Workin' All The Livelong Day

The hay bales were already made into compact squares, wrapped tightly in twine and covered with plastic sheets, left scattered throughout the fields where the baler had left them. Which meant it was Shawn's, Beth's, and Daryl's job to go along and throw them all into the flatbed trailer that was attached to the back of the truck.

Hershel volunteered to drive, seeing as Daryl's extra help would cut their usual time in half. Merle appeared in the passenger seat inside the cab of the truck, eager to go along for the ride and watch them work. Daryl and Shawn sat on opposite edges of the truck bed, poised and ready to hop down quickly. Beth stood on the trailer, like normal, ready to grab the bales as they were tossed in and straighten them into efficient piles.

"Alright, y'all," Hershel called out the open driver's window as they started on their way. "Let's try an' get this done 'fore that rain decides to start fallin'! The bales are already wrapped up, but I don't think Bethy back here wants ta get her hair wet."

Beth could hear Merle's laughter from inside the cab. She just rolled her eyes and slipped on her heavy duty work gloves. Her daddy knew she was no diva when it came to farm work, but he sure liked to tease her every chance he got, just like Shawn.

Hershel drove slowly, tires bumping along through the field, trailer rattling noisily behind it, and when they approached the bales, Shawn and Daryl hopped down and began jogging along next to either side of the truck. Shawn would grab a bale and toss it into the bed, where Beth would let it fall and then pick it up by the twine with gloved hands and stack it neatly beside her. Then Daryl would jog ahead to his bale and toss it up to her, by which point Shawn would reach his next bale and toss it into the trailer. And back and forth it went. It didn't take long for them to get a rhythm going, and Beth couldn't help but wish she had Daryl's help more often. He definitely knew what he was doing, and it was clear that he was no stranger to physical labor. He kept up pace with Shawn without even breaking a sweat—well, for the first several minutes, anyway. They were all sweating before too long. And they were all so caught up in the work that there wasn't even time to talk. Or argue. Which was probably for the best, Beth figured.

A half hour's worth of hard work passed in a blur of perspiration and grunts and the sound of hay brushing against fabric and steel. By the time they'd loaded up the flatbed with a full stack of bales, the thunder was rumbling more often overhead—it wasn't just the engine of the old truck or the loud rattling metal of the trailer, like Beth had thought. Flashes of lightning occurred more frequently and closer in succession. The sun was blotted out by broiling stormclouds, casting a hazy gray over the earth. Hershel circled back and pressed down on the accelerator a little harder, taking them to the barn to unload the bales from the trailer and load them onto the conveyor that would take them up into the hayloft. Maggie and Glenn could be seen from a distance, mounted on their horses off in a field to the east with a small team of other horses trotting around behind them.

Beth tried to focus on the work. She really did. Her muscles ached and sweat ran down her face, and all she could think about was jumping in the shower and lying down in her soft bed. But then she saw Daryl from the corner of her eye. He caught her attention from up in the hayloft, where he was grabbing bales from the conveyor belt and stacking them neatly against the wall. And she couldn't help but look… just look.

He'd rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. His shaggy hair was growing damp with sweat, as was his face. A few drops rolled down his neck and trailed the sharp juts of his clavicle, disappearing somewhere beneath the fabric of his shirt. Every muscle in his body strained as he worked, but she could see his forearms specifically, and his large hands. She could see the muscles in his biceps flexing prominently through the sleeves of his shirt. And she could no longer focus on anything else. Was her heart racing because of the work? Or because of Daryl's magnificent—

"Jesus, blondie," Merle commented, standing off to the side while he smoked a cigarette and watched them work. "Pick yer jaw up off the floor. Ain't makin' much of a case fer yerself when it comes to claimin' you don't wanna fuck my brother, ya know. I can see it on yer face." He barked out a laugh. "Yer eye-fuckin' him like a bitch who ain't been touched in years."

Beth shot the dead Dixon a murderous glare and went back to work. After that, she made a point to not look at Daryl. Her face was red, but she hoped it would appear to be from exertion rather than embarrassment.

They went out for a second run through the fields, with Daryl and Shawn on either side, throwing hay bales into the trailer, synchronizing their movements almost perfectly. Beth stayed too busy to admire Daryl from afar. They gathered the rest of the bales and made it back to the barn in less time than before. Beth jumped in and helped load plastic-wrapped bales onto the conveyor belt, while Daryl and Shawn received them and stacked them up on the other end inside the hayloft.

Merle kept appearing off to the side, endlessly amused by the sight of Beth breaking a sweat. He started belting out, in an exaggerated singing voice, "Swing lo-o-o-ow, sweet cha-a-a-riot! Comin' forth ta carry me home!" Beth shot him a loathsome glare and tried to ignore him for the rest of the time. Though his obnoxious laughter always seemed to be ringing in her ears.

Once they were finished in the barn, they drove off towards one of the sheds on the other side of the property and threw several hay bales into storage there. Thunder rumbled above, slow and ominous. There was another bright flash of lightning. But not a single drop of rain. Yet.

"Over there, son—would'ja push those tighter into the corner for me? We can fit these in with a couple more inches of space," Hershel directed from the driver's seat of the truck, waving a hand outside the open window while Daryl nodded and darted into the shed in order to tidy a few bales that were haphazardly shoved against a wall.

Shawn was on the other side of the trailer behind the truck, right beside Beth. They were both preoccupied with pulling bales off the flatbed and preparing to toss them into a pile in the shed.

But Beth wasn't paying any attention to her brother. She was staring at Daryl, compelled by the way his forearms flexed as he shoved entire bales of hay aside. The way his shirt kept dipping low, giving the slightest peek of his bare chest. She was watching him closely, lips parted and eyes wide, practically unaware of the weight in her hands while she went through the motions of throwing bales.

Crap, she thought. Only briefly, though. He looks… really good. Should I be looking at him like this? Probably not. He's way too old for me. But… he's so different. And those arms… Wow. He's really strong. Is that a tattoo on his chest…?

"Hey! Earth to Beth!"

Shawn's voice snapped her to attention. He was glaring at her, the front of his shirt covered in hay, face red and sweaty from all the work they'd been doing.

"What?!" She snapped, chucking a bale against the wall and watching it settle atop the pile.

"Did you not hear a word I just said?" Shawn asked. He glanced towards the direction she'd been staring and narrowed his eyes when he saw Daryl working on the other side of the shed. He turned back to Beth and lowered his voice. "How 'bout you focus on the farm instead'a yer fuckin' boyfriend for once, huh? Wipe that drool off your chin, you look like a lovestruck teenager right now."

Beth snapped, "Screw you, Shawn. You've been nothin' but a dickhead all day."

He looked like he was about to argue but suddenly decided against it. He shrugged and grabbed up another bale of hay from the trailer.

"You keep sayin' that, but yer not provin' me wrong," he muttered.

Merle was standing off to the side, still smoking a cigarette and watching them work with amusement. At Shawn's comment, he laughed loudly.

"Much as I hate to admit it, this asshole's got a point, blondie. Lovestruck teenager is a nicer term than I'd use."

She huffed angrily and lowered her voice so her dad and Daryl couldn't hear, eyes narrowed at Shawn. "Ya know, I'm gettin' real sick of your crappy attitude. Maybe you should call Carly up soon, 'cause I think you need to get laid so you'll stop bein' such a whiny asshole."

Merle barked out a laugh of surprise and glee.

Shawn fumed. "Excuse me?"

She quickly went on, keeping her tone low and stern, "You can dislike Daryl all you want, but that doesn't give you the right to disrespect him. Even Dad called you out on it, and you still won't quit. I know yer tired and I know yer overworked an' stressed out, but Daryl's trying to help. I'm stressed out an' overworked, too, but you don't see me goin' around acting like a total bitch to everybody."

Shawn scowled and Merle laughed harder. She couldn't tell if her brother's face was red from the exertion or from being put in his place, but he didn't have anything to say for himself. Instead, he turned his head, spat on the ground—a very Merle-like thing to do, she thought—and turned away, pointedly ignoring her while he went back to work. She had a feeling he was holding back from calling her a bitch to her face, but only because their dad was nearby.

"Damn, blondie," Merle remarked, still chuckling. "'Bout time you say somethin'. Maybe if ya repeat it a few dozen more times, he'll finally get the fuckin' message."

Beth sighed and lowered her head, grabbing up a hay bale a little rougher than necessary. Ugh. Men.

She put all her frustration and aggression into throwing bales, and made sure to keep her eyes to herself the whole time. No matter how badly she wanted to look at Daryl, or lift her head to try and catch his eye. She could feel Shawn and Merle watching her closely.

Yeah, okay. So maybe she liked Daryl. Maybe she was a little attracted to him, even though she shouldn't be.

Whatever. She was a red-blooded woman. And as much as she hated to admit it, Merle was kinda right. She hadn't done anything with a guy since Jimmy in high school. (And maybe one other time shortly after graduation, when he'd come over to say goodbye before he left for college and they… "reconnected" one last time.) But it wasn't a big deal like Merle and Shawn were making it out to be.

It was okay to just look once in a while. It wasn't like she planned on doing anything about it.


When the work was done and both the barn and shed were packed full with enough hay bales to last them through the winter, Shawn went about taking the truck back to the garage and unhitching the trailer. Daryl and Beth stayed behind to walk with Hershel up to the house. The rain still hadn't begun to fall yet. Not even a single drop. But the smell permeated the air, and the thunder and lightning persisted, just as ominous as it had been all day. It was like the storm had drifted in and settled over them, waiting to build up all its strength before it released the downpour upon them. The clouds grew larger, fuller, darker. The wind was beginning to pick up.

Once inside, Hershel led them to the kitchen and invited Daryl to stay a while, offering him some coffee and water. Daryl politely declined, insisting he needed to get back home and take a shower, and that Carol would be starting dinner soon and would be disappointed if he missed "Taco Sunday."

"Taco Sunday?" Hershel repeated with a smile, lowering himself carefully into a seat at the kitchen table. "I've heard of Taco Tuesday, but never Taco Sunday."

Daryl chuckled softly and remained standing near the doorway. "Yeah, we do Spaghetti Tuesdays, but we save Sunday for the tacos."

Hershel laughed jovially. "Oh my, that's a great idea! Spaghetti Tuesdays… I might have to start that around here." He looked to Beth with a wide grin. "What d'ya think, Bethy? Spaghetti Tuesdays?"

Beth smiled back. "Maybe we can have Spaghetti Tuesday on Wednesdays. Just for fun."

Hershel laughed again, and even Daryl let out a little snort of amusement. Beth blushed.

"Y'all make me sick," Merle growled, appearing in the chair across from Hershel with a scowl on his face. "'S like a goddamn sitcom from the fifties 'round here."

Hershel's smile faded and he glanced around seriously, then he stood up from the chair and started walking towards the den. "Before you go runnin' off, Daryl, lemme get my checkbook so I can pay you for all your hard work."

"That ain't necessary," Daryl objected. "I—"

But Hershel was already disappearing into the other room, waving Daryl off as he went. "Nonsense. I don't believe in takin' advantage. You've more than earned yer pay."

Daryl shot Beth a look that said 'I'm not cashing that check.' She returned it with a small, apologetic smile: You know how my dad is.

The eldest Greene returned with his checkbook in one hand and a pen in the other, reading glasses perched on his nose, and he took his seat at the kitchen table once more. He opened the small book and flipped through until he found a blank check, then he started writing it out.

As he did so, he spoke casually towards Daryl, "Now, about those friends you've got who're lookin' for work—how 'bout I give you my cell number, and then you can call me once you get a hold of 'em? I reckon the offer should come from you, since they don't know me yet. But I'd be happy to meet 'em anytime this week." He raised his head as he tore off the check he'd just written and handed it over to Daryl. "And if they're not busy, tell 'em the sooner, the better. Shawn's got quite a load on his back right now, and we wanna get ahead before the first freeze comes. If they're comfortable with it, we can have a discussion about pay, get to know each other a little, and they can start workin' the same day. How's that sound?"

Daryl took the check tentatively, folding it up and stuffing it into his shirt pocket without even glancing at the dollar amount. He nodded. "Sounds good. I'll call 'em tonight and let ya know tomorrow morning."

Hershel smiled and took off his reading glasses to hang them from the collar of his shirt. "Well then, it's a plan. I really do appreciate it, son. I'm glad Beth mentioned somethin' to you about Otis." He gave Beth a little nod of gratitude. "What are these men's names, by the way?"

"Oscar and Big Tiny."

Hershel let out a laugh. "I can only guess Big Tiny is anything but tiny."

"Yeah, he's definitely not. They're both pretty hefty dudes. Could probably throw me across a room without much effort. But uh," Daryl cleared his throat and glanced away, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. "One more thing… they are, uh… these guys are ex-cons, an' I can give ya my word they're good fellas, but I thought I oughta mention, they're… uh—"

Merle barked out a crude laugh. "They're coons! Just spit it out already, little brother!"

Beth was more than glad that no one else could hear him.

Daryl finished, "Well, they're black. Er, African-American. Might come off a little—I'ono, intimidating at first. I know ya pro'lly don't care, I just didn't want ya to be surprised and think—"

"Oh, Daryl," Hershel frowned and made a sound of disappointment. "It doesn't matter to me what they look like. I'm not intimidated by anyone, let alone someone of a different race. We're not that far south, are we?"

Daryl smirked and instantly relaxed. "Nah. I was just… makin' sure. Sorry."

Hershel shook his head. "I would certainly hope you don't think that way about me. I may be old-fashioned, but I'm not a bigot. We are all God's children, made in the image of our Creator."

Merle groaned loudly. "Gimme a fuckin' break."

Beth couldn't help but chuckle a little. The tips of Daryl's ears had gone bright red and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other rather uncomfortably.

"I know ya ain't no bigot," he muttered. "Guess I'm just used to dealin' with the worst kinda people."

Hershel glanced at Beth, but only briefly. Just long enough for her to notice. There was a twinkle in his blue eyes, and he looked at Daryl with a warm smile. "I understand. But as long as these guys are honest and work hard, I couldn't care less about what they look like or how many times they've been to prison."

"What did they go to prison for?" Beth asked, looking to Daryl curiously. "Not that it matters, I was just wonderin'."

Daryl shrugged. "Oscar was in for breaking and entering. His sentence got trumped up 'cause he had weed—er, marijuana on him when he got busted. He did five years, but he's got a wife and a kid now. His burglary days are long over. And Big Tiny was just hangin' out in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people. Fifteen years in the pen taught him his lesson, though. I don't think he's ever gonna step a toe outta line again. Both his moms need him too much. They kinda rely on him to take care of 'em nowadays."

Hershel regarded Daryl thoughtfully, nodding along as he explained. Beth simply muttered, "Oh, wow."

"Live and learn, as I always say," Hershel said. "Some good folks get dealt a bad hand now and again. But it sounds like they've got people counting on them—that's good. It'll keep 'em on the straight an' narrow. I have a feeling they'll be eager to get their hands dirty and earn some fair pay." Then he smiled and stood up, reaching out his hand.

Daryl took it in a firm handshake. "Yer a good man, Hershel. Thanks fer havin' me today. It was real nice."

"It was my pleasure, Daryl," the older man said. "I know church isn't really your thing, but I truly hope you got somethin' out of the service. In my darkest moments, I've found that the Lord has always been a reliable rock to lean on."

"I'm gonna fuckin' throw up. This shit is pathetic," Merle muttered from his seat at the table, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. Beth tried her hardest to tune him out.

Daryl tensed up and pulled his hand back when Hershel released it. "I wasn't really raised with that kinda belief—or any beliefs, if I'm bein' honest. But I've been tryin' to be more open-minded lately. Reckon I could learn a lot from you." He gestured towards Beth and added, "And from yer family."

"Well, anyone who shares our table is part of this family," Hershel beamed. "That includes you."

Daryl blushed. "Thanks."

Then a shadow crossed Hershel's features, his smile faltering. He grew serious and said, "Which reminds me—I haven't had the chance to offer you my condolences. On the losses you suffered this year."

Daryl's face fell and Beth could feel her own draining of color. She pursed her lips and watched silently. But Daryl simply shrugged. Albeit tenser than usual.

"Thank you," he mumbled. "But no condolences are necessary."

She could see Merle perking up in his seat, his interest piqued by the change of topic and the sudden tension in the air. His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Hershel frowned and shifted where he stood. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose a father and a brother so close together. They may not have been the most upstanding citizens, but they were your family. I hope you know that you're not alone in your grief, son."

Daryl gave a clipped nod and swallowed hard. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. It was rough. 'F I'm bein' honest, I was more upset 'bout Merle than I was about our old man. He was a real piece'a work, but he was still my brother. Didn't deserve ta go out like that."

Merle's jaw twitched, eyes narrowing as he watched the two men. Beth tried not to glance over at him.

Hershel nodded and spoke with confidence, from a place of experience, "Of course… I know all about bad fathers. Mine was a lot like Will. I ran away from him the first chance I got, so I understand why you and your brother drifted around for so long. I'm afraid Merle wasn't much more than a product of his environment. Don't feel guilty for the relief that comes with knowin' your old man isn't around anymore; I felt the same thing when my own father passed. I wasn't much younger than you when I discovered the freedom that came with a life free of his existence."

A weight noticeably lifted from Daryl's shoulders. Beth could see it in his face: he was surprised. Shocked that Hershel understood. Truly understood.

"I appreciate that," Daryl muttered sheepishly. "My pa hurt a lotta people. Wish I could make up for all the damage he caused."

"No point in torturing yourself like that," Hershel assured. "From what I've heard, your brother tortured himself more than enough for the both of you. Merle might've had a reputation around these parts, but I've always known he wasn't so bad as they said. Even if he didn't show it… But I don't need to tell you that. I'm sure you knew it far better than anyone."

Merle was loudly sucking his teeth, making his discontent plenty audible for Beth's ears only.

Daryl cleared his throat again and Beth thought she might've seen moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. He blinked it away quickly, though, and nodded. His voice was a bit hoarse as he said, "Yer right about that. My brother was a hellion, but he never really hurt nobody 'cept himself."

"Hah!" Merle burst out, overflowing with resentment. "How 'bout all them assholes I beat into the ground? You forget about them already, Daryl? Couldn't even count how many fights I won on both hands. I hurt lots'a people while I was around! Not just my fuckin' self!"

Hershel breathed out a light hmph. "I apologize if I brought up bad memories. But it wouldn't feel right if I didn't give you my condolences. As I said before, in my darkest times, I've always relied on the Lord as my rock. And I know you aren't much into it, but I had a little hope that you could take some solace in the Good Word today."

"I kinda did," Daryl admitted. And he sounded genuine. "I really appreciate you thinkin' 'bout me like that."

Merle continued sucking his teeth, slumping back in the chair with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, glaring at Hershel and Daryl. Beth wouldn't admit it, but she was taking a tiny pleasure in the fact that he was loathing the current conversation. She loved watching Daryl prove his dead brother wrong in every way imaginable by simply acting like a decent human being.

Then Hershel's eyes lit up. "Not to be pushy—and you can feel free to say no, I won't take any offense—but I've got a book that I think you might like. Since you mentioned learning from us. D'you enjoy reading, son?"

To Beth's surprise, Daryl nodded. "I do. Been tryin' to read at least one book a month this year. Mostly fiction. New thing I'm tryin', now that I actually got the time for it. My roommate's got a pretty extensive collection. And her kid loves Harry Potter, so I been gettin' into that a lot more'an I thought I would."

What? How had Beth not known this? She knew he'd been picking up Harry Potter because of Sophia, but she didn't know he was trying to read one book every month. It wasn't like she thought he was illiterate or stupid or anything, she just didn't take Daryl for the type to sit down and read novels. (But then again, she hadn't taken Merle for the type to sit down and read The Bible more than five times over.) Huh. She was learning something new about him every day. There was so much more lying underneath the rough exterior of Daryl Dixon than she could ever guess.

Hershel chuckled. At the sight of her dad's face, Beth knew where this conversation was going, and she almost wanted to stop him from making the same offer he made to nearly every new person who attended their church. He had a whole stack of books sitting upstairs in his room, just waiting to be handed out. But she didn't want to be rude and interrupt. And besides, maybe Daryl really would be interested? He certainly had a reason to care about what all that stuff in the Bible meant nowadays, after all. Maybe it would do him more good than it did for Merle. Or maybe not. Either way, a little more knowledge never hurt anyone.

Hershel grinned excitedly and asked, "Do you have any interest in the Bible? I know the sermons can be hard to follow if you're not familiar with the literature, but I've got this book that breaks it down into easy-to-read sections. If you read a small part each night before bed, you could get through the whole Bible in a year. And there's even a simple explanation on the meaning of what was written after each chapter, and some nice food for thought. There's also space to make notes of your own—you could jot down any questions you have, maybe your criticism or your thoughts, and then we could go over them every once in a while when you come to visit. Does that sound like somethin' you might be willing to try?"

Beth expected Daryl to tense up and get awkward, maybe stumble over a hesitant rejection. But he didn't. He just shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Sounds pretty interesting. Like a Bible Study kinda thing?"

Merle chuckled.

"Somethin' like that," Hershel said, grinning wider. "No obligations, of course. Feel free to take the book for yourself and keep it private. But if you'd like to go over it together every now and then, I'd love to pass on some knowledge." His grin faltered and he quickly added, "Don't say yes just to be polite, though. I've never been one to push my beliefs onto others, and I won't be offended if you decline. Everyone's got their own reasons and their own beliefs. I can respect that."

Daryl just shrugged again. He glanced over at Beth, then he responded, "Nah, that sounds nice. I'll give it a look. If I'm not interested, I'll jus' bring it back. Wouldn't hurt ta understand yer side of things a little better."

Merle laughed. "What the fuck? Really, Daryl? Bible Study? At yer age?!"

Hershel's grin returned, more eager and excited than ever. He turned to Beth and asked, "Doodlebug, would you run upstairs and grab one of the books from my room? You know where they are. You'll be a lot faster up and down those stairs than I will."

Beth nodded. "Sure, Daddy." She reached over and gave Daryl's arm a light squeeze before turning and heading for the stairs.

She wasn't sure why, but she felt really… happy right now. She'd already expected her dad to be a little more pushy when it came to Daryl, but she hadn't really known how Daryl would react. She didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, and she'd feared he would. But it seemed that he genuinely didn't mind. He appeared at ease with her father, almost eager to be welcomed into a new circle and offered basic kindness from a group of what were essentially strangers. And she already knew he'd meant it when he said he was trying to be more open-minded lately, because… well. What other choice did he have? Ever since he learned that his dead brother was haunting some farm girl he'd never met before, he kind of had to be open-minded to remain involved in such a situation.

Speak—or think—of the devil: Merle appeared behind her while she was rifling through the tote in her dad's bedroom closet and digging out one of the books he'd asked for.

"He ain't gonna read that shit," Merle said. "He's just bein' polite 'cause he respects yer old man."

Beth didn't even offer the dead Dixon a glance. She pulled out the book she'd been looking for and shoved the tote back into place before closing the closet door. "Just like I said earlier: maybe you should start raising the bar, Merle. Your brother isn't the same person he was when y'all were wreaking havoc all over Georgia. He's not even the same person he was before you died."

Merle scoffed. "Like you fuckin' know."

She ignored him. There was no convincing his stubborn ass. No point in wasting her breath.

"That book ain't gonna teach him a goddamn thing," he insisted. "Sure as shit didn't teach me nothin'. 'Cept how to not write a story. Considerin' all he's learned from our predicament, what the hell you think he's gonna get outta that old bullshit? Just makes everything all that much more complicated. Ain't gonna do nothin' 'cept put more questions in his head. And dear ol' daddy ain't gonna have no answer for 'em."

"Says you," Beth huffed. "And what do you know? Besides how to be dead?"

He sputtered with indignation as she quickly walked away, smirking to herself. Yeah, it was a low blow. But all Merle ever made were low blows. She could stoop to his level once in a while.

She heard low voices conversing quietly while she descended the stairs, but they quickly went silent as soon as she reached the bottom. She rounded the corner and returned to the kitchen, where she found Daryl and her dad standing exactly as she'd left them. Merle didn't reappear. Beth didn't notice how tense Daryl's shoulders were until she held out the book for him to take and looked up at him.

"Here ya go," she said with a meek smile, holding the book out in offering. "Brand new."

Daryl took it, wrapping both hands around it and holding it before him. "Thanks." He looked back to Hershel. "I'll give this a look tonight. Just finished what I was readin' a couple days ago, so it's good timing."

Hershel chuckled softly and nodded. "I'm eager to hear what you think. Don't hold back; if it's not for you, it's not for you. Won't hurt my feelings none."

Daryl grunted appreciatively and tucked the book into the crook of his arm, holding it almost like a security blanket as he wavered between Hershel and Beth. "I'll be sure to be honest with ya." He gave a half-smile and added, "Best be headin' out now. Call ya tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," Hershel agreed. "I'll be up by six at the latest, but you can leave a voicemail if I don't answer. I'll get back to ya by lunchtime."

"Sounds like a plan."

They shook hands once more and Beth thought it was over. She figured Daryl would turn and fast-walk towards the front door, leaving her and her dad alone. But instead, when he turned to leave, Hershel looked at her expectantly.

"Go on an' walk him out, sweetheart. Mind yer manners now."

She raised her eyebrows and glanced back to see Daryl pausing a few steps outside the kitchen. Without hesitation, she went after him.

As they walked out the front door together, she looked over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of her father climbing the stairs toward his bedroom, and he appeared more than ready for an afternoon nap.

to be continued…