AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
Confession time. I'm always nervous writing a wedding. It always feels like it won't be right or it won't be enough. At any rate, here's another Dixon wedding.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"Son, you're as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs," Hershel teased. "Do you need a drink to steady your nerves?"
"Were you scared Jo would change her mind?" Daryl asked.
Most of the people who had come for the wedding were already seated in the folding chairs that Hershel and Jo had borrowed from the church they regularly attended. When they began, the actual ceremony would take very little time. Then there were folding tables, from the same church, that were already set up. They'd all enjoy a nice meal together, provided by Jo and a veritable army of friends, acquaintances, and old ladies of both the literal and proverbial types. The evening would be rounded out with dancing, socializing, and drinking with Prospects offering driving services because they'd already been informed that the police were preparing for an onslaught of DUIs.
Everything was ready. They were just waiting on Carol and the final few people that remained inside to make sure that Carol was ready and made it to the wedding.
Daryl stood next to Hershel, at the designated "altar" that was nothing more than a chosen spot in the yard, while they waited. He kept his voice low so that the conversation between them would stay that way.
"I wasn't scared that Jo wasn't going to marry me," Hershel mused. "I think—later—I was scared that she wasn't going to stay married to me, and that it would be my fault if she left. I can assure you, son, that's a far more terrifying reality to face."
"I don't know," Daryl responded. "I know that—if Carol marries me? I'ma do everything I can to make sure that I don't got a reason to think she ain't gonna stay married to me, and so she don't got a single reason to want to go some damn where else. But right now? The waitin'? Feels like I got this whole life, you know? But if she decides not to marry me, and to just move on, instead—I don't know what the hell I've got anymore."
"You've still got your family, son," Hershel offered.
"It ain't the same," Daryl said. "Not anymore."
Hershel smiled at him and clapped him on the shoulder.
"I wouldn't worry too much about it," Hershel said. "Just the same as you said you would give her every reason to stay, I think you've given her every reason to marry you."
"My stomach feels like it's damn near turned inside out," Daryl lamented. "I wish I had the same kinda faith you got right this minute."
Hershel winked at him.
"Then borrow some of mine," he said. "Because—if I'm not mistaken, that's your bride coming now."
Daryl's heart leaped around wildly the moment that he saw her, coming across the yard, on Merle's arm. She was smiling like she meant it. Like she really, really meant it. Merle walked with her to the start of the folding chairs, which created the aisle that Daryl had wanted, and he stopped. He gave Jo the chance to take the long way around to find her seat at the front, and he gave Andrea the chance to get Sophia settled.
Sophia, in her little dark yellow dress that she'd picked out, was wearing the little cut that her mother allowed her to sport for just such an occasion. In her hair, Jo or Andrea had braided some little pieces of the green-vined plants that nearly took over the sunroom just off the back porch of Hershel and Jo's house. She looked immeasurably happy as she marched down the aisle, holding her small bouquet with the rings tied around it with a piece of ribbon.
At the front of the aisle, she took her seat beside Jo, and sat beaming and wiggling in her chair—trying to take in everything at once.
There was no wedding march. Merle waited until Sophia was settled before he tugged Carol forward.
The green dress that she'd picked out—one that would grow right along with her, as she'd said—was a pretty sort of forest green, and it hung loosely, catching just under her breasts to accentuate them. Whoever had weaved the vines into Sophia's hair had made something of a headband for Carol that rested almost like a crown on her head. In her hand, she held her bouquet, and she kept the other looped tightly through Merle's arm.
She was smiling, and it was sincere. Daryl could feel it from where he was standing, and it did wonders for untangling the tight knots in his chest. Merle was smiling, too, as he stepped right in front of Daryl and passed Carol off to him.
Carol searched, for a moment, with her eyes, and Andrea came somewhat quickly from the side where she'd stood, taking a few pictures, and took the bouquet before she passed it to Jo and moved again to find a spot for taking more pictures.
Daryl knew that he was only supposed to stand there and hold Carol's hand—awaiting more instruction from Hershel—but he couldn't help himself. He raised Carol's hand up and pressed his lips to her fingers.
"Glad you came," he said quietly.
"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," she breathed out. Daryl accepted the droplets that were hanging in her eyes. Tears didn't go with the smile that she was wearing, but he assumed that these might be the kind of tears that were welcomed on happy occasions.
He glanced at Hershel, who was watching both of them, and nodded. Hershel unfolded the piece of paper on which he'd written the speech that he'd decided to give at the start of their ceremony.
"I sat down about three nights ago and realized that I have performed eighteen wedding ceremonies that I can recall," Hershel said. "I got ordained so that I could perform marriage ceremonies for those who couldn't or wouldn't be married in churches, but who wanted something a bit more meaningful than the courthouse could provide. Some of those marriages have not worked out, over time, and others are still going strong. Before each of these ceremonies, I've sat down with the couples and had at least a brief conversation about their reasons for getting married and their expectations—both for the ceremony and the marriage. I've also tried to offer some advice—mostly personal—about marriage, even though I'm not qualified, by anything more than my own experience, to give marriage advice. When I sat down to speak with Daryl and Carol, I found myself at a loss. I had no advice to offer them. Their expectations were sober and realistic. They weren't expecting to find a miracle person, in each other, to solve every problem that either of them ever had. Rather, they expected to find someone who might help them carry the burden. When I asked about their expectations for a ceremony, they said that they wanted something that was somewhat traditional, but they hardly wanted any of the traditional elements, with very few and specific exceptions." Hershel folded up the piece of paper. "Daryl and Carol are pleased that all of you—family and friends—could be here to witness their vows of love and dedication to each other, and to celebrate the life that they which to lead, together, from this day forward. At this time, they will say the words that they have prepared for each other. Daryl? It's customary for you to begin."
Daryl worked Carol's hand in his. He focused on her eyes—the tears puddling there that she wiped away with the other hand from time to time. He focused on her smile. But, suddenly, he couldn't think of anything else.
"I'm in trouble," Daryl said.
"You can say that again, boy!" Merle howled from the front row where he sat. The brothers around him laughed, and Daryl laughed too, appreciative.
"I'm serious," Daryl said. "I didn't write a single thing down. I was dumb enough to think that—it'd all just come to me like somethin' out a book or somethin'. Now—I can't think of nothin' to say, really."
Carol nodded at him, reassuringly, and squeezed his hand.
"Then just say what you think," she pressed.
"What if I say it wrong?" Daryl asked.
"Then I'll hear it right," Carol said. "Even if—they don't."
Daryl nodded at her and cleared his throat a few times, trying to get rid of the tightness that had been choking him for most of the morning.
"I guess the biggest thing I got to say is that—I been worried all morning that you wouldn't marry me. I know it's a bad excuse, but that's why I forgot to go back over what I wanted to say. I was just worried—that you weren't gonna marry me and it made me think that…I didn't know what kinda life I had if you took Sophia and you just walked out of it. I couldn't even remember what kinda life I was livin' before you got here. All I've known, all morning, is that I don't wanna go back to that—whatever it was. I just want you to marry me so—we don't go back. We just go forward. Together."
Carol nodded.
"Do you want to hear my confession?" She asked. Daryl nodded. She squeezed his hand again. He worked her fingers in his. "I was going to ask Hershel to read the vows for me because I never could write anything that I thought sounded good. All I kept coming up with was that I love you, and Sophia loves you…and I can't believe that you're real, and that I met you, and you want to marry me. And you haven't changed your mind yet. And—it's been such a wild ride, but I just can't wait to see…to see what else there is for us."
Daryl swallowed again, against the pesky lump that was choking him and wouldn't be cleared.
"Sounds alright to me," he offered.
"Yeah?" Carol asked, smiling at him. He nodded.
"I mean—it don't rhyme or nothin'," Daryl teased. "But—it's got potential."
"Asshole," Carol muttered.
"But one you want for a while, right?" Daryl asked. "As—your own?"
Carol laughed to herself.
"I don't want anything more," she offered.
Daryl looked at Hershel. Hands somewhat folded in front of him, he simply waited—as did their audience—to let them say what they needed to say. Daryl felt warmth puddling in his belly.
"I guess the words don't really matter, do they?" He asked the old man.
"They never did, son," Hershel said. "Not really. Are we ready to exchange rings?"
Daryl looked at Carol. She nodded at him, so he mirrored the nod. Sophia bounded forward, at Jo's urging since the little girl's attention had already drifted away, and offered her bouquet toward Daryl. He picked at the knots that tied the rings to the ribbon, and when he cursed about his inability to free them, Merle stepped forward and, producing a pocket knife, cut the rings loose and passed them to Daryl before pocketing his knife, scooping Sophia up, and carrying the giggling girl back to his seat with him.
"Here's where I get to be a little more traditional. Daryl, you may place the ring on Carol's finger," Hershel instructed. Carol offered her hand, fingers outstretched, to Daryl and he slid the ring onto her finger. "Do you promise to take Carol, as your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to love and to honor, to comfort and to cherish, and to be faithful, only to her, for all of the days of your life?"
Daryl smiled to himself. He nodded.
"I do," he said.
Hershel smiled at the confirmation.
"Carol, you may place the ring on Daryl's finger." Daryl held his hand out, after passing Carol the ring that was warming in his palm, and she worked it onto his finger with a smile. "Do you promise to take Daryl, as your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to honor, to comfort and to cherish, and to be faithful, only to him, for all of the days of your life?"
"I do," Carol assured him.
"Then by the power vested in me, by the state of Georgia, I now pronounce you husband and wife," Hershel said. "You may kiss your bride."
Daryl's heart leapt in his chest at the words, and he reached his hands out, catching Carol's face. She smiled at him.
"You got—your words," she offered.
"I got somethin' a helluva lot better'n that, woman," Daryl assured her.
He leaned to kiss her, and she accepted the kiss. It was tentative, soft and sweet, at first, and then she deepened the kiss.
Daryl swallowed back the laughter that would break the kiss, despite the hooping and hollering from the crowd around them that was given permission, now, to break their silence. He only broke the kiss when Hershel placed a hand on either of their shoulders.
"Congratulations, you two. Now—let's make sure you save some of that for the honeymoon."
It was Carol's laughter, then, that broke the kiss.
"Don't worry," Daryl offered to Hershel, "there's plenty more where that come from."
"Everybody!" Hershel barked. "Everybody! Can I have your attention?"
Slowly, the crowd calmed enough to give Hershel the attention he required.
"I present to you, Mr. Daryl Dixon and his beautiful wife, Mrs. Carol Dixon. And now, on behalf of Jo and myself, I invite you all to stay. Spend the day with the us. Have food and drink—as much as you want. Stay outta the pond and outta that back pasture where the bull's locked up. Have a good time, and let's celebrate the happy couple!
