AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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"Oh! Look at all these blessings! So many beautiful blessings!" Jo declared, welcoming them inside one at a time with a hard hug for each of them. It was an unspoken rule between them all that nobody advanced through the door until Jo was done getting and giving the loving that she always seemed to deem necessary when inviting people into her home.

Now, in addition to a regular hug, she also had to warmly pat and admire both Andrea's belly—which Andrea jokingly said was large enough to house two or even three Dixons—and Carol's belly. Carol could practically feel the affection that transferred from the woman's touch to her own body, and she liked to imagine that their little Pea Baby was already aware, somehow, of all the love that surrounded it.

"Grandma Jo or Granny Jo?" Jo asked when she wrapped her arms around Sophia and enthusiastically kissed the little girl's face. Papa Hershel had been easy enough to settle on, but Jo had given Sophia choices—names to try out until she landed on one that she liked.

"Granny Jo?" Sophia asked.

Jo smiled at her.

"Does it feel good to you?" She asked. Sophia nodded and Jo hugged her tightly again. "Then it sounds perfect to me. Why don't you go out the back door? Papa Hershel's out at the barns."

Sophia didn't need to be told twice, and she didn't feel the need to ask for further permission. She darted through the house, avoiding the small swarm of bodies, to head for the less crowded back door. Carol appreciated that Sophia felt bold enough to take Granny Jo and Papa Hershel's permission as all the permission she needed in their home—especially when it was for something as simple as going to help feed some of the animals that would need a little care before Hershel's attention was occupied by family for the majority of the day.

They were Sophia's newly adoptive grandparents in spirit. She didn't know it yet, but her adoption papers had come. Unfortunately, though, their ties to her were no less honorary than they had been before. They had no biological ties, after all, to most of the people that they called family.

Biology didn't matter much, though, and it certainly didn't matter to Sophia. Carol was happy to simply see her daughter blossoming and fully accepting her new family—a family with which Carol could feel comfortable entrusting her daughter when such a thing was necessary.

The house was crowded, but it was Thanksgiving and that was a "family affair." That meant that, while everyone was invited, most people didn't come unless they were either very close to the Greene family or had nowhere else to go, themselves, to celebrate the holiday. Still, the house was overflowing as the Greenes' own children, Beth and Maggie, were present with their significant others—Glenn, who was a full patched member of the MC and a young man named Jimmy who was just starry-eyed enough that Carol was certain his name would be coming up at Court soon enough to get a Prospect's patch. In addition, of course, Daryl and Merle, their families, Alice and Sadie, and Teeter were all there.

It was the final addition, who slipped through the door while Carol was helping Jo to ice a cake, that surprised Carol the most.

Carol had never really seen Negan in an entirely non-club related situation. He looked different. He looked like he'd made a conscious effort to look different. He'd shaved the stray hairs from his face, and he'd shortened his beard and mustache from where his hair had begun to get overgrown with a little less attention to details while he'd been focused on the hotel. His hair was styled. His shirt and jeans—though nothing formal—were clean and may have even been pressed. Even his cut and the jacket he wore over it seemed to have been cleaned up for the occasion.

He smiled sincerely when he stepped through the door into the kitchen, almost sheepishly and like he wasn't sure he was supposed to be there, and his eyes landed on Jo who was busy arranging rolls in a breadbasket.

"Is there room for one more debauched sinner at the dinner table?" Negan said, his voice drawing Jo's attention away from the bread. She turned, clearly as surprised as Carol had been when she'd first realized it was Negan climbing off the latest bike to be parked in the back yard, and she smiled broadly. She opened her arms to him and hugged him the same as she had hugged everyone else that Carol had seen pass through the door.

"Only if he's you!" Jo declared.

Negan smiled, too, as he wrapped his arms around the tiny framed woman. The way he buried his face against her shoulder suggested a familiarity that made Carol divert her eyes for a moment to focus on smoothing the icing off on top of the cake. She wished she could gracefully give them some privacy for this obviously emotional reunion.

"Let me look at you," Jo declared.

"You can't say I've grown," Negan said with a laugh.

"Oh—but you have," Jo said.

"Maybe from eating too much of the good food that Mouse dishes out every day."

Hearing herself mentioned, Carol's face immediately grew warm and she became overly aware of her presence in the room. Still, Negan was speaking about her in a positive manner, and in a tone of voice that made her feel warm instead of slightly irritated. She glanced at him. The same sincere smile he'd been wearing earlier was still present, and he winked at her playfully before turning his attention back to Jo who was fussing over him by smoothing her hands over his arms.

"There are ways to grow, Negan, that aren't exactly visible to the eye," Jo offered. "And you're here. That's all that matters. Your Daddy would be pleased."

Negan's smile fell and something else flashed across his features. He seemed to actually chew on it for a moment and then he nodded his head.

"Where's the old man at?" He asked.

"He'll be outside," Jo said. "With Sophia. You know how he loves the little ones and, by now, she's probably suckered him into taking someone on a short ride around the field."

Negan smiled at that.

"Dipper still around? That asshole donkey?"

Jo shook her head.

"I'm afraid Dipper left us years ago," Jo said. "You always did get along with him so well."

"He liked apples," Negan said. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced one. "And I always happened to have one around when I visited."

"I think you'll find that there are plenty out there who like apples," Jo said. "Did you come alone?"

"You know I did," Negan said. Carol diverted her eyes again, pretending to perfect the icing on the cake and wishing, somehow, she had the ability to blend into her surroundings like an actual chameleon. "Andrea said—you might have a candle to light for her?"

"You know I do," Jo said. "Every year. Just before we say grace."

"I'd like to light it," Negan said.

"You will. You'll light them this year for all the Mabrys that can't be with us except in memory and spirit." Negan hummed his acceptance of Jo's plan. "You know—we're happy to have you here."

"I'm—happy to be here," Negan said.

"It's where you belong," Jo said.

Negan laughed quietly.

"Someone else told me that," he said. "Not too long ago."

"She would've wanted it," Jo said. "She always did love the holidays."

"She doesn't want too much these days, Miss Jo," Negan said. Carol heard his voice catch and she imagined herself, somehow, fading more into the background and blending with the kitchen cabinets and walls.

"You're right," Jo said. "She doesn't. No matter what happened? Now she knows a peace that the rest of us can only imagine now. You can take some comfort in that."

"Maybe you can," Negan said. "But—she shoulda had another—sixty years."

"I won't deny that," Jo assured him. "But none of us knows how long we have. What's important is what we do with what we have. And Lucy—she lived her life well. Well enough to leave a lot of people who loved her, and to have loved them well when she was here. She wouldn't want you to be alone forever, though. You know that. You do her memory a disservice, Negan, by allowing it to separate you from your family…and from your happiness."

"I made it to dinner," Negan said.

"And that's a start," Jo assured him. Without looking in their direction, Carol could hear Jo's smile. "Why don't you go out back? I'm sure someone out there would be glad to take that apple off your hands. And you can tell Hershel and Sophia it's time to head back to the barn—dinner will be on soon."

Negan disappeared out of the kitchen and Carol quietly fussed with the already iced cake until she felt that enough silence had passed to make it OK for her to reintroduce herself into full existence.

"I think the cake is ready," she said. "It's probably not as nice as if you'd iced it, but…"

She felt Jo's hands squeeze the upper part of her arms from behind. Jo moved her out of the way and patted her shoulder.

"It looks just beautiful," she assured her. "Even better because I didn't have to do it all myself. Now—you'll help me get everything from the pots into the serving bowls, won't you?"

Carol enjoyed being needed. She enjoyed feeling like she was, in some way, contributing something to this family—her family. She enthusiastically started to transfer food from the heavy pots to the serving dishes that had been laid out for taking food to the dining room table that Andrea had been setting with holiday dishes out of Jo's china closet.

"These boys'll wear you out," Jo commented, as much to herself as to Carol.

"But you love it…" Carol said.

"They always say it takes a special woman to be an old lady," Jo said. She laughed to herself. "The truth of it is, they'll drive you to feeling like an old lady long before your time. At least—some days. The thing about boys is—even when they grow up to be men? They're still boys. Even Hershel, bless his heart, is nothing but an overgrown child with arthritis, cataracts, and a front row seat to play Santa Clause in the town Christmas parade."

She laughed at her own joke and Carol laughed too.

"We still love them," Carol said.

"We can't help that. Not if we really love them. They capture your heart. And, if you're lucky, they never really break it. Or—if they do—they only break it accidentally, and they show up with duct tape and chicken wire to try to help you put it back together again."

"You've been with Hershel forever…"

Jo smiled softly.

"Long enough it seems like the time without Hershel didn't hardly really happen."

"Have you had your heart broken?"

"More times than I can count," Jo said. "Hershel—he's a good man. But he's just a man, at the end of the day, and men are clumsy when it comes to fragile things like hearts. In the club—they all become your family, if you let them. I've loved so many of them. In different ways of course. There are a lot of ways to love, and a lot of ways for a heart to get broken." She sighed. "Even today—Teeter breaks my heart."

"Is he not doing well?"

"Physically he's fine. I guess—I'm still getting to know who he is now, you know? I keep—forgetting that I can't expect him to be who he was. Maybe I'm mourning who he was, just a little. Who I was when—when I knew him as a young man."

"It's hard to imagine Teeter as a young man," Carol admitted.

Jo smiled very sincerely.

"Oh—you would've liked him. He was a rascal. He could charm just about anyone, and every woman in practically the whole state wanted to be his old lady."

"Except you?"

"I already loved Hershel," Jo said. "And Teeter only loved Wilma. He might've—well, I won't say he behaved well, and he certainly was the farthest thing from a saint there is. But love? Teeter only really loved Wilma." She sighed again and washed her hands in the kitchen sink. She passed the towel over to Carol, practically absentmindedly, after she'd dried them. "I guess the one benefit to having had so many of these boys break my heart is knowing that I've had a space for each of them—and love for each of them—in my heart." She sighed again and laughed to herself, shaking her head. "These boys…" she mused again. "But you'll see. You love Daryl. And when you open your heart as big as you can…as big as you will with the passing of time? You'll love the rest of them for who they are. And you'll never get it back. And you'll never be the same again."

"I'm looking forward to it," Carol said, realizing that it was true.

"I'm sure you are," Jo said. Her eyes drifted to Carol's belly and, overcome for a moment as she sometimes was, she immediately cupped the small proof of their growing little one with both her hands in an affectionate caress.

Carol smiled, drinking in the warmth of the sincere touch.

"What about the girls, Miss Jo?" Carol asked.

"Hmm?" Jo asked.

"You say a lot about the boys and…how they'll break your heart. But what about the girls?"

Jo laughed to herself and squeezed Carol's arm.

"Oh—the girls? They're even worse. As Hershel says—the whole lot of them are angels with just a little bit of hellfire burning in their veins. But they have to be that way…"

Carol laughed.

"To handle the boys?" Carol asked.

Jo smiled at her as confirmation.

"You grab the potatoes, and I'll get the greens. We're gonna send Merle in here to get that turkey platter. It's too heavy, and these boys have to be good for something."