Chapter Eighty-Eight
Abigail Peabody was an unhappy woman, but it wasn't always like
that. There was a time when she was young and hopeful, saw the world
through rosy-colored glasses, and was excited and enthusiastic about
leaving her mark on the world. But that was a long time ago.
As a child, an artist's soul burned within her. Painting was her
passion, and she demonstrated a particular flair for portraits.
Abigail didn't just "paint" her subjects; it seemed as if her
frighteningly receptive eye exposed the essence of the people and her
brush willingly captured that essence. Abigail especially adored
creating portraits of children. Looking at the young Peabody's
portraits, a novice or an appreciative connoisseur felt the emotions
percolating underneath the surface of the studied subject. The
canvas didn't lie.
Paris had enchanted Abigail and she had hoped to study art in the
romantic City of Lights. Her brain courted the notion of walking
along the Seine or sipping coffee in one of those outdoor cafes as
she soaked in the sights and sounds. But her father had other
ideas. Rupert Peabody had viewed his daughter's talent as a
childhood flight of fancy that he expected her to outgrow. He wanted
financial stability for her and the life of an artist wasn't
something that he equated with stability. So, when she was fifteen,
Rupert very bluntly told his daughter that it was time to forget that
artist "nonsense" and think about a real profession.
Abigail was crushed; yet, she never challenged her father's vision of
the kind of life that she should pursue. Her artistic talent was
buried deep within inside her, a ghost forced to sleep. Wrestling
between a career as a teacher or a social worker, Abigail eventually
decided on social work. The gifted woman received an undergraduate
degree in Social Work and later, a Master's Degree in Child
Developmental Psychology. Upon graduation, she immediately secured a
position with the Department of Social Services. Abigail saw her
new role as a champion of the downtrodden, the most vulnerable
members of society: children. Unfortunately, she quickly realized
that unspeakable acts of emotional and physical abuse were committed
upon children. The flame of childhood innocence was extinguished by
these acts of violation. The first time Abigail had to remove a
child from a home because the child's addict mother was allowing her
alcoholic boyfriend to sexually abuse the seven-year-old girl,
Abigail became physically ill. However, during court arguments on
the emergency removal petition, the judge ruled in favor of the
mother. The little girl was returned to her mother's custody four
days later. Abigail had never forgotten the sad look in the child's
eyes as she walked from the courtroom with her mother and the
mother's boyfriend. The case file was closed; Abigail never learned
what happened to that child. But the lost expression on the little
girl's face haunted her dreams for years.
There were numerous victories for the social worker over the many
years that she toiled as a public servant. Yet, it was the failures
that she had never forgotten.
The now middle-aged woman sat at the desk in her office staring at
the folder on Alexander Miller. That little boy was in trouble; she
knew that. In Mrs. Peabody's mind, Alexander's life mirrored the
life of that seven-year-old girl from so long ago. Gary Hobson, his
mother's live in boyfriend, was physically abusing Alexander. But
no one would listen to her. And now she had been severely
reprimanded by her supervisor for her handling of the Miller case.
Little did Abigail Peabody know, but the man who she had considered a
monster was about to become her guardian angel.
Abigail Peabody was an unhappy woman, but it wasn't always like
that. There was a time when she was young and hopeful, saw the world
through rosy-colored glasses, and was excited and enthusiastic about
leaving her mark on the world. But that was a long time ago.
As a child, an artist's soul burned within her. Painting was her
passion, and she demonstrated a particular flair for portraits.
Abigail didn't just "paint" her subjects; it seemed as if her
frighteningly receptive eye exposed the essence of the people and her
brush willingly captured that essence. Abigail especially adored
creating portraits of children. Looking at the young Peabody's
portraits, a novice or an appreciative connoisseur felt the emotions
percolating underneath the surface of the studied subject. The
canvas didn't lie.
Paris had enchanted Abigail and she had hoped to study art in the
romantic City of Lights. Her brain courted the notion of walking
along the Seine or sipping coffee in one of those outdoor cafes as
she soaked in the sights and sounds. But her father had other
ideas. Rupert Peabody had viewed his daughter's talent as a
childhood flight of fancy that he expected her to outgrow. He wanted
financial stability for her and the life of an artist wasn't
something that he equated with stability. So, when she was fifteen,
Rupert very bluntly told his daughter that it was time to forget that
artist "nonsense" and think about a real profession.
Abigail was crushed; yet, she never challenged her father's vision of
the kind of life that she should pursue. Her artistic talent was
buried deep within inside her, a ghost forced to sleep. Wrestling
between a career as a teacher or a social worker, Abigail eventually
decided on social work. The gifted woman received an undergraduate
degree in Social Work and later, a Master's Degree in Child
Developmental Psychology. Upon graduation, she immediately secured a
position with the Department of Social Services. Abigail saw her
new role as a champion of the downtrodden, the most vulnerable
members of society: children. Unfortunately, she quickly realized
that unspeakable acts of emotional and physical abuse were committed
upon children. The flame of childhood innocence was extinguished by
these acts of violation. The first time Abigail had to remove a
child from a home because the child's addict mother was allowing her
alcoholic boyfriend to sexually abuse the seven-year-old girl,
Abigail became physically ill. However, during court arguments on
the emergency removal petition, the judge ruled in favor of the
mother. The little girl was returned to her mother's custody four
days later. Abigail had never forgotten the sad look in the child's
eyes as she walked from the courtroom with her mother and the
mother's boyfriend. The case file was closed; Abigail never learned
what happened to that child. But the lost expression on the little
girl's face haunted her dreams for years.
There were numerous victories for the social worker over the many
years that she toiled as a public servant. Yet, it was the failures
that she had never forgotten.
The now middle-aged woman sat at the desk in her office staring at
the folder on Alexander Miller. That little boy was in trouble; she
knew that. In Mrs. Peabody's mind, Alexander's life mirrored the
life of that seven-year-old girl from so long ago. Gary Hobson, his
mother's live in boyfriend, was physically abusing Alexander. But
no one would listen to her. And now she had been severely
reprimanded by her supervisor for her handling of the Miller case.
Little did Abigail Peabody know, but the man who she had considered a
monster was about to become her guardian angel.