AN: Here we are, another chapter here!
I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!
111
Carol usually worked in the mess hall, though she sometimes picked up shifts at other jobs around the community. As they settled in more and more, she started to think of Woodbury as home. It was a little town, really, and it functioned like a miniature of many towns she'd known in the world before everything had changed.
In the mess hall, Carol often spent most of her time in the back cooking. She felt at home, really, among the pots and pans. She liked making the food, turning found ingredients and produced ingredients, alike, into things for everyone to enjoy. She knew that people liked the food when she cooked, too, and that gave her a feeling of approval that she hadn't known too much in her life, before.
She was also consulted, as one of the main cooks of the community, on her thoughts about expansion and food sources. She didn't have too much to offer, and she often simply agreed with the opinions of those that she felt were more informed about what they should—and, realistically, could—do, but it felt good to her to be asked. Her opinion felt valued. She felt valued.
And that made her happy with her work. That happiness carried over when she would pick up extra little jobs around the mess hall. When they were short, especially, Carol would serve plates. She would stand with Andrea, who very often worked the "front" of the mess hall, and shovel food onto any plates available. She would smile and talk to people. She would help wash the dishes that were piled into tubs by the people who had finished their meals, bus the tables where some left their plates after eating, clearly feeling that they were, somehow, too important to take their own plates back to the tubs, and she would clean up messes and spills when necessary.
Her moments of working up front gave her the opportunity to really come into contact with the members of their community, and what she learned was that, even after the entire world had been turned upside down, torn down, and put back together, people didn't really change very much.
Hershel called them the "Old Hen's Club." The names that Daryl and Merle had for them were less complimentary. Carol had seldom crossed paths with them, always seeming to be cooking when they came through for meals. Andrea, though, assured her that she wouldn't care for the women, if she ever spent much time in their company.
One of them, Carol knew, was an older lady who seemed to disapprove of Sophia's existence in every possible way.
Another—or, perhaps, the very same—had taken some offense to the fact that Merle brought Casper on a leash to sit and eat with him at the tables outside the mess hall. She had taken additional offense when Merle had suggested that the goat was far better company than her and, in his opinion, smelled better.
For at least two days after that, Andrea had asked Merle not to come back to the mess hall. But he'd asserted that he—and Casper, his goat-son—had just as much right to frequent the establishment as anyone else. The next time one of the women had made a disparaging remark about Casper, Merle had walked the goat inside and straight down the serving line to get his food.
Andrea told Carol that he'd said something about taking Casper's diaper off and letting him piss directly on the old biddy's table, and not much had been said about the goat's presence since.
Carol knew that Daryl preferred to try to avoid the mess hall, particularly during times when he knew the old women would be there. He claimed that he wasn't truly bothered by them, but Carol knew that he was. He felt judged by them.
He had heard them say, according to him, that he was a bad daddy and, for Daryl, there was little that anyone could say about him that would actually hurt him worse.
So, when she was working the line because they were short people, and she noticed Daryl tense, standing in front of her, because the women had come to eat apparently somewhat outside of their normal schedule, Carol was interested to finally get a really good look at the woman who, with her unnecessary judgement, made Daryl feel uncomfortable in a place where, arguably, he was responsible for providing a good bit of the food for the people who lived there—including the very same woman who would judge him.
"I'ma take Soph back to the house," he mumbled.
"What? No," Carol said.
Daryl looked over his shoulder.
"I am," he said. "I'ma take her on back to the house. That way she can—you know—run around and all while she eats."
"You're going to sit down at that table right over there," Carol said, "and you and Merle are going to eat. And, then, when Andrea and I finish serving and get our break, we're going to eat with you."
"We gonna take her an' Casper outside," Daryl said.
"It's too cold for her to eat outside," Carol said. "That table is open and it's clean, Daryl."
He glanced over his shoulder again. Then, he looked at Carol. He was judging how serious she was and how big of a fight this might turn into, if he were to go against her. Carol knew that, and she set her face accordingly. For a little extra ammunition on her side, she dropped one hand and purposefully rubbed it over her belly. Their son would be there in a month, at most, but he could make his appearance any time—and Carol might have used that to her benefit, with Daryl, from time to time.
He watched her hand, looked back at her, and visibly swallowed.
"Yeah—alright," he said. "But—I just don't wanna…deal with no shit, you know? She starts showin' out and we're going home."
Carol glanced at their daughter. She'd already been shown which table was their table, and she was carrying cups from the young girl that was making them, handing them to her one at a time, and putting them on the table.
"We're having her favorite bread today," Carol said. "And the deer stew is wonderful. She's going to love it."
"She gets loud, though," Daryl said.
Carol smiled at him.
"You only think she's loud when you're worried that someone else is going to think that," Carol said. "She's just fine for a Dixon." Carol winked at him, and Daryl smiled at her. His cheeks colored slightly, and Carol couldn't help but smile at him. She felt her whole body flood with affection for her husband. "Here, Pookie. Take her tray first. I'll put yours right there for you. We better not hold the line up too long. You know how people can get."
"Damned ornery is how the hell they can get," Merle said. "Move, Brother, 'fore I starve to damned death."
Daryl laughed.
"Love you, Woman," he offered, taking one tray while Carol moved the other to the side for when he returned. He and Merle would settle and eat, probably finishing their meals before Andrea and Carol finished the lunch rush line and had a chance to sit with their own food. It wouldn't matter, though. Daryl and Merle would stay with them as long as they liked, and Sophia was usually pretty easy to entertain when Casper was around.
Carol passed Merle a tray, and exchanged a few words with Andrea who was refilling the serving dishes with food from the back. Carol helped her get everything situated, and then she went back to helping people get their plates, now that the lunch rush was starting to get started, while Andrea finished her back-and-forth trips.
"More bread's coming out the oven soon," Andrea offered.
"Mama!" Sophia called loudly. "Mama!"
Carol glanced over. Sophia was standing in her seat. It wasn't preferable, but it was really the only way that she could effectively eat from the table, given the lack of chairs that were appropriately sized for her. Daryl had pulled her seat as close as possible, and he ate his meal always holding onto Sophia with one hand.
"What is it, Sweetheart?" Carol called out.
"This bread good, Mama! It's good! You did real good, Mama!"
Carol laughed to herself.
"Thank you, Sweetheart," she said. "Eat your stew, too. Daddy got the deer for the stew and Papa Hershel canned those vegetables. Eat your stew, too, OK?"
"OK, Mama! OK!" Sophia called back before returning to her meal.
Carol laughed to herself and served another bowl of soup on the tray that Andrea passed her.
"You only have the one?" The man in front of her asked, smiling.
"Soon to be two," Carol said. "Very soon…I think."
"You oughta know," he said with a laugh. He thanked her for the food and she turned to wait for the next tray that Andrea would present to her.
"It's a shame these children aren't going to know how to act. Nobody teaching them how they ought to behave. And the ones that are determined not to raise them don't stop breeding them…you can see that much."
Carol let her eyes drift toward the voice that had delivered the judgment. Caught up in their conversation—just loud enough to be heard, but just quiet enough to say that they weren't meaning to be heard, if anyone should say something—were a couple of the old biddies coming down the line.
"Such pretty words," Carol said quietly, leaning toward Andrea as the woman arranged bowls on the trays to get them ready.
"Always with opinions," Andrea said. "The other day the same one said that the goat wouldn't be the only barnyard animal around here, if we let the baby act like Merle."
Carol laughed quietly.
"I know it's funny," Andrea said, "but still…"
"No, I know," Carol said. "The one in blue can't stand Sophia."
As if to illustrate her point, Carol overheard that very same woman say something about Sophia's table manners and bring up the fact that she was ungrateful and threw tantrums about the food she was given.
"Give me just a second," Carol said, stepping away. Andrea held up the line, making a moment of conversation with the man who was waiting for his tray. He didn't seem to mind, and he made quick conversation with Andrea about a project he was working on helping with the solar power grids.
Carol thought, briefly, about if she really wanted to do what she planned to do. She didn't think of herself as a bad person—or even a particularly devious person—but some people simply needed to learn lessons, and they needed help in learning those lessons, since they were unlikely to come to knowledge and understanding on their own. She pocketed her prize, went back to the line, put on the brightest smile she could, and thanked the man for the work he was doing to keep them all basking in the creature comforts provided by the solar power. She served his stew, offered him an additional piece of bread as a thanks for being so pleasant and so patient, and she sent him on his way.
Two other people passed through the line before the woman in blue was next. Carol had already spooned up several bowls of stew, and she was careful to make sure that her special treat went only to the woman in blue and, hopefully, went unnoticed by anyone else.
When the woman and her friends came through the line, they had nothing to really say to Andrea and Carol. Carol noticed that the woman very obviously took her in, focusing mostly on the swell of her belly. She was accustomed to that—many people stared at her and Andrea both, especially since children still weren't all that common—but she couldn't help but notice that there was something else to the woman's glance that wasn't the normal expression that people wore.
"Have a nice day," Carol said, flooding her voice with as many honeyed tones as possible.
She turned back to her work, greeting each person in line and passing over filled trays. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she paid some attention to the woman and her friends as they got their drinks and settled at the table that they laid claim to.
She saw, then, when the lady in blue spit out the stew she'd been served. She heard, too, the same as everyone else in the mess hall, when the woman loudly declared how awful it was and began to complain to her companions.
"Excuse me a moment," Carol said to the person in front of her. She walked around and went directly to the woman's table. "Is there something wrong?" She asked.
"This is horrible!" The woman declared. "I can't believe this is what you're serving to everyone!"
"Eat it anyway," Carol offered, smiling and keeping her voice as pleasant and even as she possibly could.
"I beg your pardon?" The woman asked.
Carol smiled at her again.
"I said…eat it anyway," Carol said, annunciating her words. "It's only good manners to eat what you're given, right? And to be grateful for it. Oh—and you really shouldn't complain. That's rude."
"This tastes like a salt lick!" The woman declared.
"Oh," Carol said. "So—does that mean you don't want to eat it?"
"Of course, I'm not going to eat this!" The woman said.
"Then—would you say it's appropriate for someone to hit you until you do?" Carol asked.
"I can think of volunteers," Andrea offered, loudly, from her place at the serving line.
Carol laughed quietly when she heard the whooping of a few people—some of which, she was sure, were related to her, at least by marriage.
"Are you threatening me?" The woman asked.
"No," Carol said, softening. "But—I thought you might benefit from a slightly different perspective, since you think that children ought to be spanked for the very same thing. You don't have to agree with how we raise our children, but…Dixons don't spank their children for having feelings. Not us. We have our reasons, but…we don't really believe in spanking."
"Speak for yourself, Mouse," Merle called out. "I spank Andrea any damn time she asks for it!"
Carol saw the expression on the old woman's face, and she laughed, turning back to finish handing out food to the people in line—all of them somehow trusting that their food, like nearly every other bowl that had already been served, wouldn't be too salty to eat.