March 29, 2011
While it doesn't surprise Merle one bit that Sophia tends to follow him around like a duckling when Shane is otherwise busy, the fact that Beth joins her more often than not is surprising. Then again, he has to remember that neither of the Greene sisters ever saw him at his absolute worst, and Beth is close enough to Daryl that she's practically an honorary Dixon these days.
The hunt has taken them out on a wide arc away from the property on foot. Both girls following him today have knit hats tucked over their brightly dyed hair. At a glance, they almost pass for boys, Sophia a little more than Beth by virtue of less delicate features. Merle can never forget the day Sophia got snatched, so he always keeps his hunting trails far from easy access areas like desolate neighborhoods.
The rough woods are where the best game is anyway, and even old clearings are being overtaken without man to keep them cleared back. Today they're following an abandoned logging road, keeping an eye out for signs of larger game, but in reality, it's more bird and squirrel hunting. No one's in desperate need of meat back home, but practice with hunting is never something to turn down.
"You know, the slingshot is almost better than the bow," Sophia mutters to Beth as the older girl nails a ruffed grouse disturbed by the minimal noise and movement of the trio.
Beth smirks at Sophia, field dressing the grouse with efficient movements that make Merle remember Daryl at the same age. She adds the finished product to her game bag.
"Slingshot is worlds better than the bow for small game like that, Spitfire," Merle says, scanning for any other sign of movement.
"Because the arrow's tip causes more damage?"
"Exactly." Merle tips his head to the left. "Got a cardinal watching us from the little sweet gum tree over there."
Both girls look, spotting the bright red plumage easily. Beth smiles, tilting her head and whistling. It catches the bird's attention immediately, and Merle is pretty damn impressed at how close it is to an actual cardinal's call.
"Mama always said seeing a cardinal means someone was visiting you from heaven."
Merle heard that phrase from many an older Southern lady, so it's not surprising that Beth's mama told the same tale. Drawing from Daryl's fascination with Native American legends, he offers them a different idea. "The Choctaw thought they were matchmakers. There's a story about Red Bird leading a brave and a maiden together because both were lonely."
"Could be both." Sophia shrugs when they both look her way. "Wouldn't it be nice if someone could visit and lead their loved ones to find someone special, right?"
"Yeah, it would." Beth sounds wistful before she whistles again. The cardinal listens for a minute before flitting off into the trees.
They turn back to hunting, and by the time they've filled all their game bags, they're over three miles from home. Sharing a lunch of portable leftovers on a creek bank gives them a bit of a rest, but the girls are both the durable sort, not complaining a bit on the long walk back. Carol welcomes the game, whisking it away and shooing them toward washing up.
The girls wander off to other tasks, leaving Merle to think of the way Beth watched the little songbird. He's seen cardinals around, but if there's a feeder, he knows they can be enticed closer, so he heads off to his woodshop. By the time everyone returns home for supper, he's got a sturdy bird feeder built and set up, filled with birdseed he lifted from the food stored for the ever-growing flock of chickens that Eastman has on his property.
"That'll be pretty to watch from the kitchen window," Carol tells him as she stands at the top of the steps on the back deck. She's smiling so approvingly at Merle that he wants to squirm like he's been caught at some mischief. "Bet the smaller kids wouldn't mind doing some ornithology study from the deck, either."
"Didn't really think about the kiddies, but yeah. I could probably do up a lesson for them to go along with some of those field guides. Not everything has to be about animals they can eat." Studying his handiwork, Merle nods to himself. If birds get enticed to the feeder, maybe it'll make birdwatching an easier task than having to wait for birds to randomly flutter to a perch somewhere nearby.
Hefting the leftover birdseed, he pours it into a big plastic tub and seals the lid, carrying it up on the porch where it'll be easy access for anyone to refill the feeder. Looking toward Carol, he realizes she's holding a scrap of paper in her hands. "Whatcha got there, Mouse?"
She smiles at the nickname but doesn't pass the paper over. At a closer look, he realizes it's an ultrasound print. The mental math reminds him it's the right time for that sort of thing. Long as she looks happy, it's got to be all good news. "Did y'all find out if it's a boy or a girl?"
"It's a girl."
Maybe that's why she isn't just passing the ultrasound over, waiting to see what he thinks of a new little girl Dixon in the world. "Let me get a gander at her then."
There's no indication of gender on the image, which is the baby in full profile. Merle runs a finger along the outline of the nose and smiles. "Never saw one of these with Jewel. Think she's gonna look like you, like Spitfire does."
"I don't think there's that much detail there," Carol responds, obviously amused. "You can keep that copy if you want. Denise gave me extras."
Huh. It's a kindness he hadn't expected, so Merle tucks the image into his shirt pocket and slings an arm around Carol's shoulders for a half-hug, thanking her. "Supper about ready?"
He lets Carol lead him inside as the reality slowly settles in his mind that they've truly broken the generations-long streak of Dixons only producing boys. It's a damn good thing in his opinion, because if his newest niece is anything like his daughter was, the world's ten times fucking better for having female Dixons in it.
After Amanda made it abundantly clear that their liaison was going to last more than the one time, Merle gave the woman a key to the downstairs door. No point in her having to break out her lockpick set every time she visits, since she obviously isn't going to parade herself through the house upstairs. She's only stayed the night a handful of times in the past three weeks, tending to prefer to shower and return home for the most part.
It's a pattern that works out well for them both. They're civil in public, and he is just ornery enough still to be amused that no one would easily put two and two together. Maybe Denise, but that's because she's in charge of medical supplies, which is what condoms are still currently classified as. But the doctor only shrugged and passed him the signout sheet when he asked, with no more interest than a convenience store clerk in the past.
He's glad he's out of the shower first and at least half dressed when he gets an unexpected visitor. Unlike Amanda, Olivia comes down the stairs, calling his name as politely as everyone else who passes through Carol's domain to get to his. Merle grabs a shirt, tugging it on and meeting Olivia halfway down the hall.
"Everything okay?" he asks, concerned because Olivia is probably one of the last women in the community he'd expect to come looking for him after dark, and he knows beyond a doubt it wouldn't be for the reason Amanda's here.
She skims her gaze over his tank top, sweatpants, and missing prosthetic, seeming to blush at his bare feet for some reason. "I'm sorry. I know it's late, but Enid's distraught, and I thought maybe you could fix it?"
When she brings her hands up, Merle realizes she's holding the pieces of a little treasure box of sorts, like he often teaches new woodworkers to make. He doesn't recognize the design, and the wood has a patina that tells him it's older than anything made here. Some sort of personal keepsake for Enid, most likely.
Going to snag his prosthetic off the bedside table, he fits it into place and returns to Olivia. Taking the box, he examines the damage. "Did it get dropped?"
"Yeah. Enid must have fallen asleep with it on the bed last night, and it got between the bed and the wall. She was changing the sheets and it got flung into the floor."
Anything bigger, Merle might have to put boots on to go to his woodshop, but small as this is, he should be able to figure out a repair with the tools in the basement workshop he keeps for smaller projects when he can't sleep. He motions for Olivia to follow him. Taking a seat after retrieving the tools and wood glue he'll need, he takes an even closer look at the box.
"Wood isn't damaged, but it jarred everything apart. The original wood glue was probably applied too lightly. Won't take long to reassemble it, if you want to watch, but it'll need to sit overnight for the glue to cure. I can bring it down when I come visit Judy in the morning."
He's already setting pieces together, so he doesn't notice Olivia is distracted until he hears Amanda clear her throat behind him. Turning, he takes a moment to admire that Amanda is wearing nothing but a towel that only just covers enough not to scandalize their visitor. Her hair is dripping along her shoulders, so he's guessing she isn't done with her shower if she doesn't have her hair twirled up in a second towel.
"Need something?" he asks, surprised she stepped into the room with a visitor downstairs.
"Wanted to see if you could ask Carol for a spare bottle of shampoo? I didn't remember mine was out last night." Amanda waggles the bottle, one that's been on the shelf in his shower since this all started and she realized he doesn't use shampoo. No need, as short as his hair is.
"She's got her spare stock down here, actually." Merle gets up from his stool and goes to rummage in the shelving area where Carol stores spare everything. Woman is more of a packrat than anyone he's ever met, but he can't blame her. "Vanilla scented or coconut?"
Amanda grimaces, making Merle laugh at her. Her shampoo had been damn near unscented, which he found he liked. "Vanilla, I guess. It'll fade faster, and I sure as hell don't want to smell like I'm off to the beach for spring break."
He tosses her the appropriate bottle, which she catches easily before turning and disappearing back down the hall.
Remembering his visitor, Merle turns back to Olivia. Her expression is stuck between embarrassed and intrigued as she fidgets, adjusting her glasses.
"I'm sorry. I didn't even think about you having… company."
Merle shrugs as he settles back onto his stool and gets back to the project at hand. "I'd have told you if it was a problem, and she sure wouldn't have walked in if it bothered her for you to see her here."
Embarrassment loses out to curiosity, which he has to admit he finds far prettier than her usual anxiety, and Olivia takes a seat on one of the spare stools. "This is why you stopped griping about matchmaking when you visit Lori, isn't it? Does Carol know?"
Chuckling, Merle shakes his head. "No. Haven't brought it up to Carol yet, as neither me nor Amanda figure on shacking up anytime soon."
Or ever, but he's found if you admit to a soft-hearted woman that you're just fucking around, they tend to either get offended or feel sorry for you. Carol's not likely to get mad, but she also might forget he's mostly looked after himself for over fifty years and go stalk Amanda for an unneeded shovel talk.
"I actually thought maybe Carol was trying to fix you and Lori up, and you were going along with it, to be honest."
Merle snorts, shaking his head. "She tried. I set her straight. Lori's my friend, and that's all either of us want out of that."
He's glad they managed a friendship, because after his behavior at the quarry camp, Lori was well within her rights to tell him to keep his distance. The cradle had been a peace offering that had more impact than he expected.
"Is it because of the baby?"
The question makes Merle pause in his work to look up. Olivia seems genuinely concerned, although he's not sure if it's on Lori's behalf or his. He hasn't forgotten that Olivia was in the room when he told Lori about Jewell. He shakes his head.
"Nah. Judy would be a good reason, not one to avoid it. Lori and me…" Merle sighs, trying to find the right words. "You ever meet someone and just understand they need a buddy more than anything in the world? Someone that'll have their back come hell or high water?"
It's hard to express, even for someone who normally considers himself skilled and eloquent even when he's being a crude bastard. There's an art to profanity and insults, just as with sweeter speech, after all. Lori might not inspire his paternal instincts like Michonne does, but the feeling is close enough to how Merle feels for Daryl to recognize it as protectively familial.
"I guess. You see her like a sister or something?"
"Close enough."
Olivia falls quiet but keeps fiddling with her glasses while she watches him work, until finally, he frowns as he clamps the box securely to let the glue dry.
"Something wrong with your glasses?"
She startles at the question, sighing and taking them off to glare at them. "One of the earpieces is wearing out. They keep sort of sliding sideways."
"Let me take a look."
Taking the eyewear when she hands them over readily, he takes note that the plastic frames probably should have been replaced well before the dead were walking. Whether it was finances or comfort that kept her in the old frames, he doesn't know. The problem now is that he doesn't think they're repairable.
"Bad news is that you're right. Screw is trying to come loose, but I'm guessing you've replaced it a few times since you got them."
She nods and sighs. "I hate getting new frames. They never seem to fit the same as the older pair. And now? I can't even replace the lenses if they break. Complaining about the wobbly frames just seems picky."
"How well can you see without them?" Merle's not sure he wants to consider the complication if Olivia is as blind as a bat without her glasses. Lenscrafting sure as hell is a specialized skill, and he doubts they're going to trip over a stray ophthalmologist or optician anytime soon.
"I'm not legally blind or anything, and I could drive as long as it wasn't at night. But you certainly wouldn't want me trying to shoot a gun."
In their world, that alone is alarming to Merle. He ponders a solution, but it's just a temporary one. "For now, I can just superglue the screw in place. But I'll talk to Michonne about doing a supply raid. Pretty sure these style frames are common enough that maybe we can find a match to transfer the lenses into."
"Y'all don't need to go to all that trouble…" She cuts herself off when he scoffs, but he's glad to see there's none of the flinching she used to do around him.
"There's always gonna be some shit we overlooked in squirreling away things. And we got at least two kids here with glasses, so it needs to be a priority sooner rather than later. You just happen to need it first, but it means none of the kids will be stuck without their glasses for days if something breaks."
Olivia smiles, the solemn expression lost to the relaxed, prettier one that's caught his attention before, and Merle responds instinctively with one of his own. She's a good-looking woman, which he's noticed since he first met her, but she tries to hide great curves behind oversized clothing and attractive features by scraping her long hair back. If she weren't so damned gunshy… he stops that thought right where it starts.
Busying himself with fixing the glasses, he does let himself wonder if it really would be that bad to tell the woman he thinks she's one of the prettiest women in the community. She'd likely think he's full of shit, like he's been accused of before on the rare occasion he openly admired a woman like Olivia. Hell, even when he hadn't been an asshole, a combination of his reputation for fucking around, if a woman knew him, and just his general redneck rough appearance, if a woman didn't, usually led to some fairly spectacular rejections.
Passing the glasses back to Olivia, he cautions her, "Might still be iffy for about ten minutes or so. Might avoid folding them closed when you take them off to reduce wear."
She settles the glasses on her face, oval frames accenting her face nicely, and nods, smiling brightly. "I'll see you after breakfast then?"
"Yeah. You good walking back?" As secure as the property is, Merle knows it's safe, but it is still after dark in a rural area."
"I rode my bike up, so I'm good."
He's seen her pedaling the sturdy cruiser bicycle around the community, usually with a trailer behind it to haul small supplies from storage to wherever they're needed, so he figures she knows her limits. At the stairs, she glances back at him, looking like she might say something else. In the end, she just gives him an awkward wave and disappears. He flips the workshop light off and heads for the bedroom.
Surprisingly, Amanda's stretched out on the bed, dressed in a white t-shirt and another pair of those peekaboo panties she favors. She's reading, but he thinks it's a bit of a ruse, especially when she closes the book and smirks at him.
"And here I thought Carol's campaign to get you hitched was hopeless? Started to think I should bail out the window. You should see how you look at her."
Merle scoffs, going to detach his prosthetic again and set it up for the night. He shouldn't be surprised that Amanda spied on them. "Don't even start. Woman like her deserves someone better than me."
It's easier to have this physical thing with Amanda, because she shares a certain brittle steel in her personality with Merle. She's street smart, has experience with addicts, and didn't freak out when he had a nightmare about that fucking Atlanta roof the first night she stayed over. He can't ask Olivia to take on his issues.
"Maybe that should be her choice?"
It's said so quietly and thoughtfully that Merle turns and studies Amanda. She seems utterly sincere, and he has to marvel that she's somehow dropped all the barriers she had toward him even after they started fucking around.
"I'm starting to think Carol's contagious," he grumbles, glad when she lets it drop.
Amanda stays the night, but there's a different quality to it. Merle lies awake and tries not to dwell on how much it feels like a goodbye.
A/N: I almost made y'all wait another chapter to confirm the pairing, but... While I did consider Lori, thought it over in detail, the family tree is already a tangled hedge. I'll save that pairing for another time.
Agewise, Olivia's actress (Ann Mahoney) was 35 in 2011, but I'm aiming for her age when she actually did the show in 2015.