This story just blew up yesterday and doubled in followers! Thank you SO MUCH for all your support and encouragement. It makes writing this story all the more fun for me.

So, Daryl and Beth's first meeting. I loved writing this chapter and reading all your predictions about how you thought it would go for them.

Special thanks to Emma who reminded me that a guy like Daryl would be suffering like a hurt animal in prison without the freedom of the woods. You are spot on, and I've incorporated that here.

Finally, I'm going to post two chapters today because you guys are awesome.

…

He was nothing like she'd expected, and yet exactly like it at the same time.

They sat at the table facing each other in silence for several minutes. Beth had the feeling he was measuring her up, but not in a creepy way. In the manner of someone who made a habit of being observant. She liked his intelligent eyes, and how they were guarded but responsive at the same time. Like he wanted to trust her but was reserving his judgment. It was smart, she supposed. You had to be smart to survive in prison and in the woods.

All his movements were deliberate. He didn't fidget or slouch at the table. He'd rested his clasped hands on the table-top when he'd sat down and they were still there.

She, on the other hand, felt incredibly self-conscious and didn't know what to do with her hands. She realised she'd been fidgeting with her plait that hung over one shoulder, and thrust her hands into her lap.

It was too tempting not to study him, to try and commit him to memory. He'd already seen a picture of her so she wouldn't be a surprise to him, but he was all new to her. He was a bit more than a head taller than her, and he had longish dark hair growing down to his collar. He was broad through the shoulders and chest and looked strong, though she couldn't make out much of him beneath the orange jumpsuit except his collar bones and part of his chest.

But it was those piercing blue-grey eyes that seemed to miss nothing that really caught her attention.

'You know, I've suddenly realised that I know practically nothing about you,' she said with a weak smile.

He stiffened, and something slamming down behind his eyes. 'Like what?'

'Like, whether you like your coffee black or white, what team you follow, if you're a mountains guy or a beach guy.'

He relaxed again and gave her a wry smile, and she realised he'd thought she'd meant what he was doing in prison. 'Well, I like my coffee black with sugar, team sports bore me, and I prefer the woods.'

'The woods, of course. I did know that.' And she grinned and remembered that this man wasn't a stranger to her after all. 'You like nature, then?'

He nodded. 'Solitude, peace. Roaming where I feel like. Knowing that I can rely on myself and the land and that everything else can go to hell.'

What must it be like for him in a place like this, trapped in a cell? There was no natural light, no trees in the prison yard. She'd go mad if she couldn't breathe fresh air or hear birdsong, and she wasn't even the outdoorsy type. He must feel suffocated.

'Did you grow up near my farm?' she asked.

He shook his head. 'North Georgia.' His eyes grew guarded again so she didn't ask him any more about that.

'How did you come to find yourself near our farm?'

'My brother and I were travelling about. Enjoying the season, going where the hunting was good. Best way to live in the summer.'

'Merle, isn't it?'

He stared at her. 'Yes. How did you know that?'

'The sheriff who told me that there'd been hunters in the woods gave me both your names. I tracked down Merle first. He … didn't want to help me.'

Daryl gave a short, humourless laugh. 'That don't surprise me much. And I bet he didn't phrase it quite so polite.'

He relaxed a little, leaning back in his chair and hooking one arm over the seat back. His jumpsuit, which was buttoned only halfway up his chest, gaped, and she glimpsed a muscled shoulder under that white tee. The butterflies in her stomach returned with a vengeance.

She shook her head. 'Not quite so polite.' Then she laughed.

Daryl smiled at her, a genuine smile, and something flip-flopped inside her. He was good-looking, and she imagined that out in the woods, free, with the sun warming his skin, the wind in his hair and grit on his hands he'd be downright handsome. He was older than her, quite a bit older, but he had a boyish charm. A strange mix of reserve, self-assuredness, and vulnerability. Beth couldn't help but wonder what had happened in his life to make him like that.

She reached down to her messenger bag, which had been thoroughly searched before she'd been allowed into the prison. 'I have a map of the woods with me. Can I show it to you?' She spread it open on the table and he leaned forward, looking at it with interest. His hands touched the map, settling the folds flat. She could help but notice the strength in his wrists and broad hands. They were capable, work-roughened hands.

'That's the farm, there,' she said, pointing to her home, 'and that's the town. And all that is the woods. But of course you know that.'

His eyes darted everywhere over the map, seeming to drink it in. 'So that's what it looks like from above. Ain't got any of the trails marked. Suppose they're not official.'

'Trails?'

'Yeah, walkin' trails. Used to criss-cross 'em with Merle. Just dirt tracks that'd been worn by feet, or maybe deer. Saw a lot of deer. Shot a few, too.'

She leaned forward, interested. 'Where would you camp?'

'Oh, all over. Down by the stream were good spots, for the fresh water. But anywhere that looked sheltered and quiet would do. We'd build a fire, skin a rabbit. Real quiet out there.' His eyes were directed at the map but didn't seem to see it any longer. She could tell he was back there in his mind.

'I'm planning on hiking in the woods tomorrow. Just to get a feel for the layout of the trails and things.'

He came back into himself and his eyes seemed to dim. He sat back once. 'Yeah. Sounds like a good idea.' His voice was husky.

Beth found herself wishing that she could take him with her. He was a woodsman. That was his natural habitat, not here stuck inside without anything natural. The prison food must be doubly awful to a hunter who was used to fresh game cooked on a fire in the open air. She'd tasted institution food and she hadn't been impressed. She'd had appendicitis as a child and had spent a few days in hospital recovering. The taste of that watery, overcooked hospital food was still sharp in her memory. It had to be much worse in here.

How long was he going to be imprisoned? She burned to ask him. Was it months? Years? She prayed that it wouldn't be long. She had a feeling his spirit would begin to fade if he was kept under these conditions for very long. Maybe there was some little way she could make things easier for him, but he was such a proud man she was afraid to offer anything. He'd already sent back her stamps.

She bit her lip, and then said, 'When I go into the woods would you like me to write you the things I see? Birds, plants. That sort of thing?'

His eyes met hers, and something sparkled in their depths. 'Yeah. I'd like that.'

Beth couldn't help grinning at him, and he smiled back, looking at her through his dark fringe.

There was a shout from the guard and all the women got to their feet. The visit was over before it felt like it had properly begun. Dismayed, Beth rose too. She noticed that the women around her were hugging and kissing their boyfriends and husbands, brief embraces under the guards' watchful eyes.

Daryl was standing too, and she had a strange urge to throw her arms around his neck. But that wouldn't be appropriate, so instead she stuck out her hand.

'It was real nice meeting you, Daryl. I'd like to come again, if I may?'

He shook her hand, clasping it gently in his large, roughened one. 'If you like.'

His non-committal tone was disappointing. She'd wanted him to say that he'd like to see her again. She swallowed, hiding her feelings. 'Well, thank you again for all you're doing for me and Maggie.'

'No. Thank you.'

Beth joined the queue of women filing out of the visitation room. At the door she looked back and he was still watching her. Beth felt her face warm and she smiled at him. She sensed his eyes on her until she disappeared from view.

In the car on the drive home she played the visit over and over in her head. Daryl was in prison and she didn't know what for, but she couldn't shake the certainty that at his core Daryl was a good man. His letters told her so, and when she'd looked into his eyes she'd seen nothing frightening or violent. Could he have been wrongly convicted? Was there some way she could help him?

He hadn't seemed like he felt strongly one way or another about whether she came to see him again, and that was a disappointment because she wanted to see him, but there'd been something in his eyes when she'd thanked him and he'd said No. Thank you. With those three words he told her how much her letters meant to him.

The butterflies were doing laps in her belly, making her feel like she was floating a few feet above her own body. Meeting Daryl was the strangest, wildest, most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.

…

June 28

Beth,

You never asked me today why I was in prison or how long I got. Respecting my privacy, I guess. I'm a private person. I think you might have worked that out.

I've been in prison just over four months now and I got nearly ten go. Maybe seven or eight if I get parole, but nobody round here gets parole that I've seen. I was sent down for voluntary manslaughter. My father. I did it.

Daryl

…

Seven to ten years :( What do you reckon Beth is going to make of Daryl's sentence and the fact that he committed a violent crime? Do you think this will affect the way she feels about him?

I'm posting two chapters today so don't forget to click over to Chapter 6 ...