A/N Poor Beth has had a terrible day, but at least she's on her way to Daryl's and maybe things will get better. Let's check in on them...
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He kept glancing over at her as they made the drive to his place. Her eyes were closed but he didn't think she was asleep, still she looked so tired and pale it worried him. She needed rest, that's what was going to help her heal.
They pulled in at his place and he hurried to help her out of the pickup. He knew she was weak and he offered to carry her, but she was being stubborn again, "Daryl I can walk by myself."
He let her think he was in agreement, "Yeah, go on then."
She hadn't taken two steps when her knees buckled. He'd been anticipating something like that and he was ready when it happened. He scooped her up in his arms and as good as she felt there, it was all he could do not to get after her. Instead he smiled to himself because he knew, she was no more stubborn than him. He just hoped that maybe now she'd realize a little help wasn't such a bad thing.
He carried her in the house and carefully sat her down in his big chair, holding her feet up while he scooted the ottoman under her legs. He covered her with a lap blanket and asked, "Ya need anythin'?"
She wasn't used to being tended to and she marveled at the way this rough and rugged man could be so tender and careful with her. "Thank you, Daryl. This is perfect, really. You didn't have to do all this for me, and I'm very grateful you did."
He looked uncomfortable, shrugging and chewing at his lip he responded, "It's the right thing. I damn sure ain't leavin' ya alone ta care for yourself." Then he quietly mumbled, "Anyway, I wanted to."
His voice was a little clearer when he asked, "Anythin' else I can get ya?"
She smiled weakly and answered, "The only other thing I really want is to get out of these hospital scrubs. I need to have a bath and put my own things on."
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than her looked changed. She appeared so distraught and he was afraid she might start crying again. "Oh no, but my things. I'm going to have to wash them before I can ever wear them. Whoever that person was…he…I'm going to have to wash them."
"Don't worry bout that now, we're gonna get it all done. First I gotta call Sheriff Grimes and let him know what happened at your place. Just please, don't try n get up or nuthin', k?"
"I promise."
He went to the phone nook in the hall and dialed the operator, "Yeah, um Ma'am can ya connect me with the sheriff's office please?"
No more than a minute later the sheriff was on the line, "Hey Rick, it's Daryl. Yeah, we got us a problem." He told the sheriff what they'd found when they got to her place, including the part about her missing purse and the open door.
"So there's property missing too?"
"Yeah there is. A sewin' machine, a radio, some kinda cameo pin that was her Mom's and twenty-two bucks in cash."
"We'd be hard pressed to identify any cash, but maybe we'll have some luck with the other stuff. Can y'all meet me over there?"
"Can't do it sheriff. I know it's important but Beth ain't doin' so hot and I ain't leavin' her."
"I understand. I'll call her sister and see if she can meet me. Are you two gonna be at your place the rest of the day then?"
"Yeah we are."
When he got off the line with the sheriff he called his brother, "Yeah, hey Merle. Me an Beth are back at my place. Yeah it's rough but she's doin' okay. So um, would ya mind keepin' Mick with ya for a while? I just need ta get Beth settled in. Yeah, home in time for supper sounds just right, but I'm here if ya decide ta bring her sooner. And hey, thanks brother."
He went back in the living room to find Beth sound asleep. He pulled the blanket up and tucked it around her, leaned in and came within a breath of kissing her forehead. He mumbled to himself, "Shit, what the hell's wrong with me?" She stirred and he stood still willing her to drift back off, relieved when she did.
He went out to the pickup and got the bag with her things, carrying it to the back porch. He asked himself, Why not? He'd already seen and touched them, and he knew she wanted out of the hospital stuff and in her own things. She'd feel better. That's what he wanted most, for her to feel better.
He opened the lid of the Maytag, reached his hand in the bag and tried not to look, but he wanted to look. Besides, he'd have to see and touch them all if he was going to wash and dry them. He felt the book in the bottom of the bag, took it out and set it on the small folding table. Then the soap, shampoo, toothbrush and hairbrush.
White. Her underpants were white cotton. There was a narrow elastic waist band, and he was sure it rested somewhere just north of her bellybutton. The leg bands were wider and he imagined they reached at least two inches beyond the top of her thigh. He laughed a little to himself as he thought, shit she's modest right down to her underwear.
Then his mind began to wander. He could imagine her in them, shit he could imagine all kinds of things with Beth Greene. He admonished himself, "Knock it off ya fuckin' weirdo."
He started to grab the box of Tide, then thought better of it. He ought to use the same stuff for her wash he did for Mick's. They both had delicate looking skin. He reached for the box of Ivory Snow.
As soon as the washer was running he turned to go check on her, then he remembered the book on the folding table. Maybe she'd like to read a little when she woke up. That was the first time he actually looked at it. His mouth dropped open at the sight of the illustration on the cover, then he read the title, "His Captive Lover in Velvet Chains."
He mumbled to himself, "What the fuck is this shit…some kinda porn in a book?" Maybe it wasn't hers. Maybe that sumbitch that broke in her place dropped the bag. Except he'd seen her with that bag at the library. Was this the kind of book a woman like her checked out? It seemed so out of character. All along he'd thought she was the innocent and modest type.
Shit, had he read all the signs wrong? He supposed he could have, but no. She'd shown herself to him in the way she was, the way she talked, the way she was with Mick. All that stuff. He saw how red-faced she got just trying to have a conversation, and he'd seen the way she reacted to the sight of her panties on the floor. Speaking of that, the kind of panties she wore, not to mention the pajamas, that stuff didn't seem to match up with the type of book she had in her carry bag.
Maybe when she was feeling better he'd ask her about it. Maybe. If he got up the guts. Maybe not.
He stashed the book in an upper kitchen cabinet where Mick wouldn't come across it, checked on her and found her still sleeping.
He had a rabbit in the fridge he'd thawed in case they didn't catch fish. He was glad for it now. He got it in the pot cooking low and slow, now he just had to hope she liked a rabbit stew. He had another thought. Mick was always begging him to make Jell-O, maybe Beth would like that too. He made the only kind he ever made, strawberry. He cracked a tray of ice so he could make it the fast way, and he had one banana left and that was going in it. He almost smiled, if nothing else at least dinner was a done deal.
Working in the garage, standing on his feet all day pulling engines and transmissions, lifting heavy tires and car batteries, none of that was as hard on a man as what he'd been through this day. Shit, it felt like it had been a day and a half, and it was only mid-afternoon. He was exhausted.
He knew what was causing it. It was worry, plain and simple. He'd been worried sick about her since he got to the diner and she wasn't there. Then there was the strain it put on his heart and his head when he saw her so battered. There was the rush of anger at the guy who hit her, and for some reason he was sure it was that same son of a bitch who'd broken in her place.
He started toward the front room where he found that Beth was still sound asleep. He never napped during the day himself, but this day was different. He laid down on the couch, hoping for a few minutes of quiet and rest.
He figured he got in about ten-minutes of sleep before the sound of a car pulling up to the house woke him. Merle and Mick he thought. He jumped off the couch and moved quickly toward the door, wanting to hurry and open it before Merle came in with his loud talk and woke her up.
He'd just gotten his hand on the door knob when there was loud banging and a voice yelled, "Open the gosh darn door."
It was loud enough it startled Beth awake and he pulled the door open ready to yell at someone, maybe even throw a punch.
He didn't because whoever this crazy brunette was, she was a woman. He'd never hit a woman, and besides, the sheriff was with her. She barked, "Where's my sister hillbilly?" Then she spotted Beth. She pushed the man aside as she made a beeline to her.
She gently wrapped her sister in her arms and they both began to softly cry. Then the brunette took in a breath and toughened up again, "Oh my hell, Bethie, Bethie what in God's holy name happened to you?"
Beth's voice was a little too weak to be convincing when she replied, "I'm fine Maggie. Just tired and sore and I'm dying to have a bath."
That's when Daryl was finally able to speak, "I got your clothes in the wash but they ain't quite done yet."
Beth already wanted to die at the thought of Daryl washing her panties, then it got worse. Maggie looked from one to the other and asked, "So, you're doing each other's wash now? This romance didn't take long."
In spite of the cuts, bruises and swelling, he could see Beth's face turn scarlet. Daryl tried to save her and himself both from more embarrassment when he spoke up again, "It ain't what you're thinkin'…whoever was in her place…well…she didn't like that he touched her…her private things."
He was stunned when her sister started to giggle, "Oh Bethie, isn't that just like you? You get hit by a car and it's just plain luck you're not killed. Besides that your darn house gets robbed, and all you're worried about is some weirdo touching your panties."
Then she glanced over at Daryl and asked, "So do you have a bathtub here hillbilly?"
Beth was sick and tired of all this talk about her panties, but she was also angry and she got stern with her sister, "Stop that Maggie. You know good n well his name is Daryl. He's been taking wonderful care of me and you should be thanking him."
Then she glanced up at him and saw that look of embarrassment. She gave him as much of a smile as she was able to and said, "Daryl, in case you haven't guessed yet, this is my sister, Maggie."
Daryl had already caught on it was the sister, and he'd just had both an earful and an eyeful of how different she and Beth were. The sister didn't seem one bit shy about anything. He also hadn't missed Beth's compliment. As much as he liked it and liked knowing she'd mentioned him to her sister sometime before, he wished he could do so much more for her. She looked so hurt and so frail.
For the moment he simply told Maggie, "Bathroom's right down the hall there. There's fresh towels on the shelf. I got her bath things in her carry bag, hang on."
As soon as he left the room Maggie loudly whispered, "I see why you like this hillbilly with his manly, half-wild look. He just doesn't seem quite like your type of fella."
"Maggie you stop right now!"
Daryl had just stepped back in the room when the sheriff finally cleared his throat to remind everyone he was there. He teased, "As much as I'm enjoying all of this, I do need to talk to Daryl. Beth, I'm not going to bother you with any of it right now. Maggie gave me a description of the things that were taken. If we come across any of those items we'll just need you to identify them."
Daryl responded, "Yeah, sure Rick. Lemme just put these things in the bathroom, then we can step out on the porch and talk."
Beth had a bath just that morning yet she felt such a powerful need to wash off everything that had happened to her that day. She felt dirty, violated and so many people had touched her at the hospital. Only one of them, Daryl, was anyone she wanted to have touch her. Still Beth protested, "But Maggie, I can't take a bath yet. I don't want to put these terrible hospital things back on."
Maggie was quick to provide a solution, "Hill…Daryl do you have a fresh t-shirt?"
"Yeah. I did wash Friday night. Why?"
"Why don't you get one for Beth? You're so much bigger than her it'll fit her like a nightgown."
Beth tried to protest again, "Maggie…"
Her sister wasn't listening, "Hush now Bethie, there's no difference between the t-shirt and your pajamas. C'mon, let's get you bathed, you're going to feel so much better."
He helped Beth to the bathroom, lowered the lid on the toilet and told her, "Sit here while I get the water started so it can get warm." He turned the two handles and got what he thought was a good mix of hot and cold, then thought to ask her, "Ya want some a Mick's bubble bath? It's the kind for babies so it's gentle."
"That would be so nice. Thank you Daryl."
He didn't know why he felt so worried. He wished like hell he could just stay in there with her and help her bathe. That wasn't even a remote possibility, besides, her sister was there to help. He settled for saying, "If ya need anythin' just holler. I won't be far."
He'd barely closed the door, his hand still on the knob when he heard a loud sound, something like a yelp followed immediately by the sound of Beth crying. He pushed on the door but Maggie pushed against him.
Beth's sister stuck her head partially out the narrow opening between the door and the jamb. She looked different, her face appeared softer yet also more concerned. She placed her hand on his and quietly whispered, "She'll be okay Daryl. She just saw her reflection in the mirror. She's upset. I'll talk to her."
He was biting his lip, nodding in agreement, but hurt and angry she had to go through this at all. "Okay, but I'm right out here if ya need me. Oh yeah, and lemme get ya that t-shirt."
He was back in just a moment, knocking softly on the door while he quietly said, "I got it Maggie." Only her hand slipped out the barely open door as she took the garment and said, "Thanks Daryl, we're going to be just fine in here."
He didn't feel convinced but he answered, "Yeah, okay good," as he made his way to the porch to speak with the sheriff.
Maggie helped her sister carefully ease into the warm bubbles. Beth was still softly crying as Maggie knelt next to the big clawfoot tub and tried again to console her, "Bethie, please now it won't be so bad. Most of it is just swelling and some bruising, a few little scrapes, that's all. It'll heal up, it just takes time."
"That's not all and you know it. That big cut on my cheek is going to leave a terrible scar. I won't even be able to hide it with makeup. No one's going to want to look at me."
Maggie couldn't help herself, she giggled and asked, "You mean like Daryl? Beth Greene sometimes I could just shake you. Have you taken the time to notice the way that man looks at you? Why he's got me convinced you're the most beautiful creature in the whole world, because that's what he believes. I see it in his eyes Sweetie."
"And my gosh Bethie, the way that man waits on you and hovers over you, seeing to your every need. That big redhead never ran a bubble bath for me, and when I get home he's gonna hear about it too. Shoot, and I thought I was going to have to run Daryl out of this bathroom with a gun. Sweetie please, let's not worry about some tiny scar keeping him away. I don't think a Sherman tank could keep him away from you."
As she poured the warm water over Beth's hair, rinsing out the shampoo she added, "He seems like a good man Beth, I mean if mountain men are the kind men you go for."
Rick was explaining, "When I got back to the station I did some checking. I called a few neighboring jurisdictions and as hard as it is to believe, this isn't the first case of a suspected intentional hit and run that also involves a missing purse and a subsequent burglary. They had a near fatality down in Switzer County, the woman's still in the hospital."
That news sent a shiver down Daryl's spine. "What kinda Skeezyx pulls shit like that? And for what? Radios and sewin' machines?"
Rick's lip turned up in a smile, "When you start callin' the bad guys Skeezyx Daryl, I know you're playin' way too much Uncle Wiggly." Daryl gave the sheriff his best hard-eye stare, but Rick was still smiling when he went on, "In all seriousness, the smaller stuff like this guy took is fast and easy to pawn. Hell you could walk into most any roadhouse anywhere and get a few bucks for a radio. It's not big money but it's fast money."
Rick assured Daryl they'd be checking with pawn shops, and with locals he knew who weren't shy about buying pilfered goods. "Ya never know, we might find something. In the meantime, and I know I don't need to tell you this but it's my duty as sheriff. Beth shouldn't go back home until there are new locks on her door and I'd put locks on her windows too. Women living alone have to be very cautious."
After discussing these things, the men talked hunting, fishing and automobiles while they waited for the women to finish up.
It wasn't long before Maggie opened the door and said, "I'll be ready in two minutes Rick, let me just get my handbag and say goodbye to Beth."
When she returned she looked at Daryl and asked, "Can I talk to you for just a minute?"
The sheriff knew where he wasn't wanted and casually said, "I'll go ahead and wait in the patrol car."
Maggie spoke in a soft and serious voice when she told Daryl, "Beth's having a rough time. She's hurt and embarrassed by the marks and that big cut on her cheek. She's worried people will think she's ugly. I tried to tell her it's going to be fine, but I don't think she believes me."
Daryl was working over his bottom lip and nodding his head in understanding, "Alright."
"I also offered to bring her home with me, but she doesn't want to leave you. If she changes her mind and wants me to come for her, I left my number by your phone. I'll be by her place tomorrow and I'll have it all put back together when she's ready to go home."
"Hey thanks Maggie."
"Thank you, Daryl. You make her happy, I think she makes you happy. Maybe you two ought to try and just think about that, try not to dwell on all this trouble."
He watched them turnaround and pull out of the drive, then he went inside to her. She was back in the chair and mostly covered by the blanket.
Her still damp hair was in braid and as he looked at her sweet face it wasn't the cut on her cheek he noticed, nor the bruises or the swelling. He saw only the beauty in her face and the sadness in her eyes.
He squatted down next to the chair, put his hand on hers and said, "I see them tears. Ya in pain?"
"No, the pills are working good, it doesn't hurt."
"So why the tears then, what's wrong?"
His question seemed to make the tears come more freely, pooling in her pretty blue eyes before rolling down her cheeks.
"I know I'm being silly. I should stop being a baby. I should think about how lucky I am to be alive."
He knew exactly what was wrong, still he pressed, "Yeah, so then why ya cryin'?"
"Because Daryl, look at me. I'm going to have a terrible scar. It's going to be ugly, I'll be ugly. I don't care what Maggie says. I know the way people think."
"Really? Did ya ever consider that maybe if people think that way they ain't worth worryin' about? Lemme ask ya sumthin', when ya look at Merle's hook whaddya think?"
"I think he's a hero, but that's different."
"Oh, different. Well what about..." He started to stay one thing, shook his head and took a risk, "Better yet, lemme show ya sumthin'."
He stood and begin to unbutton his shirt, "Daryl…"
He tossed the shirt on the couch and then pulled his undershirt off. She held in a gasp when she saw the marks. He had so many jagged scars, old wounds poorly healed. He waved a hand over his chest, "Pretty, huh? It gets worse." He turned then, his back on full display for her. He stood that way for a few seconds, but it was long enough for her to see. Her little scar was nothing compared to the horribly damaged skin of his back.
He quickly slipped the undershirt and his shirt back on.
He looked at her and the tears were still falling as she reached for his hand. He stood next to the chair, they held hands and she asked him, "Who? Why?"
"Who is my Dad. Why? Only him and Satan himself would know the answer ta that. Merle's back is worse, my Mama had her scars too. He's gone now, doin' life in the state pen for beatin' a fella ta death in a bar. That's the person I am, that's what I come from Beth."
"That's not true Daryl. Maybe that's where you come from, but that's not who you are. I've seen the man you are. The way you care for Mick and how you've cared for me. You're good."
He shrugged and asked, "So these scars, ya don't think they make me ugly? Ya ain't disgusted? Ya don't feel like ya gotta turn away?"
"No Daryl, of course not."
"Then ya might wanna try seein' things that way." He needed to get the hell out of there and breath, "I gotta go check the stew."
He wasn't sure he'd make it to the kitchen at all. He was shaken and staggered by what just happened. He leaned on the work table, steadying himself, afraid he might vomit. He couldn't believe he'd done what he did and said what he'd said. Fuck, but he had. He'd taken his shirt off for God sake. He'd showed Beth his shame. Beth of all people.
She hadn't turned away though, she didn't get sick. She didn't tell him to hurry up and get his shirt back on. She knew about him now, a big piece of his past. In his heart he reckoned that was probably a good thing. He'd soon know if she really cared for him. Or maybe now she'd ask him to take her to her sister's place.
He quickly went to the back porch and tried not to look at her panties and pajamas as he tossed them in the dryer. He stopped in the kitchen on his way back to her, stirring the pot of stew when he heard the door open. He hurried to the front room just as he heard Merle saying, "Hey there Missy, yer lookin' a lot better'n ya did this mornin'. Feelin' okay?"
As Merle asked Mick had been softly running her hand along Beth's arm and hand, Beth smiled at the little girl and up at Merle. "I'm doing pretty good. Just a little sore and tired. Daryl's taking real good care of me."
That's when Daryl spoke up, "Hey Brother, just in time for supper with us. I got a rabbit stew."
"Nah, but thanks. I wish I could. Karen's got a chicken or sumthin' goin'. Ya need me ta get anythin' or do anythin' 'fore I leave?"
"No, I think we got everythin' we need for tonight. Thanks for takin' Mick."
"Nah thank you. She's my favorite partner in crime, ain't ya Mick?"
"Yes, we're a team like ya said Uncle Merle. My name's Naughty n your name's Naughtier."
Daryl was shaking his head, "I don't think I probably wanna know what the two of ya got up to."
"Nah, ya don't brother, but we lived through it and that's what counts. Now ya listen ta me, ya stay home tomorrow. Ya take care a the business ya got here. I'll put the sign up and talk ta anyone who complains." He turned his attention to her, "Beth, I sure do hope ya feel better n heal up real quick." Then he rubbed a hand over Mick's head and told her, "As for you Michele Marie, I'll see ya tomorrow."
All her Daddy said was, "Mick…"
She remembered, "Thank ya for takin' me fishin' and for all them good Oreos n ice cream ya let me eat."
Daryl gave his brother the stink eye as he started to speak, "Merle…"
Meryl's smile was a mile wide and he was already halfway out the door, laughing when he said, "Sorry, I gotta go, supper's awaitin'."
Beth was deeply touched when Mick stretched up on tiptoe and kissed her cheek and told her, "That's a kiss ta make ya get all better. It works too, you'll see it does. Daddy does it for me all the time."
"Thank you Mick, I'm starting to feel better already. You have powerful kisses."
Daryl got a lump in his throat watching his girl and this woman, a woman he was already feeling so much for, share such a tender moment.
He decided it was best if they simply ate in the living room, it would be easier on Beth. She sat with one of his cutting boards on her lap like a tray, enjoying stew with bread and butter. Daryl and Mick sat cross-legged on the floor, their food on the coffee table.
"I could have eaten at the kitchen table Daryl."
"I know. We're havin' us a picnic in the front room, it's like a little party ain't it Mick?"
Mick smiled at her, "It is Beth. We're havin' a party cuz you're here."
Beth looked at him and he just shrugged and told her, "Eat. Ya need food ta heal."
When he brought out the Jello-O for dessert Mick started clapping, "See Beth? I knew it's a party, we're havin' dessert!"
Her Daddy looked so serious when he said, "Oh that's right Mick, maybe I shouldn't give ya none. You an your Uncle Merle already had dessert today."
Her face fell and he didn't need any more crying, he quickly reached across the small table and squeezed her little hand, "Hey, ya know Daddy's teasin', right?"
Her smile was back and she said, "Yeah, you're not mean Daddy. And ya made my favorite kind, strawberry."
Mick helped as best she could, and her and her Daddy quickly had the kitchen cleaned. Then it was Mick's bath time. After that they all played one game of Uncle Wiggly and one hand of Old Maid.
It was what had been in the back of her mind, maybe the front of her mind, ever since she'd agreed to stay with him. Where would everyone sleep? She found she didn't need to be concerned, he had it all figured out.
Mick gave Beth a hug and kiss and her Daddy said, "I'ma go up tuck her in bed. We gotta read one story, then I'll be back down. Holler if ya need anythin'."
"Daryl I'll be fine."
"Yeah, I know."
When he got back down it was obvious she was fighting sleep, "C'mon, I'll help ya up and we'll get ya ta bed."
"Where am I sleeping?"
"In my bed, I'm takin' the couch."
He waited for her outside the bathroom door while she used the toilet and brushed her teeth, then he helped her to his room. The furnishings were old but in good condition, and simple just like she knew they would be. He had a double size iron bed, a dresser and a bedside table. On the table was a radio, a lamp and two books. One about raising children, the other was a Jack London story, The Call of the Wild.
He pulled the covers back for her and it came to him, "Shit. I forgot, your wash is done. Ya want me ta get it? Ya wanna put your pajamas on?" He liked the look of her in his t-shirt, in fact he wouldn't mind if she never wore anything else. He just thought she probably hated it.
She was worried she might not be able to get her pajamas on by herself, and she couldn't ask for his help with that. Besides, she kind of liked wearing his t-shirt. It was big and soft and it smelled like him. "I'll be fine for tonight."
She crawled in and he pulled the cover up over her. The act was so innocent and yet it felt so intimate, she could feel the little blush on her check and she noticed how he was nervously chewing his bottom lip. "Can I get ya anythin' else?"
She was tempted to tell him, "Yes, a kiss goodnight please." Of course she didn't.
Instead she told him, "No, I think I'll be just fine, and thank you for everything Daryl. You've been wonderful."
She knew he didn't take compliments well, he simply nodded and said, "Okay then, well g'night. Holler if ya need anythin'. I'll just be in the livin' room."
He took the Jack London book from the table and a pair of pajama bottoms from his drawer and he was gone.
She lay there for a moment, saying her prayers and thinking about all that had happened that day. She didn't think she'd be able to sleep in his bed, but the pills were working and she was out just minutes after he left the room.
He changed in the bathroom, brushed his teeth, looked at himself in the mirror and whispered, "Dumbass, why didn't ya kiss her g'night?"
He grabbed the spare blanket from the linen closet in the hall, along with the pillow. They were the things Merle used on the nights he had one too many drinks and couldn't drive himself home.
Daryl lay on the couch, thinking he'd have a tough time sleeping knowing she was so close. But it had been a hard day, his body and his mind were tired. He read no more than five pages of the book and he was sound asleep.
He woke sometime around one in the morning. He got up, got a glass of water, used the bathroom, and then went to quietly check on her.
She appeared to be sleeping soundly, but she wasn't sleeping alone. Mick had crawled in with her. His daughter's tiny arm lay across Beth's tummy and Beth's hand lay atop Mick's. It was the sweetest picture he'd ever seen.
He wanted to be a part of it, and for once in his life he didn't fight himself, he did what he wanted to do.
He slipped into the bed, his arm laying softly across both Mick and Beth. Then he did something he'd cheated himself out of, he leaned over and gently kissed Beth's cheek, quietly whispering, "Sweet dreams Darlin'."
She hadn't let him see she was awake, just like she didn't let him see her smile.
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IMPORTANT NOTE: I will be spending Thanksgiving week with my family, so I won't be posting an update next Friday. However, I may get you a little something else to read, we'll see. If you celebrate, I hope you have a lovely Thanksgiving. If you don't celebrate I hope you have a great Thursday. I'll be back in two weeks with Chapter Nine of It Matters to Me, Friday the 6th . Until then, we leave the Dixon family happily resting together. I love ya large! xo gneebee Oh, Chapter Photo is on tumblr blogs gneebee and bethylmethbrick xo