A Cry in the Thunder
Chapter 11
The baby's cries woke her, and she blinked into the darkness of the early morning, sitting up and tossing the quilt off as the cool air blanketed her. She shivered, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and sitting for a moment to let herself wake up a little more before attempting to get to the baby.
Grabbing her robe, she threw it on and felt for the box of matches on her bedside table. Within a few moments, the warm glow of the oil lamp filled the room. She carefully stepped over a fallen pillow on the floor to pick up Elijah from his bed.
"Hey, buddy," she whispered, holding him close. His little feet were pumping the air, and his head lolled forward, bumping into her shoulder. "Hey, what's the matter? Hmm? What's the matter?" She kissed the top of his head and patted his back. "Are you hungry? Hmm? Are you wet?" She felt his diaper, finding it to be only a little damp, but she went ahead and changed him anyway. With a frown, she cradled him close, now fearing he'd wake the entire household up. So she eased back down onto her bed and unbuttoned the first few buttons on the flannel night shirt, quickly giving the baby access to a breast to nurse.
He pumped his little hands against her skin as he suckled hungrily, and she gently stroked his hair, running her fingers over the fine hairs that still remained on his baby skin, over his ears and on his forehead.
"Mama loves you," she cooed, rocking him back and forth on the bed. She heard the rap on the door only a moment before the door creaked open, and she glanced up to see the Daryl silhouetted by the candle light
"Everything ok?" he asked, suddenly dropping his gaze to the floor the second he saw that she was nursing the baby.
"Everything's fine," she said quietly. "I'm sorry he woke you."
"Uh, it's fine," he said with a shake of his head. "You run outta formula?"
"No," Carol said with a shake of her head. "He likes to nurse when he's unsettled."
"It's like a damn fridge in here." He rubbed his hands together. "No wonder he was squallin' like that."
"I didn't think it'd get so cold tonight," Carol murmured, tucking her feet under the quilt.
"C'mon," he said after a minute.
"What?"
"Come downstairs. I can build a fire, we can all sleep down there. This rate, we'll all freeze to death by mornin'."
"What about the baby?"
"Bassinet's downstairs. He ain't outgrown it yet, has he?"
"Almost," Carol chuckled. "He eats like a champ."
"Yeah, I see that," he blurted out, before his face turned red. He was thankful for the dim light, because when Carol smiled at him, his face heated even more.
"Alright," she whispered, edging up from the bed and moving across the room.
"You got 'im?" he asked, putting a hand against the small of her back as they started down the stairs.
"Yeah," she promised. "I've got him." When they were safely downstairs, Daryl headed back up, and he soon returned with Sophia, putting her in the recliner while he laid out a pillow for Carol on the couch. "Where are you gonna sleep?"
"I ain't too good for the floor."
"Daryl…"
"S'alright." He moved toward the hearth and stooped down, sparking a match and tossing it in, adding a few crumpled newspapers for good measure. Before long, the fire in the hearth was blazing and warm, and the baby had fallen back to sleep. Carol had quickly put the baby down in the bassinet and buttoned her top before snuggling onto the couch under a blanket. "Shit. Probably an inch of snow on the ground out there, and it's still comin' down."
Brody came padding into the living room, curling up on the floor next to Sophia, and Carol got up to go peek out the window with Daryl.
"Oh God," Carol murmured. "It's coming down fast. What time do you think it is?"
"Just after four. Maybe closer to five, I'd figure."
"I should go see if Merle needs another blanket," Carol offered.
"I'll check on him," Daryl said with a shake of his head. Carol settled back on the couch, watching Daryl as he headed up the stairs. She listened as the floorboards overhead creaked with each step. She listened to the rapping of knuckles against the oak bedroom door. She heard him call out. Then silence. Soon, he retreated back down the stairs and settled down on the floor, leaning his head back against the couch cushion next to where Carol rested.
"He ok?"
"Locked his door. Ain't a sound comin' from in there. Serves him right if he freezes to death."
"Daryl," she scolded softly, absently running her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes, relishing the soothing touch.
"I'll check on him in the mornin'. Maybe we'll go huntin' or somethin'. He ain't used to bein' cooped up in the house anymore. Hell, he used to drive Andrea crazy always wantin' to go out and do somethin'." He rubbed his hand over his face, and the couch creaked as Carol sat up and scooted down to sit next to him on the floor. He tensed for a moment, until she wrapped one arm around his waist and snuggled against him for warmth. He grabbed the blanket off of the couch and draped it over both of them, and he pulled his arm around her waist, feeling her soft warmth under his hand. "Couch'd be more comfortable."
"I'm fine right here," she promised. Daryl turned then to look at her, to see the way the shadows from the fire danced across her soft, pale skin. The sparks that flickered from the tongued flames sparkled in her mesmerizing blue eyes. He could taste the words on this tongue, but he'd never been good with those before. He'd never been good at any of this. But she made him want to try. She made him feel these things he never expected. And when he pressed his lips to hers, it wasn't some spark, some tremor that felt like the world would open and swallow him whole. It was real and honest, and his hands shook as she opened up to him, and his heart beat wild beneath his chest.
She sighed against his mouth, her breath warm and sweet, and she trembled as his hand moved down her spine and then up again, curling into her hair. He pulled back then, and she smiled at him, brushing her thumb over his lower lip.
"You ok?" she asked thoughtfully, grazing her finger along the edge of his jaw.
"I'm alright," he said quietly. "Probably should ask you the same thing."
"I'm good," she promised. "Better than I've been in a long time, if you can believe that. My kids are safe. Healthy." She sighed, moving her hand down to curl her fingers with his. "I always thought I'd never escape him. Either I'd grow old and die with him, or he'd kill me. I never expected the end of the world or whatever this is. I never expected him to go first. I just thought I was stuck." She let out a slow, even breath. "I'm not stuck anymore. I'm free." She gently put her hand to his cheek and leaned in, kissing him softly. And then she closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder, and Daryl held her for the longest time, listening to the sound of her breathing. And before too long, he was sound asleep as the snow continued to blanket the earth outside.
...
Daryl startled awake at Brody's whining at the door. The fire was still going in the hearth, though it had diminished considerably. Daryl groaned, sitting up stiffly and leaning over to check on Carol who lay sleeping at his side with her face buried against a pillow. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of her with her messy hair, and he gently brushed a few strands back, getting a little smile out of her as his touch roused her from her sleep.
"Mornin'," he murmured. "Dog wants out."
"M'kay," she murmured sleepily. "Five more minutes." Daryl got up then, doubling over his half of the blanket onto her to keep her warmer. He crossed the room and added another few logs to the fire, flinching as the flames snapped and sparked as they began to consume the kindling.
He stretched, rubbing his hand over his scratchy chin before he moved over to the bassinet to check on the baby.
"Mornin', Squirt," he murmured, tucking the baby's foot back into the swaddling blanket. The baby grunted in his sleep, and Daryl yawned, turning his attention over to Sophia, who was curled up under a blanket on the couch in the exact position she'd been in when he'd carried her down and placed her there the night before.
The house was quiet, and the only sound to be heard were the crackling of the flames and the creaking of the house as the wind whipped against it and shook the windowpanes. The moment he peeked out the window, it wasn't the fresh blanket of snow or the snow that continued to fall with no sign of stopping that caught his attention. It was the fresh tracks and the very obvious absence of Merle's truck that had him floored.
"What the hell?" he grumbled, as Carol stirred from her spot on the floor.
"What's wrong?" she asked, sitting up and adjusting her sleep shirt.
"Merle's truck's gone."
"What?!"
"Damn it," he spat, rushing from the room and hurrying up the stairs two at a time only to find Merle's bedroom door wide open, bed freshly made and a crumpled piece of paper placed on the pillow.
He slammed his hand against the door frame before he crossed the room in three quick strides, picking up the paper that was folded over with his name written on the front. He felt a pull in his gut as he looked down at his brother's scribbled handwriting, and he prepared himself for the worst. This was Merle leaving.
He sat down on the edge of the small bed and unfolded the paper his brother had left for him. He felt tears sting his eyes and burn the back of his throat as he thought back to the last conversation he'd really had with him. Bracing himself, he unfolded the note and found the words scrawled across the paper.
Don't make the same mistake I did. Don't you lose them, baby brother.