AN: Here we go, another chapter here.
Trigger warning and a note about trigger warnings here.
There is discussion of abortion and abortion practices in a few chapters of this story. This is one of them. It's not graphic, but it is mentioned/alluded to in this chapter. During the time period when this story takes place (roughly between 1880 and 1890 in keeping with the research I've been doing), condoms were available as a source of birth control. However their availability and use depended on a number of factors. Alternative methods of birth control were also in use (believed to be both successful and unsuccessful according to the women who had been interviewed in one study that I read), and sex workers had a number of methods for ending unwanted pregnancies that resulted from their profession.
Given Carol's profession in the story, these things will be discussed/alluded to. I will provide a trigger warning on each of those chapters, and I will try to give you an idea of how in-depth things could be.
I still recommend, if you're triggered by this (and especially if you're quite sensitive to the topic) that you read those chapters with some caution and preparation.
This chapter has some mention of these things, but there's nothing in detail beyond speculation that these were possibly practices that were in place during the era.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"I'm tellin' you, brother," Merle insisted. "They got some kinda way a' holdin' it back."
They were finishing up the cabin. These were the final touches. By the time Carol got home, Daryl would be ready to take her inside and show her, for the first time, the new house that they'd be calling home. It would be ready, just like Daryl promised, for them to spend the winter in it.
The very last thing they had to put in was brought special by wagon from town and Merle had gone to pick it up for Daryl. It had cost enough money that Daryl had very nearly felt light headed making the purchase, but it was going to be worth it when Carol saw it. And he'd worked hard to keep it a secret so it would be a grand surprised.
And when they finally got it set up in the house, the cook stove looked as fine in their kitchen as any had ever looked in any kitchen.
"They don't got no damn way a' holdin' it back," Daryl said. "Don't make sense. If they did? You think they'd be any of them surprise ones?"
Merle laughed.
"That's 'cause whores know things that not-whores don't know, Daryl," Merle argued. "You think on it. You tell me. You ever seen a whore what was full up with a kid?"
Daryl stood wiping his forehead. Despite the chill in the air that hinted at a winter that was coming for them, the work he'd done that day had worked up a sweat. He considered Merle's question carefully before he finally responded to his brother who was half-grinning at him while he awaited confirmation that he was correct.
"Can't say that I have," Daryl admitted. "But that don't mean nothin' neither 'cause I ain't sure I seen too many whores outside of Eden an' I didn't see a whole lotta whores when we was there."
"There's enough of 'em," Merle said. "Believe me—I seen plenty."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"How the hell would you know?" Daryl asked. "You don't buy none of 'em except Andrea an' I know it."
"Fits me just right," Merle said. "But I seen the others, Daryl. I know they there. An' you ain't gonna see not a one of 'em nowhere all heavy with a kid. It's 'cause they can hold 'em back some way."
Daryl sighed.
"Say they can, Merle," Daryl ceded. "Say they can hold 'em back. Still don't mean nothin' to me. 'Cause Carol ain't no whore no more. An' besides—she wouldn't be holdin' 'em back on me 'cause we're married."
"You married," Merle said. "But if she was to drop you a young'un...you think you'd be keen on her ridin' back an' forth into town ever' day? Shakin' your kid out on the road?"
Daryl frowned at his brother.
"You know not," Daryl said.
"Then you done got your answer," Merle said. "She's holdin' back 'cause she knows that soon as she lets one come on? She can't go back an' forth. Can't keep workin' in town like you lettin' her work now."
Daryl swallowed. He shook his head at Merle.
"She wouldn't do that," Daryl said.
"She's doin' it," Merle said. "That or she's done shakin' your kid out. Could be kids. Hell—you don't know. Don't got no idea how that shit works. That shit's whore magic. Could be shakin' your damn kids out all up an' down the road between here an' town. But she ain't gonna throw you no pup. Not never. 'Cause as soon as she do? She knows you ain't gonna want her trottin' back an' forth like she do."
Daryl shook his head at Merle.
"It just ain't took yet," Daryl said. "That's all it is. Ain't nothin' took yet."
"Then either you ain't doin' it right," Merle said. "Or she's holdin' back."
Daryl shook his head once more.
"You wrong," Daryl asserted. "You don't know what the hell you talkin' about, and you wrong!"
"You married a whore, Daryl," Merle said. "An' she might not be no whore no more. You mighta turned her into a wife, but she knows whore things."
"That ain't no whore thing to know," Daryl said. "'Cause it ain't no real damn thing. Some shit you made up. Some load of horse shit that'cha made up!"
Merle held his hands out in surrender and laughed at Daryl.
"Don't get pissed off at me, lil' brotha, for tellin' you the gospel truth," Merle said. "You don't believe me—reckon you ask Hershel 'bout it. Bet'cha he ain't never seen no whore all filled up with a young'un neither."
"Just the hell what I'ma do," Daryl said. "An' then you gonna know it too that'cha don't know shit, Merle. Don't know a damn thing!"
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Daryl couldn't quite have put a description on Hershel's facial expression as the man stood there shredding a piece of grass between his cracked fingers and chewing on the story that Daryl had just told him. But if he had to put a description on it? He might have said that Hershel looked concerned.
Except Daryl wasn't sure if he was concerned because he was considering the truth that Merle had told Daryl, or if he was concerned because he was considering the load of horse shit that his brother had dumped on him.
He did know, though, that if Hershel didn't open his mouth soon and set it straight—one way or the other—Daryl was going to lose his cool from just standing there and waiting.
"Well?" Daryl finally pressed.
Hershel sucked in a breath and then laughed to himself.
"Well I've never seen a whore that was pregnant," Hershel said. "But I've only seen a limited amount of whores in my life. You see—I married young and neither my first wife, nor my second, was particularly fond of the idea of me visitin' houses of ill-repute."
Hershel offered Daryl a knowing half-smile. Daryl ceded that, perhaps, his wives wouldn't be so keen on him visiting houses like the one where Carol had lived before. But he knew, too, that Hershel just had a way of knowing things. He'd been collecting up his knowledge, after all, for some time.
"Can they hold 'em back some way?" Daryl asked.
Hershel sucked his teeth and shook his head.
"I don't think that's possible, Daryl," Hershel said. "Cows can't hold 'em back. Chickens. Pigs. Cats and dogs. It doesn't make much sense to me that women would be able to hold them back neither. If they could, I imagine there'd be a lot less people in the world."
Daryl's chest was tight from waiting for a response and he felt it loosen a little to hear that Hershel seemed to think about things the same way that he did.
"Can they shake out your kid?" Daryl asked. "If they don't wanna have 'em?"
"Not that I'm aware of, Daryl," Hershel said. "Once they're in there, they're in there. Of course—there are things that can happen. A woman who's expecting a child could lose the child. It sometimes happens but—usually you'd know about it if it's not too early for her to even know she was carrying it."
"But not on purpose?" Daryl asked.
"I've heard that there are certain things they can drink," Hershel said. "Things that could force the child to come on out early. But those are measures that they'd have to want to take. They'd have to want to rid themselves of a pregnancy, Daryl. It don't just happen, say, on the road between here and town."
"I ain't never seen Carol drink nothin' more'n water and coffee," Daryl said. "Sometimes she'll have a lil' milk of a morning. When it's fresh."
Hershel laughed to himself.
"None of those things are going to wash out a child, Daryl, if she were carrying one," Hershel assured him. "Is it just your brother what's got you so concerned all of a sudden?"
Daryl shrugged his shoulders.
"Just seems like—there oughta be a young'un by now," Daryl said. "Merle's right. There's been plenty a' time for one to make. An'—well...I think there's been plenty a' chance for it to take."
"I see," Hershel said.
"Unless we ain't doin' it right," Daryl offered. "But—I think we're doin' it right. Carol seems to think we are and...I figured she'd be the one to know."
"It's not so tricky that you're likely to not be doing it right," Hershel offered. "Especially not if Carol hasn't said anything about it."
"Unless she just don't tell me 'cause she was plannin' on gettin' rid of it," Daryl said.
Hershel raised an eyebrow at Daryl.
"Son, that's a pretty strong accusation you're at risk of makin' against your wife," Hershel said. "You got cause for thinking that of her? Or you're just listening to Merle?" Daryl felt scolded by the old man's words—and that was mostly owing to the fact that he knew he had no reason to suddenly feel even half as suspicious as Merle had stirred him into feeling. "Has Carol ever said to you that she doesn't want to bear your children?"
Daryl shook his head.
"Said we was gonna have kids," Daryl said. "Bunch of 'em."
"So why would you believe, for even a minute, that she was lying?" Hershel asked. "It's been my experience that a woman who doesn't lie in general, doesn't just up and start lyin' about somethin' like her family."
"We don't got none," Daryl said.
"Children take their time," Hershel said. "All of mine surely did."
"You sure that'cha don't think she's holdin' back on 'em?" Daryl asked.
"I'm certain that I don't believe she can," Hershel said. "Even if she didn't want them...she could still be pregnant. That's just nature, Daryl. You see it every day."
Daryl nodded his head at Hershel.
"You think I oughta—do somethin'? Somethin' different? Somethin' special?" Daryl asked.
Hershel laughed again and sighed.
"I don't know what to tell you, Daryl," Hershel said. "If it's going to happen, it'll happen. One thing I can tell you, though, is that runnin' around after her with Merle's foolishness won't help you at all. Worryin' makes a woman sickly. And sickly women don't bear healthy children—if they bear them at all."
"So don't worry her?" Daryl asked.
"Don't worry her any more'n you have to," Hershel said. "Because a certain amount of worry—well, it's hard to avoid."
"But I been workin' to make her happy," Daryl said. "Not to worry her."
"Then keep on doing that," Hershel said. "And the rest'll come. Right when it's time."
"That stove I bought her oughta make her real happy," Daryl said. "She don't gotta cook outside at all with it. Put the wood right there an' she can cook right in the kitchen."
"You just might be on to somethin'," Hershel said. He sucked in a breath and dropped the piece of grass that was almost shredded to the point of non-existence. "You just keep doin' what you're doin', Daryl. And sooner or later? Carol'll be cooking something more'n your supper. I'm sure of that."
Daryl nodded his head and Hershel clasped him on the shoulder, squeezing hard enough that Daryl had to grit his teeth not to flinch away from the feeling of it.
"You right," Daryl ceded. "I'ma keep doin' what I'm doin'. Not gonna worry her. At least—now I know she can't be shakin' 'em out or...or holdin' 'em back or nothin' like that."
Hershel laughed to himself and shook his head at Daryl.
"And stop worryin' yourself while you're at it," Hershel said. "You're doin' alright with your life. Enjoy what you've got. More will come when it's supposed to come. And—for heaven's sake, Daryl, don't listen to Merle. He doesn't have enough real knowledge about anything to fill a flea's nose."
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"Keep 'em closed, woman," Daryl said, leading Carol into the house with his hands on her shoulders. "You gonna ruin it if you don't."
"I've got 'em closed," Carol responded. "Just don't—don't let me fall over anything, Daryl."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"You figured out the whole damn surprise already," Daryl said, readjusting her so that one of the first things she'd see was the cook stove that had cost more than thirty dollars. He wanted her reaction to be so grand that he could be sure that it was worth every dollar. "I brung you in here just to throw you on the damn floor."
"What's the real secret, Daryl?" Carol asked. "You know I been sneakin' looks around the house. I know what it looks like."
"You don't know everything," Daryl said. "You got 'em closed?" He walked around her to see that her eyes were, in fact, closed. He waved his hand in front of them and Carol laughed. "You lookin'?" Daryl asked.
"No," Carol responded.
"Then what you got to be laughin' about?" Daryl asked.
"I know you're doing something, Daryl," Carol said. "I'm not lookin' because you said not to do it, but I can see shadows. I know you're doin' something."
Daryl sighed and moved out of her line of sight.
"Open 'em up," Daryl said.
Carol opened her eyes and gasped. Wide-eyed, she looked around her at their new house. Daryl watched her and he saw the exact moment that her eyes fell on the stove. She took a couple of steps in the direction of it before she put her hand over her mouth and shook her head.
"Daryl, no!" She exclaimed. "It's too expensive!"
"If it was too expensive," Daryl told her, "then I wouldn'ta bought it. I'm sure we can afford it. But—if you don't make me feel like it was worth buyin'—then I don't know if we can keep it."
Carol turned to look at him and Daryl's heart did the odd, tight squeezing that she could sometimes bring about in him. There were clearly tears in her eyes. He had figured that she was going to be happy about it, but he hadn't figured that she was going to start tearing up on him. Her mouth slowly followed suit with her eyes and it wasn't long until she didn't look happy at all. She looked like she was damn near miserable.
But before Daryl could say anything to her about it, she rushed toward him and he caught her as she wrapped her arms around him and nearly wrapped her whole self around him right along with them.
And just like that, she was sobbing.
Daryl rubbed her back with his hand and stood there holding her against him. He was entirely unsure what he should be doing and he had no idea how he'd broken her in the first place.
"You was supposed to be happy," Daryl said. "I thought—it'd make you happy. You don't gotta cook outside no more. No cookin' over the fire where you sometimes was gettin' burned. Now—the wood goes in there, Carol. You just—cook right in here." Carol continued to sob against Daryl's chest. "Supposed to be a happy thing, Carol. Man down at the hardware—when he sold it to me? Said it was a lucky wife what had one. Said you was gonna be the happiest wife they was when I bought it." Carol wiped her face on Daryl's chest by scrubbing it back and forth against his shirt. She practically shook in his arms and he felt desperate to understand what he'd done wrong. "You don't like it that bad—I'm sure he'll take it back. I ain't even lit it or nothin'."
"I love it," Carol said, her voice muffled by the fact that her face was pressed into Daryl's chest. She tightened her hold on him. "I love it...I love it...It's perfect, Daryl."
"You got the oddest damn way of showin' it," Daryl said.
Carol pulled away from him some, but she was still shaking. Daryl could feel the tremors as they coursed through her body. She wiped at her face with the shaking hand that she wasn't using to hold onto Daryl.
"It's perfect," Carol said. "The stove is perfect, Daryl. The house—is perfect."
Continuing her practice of having the oddest ways of showing her appreciation over the new house and the stove that Daryl had put in there, large tears rolled down Carol's face that she stopped with her already wet hand.
"It don't got furniture in it yet," Daryl said. "I know it don't. But tomorrow—we gonna move what's in the old house over here. Gonna move it all in here. It'll look different, then, when it's got the furniture in it. And—I was lookin' over our money, Carol. We got some to spare. Some I thought I was gonna spend an' I didn't. Figured—we could go into town tomorrow. You an' me. Take a wagon. An' you don't gotta be workin' tomorrow sellin' stuff to other people 'cause you gonna be buyin' some stuff for the house. Stuff you wanna put in here that we don't got already." Carol nodded her head. She kept nodding her head, up and down, but she didn't have the tears under control yet. "You sure you happy?" Daryl asked. "'Cause you don't look happy. It's the oddest sort of bein' happy I ever seen from you."
"I don't deserve this," Carol said. "I don't deserve any of this."
"The hell you talkin' about?" Daryl asked. "Carol—this is the house I told you I was gonna build you. The house I was wantin' to bring you to from the first time I was thinkin' about it. This is that house. I built it for you. You the only one it was ever meant for."
"It's too much," Carol said. She looked at Daryl and shook her head. "It's too nice. It's too much."
Daryl laughed to himself and shook his head.
"We bein' honest? It ain't enough," Daryl said. "Ain't near what I wanted to give you. But—I can make it better. Gimme time? I'ma make it better. But for now? I reckon it'll do. You reckon it'll do?"
Carol shook her head at him again.
"I don't deserve this," Carol repeated. "I don't. I don't deserve this. Not any of it. Not the house...or the stove. I don't deserve you, Daryl."
Daryl swallowed, feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment, and shook his head.
"Ain't nobody deserves it but you," Daryl said. "And—I don't know if you deserve me or not but hell...I ain't no prize." He laughed to himself.
Carol nodded her head.
"You are," Carol said. "You are to me...and I don't deserve you because—you could've married someone so much better for you, Daryl. Someone who woulda deserved a house like this."
Daryl laughed to himself. He couldn't figure anything else to do in the moment except laugh to counter her tears—which were slowly drying up.
"It was built for you, Carol," Daryl said. "So I don't reckon there's nobody what could deserve somethin' that's yours more'n you do."
Daryl reached his hand up and used his palm to mop at Carol's face. When he found that his skin wasn't as absorbent as he wanted it to be, he burrowed in his back pocket and came out with the handkerchief that he carried around with him. It wasn't as clean as he wished it was, since he'd been using it most of the day to wipe sweat, but it was better than nothing. He used it to wipe her cheeks clean. He laughed to himself and looked at the cloth.
"I'll save you the sufferin' of wipin' your nose with it," Daryl said. "It don't smell like no rose. That's for damn sure. Been wipin' my face an' neck with it all day."
Carol offered him the first smile that she'd given him since she'd seen the house. It was a smile through tears, and looked a little pulled in one direction or another, but it was a smile just the same.
"I can't believe you did all this for me," Carol said.
"Didn't," Daryl said. "Done it for us. An' it ain't done yet. Tomorrow—we'll go to town. Get some nice things, Carol, to put in here. Won't have to buy it on credit, neither. Pay cash for it. Right on the spot 'fore we load it up in the wagon. Then we'll see about movin' everything over from the house. Get settled in proper."
Carol nodded her head at him.
"But tonight," Carol said, "I'll fix you your supper. And you'll get some rest. You gotta be tired, Daryl." Daryl shrugged his shoulders gently and nodded his head at Carol. She bit her lip and stared at him until it almost made him uncomfortable. She brought her hands up and caught his face, holding it between her hands. The frown returned that she'd worn before and Daryl feared she might just break into tears again. Luckily, though, she seemed to have control of it this time. "I love you," Carol said softly.
Daryl swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling swollen. He nodded his head, not hard enough to shake her hands off too.
"Love you too," he offered.
Carol sucked in a deep breath that made her chest rise dramatically.
"I know," she said. She raised herself up just a little and offered Daryl a kiss. He enjoyed it and returned it right back. Without planning on it, he moved forward, pressing himself into her and she backed up to keep herself from tipping over. She pulled away from him, laughing quietly at how close she'd come to spilling to the floor. She offered him another smile—this time more genuine than the one before—and she patted his cheek. "Come on," she said. "Let's get your supper."