AN: Here we go, another chapter.
By my plans, there are about 13-15 chapters left in this one. I honestly have to admit that I'm not sure because I have a very detailed plan here, but I keep adding chapters here and there because I realize there's something else I need to add. So roughly we have 13-15 left, but that all depends on how those chapters unfold and what they leave me feeling like I need to do.
I also wanted to say that, though I haven't responded to you all individually, I really appreciate the reviews you're leaving me and that you're taking the time to let me know that you're reading this story and enjoying it. As with most stories, I really wasn't sure if anybody would really like it, so it means a lot to know that you are enjoying this world with me!
I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"Sweetheart—worryin' about babies never made 'em come no faster," Miss Jo declared. "At least never that I know of. In fact—I've heard it can slow 'em down."
"I can't not worry about it," Carol said. She pretended to focus on the needlework that she was doing, but she was so distracted that she'd hardly completed a stitch in the old woman's company. She knew that Miss Jo was aware of it, too, but thankfully she wasn't pointing it out too much. "Daryl can say he's fine if we don't got a baby, but I know he wants it. Just lookin' at that woman in town. You shoulda seen him."
Miss Jo laughed to herself.
"I've known him a little while," Miss Jo said. "I suppose he mostly says what he means. I ain't known him to bite his tongue. If he says it's fine, then I'm guessin' he means it's fine. Only time I've ever known him to not be fine about somethin'...well, he weren't none to quiet about it."
"When was that?" Carol asked.
Miss Jo smiled softly at her.
"When he was set on marryin' you," Miss Jo responded. She sucked in a breath and let it out, studying her own work that she was better able to focus on than Carol was at the moment. "There weren't nothin' gonna make that boy happy until he married you. And he made sure everybody knew it."
"I know he thought he wanted to marry me," Carol said, "but you had to know I weren't meant to be no good wife."
Miss Jo rolled her eyes in Carol's direction and the signs of a soft smile pulled up at the corners of her mouth. She sighed and rested her sewing in her lap.
"To tell you the truth," Miss Jo said, "I had my reservations. I didn't know nothin' about you except that he said he met you...at a..."
"You can say it," Carol said. "Brothel. That's where he met me. I weren't nothin' but a whore when he met me. You don't gotta pretend I weren't."
Miss Jo nodded her head.
"I had my reservations. I didn't know if you'd be no kinda wife," Miss Jo said. "But more'n that? I didn't know if you was gonna have any interest in bein' a wife. Didn't know if he was gonna ride out there—all cocked an' sure that he weren't never gonna be happy no other way—and you'd just...break his heart."
Carol ducked her head. She shook her head.
"Didn't know if I wanted to marry Daryl," Carol admitted. "After—well, I knew I weren't fit to be no wife. But worse than findin' that out is findin' out you got nowhere to go. You got nothin'. Didn't want to leave Andrea and then—I don't got nowhere to go again once he finds out I weren't never meant to be no good wife."
"But to hear Daryl tell it," Miss Jo responded, "you're a fine wife. The best he could ask for."
"And you know it ain't so," Carol said.
"You help him on the farm?" Miss Jo asked.
"When he asks," Carol said. "When he'll let me. Keep my plot up for food. Do what I'm allowed to do."
"Keep his house clean? Keep his clothes clean?" Miss Jo asked.
Carol nodded her head.
"Every day," Carol said.
"Keep him fed?" Miss Jo asked.
"Make sure he's got somethin' in his belly three times a day," Carol said. "Even if he just likes eatin' the same thing over an' over again. He don't hardly want no different."
Miss Jo laughed.
"It ain't your place to judge what a workin' man wants to put in his stomach of a evenin'," Miss Jo said. "Not if it ain't doin' him no harm an' you neither. You...you—perform your married obligations?" Carol looked at the old woman and opened her mouth to speak, but she didn't say anything before Miss Jo corrected herself and clarified her statement. "You keep his bed warm?" Miss Jo asked. "And meet his needs? His carnal needs? At least—within reason?"
Carol swallowed and nodded her head. She felt her whole face run warm.
"I think I do," Carol said. "He ain't never said he ain't satisfied. And I don't really think that there'd be too much more opportunity."
Miss Jo laughed to herself and nodded her acceptance of Carol's words.
"It's clear you keep yourself clean," Miss Jo said. "Your hair isn't very tidy but..." She broke off and laughed. "But I imagine that your hair might'nt ever be tidy. Do you help him to better himself?"
Carol shrugged her shoulders.
"I suppose?" Carol answered. "He's the best kinda man I've ever known. I don't know what I could do to better him. Or to help him better himself."
"That's alright then," Miss Jo said. "But it's your responsibility to help him if you seen such an area for improvement. But gently. Don't humble him too much. That's improper as well."
Carol nodded her head.
"I wouldn't," she promised.
"Do you do him kindnesses?" Miss Jo asked. "Show him your appreciation for his work an' the efforts he puts into them? For what he does for you?"
Carol shrugged and nodded again.
"I think so," Carol said softly. "I do for him what he likes done. He likes a bath every evenin'. Before bed. He likes it when—when I wash him. Nice and gentle like, he says."
Carol felt her face run warm again. Daryl loved his baths—and Carol loved bathing him. But she'd never performed such a ritual with Ed. Ed had despised bathing and had only done it when he felt compelled to do it—and even then he didn't want her having a part in it. She'd only been introduced to the idea of washing a man by Andrea, who'd declared that washing kept away infection and sickness—things that they couldn't afford in their profession. She didn't know, then, if it was normal practice for most married people.
But Miss Jo didn't seem too entirely mortified by it or stunned. She simply offered Carol a soft smile and nodded her head.
"And what does Daryl say about you bein' his wife?" Miss Jo asked. "Our husbands can sometimes be those that judge us the harshest."
Carol shook her head.
"He says I'm the best kinda wife he could have," Carol said.
"Then he would know best," Miss Jo said.
"But he don't know no better," Carol said. "And Ed? The man that—denied me? Left me in town? He said I was the worst kinda wife that ever there was. That he didn't want me an' that nobody would."
"And where's he now?" Miss Jo asked.
"Dead," Carol said. She swallowed. She was uncertain about the true cause of Ed's death—though she didn't doubt that he was dead if Andrea said he was—and only knew what she'd been told. She supposed, though, that the truth as everyone accepted it was what was important. "Fell. Got his head stove in."
"And he denied you," Miss Jo said. "Publicly. So—in all ways, he ain't your husband no more. And his opinions are no longer of your concern." Carol nodded her acceptance of Miss Jo's views on Ed. Now that Daryl knew about him, there was no need to hide him any longer. It wasn't as though admitting he'd once been her husband could cause her any more shame than she already had in life. "So it ain't his opinions that you gotta worry about. Only Daryl's. He's your wedded husband. And if he says you're the best wife for him? He'd be the one to know. Besides—sounds to me like you're doin' your duties. Same as anyone. Maybe even better'n most."
"But I ain't give him a child," Carol said. "Not in all this time. Don't know that I ever will."
Miss Jo hummed.
"Did you know that I was married before? Before I married Hershel?" Miss Jo asked.
"No," Carol responded, shaking her head gently.
Miss Jo hummed in affirmation.
"Weren't a long marriage," she said. "Two years? I don't remember the particulars. His name was John and he was a scout. I married him when I was just about reachin' the age that my parents were worryin' I wouldn't never marry." Her face lit up a little at the memory. "I loved John."
"What happened?" Carol asked.
Miss Jo sighed and shook her head.
"He was a scout. Rode out with the army," Miss Jo said. "Most of the outfit come back. John didn't. Said he was lost out there. Said he died a hero. Didn't matter to me none. He was dead. That's all that mattered to me."
Carol swallowed and watched the old woman's face. She would have never imagined, from the way that Miss Jo was with Hershel, that she'd ever loved anyone else but the old man before—but it was clear that she'd loved this man.
"He was a good husband?" Carol asked.
Miss Jo smiled.
"Oh, yes!" She declared. "But then I was blessed with two good husbands in my life. After John's passing, I wasn't interested in marryin' again. As a widow—I didn't much have to. Everybody tells you that you got to be married, but once you've buried one husband? They don't seem to frown so much on it when you say you don't wanna marry again."
"But you married Hershel," Carol said.
Miss Jo nodded, her smile renewed from before.
"I did," Miss Jo said. "He'd already been married. Margaret. And how he'd loved her. When he first set about courtin' me? I was terrified there weren't never a chance I could live up to Margaret. She'd bore him three children. Caught the sickness and died. Left him shook to his core. When he first set himself on courtin' me? He was almost a broken man. And I knew that—if I married him? It was gonna be my job to put him back right again."
"But you married him anyway," Carol said.
Miss Jo nodded her head.
"But that ain't the important part of the story," she said. "And I didn't mean to bore you with the particulars of an old woman's life."
Carol laughed to herself.
"I'm not bored," she assured her. "I'd like to hear it. How'd he court you? What made you decide—to marry him when you weren't sure you wanted to set him back right?"
Miss Jo shook her head.
"Not important," she told Carol. "Maybe—for another time? But for now—that weren't what I wanted to talk to you about. What I wanted to tell you was what come later."
Carol nodded her acceptance.
"Go ahead," she said.
"When I was married to Hershel," Miss Jo said, "there was people about town that said he didn't make a good choice. I weren't young. I was a widow an' I was good an' set in my ways. He had three children. He had all this—though he was desperate close to losin' it all. They said he'da done better to marry him a younger woman. Coulda borne him more children. Took care a' him better'n I could when he needed it."
Carol swallowed. Her chest ached simply because she knew that people talked. She hadn't heard them talking about her—not straight out—but she'd seen a couple of people that made eyes at her and then whispered among themselves. Most accepted her, now, as Daryl's wife—but there were some that had never forgotten that she was a whore. And now that Daryl was making a name for himself and starting to bring in more money for himself, there would only be more women that would think that she was a poor decision he'd made—especially if she never gave him the children that he needed.
"You and Hershel got children," Carol pointed out.
Miss Jo nodded her head.
"Two," she said. "I wouldn'ta thought that we would. But they're here. But it weren't easy going."
"What happened?" Carol asked.
Miss Jo laughed to herself.
"Nothin' that's much worth the tellin'," Miss Jo informed her. "When we married? I was hopin' to be pregnant right off. I wouldn't be no sooner clear of our wedding night than I'd be tellin' Hershel that I was carryin' another child for him. But when I got here? There was so much that needed to be done on the farm. So much that needed to be done with the ones that he was already raisin'. Children that were missin' their mama an' weren't too happy to have me."
"They're just like you're children now," Carol pointed out. "I didn't know they weren't. Not until Daryl told me."
"But you know, just as well as I do, that what is ain't always what will be," Miss Jo said. "Or always what was. It was a hard row to hoe when I got here. But—I come to love Hershel. Ever' bit as much as I loved John. More, maybe. 'Cause John was always goin' here an' there. A scout don't stay in one place too long. No sooner'n we'd have a fight an' make up, he'd be gone again. He'd come back an' all would be forgot 'cause I didn't know when he'd be out again. But Hershel? He's here an' I'm here. An' there ain't neither one of us steppin' out on things. So you gotta learn to live together in a special way like that."
Carol nodded her head.
"I understand," Carol said. "Daryl don't like for us to quarrel. But when we do? He says we don't go to sleep as long as there's somethin' that ain't been handled."
Miss Jo laughed.
"Was Hershel that told him that, I'm sure," Miss Jo said. "Good advice. Solid. It might not be all washed away by the time you close your eyes—but sleepin' on it just lets it fester like leavin' a splinter in a wound. Best to get it out as quick as possible."
"So that's it?" Carol asked. "You—married him an' you had two babies an' you loved his like they was your own?"
Miss Jo shook her head.
"For the longest time? We waited. I cried every time my courses came on me," Miss Jo said. "I was sure I weren't never gonna give him another child. But—he told me it was fine. Said it didn't matter. He had his children. He was raisin' them. If there weren't no more, he was goin' to be fine. We were goin' to be fine." She sucked her teeth. "But still I worried somethin' awful about it. Got so wrapped up in it that I would catch myself doin' clumsy things. Drop somethin'. Leave the pen open until we were runnin' hogs down. Until, one night, Hershel sat me down at that table right in there an' he said that he didn't want me worryin' no more. If the Good Lord seen fit to give us a child, it'd be done. But it weren't gettin' done no sooner with me worryin' over it." Carol shrugged her shoulders at the old woman and Miss Jo continued. "I quit worryin' about it. Put my focus into—livin' my life. Lovin' the children that had been left behind for me in a way that woulda made their mama proud. Givin' my husband what he needed from me." She smiled, the corner of her mouth turning up just slightly with the change of expression. "And then? One day? I just felt different. I felt tired. Out of sorts. Told Hershel about it an' he worried somethin' awful. Took me straight to the doc an' I heard what I had expected never to hear. I was carryin' Hoke. An' Elizabeth—she come right on not a year later."
Carol swallowed.
"I'm happy for you that it happened that way," Carol said. "But I can't believe that's how it's gonna happen for me."
Miss Jo laughed and nodded her head.
"I understand your fear," Miss Jo said. "When we want somethin', we don't wanna hear we gotta wait for it. Don't wanna think it might not never come. We want it right when we want it. But—sometimes? The best things in life take their time. Were you happy with Ed?"
Carol shook her head.
"Not at all," Carol said.
"Are you happy with Daryl?" Miss Jo asked.
"Happier than I could've ever believed I could be," Carol said.
"Then you oughta know that sometimes what's right now ain't the best it's gonna be," Miss Jo said. "You oughta know that even more'n I did. Because you know already what it is to not be happy—and to find that happiness when you're least expectin' it. It was different for me, you know. I did love John. Losin' him didn't feel like no blessin'."
"I'm sorry," Carol offered. Miss Jo shook her head.
"Don't do no good for anybody to be sorry for what they can't change," Miss Jo said. "If you an' Daryl are meant to have a child? You'll have one. But it'll happen in its time. Same as ever'thing else."
"It was different for you," Carol said. "Hershel already had three children. If he didn't have no children with you? He was still gonna have the three. You were still gonna have the three. He says it's fine if we don't have 'em, but Daryl wants children. And I wanna give him what he wants. I want him to have what he wants."
Miss Jo picked up her sewing and focused on it again for a few moments in silence. Then she put it down and caught Carol's eyes again.
"I've known Daryl for a while," Miss Jo said. "He never said—nothin', really, about wantin' a wife. Nothin' about wantin' a farm. Nothin' about wantin' a child. I thought—at best he'd be livin' in our attic until we was to pass away an' he'd have to find another life for himself. Maybe the children would see fit to cut him in on some of what we had to leave 'em. And then one day—he come downstairs an' there weren't nothin' doin' until he had a wife. Not just any wife, neither. Had to be the one. The only woman that had turned his head." Carol swallowed and somewhat nodded her head. She'd heard it before. She understood what the woman was saying, but she couldn't bring herself to say it in those words.
"But he wants a child," Carol said.
"Point is," Miss Jo said, "that he didn't say nothin' about wantin' a child until he was married to you. Marryin' you? Drove him to want a farm. Drove him to wantin' a child. Wantin' a life for himself. He wants a child with you—if it should be that you would have him one—but it was you that he wanted, Carol. It was a life with you that he wanted. The child? That's just the decoration. And if he says he'd be fine without it? If he says he'd be fine if it didn't never happen? Then I reckon he knows best what's in his heart."
"But what do I do?" Carol asked.
Miss Jo smiled at her.
"You live your life," Miss Jo said. "You be a good wife. Just as you should any way. You pray about the child you hope to have. And if it's meant to be? It'll come to pass. And if it isn't? You be exactly what you already are—the best wife your husband can have." She sighed. "But worryin' a baby never made it come no faster. Believe me—I know."