Angelic

Chapter Two: Meeting The Parent

Ron Walsh was a nostalgic man. The walls of his study was covered from wall to floor with memoirs to his youthful exploits and pictures of his old navy buddies, many of whom had now passed away. Books and old newspapers that he had pulled out of his library were stacked along the edges of his room, never finding their way back into the musty room. The wheel of his first bought ship hung behind his dark, oaken desk. The entire room was his pride and joy.

Clara was seated in front of the desk, staring down at her own fiddling hands. Ron, as he had instructed her to call him, was quite an old and wrinkled man. His hair had long since receded from its original hairline leaving a white rim around his papery skinned head. A long time ago he had decided to grow a beard, now it hung to his belt. Kind eyes peaked out from behind round rimmed glasses.

Ron glanced over the book he was reading towards the nervous girl. Her head was bowed, brown hair falling in front of her eyes. She was obviously nervous.

"Clara," Ron spoke up once more, having been silent for more than twenty minutes. "You needn't be nervous."

Clara was silent for a few seconds before replying. "But sir - sorry - Ron, the orphanage said I would never be adopted. Forgive me for being a bit weary of your kindness and a bit sceptical about this whole arrangement."

Ron sighed, sympathy for the young girl forcing him to place aside his newspaper to reassure her. "Clara, if I did not want you I would never have adopted you. Be assured that I did in fact choose you over the many other candidates because you shone out like a star. A star who needed a little kindness."

"Why me?" Clara asked the question without thinking.

"You'll just have to wait and see." Ron winked before pushing himself out of his armchair. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your room."

Clara shot up out of her seat and scrambled for the suitcase that held nearly all of her belongings. The lone piece of luggage was immediately grabbed by none other Ron Walsh himself, still being the perfect gentleman that his Mother had once taught him to be. He grinned cheekily at her before strolling out the room and down the expansive hallways. Clara shouldered the backpack that she had used at school today.

"This is where we'll be eating. I'll have none of that Facelook and Twotter at my table." He warned as he directed Clara's gaze to a finely furnished dining room. She tried not to laugh at his silly mannerisms or his lack of knowledge about the social network.

He led her up a beautifully carved staircase in the foyer that led to a lengthy hallway dotted with rooms and archways on either side. The walls were made of dark wood, One doorway showed a funnily frilly seating area set up for tea parties, a second revealed a large room that appeared to be an old fashioned cinema and another led to the second story of a magnificent library. Even from the thin doorway she could tell that it was huge and packed full of knowledge and adventure.

Ron noticed Clara frozen near the entrance to the library. His face softened with kindness. "You can read anything at anytime, Clara. But for now, I really must show you to your room."

Clara beamed at the prospect of reading all those wonderful books. She took off after Ron as he had already moved a great distance down the hallway. They reached the end of the corridor in a few more steps where upon Ron unlocked a door painted white with purple flowers splattered upon it.

"And this," Ron gestured inside the doorway. "Is your room."

The girl stared into the - her - room. It was somewhat larger than the four person dorm she'd had at the orphanage and painted white with a bay window stacked full of lavender and light green coloured cushions. A light wooden desk and bookcase were pushed against the wall facing the window. A four poster bed of the same wood and colour faced the wall that held the door and it held more blankets than she had ever seen one bed hold in her entire life. The wall that the door was situated upon only held a single painting of what the countryside that she had passed on her way to the mansion and two archways that led into a closet and a marble bathroom.

"Wow," was all the Clara uttered as she stood in the centre of her new room.

Ron chuckled at her wonderment. "It's all yours kiddo. I'll leave you to unpack and wash-up. Oh, and don't stress about not having much clothing." He gently shook her light suitcase to emphasise his point, "We can go to the shops on the weekend."

Ron laughed at the amazement on Clara's face then slowly strolled out of her lavender scented room, depositing her suitcase next to the door.

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Clara flew around the room, opening drawers and riffling through the books that already stood on her new bookcase. In a slide-out compartment below her writing desk she found a laptop, obviously Ron Walsh was not completely against technology. A sketch pad, pencils and pens were found atop the desk. A book of fairytales and a series named 'Tales of the Dwarven Kingdom' stood alongside various school books in her bookshelf. She shivered, briefly hoping that Ron had not enrolled her in all of those subjects.

Other tiny things like a toothbrush and toothpaste in the bedside table and a single dress and pair of shoes in her walk-in closet were found. Clara could not have been happier with her room and how her new Father was treating her with only kindness.

She decided to unpack first, placing the minimal amount of clothing she owned in her new closet and positioning her photograph of herself and her old best friend against the lamp on her bedside table. Sighed in contentment. She finally had a room to herself. No snot filled teenagers coughing until the wee hours of the night, no sleep talking girls and certainly no more crying when Clara couldn't take the sleep depravation any longer.

Showering, was what Clara attended to next. Her plane ride up to England had been lengthy and not at all pleasant. She resolved to get all the grime and sweat from the plane off of herself.

The bathroom was grand, all marble utilities glistening in the afternoon sun cast through the window. A marble floored shower stood next to the grounded bathtub. White, fluffy towels were placed on a rung next to the sink, along with soap, shampoo and conditioner within the showering compartment. The bathroom was better than any other she had seen, especially the communal ones at the orphanage.

After her shower, of which she had spent more than twenty minutes within, Clara dressed herself in an outfit of jeans and a light, green blouse. They were slightly stained from over-use, but they her best clothes, aside from the set she'd previously worn to meet her new Father. The orphanage had instructed her to wear the white dress, something that was not overly comfortable to wear for hours on end.

"Clara! Dinner's ready," was shouted down the hallway, projecting perfectly to her room. It was Ron.

"Alright, I'll be there in a second!" Clara clipped her necklace around her neck. It was left in her basket when she was found outside the orphanage. Along with a not telling them her name and birthdate. Not even a personal message was found. Clara sighed as the bird depicted in the tiny pendant rested against her skin. She had always been connected to her necklace, it made her think that maybe her parents loved her.

Ron Walsh made a marvellous dinner of salad and Mac n Cheese. Apparently that was all he could make without his cook being on maternity leave. According to Ron, he had assured her that he could take care of himself.

Clara could not stop laughing the entire dinner as Ron continuously made jokes about himself, Clara and even the chandelier that hung in the foyer. He asked questions about her old home-life and she found out that she would not be attending school for a week due to allowing her to get settled in at the home.

"What is dress for?" Clara asked after Ron finished a tale from his Navy years.

"For church my dear!" Ron chuckled.

"Oh, I see," Clara smiled but didn't have the heart to tell him that she wasn't Christian. She decided that church wouldn't be so bad, just a lot of sitting around.

"Oh dear, we forgot to say grace," Ron grabbed his beard in his moment of realisation. "Ah well, we'll say it double next time."

Clara couldn't stop laughing as she consumed her dinner. She loved the jokes Ron pulled. Eating dinner took a very long time.

Mr Walsh was the best thing that ever happened to me.