AN: Here is the second part that is also posted as free-standing. After this, I'll collect all the other Poppy pieces together here.
Please note that there is a very brief mention of abuse, child abuse, infanticide, etc. It is not super detailed, but I do like to give the warning for anyone who may be especially bothered by that and need to prepare themselves.
I own nothing from the Walking Dead.
I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think.
111
Poppy had seemed every bit as excited about breakfast with Miss Carol as Daryl had felt. She'd been as agreeable and helpful as a toddler ever could be in the morning, and she hadn't fought Daryl when he'd switched out her spotted puppy Halloween costume—which she'd insisted on sleeping in—for her soft brown pants and her current favorite sweater that was colored almost like candy corn and had "Happy Fall Y'all" printed on the front of it with a few fall woodland creatures printed around the words.
"That's an owl," Poppy offered, pointing to her shirt as Daryl had buckled her in to her car seat.
"It is," Daryl said.
"That's a fox," Poppy said, pointing to anther animal.
"You got that right," Daryl encouraged. "Now—we goin' to get breakfast, so I need you to listen to me, Poppy. Put your listenin' ears on."
Poppy feigned putting on ears and the looked around.
"Where's my ears, Daddy?" She asked.
"What?"
"My ears! Where's my puppy ears?" Poppy asked.
She had worn her costume ears all morning, ever since she'd woken up, and Daryl had slipped them off her head at the last minute as he'd pushed her out the door. He wasn't dumb enough to leave them behind. Instead, he sighed, accepted his fate as the father of a puppy for at least a few more hours, and offered the folded-up ears from his back pocket. They were only slightly wrinkled and Poppy didn't seem to care. She smiled at the ears and tried to put the headband on. Daryl straightened it for her, and she grinned and barked at him.
"OK—see? That's the first thing we ain't doin'," Daryl said. "No barkin' in the restaurant. OK?"
Poppy barked at him again, and Daryl pointed his finger at her and shifted his eyebrows into just the position necessary to make her understand that he didn't approve of her behavior. She looked shocked, and then she frowned.
"That's just puppy for OK," she offered. "It's just…it's just OK, Daddy."
"You speak English while we're out with Miss Carol, OK?" Daddy said. Poppy nodded, her bottom lip rolling out slightly. "You can't bark all damn mornin' or she's gonna think we're weird, and then there won't be no more breakfast with Miss Carol never again."
Poppy nodded her understanding. Losing the prospect of future plans with Miss Carol might break Daryl's heart more than it did Poppy's, but he wasn't ready to admit that just yet. Of course, barking at Miss Carol might not be enough to send her running for the hills. She had been the one, after all, to technically suggest this morning's breakfast date, and that had come after a somewhat odd meeting. If Poppy hadn't had to potty while trick-or-treating, Daryl might never be getting her ready to go with him to have breakfast with the woman whose toilet they'd borrowed.
Daryl hadn't so much as looked at another woman since Poppy's mother had turned his life upside down in the worst way possible. At least, he hadn't looked at another woman as anything more than another human being who happened to be occupying the same planet and happened to coincidentally be female.
He hadn't exactly been able to keep that going, though, when he'd met Carol the night before. Something about her had instantly gotten his attention. Something about her had demanded his attention, really. He'd been reluctant to leave her presence, having found it, and the offer of breakfast almost felt like a saving grace of sorts.
Daryl didn't even care for breakfast that much, but she'd said it was her favorite meal, and he'd stayed awake almost all-night thinking about it.
The Pancake House was a diner in town—a greasy-spoon kind of place—that specialized in breakfasts of all kinds. They served breakfast all day long, and at this early hour there were mostly the old men there who came in every day to drink bottomless pots of coffee, swap stories, and eat eggs for nearly every meal.
After pulling up, Daryl sat for a moment and did his best to prepare himself. This woman—Carol Ann, though he didn't know her last name—might not show up. It was possible that she'd had a few Halloween cocktails the night before, and that she'd woken up wondering what the hell she'd been thinking to even let the strange man and his daughter into her home, less likely to ask him about having breakfast. It was entirely possible that she'd just decided to blow him off.
He wanted to prepare himself for that before he went inside. It would be fine. If she didn't want to know him and Poppy, it would be fine. Besides, he and Poppy had always done pretty well on their own.
Daryl got Poppy out of her seat. He straightened the ears she insisted on wearing and buckled her baby leash—something that he knew some people didn't approve of, but which he used frequently because it gave Poppy some sense of independence while keeping Daryl's anxiety to a manageable point.
Happy with her tethered freedom, Poppy bounced ahead of Daryl, making the most out of every step in the parking lot, and Daryl followed behind her carrying her little bag of "entertainment" that would keep them all sane for as long as they wanted to be there. They were nearly ten minutes late, and he prepared himself for disappointment as he opened the door, let Poppy inside, and scanned the little diner.
Instead of a rush of disappointment, though, his heart skipped a beat to see Carol sitting in a booth. She smiled when they came in the door and got up, despite the fact that Daryl was waving at her to sit down.
She moved awkwardly, like she didn't know what greeting was acceptable as he approached, and Daryl simply picked up Poppy to hide his own awkwardness.
"I didn't know what you wanted," Carol said. "Or—really, even if you'd come. But I got her a booster seat and—one of the little kid's menus with the crayons."
"Perfect," Daryl said. "Weren't sure you'd come, either."
"I told you," Carol said. "I love breakfast."
Daryl felt his face grow warm. He accepted her teasing, though. The night before, he'd found himself mesmerized by the sheer natural beauty of this woman. She was perfect. She was fresh-faced and she seemed to be captivating without the least bit of effort on her part. This morning things were no different. She wore no makeup. She did, however, have on dark jeans and a rust-colored sweater that was similar to the darkest stripe on Poppy's candy-corn sweater—something Poppy quickly and loudly pointed out to draw Carol's attention to her for a moment. Carol's silver and white hair, just long enough to curl slightly, was tousled like she'd done nothing more than run her fingers through it but, somehow, she'd managed to do that perfectly.
And, just like he'd felt the night before, Daryl felt oddly drawn to the woman—and already sure that he'd hate to see her go when breakfast was done.
He didn't even entertain the part of his brain that suggested how much he'd like to see her before breakfast or, in seeing her then, how much he'd like to see what she looked like eating breakfast in bed—his, preferably. Daryl almost ignored that part of his brain entirely—almost.
Daryl asked Poppy where she wanted to sit, and she chose what he'd hoped she would say. She wanted to sit with Miss Carol. Daryl could see that Carol wanted Poppy to sit with her. She'd happily moved the booster seat from Daryl's side of the table to her own and she'd gladly helped Poppy to get situated with her crayons and the menu that offered several cartoon animals like those on her shirt—though those cartoon animals wore clothes and Poppy informed Carol that real animals did not usually wear clothes.
"Now if she drives you crazy," Daryl offered when Poppy was identifying the animals on her menu for Carol for the fourteenth time in about three minutes, "I can take her back over here."
"No," Carol cooed, brushing her hand over Poppy's hair. "She doesn't drive me crazy. I love it."
Poppy liked pancakes better than waffles, but otherwise she wanted Carol's order. Daryl let her get what she wanted. Carol had patted her back and told Poppy that one blueberry pancake and one chocolate chip one was a wonderful choice. And, like Carol, Poppy had wanted sliced bananas and apples on the side of her plate instead of the hashbrowns.
Daryl had chosen a different flavor for his waffles, but he'd taken the healthier fruit side that Carol had chosen to keep from having something different that Poppy would want simply because she saw it. Daryl set Poppy up with her own crayons and one of her coloring books out of her bag, and she insisted to Carol that she was going to color her a picture while they waited for breakfast.
"When you were late," Carol said, "I half-expected you not to come."
Daryl laughed at that confession.
"I half-expected you not to come," Daryl said. "We were late because it's damn near impossible to get anywhere on time with a toddler, no matter how early you start."
A slight hint of sadness flashed over Carol's features. It was akin to the same kind of sadness that Daryl had seen for a moment the night before. She covered it quickly, though, with a smile.
"A single daddy," Carol mused. She clearly remembered Daryl's story from the night before about how Poppy's mother had left them when she was only a day old. She'd signed all rights away to Poppy, left her with nothing but her name, and skipped town. Daryl hadn't heard from her since, and he hadn't tried to find her. He could take a hint pretty well. "It's just—amazing."
"Everybody says that," Daryl said. "Like I'm a three-headed dinosaur. Is it that amazin' when it's a single mother? Or people just don't think that a man's got the ability to take care of his kid?"
Carol sat back slightly. It was the first time that Daryl realized she'd actually been leaning toward him across the table.
"I can see I've touched a nerve," Carol said. "Only—I didn't mean to. I promise."
"I didn't mean to get touchy," Daryl confessed. "It's just—you get tired of people sayin' it like they're amazed that she's still alive. It's just been me and Poppy since she was less than twenty-four hours old. I might not be good as a mama, but…I don't think I've done too damn bad for her."
"I don't think you have, either," Carol said, shaking her head. "And—if that's how you interpreted what I said, then I'm sorry for that. I only meant that I thought you were doing a wonderful job with her. And, maybe because of my own experience, I was just…impressed."
Daryl felt apologetic for getting defensive, but he didn't apologize again. Carol didn't seem to need it.
"You had an asshole old man?" Daryl asked.
"No," Carol said. She didn't clarify, though, or say anything else—at least not right away.
When the waitress brought their plates, Daryl's first instinct was to make sure that Poppy's food was ready for her. His sister-in-law, Andrea, sometimes took control of Poppy when they were in restaurants but, for the most part, Daryl was responsible for everything. He didn't need to worry, though. The moment the plate came, Carol helped Poppy move her coloring over to the side so that she could still reach it while also reaching her food. Carol asked Poppy if she could cut her food up for her, and she accepted Poppy's garbled response which Daryl didn't even wholly understand.
Carol cut Poppy's food into bite-sized pieces, and she asked the waitress for a refill on Poppy's milk.
"What'cha say, Poppy?" Daryl asked when Poppy accepted her fork from Carol after Carol showed her that spearing a piece of the chocolate pancake and a little of the banana together was good. Poppy tried the food before she hummed her approval of Carol's culinary recommendations and smiled at her with a scrunched-up nose and banana oozing slightly between her teeth.
"Thanks! Thank you!" Poppy declared loudly. Of course, it didn't quite come out clearly, but Daryl assumed that Carol could tell what she'd said because she told her that she was "most welcome," and gave her a little sideways hug before turning to her own food.
Daryl drowned his waffles in syrup. It was more than he meant to put on them, but he was feeling a little nervous in, honestly, the best way possible.
"If you don't mind my sayin' it," Daryl said, "you're kind of a natural with her."
Carol smiled softly.
"Am I?" She asked.
"To me," Daryl said. "If you ever wanted kids…"
He didn't finish. He hadn't meant to even start with that. He knew there were all kinds of reasons that people didn't have kids. It was just as rude to say something like that, he assumed, as it was for someone to assume that he didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground when it came to raising Poppy because of the business between his legs.
Carol shrugged her shoulders.
"I do want kids," she said. "I did. I had one."
Daryl was almost positive his stomach fell onto the floor between his feet. Across the table, Carol chewed through a mouthful of waffle and fruit. Poppy colored with her right hand and fed herself drippy bites of food—half of which ended up in her lap—with her left. Carol eyed Daryl in that way that people had of waiting to see what reaction the thing they'd just said might get.
"Shit," Daryl said. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Carol said. "Sorry doesn't do much for anyone, does it?"
"You wanna—talk about it?" Daryl asked.
"I don't want to ruin your breakfast," Carol said.
"If you don't wanna talk about it, you sure don't have to," Daryl said. "But—if it's just puttin' me off my food that you're worried about, I don't mind you sayin' what you need to say."
"There's not much to say," Carol said, shrugging her shoulders. "It was a little over a year ago, and you probably heard about it on the news. I was Peletier, then. I'm McAlister now. I moved and changed my last name. My ex-husband is in prison, hopefully for every good year he has left in his life. I don't know if he was trying to…you know…me or…if it was just that his anger was too far out of control. I woke up in the hospital. My Sophia didn't. She wasn't quite as big as…" She gestured, but didn't say anything that would get Poppy's attention.
"Jesus," Daryl muttered. He glanced at Poppy. At either Daryl's utterance or the change in the atmosphere surrounding the meal, Poppy looked up. She looked at Carol with a furrowed brow. Carol put on a pretty convincing smile, but Poppy was pretty good at seeing right through everyone's disguises. She put down her crayon and offered Carol a drippy bite of pancake from her fork.
"You hungry?" Poppy asked. "It's mmm mmm good. Here—you bite."
Poppy's genuine concern brought a sincere smile to Carol's face. The woman brushed her hand over Poppy's head.
"You eat your food, sweetheart," Carol said. "So you can grow up big and strong."
Poppy did eat the bite she'd offered Carol, and she put her fork down to pick up a bite-sized piece of apple and chew on it.
"I like that," she informed Carol.
"I do too," Carol agreed. "Apples are my favorite."
"Me too," Poppy agreed. "You like—you like this puppy?"
She pointed to the picture she was coloring. The multi-colored puppy on her coloring book page was a mess, but Poppy took great pride in her art.
"Oh—I do," Carol assured her. "You color so pretty. But—I think you're my favorite puppy."
Poppy looked pleased with that, as well. In her excitement that Carol not only remembered her Halloween costume, but appreciated her post-holiday wearing of her ears, Poppy barked at Carol and panted in her demonstration of what a happy puppy would do.
Immediately, she realized her mistake and looked at Daryl with wide eyes.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," she said. "I'm sorry! I barked, but it was just a little bit. It was just a little puppy. I'm sorry."
Daryl gave her a sympathetic smile.
"It's alright," he said. "It was just a lil' bark. It don't hurt nothin'. Eat your banana, Poppy."
Poppy nodded at him and picked up her fork again so that she could happily chase banana slices around her plate with it.
Daryl looked at Carol who was looking back at him.
"Did I ruin your breakfast?" She asked.
"No," Daryl said. "I mean—obviously it ain't me but you that I'm worried about. If I'da known…she prob'ly upsets you."
"No," Carol said. "She doesn't upset me. On the contrary, really. She reminds me that…there are still beautiful little things in the world. Like pretty little poppies."
"That's me!" Poppy said quickly, her head popping up.
"That's you, alright," Daryl said. "Eat that blueberry piece there. You'll like that one. It's got fruit in it. Here." Daryl stabbed the piece of pancake that Poppy would appreciate most and offered her the fork back. She thanked him as she shoved it in her mouth and dramatically hummed her pleasure over it. "I think I remember that on the news."
"I'm sure you do," Carol said. "I couldn't get away from it. It's why I moved. Changed my name. I got enough money that I could take some time off while I finished a degree in library science that I'd started years ago. Now I work in town. I won't hurt financially for pretty much anything, but…money doesn't fix everything."
"Only time does that," Daryl said. "Time can heal all wounds. Ain't that what they say?"
"It's what they say," Carol said. "Is it true?"
Daryl shrugged his shoulders. He returned to eating his waffles. Carol returned to eating hers. Poppy seemed to relax, too, and she returned to her left-handed eating and simultaneous right-handed coloring.
"I never experienced nothin' like what you did," Daryl said, "and I thank God for that because…I don't know if I'da even been able to get up in the morning. But—what I have experienced? Hell—I don't know, but if you'd've asked me before last night, I would've said it weren't true. Now…though…"
"What happened last night?" Carol asked.
Daryl swallowed. He had the same feeling he'd had last night. He had the feeling that Poppy's pancakes would end, and breakfast would end, and this woman that he felt absolutely drawn to like he'd never felt drawn to a woman before would get up and she'd disappear from his life entirely. He felt like he had to do something to prolong it or avoid it entirely, even if he wasn't sure what he had to do, and he was terrified to even imagine it.
He choked down his fear because the fear of letting this—whatever this might be—simply disappear entirely was more frightening than the fear of knowing that she didn't want whatever there might be.
"I met a woman who…made me wanna go out for waffles," Daryl said. "For the first time since Poppy was born. And—more'n that? I met a woman who wasn't afraid to have pancakes with Poppy, too."
Carol smiled at him.
"I'd love to have pancakes with Poppy again," Carol said. "If it isn't being presumptuous. And—with you, too. If you don't mind that…I've got baggage."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"We handle baggage OK around here," Daryl said. "Poppy an' me have nearly got our own U-Haul." Carol smiled genuinely at that.
For the rest of breakfast, they kept conversation light. Carol told Daryl about how late she'd stayed up doling candy out to trick-or-treaters. Daryl told Carol how they'd only made it through about twelve more houses before Poppy had tuckered out on him and fallen asleep, so that he'd had to carry her back to the car. Poppy told Carol that Daryl had eaten all of her candy, and Daryl had clarified that he hadn't eaten her candy, but that he wasn't allowing her to have more than one piece a day after dinner.
When Poppy had loudly announced to them both that she had to pee pee, Carol had asked if she could take her to the bathroom, and Poppy had agreed without hesitation. While he'd waited for them, Daryl had paid the bill, left the tip on the table, and gathered up Poppy's things. He was waiting to escort them outside when Carol came out holding onto Poppy's leash while Poppy told Daryl about the soap in the bathroom that, apparently, was her favorite kind that smelled faintly like cherries.
Outside, Poppy had a mini-meltdown over realizing that she didn't have her coloring book. Daryl assured her it was in her bag, but she had to have it right then and there. Daryl finally offered it to her, not wanting this first date—if it was a date, as he hoped—to be marred by him scolding his daughter in the parking lot outside the Pancake House for her poor manners.
In possession of her coloring book, Poppy flipped through it until she found the page she wanted. She tore it out, rather roughly, and thanked Daryl as she put the now-unwanted book in his hands again.
"This is yours," Poppy informed Carol as she gave her the coloring book page.
"She said that's yours," Daryl offered, interpreting in case Carol couldn't understand Poppy's language.
"I understood," Carol assured him. "Oh—thank you! It's beautiful!"
"It's a puppy," Poppy informed her. She hopped around—apparently something that puppies do, though she looked more like a rabbit—and barked at Carol. Carol laughed at her antics.
"It's a beautiful puppy!" Carol assured her. "Thank you! I'm going to put it on my refrigerator. OK?"
"OK," Poppy agreed. "OK—you eat pancakes with me?"
"You just ate pancakes," Carol said.
"I think she means again," Daryl said, scooping his daughter up and hugging her to him. He hoped she meant again. If she did, she was certainly looking out for her old man.
Carol looked at Daryl. She held his eyes with her beautiful blue ones. He caught himself silently willing her to say yes to Poppy's invitation—he'd eat pancakes three meals a day, without hesitation, if that's what it took, and he knew it. Carol smiled, a little knowingly, almost like she could read his mind.
"That's up to your daddy," Carol said. "But—I'd love to eat pancakes with you again. Both of you."
Daryl held her eyes.
"We'd love to eat 'em with you again," he said. "And—I mean—if you weren't against it, maybe we could…find a couple other things to do together."
Carol smiled warmly.
"I'd like that," she said. She pulled her phone from her purse. "Give me your number?"
"I know how this works," Daryl said with a laugh. "I'ma give you my number, and I'm never gonna hear from you again."
Carol stared at him for a moment.
"I can see how—you might be worried about something like that," she said, reaching her hand out and brushing Poppy's cheek with her knuckle. "But—give me a chance to prove you wrong?"
Daryl accepted. His stomach knotted as he called out his number. Carol carefully entered it into her phone. Immediately, Daryl heard his own phone go off and he plucked it from his back pocket. The missed call was from an unknown number, but the look on Carol's face told him exactly who it had been that had called him. The smile was sincere.
"You know—I suggested breakfast," Carol said. "But…if you think you're willing to try something else, just let me know."
"Just so you know—this ain't no part-time gig. I got her pretty much all the time," Daryl said.
"I can't wait," Carol said.
Daryl's heart beat quickly in his chest. He realized that he felt the same way.
"I'm sure we'll come up with somethin'," he said.
"You better," she teased. "Don't be one of those people that I never hear from again."
"Just for that," Daryl said. "I'ma call you as soon as I get her in the car."
Carol laughed.
"And I'll answer," she said with a wink. She waved at Poppy, and Poppy excitedly returned the gesture. Then, she winked at Daryl—a quick gesture that made his poor heart feel a little less stable than it did already.
He couldn't keep himself from smiling as he buckled Poppy into her seat and visually tracked Carol on her way to her SUV, finally knowing which vehicle was hers. As soon as he got in, he put her information in as a contact and hit the button to call her. His smile only grew when she answered.
"I told you I'd call," Daryl said.
"And I told you I'd answer," Carol responded.
"Guess that means we can trust each other," Daryl said.
"I guess so," Carol said.
"I think that's pretty important," Daryl said. "Don't you?"
"I think it's the most important thing," Carol said. "Though—I already had a pretty good feeling about you."
"Why's that?" Daryl asked.
"I trust Poppy's judgement," Carol said. "And—she's a very happy little girl. She speaks volumes about you, even without saying anything. You know?"
"Yeah," Daryl said, laughing quietly. "I trust her judgement, too. And she don't give away her pictures of puppies to just anybody."