Author's Note:
Can't tell you what a thrill it is to see people following and favoriting and reviewing! Hehehehe!
Here is the OC, but Daryl won't meet her until a chapter or two later.
Wasn't able to PM back:
Millie-I'm glad you find the story interesting so far. Hope you continue to enjoy what I've got!
Chapter 2-Madison, GA
The alarm clock woke Daryl from his restless slumber. It wasn't anything unusual. He was used to tossing and turning in his sleep. In his dreams, he saw his father taunting him with his belt. He felt the burn as the belt tore into his back. His mother appeared, all burnt up and with smoke still emanating from her corpse. She died in a fire that she caused, by smoking and falling asleep after drinking herself into a stupor. At the time, Daryl couldn't have been more than 8 years old, but it still haunted him to this day.
Throwing the thin blanket off of him, he plodded his way to the shower. Today was the first day of work on the old lady's farm. Patrick's last day wasn't until next week, but she wanted Daryl to start while he was still here so he could ease into the farm's routine and have Patrick show him around.
The hot water relaxed his tense muscles and Daryl relished the comfort. His rigid stance was a by-product of his childhood. Perhaps a way of protecting himself since he never knew when his father's fist would come barreling towards him, or when his father had a few choice words that sought to debase him. Daryl grew up always ready to deflect anything that caused him pain or grief. He had to be ready. It was a matter of survival.
In no time, Daryl arrived at the farmhouse and was surprised to find a young man with black framed glasses opening the door in response to his knock. "You must be Mr. Dixon! I'm Patrick," he exclaimed with eyes wide. He reached out to shake Daryl's hand. Daryl begrudgingly took it and shook it quickly before letting go. "Mrs. Sullivan's in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Come in."
Daryl followed Patrick towards the back of the house, where Mrs. Sullivan was busy frying up bacon strips. He noted the heavenly scent of sizzling bacon and sniffed the air appreciatively, not having had bacon in a while. His stomach impatiently growled, as if in anticipation of the crispy reward that was forthcoming.
"Good morning, Daryl! Make sure you boys wash up before ya'll sit at the table," she instructed. Boys? T'hell? Daryl thought to himself. He was nearly 40 years old.
After washing up, both men sat down at the table and noted the huge spread before them. Patrick was used to it by now, but Daryl was speechless. He hadn't seen so much food at one time. For the three of them, the table was filled with plates of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon. On his right, a large bowl of fruit beckoned. A pitcher of orange juice and a carafe of coffee was also placed at the table. He was annoyed when his stomach grumbled loudly a second time that morning, announcing his hunger. His heart flip-flopped when he saw the old lady coming to the table with a large plate of steaming hot biscuits and a bowl of sausage gravy. He shook his head. Good Lord this old woman's gonna make me fat…..
As soon as Mrs. Sullivan set the plate and gravy down, Patrick's hand shot out to grab a fresh biscuit. A glare topped with one raised eyebrow aimed in his direction stopped him cold in his tracks and his hand meekly returned back to his lap. Daryl almost smirked at him. Even HE knew enough not to reach like that.
She sat down at the head of the rectangular dining table, with Daryl on her left and Patrick on her right, and lifted her hands towards the men. "Let us say Grace for this fine meal, shall we?" she asked. After they all joined hands and bowed their heads, Mrs. Sullivan began, "Dear Lord, we thank You for this food that You have graciously provided for us…" Daryl rolled his eyes. Where was the Lord when me and Merle needed Him? My Pa sure as hell didn't do any providin'. He was careful to keep his head bowed and kept his face hidden behind his shaggy bangs. For some reason, he didn't want Mrs. Sullivan to see him being disrespectful. He had a feeling she probably wouldn't hesitate to take a wooden spoon to his backside. Those southern grandmothers can be scary.
The first day on the farm zipped right by. There was so much to do, Daryl didn't have time to be bored. He went from one task to another. Soon, Mrs. Sullivan rang the dinner bell hanging on the back porch. Patrick put away what he was working on and stood up straight, cracking his back and sighing in satisfaction.
Daryl copied the same actions. He felt the stiffness in his back from all the heavy lifting. Shit, Imma gettin' ta be an old man, he mused. He made his way towards the main house, right behind Patrick, for supper, sitting at the table after they washed up.
He saw the old lady had brought out ham sandwiches, potato chips, and tomato soup from scratch. He dug into his food as soon as she finished Grace. Washing down his meal with the last few sips of sweet tea, Daryl nodded his thanks to Mrs. Sullivan and got up from the table. He and Patrick helped carry the dirty dishes into the kitchen.
"Thank you, boys. You can set them on the counter by the sink," Mrs. Sullivan directed.
Daryl walked over to the sink area and gently placed the stack of dishes next to the sink. He couldn't help but gawk at the kitchen. Huh, old lady's gotta fancy-ass kitchen, he thought to himself, as he took in the cream, black, and brown tones of the granite counters and matching backsplash. The cabinets, which were a deep walnut or mahogany, complemented the granite. Shiny stainless steel appliances shimmered in the remaining sunlight that came through the kitchen window.
Mrs. Sullivan noticed Daryl taking in the view and commented, "My granddaughters felt that I needed to update the kitchen," she chuckled. "I guess it was time. The house had the original cabinetry, which was falling apart and the old refrigerator broke down." She added, "I miss the old kitchen, but I really do love the new one. There's much more room for storage and plenty of space."
After having supper, which was so much lighter than breakfast and lunch, Daryl got his keys out of his pocket. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mrs. Sullivan walking towards him with several paper plates covered with aluminum foil. He was confused. "What's this fer?"
"Everybody gets a doggie bag or two, Daryl," she answered. "I'm one old woman. How on earth can I eat all these leftovers?" she asked innocently, with wide eyes.
He looked over at Patrick, who was greedily clutching his own plates and grinning like a fool. "There's some of that blackberry cobbler from lunch!"
"Now you take these leftovers with you, Daryl. The Good Lord does not want His bounty to go to waste, you hear?"
"S'ma'am, "Daryl replied, looking at the ground. Reluctantly, Daryl took the food with him, thanking Mrs. Sullivan on the way out to his truck. Nobody ever cared whether or not he had food before. Daryl wasn't quite sure what to make of that gesture. Truth be told, he didn't have much at home and he wasn't looking forward to another peanut butter sandwich to take to work tomorrow. Secretly, he was glad the old lady had leftovers for him, but he'd never admit it to anyone.
Through the front window, Mrs. Sullivan watched them leave. She wasn't sure at first if Daryl would take the food. She had a feeling he would not accept charity or pity from anybody. He's too skinny, she thought, with a heavy heart. She was relieved that he did not refuse her offer. Mrs. Sullivan almost giggled out loud when he fell for her I'm-just-one-old-woman-what-can-I-do act. It was the only thing that would allow him to accept the food.
The sound of a ringing phone pulled her away from the window.
"Hello?"
"Gran? It's Livy. Is this a good time?"
"Why yes, dear," Mrs. Sullivan replied with a large smile. She always had time for her granddaughters. "Tell me what's new with you. How are you and your sisters and little Mikayla?"
Mrs. Sullivan loved her granddaughters dearly, but there seemed to be a special place in her heart for her great-granddaughter.
"Everything is good, Gran. Sammy bought a new house and the family is settling in. She tells me Mika loves the new backyard and runs around giggling to herself. Adam thinks the new house would be better suited, especially since they want to add to their family."
Mrs. Sullivan was delighted with the prospect of another great-grandchild.
"Nessie has a new boyfriend, Chris. They seem happy together. He's very nice. They're going on a mission to Kenya in October. I heard it's going be nine months this time. Ob/gyns are always in demand, especially third world countries," Olivia added.
"I got four new patients today, one of which is a Great Dane!" Olivia continued, "She's still a puppy but she looks like a miniature pony to me."
Mrs. Sullivan gave a hearty laugh.
"Are you still with Evan?"
Olivia flushed. "Yes, Gran." She knew how her grandmother felt about her new boyfriend.
In February, the girls flew in for their grandmother's birthday, surprising her. Olivia had brought Evan with her. Though they had only been together for about a month, she thought it was important for him to meet Gran.
Mrs. Sullivan loved practically everybody, but for some reason, she did not care for the young man who was with Olivia. Something did not feel right. "You be careful now, dear, you hear?"
"Yes, Gran, she sighed.
The two women spent the next hour gossiping and reminiscing, until Mrs. Sullivan yawned and decided it was time to turn in.
1 Month Later
Daryl stood up straight and plucked the red rag from his back pocket to wipe the sweat off his brow. Damn, must be the hottest spring we had. The fires 'a hell are burnin' right here in Georgia. He felt a bead of sweat drip down his back, under his sleeveless shirt.
Hearing soft footsteps, he looked up and saw the old woman heading towards him. She had on her rubber gardening boots and a big floppy sunhat that had a pink ribbon tied under her chin. "It's important to stay hydrated in this heat, Daryl." Mrs. Sullivan added, "Otherwise, you might just collapse." She handed him the glass of sweet tea she was holding in her hand.
He nodded his thanks as he took the glass and downed it in one long gulp. "You should come in whenever you get too hot and grab something cold from the refrigerator, you hear?" She instructed.
He replied, eyes peeping out from under his bangs, "S'ma'am."
She nodded. "Your body will tell you when it needs you to stop and take a break." Mrs. Sullivan smiled and took the empty glass from him and walked back up to the house.
During the afternoon, a delivery truck pulled up to the house. Mrs. Sullivan opened the back door for the delivery men to bring in the new washer and dryer. When her granddaughters heard about the old washing machine breaking down, they bought a new set for her and were having it delivered. They did not have to do that, but the girls wanted to be sure their grandmother had what she needed.
After the men were finished setting up the new appliances, they were thanked and Mrs. Sullivan provided a tip for their service. They even took away the old set when they left, which was a big help.
Daryl found her in the kitchen, reading the instruction book when he came in to grab a glass of cold water. He walked over to the mudroom, which was right by the kitchen, to admire the new appliances. The washer and dryer were deep red in color and each were perched on top of an extra piece that gave additional height. The bottom piece also had a drawer for storage. Each appliance had a large, round glass door that swung out. Daryl had seen similar designs like this at the local Sears, so he knew these were the new high-efficiency machines. The Laundromat near his house did not have these newer models.
"Can you believe all this new-fangled technology nowadays, Daryl? Back in the day, I remember using my momma's washboard to get clothes clean. Now look at us," Mrs. Sullivan exclaimed as she was still perusing the instruction manual that came with the machines. "There's a little computer inside these machines!"
"It's a new world these days," he replied.
3 Months Later
Daryl drove out to Lake Oswald with a scowl. He didn't know why he agreed to go to the company picnic/BBQ. On every July 4th, the garage was closed for the holiday and Dale had a party for his employees and their families. He didn't plan on going, but Dale asked him to join everyone, and before he knew it, Clinton and George got in on it too.
Fuck. He hated parties. People always made small talk with you.
Merle's ass was still stuck in the county jail. Maybe Daryl just didn't feel like being alone.
With a sigh, Daryl pulled up to the area that had a sign for Dale's Auto and parked next to Luke's red truck. Luke was part-time like Daryl. Usually he worked when Daryl was not scheduled that day, unless Clinton or George were off.
After stepping out of the truck and shutting the door, Daryl went to the back and opening the cooler, grabbed the 2 pies that that Mrs. Sullivan gave him to bring to the BBQ. She had her own plans with the ladies from church. When she heard about the party, she wanted to give the boys and their families something to enjoy for dessert. Mrs. Sullivan sure can bake.
He walked up to where everyone was.
Dale had on an apron that had 'King of the Grill' printed on the front and his usual fishermen's hat. He was talking to Irma, his wife, as he flipped the hamburger patties over. She saw him and smiled brightly, "Daryl, it's so good to see you out here with us. Sometimes it's nice to see your co-workers in a different light, away from all that work stress. Got to have fun!"
Daryl nodded in reply. "S'ma'am."
Dale noticed the pies and his eyes lit up in delight. "Did Mrs. Sullivan make those? Thank you for bringing them, and make sure to tell her we thank her as well."
Daryl nodded and grunted. "Apple 'n cherry."
He made his way to the picnic table, where Clinton and George were. He put down the pies that he had in his arms.
"Whoa Dixon, whaddya got there?" Clinton asked curiously. Rosita, his wife, came over with their two children to see what Daryl brought.
"Hi Daryl," she greeted warmly. "It's good to see you again. I only get to see you when I bring Clinton the lunch that he forgets at home," she said, looking at Clinton pointedly.
Daryl nodded.
"Kids, what do you say?" she reminded her children.
"Hi, Mr. Dixon." "Hiiiiii."
Daryl looked down. He was always more at ease with kids than adults. Kids were honest with you, while adults tended to have ulterior motives. The older child, the girl, was looking up at him with curiosity and interest. The younger toddler, who was still in diapers, was flapping his arm at him, trying to wave.
Daryl squatted, to be able to look them in the eyes. "Hi. You kids havin' fun?"
"Yeaaaah." The girl nodded, answering with a big grin, for herself and her brother, before giggling and both of them running away to play with the other children.
Daryl stood up, answering Clinton's previous question. "Mrs. Sullivan made some pies fer us, apple 'n cherry."
After about an hour, Daryl found himself sitting on the bench with the guys from the garage. Daryl inhaled the last bit of his cigarette before snuffing it out under his boot, while George and Clinton went into their pockets and pulled out a new one to light up. Luke didn't like smoking so he sat a little farther from everyone.
Daryl stood up to leave and muttered to the group, "Gonna head out now, see ya tomorrow." He nodded towards Luke who waved.
Walking over to his truck, Daryl opened the door and sat, closing the door with a soft thunk. He turned the ignition and started the drive home, thinking over what transpired that night.
He had a better time than he expected to have. Hell, it beat sitting home in front of the TV with a bowl of instant noodles. Nobody grabbed him for long, extended conversations so that worked out well. Dale was a generous host, offering hamburgers, hot dogs, chicken wings, macaroni and potato salad, beer and sodas, and 3 different kinds of chips. And to finish it all off, he had an assortment of brownies and a large red, white, and blue frosted sheet cake for dessert.
After closing and locking his front door, Daryl made his way over to his bedroom, toed off his boots and undressed. He jumped into the shower to clean himself off, since it was a hot night and his skin was sweaty.
He opened his drawer and pulled out a fresh pair of boxers, and a wife beater, and dressed quickly. Daryl set his alarm and slid under the blanket, and fell asleep, his mind still thinking over the events of party.
2 Months Later
Autumn was probably Daryl's favorite season. The leaves changed from mundane shades of green into radiant tones of red, yellow, and orange. The oppressive heat was gone and all that was left was a delightful coolness in the air, without it being too cold.
One winter, he remembered being 6 years old and shaking uncontrollably under his worn blanket. His father had taken the thicker comforter for himself, leaving him and Merle to share the dirty, old blanket.
Daryl huffed and tossed the remainder of the cigarette he had between his lips and snuffed it out with his heavy boot, making sure it was done on the dirt and not anywhere near flammable grass or plants. Pushing himself off the wall of the stable, he started in the direction of the farmhouse for lunch.
He also remembered that today was his birthday, not that it mattered to anyone. It was just another day. The other kids he grew up with had birthday parties. They weren't anything fancy, what with cake and pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, and kegs of beer for the grownups, but at least it was something. His parents never once acknowledged or celebrated. September 21 was just an ordinary day.
He recalled with a small smirk, when he was 9 years old, the "birthday cake" Merle got for him. The Dixon boys were out in the woods and Merle presented him with a mud cake he made out of the mud that collected after the heavy rain from the day before, and leaves that covered it like frosting. It even had 9 short sticks like candles stuck in the top. As much of a pain in the ass he was, Merle was the best brother he could have.
When Daryl walked into the kitchen through the back door, he detected an unfamiliar scent, though it smelled heavenly. He stood at the doorway after closing the screen door and letting the back door shut behind him. There, he remained. Rooted to his spot.
Mrs. Sullivan looked up and smiled. "Oh, Daryl! I didn't expect you to be finished so soon." She exclaimed. "You must be really hungry then."
His eyes took in what she was doing. In front of her, on a white glass pedestal cake stand, was a tall cake that was patiently awaiting the next dollop of rich chocolate frosting. Mrs. Sullivan stood at the counter and continued to artfully spread the frosting into peaks and swirls, humming while she worked.
Daryl swallowed thickly. All his life, he had endured endless jabs and suffered ridicule. He learned long ago not to have hope. So when things don't happen the way you wanted, then the disappointment won't hurt you.
"This is what's for dessert, Daryl. Birthday cake!" She looked at him. "Today's your birthday. Goodness gracious, did you forget?" She grinned and gave an unrestrained laugh.
"You mentioned a few days ago that it was today."
Daryl was utterly and completely speechless, as he stood in the same spot, chewing on his thumb. He was afraid of speaking, that he would lose his voice.
Author's Note:
Ever since I saw that Superbowl commercial with Daryl Dixon, I knew I had to include a part of it in my fanfic. When a lady scolds Daryl for making a mess (killing zombies) after she just cleaned her house, he stands there looking sheepish. And she leaves, telling him to clean up this mess. He gives her a shy look and says, "S'ma'am."