This chapter skips ahead some. Just a warning. This entire story will skip months and years and such, just for fun.
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Milton's Historical Logs #272
Saturday, November 28, 2015
Born this morning at approximately 8:13 to Carol and Daryl Dixon one female child, both mother and child came out of it healthy. 8 pounds, 2 ounces, 19 inches. Named Scout Rose Dixon. (Personal note of Milton Mamet, author of this log: the little girl is amazingly beautiful and grabbed my finger! I don't think infants that young possess the motor skills to accomplish that.) Carol asked Grace to name the little girl, since neither Daryl nor herself could come up with one that seemed appropriate. I believe Grace named her after the child in Harper Lee's novel, which she claimed had been her favourite since childhood.
Since returning from Atlanta, I've made note that our supplies are ample enough to last us through the winter and into the spring, thankfully the team managed to find dry goods enough to keep and preserves enough to last, but I feel the need at this point to add that Carl is planning another trip into the city before Christmas comes in the hopes of securing enough for us for future seasons before people get plundering in the city.
The group called a meeting two days ago, wanting to elect a leader, with Rick still weak and keeping his head down, the Alpha females are calling for the leader to be Andrea or Carol, the nuns (former?) are calling for it to be Grace, the only woman who really wants to lead is Andrea, but she doesn't have the support like Carol and Grace do. The Alpha males have chosen to remain quiet about the leadership, no one wants the position, therefore no one is volunteering to nominate or be nominated.
With winter in full swing here, we've been dealing with colds mostly, but Herschel and St. James are worried about influenza. We've been told to prepare for a hard winter.
Current population: 33
Current forecast: 47º, Overcast
Current mood: Elated (She's a really beautiful little girl!)
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**Daryl**
He really didn't know what to do.
Beside him Carol dozed in the infirmary cot, her face tranquil and beautiful, in a crib nearby lay his little girl, also sleeping off the events of her early morning venture into the world.
He kept getting up and pacing, checking the place for imaginary threats, eyeing everyone who entered with new, suspicious eyes.
Then he would go to the crib, check in on the little girl, his hands itching to hold her again.
He should have never let Herschel put her down for a nap in the first place, he should have held on to her.
He'd hold on to her forever if he had to, just let her ride around on his shoulders where she'd be safest.
This wasn't like a first car or a first home, this was the same, but different. Completely different.
But the same.
He couldn't describe it.
That little girl in that crib was his, he helped make her and she had his blood in her veins.
There was no real way to describe his feeling.
His heart felt like it was going to collapse in on itself and go supernova, but he also felt calm and at peace.
But he also wanted to keep everyone from even touching his daughter.
His daughter.
He never thought he'd have one of those.
"Here, darling," Adele said softly from his side, holding out a jug of cold water purified with that contraption of Milton's. "For Carol."
Daryl took it with a bow of his head in gratitude.
"Anything for your beloved brother?" Fay asked from the cot beside Carol's where he and his girls were allowed to linger, his hands busy making paper cranes as Annie and Olivia quietly coloured in a book at his side.
"Besides a slap?" Adele teased, moving to pinch her brother's arm.
"Oo ye yi!" Fay grumbled gently so as not to wake mother or child. "Possede."
"He's not bothering you, is he?" Adele asked Daryl. "Because I can ship him off to the mines if you want."
Daryl shook his head. He liked the backup help in watching over his girls, it comforted him to know Fay (and Merle who was lingering just outside) were there to keep an eye out for his family.
After Adele left, Daryl turned his eyes back on his daughter, watching as she twitched in her sleep, big blue eyes scrunched up, face red from screaming at the world when she entered.
Thinking of how she entered the world, he actually prayed to God that she would leave more peacefully a long, long time from now. He hoped she had a happy, full life.
Suddenly it struck him how hard Carol must have taken Sophia's death. Her screaming and throwing herself irrationally towards her little girl's shuffling form suddenly made sense to him.
He wouldn't let that happen to his girl, his Scout.
He scoffed at the name. He liked it. It came out of nowhere, the book Grace mentioned was familiar to him, but he never read it when they were forced to in school. He took off during those classes, stole some candy and a bottle of root beer from Shady's Shack and went fishing in the creek, the book left in his locker to rot.
Maybe he'd read it now, since winter seemed to have slowed down any of their chores, Grace said she had a copy somewhere on her bookshelf in her office.
"Fay?" He asked softly over Carol's form, hand moving to brush against hers.
"Hn?"
"You ever read that book, you know, the one Grace named Scout after?" He asked.
"To Kill A Mockingbird? Sure, had to in grade school."
"What's it about?"
"Little girl and her brother growing up in dark times, somehow clinging to her innocence, observing everything through a child's eyes and with the guiding wisdom of a strong, patient father."
"That little girl? That's Scout?"
"Yep."
"What kind of dark times?"
"Alabama, during the times of segregation and racism. The story goes that a man named Tom…Tom…Robertson? Something like that. And he's on trial see, for raping a white girl and Scout's daddy is set to defend him in court. The story is told through her eyes."
"Is it good?"
"I liked it. It was a good story, important, I think."
"Scout," Daryl murmured, getting up and checking on his girl, pacing the floor again, checking the windows and door. "She a good girl? This Scout?"
"Yep, little tomboy though, like to beat up the boys when she got riled."
Daryl scoffed.
"Figure that girl is named right," Fay went on, "if she gets her daddy's temper."
"Am I named right?" Annie demanded.
Daryl and the Lieutenant exchanged an amused look. Both men knowing that there was no way Fay would know for sure if the girl was named right or not.
Daryl knew the Cajun would fake it.
Sure enough, Fay smirked and said, "of course, you're named after Annie Edson Taylor."
"Who?"
"The first person who survived going over Niagra Falls in a barrel."
Annie pulled a face as Daryl moved back to the crib where his little girl slept. He watched her quietly, putting her face to memory.
"What about me?" Olivia demanded.
"Olivia de Havilland."
"Who's that?"
"Whatever happens, I'll love you just as I do now until I die," Fay quoted in a squeaky girl's voice.
Both little girls muffled their giggles behind their hands at their daddy.
"I love Gone With the Wind," Carol murmured from the bed, prompting Daryl to race to her side.
He flung himself down in the chair, just as Fay swept the girls to their feet with a grin at Daryl. He paused by Carol's bed, leaning down to kiss her forehead and murmur. "She's a beautiful girl, ange. Perfect little doll."
Carol smiled up at him catching his wrist to stay his exit. "I knew she would be."
Fay beamed. "Amazing little girl. Petit jolie."
"You sound like you're smitten, Lieutenant," she teased.
"Hopelessly," the man replied, straightening up and smoothing Carol's hair off her forehead. "She's the luckiest little girl in the world, I think."
"She won't want for love or family," Carol said. "That's for sure."
"We're lucky too, daddy!" Annie declared loudly.
"You two are going to be tossed into a sack and hung over a fire if you don't get back to the dorms and get your homework done," the Lieutenant teased as the three of them left Daryl and Carol in peace.
Daryl offered his girl a small grin after a moment. "You okay?"
"I'm fine, tired though."
"Sorry, we didn't mean to—"
"You didn't," she cut him off. "How is she?"
"Still sleeping."
"Come up here with me," she urged with a small grin.
He tried to smoothly ease onto the bed at her side, but his pant leg got caught against the old crank on the bed and he fumbled, before flopping gracelessly at her side.
He offered her a sheepish wince, which earned a laugh from his girl.
"Smooth," she teased.
Moving in close to her, he nuzzled at the side of her neck and wrapped his arm around her. "Never mind your lip, girl," he growled in her ear.
She beamed and squirmed in his arms.
"Remember when Milton stepped in some of the birth goo and almost fell on his ass?" He asked her after a moment.
She laughed. "I don't remember much, I was kind of busy. Poor Milton."
"I don't think he's seen a woman's underparts in a while," Daryl went on. "He turned a pretty bright shade of red."
"Well, it wasn't a dance party for me neither," she admitted.
Turning over so that he was lying at her side on his back, he kept one foot on the floor to prevent himself from falling off the narrow bed, the other twining with hers.
After a few seconds he got up again and moved to the crib to peer down at his daughter, still amazed that she was his.
Behind him Carol adjusted her position in the bed and said, "so? What do we do now?"
He laughed softly. "I don't know. Never planned for this."
"Me neither," she admitted. "Not for another one. I was still kind of in denial over the fact that I was having another baby at my age. A girl is a nice surprise though, I think."
He turned around. That was one thing he was worried about, Carol having another girl, but she seemed to be okay with it. Her eyes were bright and shining, her face tranquil.
"What did Grace name her again? I was kind of out of it," she asked.
"Scout, Scout Rose Dixon," he answered almost shyly. It was strange for him to call her a Dixon, he assumed he would soon come to terms with the girl being his own flesh and blood.
"Oh, yes," Carol chuckled. "Scout."
"You like it?" He asked.
She nodded. "It's…somehow fitting, I guess. Figures Grace would be a Harper Lee fan."
Daryl immediately straightened at the sounds of mewling coming from the crib behind him and turned to find his little girl squirming, slowly waking, her plump, pink lips mashing together into a duck beak as her pudgy cheeks seemed to push them out.
God, she was so beautiful.
"Here," Carol said almost excitedly, "bring her here. She's probably hungry."
Gingerly he reached into the crib and picked up his girl just as Mrs. Douglas showed him, smiling at the warm, tiny, pudgy girl. He remembered holding Judith, but this was different. This time the baby girl was his and she was amazing. She would grow up to be amazing.
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vickih - My friend, I wouldn't post replies here if they weren't open for discussion. A purple zapper in the snapper was my least classy, but favourite thing I've said in a long time.
Claire Randal Fraser - Oh, knowing baby boy Merle Dixon, he probably shot off at the mouth.
auntheddy - Big Momma Thornton, actually. Most of these chapter titles are from the GD&S soundtrack on youtube.
Yazzy x - Daryl is such a softie deep down that all Grace had to do was ask. ^_^
Surplus Imagination - No Armageddon...yet. ^_^