Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs or the characters. I do reserve the right to the storyline and the three children of Don and Robin.
Author's Note: Written for Father's Day.
Mid morning rays cast small shadows, darkening bits and pieces of the mantle's items. Like any other typical fire place mantle, items dotted the surface: a candle on the left edge, a long stretch of some plant, and, of course, pictures.
Standing upright, one arm braced for support, Don Eppes's fingers traced over the picture frames. Many pictures could be found throughout their house, capturing every moment from his family's life: exchange of vows, births, birthdays, firsts of almost everything, dances and dates, and graduations.
But the ones on the mantle were special. The silver frames held pictures of his children. There was one of Don teaching his eldest son how to play baseball, captured by Robin without either of the two males noticing. His other son and youngest child preferred the sport of soccer and there were two photos of him in his jersey and another from the state finals game; the high school team had finished second, but it was second in the entire state nonetheless.
And at the very end, tilted ever so slightly to the right as if to draw his eye, was a captured moment of his second born and only daughter. The middle child, his baby girl, stood fully garbed in her graduation robes, many cords and accolades hanging perfectly around her neck; in her petite hands, she clutched her diploma for the entire world to see, wide smile indicating her pride and joy.
Don smiled at the picture of his daughter but the smile froze, suddenly remembering what today was. It was Father's Day and while his eldest son was in college at UCLA and his youngest child was still in high school, this was the first Father's Day that his daughter would not be here for.
Inheriting the brilliance that flowed through the Eppes genes, come her senior year, Cordelia had received many offers from exceptional schools. The acceptance offers and letters had flowed through the mailbox, spanning from here in Los Angeles to the East Coast.
With much deliberating and some arguing on both his and Robin's part, Cordelia had finally decided to enroll at Harvard – three thousand miles away from her family – and move away to begin her adult life. She'd been homesick for many weeks and had even wanted to transfer home at one point, but Don had firmly said no to that, knowing that she loved the school and would eventually see that. And she had.
However, even though colleges had ended their semesters and let out for the summer, his daughter had decided on taking two courses this summer. That meant she was still three thousand miles away from him and would miss Father's Day.
Father's Day was something of a tradition in their home. The morning was always taken up by his youngest son fixing him breakfast, something that Robin had started when Edward had been a child and he'd never quite stopped. The afternoon would see him tossing a baseball around with Donovan.
And the night was reserved for him and his daughter, where they would watch some screwball comedy, quoting the lines and making fun.
Edward had already made him pancakes and Donovan would be over later. But there would be no late night movie tonight. That thought brought a sigh from his lips and a wave of sadness with crests of longing and depression crashed over him. This past year had been difficult with her absence, hard on both him and Robin.
He missed her so very much…
The phone ringing jolted him from that particular thought and Don was glad. That road only led to dark thoughts that were hard on his heart and brought moodiness to the surface.
Quiet voices of his wife and whomever it was on the line came from the kitchen and Don assumed that the call was not for him.
A moment later and he was proved wrong. Robin Eppes – formally Robin Brooks – pushed through the swinging kitchen door. She held the cordless phone out to him, smiling and shaking her head when he mouthed 'Who is it'.
Perplexed as to why she would not tell him who it was on the phone, Don held it to his ear and said, "Hello?"
"Daddy! Happy Father's Day!"
Don's eyes shot to his wife and she smiled before heading back into the kitchen.
"Hey, Sweetie. How are you?"
The frown was erased from his face as his daughter's voice came through the phone from three thousand miles away. Don made his way to his favorite chair and sat.
A permanent grin came over his face as he listened to her chatter away; she'd always been a talker.
His eyes caught the picture of her above the fireplace.
Happy Father's Day, indeed.
The End.
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