AN: Here we go, another little chapter here.
For those who like to know how much more to expect, this story is coming to a close very soon. We have just a couple more chapters and one of them is an epilogue. It's almost time to bid farewell to this little family.
I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!
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As far as Carol could see, everything about her life was going even better than she could have designed it to be if she'd been putting the pieces into place one by one. She couldn't remember if she'd ever been happier in her life. Even the arrival of Andrea and Merle's bouncing baby boy, something she knew would have normally thrown her into a spiral of feeling sorry for herself and of grieving the family that she didn't have, the one she feared that she didn't deserve, wasn't enough to detract from the way that she felt.
Even the remarks she heard here and there around town, especially now that Pru had done her best to make sure that every single soul within a hundred mile radius knew the circumstance surrounding Sophia's birth, or rather that they knew the circumstances that she made up, because what she told wasn't exactly the truth, but Carol never bothered to correct anyone's gossip…even those weren't enough to cast a shadow over how she felt about things.
Because she did have a family.
She had Daryl and she had Sophia. And even though Carol might have never realized that the baby she'd longed for all through her marriage with Daryl would come to her in the form of a fourteen year old girl, she knew now that she was content with the fact that things had happened that way.
Because every day Carol loved Sophia more, and she felt more loved by the girl. And every time that she thought that the human heart simply wasn't capable of expanding to allow for anything more? It seemed more than willing to accommodate her feelings and stretch far beyond what she'd supposed its limits might be.
Sophia, to Carol, seemed to be doing quite well too. She was settling in at school, and even though she wasn't known for being too "social" and she didn't really care for too much interaction with the other children, she didn't seem to be having too much trouble. At least, she wasn't have much that she reported. Daryl took her every morning on his way to work and now she rode the bus home, of her own request, every afternoon. She spent her afternoons just after school sewing with Carol, since Sophia had learned that she had an affinity for the act and especially enjoyed trying out the newest patterns that Carol got, usually ones she hadn't even tried herself yet, and then Sophia would retire to her room to do her homework while Carol got things ready for their dinner and would emerge in time for dinner with Daryl when he got home.
Things couldn't be going better, honestly.
So naturally, Carol was concerned when Sophia came home from school one day, said that she had a lot of homework to do, and asked to be excused to her room until dinner time instead of spending her customary time working at one of Carol's old sewing machines that she'd claimed for her own in one part of the sewing room.
But Carol didn't press the girl, even though she was concerned. Sophia was fourteen and she'd be fifteen soon given that the days seemed to pass faster now than they'd ever gone before. There were times, Carol knew, that a young woman like Sophia might simply want to be alone with her thoughts…and Carol wasn't going to be one to refuse her that time or that privacy when the need arose.
So long as it didn't arise too often, of course, without explanation.
Deciding, though, that the girl might be in need of some kind of "encouragement" or maybe just a little something to put a smile on her face, Carol put aside the projects that she was working on to finish later and turned her attention to finishing up a few garments that were specifically for Sophia.
She hoped a surprise might perk Sophia up from whatever it was that might be bothering her. Or, at the very least, it might lead her to feel warm enough to share whatever it might be with Carol at some point.
Carol wrapped the garments up quickly enough, two pair of pants that Sophia had picked out, both a little different from the one pair that Sophia had already finished for herself, Sophia having done most the work herself on both of those as well, and a blouse that she'd almost finished except for some trouble she'd had in the final stages that was easy enough for Carol to work out. She stole time, while putting together dinner, to press the clothes so that they would be attractive for the presentation she hoped to make to Sophia.
Daryl was walked in the door while Carol was still putting the finishing touches on getting the meal ready to go to the table. She heard him go about his normal routine of "leaving his day at the door" and then he came to where she was, tickling her side lightly with his fingertips as a way of requesting his "welcome home" kiss. Carol obliged him and he smiled as a mirror to the one that she offered him.
But then he furrowed his brow.
"Table ain't set," he commented. "You want me to set it?"
Carol hated to have him set the table right after he'd walked in the door from work, but it looked like he wasn't going to wait for her response at any rate. He went about gathering the plates and utensils for the table.
"Where's Soph? She ain't sick, is she?" Daryl asked.
"No," Carol said. "Or…she didn't look sick. She said she had a lot of homework and she wanted to get it done."
Daryl snorted.
"But you sound like you don't believe it," he said.
"Because I don't," Carol offered quietly.
She started to take things to the table, almost running into him in her efforts. She and Sophia had the setting of the table worked out, by now, to a dance that was almost choreographed just for the two of them. It was difficult now to figure Daryl into the equation.
"What's wrong with her?" Daryl asked.
"I don't know," Carol offered honestly. "I'm hoping it's just…a mood maybe? I hope it's nothing more than that."
And she abandoned the conversation then to go and tap at Sophia's door, calling the girl to come to dinner as it was on the table and would get cold soon.
By the time Carol made it to her seat and sat to begin passing Daryl the plates that he would serve from the serving dishes in the middle of the table, Sophia had quietly appeared and taken her seat. Carol could tell immediately, just from the posture of the girl, that something was weighing on her.
"Sophia," Carol offered. "Sweetheart? What's wrong?"
Sophia shook her head.
Carol glanced at Daryl. He was looking to her for an answer to this. He was looking at her to have the solution. She decided to go with the only thing she had at the moment.
"Sophia," Carol offered, passing a plate over to Sophia who accepted it with the expected "thank you". "I finished your pants for you, and that blouse? The paisley one?"
Another soft thank you from Sophia and then she finally made full on contact.
"With all due respect," she offered, unmistakably bothered by something given her return to the language that they'd almost erased from her vocabulary, "but I'd rather not have the pants."
"I thought you loved them pants?" Daryl asked quickly, putting into words exactly what Carol was thinking. She'd made herself two pair of pants in the hope of promoting them, by wearing them, to the ladies that often bought from her. Sophia had been so enamored of the garments that she'd made her own pair and Carol had almost felt she needed to put limitations on how often she could wear them or Sophia would never allow them to even be cleaned for trying to wear them daily.
Sophia shook her head softly.
"Ladies don't wear pants," Sophia said. "Only boys wear pants and women who don't know their place."
Carol was concerned at the fact that this sounded like something recited. It sounded like something memorized from somewhere and recited back, just the same as any other lesson that might be taught for memorization. But Daryl simply snorted at the assertion.
"Ya Ma wears pants," he said. "She's 'bout the biggest lady I know. And…hell…she knows her place good as any. You ain't been visitin' ya Uncle Merle?"
Sophia frowned.
"Who told you that?" Carol asked.
"Arty Wellington said…" Sophia started, but Daryl cut her off.
"Arty Wellington? As in Arthur Wellington?" He asked.
Sophia stared at him and then nodded. Daryl chuckled.
"Pay him less damn attention than ya pay Merle," Daryl commented. He filled his mouth with food and held Sophia in suspense, pointing at her with his fork so that she knew he intended to speak to her again as soon as he'd finished chewing over his food and his thoughts. "Arthur Wellington is…you know who he is?"
Sophia shrugged. He was Arthur Wellington, that's probably all that Sophia knew about him.
"He's Pru an' Walter Wellington's boy," Daryl said. "One of 'em…how many they got?"
Carol realized that question was directed at her. She shrugged in response to it the same that Sophia had.
"Two boys? Three…I think some of the kids are girls," she said. "I don't know."
"Don't matter no way," Daryl said. "Don't'cha listen to a thing that boy says, Sophia. His Mama runs her mouth so hard that if they could figure out how to harness that horse power she'd run over half the cars in the nation. He comes by it honest. Probably…you ain't paid him no attention, ain't talked to him like he wanted or somethin', an' he figures you should, so he's tryin' to get your attention however he can."
Sophia furrowed her brows at Daryl, her whole face folding into the scowl.
"Well that doesn't make any sense!" She protested. "Why would you be mean to someone if you wanted them to talk to you?"
Carol watched back and forth between the two of them, amused slightly at the fact that Daryl had decided, now that he knew who the culprit was, that he was going to handle the entire thing himself.
He laughed at Sophia's exclamation and shook his head.
"Don't make no sense," he commented. "But that's just how it is most the time. She don't like me, but I like her…an' I don't know what to do about it an' my parents ain't said this is what'cha do about it…so I'ma give her a hard time. And there ya go. You pay him attention. Bad attention, good attention…at your age, attention's attention."
Sophia's scowl didn't let up.
"Did you do that to Mama?" She asked, her voice taking on a tone that almost sounded like she might send Daryl to bed without the rest of his supper.
Daryl glanced at Carol and laughed. She couldn't help but laugh in return simply because of the expression he was making and the fact that, even at the false scolding, color had risen in his face.
"Nah," he said. "I never did nothing like that to ya Ma. I was smart enough to know that…well, like you…she woudn'ta took kindly to it. But, I'm sorry to say, I did it some people. Followed right along in Merle's footsteps and he was bad about that kinda thing."
"I'm not surprised," Sophia muttered, finally deciding to start eating her dinner with something that looked like a heavy pout.
"Point is," Daryl said. "You wanna wear ya pants, wear ya pants. Let him run his mouth. Let everyone run their mouths. They're gonna do it anyway. At least you're wearin' pants you like while they doin' it."
"He called me a love child," Sophia said with an added tone of insult and injury. "I hate it…I hate when he says it."
Carol sucked in a breath and took that one. Daryl seemed willing to hand it over when he glanced at her and she nodded her head slightly at him.
"Sophia," Carol said. "I'm sorry…because it's my fault that people call you that. And there's nothing that I can do to take that away."
"Ain't your fault," Daryl commented abruptly.
"But," Carol said, ignoring him, "you have to be the one to decide that you're not letting it bother you. I can't take it away from you…so you have to decide that you're just going to ignore what they say. We all have to learn, sometimes, to ignore what people say."
"Because they gonna say it anyway," Daryl said, his mouth full. He was the only one who was undeterred from eating during the discussion.
Carol nodded at his sentiment, though.
"They are," she said. "And they'll say things about me…and you…and your Daddy. They're going to say things about everyone. People…when they get bored? When they don't have anything really nice in their lives? They worry about other people's lives."
Daryl chuckled.
"It's what's wrong with everyone," Daryl said. "I don't worry about nobody but me and mine and I'm happier for it. You're a love child, I reckon, Soph. You're a child…people love you. Makes perfect sense."
Carol smiled at the sentiment of it.
"I think that's a perfect way of explaining it," she said, nodding her head at Sophia and hoping that maybe the knowledge, something they tried very hard to give to her on a daily basis, that she was loved as much as any child ever could be, might be enough to sooth Sophia's hurt feelings over the teasing that she was enduring, and probably hadn't seen the end of.
Life could be hard, and people could be cruel. Everyone learned that lesson at different times and in different ways, but unfortunately it was something that few were able to ever escape learning.
"That's not what it means," Sophia countered.
Daryl raised his eyebrows at her in response.
"And? How do you know that's not what it means?" He asked.
"That's not what Arty means when he says it and gets other people to call me that," Sophia said.
"Well, maybe it's him don't know what it means," Daryl commented.