Chapter 7

He made it to the house, stopped out front. He watched the front windows and saw movement. Merle was still awake. He could see his form moving around the living room. Stuffing his hands in his pockets he turned and walked on. He thought about grabbing the keys to his motorcycle but knew he'd end up in another confrontation with his brother. He huffed and started on down the sidewalk. He paid no attention to where he walked, instead focused on his breathing to calm down the swirling emotions he felt inside. He reached up and touched the cut above his eyebrow, feeling the butterfly bandage one of his coworkers applied. He scowled and walked on. His whole life it seemed Merle knew just what buttons to push and how. When Daryl was old enough and strong enough he started to fight back. Both men ending up bloodied after another skirmish. Why couldn't Merle just keep his mouth shut.

A car pulled up next to him, the window rolling down.

"Daryl." He heard his name and looked up to see Carol smiling at him for the third time that day.

"You following me?" He asked, his voice held a tinge of frustration.

"No, I'm not following you Daryl. It's just my lucky day I guess." She smiled.

Daryl grunted in response, and stood still avoiding eye contact.

"I'm going to pick up that tiller. Get in, you can help me pick one out." She was surprised at her boldness. She was even more surprised when he shook his head and started toward the car.

"Easier just to buy the vegetables at the damn store." He muttered, closing the car door harder than he meant to.

"Easier, maybe. But as satisfying? No." She responded as she turned toward the hardware store.

They walked in together, her heart fluttering, she enjoyed his company even when he was behaving surly.

"This one. This the right size for your yard. Make short work of you turning up the ground." Daryl pointed. He motioned for the store attendant and together they loaded it in the trunk and steadied the trunk with bungie cords.

Carol stood beside him and ran her hand down his arm. "Thanks for the help. You coming my way or am I taking you home?" She asked, her eyes twinkling.

Her touch sent shivers down his spine as her soft hand ran down his bare skin, then rested on his forearm. He looked down at her hand, and shrugged his arm away from her.

"I'm here ain't I." He answered, then turned and got back in the passenger seat. She watches him put his thumb nail up to his mouth. She'd seen him do this on and off, a nervous habit she assumed.

"Well okay." She answered, getting in the drivers seat and starting toward her home.

They rode in silence, but the silence was comfortable. Unlike when she rode with Ed. Those rides were often silent as well, but you could cut the tension with a knife. She pulled into her driveway. Daryl hopped out and made his way to the trunk. Carol stood back and watched as he undid the bungie cords and Daryl lifted the heavy machine into the grass.

"You know how to work one of these?" He asked, looking sideways at her, one eye squinted closed to the sun.

The word handsome danced through her brain as she looked at him. He broke the spell as he slammed the trunk closed.

"No. But I bet it came with an instruction book right?" She said, hoping that it had.

"Nah." He said, pushing the machine up into the yard. "Where you wantin this garden?"

"In the back corner of the yard, where the privacy fence is." She went toward the machine to take over pushing it where she wanted it.

"I got it." He said, moving past her. "Got gas for the thing?"

Carol turned and went to her small garage. She grabbed the small gas can she used for her push mower.

"Don't need it yet, but we might." He answered over his shoulder.

She walked to him and watched him look over the machine. He went over how to start it, and she waited for him to back away so she could start tilling. He didn't. Instead the machine road to life and he started tilling. She stood for a moment, trying to gain his attention. This was her project and she didn't want to look like she couldn't handle the job. He ignored her and had the job nearly half done within the hour. She saw the sweat drip done his forehead and he stopped to wipe his eyes with the bandana in his back pocket. She spun toward the house and went inside. She grabbed a sports bottle, smiled because it was pink with a large white flower on it. It belonged to Sophia and was the only one she owned. She filled it with ice water. She ran outside and tapped his shoulder, offering him a drink. He took the bottle from her hand and tilted the bottle, squirting the ice water into his mouth. He brought it down and wiped his mouth with his arm, then noticed the pink bottle. She saw him eye the bottle then raise his eye brow at her, shaking his head.

"Sorry. Only one we have. Can I take over here?" She asked, motioning toward the tiller. He stared at her for a moment, looked down, shook his head and started moving the tiller forward.

"I'm gonna start some lunch then." She said, stepping backwards away from him. She turned to tell him that she did not intend for him to do the work, that she was capable of doing it herself. She saw him then, looking at her, he smiled and nodded his head in her direction. She closed her mouth and headed toward the house stopping one more time to turn and look. She caught him looking at her again, but he quickly looked away. She laughed to herself as the butterflies began to dance again in her stomach.

She made homemade fried chicken, mashed potato's and her grandmother's recipe green beans with bacon pieces. She squeezed fresh lemonade and had the table laid out nicely.

She heard the roar of the engine die out. Then heard the screen door swing open. She watched him take his muddied boots off at the door and saw the dirt hand print he left on the white trim.

"Sorry. Got dirt everywhere. Just gonna wash up a bit." He said, nodding toward her restroom.

"Lunch is ready when you're done." She smiled, watching the dirt fall off the boots that sat on the floor.

She heard him leave the bathroom, and felt goosebumps run up over her arms.

"Smells good." Daryl said as he made his way into the kitchen.

"Well, let's hope it tastes good. You like fried chicken I hope?" She started to serve his plate.

"Mmm. Thank you." He said as she heaped his plate full of mashed potato's, fried chicken and green beans. He dug in before she had her own plate ready.

"Well, got it dug up real good. Should be simple to plant now. You thought about what you gonna grow out there?" He asked between spoonfulls of potato's. "You're getting a late start so gotta take that into consideration."

"Not too late though. I was thinking of planting some herbs, lettuce, tomato's, cucumbers. Do you like pickles? I make the best pickles, my grandmother taught me the perfect recipe." She smiled as she watched him shovel in the last of his mashed potato's. "You need more? There's more."

He nodded yes, and took a drink of lemonade. "Wow, this real lemonade?" He asked blinking up at her.

"Squeezed it myself." She smiled, walking toward him with the pot and the last of the potato's.

"Your Grandmother's recipe?" He joked.

"Nope. Mine and Sophia's. We worked on perfecting it. Sweet with a touch of sour. How's the chicken?" She smiled, the smile meeting her eyes.

"Sophia's a good kid. Seems like ya'll make a good pair. How old is she?" He drank the last of his lemonade and watched as Carol refilled it, this time without asking.

"She's four. And we do. We do make a good team. I miss her." This time he watched as her face fell and a look of worry covered her features.

"You worried he gonna hurt her?" He asked quietly.

"He never really went after her before. But I was there, you know, he would focus on me. Now, it's just her." She found herself hugging her body tightly with her arms.

"Saw that tree house you working on in the back yard. What if we finish it. Then when she gets back home she sees it all done?" He asked, nodding his head toward the tree house they had started.

"I appreciate the offer, but Sophia wants to be part of building it. She loves to hold the boards while I nail them in. She loves to be a part of things." Carol smiled, thinking of the hours they'd invested together in the tree house.

Daryl shook his head in quiet understanding. Carol felt the tears come to her eyes as she thought about her little girl alone all weekend with that monster she used to be married to. She began to fill the sink to wash the dishes, and hurriedly wiped her eyes, hoping he didn't notice. She picked up her glass to wash it in the sink, then jumped back as it slipped from her grasp. The glass hit the edge of the sink and shattered, one of the pieces slicing into her finger. It all happened so fast. Daryl was next to her in a minute, glass on the floor and in the water, blood running down her index finger.

"Hold up, I gotcha." He said. "Here, watch the glass." He said lifting her easily and sitting her on top of the table. "Let me see it." He reached out to her hand. "Gotta piece of glass in there, we gonna have to get it out."

Carol pulled back as he squeezed her finger. "Ow!" She said sharply.

"Come on now, don't be a baby. We gotta get it out of there." He said releasing the pressure he had put on her finger.

"I'm not a baby. It hurts Daryl. Don't call me a baby." She argued.

He raised his eyebrows in return. She found herself forgetting the pain as she became lost in the deep blue that his eyes held. "Ya done?" He smiled, him staring into her eyes as well.

She nodded in response, but did not break eye contact. He took her hand in his again, holding her gaze, she jumped and flinched as he squeezed hard, pushing the glass out of her finger.

"Ouch!" She cried, as he released her hand. She jumped off the table and stood in front of him. "That really hurt!" She said, sticking her bleeding finger into her mouth.

"We got it." He smiled. "Hold up." He said as he made his way to the sink grabbing a dishtowel, then he got ice out of the freezer. He took her hand and flattened the cloth to her finger. "Hold it tight to stop the bleedin. You're okay."

He walked to the small pantry grabbing the broom and dustpan. He swept up the remaining glass and carefully removed the shards from the sink. He put the supplies away and turned back toward her. He noticed her eyes shone with unshed tears.

"What's wrong? It get you somewhere else?" He asked, concern in his eyes.

She shrugged her shoulders and turned away from him. A small sound escaped her lips. He could tell she was on the verge of sobbing.

"You hurt?" He walked to her, placing a gentle hand on her elbow. He turned her toward him. "You hurt?" He whispered.

"I'm not hurt. I'm not." He continued holding her elbow gently and searching her face. "It's just that I was with Ed for so long. If I dropped a glass or cut myself he would hit me or laugh at me. If I needed something done around the house he'd yell and scream and call me names. He'd accuse me of breaking things on purpose. He'd call me worthless. I'd have to do everything on my own. And now, you. I run over you with my car, almost killed you and you fix my car for free and my garbage disposal, your nice to my daughter and now all of this. I just….." She began to cry then and turned away in embarrassment.

Daryl stood silently watching the woman in front of him break down. He knew how she felt. Knew how it felt to be so horribly mistreated, to wonder why she was never good enough, to have to do everything alone. He wasn't good at this though. Wasn't good with emotions. He stood silently, unsure of what he should do for her. He wanted to take it all away, to make her feel better. He wanted none of what had happened to her to have ever happened to her.

"Now look at me. I'm a blubbering idiot. I don't even know what to say. I'm sorry Daryl. You can go. I got it from here. Thank you. Thank you for everything. I understand that you won't want to see me again, I'm damaged goods. So just go." She said, tears still streaming down her cheeks.

Daryl turned to leave. His brain screaming run, get out of here. You ain't ready for all this. He felt his legs move to the front door. He bent down to put his boot on, but saw the fallen off clumps of dirt all around the front door. He set his boot back down.

He heard her in the kitchen, the water running, plates clinking and cabinets banging. He looked to the side and saw Sophia's room, her bed med in princess pink sheets and a name plate above her bed. He smiled at the little rag doll that lay on her pillow. He stood, and slowly walked toward the kitchen. He watched from the doorway as she washed the dishes, pausing to wipe the tears from her cheeks. He stepped beside her, grabbed a towel and started to dry what was there.

"Daryl." She said, a hint of exasperation in her voice.

"I wanna stay." He said quietly, surprising even himself. "With you. I wanna stay here with you."

She stopped what she was doing and met his eyes with her own. She searched his face, seeing kindness and strength. She handed him the washed dish, holding his gaze, and he began to dry it, blue eyes staring into blue eyes.

When the dishes were complete, dried and put away they stood in awkward silence.

"How about a movie? You want to watch a movie with me in the living room?" Carol asked quietly.

Daryl smiled slightly and nodded his head yes. He followed her into the living room. She clicked on the tv and he sat down on the couch. She sat next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. He took in the scent of her hair, his side tingling as her body seemed to melt against his. They locked eyes, she tilted her head up toward him just so. The rest of the movie was a blur as their mouths met in first a small kiss, then much more. Night fell around them, the tiller forgotten in the yard. It all felt natural, no hesitation, no guilt, no fear. The two enjoyed eachother's company, curled up on the sofa, finally sleeping until the sun rose high in the sky the next morning.