Disclaimer: Not mine. Ever.
-Lyrics – "Bed is Too Small" – Lullaby -- Author unknown
The little girl smiles sleepily, her eyelids already drooping. "Sing me a song, Daddy," she mumbles as he tucks her into bed.
"Of course, princess," he whispers. He clears his throat softly, and then begins her favorite lullaby.
Bed is too small for my poor, tired head
Give me a hill topped with trees…
His voice is rich, smooth, and the little girl's eyes close entirely as the song continues. Noticing this, he pauses, but she begs for more, her eyes beginning to open a crack. He smiles gently, obligingly, and continues the song.
….Tuck a cloud up under my chin
Lord, blow the moon out, please
His daughter is now asleep, her blonde hair fanned against the pillow. He gets up and leaves the room quietly, leaving her door open a crack in case she wakes in the night. That way he can hear her better if she calls for him.
He walks downstairs, pausing midway when he imagines he hears a whimper from her room. There's no further sound, and he continues on his way.
At the bottom of the stairs, he turns left and enters the family room. It is a cozy setting, a room with comfortable furniture, treasured family photos, and a large bookcase perfect for holding both father and daughter's books.
He has just sat down to read when a frightened cry from upstairs reaches his ears. In a flash, he is climbing the stairs to her room, his heart pounding in his chest as he wonders what his daughter's latest nightmare might be.
He enters her room in a rush, only to find her still asleep. It is only a nightmare, one that appears to have already passed. In her anxiety, she has tossed her covers off, and he re-tucks them around her gently.
He kisses her forehead before he leaves again, and once more returns downstairs to his reading. But he cannot stay focused on his book. Instead, he finds his eyes roving the room until they stop on a particular portrait.
Within it are three smiling individuals: a young couple, and a small girl, the same one that is sleeping in the room upstairs. All are blond, although the woman's hair is slightly darker than that of the other two. All three pairs of eyes are variants of the color blue, the young man's sapphire, the woman's blue-gray, and the girl's cerulean. It is clear that these three individuals are a family: father, mother, daughter.
His lips quirk into a bittersweet smile. A family, yes, that they had been…but not anymore. His gaze moves to another portrait, featuring the same young man and small girl. The woman is missing.
By comparing the two photos, it is clear that only a short time passed between them. Other portraits within the room show older portraits of the girl. Her father, too, appears older in each of them. And the absence of the mother is plain as day. Her nonexistence haunts every photograph – there is always a shadow in his eyes, although you would have to look hard to see it.
He stands, leaving his book on his seat, and crosses to the final photograph his gaze has landed on. He looks at it only briefly, before touching his fingers to his lips. He then presses them gently against the glass separating him from the image of his wife. "Goodnight, Vanessa," he whispers softly.
Knowing that now he cannot concentrate on reading, he makes his way upstairs once more. In the room he still considers to be theirs, not just his, he prepares for bed. Once he has crawled beneath the sheets, he closes his eyes. His breathing slows after a time, and dreams come upon him. And in those dreams, he sees her, and he smiles. In those dreams, it is possible for Joe Hardy to find peace.