"In the end that was the choice you made, and it doesn't matter how hard it was to make it. It matters that you did."
― Cassandra Clare, City of Glass
Ms. Mabel had her one good foot hovering over the green blades of grass, while her sturdy leg remained on the gravel road that separated her property from Ms. Ella's.
Ms. Ella came rushing out of the house, "Aah..Aah..Aah. Don't you dare step on my property, Ms. Mabel. Don't you dare."
"Bring her out that house and let me see her. I want to see her." Ms. Mabel put her foot back down on the gravel road.
"You never rest do you?" Ms. Ella accused.
"You the one conjuring up ghost, not me." Ms. Mabel straightened her wig that became more crooked as she became slightly agitated.
"I don't conjure. I pray."
"Hmph. That ain't what I've been told. Bring that gal out or I swear I will fall again on your uneven steps over there."
"I'm so tired of you, Ms. Mabel." Ms. Ella waved off Ms. Mabel as she walked back to her house to ensure Ms. Mabel who was 75 years old and still sprite didn't make it to her steps to sue her again.
"I'm tired of you, Ms. Ella! Hmph!"
The church was in unison with gasp throughout as Michonne stood with her body defying her and the water pooling at her feet with specks of blood. She was crying, "Rick!"
Lori collapses the moment Rick took one step than two than three...
"Boy do you look like my baby girl. I had her late in life you know." Ms. Mabel got her wish to see the stranger up close inside her run down manufactured home. "Who's your kin folks?"
"What do you mean?" Michonne stood inside the entry way of Ms. Mabel's home. A large Crucifixion was on the wall.
"What's your name child? Your family name? Who's your family?" Ms. Mabel eyes were milky but intense.
"Michonne Ben,"
"You sho look like my baby girl. Sit. Sit and talk to me now. What you doing over at Ms. Ellas house?"
"Well," Michonne sat down in the front room on a sofa that had seen its better days.
"I don't know why Ms. Ella think she's doin God's work. My God ain't got nothing to do with what she says is his work...She use to be some kinda hellion. Kept her son from my baby girl. She use to whip him something terrible. Something terrible, I tell ya. She thinks she better because she's two years younger. Boy do you look like my baby girl. Who's your people?" Ms. Mabel began rocking back and forth in the rocking chair.
"My people..."
"I sure miss her husband, he was a good man, fair."
"Who's husband?"
"Ms. Ella's husband. He was fair. He didn't care that his son was with my daughter. He tried to talk sense into that hellion. She's a witch, you know. So, who's your family? Your kin from here?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Boy do you look like my baby girl."
Daryl shoved Rick, "Prove that you love her you fool. Suzanne is all dressed up to go to the dance. She's waiting and you planning on taking Lori all because your mother told you so?"
"It's too late. Lori is..."
"I told Suzanne to forget you."
"Just stay out of it."
"You are a fucking coward."
"I am not a coward." Rick stared right back at Daryl. Chest just as puffed as Daryl's.
"Just admit you don't love Suzanne. Because I plan to take care of that baby she having like it's mine and I swear I will kill you if you come around changing your mind. I will kill you." Daryl threatened.
Michonne pounded the steering wheel when her car would not start. The air conditioning in the trailer went out. She was frustrated and began to cry. The cruiser pulls up behind her car that was stalled in Ms. Ella's driveway.
Rick opens her driver side door, "What's going on Michonne? Why are you sitting in a hot car? You know you don't like the heat."
"Just let me die, ok."
"I can't do that. Andre would be upset if he knew I did something like that. I would be upset." Rick admitted with out hesitation.
"My car won't start. The AC doesn't work in the trailer and I'm pregnant."
"We can have Daryl take a look at the car. I can check out the AC when I get off my shift tonight and...wait...what?"
"I'm pregnant."
Silence.
"Are you going to say anything?" Michonne asked.
"What are we going to do?" Rick asked.
"We?"
"Well, you didn't get pregnant by yourself."
Suzanne stood on the back porch of her home with Rick sitting on the top step.
"Where you think I can get that kind of money?"
"You don't want to marry me."
"I never said that Suzanne."
"You never said yes either."
"How am I suppose to take care of you and a baby?"
"I need two hundred and fifty dollars Rick." Suzanne walked back in the house quietly closing the door behind her. Two weeks passed and Rick still didn't know how he was going to get his hands on that kind of money.
In the meantime, Daryl waited for his Dad to pass out from the consumption of corn whiskey before he could go undetected and leaf through the shoe box for two hundred and fifty dollars. By the time he made it to Suzanne her home was on fire and Ms. Mabel on the lawn screaming for her baby girl.
Suzanne never knew that someone was going to come through for her. She took a candle into her room and took matters in her own hands and got a wired clothes hanger. She burned the tip. Waited for it to cool. It wasn't the actual fire that killed Suzanne even though that was the running story but she had bled to death. She passed out and knocked over the candle. She was badly burned but it wasn't the fire that killed her. This version was known by the Morgue, Ms. Mabel and Daryl. She was cremated and Daryl stole the urn with the ashes from Ms. Mabel the very next day.
Pastor Gabriel stood in the front of the church ready to bring the choir to song if Lori was about to expose too much. He gave Rick the look he would give if they were in their younger years out on the basketball court trying figure out if the ball was going to be easily retrieved or thrown and if so will a point be made in the final seconds.
Daryl noticed that Rick was finally making a move, one step, two steps, three steps more..
Lori was collapsing and Ricks one step, two steps, three steps more wasn't lost on Pastor Gabriel or Daryl for they both knew where Rick was going. In that moment Rick had made his choice.
AN: The Fog Above The Trees is such a heavy story to write. I have had to walk away from it and then come back. I think warnings take a way from the experience.