AN: Here we are, another piece to this one.
I hope you enjoy! If you do, please don't forget to let me know what you think!
111
The Greene farm was outside of the city by a decent distance. The drive to get there, though, was peaceful and picturesque. The children, having been there a good many times, didn't fuss on the ride, perhaps because they already knew that they would have a good time upon their arrival.
Daryl didn't know how this social would be, but he imagined it couldn't possibly be any worse than what they'd pretended was a church social offered to Carol. She'd told him about it, and he was sorry that she'd gone, at all, to witness the way that people could be so cruel and care so little for each other.
This one had been organized by Alice and Melodye, with a great deal of help, obviously, from Josephine Greene, who had at least pretended that she was annoyed not to have been invited to do the whole thing from the start.
Like most people, she claimed she'd never really even heard a word about the social—Judy Rigors had done her best to keep it under her hat for as long as she could, and Hershel and Josephine were in the parking lot, evidently, before it had been announced at church.
Unlike the church socials, Daryl had been invited to this one. The children, too, had been invited. Anybody who came, from what Daryl understood, was allowed to bring their whole family. The celebration of new lives in the community, and the celebration of the growth of families, after all, wasn't something that only involved one gender or only people who had reached adulthood. At least, that's what Josephine Greene had said, and Hershel Greene typically made it a point to never contradict his wife, unless absolutely necessary, of course.
At the farm, Daryl's spirits already soared slightly, even as they just made their way to the end of the driveway and parked in the grass where the Greenes normally preferred for people to park.
Already, there were people there.
There were children running around. There were a couple of men sitting on the large front porch of the farmhouse smoking and talking. There were picnic tables set up with folding chairs and cloths weighed down with covered dishes and other items—the tails of them flapping in the breeze every now and again.
People had come to celebrate.
Whether or not they'd come because Hershel and Josephine Greene were two of the most influential and respected people in the community, or whether or not they'd come because Josephine was doing most of the cooking, or because Hershel had promised a fun-filled farm day for their little ones, Daryl didn't know. All he knew, and all that mattered, was that they had come.
Daryl walked around the car and opened Carol's door. He reached a hand out to her, to help her out of her seat.
"Watch your step," he said. "Ground's a lil' bit uneven here."
She smiled at him, and he wondered if the smile was for him, or if it was much like what he was feeling—simple excitement over the fact that people had come for them or, at the very least, despite the fact that the gathering was about them. He leaned and pecked her lips quickly, not wanting to be too affectionate, just in case the people watching from the porch or the little picnic area might find it to be in bad taste.
He opened the door and let June out, immediately barking an order at her to have fun, but to mind any adult who might be telling her to behave, as she took off toward the few other children that were already running around, squealing and laughing as they played some game with rules that only they knew.
Daryl took Jack on his hip and, when Carol reached for him, he shook his head.
"I reckon I got Jack Jack," he said. "You got other things to do. Don't you forget, this is your social, and you're supposed to be mingling and getting all those good new-Mama secrets or whatever the hell it is y'all share at these things."
Carol laughed.
"And what are you supposed to be doing?" Carol asked.
Daryl's heart nearly couldn't handle it. The sincere happiness in her voice, the broad smile, and the playful way that she spoke to him—her eyes practically dancing as she waited for him to respond. His chest swelled with all the feelings he had—the kind of feelings that his brother would have given him hell about feeling for a month of Sundays.
He loved her more than anything—far more than his own life—and he was overflowing with happiness just to think that she might be truly happy.
Daryl smiled at her, not that it took any effort at all to do so.
"I'm supposed to be keepin' a loose eye on the kids, since there's plenty of other adults here, getting all the advice I can get for things, and working on that fried chicken that I know Miss Josephine made for this gathering."
Carol playfully swatted him, but she laughed.
Daryl had just put his hand on her elbow and started to suggest that they head over to greet everyone, when his sister-in-law met them, making her way across the lawn with quick, light steps.
"Stop hiding over here, necking under the pecan trees, and come see all the food that Jo's ladies have brought."
"Jo?" Carol asked with a laugh, reaching her arms out to accept Andrea's offered hug. Daryl watched as the two happily squeezed each other like sisters who hadn't seen each other in months, instead of people who regularly saw one another.
"She said she's family now," Andrea said, "and she'd like to do away with unnecessary formality. I figure the least we can do is oblige."
Andrea moved to Daryl, and he hugged her before returning back to the position he'd assumed earlier, so that he could walk holding Carol's arm, just in case the uneven ground might threaten to twist an ankle or otherwise send her toppling to the ground.
Daryl didn't miss that Andrea watched him as he took Carol's arm. If he hadn't held Jack on his hip, not wanting the little boy to escape them, he would have offered to hold hers, too. He imagined that it had been a long time since anyone had worried whether or not Andrea might benefit from a little extra support of any kind.
One thought, of course, led to another.
"All your boys here?" Daryl asked.
Andrea hummed and nodded.
"They're all around," she said.
"Merle?" Daryl asked.
He could tell by the expression that flitted across Andrea's face that she would have preferred that he not bring up her husband.
"You know your brother," Andrea said. "He said this kind of thing is for women, and he wouldn't be caught dead at some baby party fussing over blankets and diapers."
"But he'll expect you to bring his sorry ass a plate," Daryl said.
Andrea's eyes and the smirk on her lips—finding humor, perhaps, so she could avoid other feelings—told him all that he needed to know.
When they reached the main part of the yard where Daryl could see Josephine and several other women—most of which he didn't know, not well at least, but it didn't matter to him as long as they were there to make Carol happy—he'd passed Carol's arm off to Andrea to send the two of them on their merry way to do whatever it was that they were set on doing, and he walked up the steps of the farmhouse, passing Jack off to one of the Greene girls that had offered to help with the smallest social attendants of the day.
Then, he accepted the drink that Hershel offered him, and the cigar—even though he didn't truly love cigars—that he offered him to celebrate his impending new arrival.
Daryl shook hands, all around, introducing himself to men he vaguely knew, and he settled into one of the porch's chairs, happy to hear whatever conversation they all wanted to share and to listen to some of their anecdotes on what he could expect for the rest of Carol's pregnancy and all the time to follow.
111
Daryl normally didn't care for Carol to cry. He didn't like anything that brought her to tears. He hated that he couldn't control the world enough that it would keep anything and everything from hurting her to the point that she couldn't keep the droplets from escaping her eyes.
He did, however, make exceptions when he recognized that the tears she was shedding were what she would deem "happy tears."
"Oh—look at how precious, Daryl," Carol cooed.
Daryl had carried in the little pile of things that Carol had been gifted at the Greene farm, and he'd put them in the little room that would be the baby's room—a room that, until now, had been mostly empty. The last time he'd remodeled the house, they'd put the little room there with the idea that there would be more children after Jack; they'd just imagined that their arrival might be under different circumstances. It was small, but they'd reasoned that it would be perfect for a baby, not yet sleeping all the way through the night, until they were older and could move into one of the other rooms without disturbing a sibling all too completely.
Daryl thought it was time to be sincere about a crib to go in the space. Jack wasn't ready, just yet, to give his up entirely. He was certain that Merle and Andrea must have one in the attic and, in fact they'd mentioned it, but he'd kept putting off going to get it and see what condition it might be in.
Perhaps it was time to stop putting things off. It was time to start getting ready for the baby that would be there before they knew it.
In the room, there was a trunk up against the wall, so Daryl had delicately piled Carol's things on the trunk for her to look at later, and he'd gone out to enjoy a supper of leftovers from the social with his family. Then, he'd helped Carol get the kids ready for bed, and he'd been the one to read the stories for the night—finally making sure their little ones were tucked in for bed.
Carol had bathed first, and Daryl had taken his time enjoying his bath after her.
He'd found her, teary-eyed, looking over the precious little gifts, as she kept referring to them, that the women—mostly friends of Josephine and Hershel, and a few clients of Carol—had brought her to help her welcome their newest little one.
"They're damn near perfect," Daryl offered.
He assumed it was true. The women had made the items they'd offered Carol. There were a few blankets, some diapers, and a variety of clothing. They'd had things like that for June and for Jack, but most of it had been made by Carol, herself. Josephine had been the only one to gift Carol something she'd made for each child—a blanket.
There was one of Josephine's blankets in the pile that Carol kept looking through like she thought the items might disappear if she looked away.
"I don't hardly want to use them," Carol said.
Daryl knew that she would use them, of course, but he understood the sentiment.
"Because they're so nice?" He asked.
Carol stopped fussing with the items and turned to him. He didn't have to say anything. He simply stretched his arms out in her direction, and she came to him, sinking into the hug that he offered her.
"Because we've waited so long to have them," Carol said. "It's strange, but…it's been so long in coming."
"Well, it's here now," Daryl said. "Was a nice social, I think. Not that I been to a social like that before."
"It was the nicest social anyone ever had," Carol said.
Daryl smiled at the thought.
"You deserve the nicest one anyone ever had," Daryl said. "And the nicest blankets and things for our baby."
Carol pulled away and smiled at him. He ran his thumbs under her eyes and wiped away residual tears before slipping his hands down to gently knead her back muscles as he held her body against him, her belly pressing into him. She kept smiling at him, her eyes holding his.
"You deserve to finally be a real Daddy," Carol said.
"I already am," Daryl said. "And I thought we agreed we wouldn't say that kinda shit—soundin' like Merle, and I don't like it."
"You're right," Carol said. "And—I'll never say it again. I just—I really, truly want you to be happy, Daryl."
Daryl laughed quietly, and she questioned him with a quirk of her eyebrow.
"Just thinking how much we have in common," Daryl said. "Because what I want most in the world is that you're happy."
"I'm the happiest I've ever been," Carol assured him. "And—Daryl? It only gets better from here."
Daryl leaned and kissed her. Her kiss was soft, and sweet, and it was the best dessert he'd had all day—and he'd had quite a few things worth mentioning.
"Then, I'm as happy as I've ever been, too, and I'm looking forward to just how much better it gets from here."
When Daryl heard the knock at the door, he wanted to object to someone disturbing them, especially at this hour and especially when he was feeling so warm and happy in the arms of his wife. Still, something inside of him reminded him that people seldom came calling, especially unannounced, at hours like this, and it was very likely that someone needed some help. Maybe there was a flat tire or something.
"Hold every thought you were having," Daryl offered. He let go of Carol and started toward the door. He was aware that, if she followed him at all, she followed him at some distance, knowing full-well that he would tell her to stay back until he knew what was going on and was sure that everything was safe.
Daryl opened the door and started slightly.
He hadn't expected to see Merle standing there, looking a little heavy. The smell of whiskey hit Daryl in the face.
"She threw me out," Merle said. "And—I weren't sure what to do. I was so damned mad—didn't wanna do what I wouldn't mean to do."
Daryl's stomach turned slightly at the smell of his brother and at the understanding of what Merle meant, even though he didn't say it. He didn't want to let his anger truly get the best of him. He didn't want to do what their daddy might have done—what he had done, several times, when their mama had done her best to throw him out for one reason or another.
Merle hadn't done what their daddy had done. Instead, he had clearly walked away, stopped to buy—and, apparently drink—a bottle of whiskey, and he'd ended up on Daryl's front porch.
"Didn't know what else to do," Merle said. "Didn't know where the hell else to go."
Daryl sucked in a breath. At least, if he might know nothing else about whatever the hell was going on, Daryl knew that Andrea and the boys were safe. He knew that Merle had walked away. That was worth something, all things considered.
"You done right," Daryl said. "Come on. We'll—get'cha set up for the night."
"Who is it?" Carol asked when Daryl found her in the bedroom, waiting for him to either need her for something or to tell her that he'd handled everything.
"Merle," Daryl said. "I'm sorry—but I think our night just took a turn."