AN: Here we go, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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For weeks, things went on in a steady and repetitive manner that was soothing to Carol. She woke in the mornings, tended the chickens and milked the cows before Daryl woke, and she prepared his breakfast with enough left over for his lunch before she put some breakfast aside for Toby and Shadow and tossed the scraps in a bucket for Daryl to feed to the pigs. Miss Jo always arrived just after Daryl stepped outside to start whatever work he had in waiting, and Carol rode to town in the company of the old woman and her daughter.
When school let out, Miss Jo was always there with the wagon, waiting on Carol and Beth to be ready for the short journey home. Some days they went into town, but most days they headed straight for home to get supper on the table at both their houses.
All the while, Carol felt like she was constantly aware that somewhere, down deep inside of her, she was busy. She was the busiest that she'd ever been, even if her hands knew nothing of her activity. She was preparing a life—even if she sometimes felt the life was more of a fairytale than a reality. Some nights, in fact, the feeling that it might not even be real got a little overwhelming for her and she tried to calm her mind by busying her hands with tasks like preparing diapers in the manner that Miss Jo had shown her or trying to work clothes from a tiny pattern that the old woman had provided her.
The sickness that Miss Jo had told her might take over her, never had. Carol felt generally well as long as she remained calm and focused on whatever tasks she assigned herself. If she let herself grow anxious, she would feel like she was going to be sick, so she let it serve as a reminder that she'd let herself get too idle and her thoughts were overtaking her. Pushing them out, she could usually manage to push out most of her discomfort.
The only changes, perhaps, that Carol was noticing to her life was that she was feeling a great deal more worn down by everything that she did. Her efforts to stay busy kept her hands and her mind from feeling idle, but they also exhausted her. When she slept, she slept solidly. So much so, in fact, that Daryl had helped to wake her a few days to make sure she got ready in time to meet Miss Jo. Carol tried, though, to make sure that he didn't have to do that because it seemed to make him worry.
At least, that's what Carol assumed was making him worry. He hadn't talked to her much about his concern, but he wore it clearly enough. When Carol pressed him about talking to her, he always insisted that he was fine and all was well, but she knew him well enough to know that maybe he wasn't as fine as he pretended to be.
One evening, after supper, Carol sat on the porch and, by lamplight, patched up a shirt that Daryl had torn while working. Daryl sat a few feet away, smoking his tobacco and looking out at nothing—clearly lost in his thoughts. At their feet, Toby and Shadow slept together and kept watch over them, even though lately the most they'd had to run off from the farm was a troubling fox that had threatened to bother the chickens and had ended up as part of the animals' supper.
Carol didn't stop her work entirely, but she slowed it enough to focus on her words. She slowed it enough to keep stealing glances at Daryl out of the corner of her eye to judge his reactions.
"Seen Mary Williams in town today," Carol said. "We had to go by the hardware. Hershel needed nails and Miss Jo was pickin' 'em up for him."
Daryl hummed at her. He tapped his foot, letting Carol know that she'd broken whatever spell his thoughts had over him and brought him back to their porch from wherever he was off drifting.
"Next time you in," Daryl said, "you might ask if they ain't got some penny nails. Gettin' that wood cut this week and—I don't wanna hold off on makin' it into somethin' 'til it ain't fit to work. Got big ones, but I need the small ones. Nailin' furniture ain't like puttin' up a barn."
Carol nodded her head to herself.
"I'll ask Miss Jo tomorrow if we can step in," Carol said.
Daryl hummed his approval of the plan.
"You buildin'—the crib?" Carol asked.
"Among other things," Daryl said. He yawned dramatically. The yawn was probably sincere, but Daryl had apparently figured that as long as he was going to do it, he might as well do it as grandly as he could. He'd put a little effort behind the yawn that he didn't have to. He scrubbed at his face in response to it.
"The rocker?" Carol asked.
Daryl hummed.
"Couple of 'em. For out here and in there. Hershel says he reckons he could help me with it," Daryl said. "If he can't? Newt does 'em all the time. He'll sure be able to help. Gotta help build a hope chest for Hershel's youngest daughter. The one what's runnin' back an' forth with you?"
"Beth?" Carol asked.
Daryl hummed.
"He asked me if—if I'd help him with it and I ain't in no place to tell him I won't," Daryl said. "Not after all he's put aside to do for me when I asked it."
"She gettin' married after all?" Carol asked. "She didn't say and Miss Jo didn't either."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Not exactly. Not tomorrow," Daryl said. "He ain't even asked yet. But Hershel figures he's got a mind to do it and, if he don't, somebody will. She ain't got a chest and Hershel figures it's about time she got one to start preparing it."
Carol licked her lips and nodded her head.
"If our baby's a girl, Daryl, will you make a chest for her?" Carol asked. "So she's got somethin' to take into her marriage?"
Daryl hummed.
"If it's a girl, I reckon I will," Daryl said. "You might buy hinges while you at the hardware."
"I'll get them tomorrow," Carol said. "When I'm gettin' the nails, Daryl."
"Don't need 'em tomorrow," Daryl said. "But that'll be fine. They'll keep."
"I was sayin' that I seen Mary Williams in town today," Carol said. "At the hardware."
"Don't know her," Daryl said quickly.
"You do," Carol said. "Handsome woman. Her husband works at the livery. Charlie Williams? You know her, Daryl. I know you do."
"Well—if you say I know her," Daryl said, "then I reckon I do. Don't know what good it does me to know her, though."
"She and Charlie are expecting a child, Daryl," Carol said.
Daryl glanced at Carol and then turned his attention to rolling himself another cigarette from his tobacco pouch.
"Must be in the water," Daryl mused.
"She's heavy," Carol said.
"I hear it happens that way," Daryl said with a snort, not looking up from the task he'd given himself.
"She said she's got four more months to run, give or take, before the little one comes into the world," Carol said.
"Ain't Charlie got kids?" Daryl asked. "Like—a lot of 'em? If he's the one I'm thinkin' he is—ain't he got like seven of 'em? All of 'em toe heads."
Carol nodded her head.
"Six or seven," Carol said.
"Then I reckon she'd know," Daryl said. "If she says she's got about four more months before she's set to drop this one...it ain't the first time she's ever figured it before."
"I'm not heavy," Carol said.
Daryl looked at her like he was examining her. He looked at her, for just a second, like he hadn't seen her and didn't know what she looked like. Carol almost felt like shrinking into her chair from the sudden intensity of his gaze. Then he returned to his cigarette and his eyes remained there until he licked it sealed and lit it, placing it between his lips.
"You heavier'n you were," he mused.
"But I'm not heavy like she was," Carol said.
"An' ya ain't her," Daryl said around his cigarette. He shrugged his shoulders. "Do it matter?"
"What if—Daryl I know this is strange to say but—what if there ain't really no baby?" Carol asked. She swallowed a few times in rapid succession. She felt a wave of nausea hit her and she knew it was her own doing. She swallowed it back because it wasn't going away and it wasn't likely to go away until the conversation was done—the whole of it—and all her concerns had been put to bed.
Daryl looked at her and furrowed his brows.
"You think it got shook loose?" Daryl asked.
Carol shook her head.
"It's not like that," Carol said.
"Then if it was there, and it ain't gone nowhere, it's still there," Daryl said. "At least—that's my understandin' of things. Things that's there and don't get gone, is still there. It's just as—just as ridiculous as sayin' what if they ain't no barn there, Carol, when you know good an' well there's a barn there 'cause it ain't burned to the ground."
"It's a baby, not a barn, Daryl," Carol said. "And you can see the barn."
Daryl laughed quietly to himself.
"Not when it gets so dark, you can't," Daryl said. "Not from this porch. But the barn's still there whether I see it or not. I close my eyes? Can't see shit. But I know it's still there. Didn't go away just 'cause I closed my eyes. You think there ain't no baby, Carol? 'Cause you'd be the one to know."
"I don't think there isn't," Carol said. "But I don't feel like I know that there is."
"Doc said there was," Daryl said.
"And that was a month ago, easy," Carol said. "But I don't know that I see any proof."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Was you who told me that it don't work that way," Daryl said. "That you can't see the proof from the word go. And now you tellin' me that it gives you 'cause to fret?"
Carol sighed.
"I'm just impatient, I guess," Carol said. "Miss Jo said—I'd feel sick. I'm hardly ever feelin' sick."
"First damn time I knowed someone to complain about not bein' poorly," Daryl said.
"I'm not complaining," Carol said. "I'm just—how do I know?"
"You just know," Daryl said. "Same as I knowed you would marry me. Turned out to be right. Besides—you heavier'n you was. Your tits is heavier. You lookin' like you ain't a skipped a meal in a while. Reckon it's just takin' its time."
"It's just been on my mind," Carol said.
"Don't worry it," Daryl said. "Like worryin' a splinter that'cha can't get out, Carol. You gonna make it fester or something. You gotta just leave it be until—'til it works its way up to come on out."
"Doesn't mean it isn't on my mind," Carol said. "Just like a splinter. It's on my mind." Daryl hummed at her and repeated his advice about not worrying it. Carol accepted it, finally, and turned the conversation back on him. "What are you worrying about, then?" Carol asked.
"What ain't I worryin' about?" Daryl responded.
"It ain't the farm," Carol said. "There ain't nothin' else you can do to make sure that nothing's gonna turn out no better'n it is, Daryl. Wheat's doing good. Cows are doin' good. But something's worryin' you. I know you." Daryl shrugged his shoulders and returned his gaze to whatever it was that he'd been dedicated to watching beyond the porch. "Are you worried about the baby, Daryl?" Carol asked.
"I know it's there," Daryl said. "I don't need no more proof than that. It's you that's lookin' for the signs that are right in front of your face."
"Maybe you're not worried that it isn't there," Carol said. "But you're worried about it just the same. You worried about it?"
Daryl took his time getting around to answering her. He took his time getting around to even opening his mouth. Carol let him have the time, too. He wasn't getting up and he wasn't suggesting that they go to bed. He wasn't ending the conversation, so that meant that, eventually, he was set on talking about it. He just needed the time to get around to it. Finally, he did speak.
"What was the woman's name what you saw in town?" Daryl asked.
"Mary?" Carol asked. "Mary Williams?"
Daryl nodded his head.
"If her husband's the Charlie I'm thinkin' about," Daryl said. "Then they got a right good number of children. I seen 'em all down at the livery." He leaned forward and made a gesture with his hand, moving it from one side to the other, dropping it an inch each time until he couldn't reach any farther and sat back in his chair. "All lined up. All just a size smaller'n the last. Reckon one comes each year as sure as the snow."
"Lotta people got kids like that," Carol said. "If we were lucky? We would too."
Daryl hummed.
"A man named Richard Grimes come out to Hershel's the other day," Daryl said. "I say that. Been a good three weeks. Maybe a month. Sheriff."
"Hershel in trouble?" Carol asked, her stomach twisting and offering her another wave of nausea and the salty taste that came with it.
Daryl hummed in the negative.
"Come out there to see about a dog for his boy," Daryl said. "See if they had pups an' if they'd be willin' to part with one. But while he was there? Was telliin' about his kids. Got two. They ain't had 'em, neither, like they was steps on a ladder. Boy's a good bit on older'n the girl."
"That happens too," Carol said. "And if it happens that way for us—I hope it isn't a problem. You had some way you wanted it to happen?"
"I don't care," Daryl said. "If they's just the one or...a dozen. That ain't what struck me 'bout his story."
"What was it?" Carol asked.
By now she'd abandoned even pretending that she was mending the shirt, and Daryl had long since finished his cigarette. The hour was growing late and they should both be going to bed. But it was clear that they weren't. Carol had pressed Daryl to speak about what was on his mind, and now that he was speaking? She would stay there and listen to him until the sun came up if that's what she had to do.
"Man said that they had up and figured they weren't gonna have no more babies," Daryl said. "His son's on up and more'n likely you teachin' him."
"What'd you say his name was?" Carol asked.
"Grimes," Daryl said. "Least I think that's what he said. Sheriff in town. Or deputy. I don't know. Try not to know the law that well—but it ain't like it don't change regular neither."
"I've got a boy that's a Grimes," Carol said. "He's about ten."
Daryl nodded his head.
"Probl'y one an' the same," Daryl said. "Said they figured there wouldn't be no more after him because they weren't no more. Just him and didn't no other come along. Except then there was one. A lil' girl. From what he told? She ain't up off the floor yet."
Carol smiled to herself.
"Then I'm sure they're happy," Carol said.
"Would be," Daryl said. "But his wife's dead, Carol."
Carol's stomach clenched again and she looked at Daryl. He was focused hard on whatever it was that he was looking at—though his eyes weren't exactly pointed at anything worth focusing on.
"Dead?" Carol asked.
"Baby come," Daryl said. "Healthy, too. But she—ain't made it. Took to bed when the girl was borned an' she ain't never got back out again."
Carol swallowed.
"Is that what's got you worrying?" Carol asked. "That the sheriff's wife didn't make it through birthing their child?"
Daryl was quiet. Finally, though, Carol saw him give a nod of his head. It was just one nod. A solid nod. But if she hadn't been looking, she'd have missed his silent confession.
"Seems like a good enough thing to worry about to me," Daryl said.
"You're worried about me?" Carol asked.
Daryl shrugged his shoulders.
"Honest?" He asked. Carol hummed at him that honesty, in fact, was what she wanted. "If it was up to me? I'd rather that there weren't no baby," Daryl said. "If—it was up to me an' I was keepin' you or a baby? I'd rather that there just weren't no baby."
Carol's throat ached. She swallowed against the sensation.
"You can't say that, Daryl," Carol said quietly. "You shouldn't say that."
"Not even if it's honest?" Daryl asked. He sighed. "I been knowin' that I shouldn't say it. It's why I ain't said it before."
"It's our baby," Carol said, finding that she almost felt like she was choking. "You just can't say it. You can't say that you don't want it. You can't, Daryl. You can't not want it."
Daryl shook his head.
"Don't mean that I don't want it if we gettin' it together," Daryl said. "Sure I want it. If we gettin' it together? I want it an' I want'cha to have however many of 'em you want. You want a dozen then that's what I want'cha to have. But—I gotta...gotta decide? I love you. And I'da heap rather have you than have a dozen babies."
"I don't know about a dozen babies," Carol said. "I think—we have to start with just the one. It's a good place to start. But it ain't like deciding. It ain't like nobody's gonna tell you that you can pick to have me or you can pick to have the baby. It's about havin' both. Me and the baby."
"Until it ain't," Daryl said. "Until—a man ends up like he done. Two kids an' no wife."
"People die, Daryl," Carol said. "You and me both are gonna die one day. And I could die birthing the baby, but I could die too 'cause I got kicked in the head by a horse. Or you could die 'cause your heart give out in the heat. We could freeze to death, Daryl. All blue and solid out in the cold somewhere. People die."
"I know they do," Daryl said. "I just—I ain't ready for it."
"And I don't know if we ever are," Carol said.
She might have dismissed his concern as something that she couldn't do anything about, but she wasn't going to. He hadn't dismissed her concerns, no matter how trivial or simple they might be. She wasn't in the practice of dismissing his, either.
Carol got up from her seat and put the shirt she'd been holding down on the chair. She walked the few steps that it took to get to Daryl, stepping around the dogs, and she invited herself into his lap without seeking permission. He wrapped his arms around her as she sat and she leaned into him, kissing the side of his face. He rubbed his hands on her and then wrapped his arms tightly around her once more.
"We're just gonna be as careful as we can," Carol said. "We don't get no guarantees. Not that there's gonna be a baby. Not that—you and me are even gonna live to see a baby. We don't get no guarantees. But we're gonna be...as careful as we can."
"I can keep you away from the horses," Daryl said. "So they don't kick you in the head. And I can be sure you—be sure you don't freeze by keepin' a fire goin'. But I can't do nothin' about somethin' we can't even see. Can't even touch. I can't fight somethin' that we don't even get to be sure is real."
"No," Carol said, nuzzling his face and neck. He shivered and she smiled to herself. There wasn't a chill in the air. His shiver had come from the sensations she'd stirred up inside of him. "You can't. You're nothin' but a man, Daryl. A very good man, but a man just the same. And you can't fight death 'cause death don't ever lose. Not to a man. But—just like the splinter? You can't worry death out neither. It's there or it isn't. Simple as that."
"You not worried?" Daryl asked.
Carol laughed to herself.
"About that? No," she said. "You got your worries and I got mine. The important thing, I suppose, is that we're sharing 'em so we don't have to worry them alone. And...maybe there ain't no cause for either of us to worry. Since I married you? Before then, even...since I met you, there ain't been nothin' that ain't gone right. Might not have come easy, and it mighta took its time, but there ain't been a night that I didn't go to bed a little happier'n I was when I woke up that morning."
"Until one day there ain't no more," Daryl said.
"No more days?" Carol asked, trying to clarify where he'd gone in his mind.
Daryl nodded and tightened his arms around her quickly before he let off on the pressure a little.
"No more happy," Daryl said.
Carol swallowed and shifted her weight a little.
"Happy is like love," Carol said. "You don't run out 'cause you can always make more. And it's a good thing, Daryl. Because when the baby gets born? You're gonna have to be makin' a whole lot more of both. Enough to go around. Because you're gonna have to have enough for all of us."
Daryl turned his face and kissed Carol. His lips caught the corner of her mouth and she smiled at the sensation. She looked at him. His expression was still a little pained, but there was some relief on his features. He didn't look as drawn up as he had. Carol offered him a smile and raised her eyebrows.
"It's true," she insisted. "If—if there's really a baby? You gotta be ready for it. Because if you thought makin' enough love and enough happiness for just the two of us was a lotta work? Three's really gonna take a lot. It's liable to be more happiness and more—more love...than one person can hold without busting."
Daryl laughed at her, then, low and quiet in his throat. When he squeezed her that time, it wasn't quite the same as it had been before. It was comfortable and not quite as desperate. He moved one of his hands and rubbed it across her stomach, kneading her body. It was almost uncomfortable, but Carol took it for the comfort that it was meant to provide. Daryl didn't always realize how strong his hands were, but he never meant any of his accidental roughness, and Carol knew that.
"You don't see it," Daryl said. "Because you don't look at you like I look at you. But you gettin' heavy enough."
Carol smiled at him.
"Yeah?" She asked.
"Yeah," Daryl confirmed, nodding his head at her.
"So you think there's a baby to come?" Carol asked.
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Sure as morning, it's coming," Daryl said. "And—speakin' of morning comin'?"
Carol nodded her head, understanding what he was saying before he even said it.
"I'll put the bath water on," Carol said. "Take everything inside."
"You take the lamp inside," Daryl said. "Your sewin'. My tobacco. I'll bring the chairs after I check the barn so just leave 'em out here." Carol nodded her acceptance. "And while you goin'," Daryl said. "Leave your worryin' out here too. It's comin'."
"You leave your worry at the barn then," Carol said. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
Daryl nodded his head and leaned to kiss her. This time, Carol made sure that she met him correctly and she returned the kiss, catching his face in her hand and holding it so that she could deepen the kiss beyond even what he'd intended. She only let him pull away at all because it was late and they'd both lose their breath if she didn't. She stood when he started to stand, and she accepted one more kiss from him when he was on his feet.
"Meant what I said," Daryl said. "There ain't no room for the worryin'. You gettin' bigger, even if you can't see it. And they ain't gonna hardly be room for us both in that bed. Sure ain't gonna be room for the worry too."
Carol smirked at him.
"I meant what I said too," Carol said. "Because if you're bringing all your worry inside? You're gonna have to build me a bigger house. You hear me?"
Daryl laughed quietly.
"Yeah," he said, stepping off the porch to go about his nightly duties. "I heard'ja."
