Chapter 5 - The Past
Sam rode in the bed of the carriage with Skipper, who had howled at the carriage until Emma agreed to bring him along. She sat up in the seat with Merle, who guided the horses.
"Why doesn't Daryl ever go to town?" Emma asked, breaking the silence that had surrounded them up to that point on their journey.
Merle shrugged.
"Someone's gotta stay behind and look after things."
"Aren't you or Sam perfectly capable of that?" Emma asked, turning her head briefly to look back at Sam, who was petting Skipper.
Merle didn't answer Emma. She didn't press the issue. She had just been curious, but there was no deep seeded urge to know why Daryl hardly went to town. Emma thought maybe he didn't like town very much, or that he didn't like riding in the carriage for so many hours at a time. Whatever the reason, Emma didn't care. She had shaken up the routine on the farm quite enough just by having everyone eat together. If Merle went into town, occasionally with Sam, and Daryl stayed behind, that was fine with Emma.
The rest of the trip to town was quiet. Emma took in the scenery as they descended out of the mountains. There were some very pretty fields to look out over. Wildflowers - blue, red, yellow, purple - grew in the waving, green grass. There were skinny, white birch trees and untamed cherry trees. Yellow and dark red cherries were scattered around the bottom of the trees, easy pickings for birds and squirrels.
As the town became visible, Emma suddenly remembered Clarke's request that she pay him a visit the next time she was in town. She hadn't been expecting to return to town so soon after having left. Truthfully, Emma just wanted to get the supplies she needed and head back to the farm. There was work to be done. Since she remembered Clarke, she thought of the reverend and Amy, too. If she were to drop in Clarke, she would have to see them. Emma decided, as Merle drove the carriage into town, that she wasn't going to see any of them. She would go to the general store, get the supplies, water the horses, and turn right around to go back.
"You and Sam can handle this, can't you?" Merle asked, pulling carriage up to the store.
"Sure." Emma nodded, accepting Sam's hand when he offered it up to her to help her down.
"I'm gonna water these horses while you're in the store." Merle said to Emma and Sam, who were standing side by side on the porch.
Emma watched Merle go. He headed right for the town watering hole. Even though she had a bad feeling about Merle being left alone in town, Emma headed into the general store. Sam held the door open for her. Emma couldn't help but smile at him, but her smile faded slightly when he brushed his hair out of his eyes. That would have to be fixed along with everything else on the Dixon farm.
Gideon Hawkins was behind the register when Emma and Sam entered. Lorna was sweeping not far from where he stood. When they entered, both of them looked up from what they had been doing to greet their customers. When they saw Emma and Sam, they immediately shared a look. Lorna stopped sweeping. She leaned on her broom. Emma thought, looking at large Lorna, that if she leaned any harder, the broom would snap in two. Gideon laid his hands on the counter.
"Good morning, Emma." Gideon then nodded at Sam.
"Good morning, Mr. Hawkins, Mrs. Hawkins." Emma reached into her pocket for her money. "I have some things I'll be needing."
"Well, let's hear it." Gideon lifted one hand, a finger ready over the register.
"I trust you have a list for the Dixon farm?"
Mr. Hawkins kept a record of his usual customers' needs and supplies, that way, it was easier to get their goods together when they came in.
"Lorna?" Gideon turned to look at his wife.
Lorna looked put out to have to leave while Emma and Sam were there, but she abandoned her broom to fetch the list. Sam accompanied her to the back of the store. He held the door open for her as she headed into the office adjoining the store.
"We had heard from Reverend Horvath that you had gone to work for Merle Dixon in the mountains." Gideon wasted no time after Sam had gone. "How are you doing up there?"
"Fine, thank you." Emma replied simply.
"Lorna and I were real worried when we heard the news, I know some other folks were, too. Mrs. Peletier expressed some concern for your well being-"
"It's silly, really." Emma shook her head with a smile. "There isn't any reason for anyone to worry about me. I spent two nights there already, and look, I'm in one piece aren't I?"
Gideon cleared his throat noisily and looked down at the register. Clearly, the conversation was not going in the direction he had either hoped for or thought it would go. Emma couldn't understand why anyone would be so concerned for her. Merle and Daryl were rude and acted as though they had been raised in a barn at times, but they weren't criminals. It wasn't as though Merle Dixon had ridden into town, and under cover of darkness, stole Emma away out of Andrea's bedroom. She had gone with him willingly after he had offered her a job.
Lorna returned with several pieces of paper. Sam followed her up to the counter.
"Here you are." Gideon mumbled, pushing the papers towards Emma.
Emma looked them over.
"Let's see...this amount of lumber should do for replacing the loft floor." Emma used a pencil to circle the amount for Mr. Hawkins. "I'll need a dozen of these shingles. We have nearly everything to replace them, but the chisel I found in the barn was worn beyond use. You had better give us two dozen shingle nails."
Gideon went to work on the register as Emma rattled off the supplies she needed.
"I'll need several gallons of white and brown paint." Emma went through the papers again. "I need glass in these dimensions for two windows. Also, everything listed here pertaining to the garden, I'll need double of it."
"Is that all?" Gideon asked.
"That should do it." Emma replied, sliding the papers towards Gideon.
"All right..." Gideon pressed several more buttons on his register. "This will take some time for Lorna and I to get together. Why don't you come back in an hour or so?"
"That sounds fine." Emma said, stuffing her money back into her pocket.
"Where is the carriage?" Gideon asked, glancing out the window. "We'll need you to leave it here so that we can pack everything up for you."
"Merle took the horses to the trough." Emma replied. "Sam and I will go and get him. We'll bring the carriage once the horses have been watered."
Outside, when Emma looked down at the community trough, she didn't see Merle.
"He's probably at the saloon." Sam answered Emma's question before she could even ask it. "Do you want me to go and get him?"
"No." Emma shook her head. "We can go together."
Emma and Sam walked side by side along the street in the direction of the saloon.
"Sam, tell me about yourself." Emma said finally, turning to look at Sam.
Sam pushed the hair out of his eyes to return Emma's gaze.
"Like what?" Sam asked.
"Anything."
"Well..." Sam twisted his mouth as he thought of what to tell Emma. "I've lived my whole life on Merle's farm, or at least that's all I can remember. My ma and pa lived a few miles out of town 'til my ma died. She died having me, so I never met her."
Emma could sympathize with young Sam. She had never known either of her parents.
"My pa met Merle's daddy when I was three, offered him a job on the farm. I think he felt sorry for my pa. Merle's daddy went through the same sorta thing with his wife...so that's what I think, anyway." Sam shoved his hands into his pockets. "Well, I watched my pa work the farm and learned everything from him and Merle's daddy. By the time I was twelve, Merle was sending me off to do my own jobs on the farm-"
"Merle?" Emma asked.
"Well, yeah." Sam looked over at Emma. "Merle's daddy died ten years ago, left Merle the farm."
"How did he pass away?" Emma asked.
"I don't know. There wasn't much warning." Sam shrugged his shoulders. "He was sixty-six when he died. I think he was just worn out from working so damn hard his whole life."
"What about your father?" Emma asked softly.
"My pa got real sick four years back, only made it a few weeks before he died..." Sam stared hard at the ground as he walked.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Sam." Emma murmured, laying a hand on Sam's back.
It was quiet. Emma figured that Sam was thinking about his father and probably didn't want to talk anymore. She kept her hand on his back for a few moments, then let it slip from him. She didn't want to be intrude upon however Sam was feeling or what he was thinking.
"It was hard on Daryl, too." Sam suddenly spoke up.
"What?" Emma asked.
"My pa's passing." Sam replied, meeting Emma's confused expression. "Daryl was only fifteen when me and my pa came to live on the farm. He'd just lost his mama. Him and my pa got pretty close...real close..."
Sam looked down suddenly, and when he lifted his eyes, he looked almost guilty.
"I think in some ways...Daryl was closer to my pa than his own."
Before Emma could even think of replying, a man was suddenly thrown out of the saloon's swinging doors. He landed on his back with a thud that Emma could feel beneath her from where she stood only fifteen feet away. She wasn't surprised when Merle emerged from the doors after the man on the ground.
"Get up, you son of a bitch!" Merle shouted down at the man.
Emma was about to hurry towards the scene, but Sam caught her wrist.
"You better let me handle this, Emma." Sam murmured.
Emma felt her anger flare up upon hearing Sam's words. She wasn't angry with Sam. She was angry because she could tell that the boy was used to Merle's fighting and having to break it up. That was unacceptable to Emma. It was bad enough that Merle and Daryl didn't maintain their homes, didn't clean, and didn't take meals together like civilized people. To see that Merle obviously made it a habit of getting into fights in front of Sam was more than enough to send Emma over the edge.
"Samuel Graysmith, you had better go and get that carriage ready." Emma told Sam sternly, removing his hand from her wrist. "If I have to ask you again...you will wish you had listened to me the first time."
Emma made sure Sam understood her. He took a step back from Emma, looking nervously from the fight, to the carriage, and back to Emma. It took him only one second to make his decision. When Emma was sure that Sam was going only to the carriage, she returned her attention to Merle, who was threatening a second man that had appeared with a broken bottle. Emma strode towards the fight, tucking any stray waves behind her ears. Her footsteps were loud on the wooden walkway beneath her feet, for Merle heard her coming and turned to the side to see who was approaching. When he saw it was Emma, he grinned at her with all of his teeth.
"Well, girl-"
Emma had opened her right hand as she got closer to Merle. When she was close enough, she connected a hard slap with his face. Before he had time to react or recover, Emma seized the broken bottle from Merle's hand. She threw it down on the ground so that it couldn't be used as a weapon. Then, she gave Merle another good whack across the back of his head.
"What in the hell are you doing?" Emma snarled.
"I oughta ask you the same goddamn-"
Emma cut off Merle's shouting with another smack across his reddening cheek.
"Merle, get your ass in that carriage," Emma pointed at the carriage, "now."
"Who in the-"
"Merle," Emma closed her eyes and raised her voice louder, "if you don't get into that carriage...so help me God, I will leave you stranded here in Scarlet Town."
Emma could tell Merle was drunk. She could smell the whiskey on him and hear the slurring in his voice when he spoke. During their altercation, Merle was unsteady on his feet. Emma knew it wasn't from her blows to his face. Had he been sober, he might have fought Emma harder or simply ignored her. Instead, he stared at her with a blank expression for several minutes. Then, he sighed and hiccupped.
"Well, I guess they've had enough for today." Merle slurred, waving at the two men who were standing off to the side, stunned by the scene in front of them. "They couldn't have handled much more from old Merle, anyways."
"Get. In. The. Carriage." Emma commanded firmly, quickly losing the faint glimmer of patience remaining within her.
Merle waved his hand at Emma, nearly falling over in the process, but he stumbled towards the carriage. Sam moved as though he was going to get down from the seat to help Merle into the carriage bed. It took only one look from Emma for him to remain seated. While Merle struggled to get into the bed, arguing with Skipper as he howled at all of the activity going on, Emma was finally able to address the two men who had been involved in the fight.
"I apologize for Mr. Dixon's behavior today, and I can promise you that this will be the very last time he ever does anything like this again."
The man who had been thrown out of the saloon rolled his eyes and elbowed his friend, who had a similarly skeptical expression on his face.
"Yeah." The first man huffed, fingering his bloody lip. "We'll see."
"Yes," Emma nodded, "you will."
0o0o0
Merle slept in the bed of the carriage the whole way back to the farm. Sam guided the horses. Emma silently seethed beside him. When they arrived at the farm, Emma asked Sam to put away all of the supplies they had brought back with them. Meanwhile, Emma dealt with Merle. There was no use in trying to talk any kind of sense into him while he was drunk, so Emma decided that part could wait until he sobered up. Emma helped Merle into his house and had him lay down on the couch while she prepared a concoction that would prevent Merle from feeling ill the next day.
"Merle." Emma shook Merle's shoulder as he dozed on the couch. "Merle, wake up."
Merle grumbled, then opened one eye to look up at Emma.
"What's it?" Merle mumbled.
"Drink this." Emma held a glass of red liquid to Merle.
Merle eyed the glass suspiciously with his one opened eye.
"What's it?" Merle repeated himself.
"It's mostly tomato juice, but there are a few herbs and spices in there so that you won't feel sick in the morning." Emma replied, forcing the glass into Merle's hand. "When all of that is gone, and I mean all of it, come into the kitchen. I'll clean you up."
While Merle sipped on his juice, complaining and groaning the entire time, Emma went out to the garden to look for witch hazel. Sam was still in the barn putting supplies away. Skipper was in there, too. He had taken a liking to Sam, which didn't surprise Emma one bit.
Emma went carefully into the garden.
"What're you doing?"
Emma turned to see Daryl kneeling on the ground on the other side of the garden fence. Even though it had been Merle fighting in town, Emma couldn't help but be angry with Daryl, too. She remembered the reverend saying that when Daryl was in town, he would get involved in his brother's fights. If Daryl condoned Merle's behavior, he was just as guilty as his older brother. So, Emma didn't answer Daryl's question. She went deeper into the garden, searching for witch hazel. As she looked, she started thinking up alternatives if she couldn't find any.
"Hey!" Daryl called.
Emma heard him climb the fence and come after her.
"I was talking to you..." Daryl's bark became less intense and his voice softened. "Hey, you're bleeding."
Emma looked down at herself. She saw dry blood on the palm of her hand and realized that when she had taken the broken bottle from Merle in town, she must have cut herself. In all of the commotion, she hadn't noticed. Since Daryl had pointed it out, her hand began to sting. Emma tried to ignore the mild pain. She would take care of it later.
"What're you doing?" Daryl asked again.
Emma whirled around, causing Daryl to take a step back.
"I'm looking for witch hazel because your brother found it necessary to start a fight in the saloon." Emma snapped in return.
Daryl's brow furrowed in confusion at first, but then the creases in his forehead smoothed. He shook his head with a chuckle.
"You'll find out for yourself soon enough that there's no stopping Merle from getting into fights."
Emma scoffed. She pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek.
"Why am I not surprised by that response?"
"I don't know, why aren't you?" Daryl smirked. "Is it 'cause you know I'm bad news."
"Yes." Emma answered assuredly.
Daryl laughed.
"It sounds like you got it all figured out."
Emma folded her arms over her chest.
"You really don't care about Sam do you?"
Emma could tell immediately that she had struck a nerve. Daryl's mouth twitched before the corners of his lips turned down into a scowl. His eyes darkened.
"You don't know nothing about me, about Merle, or about Sam." Daryl pointed his finger angrily at Emma. "Just 'cause you've been here a couple of days doesn't mean you know shit, lady."
Emma took a step towards Daryl.
"I knew on my first night here that you and your brother were no good for that boy."
Daryl took two steps towards Emma.
"If that's what you think, then you're an idiot." Daryl growled. "You don't know nothing about our history together-"
"I know your daddy hired his daddy when he was little." Emma interrupted, taking another step towards Daryl. "I know that his daddy died four years ago, and when he did, I'm sure he trusted that you and your brother would-"
"Shut the hell up!" Daryl shouted, his voice frightening several birds nearby.
Emma stood her ground.
"You don't know nothing." Daryl pointed his quivering finger at Emma. "You don't know what we been through. You think your life is hard? Poor little lady didn't inherit an old man's farm. Boo hoo."
Daryl took a step forward, closing the distance between him and Emma.
"Yeah. I know about all that." Daryl's eyes were still hard, but he pulled his mouth into one of his common smirks. "When you didn't get that farm, a reverend took you in. It must've been real hard on you, living in a reverend's house, eating his food, sleeping in one of his beds. People in town gave you work. They helped you."
Daryl laughed once.
"Your life has been really tough, lady."
When Daryl had finished, neither he nor Emma spoke. Daryl's smirk faded. He set his jaw. Emma waited a few beats to make sure Daryl was through. She lifted both eyebrows.
"Are you done?" Emma asked.
Daryl took a deep breath, then he turned, and walked away.
Emma returned to the task at hand. Just as she was about to give up, she found witch hazel. She picked several flowers and took them with her back to Merle's house. He was still griping about the half finished juice when she returned. Emma ignored him while she crushed up the witch hazel to use on Merle's injuries. By the time she had finished mixing up a paste for Merle's wounds, he had made his way into the kitchen. He sank into one of the chairs at the table.
"That was the nastiest shit I've ever put in my mouth." Merle stuck his tongue out.
"It might not taste great, but in the morning when you aren't sick, you'll be grateful that you drank it." Emma replied, stone faced as she set a bowl full of hot water down on the table. "Put your hand into that and keep it there until I tell you otherwise."
Merle balanced his chin on his closed fist as he dipped his bruised, cut up knuckles into the steaming water.
"Why're you being so sassy with me, girl?" Merle asked as Emma set down her homemade paste and a roll of bandaging. "Well, sassier than usual I guess."
Emma had every intention of waiting until Merle was sober before she spoke with him about his behavior in town, but as he probed her and looked up at her, she couldn't hold her tongue any longer. She pulled a rag she had tucked into her waistband before sitting down adjacent to Merle and got it wet in the bowl of water.
"Your days of fighting are over." Emma finally said, dabbing the cut on Merle's cheek.
Merle cracked an amused smile and chuckled.
"What?"
"You heard me." Emma replied, looking Merle in the eye. "You're finished with fighting."
"The hell I am." Merle's smile grew. "Old Merle'll fight whenever he wants and whoever he wants."
Emma set her rag down on the table.
"Why do you feel the urge to fight?" Emma asked. "Do you feel as if you have something to prove to the townspeople? That you're tough? That you're strong? That they mean nothing to you?"
Emma could tell she had touched upon something when Merle's smile melted away. Suddenly, he didn't want to look at her anymore. He moved his hand around in the bowl while he stared down at the table.
"If you cared about Sam at all, you would stop acting like such a fool." Emma said, scooping up some of her paste with her fingers.
Merle moved back before Emma could rub the paste into his cut.
"Sam?" Merle's forehead wrinkled. "What does Sam got to do with anything?"
"Come on, Merle," Emma forced the paste onto his cut, "you, your brother, and this farm is all that boy has ever known. You don't think he looks up to you and Daryl?"
"Sam don't fight." Merle touched his sticky cheek.
"Not yet." Emma replied, getting up from the table for a towel.
"He won't." Merle leaned back in his chair and shook his head.
Emma sat back down with a towel in hand. She motioned for Merle to lift his hand out of the bowl. She dried it off.
"How do you know?" Emma asked, using the paste on Merle's knuckles. "How do you know that one day, a stranger doesn't say something to offend Sam and he snaps? He'll think, 'oh, well I've seen Merle and Daryl fight so many times before, so why shouldn't I do the same?'"
Emma started to wrap Merle's hand.
"Merle, you're too old to be behaving that way. Isn't it time that you grew up, if not for your sake, then for the sake of someone you care for?"
Merle never replied.
0o0o0
Emma took supper up to Merle's bedroom that evening, but he was snoring when she took his tray in. She left it on his bureau. Daryl didn't show up, even though Emma had rang the dinnerbell. She wasn't surprised and decided that after all that had gone on that day, she wasn't going to kick up a fuss about it. Instead, Emma made sure that Sam got fed. While she had been taking care of Merle, Sam had begun work on the loft floor. Since it wasn't finished, Emma would have to sleep on Merle's sofa. Sam offered his bedroom, but Emma refused it.
"I heard you and Daryl in the garden." Sam said suddenly as Emma piled food onto his plate. "I couldn't help it since I was in the barn and all..."
"I see." Emma handed Sam his full plate.
"Daryl wasn't right, was he?" Sam asked.
"About what?" Emma asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"When he was talking about your life. The business about the farm and all...that's not all there is to it, is it?"
"Oh, Sam." Emma sighed and shook her head. "You don't need to worry about my past. Everybody has one, yourself included."
Sam set down his fork.
"I want to know." Sam insisted. "You asked me about my life earlier today, and I would've asked about yours had I gotten the chance. I got it now. Tell me about your life, Emma."
"I don't think so." Emma shook her head with a smile. "Go on and eat your supper."
Sam looked deflated, but he picked up his fork. Emma watched him push corn, boiled potatoes, and baked chicken all around his plate for several minutes before she gave in. If it had been Merle or Daryl, or anyone else for that matter, she would have remained silent. Since it was Sam, Emma felt more inclined to answer his question. She wasn't hesitant because the past was painful. It was because the past was in the past. Emma had put that part of her life behind her. It did no good to think on it or talk about it. Talking and thinking didn't change all that had happened, nor did it alter the present.
"All right, Sam, you win." Emma set her glass of milk down. "If the others ever ask if you know anything about me, you just pretend you don't know. All right?"
"Of course." Sam nodded eagerly.
Emma turned her glass in slow circles on the table.
"Well, my mother died in childbirth, like yours. I'm not sure what happened to my father. All I know is that he passed away before I was born. Maybe illness? Anyways, I never knew my parents or any other relatives I might have had." Emma left the glass alone. "I was sent to live at an orphanage in Astoria right after I was born. They had wet nurses in employment...well, I didn't care for it there..."
The little boy, whose name Emma couldn't remember, had been dead for hours. It was hot that day. The stench wafting off of the poor boy's body became strong much more quickly than it would have had the weather been mild. Many of the children tried to get the attention of one of the ladies in the hall, but it was silent time. When they children cried out or banged on the bolted door, one of the ladies would whack the door with her switch and threaten to beat each and every child unless they were quiet. It wasn't until one little girl began to vomit due to the odor that the door was unlocked. Even then, the children weren't ushered from the room the ladies used as for silent time. They all watched as the ladies fetched the headmistress, who then sent a boy to retrieve the coroner. The children watched as the coroner examined the young boy's body. Then, they watched as their little friend was carried out of the room by the coroner and his assistant...
The headmistress had several ladies in her employment, but only one man. He was a short, stocky man who always wore the same stained clothes. He had a patchy beard and was missing many of his front teeth, which gave him a speech impediment. Emma had heard about him going into the girls' wing at night after the ladies had gone to bed. Several of the little girls described the horrible things the man would make them do, or what he would do to them. Those little girls that went to one of the ladies with their stories would be scolded for telling tall tales and were then punished with no supper, or with having to stay alone in the silent time room for an entire afternoon. After Emma heard the stories, she stole a fork from the dining room. She kept the fork underneath her pillow. It came in handy when the man finally crept into the room she shared with four other girls. When he reached under the covers for Emma, he got a fork in his hand...
"...so I ran away when I was eleven." Emma tucked a curl behind her ear. "It was hard to find work. I spent many weeks sleeping in alleys and on porches. Astoria had long since been established as a fur trading post. That was how I eventually found work. The men gave me odd jobs to do for them. I would dispose of animal carcasses, clean pelts, deliver furs around town, bring the men lunches from their wives...I did anything they asked of me.
As I got older, the men trusted me with more responsibilities. By the time I was thirteen, I was assisting them on hunts, helping them skin their kills, and even riding to neighboring towns to deliver furs and to collect payment. One of the men, Bill, he often hired me to help him with his kills and his furs. He was kind to me. He would split his lunches with me and one Christmas, he even paid for my lodging that week. You see, Bill's wife miscarried four babies before she gave birth to a daughter. The baby was sickly from the start. She didn't make it past her first winter. After that, there were no more pregnancies for Bill's wife. She never really cared for me..."
Bill was paying Emma to clean his pelts that afternoon. As usual, whoever was paying Emma that day provided her with a place to work. Bill had a workshed out back of his house where Emma would process his kills or clean his furs. She was just finishing up her second pelt when she suddenly heard shouting. Emma turned her head. Through the cracks in the shed walls, she could see Bill's wife storming across the yard towards the shed. Bill was hot on her trail. They were shouting at each other. Emma could only make out bits and pieces. She heard Bill calling his wife wild and telling her to get back in the house. Bill's wife was yelling obscenities. Then, she was throwing open the shed door. Before Emma could comprehend what was happening, Bill's wife was dragging Emma out by her hair. Emma clawed at the woman's hands. She could feel Bill trying to peel his wife off of Emma, cursing at her all the while. "Whore!" "Trollop!" "Tramp!" Bill's wife was screaming at Emma as her husband held her back from attacking Emma any further. Emma was only fourteen, but she knew what Bill's wife was accusing her of. Even though there was no truth to the claims, none of the men in town hired Emma to do work for them after that day...
"...so I left Astoria." Emma took a sip of milk. "I went to Burnham Town. At first, it was hard to find work again, but I started doing odd jobs around town without being asked to. I would mend fences, fix rotted porches...anything I could do to prove myself worthy of being hired. People started to notice. Then, they were paying me to do little jobs for them around their properties. I used to work a lot at one of the inns. In exchange for a room, I would do work for the owner and his wife. That was where I learned how to cook..."
Delia Green was a wretched woman. She was ugly on the inside and out. Her dark, gray hair was thinning. Her skin complexion was red and blotchy. Her nose was horribly crooked due to having it broken as a little girl. All of that could have been forgiven had she been kind, but she was awful. She barked like a dog all day. She barked at customers, at her husband, at her kids, but especially at Emma. There was always something Emma did to upset Delia. She swept too loudly, she arranged the books in the shelves in the wrong order, or it took her too long to fix the leak in the ceiling. Delia's one saving grace - her cooking. Every meal Delia put on the table was delicious. Emma was sure that was why her husband, her kids, and her customers put up with her barking. Whether it be her meatloaf, her fried chicken, or her beef stew, Delia's food was almost worth her constant displeasure with everyone around her. Emma knew Delia would never teach her how to cook, but she wanted to learn. She was already sneaking down from her room at night to look through the books on the shelves. Slowly, but surely, Emma was teaching herself to read. She had learned enough at the orphanage to begin the painstaking process of teaching herself the rest. Emma had learned from a young age that if she was going to get anywhere in life, if she was going to survive, she needed to be able to do everything herself. She needed to know how to read and write, how to be handy with tools, how to cook and clean. So, when Delia would try to teach her daughter how to cook, Emma would listen in secret. When she could, she scribbled things down. There were times when Emma was able to watch from the window outside if she was chopping wood or feeding the chickens. When Delia was out, Emma would take the opportunity to practice...
"When I was sixteen, a farmer came to town looking for help. He asked many people around town who they went to when they needed help around their property. That was how this farmer found me..."
Peter was pleased with what Emma knew how to do when she came to work for him, but there were many things she needed to be taught. He showed Emma how to care for different animals, from horses to pigs, and anything in between. He showed her how to plant, keep, and care for a garden. He taught her how to harvest crops. Since Peter provided Emma with lessons in working on a farm, he paid her very little. Since Emma had taken the job with Peter, Delia demanded she find another place to stay. So, Emma stayed at the only other inn in town. The Black Rose Inn had a bar. After a long day's work on the farm, Emma would often sit at the bar and have a whiskey or two. People rarely spoke to her, and not just at the bar, but in general. Emma, being a young woman who was working instead of actively seeking a companion and family, intimidated and confused the men. She was a joke to the women. Emma could hear them whispering about her when she passed a gaggle of giggling girls. It didn't bother Emma. For the kind of life she wanted, she didn't need a man. She didn't need family. She didn't need friends...
"Peter was too old and sickly to work after a few years of my working on his farm. His son came from a few towns over to take over. He wasn't interested in keeping me on." Emma sighed. "So, I was out of the job again. I went back to doing odd jobs, but since I was just shy of twenty, not many people were willing to hire me. Married women didn't want a young woman working in their home around their husband or their impressionable daughters. Then, there was the fire. That summer I lost my job at Peter's farm, there was a horrible fire in town. Several businesses and houses burned down. After that, it was impossible to find work. I knew it was time to move on...which is how I found Hershel."
Emma looked up at Sam with a smile.
"You probably know the rest."
Sam hadn't touched his food since Emma started her story. He was staring down at his full plate of cold food, his eyes misty. Sam blinked hard to keep the tears at bay. He didn't want Emma to see him cry.
"I..." Sam blinked again and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Emma."
"Why?" Emma asked, creases forming across her forehead.
Sam looked up from his plate.
"For what you went through..." Sam replied quietly.
The lines in Emma's skin disappeared as she smiled softly at Sam.
"You shouldn't be sorry." Emma insisted. "Everyone has a past. Mine isn't any worse than yours, Daryl's, Merle's, or anyone else's for that matter."
"But-"
"No." Emma put her finger to Sam's lips before he could speak anymore.
Sam pulled his lips together. Emma gently patted his hand.
"Now, eat your cold dinner before it turns to ice."
Emma and Sam sat in silence as they ate together, but it was a comfortable silence. Every now and then, one of them would look up at the other and smile. Skipper laid on the floor between them.
What they didn't know was that outside, Daryl was sitting on the ground with his back against the house. He had come up to the house late for supper, but then he had heard Emma and Sam talking. So, he remained outside. He heard every word of Emma's story. As he listened, all Daryl could think of was his argument with Emma earlier that day. He thought of what he had said to her, about how her life hadn't been hard. He had been wrong. Daryl sat under the night sky and listened as Emma told Sam that her life hadn't been any harder than Sam's, or his, or Merle's. He knew that wasn't true, but what he didn't know was if Emma was lying to Sam for his benefit, or if she was just kidding herself. Daryl wouldn't have been surprised by either, but he thought maybe it was a little bit of both. Emma was trying to spare Sam from being upset by her story, but she really believed what she had said. From what he knew of her, Daryl knew after only a few moments of mulling it over, that Emma didn't think of herself as a victim of her past. Even more so than the night he had carried her to bed and seen her sleeping peacefully, Daryl understood Emma.
0o0o0
"The time has come." Emma announced the next afternoon as the boys ate their lunch on Merle's porch.
"For what?" Merle asked.
Emma produced a pair of scissors and a sheet from behind her back with a grin.
"You going to dress up like a ghost?" Merle asked, lifting a bushy eyebrow.
Emma rolled her eyes.
"No." Emma answered slowly. "I'm going to cut Sam's hair."
"What?" Sam asked, his eyes widening.
"Sam, don't you trust me?" Emma asked, putting a hand on her hip.
"Well, yeah, but..." Sam brushed his hair out of his eyes.
"That is exactly why this needs to happen." Emma shook out the sheet before wrapping it around Sam's shoulders to shield his clothes from any falling hair. "Finish your sandwich."
Sam took his time finishing his sandwich. The others seemed to notice. Merle laughed openly at Sam's nervousness. Daryl even chuckled, albeit it quietly and more to himself. Emma started to snap her fingers when Sam was taking too long to finish his food. So, Sam shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth.
"I'm not going to cut it all off." Emma reassured Sam, her hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "I'm just going to trim it up so that it isn't always falling into your eyes."
"Okay." Sam mumbled, his head hanging low.
Emma squeezed Sam's shoulder once before she let go of him. Merle and Daryl watched in amusement as Emma made the first cut. Sam flinched as though she had sliced his skin with her scissors. Merle and Daryl burst into laughter. Emma continued cutting. The longer she cut, the more relaxed Sam became. He didn't squirm in his chair or wince when the scissors snipped through his hair. His red locks fell down the flannel sheet and tumbled to the floor below. After what seemed like an eternity, Emma finished.
"All right." Emma pulled the sheet off of Sam's shoulders. "Go and have a look inside."
Sam remained seated for a minute. He ran his fingers through his new hair. The breeze that nipped at his neck put a smile on his face. He would be much cooler while he worked. After the minute passed, Sam got up to go look at himself in the mirror.
"You did a good job there." Merle said as Sam went into the house.
"Well, thanks." Emma replied, putting the scissors into her waistband so that she could sweep up Sam's hair.
Emma started to sweep up Sam's hair. She noticed Merle and Daryl still hadn't moved.
"Shouldn't you two be getting back to work?" Emma asked, looking up from the porch.
"Yeah, but I was thinking..." Merle rubbed his hand over his head. "You wanna give old Merle a haircut tonight after supper?"
"Really?" Emma asked, her eyebrows lifting in surprise.
"What's she gonna cut?" Daryl snickered.
"I was gonna have her take what's left, jackass!" Merle shoved his brother away from him.
"I can do that for you." Emma finished sweeping up the hair.
Sam emerged from the house. Before he could talk himself out of it, he gave Emma a kiss on the cheek. His cheeks burst into flames immediately.
"Thank you, Emma." Sam rubbed the back of his head. "It's great."
Merle and Daryl teased Sam, but Emma ignored them.
"I'm glad you like it." Emma smiled.
The boys started getting their things together to return to work.
"Daryl, do you want a haircut, too?" Emma asked as she swept the hair into the dustpan.
Daryl smirked at Emma over his shoulder.
"You ain't getting your hands on my hair ever."
"I Had A Real Good Mother and Father" - Gillian Welch [Sam tells Emma about his life]
"Hallelujah" - Brandi Carlile [Emma tells Sam about her life]