Chapter 10
By the time she heard that old pickup truck pull into her driveway, Carol had changed clothes about three times. She'd never been the kind of woman to fret over what she was wearing or how she should do her makeup or hair. Thankfully since she'd cut her hair short, all she had to do was get it damp, style it by running her fingers through it to style it with a little gel on her fingers.
She never was much one for makeup, but she did put on a touch. She hadn't worn makeup with Ed, and he never liked her to wear it anyway. He always said it made her look fake. She had made a point over the course of their marriage to subtly do her makeup from time to time to see if he would notice, and he never really did.
It was early fall, but Atlanta still felt like summer, so she opted for a pale blue tank top that showcased her freckled collarbones, and, she had to admit, just a little hint of cleavage. She wore a pair of black Capri pants and found her favorite comfy flats.
She had taken Lucky for an early walk and made sure he was fed and settled down with a new bone to keep him occupied for a few hours.
When her doorbell rang, she jumped even though she knew he was there. Her nerves were a jumbled wreck this morning, and it was all she could do to keep from flying to the front door a panting, sweating mess.
Instead, she managed to calmly walk to the door, and when she opened it up, she came face to face with a freshly-shaven Daryl Dixon who looked about as nervous as she felt.
"Hey," she managed to squeak out cheerfully. "You found me."
"Traffic wasn't too bad this mornin'."
"Good. You wanna come in for a minute? I promise, I'm ready, but I need to throw the laundry in the dryer."
"Sure." He stepped into the foyer, and he looked around. "Nice place."
"Thank you. It's enough for me." She closed the door, and she giggled when Lucky came bounding into the room. He wagged his tail and stood up on his hind legs, begging for Daryl to pick him up. "Sorry about him." Daryl chuckled and picked up the pup, who promptly licked him on the side of the face. "He loves people. Some guard dog, huh?"
"Always wanted a dog like this," Daryl noted, scratching the pup behind the ears. "They're loyal." He put the pup down, and Lucky scampered off to the kitchen. Daryl followed Carol back to the small laundry room behind the kitchen. "You got a lot of room here. You could do a lot with the place."
"Yeah. Maybe someday. There's room if I ever wanted more, you know." She eyed him. "I might get a cat." She grinned, and Daryl felt his face tingle. Shit, she was beautiful.
"I need a bigger place. The kids are kinda takin' over my place. It's big enough, but I think we need to spread out."
"Just wait until Charlie's a teenager. She'll probably need two whole closets for her clothes. Or maybe you'll luck out and she won't be into those things."
"Hope so," he snorted, "but she likes me to brush her hair, and she's already askin' my mom to do her makeup. I'm in trouble, ain't I?"
"I think so," Carol laughed, tossing the load of wet clothes from the washer into the dryer. She started it up and turned toward Daryl. "Ok, I'm ready now."
"You hungry?"
"Mmm, I could eat," she offered. "Did you have breakfast?"
"Between feedin' Jack and makin' Charlie eat her oatmeal, I forgot."
"You forgot to eat?" She quirked an eyebrow.
"It happens sometimes," he admitted. Carol pouted her lips for a moment before she nodded toward the kitchen.
"Follow me."
"What?"
"I'm making you breakfast."
"Ain't I s'posed to do the buyin'?"
"This one's on me," she offered. "But I might let you buy me lunch." She moved to step around Daryl toward the stove, but he caught her wrist in his hand, a bold move in his own mind. He quickly let her go.
"You ain't gotta cook for me," he promised. "I grabbed a granola bar on the way out the door."
"Liar," she laughed. "Besides, something tells me you haven't had a home cooked meal since, what, maybe the last time you visited your mother for dinner?" Daryl glared at her for a moment, before a smile quirked at his lips.
"You don't know me," he snorted.
"Come on. You spend all of your mornings taking care of everybody else," she pointed out. "Let me do this. I like to cook. It helps me relax."
"You nervous?"
"I haven't been on a date in a long time," she admitted.
"This is a date?"
"Well, my hands are shaking, and you shaved, so I'm pretty sure it's a date," she laughed. Daryl chuckled at that.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"You? You want to cook?"
"My mama taught me a thing or two," he insisted.
"Fine," she said with a grin. "You do the eggs. I'll do the bacon. There's a spare apron over there. Wouldn't want you to get grease on your new shirt." Daryl looked down at his shirt and shook his head.
"Is it that obvious?"
"You, uh, missed a sticker." She reached down and pulled a price sticker off of the edge of his shirt.
"Shit," Daryl muttered, palming his face with his hand. "Rookie mistake."
"It's ok. It looks good on you." She gave him a smile and turned toward the fridge to grab what they needed.
...
"Ya really didn't have to do that."
"I didn't. We did. And it turned out good, didn't it?" Carol asked, setting the alarm and locking the front door.
"It was," he offered. "Didn't know bacon could taste so good."
"It's just…bacon. I didn't do anything special," she laughed.
"Hell, growin' up, I was lucky to get a fresh piece of bacon. Merle was usually on his second helping before I got to the table." Carol grinned at that.
"Well, you should see what I can do with a pot roast. It's out of this world," she teased. "See, that was better than going to a smoky diner and waiting on cold food, wasn't it?"
"Your ma teach you to cook?"
"Yeah," Carol said with a warm smile. "We cooked together every weekend morning. My dad always told me I cooked better than my mother, but he swore me to secrecy."
"My ma never had a girl, so I guess I was the one that got stuck learnin' that stuff."
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with a man learning how to cook. Do you know how many women would love to have a guy cook her breakfast in bed? Or how many women would love to come home to find a hot meal ready for them? I mean, 'good cook' is right up there with 'handsome and funny' on the checklist."
"There's a checklist?"
"Oh, there's a checklist. Ask any woman, and she'll deny it though." She winked at him as they walked to the truck. Daryl felt his heart skip a beat. He noticed her pulling the strap of her camera bag up her shoulder a little.
"You want me to carry that?" He reached out for it, but the swing of his hand saw his keys go flying into the bushes.
"Uh, I've got it, thanks," she grinned, as his face flushed red. He quickly reached into the bush to grab his keys where they caught on a small branch, and he opened up the passenger's side door of the big, black pickup truck. "It's big."
"Yeah. Merle wouldn't drive nothin' smaller," Daryl snorted. Carol put her camera bag in first, and she grabbed hold of a small handle by the seat and stepped up. Daryl gently put his hand at her back and helped her up. She smiled her thanks and tugged on her seat belt.
Daryl hopped in and started the truck up. It shimmied and sputtered for a moment before it was purring like a kitten.
The cab was roomy. One could easily pull over on the side of the road and take a nap with their feet sticking out the window with no trouble. The steering wheel was back far enough that Daryl had to reach out to grab it.
"What's one guy need with a truck this big?" Carol asked, peeking over her shoulder into the back of the truck where a couple of tool boxes were covered with a tarp to keep them from rusting in the rain.
"Hell if I know. Figured he'd sell it when Nina got pregnant with Charlie, but he couldn't even part with it. If I can get it fixed up, I might try to sell it." He shrugged. "It didn't break down on the way here, and it's runnin' pretty good. Don't think we're gonna have a problem today. Would've brought my bike as backup if I was worried."
"Don't speak too soon," she laughed.
"Hey, you sayin' you don't trust my skills?"
"Oh, I'm sure you have skills," she replied, not intending for it to sound as suggestive as it did. They both looked at each other for a moment before she laughed nervously. "Just drive, Daryl."
"Yeah, probably a good idea," he snorted. "Which way you wanna go?"
"Seriously?" Carol asked.
"Yeah. Pick a direction. You're navigatin' this. I'm just drivin'."
"Oh," Carol murmured, suddenly feeling very inspired. She bit her lip and thought for a moment before she nodded toward the road. Turn right. At the light down the block, make a left."
"Where we headin'?"
"Anywhere," she said with a smile. "You game?" He stared at her for a moment before throwing the truck in gear. With a nod, he cleared his throat.
"Yeah. I'm game."
...
They drove for nearly two hours, Carol picking the direction, feeling more than a little cautious of where she told him to turn for fear of getting completely turned around. Still, she knew in the back of her mind that GPS was just a few taps away on her phone. Still, what if her service went out? What if the truck really did break down?
She had to take a few deep breaths now and again to calm herself. She kept telling herself to relax, to enjoy, to just embrace the adventure. Every once in a while, he'd look over at her, and she was certain he could see the anxiety building up. So, he'd start talking to her to take her mind off of it. And by the time they turned down a twisting road that was shadowed by thick, overgrown trees, Carol somehow felt more relaxed in the isolation as the sunlight glittered down in small patches through the leaves onto the concrete below.
A small, rusted sign that read Picnic Area with an arrow came into view. Daryl turned down that road, and it wasn't long before they drove up to an old gravel lot grown over with tall grass and weeds. A small lake—small enough that it probably wasn't even considered a lake—spilled out before them, shimmering in the morning sun. An old, rickety pier with a small row boat tied to it creaked in the breeze.
"I wonder what this place is?" Carol murmured, as Daryl cut the engine to the truck. She started to grab for her camera bag but hesitated, looking up at Daryl. She put her hand back in her lap.
"S'alright," he chuckled. "Go on."
"Do you know where we are?" she asked, grabbing the camera and hopping out of the truck.
"Nope. Don't look like nobody's been here for a long while." All that surrounded the water was thick pine forests. Some old, discarded water toys lay in a moldy pile on top of a long-forgotten trash bin next to a couple of bird-shit covered picnic tables.
"Somebody should clean this place up," Carol murmured. "It could be really nice." She bit her bottom lip and slung her camera strap around her neck, tossing the case into the truck. She went about snapping pictures of the tall grass, the old, rickety dock, the little row boat with a broken paddle on the seat.
"Could be a good fishin' place," Daryl pointed out. "Looks like nobody comes around. Probably plenty of fish." He knelt down by the water and cupped a handful of it. He held it up to his nose and sniffed. "Clean, too. Looks like it's just been forgot about."
"That's sad," Carol murmured, snapping a picture of the old trash bin with the discarded and decaying water toys.
"You take pictures of everything?" Daryl asked. Carol hummed softly and shrugged her shoulders.
"I guess it's sentimental, really. I mean, this place? Nobody's been here for a long time. It should be seen. People could have a lot of fun out here.
"You're right. Somebody should fix it up," Daryl said with a nod. "Hey, check this out." He knelt down in the grass. Something had caught his eye, and as he lifted it up, he realized what it was. Carol stepped in closer.
"A ring," Carol murmured. "Somebody's probably been looking for that."
"It's been here a long time," he murmured, scraping dirt off the side to reveal a dull sliver underneath. He heard the shutter click, and he glanced at Carol. "Really?"
"What?" Carol asked. "Look." She showed him the image on the camera screen. It was black and white. The small, dirt-encrusted ring lay in his palm, his own fingers dirty from digging it up. As crazy as it seemed, there was a beauty in the picture.
"Like you said," he muttered, "there's an audience for everything." Carol grinned at that.
"You remembered?" Daryl managed to scrape some more dirt off of the ring. He was certain there were some gem inlays, but he wouldn't know for sure until he got it home and cleaned it. If anything, he could chalk it up to an interesting find, maybe something Charlie might like to wear when she got older.
He heard the shutter click again, and this time, when he looked up, she was pointing the camera up at him.
"Aw, shit."
"Oh, come on. You're very photogenic." She batted her eyelashes at him. He glared at her, and that made her grin even more. She smiled then, and Daryl walked toward her.
"Gimme the camera."
"Hey! No, wait a minute."
"You're always takin' pictures of everybody else. Maybe somebody should take your picture." The grin on his face was full of mischief.
"Don't you dare, Daryl Dixon." She stepped back and Daryl stepped forward. "Please. Come on. That's not fair."
"Delete the picture."
"No!" she laughed.
"Then let me take yours."
"Oh. Fine!" she laughed, passing it over to him. "Just don't break it. That camera's worth more than that old truck of yours."
"Well, that ain't sayin' much," Daryl snorted. Carol laughed again. "How do ya work this damn thing?"
"Point and push the button on top."
"This one?" he asked.
"Yeah," she giggled. He pushed the button, and nothing happened.
"C'mon. Which one?"
"Fine," she sighed, cheeks blushing red. "This one." She tapped the button on the camera, and then she took several steps backward.
"Careful. Don't wanna have to jump in the water after ya."
"I can swim," she assured him.
"Well, I can't, so I ain't fixin' to learn today."
"You? Mr. Outdoors? You don't swim?"
"I learned to hunt, fish. My dad wanted his boys prepared to survive in the wild."
"So you could survive a zombie apocalypse as long as it wasn't on water," Carol teased.
"A what?" Daryl snorted. Carol laughed and then fell backwards onto her butt." "Shit. You ok?"
"I'm good," she laughed, covering her face with her hands. "Just clumsy." She was wiping at her eyes now, and she heard the shutter click. "Did you just…aw, Daryl, come on. I wasn't ready."
"Now we're even," he replied with a grin, snapping another picture of her. She held her hand up to block the camera, but he managed to move back and get another shot of her.
"You ass!" she laughed, getting up and chasing after him. "Give me my damn camera, before I toss you in the water."
"You gonna jump in to save me or the camera?" he asked. He almost tripped himself, but he steadied himself against a picnic table. Carol caught up to him, and she took the camera back from him. For a moment, he thought maybe she was mad. Maybe he'd gone too far. Hell, he was never good with the whole flirting thing. If that was even what he was doing. Shit. She did look mad. She turned and started back for the truck. "Shit. Carol, I didn't break it or nothin' did I?" She spun in her spot, and the shutter clicked again. Then a massive grin spread over her face.
"Oh, that's one to go over the mantle." Her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth, and Daryl's shoulders slumped.
"You got me," he smirked.
"Here, let me put this away. Then we can explore," she offered brightly. He watched her as she headed to the truck to put the camera away. She had a dusty smudge of dirt on her left butt cheek from where she'd fallen, and it was taking everything in him to push down the first thought that came to his mind. Maybe you oughta offer to get that off for her.
He stared a little too long, and when she turned, she narrowed her eyes at him.
"What?" she asked, her face still flushed from laughing.
"Uh, nothin'. You, just…uh. Got somethin' on your…" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, and Carol twisted a little to try to look before quickly swiping her hands over her behind to try to get the dirt off. She turned a little.
"Is it gone?"
She wants me to look? Christ.
"Uh, yeah. Looks good. I mean…you're good." He cleared his throat, and Carol smiled, shutting the truck door and heading back toward him.
"Good," she beamed. "Come on." She nodded toward the trees. "We can take the long way. You're the woodsman, aren't you?"
"Ain't been in these woods," he pointed out.
"Well, there's a first time for everything, right?" she asked, licking her lips in a way that made him think about things he really didn't need to be thinking about when he wasn't in the sweet privacy of his own bedroom.
Clearing his throat, he locked up the truck, and when he turned, she was right there, right in front of him, and his adam's apple bobbed in his throat.
"You ready?" she asked. His mouth went dry.
"Uh-huh," was all he could manage. Carol smiled then, that beautiful smile that made his heart warm. And a moment later, her sweating, shaking hand found his, and they both looked at one another.
"Better stay close," she offered nervously, her smile twitching slightly as she stepped past her own comfort zone.
"Yeah," he agreed, giving her hand a squeeze. "Better safe than sorry." She smiled at that, and he silently thanked whatever higher powers had led him to her. He was just grateful that she was trembling as much as he was. He was more grateful that she had the courage to push herself to take that step.
Her hand felt good in his, and within a few minutes, neither of them were shaking. They fell into a comfortable silence as they stepped into the trees, and he was pretty sure that she held his hand just a little bit tighter. And he liked that just fine.