Chapter Thirty-nine
Erin yawns into the pale sunrise, the product of another early morning start after an extremely trying day. Stepping out of the room with another armful of supplies, she stops short to narrowly avoid a collision with Kelly as they all prepare to leave the motel and continue on their journey east.
"Sorry, Erin. I just can't wait to get out of here."
"I know what you mean, Kel. I feel like if we sit still for too long, something evil is going to spin a web around us or something."
"Yeah, even the kids are antsy this morning," Kelly replies and then continues carrying her load out to the van.
Erin crosses toward the camper and stops short once again when a blue-eyed blur of black and white fuzz streaks across her path. She watches Nikki make a tail-wagging beeline for the pickup truck as Rick steps out of room number twelve with Daryl leaning heavily against him, favoring his left knee. The husky plants his big paws in front of the passenger door of Daryl's truck and looks back with a short demanding bark, letting his pack know that he is ready to roll.
"Wait for Glenn, Nik!" Daryl barks in return as he steps carefully down from the curb. "He's got the truck today, Hoss. And don't get in his way of steerin' or he'll hafta throw ya in the back!"
"You need help getting him up the stairs, Rick?" Dale asks as he places a red gas can back into the cargo storage on the side of the RV.
Daryl grunts at the question but Rick gives the man a gracious nod. "We'll manage, thanks."
"No room for the two of us on the steps as it is," Daryl grumbles and Erin winces in sympathy for her friend, whose wounds run much deeper than the bruises decorating his skin.
"I see he's even more chipper than usual this morning," Carol says quietly as she appears at Erin's side.
Erin grins at her friend's sarcasm, but her heart goes out to the dolefully troubled man. "Do you blame him?" she asks softly.
"No," Carol replies with a slight frown furrowing her brows. "Not at all," she adds gently, her voice thick with compassion as Rick and Daryl draw near. "Dale, I'm coming too so can you leave me a seat at the table in there?" she calls out.
"You got it, Carol," Dale responds as he climbs the stairs with a large duffel bag.
"Great," Daryl mutters in derision. "It's bad enough that yer stickin' me in the back of that eight-cylinder clinic, but now I can't even enjoy my own company. I don't need a damn babysitter."
Erin catches a quick glance from Rick as he replies, "No you don't, Daryl. But just let her ride along with you anyway."
"With all the different patients revolving through that bed this week, the camper really is like a mobile clinic," Kelly says, passing by Erin on her way back to her room.
So true Erin thinks as she watches Daryl grab onto the edge of the RV door and then hesitate before pulling himself up onto the first step. He turns his head to the left, peering beyond Rick to glance at the western horizon. Erin's throat tightens when he dips his chin in a brief salute, casting a final goodbye to his brother.
They had buried Merle under a big elm tree overlooking Harper Road. It was a quick ceremony with few words and fewer tears, spilled more for the bereft brother who sat numbly next to the grave with his quiet thoughts of forgiveness while grace and pity floated on the breeze around him.
Now, the bereaved brother wrestles the anger eating at his heart as he struggles to climb awkwardly, painfully, up the narrow stairs. When Rick is freed from Daryl's grip, he quickly disappears into the passenger door to help his friend from the other side.
As Daryl is pulled into the vehicle and out of sight, Erin puts a conciliatory arm around Carol. "Good luck in there."
"I don't know what the big deal is," Carol says, sounding somewhat dejected. "Two people can breathe the same air without actually stealing it from each other." She gives Erin a small grin packed with a humble apology and says, "At least he can't run away from me."
Erin releases a surprised laugh and smiles at the comment, knowing that her friend is referring to the time when Carol had adamantly avoided her for several days, keeping her distance after Erin had first confronted her about her abusive marriage. "No he can't." She gives Carol's shoulder a warm squeeze, forgiving her early resistance. "And a true friend never stays away."
Carol tilts her head close and Erin rests her temple against the woman's short gray hair, recognizing the gesture as the sincere thanks it is meant to be; gratitude for caring enough about a stranger in need, and tremendous appreciation for not giving up on that stranger.
Daryl may not need a protector in the same sense that Carol did, but he does need a friend. And it's easy to see that Carol can relate to the introverted hunter better than anyone else in their group. Their hearts are pierced with the same piece of fractured glass that reflects a broken spirit. But maybe they can smooth out the rough edges in each other to create a clear pane of trust and tenderness. If only he'll give her the chance. Then maybe his heart will heal as quickly as the bruises.
Ten minutes later Erin settles into the front seat of the van and watches Carol climb into the camper. Daryl may lay in the sole fellowship of his desolate heart, but he will not be alone. "Alright, buckle up now," Erin tells the two kids occupying the seats behind her as Rick rounds the bumper to take his place behind the wheel.
"Do I have to?" Carl complains, his voice matching the mood he's been shrouded in all morning. While Sophia and Duane had been anxious and chatty, Carl had been quiet, disheartened.
Concerned, Erin turns in her seat to face him. She gives him a smile with a playful poke at his leg, hoping to bring him out of the funk he'd woken up in. "You know you have to buckle up, honey."
"Erin, Michonne is over the line and she's touching me!" Amy calls out from the rear bench in legendary family vacation fashion, eliciting a peal of giggles and brightening the atmosphere tremendously.
"Are we there yet?" Michonne whines in a tag-team effort and more laughter erupts inside the van.
The sound is infectious and Erin welcomes it wholeheartedly after all they've suffered the last few days. Nothing eases the weight of the woeful more than a good laugh shared with a friend. She smiles brightly at Rick as he climbs into his seat across the console. "Don't ask," she says in response to the questioning look he gives her as he fits the key into the ignition.
"Enough said," he replies with a surrendering glance. "We all set in here?"
"Yeah," Erin answers and turns her chin slightly. "As long as Michonne keeps her hands to herself back there."
Carl lets out a raucous cackle and more laughter ensues, the convoy of hilarity picking up speed once again.
"That's it," Michonne cries. "I'm riding in the pickup with Glenn and Nikki!"
Among all the voices chortling in merriment Erin hears Rick release a deep chuckle of his own, infected by the sweet silliness ringing around him. Smiling, he shakes his head in joyful confusion as he pulls out of the parking lot, leaving behind the sleepy town of Lincoln Park and the sorrowful memories lying in the shadows beyond it.
Steering around an overturned U-Haul on Waymanville Road, Rick squints into the rising sun as the voices of his passengers quietly turn inward, each settling in for another long stretch on the not-so open road. It was good to hear them laughing, even if he didn't know what they were laughing at. It didn't matter. Just to know that they are still capable of it means that there is still a life worth fighting for.
He glances at Erin and notices her looking into the side-view mirror, observing the road behind them. Or more likely staring at the RV and wondering how Daryl is doing back there. And Carol too for that matter. He narrows his eyes at his lover as he recalls the moment when Carol had called out to Dale. "Did you tell Carol to ride in the camper?"
"No, she did that on her own," Erin replies, looking back at him. "And it was very nice of her to offer."
"Yes, it was. As long as it wasn't an attempt at matchmaking on your part."
"Of course not. But now that you mention it," she says with a grin that is slightly too innocent. "They could be very good for each other."
"Stay out of it, Red."
"I'm not in it," she says defensively. "But I am glad he has you, Rick. He needs you, honey, more than anyone else."
He reaches over and squeezes her hand, thinking of his quiet friend and the surprisingly strong bond that has developed between them in such a short time. Though Shane had been like a brother, their views and ideals had differed greatly and it wasn't always an easy relationship. While there was usually a degree of love and trust, there wasn't always honor and devotion. With Daryl, they'd developed a tremendous respect between them and a true appreciation for each other that makes their relationship flow effortlessly.
There's no doubt that Shane's death had left a sizable hole in Rick's heart, but maybe Daryl had a foot in the space even before Shane had taken off for Fort Benning. Daryl has had his back – and those of his loved ones – since the very beginning, no matter what. Night or day, thick or thin, he's been right there for him. No fuss, no furor – just there to protect his blind side. Maybe that's the mark of a true brother. He gives Erin an honest nod. "Yeah. I'm here for him."
Her lashes lower slightly as she tilts her chin, looking back at him with keen eyes that seem to be concentrating on his thoughts and reading them as he himself is thinking them. "And maybe you need him just as much."
He nods slowly in agreement, coming to accept that fact as she lifts his hand to her mouth and presses a soft kiss to his knuckles. Maybe I do.
As underdogs in a race against the setting sun, the day moves quickly as they struggle to sprint along back roads clogged with one obstruction after another. They are finally forced to stop in Pineview, a small town southeast of Macon.
The Twin Pine Inn, an abandoned Bed and Breakfast most likely named for the two towering trees that welcome you up the long winding driveway, sits proudly at the top of a good-sized front lawn. Its roof of brown shingles protects the large beige structure beneath it as the hunter green shutters keep the secrets of its visitors.
After years of honeymooners and happy families to occupy the rooms, and then weeks upon weeks of a silence not strong enough to stir the dust, tonight the beds will hold a band of refugees that carry enough pain to make the shutters look away in respectful sympathy.