A lot of care went into having a hospice patient in the home and everyone had made sure none of it fell on Beth's shoulders. Patricia kept repeating the same thing over and over - that her father wouldn't have wanted his daughter's last memory of him to be of bed sores or sponge baths. Eventually Beth had stopped pestering to help unless they truly needed it. The nurses saw to Hershel's more in depth needs, constantly visiting, but it was Patricia who checked every few hours, even if just to moisten Hershel's mouth with a wet towelette or read him one of his favorite passages from the bible.
The sun rose early on the next day, just as hot, twice as humid, and Beth was pleasantly surprised to find her favorite of her father's nurses with him. Denise Cloyd was younger than the rest, but twice as funny, and she seemed to genuinely enjoy checking in on Hershel.
"How is he?" Beth asked the moment she stepped into her daddy's room, as shocked as ever by his pale skin and closed eyes.
"Same as yesterday. No fever though, that's always good."
By the looks of things, Denise had just changed Hershel's feeding tube - a job that made Beth squeamish even though she'd cut into animals and sewn them back together. Maybe because this time it was her father. Patricia had clearly been right.
Beth simply nodded and gave her father a kiss on the cheek, whispering a good morning in the man's ear. It was too early for chit chat, even with Denise, and when the other woman started packing up her supplies, Beth helped despite her exhaustion. Sleep was a rare treat anymore.
"Just watch for any signs of infection, but you know that already. And make sure there's no leaks, that's the most common problem, okay?"
"Absolutely."
With one last look towards her frail dad, Beth walked Denise downstairs, showing her out. They stopped in the doorway and exchanged a few more words, all tips and tricks about her father's care and wishing each other a good day. The entire time Beth's eyes stayed trained on the man coming towards them. Shane Walsh was up just as early as her, his thick dark hair a bit of an unruly mess, but at least he was there. Beth had possessed a few doubts, though she knew that wasn't fair.
"Well, have a good morning and like always...call me if you have any questions. Not the clinic, but me personally," Denise said, giving Beth a nod.
Denise left just as Shane came in. The birds were chirping, happy to see the sun rise again but the same couldn't be said for two people that were now face to face, tired before they even started.
"You got some coffee by any chance?" Shane asked, not bothering with a good morning, not that Beth wanted one.
"Sure."
She led him into the kitchen, assuming he'd just follow and he did. It had occurred to Beth that maybe he'd have work but whatever was on Shane's schedule he'd cleared it for her. Remembering that, Beth tried to be a bit nicer.
"How do you take it?" She asked, starting the pot.
"However I can get it."
Beth cheeks flushed, knowing that statement was probably true for more than just how Shane liked his coffee but it was neither the time nor the place to imagine his strong arms wrapping around a woman's waist. Like maybe his best friend's wife's waist. That thought alone was enough to turn her attention to the job at hand.
"Sorry," he added, reading her mind
Beth ignored the statement and the apology.
"I made a list last night," she said instead while they waited for the liquid energy to brew. "Just small things that need to be done first. A few holes to patch, a toilet that doesn't flush right, outlets needing replaced, leaky faucets, doors that don't lock, windows that are stuck. We can stick to the main house first. I figure we can do the big projects last."
"We?" He asked.
"We, yes. Is that a problem?"
"No. But the big projects will help you sell faster," Shane added and Beth shrugged that off too.
"We'll get there. But a leaking pipe causes more damage in the long run than old wallpaper."
Beth watched his face turn down into a frown, expecting an objection but instead he just nodded in agreement. She considered that her first win. Truthfully she had no idea how to read Shane Walsh, there wasn't a person she'd never seen him sass so she refused to be bothered by any smartass remarks that came her way. There was enough on her plate, none of which she was particularly happy about, and Beth wasn't looking for anymore problems.
They worked silently, but hard. Shane knew where Hershel kept all of his tools and they both decided to tackle the problems that didn't require a run to the store first. What she didn't know, he would show her, but once he left her to it, spreading spackle and sanding it down, Shane kept to himself. Beth hadn't expected a man with such a reputation to stay so quiet, other than the few grunts when rusty bolts and screws managed to give him trouble.
The house stayed busy but Beth tuned most of the company out. Patricia went about her daily schedule, a few neighbors stopped by to see if there was any change in Hershel's condition and Beth refused to stop. At noon it was almost 100 degrees outside and it felt hotter inside. They took a break long enough for a quick BLT sandwich, eaten while standing up, and Beth knew her ponytail probably had more hair out of the tie than in. Shane was just as sweaty, his black tee clinging to his muscles in places Beth couldn't help but notice, nor could she help but notice how the few times he leaned in to comment on her work that he managed to still smell like soap, despite the moisture pouring from brow. When he walked away, she made a mental note to spray herself down in some body mist tomorrow. She'd keep up with Shane Walsh if it killed her.
At 9PM they finally decided to call it a night after sanding down the last patch in the walls. Beth was filthy, sticky, and when Shane took his exit he wished her a good evening and told her he'd see her in the morning. She watched him leave with that familiar swagger - a sign of the man he used to be, according to gossip.
Dinner was a cold bowl of Raisin Bran, followed by a stop in her dad's room. The hard work might've left her thin frame sore but Beth realized she'd been thankful for the distraction.
"Sweetie, why don't you take a shower and go lay down?" Patricia asked when Beth came in, plopping in a chair by her daddy's bed.
His room was the only one in the house with a window unit, installed after the stroke, and Beth had needed the cool air just as much as the visit.
Of course there was no change throughout the day, there was never a change.
"I will," Beth promised.
"I was reading to him," Patricia went on as Beth settled herself. "Not entirely sure he'd like my pick of romance novels but I'm tired of the Bible."
Somehow Beth found the energy to smile.
"I'm sure he'd love it."
It was silent for a moment and Beth took the chance to stare at Patricia, wondering how the family had gotten so lucky to have such a close friend. The woman had been around since she'd been little, even before their mother had died. Patricia was kind and patient, and she knew just as much about the ins and outs of their farm as Beth did.
"Thank you, by the way," Beth finally said. "I feel like me and Maggie haven't said that enough since you've been taking care of Daddy."
"You know you don't have to thank me, I'm glad to do it."
"You gonna be okay if we sell?"
"I'll manage. You don't get to be my age and not know how to take care of yourself."
With those words Beth couldn't help but notice the age showing on Patricia's face, wrinkles she'd never taken note of before. The woman was getting on in her years too. It did nothing but support Maggie's theory - if Beth stayed she'd be very much alone. The farm was shriveling up, as were its residents and Beth doubted she'd enjoy it if there was no one to share it with. Maybe she was doing the right thing.
"We'll make sure you're taken care of," Beth promised.
"I know."
Beth was about to finally peel her body off the chair when Patricia spoke again, a topic Beth didn't expect.
"I could've made you and Shane some dinner, I don't mind. Keeps my mind busy. You can't work a young man all day and not give him a warm meal."
That time Beth actually managed to laugh. Shane Walsh had almost twenty years on her and while he wasn't an old man, he certainly wasn't a young one - even if he did work like a bull. The few times he'd acknowledged her during their labor it'd been girl this, girl that.
"And what? Talk to myself? He's not much for words."
"Oh, he is," Patricia promised. "I've heard that man talk so much shit he'd make the damn devil blush."
Beth's head snapped in the other woman's direction, shocked to hear a curse on her lips. Clearly, she'd worked herself into delirium.
The shower afterwards didn't do much to help, either. By the time Beth crashed into her bed that night, for once, her brain was empty of all the worries that had been crowding in when the sun had risen that morning. Sleep came easy, even if the moment Beth shut her eyes she could still hear the sounds of Shane's heavy boots walking around her daddy's house long after he'd left, the man's presence stuck in her head like a bad country song.
Day three of their working together rolled around and Shane had never woken up so sore. The girl was going to kill him. Deputies in King County had a habit of getting a gut from beer and doughnuts but Shane had always made sure to stay in good shape, great shape, actually. But working from sun up to sun down took a toll on just about anyone. Except maybe Beth. Maybe it was because she was so young but Shane was struggling to keep up with her. She worked him harder than her daddy ever had, even when her sweaty hair was sticking up in every direction. He refused to take a break just because he was too damn stubborn. Always had been.
They'd found a rhythm over the last two days, one that suited Shane just fine. Beth was quiet as she worked, asking for the occasional bit of help but she was a fast learner and truthfully, Shane knew he was a good teacher. Sometimes a snide comment or inappropriate word slipped out but Beth seemed to shrug it off. He wasn't sure if it was because she was truly unmoved by his rough edges or if she was too nice to express her own discomfort and if he had to bet, he'd say it was a mixture of the two.
The third day was just as unforgiving as the first two.
Shane showed up bright and early just as Denise was leaving, just like always, and Beth was wearing her tiny cut off shorts and tank top, just like always. Sometimes he felt bad for noticing her young, pale thighs but yet, he still looked. That morning was no different.
The work wasn't much different either, at least not at first. He sweated, he cursed, his balls stuck to his thigh from the humidity. When Beth asked about a sandwich, their official go-to meal, Shane was glad to get out from under the bathroom sink, even though it took more effort than he cared to admit.
"So, we're almost done with the little things we can do for now," Beth said, still chewing a large bite of the ham and cheese.
She'd made the sandwiches while he'd poured the tea, both of them moving around the kitchen quietly until there was something to say.
"Until you get to the hardware store," Shane added, downing his glass and letting out a burp.
Beth shot him a face that was half disgust, half amusement, and Shane just shrugged. It was the closest they'd come to a joke, a fact that wasn't lost on him.
"Yeah, I figured we could go today."
"We?"
"Yeah, we. Is that a problem?" She asked, repeating one of the very first things she'd ever said to him when they'd first set out.
Shane hated going into town and typically avoided it, other than work. Sitting in a cruiser and writing tickets or taking the occasional call was a lot different than strolling through the streets and hearing the bullshit. People didn't fuck with him in uniform and he didn't fuck with them while he was in uniform, his job wasn't worth it. After hours it was a free for all. The last few days his hands had stayed busy, forcing his mind to fall in line, and the last thing he needed was a reminder of everything he was trying to forget.
"I could use your help," Beth continued when Shane just stared at her, his silence speaking for him.
He respected the girl. She had a work ethic her daddy would've been proud of, though Shane was positive Hershel Greene was the type of man that had already told her that. And never again would he say it or help her at a hardware store.
"Yes ma'am," Shane finally agreed, giving her a nod.
Beth didn't seem impressed by his enthusiasm but she didn't look bothered either. It was what it was.
They took Hershel's old Ford pick up truck and Shane immediately regretted the decision. The thing had no AC and opening a window just felt like opening the door to Hell, even going 60 down the highway. Or more like 70. Beth was in the driver's seat and Shane had never imagined someone so small could have such a giant lead foot.
"You're gonna get pulled over," he warned, just for the sake of throwing some words out there.
"Can't write me a ticket, I've got a cop with me."
Shane caught her smiling at him, another first. It was enough for him to throw a grin back at her.
"Fair enough."
"Why? Does my driving make you nervous?"
"No," he answered - the truth.
Shane could spot a country girl almost as easily as he could spot an easy lay. Beth had grown up on a farm and he was sure she'd been driving since before it'd been legal. She might've been young but he trusted her behind the wheel, enough so that his darted back to her slim thighs, no doubt stuck to the scorching vinyl interior like glue, before he felt himself doze off.
His eyes didn't open again until she'd parked and the moment she called him out on his nap, Shane shook his head and claimed he'd just been resting his eyes.
Once inside, Shane followed her lead. He grabbed the buggy and trailed behind Beth, fully expecting to be driven insane. Rick had always complained about shopping with the old lady but then again, Beth wasn't Shane's old lady and they weren't in a Payless but the hardware store - a place far more interesting. Shane grabbed the nuts and bolts and whatever odds and ends he knew they needed, but mainly stuck to Beth's list. If she struggled to figure something out, Shane would throw in his two cents, but only then. He'd tell her what product was worth her money, where they could cut corners and to his surprise she didn't really get stuck until they started picking out new faucets for the kitchen and bathrooms. Every last one leaked and eventually, Shane had talked her into replacing them, knowing a new buyer would appreciate the effort.
"I can't decide," Beth finally said, admitting the obvious.
"Really? I had no idea."
They'd been standing there for the last five minutes and had only spent fifteen inside. Shane wasn't really upset though, the AC was a godsend and his shirt had been so soaked with sweat, he actually had a bit of a chill.
"I really like these two."
She'd ignored his snip and pointed at her favorites.
Shane sighed and finally abandoned the cart, coming to stand next to her. The two she had her eye on were exactly the same - bridge style with cross handles, perfect little additions to a country home.
"I like the bronze. And the porcelain."
"Which one you like more?" He asked.
"I don't know, I like them both."
"Well, does it really matter? It's not like you're gonna be living there anyway."
"No shit," she snipped and for the first time Shane noticed the bitterness in her voice.
He said nothing else for a beat, waiting on her to decide. When she just continued to stand there, Shane finally decided to hurry things along. Maybe she wasn't in the mood for thinking about the new owners, anyway.
"Porcelain will stain, you're on well water. It's also more likely to crack. The bronze is probably better."
"I do like it more. But-"
"It doesn't match anything else in your kitchen," Shane finished for her.
He felt her glance over at him, an impressed look of surprise on her face.
"Yes, exactly."
The decision was at a standstill until finally she spoke again.
"I was thinking we could restain the cabinets. Something darker, more modern, but still country, ya know? The cabinets have good bones but they're horribly outdated. New handles too."
Shane had never been one to give a shit what his cabinets looked like, so long as they were full of food, but she had good taste and he couldn't object. The vision was now in his head too and soon he knew she'd be wanting paint colors. Part of him wanted to ask if she thought they had time for something like that, but if Beth was struggling with coming to grips with selling her childhood home he wasn't dumb enough to remind her about losing her dad too.
"We can do that, yeah."
"Good."
With a grin, she grabbed their faucet, and they headed to the checkout. Shane was positive they'd broken some sort of record, getting in and out of a store with a woman in less than thirty minutes.
It should've been thirty minutes anyway. They got to the register and as soon as Shane saw the person working it, he took a step back from Beth, hoping no one noticed he was there. Nothing ever went unnoticed in King County.
"Didn't know you were still staying at the Greene Farm," Merle Dixon commented, glaring at Shane while he handled Beth's merchandise with as little care as possible, but putting two and two together - probably the only math Merle was capable of.
"Didn't know Dixons had jobs," Shane shot back, getting in a dig of his own.
Shane knew the other man was five seconds away from telling the great story about Shane ducking out of town with his tail between his legs and he wasn't in the mood. He was never in the mood. Five seconds ago he'd been decorating a kitchen and the last thing he wanted was a reminder of how he'd fucked up, especially from the likes of Merle Dixon. The entire family was a pile of shit in Shane's opinion, minus a few, but the rare good seed never got a chance to succeed thanks to all the rotten apples bringing down the family tree. Shane didn't judge people by the success but it was hard not to judge the whole lot when he spent every Friday night at their trailer, slapping one in handcuffs.
"I heard your girlfriend's leaving town," Merle added, taking his sweet time with a line forming.
"She ain't my girlfriend, never was my girlfriend, nor do I want her to be."
"Really didn't look that way when you were parading them around town like they were your family and your best friend was half-dead at Memorial. Say, ain't she about to pop out your crotch fruit? Speaking of fruit, I always figured if you'd fuck a Grimes it'd be Rick."
Shane's blood was beginning to boil. He hated knowing he'd sank to a level so low that even Merle could throw shit at him, especially in front of an audience. Being humble had never been Shane's strong suit but he was learning. With a glance towards Beth, he decided to hurry things along.
"Merle, just shut your meth-mouth and ring the girl up."
The moment the words left his lips, Merle dropped what he was doing and stood still with a smirk that made Shane itch for a fight.
"Actually, I can't."
"Why not?"
That time it was Beth that snapped and Shane took a step forward, knowing shit was about to hit the fan.
"Well see, your Daddy still has an open tab here. And seein' as how I know he won't be payin' anytime soon, I can't sell anything else."
Shane knew this was his fault and he also knew it was bullshit.
"Does she look her daddy to you?" Shane asked, immediately regretting it when Merle's tiny eyes flashed over Beth's figure, a sickening smile painting his face.
"She sure don't."
Shane took another step closer to Beth, seeing red.
"Merle, sell her the shit."
"Sorry, I can't. It's the rules. We don't make 'em so you can break 'em."
"Whatever, just tell me how much and I'll pay it," Beth added but Shane immediately touched her arm, putting a gentle stop to her reaching for the wallet that he knew was always in her back pocket, stuffed in tight with her cellphone.
"No, you won't," Shane told her. "Good 'ole Merle is going to open a new tab, just for you. You won't pay a dime today, ain't that right Merle? If not, I might just tell someone about the summer of 99."
It was with great pleasure that Shane watched Merle's face immediately turn dark, his fingers suddenly punching buttons to finish the transaction. Before the lookie-loos could even scratch their heads in confusion, Merle was handing Beth a receipt, then her bags.
"Now apologize to the lady," Shane demanded.
Merle whimpered out a pitiful apology but his eyes never left Shane's. Beth and Shane almost had one foot out the door when the man spoke again.
"It was good seein' you around, Walsh. When I can expect your company again? Or do I need to tune into Maury to get a good look?"
Shane bit back a reply but it turned out he didn't need to, Beth had him covered.
"Better Maury than Jerry Springer," she added.
When she tossed him the keys, Shane eagerly accepted. They might have won the battle, but not the war. Beth's dad was still going to die, as Merle had rudely reminded her, and Shane was still a piece of a shit. Shane found a small amount of relief in getting to use his own leadfoot. Beth reminded him that he was going to get pulled over and Shane reminded her that he was a cop, the same song and dance but the smiles weren't quite the same. Beth's didn't quite reach her eyes and Shane felt responsible.
"So what happened in the summer of 1999?"
She asked the question once they were halfway to the farm, finally breaking the silence that had fallen. Shane was happy for the interruption. He checked his rear view, got comfortable in his seat, letting the story out.
"Me and Rick caught him getting pounded in the ass by some guy behind his trailer. The guy was balls deep and Merle was moanin' like a bitch in heat."
He looked over to see her eyes wide in surprise and immediately apologized for his language.
"No, it's not that," she said, starting to laugh. "It's just...not what I expected."
"Imagine our surprise."
"But I mean, what's the big deal? If he wants to get fucked by a dude, who cares?"
Shane noticed her use of the f-bomb but continued, seeing just how far he could push her before she got uncomfortable. She never did.
"Now, to people like me and you, it's not a big deal. You wanna get screwed by a guy with a monster cock? Great. You wanna get on all four in the trailer park like a little bitch? Cool, it ain't hurting anybody, 'cept maybe your knees. But to pieces of white trash like the Dixons it's probably the worst thing you could do. Merle's a homophobic, who comes from a long, long, long line of homophobics. I like to keep that little card in my back pocket, it prevents a lot of fights."
"Well, you played it well back there."
Shane appreciated her approval but there was no denying it was just another reminder of the words that had been exchanged. The antidote was funny but it wasn't quite enough to remove the sting from either of their burns. Thirty minutes later, they were back at the farm, the silence heavy, other than an occasional giggle from the passenger seat as Beth remembered what Shane had just told her.
Once back to work, they fell into their normal routine, like none of it had ever happened. Shane wasn't sure if it was because Beth had been bothered or if it was because he had been, or maybe they just liked to work that way. The only thing he was sure of was that when they finally packed things up at midnight, his swagger was gone, replaced by a slow pace, one he couldn't hide from the two women he wished a good evening. The next day he had to work, but they made plans to pick up again when he got off.