had become the fight of my life to survive.

Eventually, I found the school office and was greeted by the woman I’d seen when I came to be interviewed by the Principal Mark Anderson. Her name was Cathy. That much I remembered, although I’d only seen her in passing. She was one of the women who worked in the office, and she was pretty with her light blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

I smoothed a hand down my plain black skirt, suddenly feeling quite drab in comparison. My blouse was a pale grey with a black jacket that matched my skirt. Whereas Cathy wore a canary yellow dress that swirled around her legs when she led me down the corridor of the administration block. Past other offices until we got to the principal’s office.

Her pale blonde hair in a high pony tail swung in sync with the skirt of her dress as she walked, and I reached up, running a hand over my dark brown hair that I had pinned back in what I hoped was an elegant twist at my nape.

You can go in. She smiled, and I smiled back, hoping I didn’t look as terrified as I felt.

Knocking once, quietly, I grasped the door knob and twisted it. Opening the door, I crossed the threshold. Taking my first step into not just my boss’s office, but the first step into what I hoped would be a long and rewarding career at Jackson Primary.

Mark Anderson was well suited as a principal. Somewhere in his mid-forties at a guess, he had sandy coloured blond hair and blue/grey eyes. He was tall and imposing looking. Perfect for handing out discipline, but at the same time, there was a kindness about him which helped settle my nerves almost immediately.

Ms Thorpe, how are you? Mr Anderson’s tone was warm and friendly.

Just a tiny bit terrified. I admitted. And please, call me Abby.

I thought we could start by showing you your office for when you need to speak to students, and once you’ve had  a moment to settle in, I’m having a meeting in the staffroom to introduce you to the teachers and other staff here at Jackson Primary. Don’t worry, I won’t have an assembly to let the students see you. He smiled. They’ll have time to meet you once you start seeing them.

Thank you. I shot him a grateful smile, trying to control my nerves at the thought of being in the staffroom and meeting everyone at once. Robert had been dead for a bit over two years, and although I was far more confident than I’d been during my marriage to him, certain situations still scared me. Those moments where all attention was on me.

I struggled with that, but I knew I had to put myself out there more, and in time it would get easier. Right now though, the counsellor needed to counsel herself. Talk myself off the ledge, and squash that fight or flight response that wanted to kick in when confronted by situations that brought out all those old fears in me.

I followed Mark Anderson to my office. It wasn’t that big, but then I didn’t need a lot of space. It was bright and airy, with a large window that looked out onto a small courtyard.

I had a desk, computer, book shelf, filing cabinets and even a two-seater couch. The desk already had a pile of folders on it and I eyed them off curiously.

As you can see, we already have some work for you. Mr Anderson waved a hand at the files as if he’d somehow heard my silent question. I wanted to give you a chance to read over the files from the students who have needed the most...help. He explained. Helen had many she worked with on a regular basis. Some of the kids deal with a lot in their home environment, and that carries over into their behaviour here. We can organise for you to meet these ones progressively. Give you a chance to see what you’re dealing with and let these kids get used to you. Let them learn to trust you. See you as someone they can come to in confidence if necessary and feel comfortable doing so.

DREW

So, Anderson’s got us all here to meet the new counsellor?" Jeff Peterson, the physical education teacher bit into the Tim Tam biscuit in his hand as he asked the question.

She’s a young one apparently. I’ve heard the students talking about her. The lads are acting like she’s the greatest thing since sliced bread. Brian May, the other Year 6 teacher grinned.

That must mean she’s a pretty young thing. Jeff responded before swallowing the last of his biscuit. I don’t think they’d be talking about her otherwise. I don’t remember any of them talking about Helen like that.

Guess we’ll...I trailed off when our school’s principal walked into the staffroom ahead of a woman, I couldn’t quite see past him. All I got was a glimpse of dark hair and I stepped forward, waiting for Mark Anderson to step aside.

Everyone, I want to introduce you to our new school counsellor. Her name is Abby Thorpe. Mark announced as he turned, waving the woman forward.

My eyes shot to her, and when I saw who it was, I swear for a moment, my heart stood still. I tried to take a breath, but it felt like my lungs were being squeezed, making it impossible to do so.  I swallowed, but even that was an effort.

Every nerve ending in my body waking up as my eyes took in the sight before me. My nostrils flaring as if somehow, I could smell her, and try to breathe her in. It was the one person I didn’t think I’d ever see in person again. A woman who looked vastly different to how she’d looked last time I’d seen her. It was Abigail.

I hadn’t seen her since that day she left with her mother. Still broken, but better. Better because her husband was gone. Dead. No longer able to hurt her. But she’d still had a long way to go. A long way before she’d be free of what that bastard had done to her.

This woman, standing before us now, was not the Abigail I remembered. That Abigail had been beautiful, but haunted. Beautiful, but damaged. Beautiful but fragile.

This Abigail wasn’t just beautiful. She was stunning. Still frightened, but not like she’d been back then. This looked like a case of simple nerves at having all eyes on her. She was . Strong. Brave. Seeing her here, was a surprise.

She’d never mentioned anything in her emails about coming to work here. She’d never mentioned anything about studying to become a counsellor. She’d surprised me. And right now, I was so fucking proud of her. Unable to take my eyes off every gorgeous inch of her.

When those stunning green eyes turned my way, and locked on me, I lost the ability to breathe. To think. To move. Spellbound. Transfixed. Paralysed by her beauty and those expressive eyes. Feeling them burning my skin as they moved over my face.

God, she was beautiful. I’d forgotten how much. Except this time, it was a beauty that told a story. A hint of her past still lingering at the back of those emerald eyes. There was a wisdom there now. The haunted, gaunt look gone. Replaced by a new, budding confidence. A confidence that no asshole could beat out of her again.

Her lips, painted a subtle shade of pink, trembled before a tentative smile tipped them up. And when I saw that smile, the shock, surprise, call it what you will, that had held my body rigid, released it, and I took a step towards her. Followed by another. Then another. Until I stood before her.

Unable to help myself, my hands lifted, and I reached for her, but just before I could take her into my arms, I stopped, standing awkwardly for a moment, before lowering them again.

I couldn’t touch her. I couldn’t embrace her. I couldn’t take those kinds of liberties with her. This was Abigail. She was the survivor of horrific abuse at the hands of her husband. Sustained over years. He had damaged her, but he hadn’t broken her. Not forever at least.

I knew her more intimately than any other woman in my life right now, but that was only because I’d become involved in her tragic past and helped to remove her from the violent home she’d shared with that asshole.

Despite being there when her husband died and doing everything I could to help remove her from a domestic violence situation, we were still basically strangers. Our only communication being that of emails sent to one another. Emails that shared little more than small talk.

We were certainly not close enough for me to assume it was ok to put my hands on her. I wasn’t sure how she would react anyway. I might frighten her. I might cross a boundary I had no right to cross. I had no right to assume it was ok to do that. So, I held out a hand instead, ready to shake hers, and smiled at her, putting everything into that smile, so she would know, just how pleased I was to see her.

Lines appeared on her otherwise smooth brow before her focus shifted to my hand. Seconds passing. The sounds of voices around us fading. My tension rising with every passing moment when she made no effort to take my hand. To shake it.

Finally, troubled green eyes met mine. Hi Drew. She said, the words spoken so softly I nearly missed them. I’m sorry. I should have told you, but I... She trailed off, her throat working as she swallowed noisily. I didn’t want to say anything. I wanted to do this on my own. I wanted to get my diploma. Those expressive eyes bounced off me again. I didn’t want to say anything in case I...in case I failed.

You don’t owe me an explanation Abigail. I lifted a hand, waving it about hesitantly. I wanted to touch her. To hug her. To show my delight at seeing her looking so well. To see her stronger and now employed.

God, I wanted so desperately to hug her. To breathe her in and give her some of my strength, so she would know she wasn’t alone here. I was scared though. Scared to touch her. Scared of frightening her. Scared of crossing a boundary with her.

It’s good to see you. She said. But don’t call me Abigail. I left that name behind when I left that life behind. I go by the name of Abby now. Abby Thorpe. I’m using my maiden name again. I don’t...I don’t want any association with that time of my life. Again, a few lines appeared across her brow, before they were gone.

Ok. I whispered. God, you look great. I want to hug you, but I don’t... I trailed off, my eyes helplessly searching hers for a sign I wasn’t freaking her out.

Trembling slightly, the corners of her lips turned up and eventually a full-blown smile lit up her beautiful face. You can hug me Drew. I want you to hug me. You have no idea what you mean to me. If it wasn’t for you... This time it was her turn to fall silent, leaving that sentence unfinished.

My heart leapt so hard in my chest, I could feel it in my throat. I still couldn’t believe Abigail, I mean Abby, was standing before me. It was one of those surreal moments. A dream state that made me wonder if I would wake soon and discover it was nothing more than a dream.

I couldn’t stop staring at her. At her beauty and grace. The sweetness