AN: Here we go, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"You really gonna marry me?" Daryl asked for at least the sixth time since they'd left the house behind.
He rode beside Carol and just in front of her. The gelding that he'd given her to ride—Runt he called the horse, though Runt seemed of fair size to Carol—was an easy riding horse. Several feet behind them, with her bag tied to his mount, Merle came riding a horse that, in comparison, made Runt live up to his name.
Carol was almost dizzy with the prospect of marrying the man next to her. She was almost dizzy with the change that had happened in her life in the matter of a few moments. This morning she'd woken as a working girl for Andrea—even though she'd been out of work since Daryl's last visit. Now she was on her way to be married to Daryl who rode at her side. And if the wedding went through? She would go to sleep tonight as his wife.
Carol looked at him as they slowly rode along. She watched his face when he was focused on the road in front of him. He rode with a serious expression on his face, but the intensity of it faded whenever she got his attention. He didn't look cross when he was talking to her and she was starting to think that it was just his thoughts that made him look so concerned.
He was handsome. He was strong and healthy. His body was hard to the touch, but his face was still softer than she might have expected. In matters of sex, he was inexperienced and still lacked some confidence in himself, but he was eager to learn and he was eager to please her—something to which she was entirely unaccustomed.
She could grow to love him, she was sure. Especially if he was sincere about really loving her.
She hoped he was sincere. And she hoped, if he was, that the love wouldn't fade to leave her cold and alone.
Love declared, Carol knew, could have a way of fading away to nothing.
"I'm really going to," Carol responded, reassuring Daryl once more that she was going where he was leading her. "If you're really going to marry me," she said, venturing to challenge him for the first time on the ride.
Daryl laughed to himself at her statement.
"'Course I'ma marry you," Daryl said. "What the hell else would I do? Leave you out here on the road?"
"You might," Carol said. "It isn't like there aren't women that get left behind, and that even by lawful husbands."
Daryl studied her. He shook his head.
"No," he said. "I ain't leavin' you behind. You gonna be my wife. My own wife. An' that means I don't leave you behind nowhere. Unless, of course, it's 'cause I'm ridin' out to town or somewhere...somewhere like that. Somewhere you don't wanna go."
Carol laughed to herself at his attempt to explain what he meant. She understood entirely what he was trying to say to her. His intention wasn't to ever leave her, not in the long-term sense, but that didn't mean that there wouldn't be times when they were apart. Those times, Carol knew, were simply natural moments in life. They would be times when he would be busy being her husband—and doing what he would likely call "husband things"—and she'd be busy being his wife and doing what he'd call "wife things". But those times were different than the abandonment to which Carol referred.
"What if I want to go with you everywhere?" Carol asked. "What if...I want to ride out to town with you? To go everywhere you go?"
Daryl shrugged his shoulders even as he rode along.
"Then you'd go, I reckon," Daryl said. "But—I can't say that ever'thing I do is gonna be real nice for you. An' you might get busy. Always something to do on the farm. More, even, once I get more out there. Keep on building after the harvest. You gonna see. There's a lot that's still gotta be done. But I think—I hope you gonna like what's set there now."
Carol's stomach twisted when she thought of the farm—their farm—and all that meant. She would see it tonight, at least as much as the night allowed her to see. She would see her home. At the very least, she would see the place that Daryl expected her to make a home.
"I suppose it'll do just fine, Daryl," Carol said. "Whatever's there."
Daryl hummed at her.
"You sure?" Daryl asked. "That you gonna marry me?"
Carol laughed to herself. The laughter spread a warmth through her body that she couldn't explain—it had nothing to do with the heat of the sun or the dry air around her.
"I'm sure," she responded again. "I'm gonna marry you."
And Carol realized, each time she answered the question that Daryl seemed to need her to answer repeatedly to reassure him, that she was more and more confident in her own reply.
She was going to marry him. And, even if she wasn't sure how much she did at the moment, she was going to love him.
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To have and to hold. To love and to cherish.
To have and to hold. For as long as they both shall live.
Hershel said it all and he said it just right in Daryl's opinion. To have and to hold. To love and to cherish. For all the days that they both might live. That was everything he wanted. It was everything he could ask from his wife—his own wife.
And Carol, standing right there as honest as she could, said it was what she wanted too. She held his hands in hers—her hands were so soft as they rested in his—and she looked in his eyes while she said it. She smiled at him softly with a smile that seemed to carry right on from her lips to her eyes. And she promised, right there in front of Hershel and Miss Jo and their family—right there in front of Merle who thought that whores weren't fit for making wives out of—that she would be his. To have and to hold. To love and to cherish. For just as long as they both lived.
Carol looked different there, in the soft and pretty dress that she was wearing, than she had even in the house of ill-repute. She looked like a softer version herself. She looked lighter. Standing next to Daryl, his own wedded wife, she looked happy. She looked happier than he could ever expect anyone to look with nothing more than the likes of him to call a husband. She smiled all the way from her lips to her eyes and she laughed, too, though Daryl had been too busy looking at her to hear the joke that stirred up the laughter.
She kissed him when she married him. She kissed him softly and she held it long enough that it took Daryl's breath away. The way she kissed him made him never want to let her go and, because they were married, he never had to. Not really. Not until the days when they weren't both still alive.
Though Daryl still didn't know what an ill-repute was, Carol looked better away from it and Daryl was glad that he'd taken her far away from it. He was glad that it wasn't something she was going to ever have to live with in the house again.
There wouldn't be room for ill-repute in their home.
When Miss Jo served the meal, she took Carol by the hand as natural as if they'd been friends forever. She tugged her to the kitchen and Carol came back with her carrying a platter of biscuits that she put down in the center of the table right alongside the ham that Miss Jo put down for Hershel to carve and serve. It wasn't Sunday, but just like it was, Daryl and Merle—and now Carol—were invited to sit at the table and eat with the family.
When they bowed their heads and held hands the way that Hershel insisted that they should, he laid a blessing on the food that stretched out for what felt like hours. Daryl barely listened to most of it—the same ideas as always—because he focused on how right Carol's hand felt in his. He focused on how nice it was to have her hand to hold. He only listened to the blessing that Hershel was laying on the food when he heard his name. His pulse picked up a notch when Hershel asked that the Lord—who always listened to Hershel because Hershel knew how to speak to Him just right—bless the union between Daryl and Carol. And that He might also bless their home and bless their farm.
When Hershel said the words, Carol squeezed Daryl's hand in hers and his heart responded by thundering even harder in his chest. When he opened his eyes, the blessing over, he looked at her and he was met with the same sweet smile she'd seemed to be steady wearing since he'd taken her hand and waited for Hershel to start asking them to make their promises for marriage.
Daryl ate well. Carol did too. Everyone ate their fill and there was conversation that circled around the table about the stock and the fences on the back quarter of the farm. Seeing that his plate was growing empty, Miss Jo piled extra biscuits on Daryl's plate and forked him off more of the ham that Hershel had carved and she promised Carol that, if she would come and spend a morning with her, she would show her how to make the biscuits in one of the cast iron pots that she'd sent to their little home.
After dinner there was a pound cake with a thin and crunchy layer of a tart lemon icing that they all washed down with black coffee. Coffee and cake done, Hershel invited Merle and Daryl out to the porch with him to smoke and taste a bit of his special whiskey and Miss Jo invited Carol into her sitting room to "chat" while they waited for the smoking and the drinking to be done.
No meal that Daryl had ever eaten had tasted as good as the one that he was digesting when Hershel passed him a glass of the whiskey that he kept around for special occasions. It was sipping whiskey, not like the whiskey that they bought in town. Daryl rocked back in his chair, his lit cigarette in hand, and couldn't hold back the sigh of satisfaction that escaped him.
"She's a pretty little thing," Hershel offered with a quiet laugh as soon as all the glasses were poured and passed around. Daryl knew that he was speaking about Carol.
"Prettiest woman there is," Daryl said.
"I suppose we're all partial to our wives," Hershel said. "But there's no denying she's a lovely young woman, Daryl."
"Looks different in that flowered frock than she ever looked in Eden," Merle mused.
Daryl didn't miss that Hershel gave Merle a bit of a warning look. Merle didn't miss it either.
"You'll take Nessie and Runt to your farm tonight," Hershel said. "You'll take her out there on horseback. Merle will ride out with you to bring them back. You can walk in tomorrow and we'll see about getting you a barn built. I think there's enough lumber left. You'll need mounts, Daryl."
"I can walk in," Daryl said. "It ain't no long distance."
Hershel hummed at him.
"I saw that today," Hershel said. "It's a nice walk on a nice day. When you've got time to spare and you don't mind stretching your legs. But Carol might not always want to stretch her legs and make the walk. And you never know when there might be an emergency that'll make you wish you had a faster way to get from one place to another."
Daryl licked his lips.
"I can buy horses," he said. "It ain't no problem."
Hershel nodded at him.
"You can," Hershel said. "And I know a man who always has some fine horses for sale. Usually sells several pretty well broke. I bought Runt off him. My daughter's horse, Skeeter. You'll need a barn for shelter. Fences for grazing. Then we'll ride out, you and me, and we'll pick you some for your own. Some nice horses that are good for riding and good for work. You'll appreciate the help on the farm. You'll need two at least. They'll make a nice team, too, once you've got a wagon."
"This ain't the kinda night to talk business," Merle said suddenly. He drew off his cigarette and let out a thick cloud of smoke before he grinned in Daryl's direction. "Ain't ever' night my lil' brotha up an' gets hitched."
Hershel laughed at Merle and raised his glass.
"You're right, son," Hershel agreed. "Tonight isn't a night for talking about business. It's a night for talking about happy marriages. I hope your marriage is as happy as mine, Daryl." He tasted his drink. "I hope it's as blessed. A good woman, Daryl? It's the greatest blessing a man can have. She has a way of—bringing about all the other blessings that make a life worth living."
Merle scoffed and laughed to himself, sounding almost like he was choking on the sipping whiskey that Hershel had poured for him.
"And heartache and trouble too her ass can bring," Merle said. "You know it's true that they's wives make life worth endin' as much as they make it worth livin'."
Hershel hummed, but there was a slight hint of a smile that spread across his face. He rocked his chair quickly.
"They make all kinds of women, Merle," Hershel said. "Just as they make all kinds of men. Sometimes you get out of a wife what you put into her. Same as anything else. Believe me. I know. You put bad in, you get bad out." He hummed. "Of course there are just some women who are a little more set on being difficult than others."
"Carol ain't difficult," Daryl said quickly. "She's easy. Soft an' easy. You seen it."
"That cold metal band on her finger ain't even warmed up yet, brother," Merle said.
Hershel clucked his tongue.
"Carol seems the kind of woman that's a blessing to her husband," Hershel said, his tone almost reprimanding like he was warning Merle for his bad thoughts against wives in general. "And she certainly seems like a blessing to you. I have all ideas, Daryl, that if you treat her like that? If you treat her like the blessing that she is to you? You'll find she makes a fine wife. Just fine." He hummed and rocked and Daryl watched him, tasting the whiskey in his glass. "You might talk her out of that corset she's wearing, though. It might've suited her old life, but it won't suit being a farmer's wife."
"That ain't nothin'," Daryl offered. "Just a dress."
Hershel laughed at him and Daryl felt his cheeks grow warm as soon as he realized that he'd said something that made him look foolish. Merle laughed too, and that didn't make him feel any less embarrassed.
"The corset, Daryl," Hershel said. "What she's wearing under that dress."
Daryl felt a rush of blood go to his face that wasn't related to the moment of embarrassment that he'd felt.
"What you know about what Carol's wearin' under her dress?" Daryl snapped back at the old man.
Hershel only seemed to find Daryl's question every bit as amusing as he'd found his misspeaking about the dress.
"You can tell she's wearin' the corset by her damn shape, lil' brother," Merle offered. "Wraps 'round her tits an' waist. Binds her up. Makes her look smaller'n she is when she comes outta it. Makes her tits look higher'n they sit on they own."
"And it's a bad idea for a farmer's wife," Hershel said. "One of the first things I'd suggest to go. It binds too tight and it limits movement. Makes it harder to breathe, and you don't need that with the heat. Besides—with any luck she'll bare you children and the binding will only hold back the growth that should take place for that to happen. If I were you? I would try to talk her out that corset."
Daryl's stomach did an odd sort of twist at the thought of it. He didn't want Carol wearing anything that was binding. He'd once bound his ribs because a bull had broken a few of them and it had been a miserable feeling. He didn't want her walking around feeling like that on a regular basis.
But that wasn't the whole reason that his stomach twisted. He knew that the natural progression of things was that a man took a wife and his wife bore him children, but that didn't mean that he'd exactly thought of such a thing with Carol. He'd been so focused on making her his wife that he'd completely forgotten to think about the fact that such things came with it.
Suddenly, Daryl felt much more driven to hurry and get the farm running—to buy a team, to start raising the cattle that he planned on raising, and to start building every aspect of their life—because he realized just how quickly things could sneak up on him if he wasn't ready for them. And to take care of Carol like he wanted? He needed to be ready for everything.
"You OK, Daryl?" Hershel asked.
"What?" Daryl asked, snapping out of his thoughts. He realized he was breathing heavier than before and he guessed that, perhaps, Merle and Hershel both could see it.
"Look like you 'bout ready to fall out there, brother," Merle said, his voice more serious than his expression. "You need you some water or somethin'?"
Daryl glanced at the glass of whiskey in his hand. He had barely touched it and he knew that it hadn't affected him at all, but he blamed his moment of lightheadedness on the beverage. He cleared his throat and sat up, holding the offending glass out in the direction of Hershel.
"Just the drink goin' to my head," Daryl said. "Late. Don't wanna ride back too late neither. Want Carol to—she ain't seen the house."
He frowned at his own inability to form what he felt was a coherent argument. Still, Hershel seemed to accept his poorly strung together excuses. Hershel took the glass from him, put it on the small table near him, and stood up.
"I don't expect you'll be working tomorrow," Hershel said. "It's your day off. After that? I expect you'll be in to get whatever supplies you need and keep me updated on progress out there. Anything you need? Don't hesitate to ask. We both want a good yield. We both get out of it what you put in."
Daryl nodded his head at Hershel.
"Yessir," he said. "Thank you for the day tomorrow. I might just get started on the barn. Settin' the posts."
Hershel cleared his throat.
"As you want," Hershel said. "But it's your day off and I wouldn't blame you for taking it. You have a wife now, Daryl. She might be interested in spending some time with you. Come on—let's go inside and tell her that it's time to saddle up."
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Riding back to the farm, with Merle not far behind them on Duke who was still hauling around Carol's belongings, Daryl led Carol's horse. Runt practically knew the way without help, but Daryl tugged him along at any rate to make sure that he didn't misstep or try to head off the trail in any way. Carol rode along in silence, holding over her lap the small bundle that Miss Jo had sent with her. Wedding presents, she called the items in the bundle. Daryl had no idea what she might consider a wedding present—and he didn't really care as long as Carol was pleased with it.
As they neared the small farm that they would call home, Merle humming somewhat loudly behind them, Carol leaned a little in Daryl's direction.
"Is he stayin' with us?" Carol asked.
Daryl hummed at her, caught up in his thoughts enough that he missed the question.
"Is he stayin' with us?" Carol repeated. "Your brother. Is he stayin' with us?"
Daryl glanced over his shoulder. It was already dark enough that he wouldn't have known that it was Merle that was riding behind them if he didn't simply know who it was. He laughed to himself.
"No," Daryl said. "No. He ain't livin' with us. He lives in Hershel's attic. Comes with the job. Board an' food if you want it. He don't live with us."
Carol straightened up and rode a moment more in silence before she somewhat leaned again and spoke once more.
"Then what's he coming for?" Carol asked. "Is there something I oughta—is there something I oughta know?"
"What you think you oughta know?" Daryl asked.
"It's just us that—we'll...we're the only ones who are gonna live in our house?" Carol asked.
Daryl hummed in the affirmative.
"Until I reckon we ain't," Daryl said. "Maybe—maybe someday it ain't just us. But...yeah. Just you an' me. You my wife now. I'm your husband. So we gonna live there together. But it ain't no house like where you was livin'. Ain't no house, even, like where I was livin'. So we gonna just be livin' there together. You an' me."
"Then what's he coming with us for?" Carol asked.
From behind them, Merle laughed sincerely.
"He can hear," Merle said. "An' his ears work pretty damn good, lil' lady. Don't'cha worry 'bout nothin'. You my brother's wife an' that's all you is to me. Same as my own sister. I'm just comin' 'cause them mounts you ridin' is borrowed horses an' Hershel wants 'em home to spend the night in the barn. Don't wanna risk losin' 'em to nothin' prowling around out here lookin' for some supper."
"He's just takin' the horses home," Daryl said, echoing Merle's words. "Got your bag, too, on Duke back there. Nothin' more."
"Oh," Carol said softly.
Daryl's stomach churned a little more with nerves as he realized how close they were to getting to their home for the first time. It churned a little as he wondered what Carol would say—and what she might think that she didn't say—about the house he built and the life he'd brought her to.
Daryl cleared his throat.
"You—still happy you married me?" Daryl asked. "Or—you feelin' sorry for it now?"
"I'm not feeling sorry for it, Daryl," Carol said. "Don't worry. I'm not feeling sorry for it at all. I'm just—ready to be there."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Then I got good news for you," Daryl said. "'Cause—we pretty much here."