AN: Here we go, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Winter was long and hard, but somehow they survived it. And, somehow, their livestock survived as well. They lost nothing more than one cow and a few chickens—a relatively small loss given what the ice and snow could have taken from them.
The spring eventually came. Slowly the world showed signs of waking up and coming back to life. With the final frost, the planting began again. And Daryl's work—which never seemed to slow even with the deep freeze of winter—seemed to double once more.
They were still getting started. Their farm, by any stretch of imagination, was still in its infancy. The money they had to survive on was money from their first harvest and some small amount leftover from what Daryl had earned and saved before. Their first harvest, as Carol heard it from Daryl, was a spring harvest. Therefore, the money they got from it really wasn't as impressive as what they could hope for in the future. Perhaps that was the greatest comfort, because Daryl was worried about the money.
His worry, really, was the greatest change that Carol saw in her own life. Daryl worried about the money. He worried that it wouldn't stretch until the harvest. He worried that it wouldn't buy the things that they needed to live until the harvest. And he was a proud man—though probably no prouder than any other man who tried to make an honest living—and he already felt so deep in debt that he couldn't even imagine asking the Greene's for further support. He felt that he and Carol already owed them—which they probably did—and he didn't want to lower himself to ask them for more when they'd already given so much.
So Daryl couldn't hire help.
He could ask Merle for help, but Merle had to work to earn his own living. He couldn't give away much of his time for free. Without help and without extra hands, all the work fell on Daryl. All the strain and stress of the farm fell on his shoulders. The planting, the cattle, the fences, the dreams of a house he promised to one day build for them—it all fell on Daryl's shoulders.
Until the day that Carol decided that it wasn't her husband's place to carry the weight of their farm.
Carol fed Daryl breakfast, as she always did, and she cleaned up afterwards while he went out to start on the work that would keep him occupied until sun down. As soon as breakfast was cleaned up, Carol rushed through her other chores as quickly as she could possibly do them and still be sure that she was doing them well. As soon as she found herself free for a moment, she rushed down to the field where Daryl was working and grabbed a bucket of the seed that he was working with. Immediately, she copied his action and started spreading the seed.
She'd worked about ten minutes before he even noticed her.
"The hell you doin'?" Daryl called at her when he did notice her working.
"Planting," Carol said. She lowered her bucket to the ground. "Am I not doing it right, Daryl?"
"You doin' fine," Daryl said. "But it ain't your work."
"Just as much mine as it is yours," Carol insisted, picking her bucket back up again.
"Workin' the fields is a man's work," Daryl said.
"Same as working with the cattle?" Carol asked.
Daryl nodded his head at her.
"Just the same," he said.
"And what's a woman's work?" Carol asked.
Daryl chewed at his lip and finally shrugged his shoulders.
"Reckon you'd know that better'n I would," Daryl said. "You a woman. So it's you who knows what'cha gotta do ever'day."
"And what if I was to tell you, Daryl, that I already done what I have to do until it's time for you to eat again?" Carol asked.
"Then I'd say you ain't done it all," Daryl said. "And you oughta go check an' see if there ain't somethin' else you should be doin'."
"I'm doing what I oughta be doing," Carol insisted. As a show that she considered the conversation done, Carol dipped her hand in the seeds again and tossed out the handful in the same manner as she'd done before—just as she'd seen Daryl doing it.
Daryl stepped forward and put his hand on her bucket like he intended to pull it away from her and Carol jerked it back.
"You ain't s'posed to have to do this!" Daryl barked at her. His face ran red. It was the angriest that Carol had ever seen him.
"Why not?" Carol asked, her own frustration boiling up. "Give me one good reason, Daryl, that I shouldn't be out here doing what needs to be done and I'll go right back up there and sit and wait until I gotta cook you somethin' to eat."
Daryl frowned at her.
"It ain't your work," Daryl said. "I'm supposed to do this. Work the land. Work the farm. Build you a life, Carol. That's what I'm supposed to do. Me! It's man's work! It's what a husband's supposed to do."
Carol's chest caught at a quick change in Daryl's tone of voice.
"That what it says, Daryl? Somewhere in some book you read? Somewhere in some book that Hershel read to you?" Carol asked. "It says that I can't sow seeds to help you build that life? A life that both of us'll live together?"
"I'm sure it does," Daryl said. "You know I ain't read the whole thing, but I'm sure it says it. Says I'm the one what's takin' care of you."
"And you know what else it says, Daryl?" Carol asked. Daryl stared at her. He stared hard at her. He made no gesture to nod or shake his head. He simply stared. Carol took that as invitation enough to speak to him. "It says I'm meant to be your helpmate," Carol said. "I know that. Miss Jo told me that's what it says. I'm your helpmate, Daryl. That means I'm meant to be helping you. In everything you do. In every part of your day. You're building us this here life and you're building us this farm, but I'm supposed to be helping you. And that's what I'm doing. There's nobody else here, Daryl. And this seed's gotta go in the ground or there's no harvest coming. So let me help you, Daryl."
"I told you that if you come out here, and if you married me," Daryl offered, "that I was gonna take care of you."
"And you do take care of me," Carol said.
"Puttin' your ass out in a field and tellin' you to sow seeds all damn day long ain't takin' care of you," Daryl said.
"Puttin' a roof over my head is," Carol said. "Puttin' food on the table is. Makin' me—makin' me the kinda wife that gets to wake up ever'day in a warm house? Keeping me warm through the coldest winter I've ever seen? That's takin' care of me, Daryl. Needing help to do the work of—how many people work on the Greene farm?"
Daryl shrugged his shoulders.
"Don't matter," Daryl said.
"You're just one man, Daryl," Carol said. "Just one. And you're the best damn man I ever knew in my whole life. But you're still just one man. And I can throw this seed out as good as you can. Together? We work twice as fast. Get it done twice as fast. You and me. When the crop's in the ground, growing just like it should? I'll go back up to the house, Daryl. I'll stay there. I'll do what'cha want me to do and I'll twiddle my thumbs when my work is done 'cause that's what you think I oughta be doing. But let me be the good wife I'm supposed to be. Let me be the good wife that—that the big book that Hershel reads to you says I oughta be and let me be a helpmate."
Daryl swallowed and looked at the ground long enough that Carol wondered if he was trying to count each and every seed that she'd tossed out. The he nodded his head gently.
"I didn't want you havin' to do none of this," Daryl said. "It ain't how I thought things would go. It ain't the kinda life I wanted for you."
Carol frowned at him and shook her head.
"Things don't always go like we think they will, Daryl," Carol said. "I didn't end up in Andrea's house because I was always thinking that was where I would be. It just—happened that way. And I didn't think I would end up here, either. But—here I stand. And you know what? Now? There's none of that I would change for the world. Because if I didn't end up at Andrea's house? I wouldn't have been there that day when you and Merle came through to see what it as all about. And if I wasn't there? I wouldn't be here right now. Daryl? There's no place I'd rather be than right here, right now. And this life? Even if it wasn't what you wanted me to have? It's the best kind of life that I could ever hope to have."
Daryl looked at her. He visibly swallowed.
"You said that about the life you was livin' at Eden," Daryl said. "Best kinda life you could hope to have."
Carol nodded her head.
"So I did," Carol said. "And it was. But things change. And they're gonna change again. This life? It won't always look like this for me and you. But it don't change until the crop goes in the ground."
"Puttin' my wife to work in the field don't make me no kinda husband," Daryl said.
Carol laughed to herself, her chest catching at the thought of how truly troubled Daryl was over his self-set expectations.
"Makes you the best kinda husband there is," Carol said. "Best for me. Makes you the kinda husband that lets me—do what I can to know...we built this life together." She smiled at him, hoping to offer him some reassurance, when he looked at her and chewed at his lip again. "Grab your bucket, Daryl. Let's get some of this planted. We both got a lotta work to be doing."
Daryl sighed.
"Fine," he muttered. "But just gettin' the wheat going. Then? You ain't doin' no more of this. I'm takin' care of you."
Carol laughed to herself.
"You always do, Daryl," she responded, dipping her hands once more into the seed that would help to guarantee that there was a future for both of them.
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Daryl walked the back part of the fences and assured himself that they were secure and all the damage had been repaired. They were standing again and nothing short of manmade damage would knock them down. They were sturdy fences. He'd built them well. He'd built them every bit as well as he'd built the fences on the Greene farm when he'd worked there. They weren't falling down. Not on their own.
But they hadn't fallen on their own in the first place.
Four of his cows were missing. Four out of a dozen were gone and someone had taken them in the night. They'd taken down part of his fences—farthest from the house and farthest from the point where he could've heard what they were doing—and they'd taken his cows.
Hershel had given him ten. He'd produced two calves. That's how his herd would grow. One at a time, he would build it. It would grow larger until he was ready to cull it. Then he'd cut out the ones he didn't need to keep for breeding to sell. And so it would continue.
Except now he was short four of his cows because some assholes had come in the night and knocked his fences down. Some assholes had taken four of his cows and he was two in the hole from where he'd started instead of two ahead. He was going backward. He was going in the opposite direction from where he wanted to go. At the rate he was going, there'd be no cows to sell this year. He wouldn't be able to part with any of them. He might not have any left to even keep trying to grow up his herd.
Daryl heard Carol calling him from the house. She was calling him in for supper and he ignored her calls for a few moments. He watched his remaining cows grazing and he contemplated the fences that he knew were secure again. From the house, Carol kept calling him. She moved closer to him, her voice getting louder, to make sure that he heard her.
So, finally, Daryl turned and headed in her direction. He threw up a hand to let her know that he was coming and that he heard her. He watched her, at a distance, as she retreated back toward the house to get the meal on the table.
Daryl walked slowly back toward their little cabin. Smoke rose up out of their chimney where Carol was keeping the fire burning for the warmth it provided—spring still holding some chill of its own, though it was nothing compared to the winter—and for every other purpose that she used it for.
The little cabin was a fine cabin, but it was a far cry from the house that Daryl had promised her. The house that he promised her was going to be big enough for them to live in. It was going to be big enough for them to grow children in. It would be big enough to offer rooms to hands they hired—young men not unlike himself just a year in the past. But at the rate Daryl was going? It would never get built.
The wood he could get. The wood he could cut himself on Hershel's farm. But he was tired of asking Hershel for what he needed. He wanted to buy his own tools. He wanted to buy his own nails. He wanted to pay Joey and Merle for the work they'd do in helping him to frame the house from his own pocket, without Hershel offering them anything to help them make up what they missed from a day working on his farm.
And the wheat money wasn't going to cover all that. At least, it wasn't going to cover all that until another harvest came in. And, another harvest in, the money that he made was going to have to go back into the farm. The money was going to have to go into things they needed to keep going.
Another harvest wasn't going to come in until they were damn near forced to hunker down once more—in the same tiny cabin that they were living in now—to stay warm for another winter.
Daryl stopped by the water pump and pumped out enough water to wash his hands and face. He mounted the steps to the little cabin and let himself inside. He was greeted by the warmth of the fire and the warmth of Carol's smile. The table was set and ready for him and Carol offered him a kiss as a greeting.
But all he could think about was how he hadn't given her the things that he'd promised to give her. He didn't deserve the affections that she heaped on him as though he were some kind of husband that was deserving of so much of her love.
Carol ushered him to the table and she served him his plate. Then she served her own and sat with him.
"You gonna bless the food?" Carol asked.
"Not in the mood," Daryl said.
Carol frowned at him.
"What's wrong?" Carol asked.
"Four are missing," Daryl said. "Rode out a piece, but there ain't no sign of 'em. Ain't gonna be. People took 'em. Weren't nothin' but people come up and flat out took 'em. I seen the boot tracks."
"There'll be more cows, Daryl," Carol said. "That brown heifer's about ready to calve."
"So she is," Daryl said. "Still three cows in the hole, Carol. Can't get ahead like that. Can't build no kinda life when you walkin' backwards twice as fast as you goin' forwards."
Carol reached a hand across the table and she patted Daryl's arm.
"You'll get there, Daryl," Carol said. "We'll get there. Miss Jo? She said that—sometimes it takes a long time to get a farm runnin' smooth. Lots of bumps you gotta get over to get there. Their farm? It weren't built in a day."
"Been a lot longer'n a day, Carol," Daryl said.
"And a lot less than a lifetime," Carol offered.
"I promised you a house, Carol," Daryl said. "A big ole farm an' a good kinda life. A nice house."
"And I believe that's what we're living in," Carol said.
"This weren't what I promised," Daryl said.
"So it's not what you'll build," Carol said. "But you're gonna build something more. When you can. When it's time."
Daryl laughed to himself. It wasn't funny, and he felt no humor at the moment, but still the laugh bubbled up from somewhere inside of him and hung in his throat where the ache he sometimes fought to keep from crying usually got caught.
"I don't even own a fuckin' hammer, Carol," Daryl said. "Ever'thing I used to build this? I got it from Hershel. Ever'thing out here? It's damn near his. I can't build us a house, Carol, if I can't even have a hammer that's mine. Had to borrow the shit to fix the fuckin' fences."
Carol shrugged her shoulders gently.
"I was supposed to go into town tomorrow to buy some thread," Carol said. "Some cloth. What if I wasn't to buy that? What if I was to buy you a hammer instead?"
Daryl shook his head at her.
"Then I ain't givin' you what'cha need," Daryl said.
"I've got all I need, Daryl," Carol said. "I don't—I don't even need that house you're talking about building. I don't need nothing more than what we've already got. But—if that's what you need? What if I was to buy you that hammer? And we'll just stretch the clothes we got a little longer. I can patch them. And I've got enough thread for a little longer."
Daryl looked at her. She was pleading with her eyes for something, even if he wasn't exactly sure what it would take to make that expression go away. The sadness in her eyes hurt his heart.
"You go to town tomorrow," Daryl said. "And you buy the cloth. Buy the thread. Get what'cha need. It don't matter, Carol. Even if I was to build us that house? I can't afford to put nothin' in it right now. I can't afford to—give you nothin' you'd need to make it a home. I thought I was gonna build you somethin' great, Carol. I thought I was gonna give you the kinda life I wanted you to have. But—I ain't the man what can give you all that."
Carol sighed and stood up from the table. She walked around behind Daryl's chair and wrapped her body around him from behind. She squeezed him and then she walked to stand in front of him. When he looked up at her, she took her hand and brushed his hair out of his face tenderly. She bent down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead before she offered him a soft smile.
"You're the best kinda man, Daryl," Carol said. "You always have been. As long as I've known you. And the life I've got? You gave it to me. And it's the best life, Daryl. The kind of life that—I only dreamed about. I'm no kinda wife if I don't make you feel like you're enough, Daryl. Like you're every bit as much a man as any other."
"You ain't done nothin' wrong," Daryl said. "You done everything I asked you to do. More than I wanted."
Carol returned to her seat and picked up her forth.
"And so have you," Carol said. "Eat your supper before it gets cold, Daryl. I won't be the kind of wife that lets my husband eat a cold supper if I can help it. Bless the food? Even if—we're missing four cows, there's another calf that's coming soon and the wheat's growing fine. We oughta give thanks for what we got to give thanks for. Even if—you feel like you can't find nothing to be thankful for."
Daryl swallowed and nodded his head at her. He reached his hand out to her and she wrapped her cool fingers around his. Daryl rubbed his thumb over her hand.
"Reckon I got some things to be thankful for," Dayl said. Carol stared at him with her big blue eyes and Daryl couldn't help but smile at her in spite of all the heavy feelings that were weighing down on his chest at the moment. "Thankful you're still here, at least."
"I'm not going anywhere," Carol said. She smiled at him and offered him a quick little wink of her eye. "Except, of course, to town tomorrow. For buying cloth and thread—I mean. But—I'll be back after that."
Daryl didn't bite back his own smile at her. He nodded his head.
"Duck your head," Daryl said. "Lemme bless this food 'fore it gets cold."