Preacher's Daughter
Chapter 52: Old Habits Die Hard
The holidays are nearly upon us, November ushering in with the first snow of winter. Going to the living room window, I hold Beryl as I watch the meadow become a white blanket.
Daryl walks up behind me, his arms going around me tight. "What'ca thinkin?"
"How lucky I am to have you, Beryl and be here in our beautiful home." I turn to him, Beryl reaching for her father. "Daryl, are you happy sweetheart?"
He kisses me so tenderly I can feel his love down deep in my soul. "I'm happy wherever you are."
We both look up when we hear the sound of someone yelling. Daryl opens the front door, Sam pulling his bike up. We run out to him, his hands and clothes spattered with blood.
"Sam, are you hurt." Daryl's hands move over his arms, trying to find the source of the blood.
"It's Merle, he's bad off. He wrecked his bike back on the highway." From the ghostly pale look on his face, we know it's more than urgent.
Daryl jumps on his bike and is gone, my heart pounding out of my chest. I place Beryl in her playpen, gathering up anything we can use to patch Merle up. My heart begins to pound harder as I begin to worry that Daryl may find Merle dead.
Picking up the phone, I call Diane and ask for her help. She and Jack are at the house in a matter of minutes, Jack taking my truck to the scene of the accident.
Diane holds my hand as I pace a small patch in front of her, my fears getting the best of me. "What if he's dead? What if Daryl finds pieces of him all over the highway? What if…"
"Stop … take a deep breath and calm down. Sam wouldn't let Daryl see that, he just wouldn't. Have faith and be strong for your husband." Her green eyes smile back at me, instantly calming me.
My calm state doesn't last long as Jack and Daryl carry a bloody, battered Merle in. They place him on the kitchen table, the skin of his arms and head gone in places.
Sam waits at the door, shock starting to take a toll on him. I grab a blanket and place it over him, getting him to sit on the couch. "Sip this water and rest Sam. We'll do what we can for Merle."
I hear Jack tell Daryl they have to get Merle to the hospital, but Daryl won't hear of it. "No, Merle hates hospitals. Besides, from what I found on him, they'll just toss his ass in jail. He's higher than a kite right now and his saddlebags are full of all sorts of meds."
Diane calls a friend that's a nurse, asking or her help and her silence. We wait nearly thirty minutes for the arrival of Nurse Nightingale. The tall, brunette Amazon looking beauty walks, immediately going to work on Merle.
Daryl looks at Diane, blood still covering his hands. "She any good?"
"We've done all we can, he needs Ally. She's good at what she does, let her do it. You can trust her Daryl, she's patched her outlaw brothers up enough." Diane grabs a dish towel from the sink, wiping Daryl's hands.
I set on the couch next to Sam, the accident still fresh with him. "You okay?"
"No I ain't … he was so fucked up and I kept telling him we need to stop. He just laughed at me and revved the bike faster. He didn't see the semi-truck until it was right up on him. Merle jerked his bike to the left and that's when I saw him go sailing in the air. The bike hit the tree, he hit the asphalt." Sam closes his gray eyes, his hands shaking.
Placing my hand over his, I do my best to comfort him. Daryl sits down with us, his blue eyes looking strained. I take my other hand, holding my husband's hand tightly. We sit there quietly for a while; the only sounds in the house are Ally moving about and Beryl babbling.
Ally comes over to us, wiping her hands on a towel. "I've done all I can for him. He'll be okay with rest and antibiotics, but he needs to dry out. I'm not sure what is drug of preference is, but it's good he's in an intoxicated state or he'd be screaming his fool head off. I'll leave my number for you if he takes a turn for the worse. I've wrapped his ribs and fixed his dislocated shoulder. He's sprain both ankles, so he'll need to stay off them for now. The rest will take time."
Daryl and Jack move Merle into the guest room, he groans and curses as they place him in the bed. Ally leaves some antibiotics and bandages with me, telling me what I have to care for my brother-in-law.
The kitchen is a mess, blood on the table and the floor. Taking a bucket of hot, soapy water, I begin cleaning up. Diane picks up the remains of Merle's leather vest and shirt, bits of flesh clinging to them.
Slumping on the couch, I enjoy the quiet of my home. Sam looks over at me, his eyes showing the first signs of life. "I'll be going, thanks for everything."
"You will not. I'll make up the couch for you. If you want, I'll make you something to eat." He shakes his head, his shoulders showing all the tension in his body.
Daryl and Diane go in to check on Merle as I slip out to the front yard. In the back of my truck is the mangled mess that used to be Merle's bike.
The bike is a twisted pile of steel, the handle bars now where the back tire used to be. I pick up the saddlebags, a bag of pills falling out. Looking through it I see some pretty heavy narcotics, some of it completely illegal.
A hand slides over my shoulder and I scream. Daryl chuckles, taking the bag of drugs from me. "I'll get rid of that."
"Why would he do this when you, when Sam tried so hard to get him clean and keep him clean. Doesn't he care that he has a family that loves him?" I let go of the bag, Daryl staring back at me.
"Merle is complicated, so let me handle him. Don't you worry about Merle." The tone in his voice had a harshness to it that I didn't much care for.
I snatch the bag back from him, holding it behind my back. "I've grown up with Merle, just like you. Granted, I didn't live with him, but don't be so quick to dismiss me or what I can or cannot handle. You're being a dick."
He reaches around me, taking them back. "Stay out of this B.J. He's my brother, I got this."
I walk past him, bumping his arm as I do. He growls something at me as I walk in the house, slamming the front door.
As he enters the house, he tosses the bag on the freshly cleaned kitchen table. The fire in his eyes and the thin line of his lips lets me know he's pissed. I pick Beryl up from her playpen, cradling her in my arms. "I'm sorry Merle is a damn junkie and I'm sorry he's wasted yet again and has fucked up another bike. What do you want from me Daryl? Either I'm your wife and we're in this together or I'm not."
Turning from him, I march down the hall and slam the bedroom door so hard it rattles the wall.
A few moments later, he gently opens the door. "Bobbi Jo, I don't want what Merle is or does to ever touch you and Beryl. I'm use to this shit; I've had a lifetime of it."
I don't turn around to him as I dress Beryl for bed. The sound of his footsteps echoes behind me as he stands almost up against me. "Daryl … you've made it clear that Merle's your brother, that he's not my family. Tell ya what, I'll just take Beryl and go up to the farmhouse tonight and leave you to your brother."
As I move to pick up Beryl's baby bag his hand grips my wrist tight. "That ain't what I meant and you know it. Put the baby to bed and stop this."
My eyes dart up to him, the fire behind them burning. "Let go of me."
He releases my wrist and I walk out of the bedroom and out the front door. My tears fall like rain as I make my way to the farmhouse. Beryl begins to cry, calling out for her daddy.
My heart feels like it's about to break as I feel a pair of hands take me by my waist. I start to scream as I see Daryl turn me around, his lips claiming mine with a fierceness that I had never known from him.
"I love you … come home." I kiss him back, the padding of my bottom lip stinging.
Beryl starts to cry louder, her little hands twisting in my hair. We both look at her, Daryl trying to release the vise grip she has on me. "Daddy's gotcha baby gurl."
"Daryl, I don't want to fight about Merle. You can't protect us from everythang and Merle is no exception." I rest my head on his shoulder, his free arm wrapping around me.
"I know I can't, but ya got to let me deal with Merle … okay?" I nod back at him, glad our fight is over.
As soon as we walk into the house, the overpowering scent of bleach and blood makes my stomach churn. Placing my hand over my mouth, I run to the bathroom, barely making it. Everything in my jerks and convulses as I heave my dinner up.
Daryl stands at the door, Beryl's big blue eyes watching me. "Ma … mama."
"Sweetheart, you okay?" He moves towards me as I throw up my hand, my stomach lurching again.
"I will be." I flop to the bathroom floor, my hand and head resting on the toilet seat.
I motions for him to leave and take Beryl out, the smell still clinging in my nostrils.
Sam comes to the door with a glass of water, squatting down beside me. "So, how far along are ya?"
My eyes dart up to him, astonishment covering my face. "What? No, I'm not …"
The wheels begin to turn in my mind, going back to my last period. A fresh wave of nausea hits me as I remember. Being late was nothing new to me; I'd been late for the last few months. With everything that had happened with Beryl, I just chalked it up to stress.
Looking back up to Sam, I begin to cry. He rubs my shoulder, trying to calm me. "It's gonna be okay, happens all the time."
"I can't be … we can't be … not now. Merle is in bad shape, he'll be on the mend for a while. Daryl has too much on him already; I can't place a pregnancy on him too. Oh … why now?" I close my eyes, remembering the pregnancy tests I bought back in the summer when I had my last scare.
Crawling over to the bathroom sink, I pull open the drawer and take out the test. Sam grins at me, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Hope everythang works out B.J."
Daryl calls my name from the other side of the door, asking if I need anything. I answer him back, reassuring him I'm alright. I look over to the plastic stick sitting on the sick, my feet bouncing my legs nervously.
With much trepidation, I look down to see two red lines glaring back at me. "Holy shit."
