Due to so many reviews on that last chapter, I'm going to do a mass THANK YOU and say YOU'RE ALL BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE! (skittletitz, you're a lovely person. Honestly, so kind and wonderful, your support has been just phenomenal)
That being said, I can't wait for this story to end so that I can get back to just reading fanfiction...I'm missing out on what looks like a ton of good ones.
Chapter Forty-Four: Bele
**Carol**
By the time she managed to get herself back into the storage shed for a good night's rest, Daryl and Judith were both fast asleep.
The hunter's hand was resting protectively on Judith's back, to keep the baby safely on top of him, his back wedged in the little corner of the bed where the cot had been pushed against the wall.
Judith had been wrapped in a soft blanket that was brought back from the prison for her, her little head tucked just under Daryl's scruffy chin, where she looked so content to be.
Smiling at the two of them, Carol carefully perched on the end of the bed to remove her boots.
By the time she crawled in to join them, Daryl was awake, eyeing her quietly.
"Sorry," she whispered, afraid she had woken him from much needed sleep.
He shrugged. "Wasn't sleeping too deep anyways, didn't want to crush her."
Sliding up beside him tentatively, Carol managed to get an arm around the man's middle, just under Judith's covered feet.
"You could always put her in her crib," she said, speaking of the corrugated plastic box they found for her.
"Too cold tonight, wouldn't want her to get sick," he stated.
"I'm beginning to think she may grow up spoiled," Carol teased.
"Not spoiling her," he argued almost petulantly.
Laughing, she nodded. "Okay."
"Maybe a little," he admitted after a moment.
She scoffed at his sheepish delivery, which had him snorting. They both chuckled in unison.
Nuzzling in, Carol pressed her nose into the side of Daryl's neck, just beside Judith's little face and sighed at the warmth he put out and the sweet scent the baby seemed to exude. Daryl was like a space heater, only rougher and more prone to grumpy outbursts and nervous withdrawals from touch and Judith was like a little air freshener, smelling like baby powder and innocence.
"Think Rick would notice if we kept her?" Daryl asked suddenly.
"I think he might."
..-~-..
..-~-..
She was helping Grace trim the peach tree the next morning, keeping one eye on her task and the other on Annie and her dog who were playing nearby, with Carl not too much further away.
If they didn't keep the branches well maintained a good wind could split the bigger limbs off the poor thing and kill the tree, ending their fresh fruit supply come fall.
The other women were scattered about, either on the wall, walking the grounds or sitting around the campfire mending clothes and chatting. Rick and Daryl had gone off again on a supply run with Glenn and Maggie, looking for more ammo for their ambush, while Merle and the Lieutenant had gone out hunting for something for dinner.
Gripping a bundle of dry, dead branches, she hauled them over to the fire, dropping them in a spot for the kindling and smiling at Andrea who had hobbled out from the infirmary to sit with the others.
"I feel kind of useless sitting here while you work," the blonde said.
Shrugging, Carol set her hand on Andrea's shoulder. "Don't feel useless, you're healing up and that's all you need to worry about doing right now."
Walking back over to the peach tree, Carol hurried to give Grace some support as the woman nearly fell backwards out of the tree as she grappled to climb high enough to cut the branches.
The convent had a ladder (granted it was only a four foot thing), but on the uneven ground beneath the tree, where the roots pushed the earth up in turbulent waves of grass and soil, they decided not to trust it.
Seemed the ladder was a safer choice in the long run.
Setting her feet on firm ground, the former nun sighed, eyeing the tree with an almost stern look.
"Stubborn flora," she stated.
"How'd you trim it before?" Carol asked.
"Well, we'd call up a lovely man from the town nearby and he'd come over with a cherry picker and trim it up for us."
"I guess that option is out of the question then."
"Unless he's survived and has nothing more pressing to do with his time," the woman added with a small grin.
Carol beamed at her unexpected sarcasm, still eyeing the tree.
"What if we harnessed ourselves somehow to get up there?"
"I don't know about you, honey, but I'm forty-five and even in my prime I wasn't the spriest thing this side of the Mississippi."
"Can't argue that."
"I never thought I'd ever be so ungrateful, but times like these make me wish God had chosen to make me just a wee bit taller," Grace said.
"I can do it," Michonne purred from behind them.
The two women turned to find Michonne standing there eyeing the tree.
"Are you sure?"
"Tree needs trimming, I've got nothing better to be doing right now," she said.
"Well, just be careful and harness yourself every couple of feet up." Carol said.
"Get me some rope."
..-~-..
..-~-..
Eyeing the woman high in the tree, Carol held onto her wooden rose tightly, her heart in her throat.
"That woman," Grace muttered from beside her. "Is a Godsend."
"Let's just hope she's as nimble as a cat up there," Carol added.
"Head's up," Michonne called out, dropping a large piece of tree limb onto the ground.
"Christ," Merle grunted sidling up beside them, "if she was wearing a skirt I'd see right up it."
"Wicked man," Grace scolded. "Mind the blasphemy."
Chuckling, Merle handed her a skinned, cleaned dead creature of some kind. "Don't ask what it is, you might actually be able to enjoy your dinner tonight." He pointed out.
On the other side of him the Lieutenant held up a dead, skinned creature of his own proudly, grinning like a little boy.
"Mmm possum," the woman said, taking the creature without a care for the blood, "my granddaddy's favourite."
Carol laughed and took the other creature from the Lieutenant.
"Keep an eye on Michonne, would you?" She suggested to Merle.
"With your permission? Not a problem at all," he replied.
A branch came down, nearly taking him out.
Leaping back, Merle eyed the woman in the tree who glowered down at him.
"Watch out below," she said dryly.
"Try to keep the peace, Lafayette," Grace suggested.
The Lieutenant smiled broadly at her. "It's what I do best, bele."
"Um-hm, don't think I don't know what that means, you wicked Cajun wolf," Grace muttered on her way past.
The tall Cajun shifted sheepishly on his feet and nodded at Carol who passed him by.
She gave him a wide grin as he leaned in close to her.
"If she really knew that that meant she wouldn't be so happy about it," he whispered wickedly.
Giving him a playful warning look, Carol continued on, following Grace into the dorms with the meat for their night's meal.
..-~-..
..-~-..
Inside the kitchens, she laid the creature out on the counter top, moving across the room for a good sharp knife.
"Carol?" Grace asked, setting about getting the fire in the wood stove going.
"Hn?"
"Did you happen to hear my conversation with Rick last night?"
"A bit of it."
Turning away from her task long enough to cast a scrutinizing look in her direction, Grace tilted her head. "Enough?"
"Enough."
"Do you think it's a poor decision on my part?"
Carol gripped the knife and the sharpener tightly, sliding the blade over the delicately textured metal pole. "I can't blame you for wanting to sacrifice yourself."
"Would you do it?"
"If I loved him enough? Yes."
"Would you do it for Daryl?"
Pausing in her work, Carol turned to study the woman who continued to stand by the oven, her face stone serious.
"I wouldn't hesitate."
Grace offered her a small grin. "Of course, you and Daryl have a vastly different relationship then me and the Lieutenant."
"How so?"
"Well, you love Daryl."
"Don't you love the Lieutenant?"
"Not in the secular sense, no, I embrace him as a good man."
"Of course." She must have pulled a doubtful face, because Grace was suddenly stilling, calming the emotions from her face.
"You don't sound convinced." The former nun said.
"I'm not sure it's my place to judge your words. If you say you don't love him then you don't."
"Honey, I may not be a truly devout nun anymore, but I'm still not in the market for a man."
"Even if he's tall and charming?"
"That rogue? Don't encourage the wicked imp in him." She paused, almost thoughtfully. "He is handsome, though, isn't he?"
Carol's eyebrows hit her hairline in shock.
Grace chuckled. "I may be a former nun, Carol, but deep down I'm still a woman. Think I wouldn't notice his aesthetics?"
Unable to believe the woman, Carol snorted in amusement, before laughing at the face the woman made as she fanned herself playfully.
The two women broke out into loud laughter together, before Carl entered the kitchen followed by Annie and her dog, ending the laughter.
Calming, Carol returned to her task.
"Everything okay here?" Carl asked.
"Yes, thank you." Grace returned simply, striking a match to light the fire with.
"Need any help with anything?" The young man asked.
"Aside from you keeping an eye on Annie, nothing at all, honey." Grace said. "I'm very grateful for you watching over her so closely."
Carl nodded. "Just making sure she stays safe."
"You're a wonderful young man," Grace went on.
Nodding, Carl touched the 9mm at his hip and headed back out the way he came, Annie and Boo quietly behind him.
"I think that poor girl has a little crush on him," Carol pointed out.
Sighing dramatically, Grace stood up from the oven and brushed her hands off. "And here my dreams of her taking vows are gone."
Slowing in her work, Carol set the knife down. "Would you still recommend others to take vows?"
"Just because I've lost my faith, doesn't mean I won't encourage others to find theirs. I haven't fallen out with the religion, only the ideals man has for it."
"How did you become a Catholic? May I ask? Daryl tells me that the Lieutenant said you were raised a Baptist?"
"When my daddy died, my mother went back to her parent's religion in order to cope. I converted to Catholicism at the age of fourteen. It seemed to suit me at the time."
"But…?"
"But lately I feel like maybe a good Baptist woman is needed to survive this world."
"Is there a difference?"
Moving close to help Carol cut the meat into pieces for the evening meal, the woman smiled serenely. "Well, Baptist women are loud and brash and we don't take guff from anyone. Catholic women tend to feel guilty about everything."
"Sounds like you may have been Baptist the whole time."
Laughing lyrically, Grace set a hand on Carol's forearm. "Perhaps. I guess, in the end, I just wanted to help people. But what I didn't know when I joined the order, was that you can't choose to go to missions in Africa or South America where they need you, but that the diocese sends you where they want. I suppose I never got to be anywhere where I could help, truly help people."
Carol eyed the woman quietly. "What do you think you're doing now?"
"Surviving."
"If it wasn't for you or the Lieutenant we'd probably be dead or scattered to the winds. You have to know just how much we appreciate your kindness."
Grace nodded.
"And I know - despite the fact you threatened it - that you'd never kick us out. Ever."
The woman stilled in her work.
"You're not like that." Carol went on.
"It was the only card I could play." Grace admitted softly.
"Anything for love."
Grace nodded again, it was almost imperceptible.
Inhaling, Carol nodded with her. "You know, I think we severely underestimate the Lieutenant. I mean from the sounds of it, he survived alone for a few weeks without his unit to back him. He has to be more skilled than we'll ever know, to survive as he has."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying, I think you should let him go. I think you need to trust that he won't just give up and lay down and die. Besides, he has a lot to come home to. You just need to give him something worth fighting for."
"Is that what you do for Daryl?"
"Daryl never needed a reason to fight. He's been fighting his whole life. What I like to think I give him is a respite from fighting, a place where he can let his fists heal and find peace enough to rest his head."
Grace was silent, pondering her words for the longest time, before speaking, "what do you think I'd need to give Lafayette?"
"Whatever it takes to bring him safely home to you."
The Cajun Dialect
Bele – girlfriend or sweetheart. The adjective is beautiful or pretty. It's actually the more intimate of endearments.