In some old stories, boys-- the better sort, anyway--called their father Sir. Stories were what James Wesley mostly had to go on, when it came to fathers. It had always been just him and his mother, in their pleasant house full of books, until she'd gotten sick and eventually the house was gone and the books were gone and he knew, soon, that his mother would be gone. He'd hated it, watching her watching him, seeing how she worried what would happen to him when she was gone. But then the man in the suit had come to the hospital. The suit hadn't fit quite right, and the man was fidgetting with it. He'd spoken, very quietly, to Mama, then to the doctors, then to the hospital's men own men in suits. Finally, he'd spoken to Wesley--he'd called him James at first, but Wesley had explained that in some of his favorite books, boys called each other by their last names once they were old enough to be in school. Mr. Fisk had respected his preferences.
When Mama passed, she was smiling and grateful and talking about Wesley's bright future. She had a proper funeral. The next day, Wesley and his new father flew to Bangkok. The next trip was Iceland. Then there was business in the Phillipines. Eventually, he sent Wesley to boarding school in England, as he'd read about in so many stories. By then, of course, he already knew what sort of story he was in.
His father was the Count of Monte Cristo. He had all the hallmarks. He just needed Wesley to help him a bit with some of the ... flair.
Fill Speaking With Respect 1/?
Stories were what James Wesley mostly had to go on, when it came to fathers. It had always been just him and his mother, in their pleasant house full of books, until she'd gotten sick and eventually the house was gone and the books were gone and he knew, soon, that his mother would be gone. He'd hated it, watching her watching him, seeing how she worried what would happen to him when she was gone.
But then the man in the suit had come to the hospital. The suit hadn't fit quite right, and the man was fidgetting with it. He'd spoken, very quietly, to Mama, then to the doctors, then to the hospital's men own men in suits.
Finally, he'd spoken to Wesley--he'd called him James at first, but Wesley had explained that in some of his favorite books, boys called each other by their last names once they were old enough to be in school. Mr. Fisk had respected his preferences.
When Mama passed, she was smiling and grateful and talking about Wesley's bright future. She had a proper funeral.
The next day, Wesley and his new father flew to Bangkok. The next trip was Iceland. Then there was business in the Phillipines. Eventually, he sent Wesley to boarding school in England, as he'd read about in so many stories.
By then, of course, he already knew what sort of story he was in.
His father was the Count of Monte Cristo. He had all the hallmarks. He just needed Wesley to help him a bit with some of the ... flair.