She was a beautiful child, maybe four years old, with curling blonde hair just like her mother's. She made her way confidently across the park jungle gym, smiling surely at the other children as if daring them to tell her she didn't own the place. People were always saying she and her father shared that childishly self-confident grin.
"Mags!" her father called to her. "C'mon kiddo, we've gotta go." She slid gracefully down the slide and hopped to her feet before skipping over to her father.
"Four," she told him upon her spectacular arrival, taking her father's outstretched hand so he could lead her away from the park.
"Four?" her dad asked. "Four what, Maggie?"
"Hats," she told him simply. "Hello Kitty on the monkey bar girl, the beanie on the babysitter, checker man's floppy hat, and the cowboy kid." Her father didn't need to look to know she was right, he'd seen them too.
"Whatcha counting hats for, Maggie?" her father asked as the two of them walked to where the girl's mother was waiting.
"Cuz," she explained. "Grandpa says it's gonna help someday."
"Help?" her father asked, taking a silent note-to-self to reprimand his daughter's grandfather. "With what?"
"I dunno," the girl replied, then lost interest as she caught sight of her mother on a park bench under a tree waiting patiently for her to return. She let go of her father's hand and headed towards her mother's familiar warm smile.
"Did you have fun?" the child's mother asked her as she approached. The girl nodded.
"Mmhhmm," she said. "There are four hats and Tam lied about not liking Clairey cuz he only scratches his nose like that when he's lying."
"I think we need to have a talk with Grandpa about what should and should not be occurring during visits," her father explained to her mother. Her mother smiled knowingly and rose, holding her hand out to her daughter. The child allowed her mother her hand then, for symmetry's sake, took her father's in the other as the family walked away from the park.
"Are we going to see Uncle G?" the girl asked.
"Yeah, how'd you know?" her father asked, impressed.
"She's just like her dad," her mother replied, leaning over her daughter to kiss her husband.
"Yeah," her father said as the girl swung her parents' hands playfully. "Imagine that." In that moment, hand in hand with his daughter, right beside his wife, he felt truly content. Nothing could ruin this perfect reality for him. Happily, he squeezed his daughter's hand and enjoyed the moment.
...
The child was beautiful, maybe four years old, playing quietly across the hall in the waiting room with her father, oblivious to the anxiety on the poor man's face. Juliet offered the man a silent encouragement and an apology that she could not allow him more of her concern as she turned away.
Her eyes fixed on the figure in the bed, the white hospital shirt so unlike his usual style, but not the most ridiculous thing he'd ever worn. The smile that sprouted on her face at the thought was strained with worry and could only tickle her tired eyes due to the dark bags hanging underneath them. It felt like she hadn't slept in days, but how could she? Not when he was sleeping for both of them.
"C'mon, Shawn," she whispered, stroking his hand. She hadn't let go since the moment she'd been allowed to touch him again after she'd found out about the accident. She couldn't let go, not when to let go could mean letting go of him forever.
"Please come back."