As much work as having five dogs on a sailboat is, Beth wishes they'd had dogs with them last winter on the road. The two adult dogs are infinitely more sensitive to the sound and scent of walkers nearby. They spent the first week on the boat navigating the rivers and the mouth of the bay, letting Beth learn the basics of sailing. The second week, they navigated to the nearest large Gulfside marina, gathering items from an extensive list Shane has.
Beth spent a chunk of their time on shore practicing with a recurve bow. It's easy enough to set up a target while Muffin stands guard. Shane warned her the bow is just to learn on, not a sufficient draw weight for hunting. It makes her both frustrated and determined as she gets better with the bow. She wasted too much time at the prison not learning enough to survive outside walls. It isn't a mistake she'll make again.
Today, though, Shane declared they're done with the mechanical and other backup supplies for the boat itself, so they're anchored offshore. Beth estimates they have two months supply of food and necessities for them and the dogs. It's amazing how many nooks and crannies the boat has.
Sitting at the galley table, Beth works on the meal planner Shane set up. Even at their best at the prison, she doesn't think nutrition was the primary factor, but the ex-deputy is insistent on being careful since they also have to account for supplies while at sea. He's set up two weeks and seemed content to continue, but it's a project she can help with easily, so she is.
"Alright, you damn little ankle biters, inside." Shane's voice at the door makes Beth look up and smile. He'd taken all the dogs out in the fading sunlight for a potty break. The pups still can't go all night, but they've adapted well to using a puppy pad in the bathroom in the unused cabin when they can't get to their fake patch of grass on the bow.
Each puppy has their tiny life jacket removed and hung on overhead hooks, while the adults wait their turn outside the door. Jelly bounds over to Beth, begging to be lifted up. She curls up on the cushion beside her and promptly falls asleep. Her brothers disappear, but squeaking from Shane's cabin tells her they've gone for their toy basket.
Shane eyes the tumbler in front of her before cutting his gaze to the collection of bottles she's collected for the little built-in bar in the galley. "Experimenting tonight?"
He latches the exterior door after hanging up the older dogs' life jackets, too, crossing to the sink to begin tackling the supper dishes. At least she knows what the extra faucet at the sink is for now that they're anchored offshore enough to have adequate seawater. She hears the whir of the electric pump bringing salt water in to wash the dishes. They'll be rinsed in freshwater from the regular faucet.
That's another novelty of the past weeks. At the prison, the kitchen duties rarely went to any of the males, even Carl. Shane seems content with splitting duties between cooking and dishes without even discussing it. She honestly suspects if she hadn't known how to cook, he would simply have just let her be lazy.
"I don't think I quite understand the allure," she says, eyeing the tumbler. The rum is better than the whiskey, and both are better than the moonshine, but it still isn't fun to drink.
"No one drinks alcohol for the taste, except maybe wine drinkers. Why do you think bars always dress it up into things like margaritas and cosmopolitans?"
Shane sounds amused as hell, so Beth plunks the tumbler onto the counter to offer it to him. "You can have it."
He eyes it for a minute before concentrating on his dishes. "Worst thing I ever did in my life involved alcohol. I don't drink anymore."
Beth retrieves the tumbler and studies the amber liquid for a moment before leaning over the counter to pour it down the rinse sink. "The rest can be used for cooking. Carol made some really good rum balls."
"Now that is a tasty use of liquor. So's using bourbon for sauces and glazes. We'll use it up." Shane switches to rinsing, adding the tumbler to his dishes. "Not a good habit to pick up at your age, so I'm inclined to be happy you don't like it."
Beth smiles, suddenly curious, because in the nearly three weeks she's traveled with Shane, there have been several small clues that he has no idea how old she is. "I'm only a year below the old world drinking age for the U.S. Plenty of other places allowed it at eighteen."
Her hunch is proved correct when the man stops and turns to look at her, astonished. "You're twenty? Jesus. Thought you were about Carl's age. Maybe sixteen at the most."
Laughing, she nods. "Turned twenty on the first of October. I graduated high school right before the world went to hell. Why did you think I was younger?"
She remembers Shane from the farm, but it's a distant sort of thing. He was always so intense and angry up until the day he disappeared that they never actually spoke that she recalls. It took her awhile to understand why everyone was so relieved when he simply walked away, and overhearing a fight between Lori and Rick about the baby filled in a lot of blanks.
"Guess it was the way your family behaved, like you needed looking after." He finishes the dishes and dries his hands before setting the kettle to boil and measuring instant coffee into his mug.
"I will never understand how you can drink coffee now and not be up all night." It's made her curious, because almost every night, it's the same ritual, if things are calm. Shane and the kettle, serving himself a heavily sweetened mug of coffee.
Shane just chuckles and takes a seat at the far end of the angled bench for the table with his mug. "ADHD does wonders for changing the effects of caffeine. Luckily, there's a wealth of crappy and not so crappy instant coffee with a long shelf life."
"Tea might taste better." He drinks tea, when she uses packets of herbal tea like peppermint. But she's never seen him with the other stuff that would have caffeine. Neither of them want to spare refrigerator space for iced tea, but she's got several varieties that were sealed up properly.
"Maybe I'll give it a try." He takes a big drink and quirks a small smile her way. "You ready to head south tomorrow?"
Beth nods, closing the menu planner. "I'm still amazed you sailed to the Bahamas by yourself." She suggested sailing to the islands as a joke, until Shane admitted not only was it possible, but he'd done it.
"Probably not the safest thing I've ever done, but I had fuel if I needed to correct course."
"Do you think I'll be good enough to help by the time we get in range?"
"Yeah. The best part now is not having to worry about boat traffic."
The worst part is no Coast Guard or other boats to save them if they screw up, but that's not much different than being on land. Everyone takes their lives in their own hands these days. At least there's fewer chances of bandits on the water, she thinks. She could have chosen to go west and explore the American Gulf Coast, but that's unknown territory. For this adventure, retracing Shane's last voyage seems best.
Shane's in bed, reading, when he hears Beth talking softly to the puppies. They seem to like sleeping in the galley near the door, versus Biscuit, who sleeps with Beth, and Muffin, who is in her usual spot curled against his knee. They're still far enough north for the nights to be cold, even if the days are mid-seventies. It means running the heater at night, which uses diesel, so they have to be careful on fuel consumption.
Figuring Beth was getting a snack or a drink, he's a little surprised when she appears in his cabin doorway. She's got a book in her hands, but she seems uneasy. Sticking a scrap of paper to hold his place, he sets his book aside on the bed. "Everything okay?"
Nothing seems out of place. She's dressed in actual pajamas, unlike his t-shirt and sweats combo, something she collected along the way to the boat. When he went to his cabin, she was on her side of the boat, taking a shower before bed. They're aiming for an early start down the coast.
"I was sorting some things before bed, and I wanted my daddy's Bible closer to hand. It reminded me I had these, and that you should see them." Beth holds out the novel, which seems to have an odd amount of oversized bookmarks.
Taking the book, he glances at the cover, noting the Harper Lee classic before opening it to the first bookmark. His breath catches when he sees the Polaroid. Cradled in Carl's skinny arms is a small baby, maybe two or three months old. The color is off, like many of the instant film photos can be, but the pair are unmistakable. "This is Judith?" he asks huskily.
Beth nods, taking a shuddering breath. "Daryl found a Polaroid camera somewhere and some film. They didn't always turn out right, because the film got hot before he found it. But I took a few pictures over a couple of months. June to September, I think."
There are seven photos. Shane suspects Beth was the photographer in all but two of them, because three have Carl with Judith, one has Sophia, another Carol, and just the last two with Beth. Judith's older in both. In one, she's sitting up on a blanket unassisted next to Beth, a stack of toy cups between them. In the other, they're reading, and by some luck, the photo is clear as day, catching both their smiles.
His hand shakes as he carefully hands her back most of the photos with the book, keeping the two with Carl, which seem to span either end of the age range Judith is in the photos. "You should keep the others, especially Carol and Sophia's."
The box of photos they took from his house is in a sealed plastic box to keep them safe from humidity or water. Beth took a few of Carl and put them into water resistant snap frames, along with photos she took from her home when they buried her father. They're hung in her cabin.
"I've got some frames left," Beth says softly, book hugged to her chest.
Shane manages to look up from the two photos with an effort. "That would be nice. Thank you."
The blonde disappears, and he can hear the footsteps into the galley. In front of him is the daughter he'll never get to see in any way other than photos. She's so tiny in the first photo. If taken in July, she was already four months old. Beth had said she was small for her age, but now he can see it.
Would things have been better, if he'd stayed? Maybe an extra able body would have kept them from nearly starving when Lori was pregnant. Being on his own was dangerous, but he never went hungry for as long as Beth's told him about happening to them. Then again, he headed south when it got cold.
The frame Beth brings back is large enough for both pictures, plus one more. She arranges the Polaroids just so, before snapping it closed. When she hands it back to Shane along with one of the adhesive hangers, she smiles sadly. "You should have the cups one. She was fascinated with those things. Anything active that kept her hands busy. Got that from you."
Shane studies the three photos and takes a deep breath at the idea of Judith having any of his characteristics without him being around at all. She looked so much like Lori that he doesn't see a lot of himself in her. Sliding out of the bed, he goes to press the adhesive hanger to the spot opposite his bed and hangs the framed photos up.
"I can't thank you enough," he tells Beth.
She shuffles her feet, wrapping her arms around her thin torso. "It's just pictures."
Shane points to the baby, who is obviously laughing as she holds two cups. It's not the toys that had her amused at that age. It's the grinning young woman who had ahold of one of her tiny bare feet. "You took care of her. Loved her."
"Like she was my own," Beth admits.
He's known that for a while, that Beth was Judith's mother when Lori couldn't be. But now he has the visual proof in front of him, and he knows she is old enough to have made that emotional leap a younger teenager might not have. They've drifted from the need for close comfort in the last two weeks, as the initial deluge of grief became more bearable. Reaching out, he tugs her into a hug.
Beth returns the embrace easily, and he wonders briefly if she's feeling adrift, going from regular contact with people to very little. He hadn't understood how touch starved he was for people until she came into his life. The dogs are wonderful, but they aren't people. When she seems inclined to continue the hug, he stays put, letting her petite frame lean into his bulk.
Eventually, she pulls away, giving him a wan smile. "Got an early morning, right?"
"Yeah. You warm enough?" They've got actual quilts from the bus in their cabins, but he has no idea if the aft cabins are as warm as his.
"Toasty, actually. But looking forward to being somewhere warm enough to swim." She wraps her fingers around the rings on her necklace and bids him goodnight.
Climbing back in bed, Shane doesn't reach for his book again. Switching the light off, he feels Muffin creep higher up the bed to resr against the small of his back. He falls asleep staring at the section of wall that holds his best momentos of his daughter aside from the small cloth doll tucked in his drawer. Fixing the past is impossible, but he can continue to looking after Judith's adoptive mother as best he can.
Shouting draws Daryl to the rec room on the floor Carol moved everyone to when she made her pact with the remaining officers and the wards that they would all stay the winter at the hospital before finding a viable home outside the city come spring. Grady is secure in a way the prison never was, even moreso with their own additions. But no one wanted to stay on the floors ruled by Dawn Lerner's corrupt cops.
They were too late to save Beth, and that's going to haunt them all for years. Daryl blames himself that the independent streak he nurtured in Beth was enough for her to escape, but he didn't give her enough skills to survive. That's changing with the younger kids.
They're going out with him daily, with the expansive resources the hospital has collected. Maybe he's not as good in the city as the countryside, but tracking is tracking. He's even been dragging that dumpy fake scientist along, all because Sophia insists Eugene deserves the chance to learn, too.
Speaking of the Texan, he's got Sophia held back, head tilted so she doesn't manage to whack into his still healing facial injuries. The manuever is classic for breaking up a school fight, giving credence to the man being a former high school teacher. Eugene isn't doing a thing to stop the girl from shouting and cursing.
Maggie's on the floor with a bloody nose, and no one's moving to assist her, not even Glenn. The Korean is backed up toward Carl and Judith, looking as shocked as Maggie. A few Grady folks are dodging the chaos in the fringes of the room.
"What the hell is going on in here?" he barks out, glad to see Sophia stops struggling when he does.
"She tried to take Beth's necklace from me!" Sophia cries out. "It's not hers, and she can't have it."
Maggie is getting to her feet slowly, eyeing Sophia warily. Unlike Beth, the teenager is taller than Maggie and months of hard work have put heft on the girl that Beth never had. Add in the festering resentment she's had toward Maggie not even looking for her sister before or after Terminus, and Daryl's honestly surprised it took two weeks for something to explode.
"It was my mother's!" Maggie says, pulling a bandana out of a pocket to staunch her bloody nose. "It should go to me."
"It was Beth's, and she would want Judith to have it, not you." Eugene lets Sophia go, and the girl clutches at the leather cord Daryl repaired, fingers protectively around the cross.
"Why you asking about it now, Maggie?" Daryl queries. Carol gave the damn thing into Sophia's keeping the first night they were here. "Girl's been wearing it for two damn weeks."
"I thought she needed time to grieve." Maggie sounds sincere, although after her dramatics when she first learned of Beth's death, she's not seemed that grief stricken herself. The Greene girls haven't been close in a long time, not since Beth took offense when Maggie didn't share her belief that Hershel would survive his amputation. Daryl just figured everyone grieves differently.
"Sounds to me like she's still attached," he tells Maggie.
"It doesn't belong to her, and Judith wasn't Beth's daughter. She didn't give birth to her."
Before Daryl can reply to that, because Beth sure as hell was that baby's mama, Sophia does, her voice practically dripping venom. "Just like Beth's mama ain't your real mama?"
Maggie reacts as if Sophia slapped her, eyes welling up with tears. "It's not the same."
"Hell it ain't." Sophia steps around Eugene to pluck Judith out of Carl's arms. "You best stop saying Beth wasn't her mama. I'll hit you harder next time."
Daryl's a little afraid that harder might involve a blunt object. "Sophia, hitting Maggie ain't the solution." Somewhere in the afterlife, Merle is laughing his ass off at that coming out of Daryl's mouth. "Why don't you and Carl take Judith down to let her play with Andre?"
As soon as the teens and baby are gone, Daryl turns back to Maggie. "You got a problem about that necklace, you take it up with Carol, not the kids, or I'll look the other way if Sophia clobbers you with something. Your daddy would be ashamed of you doing that."
Hershel would probably be upset with most of Maggie's behavior, but he's not going to judge. Hershel never once rejected the wider family they became in those long months before the Governor came the first time. Glenn's touching Maggie's shoulder lightly now, and Daryl wonders what he thinks of the mess. He'll ask him later.
Eugene watches the couple leave and sighs. "That young lady is a prime example of nurture over nature."
"Maggie?"
"No, Sophia. It's not that Carol isn't quite bold, but half the girl's mannerisms are yours."
Bold is an understatement for Carol since the prison fell. It's like accepting her banishment was the last meek thing she intended to ever do. When Eugene admitted his lie the day after they took over Grady, Abraham hadn't reacted well. Eugene ended up with a fractured orbital bone and nose.
Abraham got a bullet in the leg. Daryl's still not entirely sure it's what Carol was aiming for, although at least the meaty part of the thigh isn't a fatal wound. The big redhead is still on house arrest of sorts for now, not allowed around the children or Grady wards. The irony is that it seems to intrigue the man more than offend him.
As far as Sophia, Daryl's stopped being flustered about their attachment. She's family. "Worse people she could be imitating."
The ex-teacher just nods in agreement. "See you in the morning?"
When Daryl assents, the other man leaves, strolling down the corridor toward where Daryl sent the kids. He sticks close to the kids, Daryl, or Michonne these days, which isn't a bad thing. Sighing, Daryl goes to find Carol, and hopes Maggie understands just what sort of shit she's stirring if she keeps rejecting Beth's place in their extended family. Rick's barely on the fringes… Maggie may end up joining him.