A/N Gosh, thank you all so much! Our couple seem to have a very strong attraction, now what are they thinking and feeling? Let's find out.
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Beth's nerves are jangled, her tummy is doing flips and her hands are shaking. She's afraid to speak, she isn't even sure what she would say if she could speak, so she simply nods her head and hurries off.
For some reason he just can't seem to take his eyes off her. He stands quietly watching until she completely disappears around the front of the house. It's probably for the best, she might faint at the knowledge his eyes never left her.
Once inside she finally takes a breath, and what she does next convinces her she's lost what's left of her mind. No one is even there to witness her actions and yet she's red-faced, embarrassed and ashamed of herself. Although, none of those feelings of guilt prevent her from taking the action.
She goes to the window in the dining room and stands off to the side, attempting to hide as she watches him. Every move he makes, no matter how simple or ordinary it might be, seems so manly and…well, she's not sure what it is about Daryl Dixon. She only knows that watching him has her heart beating faster.
He opens the baker style back doors of a panel truck and lifts out a large square box. He holds it with one hand and balanced on one forearm as if it weighs nothing at all. She can see it's cumbersome and she's sure it must be heavy, and she doesn't miss the definition of his muscles as they strain against the fabric of his shirt. She's so engrossed she's not aware that the sight of it all has her hand quickly covering her mouth as she whispers, "Oh my."
He reaches in with his free hand and lifts out a table fan. She thinks how fortunate for him that he owns such a nice appliance. Although the rooms do have ceiling fans, the upstairs gets stuffy in this heat and the fan will help him stay cooler at night.
She shakes her head as in her mind she hears her Mama's voice scolding, "and just why in the world are you concerned with this man's comfort Elizabeth Greene?"
Beth tries telling herself she's not concerned with him in any way at all. She's only trying to find out a little something about the stranger who will be sleeping right upstairs. Right above her room. That's all there is to it. Isn't that the right thing to do?
She's having a bit of trouble convincing herself.
Now both his arms are full and she watches as he pushes one of the truck doors shut with his knee, then turns and shuts the other by hitting it with his bottom. For some reason his movements have her feeling even more flustered and guilty, and there's some other feeling she's not so sure of at all as she watches him walk toward the side door.
Suddenly she's fearful, oh my goodness, what if he sees her? She can't allow that to happen, she would surely die a thousand deaths. With that thought in mind and a bothering conscience she hurries off to her room and gathers up her town dress, her clean underthings and turns to make her way to the bathroom. Then stops.
She lays her things neatly on the bed, sits down in her chair and quietly listens. Again, she tells herself what she's doing is disgraceful and again she's feeling guilty. Yet she continues to sit and listen for sounds of him, the poor man. Shame on her. Yet shame can't seem to stop her.
For such a manly sort of fellow his footfalls are surprisingly light and quiet, much more so than Mister Jim's were. She's listening intently as she hears his door close. There are sounds of him rummaging around a bit, no doubt putting his clothes away and whatnot, and now she finds herself wondering if he's the tidy type or the messy type.
Shame on her again, it's none of her business what Mister Daryl is or isn't. My goodness, when did she become such a busybody?
She shakes her head in self-disgust as she gathers her things again and quickly makes her way to the bathroom, but she doesn't miss hearing when he shuts his door and walks back down the stairs. Nor does she fail to hear him leave out the side door and start up his truck.
Hmm, well maybe he's just driving back to his former residence to get more of his things.
Once in the bathroom she shuts and locks the door, leaning her back against it and feeling oddly relieved. She didn't get caught, then she whispers to herself, "That's it Beth, the living proof. You have lost complete control of your faculties. My goodness, a handsome stranger comes to the door and you behave like a criminal."
What she needs is to fill that tub with cold water and shock herself back into her right mind.
As he's retrieving the things from the back of his truck he's wondering what the hell is wrong with him. Does he have a screw loose or something? There's no one around but he'd swear he can feel eyes on him, he wonders if it could possibly be her watching him.
That would be swell alright, but it's just wishful thinking. He shakes his head while reprimanding himself for even thinking those thoughts about the pretty hired girl, and daring to imagine she would have any interest in him and what he's doing. Although he does find he can't help accidentally spending a moment thinking of how nice it would be if she were interested in sneaking a peek at him.
Shit, what an idiot. Besides, he doesn't have time to be daydreaming about pretty women. One pretty woman. He has things to do. He's got to get back down to earth, get his things put away and get back out to his place. There are still a few hours of daylight remaining and a man can get quite a lot done in a few hours. Especially if he sets his mind on something besides small blonde women.
He enters his room and it's not bad. It's kind of like what he had at the apartment, a bed, two bedside tables and a bureau. He's also got an easy chair and a small writing desk. He grudgingly admits to himself it's nice, and even if it wasn't, he's only going to be there a few months.
As he puts his clothes away he catches himself daydreaming about her. He wonders how long Beth Greene has been working for Horvath's and where she's from. He can tell by the slower way she talks and her more pronounced drawl that although she's most assuredly from Georgia, she's no city girl. The woman is country through and through.
She probably came to the city for the same reason a lot of country folk do these days, desperation. Farms are drying up; the earth is turning hard and unforgiving and folks need work. People need to eat and to be able to feed and clothe their families. What most of them find out when they arrive is that these days the city isn't any better than the country for finding work.
He finds himself wondering if she has a family, someone she sends money home to. A husband, children. Then he scolds himself, shit why should he care if she's married? She's nothing to him, just some hired girl at this boarding house where he never wanted to be in the first place. If he has his way he won't be here long.
Besides, he doesn't have time for distractions. He has work and a place to finish, and once he gets it done his life will be pretty damn perfect. He'll have everything he needs. Hunting, fishing, open space, all of it right there on his own property. He can't think of any good reason to complicate that.
All of that may be true, but on the other hand there is one problem, she's a distraction whether he wants her to be or not. Damn, she's already occupying his mind. He needs to work harder so he can get moved to his own place even sooner than he originally planned. Just as soon as he's got the plumbing in so he can do things like shower up and be decent for work. Then he can move out of this boarding house for good.
Full of firm new resolve he quickly finishes his unpacking and hurries down the stairs. He tells himself how glad he is to be getting out of this place. Yet he finds he's also hoping he'll catch a glimpse of her as he leaves. When he has no such luck he's a little stunned by the wave of disappointment that washes over him. That's when he reprimands himself in Merle's voice, "What's the matter little brother, that tiny blonde gal already turned ya into a whooped pup?"
No dammit.
Still it happens. On the drive to his place he begins to daydream about her once again. He can see her in his mind's eye. She's standing on the edge of the pond in a yellow cotton dress with no shoes on her feet and her pretty blonde hair hanging loose. Her cheeks are pink from the sun and she's smiling so happily, and right at him. Her bright blue eyes sparkle as she giggles and asks him to please bait her hook, explaining she can't stand to touch those nasty worms.
He feels himself smiling right back and anxious to please her as he takes the pole from her hand, just before he mentally punches himself in the jaw. Shit you idiot, that ain't ever going to come about.
He's sure of it now, he's lost his damn mind.
When she's done in the bathroom she goes straight to her room and changes from her town clothes back into one of her everyday dresses. She's lost her desire to go to town, in fact she's feeling a bit glum. She breathes a quiet sigh and tries very hard not to be too honest with herself, but deep down she knows part of the reason she doesn't want to leave is, when Mister Daryl returns she wants to be there. Just to say hello.
Then she berates herself for what must be the 100th time today, is she really such a pitiful creature?
There's more to her lack of desire to visit the city than just him though. She finds Atlanta to be a wonderful place in many ways. There's a shop for everything anyone could ever want, and with the streetcar it's very convenient to get there and back home. But there are aspects of the city she doesn't find appealing at all.
There are so many people and vehicles and everything is such a mad rush. It no longer holds the same excitement it did when it was all new to her. Now it mostly feels loud and chaotic. She's actually quite grateful the boarding house isn't any closer to the city. It also happens to be true that she's already purchased every item she requires for quite some time, now she's interested in saving her money.
Lately she finds herself feeling confused about where in the world she truly belongs.
She's homesick and yet she doesn't want to go home. She's been sending money to her Daddy every week, a whole dollar. But yesterday she was missing him an awful lot and when she received her weekly pay she slipped an extra dollar in the envelop. Just in case there's something he's in need of. She loves and misses him, but she doesn't want to go back there. Not for good.
And why does she keep thinking about Mister Dixon?
She wishes there was someone she could talk to, but there's only one safe place to share all the feelings she's having. She gets her journal and pen out of the bureau drawer and begins to write.
He's working on the plumbing with renewed energy, more anxious than ever to get it completed. Soon he'll be able to start hooking things up. He has all the fixtures laying on a tarp in the parlor just waiting to be installed.
He got a real good deal on some nice ones at the salvage yard. A lot of the stuff there is useless, but if a fella's willing to look through a couple acres of junk he's liable to find a treasure.
After the big fire many of the city's structures that weren't burned to the ground still had too much damage to ever be livable again. That gave the owner of a local salvage business, a fellow named Axel, an idea. He made a deal with the city to haul off any items that could possibly be reused and move them to his junkyard. The promise being that if they should happen to sell, he'd pay the city 10% of what he made. Since the building owners had already received insurance money, everyone was satisfied.
Daryl would have preferred common white fixtures but he can live with the ones he got. Besides, he couldn't very well pass up such a good deal. They're brand new and the price was a fraction of what he'd pay for new ones, and anyway, pale yellow isn't such a terrible color. He does wonder though, who the hell deliberately wants a colored toilet? They probably came out of a hotel or some rich person's house.
Anyway, they'll do. The sink is wide and deep and the tub is plenty big enough for a man to soak in. The toilet will be just fine as soon as he installs a new flapper and tank lever. Fully functional. What else matters?
For now he's working outside. He has been since he got to the place today. He's busy soldering the copper pipe that leads from the well and will eventually connect to the plumbing he's put under the house. Most plumbers would use galvanized steel or even cast iron, but he worries they'll eventually corrode or leech. Besides, it just so happened there was a lot of copper pipe at the salvage yard.
When he gets the plumbing hooked up he'll be able to get fresh water in the house, he's anxious for that. He's sick of hauling water in buckets. He'll still have the waste lines to complete, but at least there's an end in sight.
He's been at it steady but now the sunlight is beginning to fade. He's trying to get just a little more done before he loses the light completely.
The work he's doing is the sort that doesn't require a great deal of thought, maybe that's the reason he finds himself daydreaming again. But not about the usual stuff. When he's working his mind usually wanders to thoughts of fishing and hunting, like remembering past adventures or planning new ones. That's not the case this late afternoon.
He finds his mind going back to his earlier daydream of her at the pond. She sure looked pretty in the yellow dress he imagined her in, and she sure has pretty yellow hair. He wonders what she'd think of the yellow bathroom fixtures. The he cusses himself, "Shit, you're a damn idiot. It don't matter, she ain't ever gonna see em. Keep your mind offa her n on your work."
He manages to do just that, at least for the next few minutes, then hunger begins to gnaw at his belly. He doesn't want to stop what he's doing to eat, he wants to burn up the last of the daylight before he quits. Besides, dinner isn't anything to look forward to, it'll just do it's job and get him full. He'll be lighting a fire, opening a big can of beans and dumping those along with some salted meat in a pot. He'll eat corn straight from the can, and have white bread and jam for dessert.
He wonders what she's cooking the men for dinner tonight. And then he wonders exactly who these men are. He only saw one of them, a big redheaded fella named Abraham who seemed friendly enough, but they only passed in the hall and only spoke long enough to introduce themselves.
He doesn't even know his brow has creased as it suddenly occurs to him, she's living in a house full of single men. She's so pretty there have to be several of those fellas who find her as attractive as he does. He wonders, does she sit with them to take her meals? Does she visit with them in the parlor in the evenings?
Shit, why does he care? It doesn't make one bit of difference what she does or doesn't choose to do. He's busy with his own life.
She's supposed to be off work and relaxing but how can she do that while Miss Erma is doing all the work alone? She and Mister Horvath have been so good to Beth and she really doesn't mind helping.
She'll never forget how nice it felt that first Sunday when she attended church with them. She'd been so nervous and overwhelmed to be in a new place full of people she didn't know, but after services Miss Erma held her hand as they introduced her to their friends. The couple never said, "This is our hired girl, or this is the help." They said, "This is Miss Beth Greene. She's been kind enough to agree to help us at the boarding house, isn't that lovely?"
Her thoughts lead her to wonder if the new boarder attends church, oh my, she's being so silly. She has to stop wasting her time thinking of him, besides it's shameful to spend so much time thinking of a man, and just plain ridiculous. Anyway, she's busy.
She's setting the dinner table when Mister Horvath walks through the dining room on his way to the parlor. He stops to tell her, "don't bother to set a place for the new boarder. He won't be taking Saturday evening meals with us nor either meal on Sundays."
"Oh. Yes, of course. Thank you for letting me know." She wants so badly to ask why that is, but it's not her business to ask and anyway she shouldn't care.
Then her heart sinks when the reason occurs to her. Oh my goodness of course, he's a married man. Just like Mister Jim.
It was Mister Jim himself who told her the story. When the bank where he was employed failed, he was without income or resources and soon lost his home as well. He moved his wife and children to the home of her Mama and Daddy in Albany, but the only work he could find was as a bus driver in Atlanta. He would stay at the boarding house during the week and every Friday night he would take the bus to Albany to see his family, not returning until late Sunday. Just last week he was finally able to transfer his route down to Albany and join his family at the home of his wife's parents.
She decides it has to be the very the same type of circumstance for the new boarder. Mister Daryl must spend his weekends with his wife and children. After all, he moved in very few possessions. And besides, it only makes sense that a man as strong and handsome as him would have a wife and children.
With that realization she feels such a deep sadness in her heart. She doesn't fully understand her feelings. She only knows that never has she been so attracted to another human being.
She tries to remedy her sadness by applying common sense. She reminds herself, "You don't even know this man Beth. He's a stranger and you have no idea what sort of person he is."
She's so bothered she's happy to have the distraction of helping with dinner, and after the men have eaten she insists on doing the clean up. Miss Erma then stipulates, "Beth, Dear. I can't let you work all the time. I'm going to pay you extra this week."
"Oh no Miss Erma, you already do so much for me. You've allowed me the use of your sewing machine and access to all of your wonderful books. And it's because of you I've met so many nice folks at church. I was so happy when you mentioned to the preacher that I play piano and sing, I'd missed participating in services. You and Mister Horvath have been so wonderful to me and I love my home here."
Miss Erma gives her a hug and smiles, "Well it seems we've both been blessed." In spite of protests, when the end of the week comes Beth will find an extra dollar and a fifty-cent piece in her pay envelop.
Although work on Sunday is forbidden, the preacher has suggested that during these hot summer months the Lord pardons believers if they do certain chores such as dishes, because to leave them until Monday could encourage vermin. So, Sunday afternoon when the men are done with their meal Beth washes the dishes and puts them away, grateful that at least there are no dirty pots and pans. Her hands are becoming so red and chapped they're painful.
She's promised herself the remainder of the day will be only for rest. She retrieves the book she's reading from her room. She's just begun it and she's already quite fascinated and anxious to read more. It's called The Black Arrow: A Tale of the Two Roses and was written by the great poet Robert Louis Stevenson. Mister Horvath told her it's an historical adventure to which Miss Erma added, "With quite a share of Romance."
It's the usual evening and Sunday afternoon habit for the men to either sit on the upstairs balcony while some smoke cigarettes and all tell stories, or gather in the parlor to read and listen to the radio.
Beth prefers to spend these times outside, sitting on the front porch steps where she can be alone and get lost in her story, taking only the occasional break to close her eyes and enjoy the Sunday quiet or gaze up at the blue and cloudless sky. It's a pleasant reminder of life in the country.
This afternoon she once again finds her mind wandering, and once again it wanders to thoughts of him. Something has changed though. She's no longer embarrassed by her thoughts, instead they make her sad. There's even a tear in her eye because she can no longer deny the truth to herself, she has a fascination with Daryl Dixon and nothing can ever come of it.
What the hell is wrong with him? He's nearly driven himself crazy with thoughts of her and they don't even know each other. Shit, that didn't seem to stop him from dreaming of her last night. What's worse, it was the sort of dream he shouldn't have been having about such a sweet young woman. Dammit.
He woke up sweaty, frustrated and angry with himself, and not at all in the mood to work on his place. It doesn't matter though, the work needs doing and that's that.
His mood is foul as he opens a can of peaches for breakfast, causing him to cuss again. He's getting sick and tired of canned everything. He needs to get this damn place done so he can take the time to cook himself a decent meal. He eats the fruit with the last of his bread and jam, drinks a mug of coffee and starts his day.
He works until it's noon straight up before deciding enough is enough. He needs to release some tension. He puts his tools away, straightens up his things and pronounces the workday done.
He grabs his bow and the quiver of arrows and sets out to find a rabbit for his afternoon meal. He has luck almost immediately. He quickly skins and dresses out the animal, threads a branch through it and builds a small fire, finally starting to relax a little as he sits and cooks his lunch on the makeshift spit.
After the meal is consumed he decides to get his pole, why not? That's just what he needs, to walk the property for a few minutes and work out the knots in his muscles, then an hour or two at the pond fishing. He doesn't even care whether or not he catches anything, but it turns out he does, six real nice ones. It won't be enough for a dinner meal but hopefully Miz Horvath and Miss Beth can use them for something, he isn't even concerned about getting anything off the price of his room. Not for six fish he enjoyed catching.
He cleans the fish and puts them in a burlap bag, then washes himself up as best he can. He locks up the house, makes sure his fires are out and douses them with water just to be sure. He's set to go.
He notices he's driving a little fast as he heads back to town, and he's even smiling as he goes. This turned out to be a good weekend in spite of it all. He got quite a bit done on the place and even did a little fishing. Those things aren't the only ones causing him to smile, he's also looking forward to seeing a certain blonde woman.
He's no longer sorry for his thoughts of her. He's resigned himself to a few things, including admitting to himself he's attracted to the pretty blonde, very much so. There just happens to be two troublesome problems. Number one is, what if she's married? And what does that matter? Because the other problem is, he doesn't know a thing about women like her.
As he turns onto the street he sees her up ahead. She's sitting on the front steps reading a book and looking just as sweet as he remembers. When he comes to a stop at the curb she looks up, seems a little startled at first and then smiles shyly.
He nods as he shuts the ignition off and gets out of the truck, walking around it to speak to her. She's already on her feet and speaking first, "Hello Mister Daryl, welcome back."
"Hey Miss Beth, thanks. Um, Mister Horvath said he'd like ta have some fish if I caught any, ya know for meals and such around here. Anyway, I got a few, can I bring em round back for ya?"
"How nice, yes please. I can meet you at the back porch entrance."
She hurries in, absentmindedly setting the book on the kitchen counter before walking out to the porch. She's waiting when he pulls around and she finds herself smiling at the man, she just can't help it. Besides, he's smiling too.
He shuts off the ignition, hops form the truck and tells her, "I got em in the back," as he opens the baker's doors and pulls out the burlap sack.
He climbs the back porch steps and she reaches her hand out to take the sack from him, but he insists, "Nah, I'll carry em in for ya."
He follows her to the kitchen and sets the bag in the sink, letting her know, "They're cleaned n all, but I don't think there's quite enough for a meal for everyone."
She assures him, "Oh but they'll be lovely to have. Would you like me to prepare them with breakfast in the morning?"
Damn, why do those everyday words sound so good coming from her? "Yeah I sure would, I'd like it a lot. Thanks."
He's trying not to stare at her and so his eyes stray to the counter and her book. He looks at it and then at her and asks, "Whatcha readin', one a them romance novels?"
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A/N I hope you enjoyed this week's chapter and that you'll leave a comment. The chapter photo is on my tumblr blogs gneebee and bethylmethbrick, please have a look. I'll be back next Friday with a new chapter of The Stranger Upstairs, and I hope you'll be here too. Until then stay safe and remember, I love ya large! xo gneebee