Chapter 4

March

They continued that way for almost four weeks. Daryl would work Thursday through Sunday; clearing garbage people had dumped when the property was empty, fixing her car, evening out the driveway, and a host of other odds and ends. The boys followed him everywhere; Hap's endless chatter in the backdrop. They slowed him down quite a bit, with questions and wanting to help, but things still moved along. At first he had felt more kinship with the younger boy, being the younger child himself. But soon he learned that Alfie was much more like him in temperament, asking thoughtful questions and watching with a careful eye. And then there was May. She treated him much like she did the boys, bandaging scrapes and pats on the head now and then, but he never again felt like she was making passes at him. He figured she wanted a friend, and he was happy to be there however she wanted him. She always apologized on Sundays, when she handed him his envelope full of cash; that it should be more, with all he did for them. He always told her to shut up about it- because god knows he would never tell her that they were the only reason he was getting out of bed in the morning.

Finally, she asked him to do something he didn't know how to do; fix the fuse box. "It's electrical, not somethin' I've ever done. But I know a guy." She raised one eyebrow, which by now was his clue that she was not impressed. "Don't worry, it's my Uncle. He's handy as shit."

He got Jess to come out on a Saturday because Daryl was family. They stood alone in the laundry room, working on the switches while May kept the boys outside and out of the way. They were about half way through when Jess interrupted their silence. "So, you going to Merle's sentencing hearing?"

"What's the point? That judge is a bitch. And the prosecutor ain't no help either. Aint' no difference me bein' there or not."

"Probably. And you know how I feel about your brother. No love lost there. But he's your brother, and he's looking at fifteen years. That's a long goddamn time to be away. And you know he aint' getting no parole."

"It's his own goddamn fault- leavin his finger prints because he couldn't fucking wait to take a pill. Not ten more fucking minutes. Goddamn junkie."

Jess filled in a switch and turned to Daryl. "I'll let it go for now. But think about it. I don't think I can be there that day, but one of us should be."

Daryl scoffed and let his hair fall in his eyes. He would have cut it weeks ago but May had told him that it suited him, and now he was pretty sure he would never get it cut again. Jess had turned back around to the panel, but kept going. "So tell me about this girl of yours that you have me out working in the sticks for, on a Saturday, at half fucking price."

"She aint' got no husband to help her, he died a couple of years ago. She don' talk about him much, but it sounds like he was a pretty useless asshole. She moved over here from out west, found the farm online and just up and decided to start over. An' she works at the county court house with Carol Peletier, that chick I went to high school with."

"And?"

"Aint' no fuckin' 'and'. I know what you're gettin' at and there aint nothin' else."

"Bull shit. And you know it." Jess turned back around. "She looks at you like you hung the moon, and you're telling me there's nothing there? That you never even took her out to dinner?"

"No, it aint' like that" he spat out. May didn't really feel that way about him- did she?

"You like her don't cha? You treat her like she was made of porcelain and you can't make eye contact for more than a few seconds."

"Maybe. I don't know." Jess was getting him all confused in the head. It had been so good till now, why fuck it up?

"Well she's got a pair of cow eyes on for you like I've never seen before, and if you don't see it then your blind and dumb. Ask her out before someone else does. You'll find another job if she fires you. But she won't- I'll bet my tool chest on it." Jess dropped the subject and went back to working, but Daryl ran it through his head over and over again for hours afterwards.

April

Spring came with a torrent of storms, rougher then they had seen in a while but not the roughest ever. It had been raining for days, but by Wednesday the biggest storm hit, knocking out power to several areas in the county. May and the boys came home to a dark, cold house; and after starting a fire she called Daryl.

"Hey, I'm just calling to see if you have power."

"Nope, haven't had all day. Probably won't for a while neither, hill country aint' exactly high priority."

"Are you doing alright? Until they turn it back on?"

He couldn't help but let out a little chuckle. "Yeah. You and the kids all set?"

"Well I'm about to find out." She laughed; "I got a shitty fire going, and we're about to find out if I can cook on a wood stove."

"Damn it all woman, I'll be over there in a minute." He hung up the abruptly, and she stared at the phone for a second before putting it back on the table. Daryl could be such a mystery sometimes. He was the first person she had ever met that could be tender and thoughtful while using a belligerent tone. She changed out of her work clothes, and by the time she got downstairs Daryl was in the living room stoking the fire.

She pulled her thick sweater closer around her. "Jesus, that was quick. Did you jog?"

"Bettern' gettin' soaked. Hey, I thought you said you grew up in the country. How come you don't know how to cook on a wood stove?"

She glanced at the boys sitting at the table, busy with homework and teasing each other. She got up closer to the stove, kneeling next to Daryl, her voice soft. "I was generally considered to be the useless one in my household. Mostly because I wasn't a boy, but also because I refused to accept that just because they were older than me, that my elders were always right- I guess I use to be pretty ornery." She kept her eyes on the fire, through the open door of the stove. She could feel his eyes on her, looking with that intensity that both intimidated and intrigued her. "So nobody really bothered to teach me much of anything; hell, I taught myself to tie my own shoes. I'm tougher for it though."

He looked away, chewing at his lips, his tone a little softer now. "My dad use ta call me the most useless son of a bitch that ever lived. Don't mean I don't miss em', now that he's gone. You miss yours?"

"Sometimes." She gave him a strained smile, eager to change the subject. "So what do you say Daryl, ya wanna give me a cooking lesson?"

He gave a dry little chuckle. "Sure." He felt intimidated by the idea of teaching anybody anything, but he pulled through, even with May asking him all kinds of questions that he never even thought about, much less had the answer to. 'Who the hell thinks about the proper technique for stovetop chicken and biscuits?' He kept thinking, but not stating, silently enjoying the attention of being the most knowledgeable one in the room for a change. And when he was able to sit back for a moment during dinner and just watch them actually enjoy his cooking, he felt a rush; like the sun on your face after a long rainy day. And like the sun, he had to turn away after a moment- the heat of the feeling in his chest threatening to consume him.

May decided that the boys room wasn't getting warm enough, and that they should sleep downstairs near the fire. While the boys took turns working the pump for the only blow up bed they had, a brief fight broke out between them about who got to sleep on it. She finally declared that they would share it.

"I'll go get some bedding. You two do not touch that stove, you hear me?"

"Yes, Mama." Came the chorus from the boys.

"Daryl, would you help me bring down some bedding?" He gave a little grunt and nod, and followed her upstairs. He hesitated at the door to her bedroom. This was another one of those situations that he felt was more dangerous than a mountain lion; but May handled with complete nonchalance. He looked around quickly, his arms wrapped fiercely around his chest. It was neat, clean, and lacked all the things he expected in a woman's bedroom; stuffed animals, porcelain figures, and ugly floral wall paper. It even seemed a little on the masculine side. He was looking at an elk antler sitting on a dresser when she shoved a large comforter in his arms. "Here, you take this, I've got some sheets for them."

She shifted a little in her posture, eyes only glancing at his face. He frowned, unsure if he had done something wrong. "Listen, Daryl..." His heart fell into his stomach. Those words never boded well. "I don't feel right, you staying all alone in that cold trailer. I know for a fact you don't have a wood burning stove in there, and the idea of sending you home to a cold metal box seems like the worst kind of hell." She took a deep breath, looking him in his narrowed eyes. "I want you to stay here a couple of days, just until the power comes back on. And I won't take no for an answer." Then she got that look on her face, all steely eyes and set lips.

He shrugged; "Ok." And walked away, hiding the little sliver of a grin on his face.

"That's it? No snarling? No pouting? No acting like I'm giving you a prison sentence?" She followed him out of the room, arms full of badly folded sheets.

"I don't pout- hey! You boys cut it out!" She looked over the rail to see what Daryl was shouting at as he headed down the stairs. The kids were having a wrestling match that was way too close to the fire. It made her feel that much more comfortable with him, the way he always kept at least one eye on what the boys were doing. 'I wonder if he would make a good dad.' The thought flashed through her head, and she pushed it away just as fast. He was a good guy, but no way was he interested in getting adopted into their little household.

"Do I get time off for good behavior?" His question pulled her back out of her own head.

"Maybe. You keep cooking like that and I'll consider it." He looked back up the steps where she walked behind him. She gave him her full smile, all warmth and joy. He was learning to take it, but it was a hard lesson to learn- maybe the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. "You OK with the couch Sugar?"

"Yeah, where you gunna' sleep?"

"I think I'll just pull one of the boy's mattresses down, I should fit ok on it." She sat down on the floor and started to pull a fitted sheet over the blow up mattress.

"I'll do it, you stay here."

She shrugged. "Alright. Just give me a shout if you want help."

In the boy's bedroom he worked his way past toy cars and Legos, making a path with his boot. He couldn't help but let memories of his own less privileged childhood seep in for a moment. But there was no self-pity there, no old childhood jealousy, only hope in a way that he did not understand, and did not ruminate on for long. He got the bed downstairs without issue, helped bring down the last of the bedding, and watched the boys while she lit some candles. He didn't know what to say, in the quiet of it, the soft familiarity that was coming over the four of them. He sat and watched the fire while the kids finished their homework and May folded laundry on the couch.

"Mama, I'm bored and I don't wanna read anymore." It was Hap, of course, unable to sit still for long. They had over an hour before their bedtime and May was starting to feel hard pressed to fill the time.

"Don't you have about a million toys upstairs?"

"I kinda board too Mama, and I'm tired of reading." Alfie piped up in his quiet little voice. She rubbed her hands over her eyes. She had already called in sick to work for Thursday, but the boys still needed to go to school tomorrow, the food in the fridge would probably be all bad...

"Mama!" Hap again, exasperated and feeling a little lost without TV.

"Either a' you boys know how to use a slingshot?" Daryl didn't look up from the fire, but he clearly had the boy's attention. After several minutes of begging she finally relented. He went outside for a smoke, and came back with two small v shaped branches. After more begging, she allowed a short lesson in whittling, then some target practice against the front door with paper cups. It kept them occupied until bedtime. It was rough going, but they finally went to sleep.

May shushed Daryl, then pulled him into the kitchen. "You want a beer?"

"Hell yeah I do, those little shits ran me ragged." His voice was a whisper, and she could barely see his face, but she could tell he was in a good mood. She disappeared to the back porch and returned with two bottles. He took them from her and popped the tops with his keys before handing one back. She drank it in two long pulls, threw the bottle in the trash, and when she burped she dampened the sound with her fist.

"Damn girl, I guess you are country after all." He sipped his, one hand keeping warm under his arm.

"I'ma have another. And there's two more out there if you want one."

"I'm good." He replied with a whisper. She nodded at him, and when she came back he popped the top again for her. She sipped it a little this time, a shiver going through her.

"Cold?"

"Yeah. Like a dumbass I already packed up all our winter stuff. Thickest thing I have is this sweater." It was buttoned up, and she had one hand in her pocket, but was still shivering.

He downed his beer and placed the empty on the counter, taking hers as well. "Here, gimmie your hands." She did, and he wrapped his hands around hers. They were blessedly warm, his palms almost hot to the touch.

"Oh my god Daryl that feels amazing, thank you." He looked down, his head bobbing, and she could have sworn that she saw a hint of a blush. He started to pull away but she pleaded with him. "Please don't stop." He nodded, his hair falling in his eyes again. She decided speaking would be the surest way to make him more comfortable. She took a little step closer, and kept her voice at a whisper. "When I was little, it would get so cold in winter. In the Rockies, the snow falls so thick and so fast that it takes out buildings if you aren't careful..." He loved listening to her talk. It didn't happen often, but now and then they would steal a moment and she would tell him little antidotes about their life before Georgia. Her voice went deep when she told him stories, and she never seemed to falter when she spoke, no matter what she was talking about. Her even tone made him feel meditative, and sometimes he would even talk about himself, as if she had him in a trance.

She shivered again, and he realized the rest of her must still be cold. "Hold up" he whispered, and started to slip off his leather vest and jacket; "take this."

"But then you'll be freezing." She stated flatly, pulling it back on him.

"I'll live." He tried to slip it back off.

"I know, you're a tough guy." She slipped it back over his shoulders. "We can both wear it, if your amiable." He frowned, unclear as to what she meant. She slowly slid her arms around his middle, her cheek pressed against his chest. She could feel his whole frame go stiff and still, his arms at his sides. She looked up at him, her chin on his breast bone. "Is this ok? Just for a little while?" He kept his eyes looking out over her head, but he nodded. "Good, then put your arms around my back. I'm fucking freezing." He picked her beer up, drank it, belched as quietly as he could, and did as he was told; wrapping his unsure arms around her.

'Fuck it... let's just pretend I'm not wrapped around him like ivy and keep this party going.' She mused, before starting to talk again, basking in the warmth his body brought her. She took in his smell; leather, tobacco, Speed stick, and that certain otherness, that maleness, that she missed so much. Through the hard plains of his chest she could hear his heart, racing at a terrified speed. She took deep, vocal breaths while she spoke, moving her chest in and out for him to feel. It was an old trick, one to get babies too quiet down, and it slowly worked. She felt his arms begin to soften around her, and the tick of his heart become less pronounced. 'I always did have a way with wild things' she mused to herself, pleased, as she felt the tips of his fingers fiddling with the end of her long hair.

He tried to focus on her words, but the mantra in his head beat a steady rhythm; 'Don't fuck up, don't fuck up..' He was even too despondent to think about all the ways this situation could go horribly, and irrevocably, wrong. Hugging wasn't exactly in his wheelhouse. His mother had hugged him, on occasion, usually when drunk. Was he supposed to enjoy it? It felt more like sticking a handgun in his mouth. He felt a desperate need to fidget, and his fingers worked their way into her hair, moving of their own volition. He hoped to god she didn't notice, or worse yet comment on it. His head dipped, and he could smell her shampoo again- strawberries, and the light smell of lavender perfume. It took everything he had not to rub his face in it, like a cat making a scent marking. Her breasts were crushed against his torso, and just kept pressing; over and again against him. Even when she finally ended her story, he could still hear her, feel her, breathing against his shirt; her face now burrowed in his jacket. Slowly he let the pressure of her breaths affect his own, the air gently filling him with relief rather than chaos. He fought back a moan, turning it into a shiver, and in turn she starting rubbing at the muscles in his lower back, where the tightness never seemed to go away. It overtook him, the pleasure of the moment. The heat, the smell, the relaxing circles of her fingers; he squeezed her tightly, his arms seemingly acting of their own volition. And before he could even let the fear crawl back up his spine, she had squeezed him back, letting out a little sigh. A sigh that went right from his ears, straight down his dick. And then there was fear- absolute and ancient, that she would feel him stiffen and become repulsed.

She felt him harden against her thigh and she knew it was time to let go; as loath as she was to do so. Men always felt weird about unexpected erections; and knowing Daryl, he would be absolutely horrified by it. She looked up, and there he was, all intense searching eyes and doubt. "Thank you Daryl, that was just what I needed. You are a really good hugger."

"I don't hug. You hugged me. Ya' weirdo." She wrapped herself around him again and squeezed, just once, before letting go, the lack of contact sent shivers of cold through both their bodies.

"Come on, let's go sit closer to the fire. I've got a book I want to finish reading. You want something off my book shelf?"

He shrugged, and went back up to her bedroom. He came down with some comic books, which he had been shocked and pleased to find. He kicked off his boots and sat down next to her on the couch, not quite touching. His heart sank a little when she moved to the other end, but he understood when she burrowed her cold feet under his leg. "Mmmm sweet Daryl warmth." She whispered under her breath.

"Shut up. It's like your made of ice. You have coolant in yur' blood or somethin'?"

She stuck her tongue out at him and he flipped her off. She threw a lap blanket at him, which he curled up under, pulling her calves and feet onto his lap, underneath the cover. After a while he looked up from his reading and noticed she was asleep. He debated what to do, and finally decided that the small mattress on the floor would be much more comfortable than the couch. He reached over slowly, and pulled the blanket off of the small bed. Then, as carefully as he could, scooped her up and laid her down on the tiny mattress. She seemed to wake up a little, saw him, smiled, and feel back asleep. He covered her up and lay down on the couch, facing the little family that had taken him in. 'What am I gunna' do without them, when they finally cut me loose?' He knew it would come, as inevitable as that rain outside. He curled up under the blanket, satisfied that for today at least, he was still in their good graces.