This part of Ollie is told from Danny’s point of view. In the flashback he is five, but present tense he’s six. Part one can be found here.
When will mommy get better?
It’s been a long time since I saw mommy smile. Dad says it’s only been three weeks so we gotta give mommy time to get better. He says her heart is sad because Ollie went to heaven, but I don’t get why she can’t read to me before bed like she used to or tickle me to wake up in the morning. I miss mommy being mommy, and so does Jason. He cries some times to get mommy’s attention. She picks him up and gives him a kiss, but that’s all. She doesn’t blow raspberries on his tummy to make him laugh or give him an uncountable amount of kisses that she says show how much she loves us.
Most of all I miss the bed time stories and the routine kisses we got before bed. Dad went back to work so he only tucks us in sometimes, he reads us bedtime stories and gives kisses, but not mommy. She just tucks us in, kisses our forehead and walks back to Ollie’s room to cry. I miss Ollie, I wish he was here so mommy wasn’t sad anymore.
“Mommy what’s the surprise!” I yell, bouncing up and down on my spot on the couch.
She laughs a little and then slides Jason onto her lap, only for him to ask the same question. “Wait for daddy to get home in like two seconds so we can tell you together.” She does her excited mommy voice that makes you know how awesome the surprise is and tells you that it’s worth the wait.
“Tew us mommy!” Jason tries again, but mommy won’t give in. All she does is zip her lips with the invisible key which only makes me and Jason more anxious.
Finally I hear the garage door opening and see dad walking in with two bags that look like presents. Me and Jason can’t wait any longer so we run over and jump on him. Dad gives us a bear hug, his hugs are the best. “Go sit down next to mom and you’ll get your surprise.” He instructs us and we do as were told.
We tare open the two green gift bags and each pull out a red t-shirt. “Big Brother 1,” I read and look at them confused. “I’m already a big brother though?”
“Help Jason read his.” Mommy tells me.
He’s holding it upside down and I roll my eyes because three year olds are so dumb sometimes. I’m almost six which means I’m a lot smarter than my little bother. “Big Brother 2.” Now I’m really confused. “But Jason’s the little brother.”
“Not anymore. Theres a baby in mommy’s tummy. You guys are gonna have another brother.” Dad smiles and kisses the side of mommy’s head like he always does. Mommy’s smiling too, even bigger than dad’s smile if that’s possible.
“Another Brother! This is awesome!” Jason looks at me confused so I speak in three year old words so he can understand. “Jason this means we can finally play Batman vs Superman vs Hulk!”
“Another budda!” He joins in with me and we jump on mommy and daddy. “We get moe toys?” Dad starts laughing out the word yes and both mom and dad start to sing along with the ‘Another Brother Song’ we just created and tickle and kiss us.
Dad’s working tonight which means mommy is tucking us in. She comes to my room second because I don’t need as much help getting to bed. She pulls my covers over me, and I’m hoping what she does next is our routine kiss. A kiss on each cheek, then nose, then forehead. But she doesn’t, just one kiss on the top of my head. “Goodnight buddy,” she says after she kisses me, then leaves the door cracked like she always does.
I count to 100 in my head because I know that means she’s back in Ollie’s room by now. I hop down from my bed, grab two book options and sneak out of my room and down the hall. I tip toe past Ollie’s room and sneak into Jason’s that’s right across from it. Jason can’t fall asleep without a story, so until mommy isn’t sad anymore I’ve been reading him bedtime stories.
I climb onto his bed, it’s made for one person but we’re both small enough to fit. I tap him on the shoulder and he rolls over to face me. I think he was crying because even in the dark I can see his eyes are a little red. “Do you want me to read Goodnight Moon or Ten Minutes Till Bedtime?”
“Goodnight Moon.”
I knew he would pick that one, it’s his favorite. I turn on my book light and start reading the first page, second page, third page, then Jason stops me. “Danny?”
“Yeah Jace?”
“When mommy not gonna be sad anymoe?”
“I don’t know, but I hope it’s soon.” I continue reading because if I don’t I’ll start to cry. I don’t like to think about mommy being sad because it makes me sad. It makes me miss the old mommy that was always laughing or yelling at us to clean up our toys. I miss the mommy that read us bedtime stories and changed her voice to make us laugh. I miss the happy mommy that she was when she told us about Ollie being in her tummy. I know mommy misses Ollie a lot, but I miss mommy more.
This is the next installment of my Question Series. It’s going to be multiple parts and written from different point of views of my Question Series Hunt family.
When will mommy get better?
The question that feels like someone has taken a dagger to my heart. The question I’m asked repeatedly and have no answer to give. The question the two little blonde hair boys look up at me with sad eyes and ask on a day to day basis.
I stand in the kitchen five days after getting home from the hospital. I’m watching my boys play aimlessly on the floor in the family room. Their lego tower increasing in height by the second. Their round blue eyes scan over to their mother on the couch, curious as to why she hasn’t warned them not to build by the glass vase filled with flowers yet. She’s staring straight ahead at the blank television and it’s like I’m in her head because I know what she’s reliving over and over again.
I think the blood circulation in my hand is officially gone as she takes her last push. I’m without a doubt questioning my future surgical career because her touch has turned from delicate to unbearable, but I don’t say anything because the pain she is enduring is in an another galaxy compared to mine. I place a kiss on her forehead milliseconds before the doctors show us our new baby boy Oliver, milliseconds before our world goes up in flames.
“He’s not crying. Why isn’t he crying?” She yells as tears fall down her cheeks one by one, and the nervous pit of being a father again turns into a pit of fear.
I hear the doctors mumbling to one another, but I’m not there. My mind is elsewhere. Back to the room we spent hours decorating with Danny and Jason. Back to the days we argued over names and didn’t speak from breakfast to dinner until I finally gave into her stubbornness and apologized for being an ass. Back to the moment we told our boys they would have a new brother and the first question was “Does that mean we get more toys to play with?” And the minutes the word ‘yes’ left my mouth they started telling us all of the things they would teach him.
I watch from the kitchen as Danny whispers to Jason and soft, mischievous, giggles escape both of their lips. Jason’s hand gently pokes the end of the lego tower and pretty soon our tan carpet is consumed by the rainbow of red, blue, green, and yellows blocks scattered across the floor. They look toward their mother, waiting for her to do her usual laugh, and then tell them to clean it up before someone hurts their foot on the tiny blocks, but instead they get nothing.
Danny scrunches his eyebrows and slowly walks over to his mother who is still staring at the blank television still. “Mom, didn’t you see our tower fall,” he questions softly. I can tell he’s longing for her attention just by the desperation in his voice, but she doesn’t notice.
All she gives him is if a painful smile, “Make sure you clean them all up when your done.” She ruffles his hair, slowly stands up from the couch, and exits down the hallway. And all I do is watch as my six year old hangs his head and joins his little brother back on the floor.
I know what room she’s in, and I stand outside of the door watching as she hovers over the cherry wood crib that belonged to both of our boys at one point, and again know what she’s thinking about.
The morgue of the hospital is cold and dark. It’s not a part of the hospital I tend to visit often, but today I have to. Our son lays on the cold metal table, wrapped in a blue blanket. His eyes are the size of a small grape and the hair on his head is much darker than Danny’s and Jason’s when they were born. I know he would’ve had Amelia’s dark hair.
She’s standing in front of me, her petite frame shaking uncontrollably as she approaches the minuscule body laying in front of us. Her skin is paler than normal and I know its because she fells like she wants to die right now. I feel the same way, but I know I have to be strong for the both of us.
She places her hands on the metal table in front of her, her shaking only getting worse as she leans forward and places a kiss on the inch of forehead that is our sons. I’m about to hug her, an attempt to take her pain away, to let her know I’m here to fall a part with her. My body moves closer to hers and as soon as my hands reach her shoulders, a sound I will never forget screams out of her. Her hands remain on the table next to our son, while her body falls to a squat below it. Her cry reminds me of the sound someone makes when they’re shot, because to her she just has been.
I don’t go in the room, instead I decided our sons need me right now. I join them on the floor and begin to stack lego after lego. I continue doing so until I feel two sets of eyes staring at me. I gaze up, my face questioning why they’re staring when my six year old answers for the both of them. “When will mommy get better?”
I feel a tear slide down my face as the two broken hearts stare back at me. Danny is staying firm, I can tell he’s holding back how he’s feeling because his face is getting red, a clear indication that he’s trying not to cry. Jason crawls onto my lap and his small hands wrap around my neck, and it’s not until I feel my shoulder getting wet that I realize he’s crying. He may only be three, but he knows his mom isn’t his mom right now. I look back at Danny, he inhales slowly and huffs the air out of his mouth. He knows I don’t have an answer because he wipes his eyes, quickly gets up, and the next thing I hear is his bedroom door slamming shut.
He’s asked me this question before, each time in a slightly different way and for a slightly different reason. I don’t mean to stare, but sometimes what he’s doing and the way he’s doing it just consumes my every thought and I can’t help but stare.
I was cleaning up from the dinner he had just cooked for us, drying the now clean pot that once held pasta when he captivated me from across the room. He was sitting at the head of the kitchen table, papers upon papers scattered across the finished oak. Every now and then he would take his eyes away from the journal he was reading and jot down a few notes on one of the many patient files in front of him. I continued to watch as he would get frustrated and clamp his hands into a fist making his biceps grow even tighter against the already fitted navy t-shirt he was wearing.
Shockingly enough that’s not what had me captivated. Though it was a nice bonus watching his muscles grow tense with frustration, the real motion that kept my attention was the way he calmed himself down. It was simple and plain and no one would even notice it, but I did. His fist uncurled and the red color drained and returned to normal. His hand instinctively found its way to his hair, slowly brushing each finger through his strawberry blonde locks. Before his hand could find it’s way out of his curly mess of hair it would stop half way, trapping itself around his curls, then escaping.
His frustration had definitely gotten the best of him because as soon as his hand left his hair his eyes pealed away from the papers in front of him and found mine. “Are you staring at me?” He smirked, proud that he had caught me mesmerized by whatever it was he was doing.
“Maybe.” I smile back and place the now dry pot on the counter and pick up another dish as he looks back down at his papers.
I continue my task of drying, but when I place the next dish on the counter my line of vision is now in front of the chair two down from Owen where my five year old is engaged in his beginner reading book. I notice his eyebrows furrow together, a clear indication that he’s getting frustrated. I watch as he tries to work it out on his own. That’s when I notice it. His hands slowly curl into fists, the pale tone of his skin vanishing and being replaced with light pink. He releases his grip on the air and his hand finds its way to his head just like his fathers had moments before. His hand runs through his thick blonde waves, gripping onto to them briefly.
As his hand makes it’s way back to the pages of his book he glances up at me with a defeated look. I offer him a smile of encouragement, nodding my head only to receive an understanding nod back. He begins reading again and before I know it the page is being flipped.
I continue my tedious task that I would rather not being doing, continuing to look back and forth between my husband and oldest son. As I being to put the dishes back in the cupboard I hear a crash coming from the other room. Once I’m in the family room the first thing I see is my three year old standing in front of a now shattered vase near tears. There’s a pure look of panic and frustration spread across his face as he glances at the mess he created, to the book on the shelf he was clearly trying to get his hands on. And then I notice it, his hand is running through his hair, gripping onto his blonde curls just like his father and brother.
This is the second installment of my Question Series, enjoy!
What are you doing?
She’s always doing something to unwind from her hectic days, and there’s this certain question I ask her every time I see her doing it. I know why she’s doing it, I know as soon as the question leaves my mouth she’s going to let out a huff and an answer I already know, but I ask it anyway.
I’m in the bathroom connected to our bedroom, rinsing my face after the sport that was picking my oldest up from kindergarten when I here a body flop onto the bed. Given the amount of noise I heard in the room I assume it’s Amelia back from work with our youngest. I turn off the faucet and cautiously venture into our bedroom. I know I’m going to find her in the same position she collapses into after one of her long days and what do I know, there she is. Laying on her back, hands by her side, her feet the only things dangling off of the bed as she lays there staring back at the white ceiling.
I smile to myself as I open my drawer to our joint dresser and throw the first plain t-shirt I see over my head. That’s when I ask the question I already know the answer to and see the annoyance in her face as she stares blankly at the ceiling. “What are you doing?”
“Thinking.” She replies softly, still not making eye contact with me.
“About…” I prompt her into answering, expecting a long list of things that have her mind on a short leash, but get the answer I’m not expecting this time.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” She looked up at me and for the first time I see the exhaustion that has consumed her between her twelve hour shift and taking care of our boys. She lets her head collapse back onto our king sized bed, the few pieces that escaped her ponytail falling around her face when she lets out a relieving laugh, “I have had the most problematic day and for the first time in twelve hours I can actually think about and do nothing.”
I place a soft kiss on her forehead, her eyes are closed by I can tell she needed it from the growing smile on her face. I leave her to unwind, knowing that within ten minutes she’ll be up and running the house like she always does. I decide to get my boys and start their typical afternoon routine. Stepping into Danny’s bedroom I find two little bodies laying the exact same way I had just left my wife. Both sets of blonde hair on the bed just below the green throw pillows, one set of feet slightly further down the bed than the other. “What are you two doing?”
I’m slightly confused why my typically rambunctious children aren’t destroying everything in their paths, when my five year old looks up at me and says, “Me and Jason had a long day daddy,” then falls back onto the bed indicating how exhausting kindergarten and daycare can apparently be.
I step closer to bed, my shadow covering them completely when my three year old who appears to be asleep finally opens his eyes, “Weally long day daddy.”
As he closes his eyes once more I laugh to myself as I walk out of the room. It amazes me how something as dumb as the way my wife and kids unwind from their day can make mine a thousands times better. The little things they do, the quirks they have, make me love them even more than I ever thought possible.
This is the first story of my new series. It’s going to be called The Question Series. Each story is going to start off with a question that either Amelia, Owen, or one of their kids ask. If you have question recommendations keep the questions simple and send them in. Hope you enjoy :)
Why are you smiling?
She’s asked me this question or a form of it, too many times to count. I like to think it’s her way at gaining insight to why I love her without having to come off as sappy or insecure. Correction, I don’t think, I know. My wife has this way of wording things to warp you into admitting how you feel or what you really mean without you realizing it was her that had in fact prompted the question. And without hesitation, each time I fall deeper into the subtle trap she sets. I never notice it at first, but usually half way through my answer I realize what she’s done and how she’s done it.
We were laying in bed after a long night of passion, post putting our boys to bed. Her head was in its usual place resting on my bare chest, her chestnut locks tickling me slightly as she shifted. My left arm was wrapped around her, pulling her in as close as I could. My hand had slid under the arm of my t-shirt she was now wearing, tracing circles on her shoulder, when I placed a soft kiss against her forehead. I allowed myself to linger there briefly as my lips curled into a smile against her hair line. She decided to flip over onto her stomach, propping her chin on her hands that were laying flat on my chest when she asked, “What’s got you smiling like that?”
I ran my hand that was once wrapped around her through her messy head of hair, my fingers getting caught in the knots I had played a hand in putting there only moments ago. Her eyes did this thing where they narrowed downward while she slowly began to smile as if she already knew what my answer would be. As her skin sank into itself creating the dimples that sucked me in every time she smiled I couldn’t help but smile back. “Your smile.”
“Don’t be a sap.” She joked as she rolled off my chest and faced me, holding herself up on her elbow. “Why are you really smiling like that?”
“I answered you already.”
“Liar.” She teased, that’s when I noticed she was playing her game. Her game she played when she didn’t want to admit she was trying to flirt with you, the game she played when she wanted you to know she was secretly like every other person that liked getting told why someone loved them without her actually having to ask.
I let her win her own game because I love her, and that’s what you do when you love someone. “Your smile is why I’m smiling.” I say softly and seriously indicating that I’m not trying to be flirty anymore. Letting her know that her smile is one of the thousands of reasons why I love her by simply letting our eyes meet. And just as I’m leaning in to seal this silent declaration of love I just proclaimed to her, I notice the blonde hair, blue eyed five year old standing in our door way.
Rubbing his eyes with his tiny fist, he lets out a giant yawn before asking, “Can I sleep in here?” shooting me a smile that mirrors the exact one I fell in love with on his mom and I can’t say no. Amelia pats the middle of the bed and as if he’s not tired anymore, Danny runs into our room, jumps on the bed and claims his spot in between us. Next thing I know, Jason is standing in our doorway and just like his older brother and mother he shoots me that smile and that’s all that needs to be done. He takes his rightful spot between his mom and brother, closes his eyes and falls asleep.
She asks me this question, not constantly but enough for me to realize why she’s asking. Though I don’t commend her sneaky antics of tricking me into telling her how I feel, I enable it because that smile I fell in love with only gets bigger. The smile she and our boys flash that makes me putty in their hands is why I exist, to keep being the reason that makes that smile appear.
I'm starting a news series of fics with some knew Omelia kids. I'm still going to write in Shepherd-Hunt family world I've already created so don't worry! Who's ready for the first one of the new series? 🙋🏻
This is just a quick little one shot of Amelia with some of her Private Practice family. It’s set sometime after Amelia and Owen’s wedding.
Owen used all of his might to pull he and Amelia's suitcase out of the trunk of the cab. Amelia watched through the lens of her sunglasses as Owen used every muscle to lift the piece of luggage that was probably twice her size. "Jesus what did you pack in there, bricks?" His face was red, his veins budging out of his muscles, something that Amelia was secretly enjoying the view of from her spot on the sidewalk.
Tipping her glasses down, revealing her deep blue eyes, her voice did her best Owen impression she could give, "Just the essentials."
Wheeling the suitcase over to the sidewalk they were now making their way up the pathway to the front door of the house. He leaned forward as he followed Amelia, whispering in a low husky voice, "Is you red lingerie set one of those essentials?"
"Maybe..." Amelia teased as she stopped in her tracks, allowing her back to lean against Owens chest. Biting her bottom lip, knowing it drove him mad, she slowly turned herself around tilting her head in a flirty way. Owens hands found their way around her waist, pulling her petite frame into him as his lips met hers.
He kissed her slowly, each kissed filled with mystery. "Let's skip the birthday party." Another kiss. "And go straight for the after party." Another kiss. "Just you." Another kiss. "And me." He kissed her again, this times her hands linking around his neck as she continued to laugh between each kiss.
"Either get a room or give me hug." The southern accent rang through the outdoors, the pair pulling a part only for both of their eyes to meet the skinny blonde standing in the doorway of the house.
"Charlotte!" Amelia smiled as she sped walked to the door to meet her best friend, leaving Owen to grab the luggage. She swung her arms around the blonde, Charlotte mimicking.
Before Charlotte could open her mouth to speak a tiny body crashed against their legs, followed by giggles filling the air. "Amelya!" The little blonde Charlotte look a like gazed up at her long lost aunt, holding her arms out to be picked up.
Amelia scooped up the five year old, giving her a tight hug. "Georgia, how's my favorite oldest triplet?"
"You're silly Amelya!"
Owen was now standing next to his wife, his hand instinctively finding the small of her back. "Wanna meet someone special?" She asked the little girl wide eyed.
"Is dis Owen?" She giggled, then put her hands over her mouth to cover her smile.
"It's nice to officially meet you not via Skype Owen." Charlotte held out her hand, Owens following suite. Putting Georgia down Amelia and Owen followed Charlotte inside, only to find Cooper in a game of chase with Rachel and Caroline, and an amused Mason watching from the kitchen counter. "Rachel, daddy needs that for work you have to put it down." Cooper was pleading with his five year old from one end of the couch, and on the other she and her sister held his binder of patient files, on the verge of destroying them.
"Wow Coop, of all the stories about you and women, this is by far the best one."
"Oh how I've missed filter less Amelia." He smiled back at the brunette while his daughters quickly ran to hug their favorite aunt.
"I'll ignore the sarcasm and choose to believe you've actually missed me." She shot him sarcastic smile as she moved closer to Mason and ruffled his hair as her version of a hello.
Owen watched as Amelia moved so naturally around Charlottes house as if she had always been there. Something was different about Amelia in LA, something changed. She was still the Amelia he knew and loved, but there was a certain aura about her here. She relaxes, completely comfortable as if she never left and saw them everyday. Owen couldn't help but wear a soft smile, his eyes glistening with love as he watched her move around the house.
“I know you just got off a plane, but we have a party to set up for.” Charolette said, motioning for Mason to leave his spot at the counter and finish blowing up balloons. “Owen guest room is down the stairs and on the left, Amelia I need your help in the kitchen.” She shot Amelia a look of desperation only for Owen to chuckle. “You need her in the kitchen?” He asked unbelievably.
“Not cook.” Charlotte said as if that was obvious. “Cake decorating.”
Amelia stared down at the cake, pretty impressed with her creative work. She had somehow turned Charlottes disastrous ‘happy birthday girls’ written in pink frosting into a pink frosted cake with a rainbow going across the top and ‘happy birthday’ written under it. If surgery somehow failed her she definitely had a future career in cake decorating.
“I told you when you grew up to come find me, not go get married.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw the person she had been waiting to see since she and Owen decided to come to LA for the weekend.
“Sheldon!” She wrapped her arms around his neck, clenching onto him because it had been far too long. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” He pulled away from his best friend, smiling back at her for the first time in what felt like a life time. “So tell me why this red-head won your heart and took my chances with you away.” He joked, copying Amelia’s position leaning back against the table.
Blushing at his words Amelia couldn’t help but smile as she and Sheldon faced the party, both watching Owen and Cooper run around the backyard with all of the kids. “He’s pretty great isn’t he.”
Sheldon turned his gaze from the party, now looking at Amelia. His once childish, filterless, self destructive best friend finally found something worth keeping it all together for. As he watched the blue eyes he once wanted to be lost in, sparkle as she watched Owen pick up one of the triplets and tickle her, he knew something he had known since that day he sat in her hospital room. Amelia Shepherd was destine for happiness, she deserved a break at the cruelties life threw at the world everyday more than anyone, and she deserved a chance to prove everyone who ever doubted her wrong. “My best friend isn’t twelve anymore.”
He swung his arm around her, Amelia resting her head on his shoulder has if it was something she did everyday. And as if she new exactly what his mind was thinking, exactly what he wanted to say but knew he didn’t have to, Amelia said what only confirmed Sheldon’s already found perception of her. “I’m all grown up Sheldon.”
Here is the final installment to this series. All parts can be found here. Thanks to everyone who read it, hope you like the ending :)
Week One
Her legs were folded pretzel style, shoulders slouching, her tiny fingers twiddling with the end of her braid her mother had put in her hair earlier that day. She looked at the carpet, her eyes following the circular pattern within each square. For a doctors office the colors were happy colors, light blue and white, not like the boring colors that were in the waiting rooms in the part of the hospital her mommy and daddy worked in. She liked this carpet better, but she wasn’t too thrilled she was waiting here to talk to a doctor. The walls were different too. They weren’t a plain tan color with paintings of places she didn’t even know existed or the weird streaks of random colors that people called art even though she knew her four year old brother could color better than that. These walls were a pale yellow, a happy color, filled with paintings of fun places and objects like Disney World and animals. As her head followed the paintings around the room her gaze fell on the one particular wall across from her that was filled with colorful hand prints. Every color of the rainbow and more filled the giant white wall in numerous sizes of hands some smaller than hers, some a little bigger, and inside each hand print were two words written very small. “Mommy, daddy, what are those?”
“I’m not sure we’ll have to ask Dr.Nash.” Owen replied, before turning his attention toward the door next to them opening.
“Lucy Shepherd-Hunt.” A red-headed women stood in the door way, taller than her mom, but still shorter than her dad. She wore grey dress, her hair pulled into a high ponytail, and a welcoming smile.
“We’ll be right here when you get out bunny.” Amelia rubbed her daughters back as she slid of the chair and walked over to the door. Lucy looked back at her parents, a sad smile on her face as she waved to them before entering the room.
Lucy sat on the brown leather sofa across from the red-headed women who sat on an almost Identical smaller one. This room was even better than the other one, it was sky blue with butterflies on the wall and pictures of the some kids smiling next to the red-head. In one corner was a mini play area with dolls and legos and a number of other toys. When she was done scanning her surroundings she finally asked what she was wondering. “You’re Dr.Nash right?”
“I am, but you can me Michelle.” She smiled at Lucy as she set a few items on the table that separated them.
“You can me Lucy or Lulu. You don’t have to say my whole name like you just did.”
“Sounds like a plain.” Michelle laughed a little as she watched the little girl continue to examen the room. “Would you like to color for a little bit?”
Nodding, Lucy slid of the couch and kneeled in front of the table, carefully scanning her options of color. Picking up a crayon she began to doodle on the blank sheet of paper while Michelle wrote something down. “Am I sick?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Daddy goes to a ther-pist cause his head is sick.” She continued looking at her picture as she answered.
“No you’re not sick, your mom and dad just wanted me to talk to you.”
“That’s what mommy and daddy told me too, I was just checking.” She giggled for a few seconds and then returned to coloring her picture.
“What are you drawing?”
“My mommy.” She said as she drew brown wavy line creating hair.
“Whats that mark right there.” Michelle leaned forward pointing to the brown line across what she believed to be Amelia’s forehead.
“That’s where mommy’s scar is. Daddy hurt her cause his head is sick, that’s why he goes to ther-py.”
“Do you get scared your daddy will hurt you too?”
Lucy shrugged, putting down her crayons and sitting back on the couch. “I don’t wanna color anymore.”
Week Two
“Do I get to color today Dr.Michelle?” Lucy asked as she stacked the red, green, and blue lego’s.
“Maybe after this.” She said as she handed Lucy another lego. “What are you building?”
“My house.” Continuing stacking the legos Lucy, began to create more and more spaces. She pointed to each square she had created describing which room it was. “That’s my room, Chrisfers room, Livy’s room, and mommy and daddy’s room. Except only mommy sleeps in there right now, daddy still sleeps on the couch.”
“Do mommy and daddy tuck you in every night?”
“Yup, but if they’re working then grandma does or Sarah, she’s our babysitter.” Sitting back from her lego set, she tilted her head in question, “Can I color now?”
“Sure, would you like to pick out a piece of colored paper today.” Lucy nodded, then walked over to the shelf of paper, picking out a grey sheet of paper. “Why’d you pick grey?”
“I don’t know. I wanna draw an ocean and blue and grey look good together.”
“Your mommy told me you had a pretty scary dream last night, do you want to tell me about it?”
“I guess.” She shrugged as she traced the outline of the ocean and shading it in. “I had a dream that daddy hurt mommy again, except I woke up before I knew if she was oaky.”
“Daddy’s doctor helped him get better though didn’t he?”
“Yeah, I just get nervous that he’ll get sick again. Sometimes mommy’s patients get sick again. I don’t like when daddy’s sick, he’s not the same daddy.”
Michelle looked back at Lucy as she continued to color fish in her ocean. She wasn’t like most kids Michelle saw on the regular, Lucy was different. Lucy understood things in a very mature way for her age, she picked up on things most kids wouldn’t. “The truth is Lucy, sometimes doctors cant promise people will be better, but we have to trust that the people we love will go back to the doctor when they need to.”
Pausing her creative mind and listening carefully to what Michelle was saying, Lucy rested her chin on her hand. “Do you mean I should let daddy tuck me in and help me when I’m scared cause he loves me.”
“You don’t have to do it right now, but I’d like you to think about it for me. Do you think you can do that?”
“I think so.” She answered just before Michelle’s phone went off, letting her know their session had ended. Lucy quickly finished the last touch of her drawing, then meeting Michelle by the door where her mom was waiting behind. “You can keep my picture Dr.Michelle. Oh and I like your wall of hands over there.” She smiled before running into her moms arms.
Week Three
“Mommy?” Lucy looked up from her spot at her mothers feet where she was playing peekaboo with her baby sister. “Can I show Livy the hand wall?”
“Stay behind her and walk really slow though okay?” Amelia instructed as she stood her one and half year old on her feet.
Letting her hands hover behind Olivia’s back, Lucy guided her across the room to the wall of hands. “Walk to the hand wall Livy, right there.” Amelia laughed as she watched her six year old instruct her youngest on what to do.
“Dr.Shepherd, could we talk quickly?” Michelle said as she stood just outside of her office door.
Amelia stood up from her chair, adjusting her shirt as she walked over to Michelle. “Everything still okay with Lucy?” Concern filling her voice as she spoke.
“Yes, Lucy is doing really well.” She reassured before approaching her original topic. “I would like Dr.Hunt to pick her up today. I want to see how she does with just the two of them.”
“Is it time to go in?” Lucy ran over, her little sister wobbling behind her in an attempt to keep up.
Amelia closed the gab, scooping her youngest up, her oldest standing in front of her legs. Lucy leaned back against her moms legs, while her mom kissed the top of her head.
“Daddy’s going to pick you up today okay?”
“Not you?” She asked cautiously.
“Just daddy, and then you’ll meet me at home, sound good?”
Lucy looked from her mom to Michelle back to her mom, worry washing over her face, her eyes widening as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She looked back at Michelle who gave her a reassuring nod. “I guess so.”
Following Michelle into the room Lucy immediately went over to the shelf of paper, picking out a white sheet, grabbed a hand full of crayons and began to color. “What are you coloring today?”
“My brother and sister. Do you have a different orange crayon, I have to color Livy’s hair it’s the same as yours.”
Week Four
“I think you’re going to be an artist one day.” Michelle commented as Lucy colored her picture on the table.
“I wanna be a artist.” She smiled excitedly at Michelle then looked back down to add more to her picture. “Or a doctor. I haven’t decided yet.”
“What kinda of drawing are you making today?”
“I’ll show you when I’m done.” Lucy said nonchalantly before asking a question that had lingering in her mind for the past few weeks. “What’s the paint for?” The paint just sat in the bin, completely untouched for each session and she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t killing her to paint instead of color.
“You’ll find out soon.” Michelle smiled, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the six year olds picture.
“There all done!” Lucy presented her picture, grinning from ear.”It’s me and daddy. We went for a bike ride yesterday just us two and then went to grandmas for lunch.”
“Sounds like you had a fun day.”
“Lots of fun!”
As the timer went off once again they both knew it was the end. “Looks like our times all up for today.” Opening the door for the little girl Michelle watched Lucy leave her office for the eighth time in the past four weeks, but something was different this time. In the waiting room Owen was siting patiently, when Lucy crashed into his legs, throwing her arms around his neck. Completely ecstatic, wearing a giant grin that mimicked his daughter’s Owen stood up, picking Lucy up and placing a kiss on her forehead. “Daddy I drawed this for you!”
“Lucy I forgot one thing, wait right here.” Michelle said, disappearing back into her office and reappearing moments later with the bin of paint in her arms. “Pick out a color.”
“Why I thought our we were all done today?”
“There’s one more thing I need you to do.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Lucy wiggled down form her fathers arms, and peered into the bin of color. Her tiny hands shuffled through, moving each color to the side until he found the right one. Finally finding the right one she reach all the way in, pulling out a dark purple tube of paint. “What are we doing with it?”
“Hold out your hands.” Lucy did as she was told, her mouth opening wide once she realized Michelle was pouring the tube of paint onto her hands. She guided Lucy over to the wall in the room that had caught Lucy’s eye from day one, the wall that she so desperately wanted to paint herself. “These hand prints are from all of the kids that came here to talk to me just like you. When we don’t have to talk anymore I have them put their hand print up here.”
“So I won’t come here to talk to you anymore?” She said hanging her head.
“Well, I always love surprise visits, but you don’t need to come see me anymore. I think you’re going to be just fine.” Lucy pressed both hands against the white wall, pressing her palms down hard to make sure the paint stuck. When she moved them away two dark purple hands print were left next to a plethora of other hand prints and Michelle carefully wrote Lucy’s name in black sharpie.
Patience is key when it comes to healing. All though we want the pain to go away automatically life doesn’t quite work like that. The good things take time. Building relationships, building trust, building love, they all take time. That’s all Lucy needed, was little bit of time to rebuild that love and trust Owen had never meant to take.
