AN: Here we go, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Carol planned not to say a thing about her trip to town until Daryl gave her an opening to speak about it. She prepared dinner, just as she always did, and she called Daryl in to eat. When he came inside, she offered him a kiss and she served him before she took her seat to eat at the table with him. Daryl blessed the food with the same rudimentary blessing that he'd learned—one that asked for good health for them and blessings for them and their farm—and then he tasted the food and declared it the best that he'd ever eaten.
When Daryl had eaten a little of his meal, he wiped his mouth on the cloth napkin that Carol laid out for him and finally addressed her.
"Jubilee done good today?" He asked.
"Rode good," Carol said. "Waited good too. Just as nice as I coulda asked."
"They ain't give you no trouble in town?" Daryl asked. "Give you ever'thing you need?"
Carol hummed and nodded her head. She wiped her own mouth and got up from her chair. Most of her purchases wouldn't be of interest to Daryl—he appreciated her work on their clothes, but he didn't care to know the details behind it—but the gloves and the hammer were specifically for him. Carol gathered up the two items and she brought them over, wrapped in the brown paper that the store clerk had wrapped them in, and placed them on the table to the side of Daryl's plate. Daryl stared at them a moment and then looked at her with furrowed brows.
"What you got here?" Daryl asked.
"For you," Carol said.
"What is it?" Daryl asked.
Carol laughed quietly to herself.
"It's a present, Daryl," Carol said. "You have to open it to know what it is."
Daryl stared at the brown paper like it might be holding a rattler. He shook his head at her.
"Didn't ask you to get me nothin'," Daryl said.
"That's the idea of a present, Daryl," Carol said. "You don't ask for it. Someone just gives it to you because they want you to have it."
"This somethin' you get in town?" Daryl asked. Carol hummed and returned to her seat. She watched Daryl as he contemplated the packages that she wasn't certain he was ever going to open. "You went to town to get things you needed, Carol. Things for clothes."
"And I got that," Carol assured him. "But I got you a few things too."
"We ain't got the money for things, Carol, that we don't need," Daryl said.
Carol licked her lips.
"It was my money," Carol said. Daryl opened his mouth like he might protest and Carol shook her head at him. "It was my money, Daryl. Money I brought with me from Andrea. I didn't spend none of our money on that. It was my money that was supposed to be keepin' me safe. It was supposed to be—in case somethin' happened, Daryl, and I was needing money to get back there. To get back somewhere safe."
Daryl looked struck. He looked, also, like the spit that he was trying to swallow down—now that his meal seemed to be forgotten about—was getting stuck in his throat.
"You kept money from there?" Daryl asked. Carol nodded her head gently. "'Cause you was thinkin' that I wouldn't keep you safe?"
Carol frowned at him.
"I didn't know what was gonna happen, Daryl," Carol said. "I didn't know nothing when I came with you. And I got there before because I wasn't smart enough to have some money tucked away. I didn't have nothing to call my own. Where I came from before? I didn't have nothing, Daryl. And the only reason I even lived at all is because Andrea...well, because she took me in. I just kept the money to feel safe, Daryl. In case something were to happen and you weren't to think I was fit to be your wife."
Daryl swallowed again, still obviously pained by the spit that was hung in his throat, and he shook his head.
"Then you ought notta spent your money," Daryl said. "If it was there to make you feel safe? If it did what it was supposed to do and made you feel safe? You ought notta spent it."
Carol smiled softly at him and shook her head.
"I don't need it anymore," Carol said. "I don't need the money to feel safe. I—I've got you. And you make me feel safe, Daryl. So I don't need the money. So—open your gifts. You'll see, then, that I spent money on something new. Somethin' else that makes me feel safe."
Daryl picked up the brown paper bundle and held it in his hands for a moment before he unwrapped it and came to hold the hammer and gloves in his hands, the paper falling to the floor. He stared at both of his new possessions and turned them over in his hands like he didn't know what he was looking at.
"Your hands dry somethin' awful out there," Carol said. "Bleed like they do. But the gloves? They're good gloves, Daryl. They'll—they'll keep your hands safe. They won't hurt so much. And the hammer? Daryl—maybe we can't buy you all the tools you need right now. And maybe you gotta go a little bit longer borrowin' things from Hershel Greene. But you got a hammer now. It's the first thing you need, right? The first thing you gotta have to start buildin' all the things I know you gonna build."
"How much you spend on all this?" Daryl asked.
Carol's stomach turned. He was worried about the money. He was always worried about the money. And Carol understood that he was worried about it because the money was what meant they kept going or they didn't—but she wished she could erase the worry from his face. Even for just a moment, she'd like to see him without worry.
"I never asked you how much you spent to bring me here," Carol said. "I did see what you handed over to Andrea. To pay back all I owed. To pay back what I woulda earned to give her myself. I did see that, Daryl. But I never asked you what you spent on anything else. Don't ask me what I spent when it was my money to spend in the first place."
"Money you earned there," Daryl said, his tone not giving away anything about what he was thinking at the moment. "Money you earned—did you earn it with me, Carol? Was it my money? From when—from when I come there?"
Carol's stomach twisted with the expression that crossed Daryl's features quickly. She didn't believe it was right to lie to him. He was her husband and she should be honest with him about everything. But she also felt that, maybe, it wasn't always wrong to lie. Not if the lie wouldn't hurt him—but the truth might.
"Yeah," Carol said softly. "Probably, Daryl." She chose, rather than to side with either truth or a lie entirely, to choose something that was right down the middle. "I mean—I didn't mark the dollars but—I think it was. Money you gave me. Money you paid me."
Daryl nodded his head quickly. He put the hammer and gloves on the table.
"You shouldn'ta spent your money," Daryl said.
"I had to," Carol said. "I had to because—I didn't need it no more. Not for what it was intended. And there's gonna be no more mine and no more yours, Daryl. There's just—what we got. What we need for building our life. And—that money? It's not my life now, Daryl. You took me away from that. You gave me this. And—it only seemed right that the money oughta go into building more of this. More for us."
Daryl nodded his head. It was, apparently, all the acceptance that Carol could expect from him at the moment. Carol pushed herself up from the table and went for the forty cents that she had planned to show to Daryl. As long as she was putting it all out there, now was as good a time as any to tell Daryl of her plans for their future.
Carol returned to her seat, the money cold in her hand, and finally put the change on the table in front of Daryl.
"That what you got left?" Daryl asked. "Of the money I give you at Andrea's? The money you had from Eden?"
Carol shook her head.
"That's the money I earned today, Daryl," Carol said. "Forty cents. I earned it in town today."
Daryl's face went red and Carol immediately realized her mistake. She didn't have time to correct it, though, before Daryl reacted. He stood up quickly enough that his chair rocked and Carol feared—for just a moment—that she might have found the one thing that would make Daryl break his promise to her that he would never hit her.
He looked mad enough to hit her.
But he didn't.
"Fuck you say?!" Daryl spat at her. "Send you to town to buy some damn shit you need for mendin' shirts an' you tell me you...you tell me you..."
"Daryl!" Carol yelled, hoping to surprise him enough to demand his attention. She felt her throat tighten. She felt the threat of tears. "No! No! I promise! I didn't earn it like that! I'd never do that! I'd never do that to you!"
Daryl didn't seem to hear her, though, because he turned and walked away from her. He walked out the door of the cabin and he dismounted the steps quickly. Carol followed after him as he walked away without seeming to have any real destination in mind beyond away from Carol.
"Don't'cha fuckin' follow me!" Daryl spat at her. "Don't'cha do it!"
"Daryl!" Carol called, ignoring his insistence that she not follow him. "You gotta listen to me! You gotta hear me! I didn't do nothin' that you wouldn't want me to do. I swear to you! I didn't earn that money doing nothin' that would've shamed you!"
Daryl stopped walking, but he kept his back turned to Carol.
"Then how the hell you earn it?" He asked, his voice coming out like he was barking at her.
"I earned it keepin' books for the store clerk," Carol said. "In town. I can cipher, Daryl. I can read and write. I got a job with him. Just workin' the hours I can in a day. Ten cents on the hour. I'll be makin' sure he's gettin' the money he's supposed to. Help straighten up the store. I'll only be working the hours that I don't got things I need to do here."
Daryl turned around, but Carol didn't miss the swipe he took at his face with the back of his hand. She didn't say anything about it either, though.
"Ain't right you workin' somewhere," Daryl said. "Ain't right you got a job somewhere. You ain't supposed to have to work, Carol. I weren't gonna make you that kinda wife."
"You didn't make me anything, Daryl," Carol said. "That's why I didn't tell you about it before I talked to him. I knew you wouldn't want me doing it. But—Daryl? You don't want me working here because you say it ain't woman's work. You say that feeding the cows and working around here? It's too heavy and it's too hard for me. Workin' there? Daryl—I'm not lifting nothing heavier'n a pencil. And it's money, Daryl. It ain't much, but it'll help get us through to the harvest. It'll help buy more tools that you need. It'll help buy seed. Cows. Whatever we need to buy? The money I earn there? It spends just as good as the money that came from the wheat." Daryl shook his head at her. Even if she couldn't see his face clearly, she could tell that he was calming down. He was holding himself differently. His fists were no longer balled at his side. "Come back inside, Daryl?" Carol pleaded softly. "Please? Finish your dinner. We can talk about this. We can—sit down at the table and we can talk about it. Please, Daryl? For me?"
"It don't look right," Daryl said. "You havin' to work in some store 'cause I can't give you what'cha need."
"You give me all I need," Carol said. "And me workin' in that store doesn't mean that you don't. It means—that I want to help give you what you need. Daryl? Come back inside?"
Daryl accepted Carol's request to return to the house. His strides, even though he was calmer than he had been, still carried him a farther distance over the ground as he headed back toward the cabin. In silence, Carol doubled her own steps to keep up with him and she followed him back inside their home. Inside, Daryl stood awkwardly by his chair until Carol invited him—being sure to use the same soft tone that she'd employed outside—to sit with her. As soon as he was seated, she returned to her chair.
"You need to finish your supper," Carol said.
"Ain't real hungry," Daryl said.
"Keep your strength up," Carol said.
"So my wife don't gotta work to take care of us both?" Daryl asked, a little bitterness coming through in his tone. "So ever' damn body don't know that I can't take care of my own damn wife?"
Carol swallowed.
"So you can build us the life that we wanna have together," Carol said. "With a strong back and—strong arms. Strong hands." She sucked in a breath. "Daryl—if me workin' at the store's gonna be too hard on you? If you really don't want me to do it and you just—you just can't see a way around letting me do it? Then I'll ride into town tomorrow and tell him I won't do it. I'll stay here. Just right here. And I won't go anywhere and I won't do anything that you don't want me to do. If that's what you need me to do? To be the kinda wife that you need me to be? Daryl—I can do that. But..."
"But..." Daryl echoed.
"But I really hope that you'll be the kinda husband that'll understand that there's things you need to do and there's things I need to do," Carol said. "And—there ain't no shame in either of 'em if we're workin' toward the same thing."
"What they gonna say, Carol?" Daryl asked.
Carol shrugged her shoulders.
"There's women in town that's got jobs," Carol said. "There's a woman in town that sets the type for the paper. And there's a woman that works at the bank. I've met her a couple of times. A woman that—she works doing bookkeeping like I'm doing, but she does it at the hardware. Daryl—there's women that are workin' out there and they're earnin' the money that they need. Respectable married women."
"They husbands is the men what owns them places," Daryl said. "An' you know it too."
Carol swallowed and nodded her head.
"They are," Carol said. "But Joseph Wagner? The clerk? Daryl—he's married too. Got grown kids. There ain't nothin' shameful about me working there. He can't cipher, Daryl. Not real good. And I can. It ain't much money, but it's something. It's something that would help me feel like I was helping you, Daryl. And you don't gotta worry about me gettin' kicked or—or trampled by a bull. You don't gotta worry about me gettin' hurt because I'm just workin' with paper all day. Daryl, I've done things I was ashamed of before. Things where—I couldn't hold my head up in front of people. But this ain't one of them things. I had no kinda reputation. And now? I'm married to Daryl Dixon. A man who pays honest money for things and don't live on credit in town. A man that—don't go into any of them establishments and don't frequent saloons. And I gotta leave at a good hour to get home to fix my husband supper when he comes up outta the fields where he's working to build us the best kinda life we can lead together. I gotta—get home so I can fix my husband's plate. Serve it to him like I should. So I can fix his bed for him. I got a respectable life now, Daryl, and you gave that to me. Won't you let me work a respectable job so I can help us get everything you dreamed of? Everything we dreamed of? Just until the wheat comes in and we got all we need?"
Daryl chewed his lip. It was clear that he wasn't entirely sold on the idea and it was clear that he was struggling with a good deal of emotions that he wasn't ready to share with her, but it was also clear that he was at least considering Carol's plea.
Carol carefully reached her hand over and placed it gently on Daryl's arm.
"At least consider it?" Carol pleaded.
"You got a lotta work here, Carol," Daryl said. "Chickens and hogs. Makin' the home."
Carol smiled to herself. She swallowed and nodded her head.
"I promise that I don't leave the farm until my chores are done," Carol said. "But—I'm gettin' so used to what I'm doin' here? Daryl, I'm gettin' done in part the time I used to take. And I promised you that I was gonna keep you a comfortable home. That I was gonna be here and I would be everything you wanted me to be in a wife. If you tell me that I'm not doing that? Daryl—there ain't no question about it. I'll quit working in town. I'll come back here and I'll do nothin' except what makes you happy."
"But this is gonna make you happy?" Daryl asked.
"I think it would make me very happy," Carol said, "to feel like I was helping in some way."
Daryl sucked in a breath.
"You really wanna do this?" Daryl asked. "You ain't—you ain't doin' it 'cause I don't give you enough?"
"I want to do this," Carol said. "You give me more'n I even knew I wanted."
"What if I was to—give you a trial run of it?" Daryl asked. "See how it is? And if you don't like it? Then you don't gotta do it. The minute you don't be happy doin' it? You don't gotta do it."
"I think that would be fair," Carol said. "And—if you're not happy? If you're not—if I'm not giving you what you need? Then I don't gotta do it, either." Daryl nodded his head. "Does that sound fair to you, Daryl?" Carol pressed.
"A week," Daryl said. "Lemme just—lemme just think on it a week."
"While I'm working?" Carol asked.
Daryl nodded his head again.
"A week's fair to see—if you gonna like it," Daryl said. "And I want you home at a decent hour. You ain't ridin' back and forth when it's dark or even gettin' close to it."
Carol shook her head.
"Never," Carol said. "I'll leave when the sun's up and I'll be back when it's up. I promise you."
"And I don't want—I don't want people thinkin' that I don't treat you right. That I don't—that I ain't the right kinda husband for you," Daryl added.
Carol smiled to herself.
"They'll never think that," Carol assured him. "And if they do? I'll set 'em straight, Daryl. I promise you that. I'll tell 'em that they're wrong."
Daryl laughed quietly to himself. A short burst of the amusement crept through his serious countenance for just a moment.
"I'm sure you will," he said. "You don't hold your tongue for nothin' else."
"Does that bother you, Daryl?" Carol asked. "You want me to change that?"
"No," Daryl said. "Don't want'cha to change a thing."
Carol became aware of the fact that her heart was pounding in her chest only once she realized that whatever trouble might have been stirred up had passed—at least for a week.
"Eat your supper, Daryl," Carol said softly. "And then we'll go to bed. We both got a lotta work to do tomorrow. And I wouldn't mind—if we could manage—getting to bed a little early tonight. I'd like a little time with my husband. If you think you've got it to spare?"
Daryl looked at her and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly. The redness was draining out of his face, but it was clear that his earlier burst of anger left him at least a little tired. He nodded his head gently.
"I got it to spare," Daryl said. "I might not have much else to give you. Sure not all that I want. But—that I got."