I blame this work on all the people who requested a sequal to 'Measure of a Man.' There was never supposed to be one. So if its not up to par or slow in getting out I apologize. I have ideas so there is a direction but I am more than happy to hear reccommendations from my readers. Please send me feedback. Otherwise I won't post! Ha!
Chase stood, leaning on the door frame looking into his bedroom. Today had been tough. Tougher than he thought. But so was the little girl in his bed.
He couldn't get over how small she was, especially in his queen sized bed. She was dwarfed by the blanket and the pillows.
And now that small thing in his bed depended on him. She was his responsibility. Not officially. Not yet. In a few days, yes. But that didn't mean that his mind couldn't run off on its own little tangent with worry.
Could he actually do this? Sure Jocelyn seemed easy to care for. Feed her, wash her, cloth her, but there was more to that. Monetarily he could take care of her. His father left everything to him when he died and so did his mother. He was living off his salary for the most part in America. His mother's money was invested and so was most of his father's. His father's house in Australia was owned and though a lawyer friend back there, he was renting out the house, which also provided him with income. His mother's house, which he felt like his, remained empty except for the house keeper and her family, who took care of the house and grounds.
It was emotionally that he was worried about. In a way that was one thing that he had in common with Jocelyn, as children they didn't have the proper role models. But that was something that was now in his court to change. But could he do it?
His mother had tried. But she never expected or wanted a child. It interfered too much with the free spirit that she was. He had read articles that his mother's works had not been the same since she gave birth. He could easily remember all the times that his mother yelled at him, in a drunken rage, that it was all his fault that she was drinking and that she couldn't get work.
Carlie Chase had been beautiful. An actress/model in Australia she was used to traveling to where ever she was needed to work without a second thought. Once she was pregnant she was still radiant and still worked. She had given birth to her twins in France while on a shoot. Robert's brother never made it back to Australia.
Robert never knew if that his mother started to drink to get over the loss of his brother or if she didn't like the fact that he survived. It wasn't like she cared for him. Nannies and tutors were his mentors.
His father was no better. Used to his wife not being around to need him, Rowan found love and compassion in other women. When his sons were born he was busy at the hospital with a patient. He didn't even know that he had two sons till he read an article about his wife a week after she came back to Australia.
Discouraged that his wife felt the need to hide the complete truth from him, Rowan buried himself in his work and other women. Unfortunately by turning from his wife he also turned from his son. Rowan cut himself off from his wife and child, rationalizing that being his wife was such a failure, so to her son would be.
That left Robert, with a father who wanted nothing to do with him, and a mother who couldn't stand to look at him. The nannies and tutors just looked at him as a job and didn't put much care into him. If the parents didn't care, why should the hired help.
Robert quickly learned that it was easier to stay quiet and do what everyone expected and to not disappoint. If you disappoint then you got yelled at. Better to be the best and be ignored than be noticed and be terrorized.
Being taught by tutors meant no real socializing. Robert quickly found friends in books and stories. In books he could have adventures. In his own writing he could rant and yell and express himself without fear of retribution from anyone.
By the time he was ready for university, two years before most his age, he had become a loaner. Being younger than everyone meant that he could hide in the library to study and no one would bother him.
When his mother got sick and died he dealt with it on his own too. There was no one to help him with doctors or hospitals or funeral arrangements. His father had left them officially a few years earlier. There were housekeepers and such but they had come to despise the Chase family and all felt the sooner they were out of there the better.
Robert learned all about death and how to organize for it through books and his priest. Father Matthews was the closest thing he could think of as a father figure. When Robert needed to talk he was there to listen and offer advice. It was during his time at university that the thought of becoming a priest sounded good to him.
With his mother dead, father estranged, no friends, having G-d love him was very appealing. Especially to a boy who never really knew what love was. He even tried it for a while, taking time away from university to attend seminary school.
But the thought of having to forgive anyone who asked for forgiveness, didn't sit right in his heart. Robert knew that he couldn't forgive his father for the way he left him and his mother. And he knew that he couldn't forgive his mother for the way she treated him and herself. And he knew that he couldn't quiet forgive himself for the thoughts that he sometimes had about his parents.
He left seminary with the thought that he liked the idea of helping people but needed a way to do so where he wouldn't have to forgive people for their sins. While being a doctor was something that his father had mentioned to him, he knew that he didn't want to be one like his father.
Rheumatology was something specific that only helped a few people. Robert needed something that was broader, something not so specific. Something that allowed him to be a super hero one minute and an ordinary man the next. Some where that he could swoop in save the day, and then swoop back out, with no one the wiser. And if it was something that would piss his father off the happier it would make him.
Dealing with his mother he always admired the doctors in the intensive care units. Something happens, they came in did their jobs and left. They never looked for praise and acclaim like his father did. They came in saved a life and then moved on to the next emergency. They were the kind of doctor that everyone needed. And being needed was something that Robert needed.
Looking back down at Jocelyn, he knew that she needed him. But would that be enough. He watched as she turned onto her side facing the door with her thumb in her mouth. No he couldn't do this. He couldn't be responsible for something this small. He was good at swooping in, saving the day, and leaving again. He didn't have staying power. He'd call the social worker tomorrow and let her know that it was a bad idea. He would help find a good foster family for Jocelyn and help support her, but he couldn't be fully responsible.
But then, in sleep, her thumb fell out of her mouth and she smiled. At the sight of the smile on Jocelyn's face, Robert couldn't help but smile too. Some how that little girl had found a way into his heart. While he liked to save the day, he also wanted to make the little girl smile. He was sure that she didn't smile much in her four years.