A/N: Valentine's Day is going to get TWO chapters in this story. As an FYI, May 9, 10, and 11 are the last days to get some of my novels for 50%+ off if you are interested. Type in "Molly Taggart" on Amazon. Several are on sale. "Roots that Clutch" is my favorite of the bunch.
[*]
Daryl's not able to catch anything on the hunt for the next few days, and their supply of peanut butter and canned beans has dwindled. The ice, unfortunately, has not. Today, when he checks Carol's traps, one has miraculously snared a red fox. He slits the snarling animal's throat quickly. Then he holds his breath as he cuts it open…
No worms.
"Thank God," he murmurs.
Once it's skinned and butchered, he weighs the salvageable meat on the farm scale they've left outside the smokehouse. "Eight pounds," he tells Maggie when he comes inside the Inn.
"One serving per person per day for two days," she says. "With a little left over."
It's not as much as he'd hoped, but it's something.
[*]
While Carol tenderizes the fox meat on the island counter, Daryl crosses yesterday off the heavy, five-year wall calendar that hangs next to the fridge. Predictably, it has pictures of wine on it, grapes, and birds sitting on fence posts in vineyards. Michonne has used it to circle her guess at a due date, which she's decided is May 29, and Carol uses it to plan meals.
Today is February 13, which they only know because Javier told them the actual date three months ago. Dead End has been keeping time ever since the world collapsed.
Someone – Carol maybe – has drawn a little heart on the 14th. He clicks the cap back on the Sharpie, sets it on the counter, and sneaks up behind Carol where she's seasoning the now tenderized meat with a medley of spices that tickle his nose. He wraps his arms around her from behind. She startles, and then relaxes back into his embrace. He nuzzles her neck, nips it, kisses her cheek, and says, "My wife's cookin' smells damn good."
[*]
The next day, as soon as Carol wakes up in the flickering light of the rising sun, Daryl surprises her with the coyote fur hat from the hide he's been tanning. He's put it in a drawstring sports bag, which he tells her to "unwrap."
She sits up in bed and draws out the hat, a little puzzled before she realizes what it is. "I…I was not expecting a gift from you," she admits as she settles the hat on her head. She gets out of bed and walks over to look in the mirror attached to the vanity. It's…atrocious really. There's no symmetry, the seams are visible, the coyote fur is a wild, frenzied mass and she looks like one of those wild things in Judith's favorite book. "I love it. It's beautiful."
"Why weren't ya expectin' nothin'?" he asks, sounding offended. "Rick 'n Zeke're both givin' their wives stuff."
"They are?" Carol comes and sits beside him on the foot of the bed.
"Yeah. Think so. Rick found this Polaroid. 'N I saw 'Zeke getting' plastic flowers out the attic."
"Huh. That seems a little low rent for his Royal Highness," Carol muses.
"Seen 'em writin' 'er a poem, too."
"Now that's the Ezekiel I know."
"Sorry," he mutters, and his perpetual hangnail goes write to his teeth. "I can't write shit."
Carol runs a hand over her hat. "This is so much better, Daryl. Poems can't keep you warm in the cold. And I know a lot of time went into making it."
"Enid helped. Did the sewin' part. I did the tannin' 'n all that."
"You really like your holidays, don't you?" she asks.
He shrugs. "Truth is…Holidays was always shit when I was growin' up. Merle'd always steal my candy on Halloween. One Thanksgivin' granny got drunk, yelled up a storm at Mama, and threw the whole damn turkey 'cross the table. My daddy'd get drunk and knock over the damn Christmas tree every year. Then he'd blame me and take a belt to me. He and Mamma'd fight on Valentine's about his whorin', and he'd call her a whore, and she'd throw a glass at him, and he'd slap her. Then make me sweep up the glass she broke." He sighs. "Just…want nice holidays for a change. 'S all."
Carol smiles gently. Sadness and affections mingle in that smile. "This is going to be a nice holiday, Daryl. I promise. It already is." She kisses him tenderly. "And as your gift…tonight…when we've locked the bedroom door…you get to be in charge. You can have anything you want."
His lips twitch into smile that is one-part boyish excitement, and one-part lecherous man.
[*]
Nabila stirs when Gracie crawls out of the toddler bed Ezekiel made her. The little girl, who is now over a year, toddles to her side of the bed, saying, "Bee-lee, bee-lee," but Ezekiel snatches her up. "I've got her. You get some sleep."
Nabila dozes off immediately.
[*]
Michonne awakes to a steaming cup of coffee being set on her nightstand. She drags herself into a sitting position. "Where's Judith?" The curtain that divides the alcove has been pulled open.
"Playing with Henry."
"Is there an adult watching her?"
"Henry's becoming very responsible. He's twelve now."
Michonne takes a small sip of the warm coffee. "Decaf, right?"
"Half calf. You can have a little caffeine on Valentine's. The midwife said so."
"You actually radioed Dolly to ask?"
"Maybe."
"You know, this isn't the first rodeo for either of us."
He sits down and puts a cloth grocery store bag on the bed. "It's our first together." He points to the bag. "I got you something." She sets down her coffee and pulls out a Polaroid camera. "No way."
"Yes way. It was way back on the top shelf of the second-floor hall closet. And there's an unopened package of film."
Michonne peers in the bag. "I see that."
"There's more film loaded into it. Seven shots left. Ten in the un-opened pack. I had to try it out. It works. We can take photos of the baby when it comes."
Michonne's nose scrunches up as she tries not to cry from the beautiful normalcy of it all. She looks inside the bag again. "And you got a photo album?" She pulls out the off-white album with gold lettering that says – Our Family.
"I took all the old photos out. There weren't very many. It looked like someone started it and didn't get very far."
She opens it and finds he's adhered a candid polaroid photo of Judith playing with Gracie on the first page. Under that is Henry and Jerry at the checker table, Jerry waving. She turns the page to find another photo of Jesus and Daryl at the pool table, Daryl flicking off the camera. Or maybe he's flicking off Rick. She's not sure which. She laughs. "You did try it out. And it does work."
"We'll have to get the whole camp together for a family photo later today."
She turns the page. Carl's letters to her and Rick are in a keepsake pocket there. "You saved them?"
"Yeah. First thing I grabbed from the fire after Judith."
She runs her fingertips lightly over one of the pages of Carl's letters. "It's a really beautiful gift." A single tear escapes her eye and weaves a light path down her cheek. Rick wraps and arm around her and kisses it away.
[*]
Nabila awakes to find the bedroom empty. There's a plastic flower on top of a sheet of notebook paper on the pillow beside her.
She sits up in bed and has just started reading the poem when Ezekiel comes into the room. "You're awake?"
"Where's Gracie?" she asks.
"With Aaron and Jesus. Do you like the poem?"
"I'm not finished," she tells him. As she reads, she fights back the mounting urge to laugh. It's a heartfelt poem, romantic, and…completely over the top. She keeps the laughter down, but she feels like her smile must be consuming her entire face. She folds it up carefully.
"Did you like it?" he asks again.
"Well of course I did, Zeki. You see how much it's made me smile."
[*]
"How did we get stuck babysitting the kids while everyone else is celebrating Valentine's Day?" Aaron asks Jesus as he bends with Gracie in his lap to pick up the books she's dropped on the library floor. He gives it back to her.
"Well, it's not like you got me anything," Jesus mutters.
"You didn't get me anything either."
"Because I don't like pre-packaged holidays," Jesus insists. "I like surprises."
"Then what are you complaining about?" Aaron asks.
"I'm not complaining." Jesus drums his fingertips on the mantle of the fireplace. "I can wait until this ice melts and we can get out of here and go on a supply run."
"I don't know what I'm going to do with you if you ever retire."
Jesus laughs. "Am I that restless?"
"Lately. Hey, you think we should go check out Croatan Beach? Make sure all those women are safe."
"Are you insane?"
"Just think about it. It could be a scouting mission. We're both good at watching people from afar without being seen. And if there is still a group of bad guys there…" He shrugs. "Well, at least we'll know how big a camp they have."
[*]
Dianne has recently returned from a very slippery hunt during which she lost an arrow but gained a crow when Tara calls down from the watch stand - "The radio's for you!" She waves it.
Dianne scales the ladder to get the radio and, when she's at the bottom again, says, "Hello?"
Mason's familiar drawl comes through - "Will you be my Valentine?"
She heads for the semi-privacy and warmth of the Inn, her feet numb from the hunt and her fingers starting to burn. "What does that even mean?"
"It means you talk to me for a spell. I'm bored. Work's been cut in half around here, given that the ice keeps us from doing much."
She opens the door of the Inn and shuts it and heads toward the library, which is empty now except for Aaron, who is about to dampen the fire. "Leave it, please," she asks him, and he nods and walks away.
"I'm sorry?" Mason says.
"Not you. I'm warming up by the fire." She sets the radio down and strips off her boots and gloves and waves her hands before the flames.
"Well that's a delightful diversion to imagine."
She shakes her head, takes the radio, sits down cross-legged in front of the fire, and says, "Hardly. I bet my toes are blue. But I got a crow."
"Are things that bad?"
"They aren't good," she admits.
"Juanita says the weather will warm tomorrow. She can feel it in her bones. be there with food in three days at the outset. One way or the other. I promise you that."
[*]
Carol's hat may be a bit wild and misshapen, but she wears it all morning with pride.
That afternoon, however, when Daryl is attempting yet again to hunt and Enid has vanished somewhere, she goes to her bedroom, pulls out some of the stitching, and secretly redoes it.
