Seeing The Unseen
When Rick pulled up the driveway to Beth's house, it was already half past ten and all the windows were dark. Her dad had left the porchlight on for her, though.
"Alrigh', get some sleep, Beth," Rick said, turning in his seat to look back at her with a warm smile. "I'll text ya tomorrow after lunch, before I leave the station."
She gathered up her shopping bags and smiled back. "Okay, sounds good." Reaching out and grabbing the door handle, she paused, catching Daryl's eyes in the rearview mirror. "And uh, Daryl—d'you wanna meet up tomorrow after you get off work? To work out a plan?"
The living Dixon turned his head and looked back at her over his shoulder, nodding. "Yeah, I was 'bout ta suggest that. I'll give ya a call after work."
For reasons unknown, her stomach fluttered and she couldn't stop her smile from growing a little wider. "Okay." With one last parting glance to Rick, she bid the men goodbye. "Well, I'll see y'all tomorrow. Thanks again, Rick."
"Don't mention it." He looked over at Daryl with a wry grin. "It was more'an worth it t'see Daryl in all them fancy get-ups."
Beth opened the back door and exited the car just as Daryl cursed at the Sheriff and punched him in the arm, and when she shut the door behind her, she could still hear Rick's—and Merle's—laughter.
She smiled to herself all the way up to the front door.
Once inside the big, quiet farmhouse, she found a small lamp in the entryway left on for her, but everything else was dark and silent. Her dad and brother were fast asleep in their bedrooms, so she made sure to creep up the stairs and into her own room as quietly as possible. Merle didn't follow her in, so she assumed he'd remained hanging out in the backseat of Rick's Hyundai. Or he'd gone to torture Shane Walsh some more. Either way, she wasn't going to complain about getting a few moments alone.
Just for the hell of it, she pulled out the costume pieces she'd bought and tried them on once again, along with the shoes. Then she inspected herself in the mirror, turning this way and that, walking across the room and back to test out the heels.
That feeling of dread that had formed in her gut in the parking lot of the costume store was still present, but it almost felt dormant. If she didn't allow herself to picture The Governor's face or try and imagine what to expect at the party, she could focus on all the other aspects—like dressing up in fancy clothes with Daryl and maybe… possibly… finally ending this conundrum once and for all, which would mean being free of Merle Dixon.
Yet, tonight, something felt different. When her mind locked onto the thought of ridding herself of Merle—of never seeing him again, never hearing his voice, never having to endure his obnoxious comments—she suddenly felt the slightest bit… sad.
Had she unexpectedly become attached to the dead redneck that had been haunting her for the last week and a half? Had the insufferable Merle Dixon actually managed to get under her skin? In the way that an annoyingly crass—but essentially well-meaning—uncle or brother could?
Or was she just afraid that helping Merle cross over meant losing her connection to Daryl?
She decided it was just late, and her mind was on overdrive, and her heart was being torn in too many different directions. She just needed some sleep.
She was sure that she'd have a clearer head in the morning.
While Beth slept, she dreamt. Though it was nothing like any dream she'd had before.
Everything was vivid and clear. She was standing on a dock, hidden away in the long shadows cast by the light of dozens of lanterns. A large ship loomed nearby, rocking gently on the water. It was the middle of the night, and the full moon was high in the sky. She could smell the salty ocean air. She could feel the dampness on her skin, through her clothes. The sounds of several pairs of feet moving up and down the wooden dock filled her ears, along with the lapping of waves against the shore and the creaking and moaning of the ship. Faint voices called to each other from somewhere in the nearby distance.
And standing before her, weathered old hands clutching her own, was Florence Newton. Though she looked different—like she belonged here.
Beth quickly realized that the body she was inhabiting was not her own. She glanced down and saw an old-timey cloak and dress shrouding her form. And her pregnant belly was protruding outward. She could feel the tiny life inside squirming around, kicking at her ribcage.
With nothing less than utter confusion on her face, she looked to Florence, eyes wide and fearful. The Witch of Youghal looked back at her intently, gray eyebrows furrowed and wrinkled mouth set in a thin line.
Before Beth could ask where she was or what she was doing here, Florence whispered, "The child born twice—we haven't much time, and this is the only safe place I could find to deliver an important message."
Beth opened her mouth to speak, but Florence quickly released one of her hands and reached up to place a finger to her lips, shushing her.
She went on, "The Dealmaker is always listening. Always waiting for an opportunity to catch you at your most vulnerable. Yeh must remain vigilant, lass. Understand?"
Beth nodded, shutting her mouth tightly.
"Now listen," Florence whispered, leaning in a bit closer. "Your soul grows stronger, as does your will to overcome. But The Veil is growing thinner. And so it shall for the next seven days, until the dead walk among us, fated to return behind The Veil with the arrival of the rising sun on the eighth day. This is not something to be stopped. It is the natural order. However, you must prepare yourself."
Beth nodded again, though her eyebrows were rising with surprise. She choked out, barely loud enough to be heard, "How?"
Florence squeezed her hands. "You asked for assurance, aye? Willed it into being?"
What? Did she mean—
"I asked for," Beth started, sputtering and stammering halfway through. "A-a confidence boost. But I didn't—I didn't really ask for it, or will it, I was just hoping—"
"Hush," Florence scolded. "Every challenge presented is an opportunity to grow stronger. To learn. To comprehend the power you hold, despite your fear and doubt. Yeh wish to become a true Witch, lass? To help lost souls?"
Beth nodded weakly, unsure.
Florence's wild green eyes widened and she leaned even closer, her voice so quiet that Beth had to strain to hear it properly.
"Then you must remember this: not all those who wander are truly lost."
But before Beth could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Florence placed a hand flat on her chest and shoved her back with a surprising amount of strength.
Everything faded away. The ship, the sea, the salt in the air and the flickering light of lanterns.
And Beth awoke, gasping for breath and drenched in cold sweat.
She could still taste the salty sea air lingering at the back of her throat.
Merle didn't show up again until Beth was already up and dressed and preparing breakfast. He boasted and laughed about how he'd managed to spook Shane into taking down his Halloween decorations.
But Beth was barely listening. She wasn't in the mood to entertain Merle today. She was still thinking about the dream she'd had, and the cryptic message from the Witch of Youghal, wondering how it could possibly connect to her current situation—or a situation she had yet to encounter. Wondering if she'd unknowingly signed herself up for more than she was capable of handling.
Merle rambled on and on about haunting Shane while Beth went about her morning chores. When he finally grew quiet and still hadn't received much more than a hint of acknowledgement, he got frustrated and started talking shit about Rick and Daryl, voicing his critical doubts about the upcoming party. But Beth was still only half-listening.
She wound up working side-by-side with Oscar and Big Tiny for a couple of hours, finding it easier to ignore the dead Dixon when she had other people to converse with. The two men chatted happily with her while they worked, and they didn't miss an opportunity to vocalize how grateful they were for Daryl's help in getting them some steady work. She agreed and assured them that she knew he'd have good judgment when it came to identifying hard-working folks.
But whenever they spoke of Daryl, they took on a certain tone and gave her an odd little look—like they were assuming she was "his girl" or something, though they never specifically said as such. She felt too awkward to correct them, so she simply went along with it, silently praying Merle wouldn't notice.
It was nearing lunch time and Beth was occupied with milking one of the cows while Oscar stood nearby, brushing down one of the horses after their daily trot through the fields. They were chatting casually, laughing and joking about the farm in between anecdotes about his wife and kid.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Oscar asked, "So when're you an' Daryl gonna tie the knot? Settle down? Give yer daddy some grandkids?"
Beth nearly choked on her own spit. She forced herself to focus on the task at hand—the teats of the cow's udder gripped in her fingers—despite her reddening cheeks. She was suddenly grateful that the other man couldn't see her face. But she couldn't stifle the loud scoff and awkward chuckle that escaped her mouth.
She could barely hear herself over Merle's guffawing laughter. "Look't that, darkie here ain't as dumb as he looks after all!"
Beth pointedly ignored Merle and spoke to Oscar. "Actually," she said, intently focusing on the milk bucket. "Me an' Daryl aren't… together. We're just friends."
"Oh, shit," Oscar remarked. "Sorry, I thought—well, me an' Big Tiny both kinda got the impression—"
"Nah," she cut him off quickly. "It's okay. I know what you guys thought. But it's not… like that. I mean, we only just met like, two weeks ago."
Merle sniggered. "An' yer already head-over-heels. Can't even hide it from strangers no more, blondie."
Oscar let out a rough-throated laugh. "Ah, I see. So y'all aren't…"
The way his sentence trailed off had Beth raising her head and looking over to meet the other man's eyes. And she found that he was peering over at her with a smirk, a knowing glint in his eyes.
She rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh, lowering her head and returning to her work. "No. Not at all. Daryl barely tolerates me."
To her surprise, that earned a playful laugh from Oscar. "I know that ain't right." She glanced over to see him shaking his head as he continued to brush down the horse. "Way he talks 'bout you an' yer daddy, it definitely ain't just tolerating."
What? She thought, genuinely surprised. He talks about me?
Merle's grin quickly faded, replaced with a slight look of confusion—and worry—as his eyes flicked from Beth to Oscar and back again.
But before she could ask what Oscar meant, he went on, "Even if it's not Daryl, though—from what yer daddy's said 'bout how you've been takin' care of this place an' takin' care of him, ya seem like the type that'd be good with kids. A real nurturing type'a woman. 'M I right?"
She nodded confidently, thinking of Judith and the various other children she'd babysat over the years. "Yeah, you're right. I love kids. And they love me. For whatever reason. I've babysat a lot over the years. Mostly family friends an' whatnot."
Oscar chuckled. "That's what I thought. So when're you gonna have some'a yer own? You'd be a great mom."
Merle scathingly muttered, "Gotta get laid first…"
Beth shrugged, more to herself than anything, still actively ignoring the dead man leaning against the wall nearby. "I dunno. I mean… I've always wanted a child of my own. But I haven't even dated anybody since high school. So I dunno if it'll ever actually happen. The whole marriage and kids thing is kind of a far-off dream. If anybody's gonna be havin' kids anytime soon, it'll be my big sister."
"Well," Oscar said matter-of-factly. "Yer still young. Got plenty'a time ta figure all that out."
"I'm already halfway through my twenties," Beth said, only partially joking. "Dunno how much time I've really got left."
Oscar's tone grew more serious and he said, "Nah. C'mon now. That's bullshit. Twenty-four ain't nothin'. Your twenties are meant fer figurin' things out. Findin' yourself. 'Sides… ya never know what could happen over the next few years. A lot can change in that amount'a time. Hell, a lot can change in just a month. Trust me."
Beth chuckled, but had nothing to say in response. And to her surprise, neither did Merle.
But she wasn't even thinking about Merle. She was thinking about…
Why was she thinking about Daryl right now? Why was she silently reminiscing on how much their relationship had changed over the last several days? Why was she remembering his hand in hers? His arms around her, catching her as she fell? The way he smelled when she had her face pressed against the rough leather of his vest? The way his lips quirked up into the slightest hint of a shy smile when she looked over at him? Why was she secretly hoping that they'd still be friends after Merle crossed over?
And most of all… why was her mind suddenly conjuring up images of a child that would never exist? Why was she picturing blond hair and dark blue eyes and a familiar, shy little smile?
She reckoned it was the lack of restful sleep. She was still ruminating on the dream she'd had. Stuck on the possibilities of what she was about to get herself into. Wondering if it was worth it. Questioning whether or not she was ready for what was to come. Replaying Florence Newton's words in her head over and over and over.
She told herself she was being stupid, and silly, and maybe even reckless. And for once, she didn't need Merle's commentary to assure her of such.
Merle disappeared while Beth was making lunch. He seemed upset about something, incoherently grumbling under his breath and glaring at the back of her head, but she couldn't say she really cared. She was too focused on cooking twice the amount of food as usual, so the peace and quiet was a welcome reprieve.
Even though Oscar and Big Tiny had brought their own sack lunches, Hershel insisted that it was getting too chilly out for cold sandwiches, and that the men had more than earned themselves a home-cooked meal. So Beth doubled up her mama's famous tomato soup recipe, and made four extra grilled cheese sandwiches for their guests.
While she sat at the table with her dad, brother, and the two new farmhands, she remained quiet, choosing to observe rather than insert herself into the conversation. Admittedly, she was stuck in her own head. Still ruminating on the Witch of Youghal's most recent visit. Nervous about going to the Atlanta Police Department with Rick. And, yeah… thinking about Oscar's comments from earlier.
A short while later, after everyone had headed back out to work, she was finishing up the dishes when her phone vibrated and lit up atop the counter. She glanced over to see a new text from Rick.
About to leave the station. See you soon
Beth hurriedly dried her hands and texted back a thumbs-up emoji before double-checking that the kitchen was clean and the den was ready for her dad whenever he decided to come inside and rest again. Then she rushed upstairs to take a quick shower and change into clean clothes.
She was still stuck inside her own head throughout the process, a knot of anxiety forming in her stomach as she prepared for Rick's arrival. She wasn't even humming to herself like she usually did. She kept an eye on her phone, awaiting a text or call any minute.
And while she stared into the mirror over the bathroom sink, quickly throwing her hair into a messy bun, she suddenly felt a chill run down her spine. At the exact same moment, a shadow appeared in her periphery.
With an exasperated sigh, she said, "And where did you go this time? Haunting Shane some more? Y'know, you should really give that guy a break. I know he's an asshole, but yer gonna end up causin' him some kinda mental breakdown or something."
When she got no response—not even a scoff or a chuckle—she looked away from the mirror and glanced around the bathroom. The shadow she'd seen was no longer there.
She felt another chill. "Merle?" She called out, stepping away and peeking her head out the door to check down the hall. But it was just as empty as the bathroom.
Another shadow flickered in the corner of her eye when she stepped back towards the mirror. She whipped her head to the side and saw… absolutely nothing.
A loud bzzt bzzt bzzt made her jump, and she quickly sighed with both relief and a feeling of stupidity when she realized it was her phone vibrating atop the bathroom counter. A text from Rick: I'm outside.
She shook her head and immediately brushed off the odd occurrence, all but forgetting it as she rushed to respond that she was coming outside to meet him while simultaneously hurrying to her bedroom to slip on her shoes and grab her purse.
When she got downstairs, her dad still hadn't come inside, so she jotted down a note and left it for him atop his Bible on the coffee table.
Went to the city with Rick. Be back soon.
Call if you need anything.
Love, Beth
P.S.: please pull the chicken out of the freezer to thaw for supper
Beth wasn't sure why she felt the need—she knew he probably didn't care to get play-by-play updates—but as soon as she was in Rick's Sheriff's car, driving away from the farm, she typed out a text to Daryl.
Heading to Atlanta with Rick now. Hope your day is going well.
Before she hit Send, she paused and erased the second sentence, hesitating. Was it really necessary? Then again, they were friends. And she wanted to seem friendly. So, at the last second, she typed out the sentence again: Hope your day is going well. And before she could second-guess it, she pressed Send.
She was about to tuck her phone back into her purse, but to her surprise, Daryl texted back almost immediately. She ignored the way her stomach fluttered as she read his message.
My day's going ok. Be safe. Lmk how it goes.
She didn't even realize she was smiling to herself until Rick glanced over and remarked, "Textin' Daryl?"
She hurriedly shoved her phone away and shrugged nonchalantly. "Just lettin' him know we're headin' to the city. Thought he'd like to know what's goin' on since he can't come with us this time."
Rick nodded and hummed in agreement, but he still had a knowing little smile on his face. And for whatever stupid reason, Beth felt her cheeks growing warm. She quickly looked away to gaze out the passenger side window.
She was plenty comfortable enough with Rick that they didn't need to fill the silence or make small talk, but suddenly, it felt different. Almost tense, in a way. She could sense that he was building up to some kind of question even before he voiced it.
"So," he casually drawled. "Y'all been spendin' a lotta time together lately, huh? With this whole Merle thing."
Beth glanced over at the Sheriff with an awkward half-smile and an arched eyebrow. "Well, yeah. Obviously."
Rick checked the rearview mirror, as though he might find an unexpected passenger in the backseat. Then he asked, "Merle not here today?"
"Nah," she confirmed. "He disappeared while I was makin' lunch earlier. I dunno where he went."
"Prob'ly ta terrorize Shane some more." Rick chuckled softly.
"Probably," Beth agreed.
"And, uh," he went on, eyes set on the road ahead. "What's he think of the situation? I mean—his baby brother spendin' so much time with a Greene gal."
She furrowed her brow. "He's jus' sorta tolerating it, I guess. Not exactly happy about it, but it's not like he's got much choice. He seems like the possessive type, though, so I can't say I'm surprised. I don't think it matters who I am, he just doesn't seem to like the idea of Daryl havin' actual friends."
Rick hmphed and repeated, a little more meaningfully than seemed necessary, "Friends…"
Beth gave him another curious look, about to ask what he was insinuating, when he went on, "Yeah, he was always like that. Reckon death don't change much. It might sound a little cold, but I think it was for the best that Daryl started distancing himself."
"I think you're right," Beth agreed.
"And y'know, it's weird…"
"What d'you mean?"
"Well, the whole thing is weird, 'course," he elaborated. "But even with the stakes at hand an' everythin' else… hell, I think this is the happiest I've ever seen him."
Beth couldn't help but scoff in disbelief. "Daryl?"
Though, admittedly, her heart was skipping with glee for reasons she could not explain.
Rick looked over and met her gaze. "Yeah, Daryl." Then he smirked and added, "And you, too, young lady. I know yer under an awful lotta pressure, but I haven't seen you like this in years."
She reeled, taken aback by the statement. "Like what?"
He shrugged. "Like… I'ono, like you got a purpose. Like yer passionate about somethin' again. Like you got somebody ya really like."
She took in a sharp breath and opened her mouth, prepared to dispel whatever assumptions he was making.
But before she could, he cut in and said, "I know yer gonna tell me ta shut up, an' I know you ain't ever gonna admit nothin'—'least not to me—but I'm bein' honest, Beth. I haven't seen yer eyes light up around somebody like this since you were datin' that Jimmy kid back in high school. You an' Daryl… it's like y'all got some kinda connection. And I don't mean the connection that's brought about by his dead brother haunting you."
Beth rolled her eyes and turned back to stare out the window at the passing scenery, pushing away the quiet voice in her head that echoed, "He will be searching for a light amongst the darkness…"
She sighed, shaking her head. "Please don't start. I've been catchin' enough slack from Shawn. He already thinks I'm foolin' around with a good-for-nothing guy who's way too old for me, and I can't even tell him why I'm spending so much time with you an' Daryl."
Rick chuckled. "A'right, a'right. I get it. I was just sayin'—"
"How about we focus on catching a murderer and saving Daryl's soul first," Beth interrupted firmly. "And then, once that's done, maybe we can have this conversation."
She caught the look of surprise on the Sheriff's face, the way his eyebrows rose up high and his mouth curled into an excited smile. But he simply muttered, "Okay. Fair enough. I'll drop it."
And even though the subject was indeed quickly dropped, Beth still felt her face turning deep red, and a bloom of embarrassment in her stomach.
Had she just admitted to Rick that she maybe, possibly, perhaps liked Daryl as more than just the guy she was trying to save from an eternity in Hell? As more than friends?
And what the hell was the deal with everyone trying to call her out today? Nosing their way into her personal thoughts? Why did everyone else suddenly find her completely non-existent love life so damn intriguing?
Whatever. It didn't matter. She had much bigger things to worry about than some stupid crush. Or whatever supposed "connection" she and Daryl had, ghost-related or otherwise.
The rest of the drive to Atlanta was filled with companionable silence in between chit-chats about Carl and Judith and the new hands on the farm. But Beth grew quiet once more as they drove into the city and tall buildings loomed all around them, and focused instead on all the pedestrians walking along the sidewalks. She thought there were more people out than usual, but maybe it was just a lack of observation on her part. The city always looked a little different in the light of day.
When they turned left down a street instead of right, she couldn't help but notice. With a furrowed brow, she turned to Rick and asked, "Isn't the police department back the other way?"
"Yeah," he confirmed, slowing to a stop at an intersection. "Got another stop t'make first."
"Where?"
"City Hall."
"Uh, what for?"
He looked over at her with a sly little smile. "Had another idea of how I can help y'all."
Beth arched an eyebrow skeptically. "And how's that?"
"Floorplans!" He announced proudly. "For the Wiltshire. Figured if I can't go in with ya, least I can do is get a layout of the place. So y'all won't be goin' in blind."
"Oh." A smile quirked her lips upward and she couldn't help but agree. "That is a good idea. Okay, cool. Maybe it'll help us figure out more of a plan."
"That's what I'm hopin'."
Barely ten minutes later, Rick was parking curbside in front of City Hall, assuring Beth he'd only be a moment and to wait in the car for him. As soon as he'd disappeared inside the large building, she pulled out her phone to text Daryl with an update.
I guess Rick is getting us a floorplan of the estate so we're not going in totally blind. Might help us work out a better plan tonight. Next stop: police department. Hope work isn't —
"Send 'im a li'l mid-afternoon nudey pic! That'll make his day a helluva lot better, I tell ya what."
She jumped and nearly dropped her phone, groaning and looking back to find Merle sitting in the backseat, cackling maniacally. She quickly finished her text—"too rough today."—and pressed Send before tucking her phone away and focusing her attention on the dead Dixon.
"And where the hell have you been?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at him with suspicion.
"Oh, y'know." Merle shrugged. "Here an' there."
She rolled her eyes. "Haunting the hell outta Shane again?"
He laughed. "He jus' makes it so easy!"
"Were you tryin' to scare me earlier?" She asked.
His grin faltered and he appeared genuinely confused. "Huh? When?"
"Before Rick picked me up, when I was in the bathroom," she clarified. "That wasn't you?"
To her dismay, he still seemed confused. She wasn't quite sure what innocence looked like on Merle Dixon's face, but she was pretty sure this was it. "I'ono what yer talkin' 'bout, blondie. I been fuckin' with Walsh an' checkin' up on Daryl ever since you an' darkie started gettin' all sentimental 'bout family an' shit."
Beth turned away and gazed out the passenger side window, watching a group of people pass by on the sidewalk. One of them glanced back at her over their shoulder, and a curious expression crossed their face when their eyes met. They quickly looked away. A sense of dread was filling her stomach once more.
She hadn't seen those shadows in the corner of her eye since… when? Middle school? Puberty? Before Mama died? And she hadn't felt that familiar chill down her spine for anything—or anyone—besides Merle. Not that prominently. Not for years.
He clucked his tongue from the backseat and chided, "What, you cheatin' on me now, princess? There some other ghost hauntin' you that I should know about?"
He laughed, but she wasn't so much as cracking a smile. She couldn't even respond.
Florence's words echoed in her head: "But The Veil is growing thinner… Not all those who wander are truly lost."
Suddenly, Beth was starting to wonder how many of the people she'd been seeing around the city were actually alive.
to be continued…