The realization of what it meant to lose the farm settles over them slowly, creeping up in unexpected moments. When they turn the dry taps in the bathroom of one building or another, or when they are forced to move in the early dawn to escape Walkers on their doorstep. Nights give way to mornings and mornings to nights, and before they know it they have been living a transient lifestyle for weeks.
They make beds of the passenger or backseats of their vehicles, sometimes the couches in a clinic… often the ground, whether it be outside or indoors. Lori always makes sure Carl is as warm as possible first, picking the spot closest to the fire for him, or the furthest away from a drafty door. He often sleeps with his head on her lap, or under her arm when they share a sleeping bag.
Her pregnancy hits her hard – both her days and nights are plagued with exhaustion and nausea. She chokes down her meals, only to bring them up minutes later out the window of a moving vehicle or at the perimeter of their camp. She worries constantly: about her children, Rick, food, and gasoline.
She cries the first night that it snows, curled up on a single bed with her son wrapped in her arms, shivering as the temperature dips below zero. Hot tears cool quickly on her cheeks as she buries her face in Carl's shoulder, suppressing sobs of anxiety. When Daryl appears at her side she waves him off, assuring him that the hormones are getting the best of her. He looks uncomfortable and shifts, glancing at Carol across the room. The other woman is asleep and of no use to him, so he digs around in his pocket and pulls out something that crinkles in his hand.
He holds it out to her and she accepts the mushy chocolate bar, one eyebrow rising in question. He shrugs and tells her to just eat the damn thing before he stalks away to go back to his watch.
The grateful smile that she sends his way meets only the barrier of his back.
The chocolate is sweet and soft as she slips a piece of it into her mouth and chews. It doesn't put a roof over their heads, real food in their bellies, or fuel in the vehicles. It doesn't make the snow stop tumbling to the ground, the room any less cold, or Rick any warmer to her – but somehow her tears dry. She folds the wrapper over and places the remaining bar on the crate next to the bed for later, deciding they could all use a little pick-me-up.
XXXX
The inn appears like an oasis on the horizon and she can barely believe it when they pull up to the high iron and brick gates. The property is completed enclosed and set far back enough in a clearing that she is sure they would be able to see for miles from the attic window. She looks both directions along the dirt road before telling Carl he can get out of the vehicle.
Lori gets out too, eager to stretch the kinks that have knotted the muscles in her back and legs. She pulls her too small jacket over her slowly expanding middle and joins Carol at the hood of the car. They stand close to each other and link arms, watching as Daryl and T-Dog use bolt-cutters to snap the thick chain that holds the gates closed.
As she waits she combs the long snowy fields that surround the house, dipping down into a small frozen pond in the corner of the property furthest away from them. The house is large, big enough for all of them she is sure. She wants to call it Victorian, but she isn't exactly sure of its era of design. She knows that it is beautiful though, with its carved stick-work eaves, turned porch columns, and bay windows.
She meets Carol's eyes and knows she is thinking the same thing – maybe this will be home.
They pile back into the vehicles and approach the house by following the drive, barely visible beneath the snow except for where it is dipped lower. Rick instructs them to stay put with the exception of Daryl, Glenn, and Maggie, whom he takes with him to search the house.
T-Dog and Hershel get out of the vehicles to keep watch, and Lori waits anxiously, her fingers drumming against her thighs. She wants so badly for this to be a place where they can settle down, even if just for a while.
Maggie comes out alone minutes later, her face lit with a smile. She knocks on the window of the pick-up truck on her way past it, and then yanks the backdoor behind Lori open, announcing that she and Glenn have claimed the front room upstairs.
In the end she, Rick, and Carl get the front room because it is the biggest and soon they will be sharing with a baby too. Hershel takes the smallest one across the hall that is adjoined by a bathroom to the one T-Dog and Daryl agree to share, though Daryl already has his eye on the rafters in the attic as a place to hang his hammock.
Carol falls in love with the small wood-burning stove in the only bedroom downstairs and she claims it, taking Beth as a roommate. Maggie and Glenn end up in the last room at the end of a long narrow hallway, but they don't complain about the distance, their eyes twinkling as they carry their bags up the stairs.
Lori exchanges the dusty bed-sheets on her and Rick's bed for a fresh pair that she finds in the large walk-in closet attached to their room. She carries the remaining sets out into the hallway and places the pile on a small land-line table for everyone else.
Carl goes outside with his father to do a sweep of the property, leaving her alone in their room to unpack. The bay window conveniently unfolds into a pullout single bed, though she worries that he will be cold so close to the window. Her hand falls to the gentle swell of her belly as she looks out the window, adorned with decorative glass, to her son standing by the pond, his hands shoved into his pockets as he prods the ice with one foot.
Glenn finds her still wistful moments later and he offers her an apology for intruding. She waives off his words, her eyes falling to the stack of firewood in his arms. She thanks him and watches as he kneels beside the mantle and begins to lay the wood in the bricked firebox. He lights a long match and some commercial firestarter, bringing the dry wood to life.
The room immediately begins to fill with smoke and he looks alarmed, telling her to get help. She laughs despite her burning eyes coughs as the smoke hits the back of her throat. Crossing over to him quickly she shows him where the damper is and wiggles it, opening it to a rain of ash and cinder that falls down onto her hand.
Glenn opens the bay window and shuffles out of the room, telling her he will remember that for next time.
XXXX
That night they eat in the parlour room around a fireplace that is so large that Lori is sure Carl could walk straight in without ducking. Their meal is meager – some canned chilli and crackers, and Lori craves cheese and garlic toast. Once she is finished eating she places her bowl on the end-table beside her and lets her head drop back against the high back of the antique sofa. The furniture is surprisingly comfortable and she stares at the flames of the fire, allowing her mind to wander, her hand massaging her belly.
She is startled when T-Dog announces that he'll take first watch, and she quickly gets to her feet, unsure of how long she had drifted off for. When she begins to collect bowls she is stopped by Carol who insists that she take the night off. Lori glances at the dirty dishes in her hands and considers arguing but is quickly ushered towards the stairs by the short-haired woman.
Lori agrees, admitting that she is beyond exhausted and promises that she will make it up to Carol at breakfast as she hands over the bowls and cutlery. Carl follows her upstairs and she changes into a pair of thick flannel pyjama pants and an over-sized t-shirt that almost completely conceals her bump.
She steals one of Rick's t-shirts for Carl and nags him until he changes his underwear. Their dirty clothes are left in a pile by the door for the next day and she gives her son a long hug goodnight, their toes curled into the area rug, warmed by the fire. He rests his hand against her belly that is centered again his chest and looks up at her, telling her that she thinks the baby will like it here.
Carl is asleep when Rick comes in hours later, but she is not. She listens to the sounds of him stoking the fire, and then his clothes rustling as he undresses. He crawls into bed nude and lays alongside her, his skin much cooler than hers. She reaches for his hand, but he turns over until his back is to her, and then punches his pillow to mould it before he settles into it with a gruff sigh.
Swallowing tears, Lori closes her eyes and curls up, eventually falling asleep.
XXXX
The girl – Woman, Lori has to keep correcting herself – appears days later, a tiny speck at the end of the road that morphs into the distinct shape of a person, and then a female as it draws closer. She is tiny, barely reaching Lori's shoulder and she wears her Auburn hair twisted into a fishtail braid that falls over her shoulder, almost touching the curve where her ribs slope into her abdomen.
She introduces herself as Claire.
The invite her to spend the night, instantly trusting the way her easy laugh crinkles the bridge of her nose, and then the grief in her voice as she explains that she is the only one left of her family and group who were killed by Walkers weeks before.
Lori organizes for her to sleep in the parlour, just temporarily until they are able to make other arrangements. As she de-bones the game that Daryl brought back from his hunt, she wonders if they can convert the tiny business room upstairs into a bedroom – I would be a tight squeeze, but large enough for one person. They would need another bed for her, and one for Carl who has been eying the walk-in closet in their room with longing.
She knows he is a growing boy who needs his privacy, and the problem will only increase when the baby comes… suddenly the house feels too small. The other room erupts with laughter following Claire's soft-toned voice and Carol comes into the kitchen in stitches, holding her side. Though she isn't in on the joke, Lori laughs at the other woman's expression and asks her to check on the bread in the oven.
XXXX
Hershel finds three goats when he goes out on a run with Maggie and Glenn to raid the surrounding houses. Lori is excited to see the beds for Carl and Claire, but even more so to see that the Nanny is heavily pregnant. She helps him to tie the female and two males to a tree at the end of a footpath where he has decided they will build a shelter.
She spends the day grilling Hershel on how to care for their new animals while they construct a simple wooden structure made from plywood found underneath the porch. Lori knows she is more a nuisance than an asset as she is told over and over again not to lift whatever it is that she has in her hands.
Rolling her eyes good-naturedly she puts the object down and go back to petting the Nanny while she watches the others work. She feels an odd connection to the creature and she strokes its thick wiry hair, trailing her hand over the goat's swollen sides.
The shelter is finished off with a simple jointed fence that doesn't even require any screws, which they used up on the shelter. She helps Maggie lay straw down before they guide the goats inside and lock them up for the night.
As she prepares dinner with Beth and Carol she can't stop thinking about buttermilk pancakes and cheese. Her mouth waters and her cheeks flush as she admits her thoughts to Carol, who confirms that she has been thinking the same thing.
XXXX
They remain vigilant and ever cautious, keeping their watches all day and all night, keeping their heads down, their vehicles packed with emergency supplies at the ready should they be forced to evacuate. Once bitten, twice shy.
However, despite their emergency readiness, the peace that comes with routine settles over the group. They find their niches, each contributing to the group in the best way that they can.
Lori feels at ease as the birth of her child creeps slowly closer. She knows that she still has plenty of time – the snow hasn't even begun to melt yet, but she Carol and Hershel have already begun to prepare for the event.
The baby had begun to flutter inside her, especially when she lays prone on her bed while Hershel prods her belly, examining her at least once every few days. He has acquired a small medical kit, complete with a stethoscope that he warms between his hands before pressing low to the bare skin of her abdomen. Rick sometimes attends her check-ups, but he keeps his distance, usually taking a spot in the chair in the corner beside the closet where Carl has been sleeping.
She has given up on encouraging Rick to come closer, instead keeping her attention focused on the sound of her baby's heartbeat when Hershel transfers the buds to her ears from his.
Although they still share their bed, she and her husband share little else besides short-tempered spats and passive-aggressive words that cut her to the core each time. She airs her frustration at him for not speaking, and he at her for speaking too much, but somehow she can't stop herself because the oppressive silence between them has become deafening.
Lori tries to be pleasant, to extend a white flag - to reach out to him. But each time she is met with cold silence or impatient hostility.
The first time she catches them they are in the kitchen. It is well past midnight, Lori knows, and she has woken with a parched throat, desperate for a glass of water. The lantern in the kitchen is on when she reaches the bottom of the stairs and she assumes it is Rick, whose side of the bed she woke to find empty.
She is right, though she finds that he is not alone. He has her bent over the kitchen island, his face a mixture of pleasure and aggression as he fucks her from behind, his hand closed over her mouth silencing her, her long braid looped over his wrist, swinging back and forth with each thrust.
Lori's hand finds its way to her mouth as she stares wide-eyed, too shocked to confront them, too stunned to run away. She wishes the floor would open up and swallow her whole, that the pressure in her chest as her heart rips would just tear her in half and have it be done with. Instead the seconds continue to tick by and it occurs to her that her husband is fucking another woman just the way she likes it… As that realization slams into her she is knocked out of her trance and the concrete that had fixed her to the floor disintegrates, releasing her. She backpedals out of the room and up the stairs, barely able to swallow down the vomit that is rushing up her esophagus.
Limbs shaking so badly that she fumbles with the blanket as she gets into bed, she lies in the dark, her heart racing so hard against her ribcage that she is sure the whole world can hear it.
She is devastated, humiliated, and bone-crushingly heartbroken as she stifles her sobs into the palms of her hands.
When he comes in the sun is creeping up over the windowsill and she is still awake, watching its thin rays glimmer on the icy crisp snow that has collected along the bottom pane. He smells like soap and his hair is damp when he falls into the bed beside her, sighing with relief.
She isn't crying anymore – there is nothing left inside her, just an empty void of nothingness that feels like a vacuum, pulling at her with such intensity that she is sure she will cave in on herself.
Slowly, she eases her bone-weary body out of bed and heads downstairs where she finds Daryl getting his cross-bow in order. She offers to make him something to eat before he heads out and for the first time she notices the way he avoids her eyes. It isn't his usual detached and shy self, but something more.
I know, she tells him simply, pulling out some bread and peanut butter for him to take with him. When she turns around he is already gone.