A/N Thank you all so much. Let's see how things are going on the mountain.
I Ain't Mad
Her eyes remain closed but she's not sleeping, and she hears his little remark about Jack. Even in his orneriness he can be so funny. She wonders if he intends to be.
While listening to him puttering in the kitchen, Beth reflects on this man who rescued her. Daryl Dixon can be so gruff and crabby, abrupt and short-tempered, it's hard to recognize anything else about him. Still, after a bit of a rocky start she's become aware that buried deep beneath his bristly facade there's some warmth and kindness. After all, she's felt his protectiveness and his caring way, although she suspects he would never want anyone to point out those things about him. It doesn't make any difference what he wants though, because no matter how hard he tries to hide it, sometimes the soft side of him shows itself.
She's relieved and grateful that he's a good man, there are some out there who aren't so good, and she is, after all, 100% at his mercy. Although he's been gruff and his words are often harsh, he hasn't taken advantage of her weakened state, and he so easily could have. Instead, he's given her his bed, doctored her, made sure she eats. What more could she possibly ask of him?
While holding onto Jack and pretending to be asleep, she focuses on those positive things about Daryl. She's quite sure he's smarter than he knows he is, maybe clever is the word. And she's seen his handiwork, my gosh, it's clear this rustic little cabin was built with lots of love and skill, and it's so homey.
She'll also admit to the fact the man is very handsome. That thought almost has her laughing out loud because she's sure if she said that he would cringe, he'd probably even be angry that she would dare to think that about him.
Although she tries not to think about them, there are some other things about Daryl that are just…they're just…hmm. Okay, well there's no use pretending that body of his isn't something kind of special. There's the ripped muscles and those mile wide shoulders, and his slim waist and narrow hips are like icing on a perfectly baked cake. Yeah, okay, she'll admit it to herself, when it comes to looks and build, Daryl's the total package.
Not that she's one bit interested in the mountain man for anything but helping her heal and get out of here. No way, not at all. He couldn't be further from her type. In fact, it's all she can do to tolerate him and be polite, she's just doing her best to get along until she can finally go home.
Daryl's letting Jack and that lady go ahead and sleep, fuck yeah, finally some peace and quiet around this place. Shit, as soon as she wakes up he just knows she'll be wanting something from him. She'll want to pee, or he'll have to feed her, she'll need some fluids, and oh fuck yeah, he's got to doctor up that ankle again.
She's nothing but a lot of fucking work and he doesn't have time for that shit. He's got stuff he's trying to finish around this place, fuck man, winter's coming.
Right this minute though? He's getting some lunch together. He's hungry and she has to eat whether she's hungry or not. Jack doesn't get a noon meal. The dog gets fed twice a day, morning and evening, that's it. Okay, well, he'll get a treat while they eat lunch because, well shit, Daryl can't just eat in front of him, that would be mean.
He gets an apple for himself and one for her from the basket on the kitchen counter, then reaches in the big tin box next to the fruit. It's airtight and that's where he stores the crackers and cookies he keeps in the house. He gets a sleeve of saltines out of the tin, two cookies for himself and one for her, and grabs a jar of peanut butter off the shelf. He sets everything on the small wooden dining table along with two cups of water and a dog biscuit. Then he wakes them up.
"Okay you two, time ta rise n shine." Jack is up and on his feet with his tail wagging furiously while Daryl scratches the dog's neck. Then the man's attention is on the woman, he goes to her, touches her shoulder and says, "C'mon, you gotta eat, lemme help ya up," and he leans down, puts his hands under her arms and lifts her to her feet, "Lunch is ready."
She's still plenty weak, and her foot and ankle are still sore and swollen, so he hangs onto her as she hops on one foot to the table just a few feet away. If he's lucky, maybe she can feed herself. She looks at the little spread and smiles, "Oh, how nice. I actually feel really hungry. Thank you Daryl, but…um…"
He sighs, "Don't tell me, ya gotta pee."
Her cheeks turn a little pink and she says, "Yes, sorry."
"Don't be sorry. It's just natural, ain't it?"
"Well yes, I guess so, but I know it's a lot of extra work for you."
What? Is she a fucking mind reader now? "Yeah, well it ain't a big deal. C'mon, let's get this done. I'm hungry."
He holds her like he did before, her arm wrapped across his shoulders and his arm wrapped around her waist, and the last thing either of them would ever admit is that this human touch and closeness feels kind of nice.
He takes her into the bathroom, setting her down next to the toilet and it's the same routine, "Holler when ya need me."
"Okay."
One thing she's discovered, it's a lot easier when she's not wearing pants and panties. All she has to do is lift the soft shirt up and sit herself down. When she's done doing what she has to do, instead of calling him for help, she's determined to stand on her own, and she does. She hops the two feet or so to the sink and attempts to pump enough water to wash her hands. That would take balance that she doesn't have and she starts to fall to her right, grabbing onto the sink in an attempt to steady herself and squealing as she almost hits the floor.
He comes rushing in the door with Jack hot on his heels. Daryl's arms quickly wrap around her waist and as he's pulling her to her feet he barks, "What the fuck lady? How many times I gotta tell ya ta quit this shit and just ask me ta help ya?"
Maybe it's the pain because she's suddenly very emotional and the words come pouring out, "That's what you say, but I know you're mad at me and you just want me to get better and get the hell out of here, and I'm just trying not to be any more trouble than I have to be. I know you hate me." She feels like everything she just said to him is true and pretty darn obvious.
He seems astonished by her words and he sounds upset in a whole new way, "Well fuck me, sorry I'm such an asshole. You're wrong though, I don't hate ya and I ain't mad at ya. So quit tellin' me how I feel." He's flustered and accidentally opens the door to himself, just a crack, when he says, "In case ya haven't noticed, I ain't much good around people. I don't know how ta act and mostly people annoy the shit outta me and I annoy the shit outta them." He breathes out an exasperated sigh, "That's me, it ain't cuz a you."
Now he seems embarrassed, "C'mon, let's eat. I told ya like a hundred times, I'm hungry." He doesn't wait for her answer, he simply picks her up and carries her back to the house.
He sets her in the easy chair and asks, "So, ya wanna try'n sit at the table n eat, ya wanna sit here n eat, or do ya wanna lay down?"
"I'd like to try and sit at the table, please."
"Okay, but don't be makin' any sudden moves, and lemme help ya over there. Ya can't be puttin' weight on that ankle or it ain't ever gonna heal up and then I can't take ya home and you can't ever be done with me, and I'm pretty sure ya want outta here."
Oh my, she really did upset him, but he sets her on one of the kitchen chairs and suddenly all Beth can think about is food. She's pretty excited just at the sight of the peanut butter. She wasn't kidding him, after days with no real food her appetite is coming back.
He takes charge of the meal, pulling his knife from the sheath and setting her apple on a small wood cutting board where he quarters it, sets the quarters on a tin plate, then he does the same for himself. He takes a butter knife and spreads generous portions of peanut butter on a couple of saltines, sets them on the plate next to the apple slices, and slides it in front of her. Then he does the same for himself.
She finishes a cracker, savoring every bite like it's a gourmet meal. It's the first time in days she can remember actually tasting, chewing, and enjoying food. There's still tension between them though, she can feel it. Maybe some conversation about things that don't really matter will take his mind off his anger, there's only one way to find out. She asks him, "Have you ever spread peanut butter on a slice of apple?"
"No. Why would I do that?"
"Because it's delicious, go ahead, give it a try."
He looks at her like she might be playing a joke on him, but he takes the butter knife, spreads peanut butter on an apple slice and puts the whole thing in his mouth. When he has it mostly chewed and swallowed, he admits, "It tastes like one a them caramel apples. I had one a them once when I's a little kid. The fair come ta town and me n Merle went ta see what we could see, he swiped me one and it was good."
"Who's Merle?"
"My brother."
"And he stole a caramel apple for you?"
"Well yeah, shit, we didn't have no money, he got hisself one too."
"Oh, um, does he live somewhere around here?'
"Nah, Merle's a guest of the Georgia State Prison System and they like him so much they plan to keep him around another 15 years."
She has no idea what the heck to say to all of that, so she simply responds, "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, it's too bad."
He shrugs, "Yeah, well he knows he earned it; he can be a real dumbass."
Oh my gawd, this just gets better and better, what next? She can't think about it all right now though. Even as little as she's done she suddenly feels so exhausted she's afraid she may fall out of her chair. Gosh, it really is going to take time to heal, "Daryl, I…I think I need to lay down."
He's immediately on his feet and holding her up, "I gotcha, c'mon."
He lays her down and props her foot on the pillow, then covers her with the blanket and asks, "Ya want your cookie? It's oatmeal." She hides a smile, but there it is, there's the soft side of Daryl Dixon.
Her eyes look so sleepy when she glances up at him and says, "Yes please." She's fading fast but he gets the cookie and puts it in her hand.
"K, now listen, I'ma finish up here, includin' doctorin' your foot, then I'ma go out n do the wash. Jack's gonna stay here with you. Ya tell him ta come get me if ya need help, or if there's trouble."
She nods, "Okay, yes."
Jack gets his biscuit from Daryl and lays himself in front of the wood stove, but his eyes are on the woman and Daryl mumbles, "That's it Jack, you just keep watching."
Daryl finishes the last of his lunch, cleans up and then tends to her foot and ankle. She seems to be asleep but he asks her, "Can ya move it?"
"Yes, but it hurts when I do."
"Yeah, well it's still pretty swollen, but I'm startin' ta think it ain't broke, that'd be good." He wraps it again and covers it with the blanket.
His hand is on the door when he reminds her, "I won't be far, like I said, send Jack if ya need me. Just tell him, 'Go!' he'll know what ta do."
"How's he going to get out if the door's shut?"
She's never seen the man smile but he does when he answers, "Yeah, don't worry, Jack knows how ta open the door. Close it too."
He's got wash to do, damn he hates that, but shit, she only has one set of clothes, and man, they're a mess. He almost smiles again when he thinks to himself, "she does look pretty damn cute in my shirt though." Then tells himself to shut the fuck up and get to work.
00
Life on the Mountain - the Beginning
Daryl was totally unprepared when he first decided to live on this mountain. He thought with a decent place to shelter, water close by, and his ability to hunt game he'd be just fine. He soon discovered, it's not that simple.
He learned it the hard way the first spring and summer him and Jack stayed up on the mountain and worked on the cabin. He'd gotten himself a flatbed trailer and had it stacked with all the building materials he'd need. That part was covered. He'd brought some groceries, bread, milk, eggs, apples, bananas, that stuff. The milk soured and the bananas rotted before he could eat them all, and everything else was gone in about 10 days. They were down to whatever he could get hunting.
Sure, he could have gone back down the mountain and hit the grocery again, but this was supposed to be about living off the land, being self-sufficient, and not needing town or people or the grocery. So, they suffered through. Well Daryl did, Jack did just fine with his meat and dog biscuit diet. What it did for Daryl was give him plenty of time to think about how he could make things a lot better for himself.
When they came down the mountain that fall Daryl had a plan for what they'd do before they went back up the following spring.
First things first. He didn't need much of a place to live while they were in town, and he was able to work out a deal with the owner of a small, 1960's style motel. The guy took payment in advance and happily rented Daryl a room with a kitchenette at a real good price, and Daryl went to work at a nearby construction site putting up an apartment building.
That first Saturday morning he got himself up, showered, and fed, told Jack to be a good boy and wait for him, he went to the drugstore and bought himself a spiral notebook and a pen, then headed for the library.
He'd given a lot of thought to the things he had to be able to do and provide for himself, and he knew that before people had all this modern shit, they had ways of doing things for themselves.
First on his list was to learn how to preserve and store food. He remembered his grandma and his aunt canned up a lot of stuff, and even his dad did some food preservation, he made jerky. Daryl had bought dried fruits at the store a few times, he loved those dried apricots. So yeah, all that would be great, but he had no idea how to do any of it.
The other thing that got to him up on the mountain was the lack of a toilet and shower. It's one thing to use the great outdoors for a few days when a guy's out camping, but for permanent, nah, a toilet and a shower would be a whole lot better. That stuff would come a little later down the line.
Then there was the laundry situation. Holy fuck, he even got sick of himself stinking and his clothes were just plain nasty. He did his best to wash up in the lake, he scrubbed his clothes on rocks and everything, but there had to be a better way.
He had questions about a lot of other things too, and surely the library had books on that stuff. Something his fourth grade teacher said still stuck with him, "If it's worth knowing, the library has a book on it."
So, he was there when the doors opened that Saturday morning and he asked the librarian, "Where would I find books about how ta preserve food?"
Although by the looks of him the woman was pretty sure of the answer, she still smiled politely and asked, "Do you mean primitive pioneer style, or in a modern kitchen with all the gadgets and plenty of freezer space?"
Just as she suspected, he answered, "Primitive style."
"It so happens I know just the book that might interest you, I've referred to it many times myself. Come with me, I'll show you."
He thanked her, sat at one of the library tables and began to glance through the book. It was old, from the 1940's, and had been put together by a group of local housewives who called themselves the Rosewood Kitchen Club. It had everything for the beginner, what a person needs to have on hand, how to prep the food before canning it, and it had information on canning everything from fruits and vegetables to things he'd never even thought of, meat and fish and juices. Even whole meals like stews. There was also a section on dehydrating food to preserve it.
He'd never be able to write all of this shit down, or remember it all if he didn't, so he went back to the counter and asked the librarian, "Is there any way you'd sell me this book?"
She smiled, "I'm sorry, I can't, it's the library's only copy, and the county owns all of these books." He looked so disappointed she offered, "There's a woman named Erma Horvath who's mother helped put that book together. She doesn't live far from here, let me give her a call and see if there might still be a copy available."
"That's real nice of you, thanks Ma'am."
She made the call, wrote something on a paper and came back to where he waited, "Good news, she said she still has two copies that she kept back and she'd be happy to give you one." She showed him the paper and said, "This is her address, she said you could come on over now, she and her husband are home."
He looked at the paper and nodded, "That's great, thanks Ma'am. I might see ya back here next Saturday."
"I hope so. Good luck."
It was only four blocks from the library but still he took the truck. After he talked to these folks and got the book, he needed to go to the grocery and get him and Jack fixed up with food for the week, then get Jack to the park to run off some steam.
He pulled up to the curb and they were waiting for him, just standing there on the porch. That made him wonder how long it had been since they had a visitor. He walked up, nodded his head and said, "Ma'am, Sir, my name's Daryl Dixon, the lady at the library said ya might have a copy of a book I'm lookin' for."
They smiled and the lady said, "Yes son, come in, come in."
The husband held the door open and introduced them, "I'm Dale Horvath and this is my wife, Erma."
"Nice ta meet you folks."
They had a pitcher of lemonade and glasses of ice, and a plate of cookies set out on the occasional table like company was coming to call, and the lady said, "You help yourself to a glass of lemonade and a cookie young man, and have a seat. Let me get the book."
He would have just paid for the book and gone on, but he wasn't going to be impolite to those folks. They were doing him a favor. He did like she said. He poured lemonade, asked the man if he could pour him a glass, poured the lady a glass, and sat his ass down in a fancy little chair with flowered upholstery, ate his cookie and drank his lemonade.
The lady came back in the room and he stood, she handed him the book and he asked, "Thanks Ma'am, I really appreciate this. How much do I owe ya?"
"Oh no, you don't owe me a thing. I'm just glad to know someone will get use out of it. Is it for your wife?"
"Well, no Ma'am, no, it's for me. I wanna learn how ta preserve my own food."
The husband spoke up then, "That's something most men your age wouldn't even know about, can I ask you what brought this interest on?"
Daryl didn't know why he did it, it wasn't like him at all to "share," it was just something about these particular folks. They seemed like good people, kind and genuine, and so he was honest with them. He told them he had a place up in the mountains and he was looking to stay up there for long periods of time, "I wanna be able to take care of myself, not have ta depend on anyone else, and not have to come down the mountain cuz I want a can a beans or some peaches."
The couple both nodded and the woman said, "You know, my canning days are about done. I told Dale I think this will be my last year. It's a lot of work, and there's just the two of us, but I do have a batch of pickling cucumbers I'm expecting this coming week, and the week after that I've got a bushel of apples coming for applesauce."
She smiled, reached over and patted his arm, and said, "I could use a strong helper. Those pots are getting mighty heavy to lift. If you wanted to come help me, you could learn an awful lot."
Shit, why not, and pickles? That was something else he hadn't thought about, "Yes Ma'am, I'm anxious ta learn and I'd be happy ta help you. What time do ya want me here?"
"I like to get an early start, say 7:30?"
"Sure, no problem." Then he thought of it, "How long you think it'll take us?"
She shrugged and answered, "Start to finish, just a few hours. Do you have someplace you need to be?"
"Well, no, not exactly, it's just I got a dog and I'm staying down at the Mountain Inn. They don't have a backyard or nuthin' and I don't like leavin' Jack cooped up inside all day."
Her husband didn't hesitate, "Bring him along with you. We've got a good-size backyard and I miss having a dog around."
These people were so kind and generous, but he didn't for one minute think that was all of it. He suspected they were lonely, starved for company. Although he didn't think he cared much for company and visiting and all that stuff, these nice folks probably did.
"If you're sure it won't be trouble, that'd be real nice, and I appreciate you folks helping me out."
Erma Horvath smiled and said, "Don't you worry Daryl Dixon, I'm going to get plenty of work out of you."
After that, Daryl and Jack ended up spending almost every Saturday with the Horvaths. He helped them with their chores and fixed a few things here and there, and besides all the canning and dehydrating, Missus Horvath showed him how to cook the most basic of foods. Grits, cornbread, chicken fried steak and stew, "They're wonderful ways to prepare those round steaks you get off your deer Daryl, the meat will be nice and tender."
"Yes Ma'am."
Dale Horvath spent one or two days a week at the library, studying up on such things as root cellars, and how to preserve meat and fish with salt. He learned all about compostable toilets and outdoor showers, cisterns, and drawing water up from a well without an electric well pump.
He wrote everything he thought Daryl needed to know about those things in the spiral notebook, and every Saturday when Daryl visited, they discussed one of these things at great length. Daryl even drew pictures, mapping out where he'd place things on his property.
Erma Horvath taught the man how to sew on buttons, how to mend a tear in a shirt or a pair of pants, and how to sew a straight seam, "Knowing how to mend will keep you in clothes for a long time."
There was more to what she taught him, she taught him the way people washed their clothes before electricity. Him and Erma even went to the local farm museum, and Daryl learned about wash tubs, plungers and hand cranked wringers, and what a lot of work it was, "It won't be nearly as hard on you as it would be on a woman, or most men for that matter, but Daryl, you're strong enough to handle a little laundry."
He could buy a wooden tub, he could make the plunger himself, all he needed was the wringer. He made it his mission to find one, and he did.
The Horvaths enjoyed all the time they spent with Daryl and all the planning that was done. They had company every week and they were determined to help their young friend be a success at living his dream.
He left town in the early spring and him and Jack headed back up the mountain with the flatbed trailer loaded with more building supplies.
He already had a good start on a root cellar, his Dad had dug out a cellar where he stashed cases of moonshine, just in case the feds, or a greedy customer, ever showed up and tried to find his stock. They'd never think to look for a cellar several feet from the house.
Daryl expanded on what was there, shored it up so it wouldn't cave in, and made it plenty big enough to install shelves to hold his filled canning jars, and quart sized tins of salt and pepper. He hard packed the dirt floor, it would be floor space to accommodate baskets of apples, potatoes, and onions, a tub of lard, and industrial quality airtight plastic containers of varying sizes to hold powdered eggs, dry milk, red beans, cornmeal, flour, sugar and coffee beans. He didn't have all that stuff yet, but he'd get them all filled when the mountain became his permanent home.
He made a lot of progress on his mountain home that spring, summer and early fall, and although he hated to leave, it was time. He was going to get a job, make some fast cash and get more materials.
Him and Jack headed down the mountain and Daryl was able to get a room at the Mountain Inn again, and a construction job working on the new Gym at the high school.
As soon as all that was squared away, he went straight to Dale and Erma Horvath's house with flowers for the Missus and a couple of cigars for him and Dale to smoke on the back porch. He found he'd missed them, they were like grandparents he'd never had, and he was anxious to tell the couple of the progress he'd made.
When he knocked only Dale came to the front door to greet him and Jack, "Come on in boys."
Daryl looked at the man and knew something was wrong, and in a questioning tone said, "Dale…"
The man's eyes misted over, "The news isn't good son, Erma's got the cancer and…like I said, the news isn't good. She made the decision to stay here at home until it's over."
Daryl spent his Saturdays there like he'd done before, but now he was cutting their grass, cooking meals, even cleaning up around the house while Dale mostly cared for Erma and read to her. Erma Horvath had taught Daryl a lot and he put all those lessons to use. He didn't mind at all, he figured he owed these people.
It was about a month before Erma died when she told him, "I want you to have all my canning supplies Daryl, oh, and my sewing box too."
"No Ma'am, I can't take your things."
"Of course you can Daryl, do you think Dale is going to be using that stuff? I have no children to leave anything to, you're it son. I want you to take it all and if you don't, I'm coming back to haunt you." Her words had all three of them smiling.
Erma died early just before spring came.
Dale didn't know what to do with his sorrow, but he knew he couldn't just sit and cry. He started making big noise about taking the couples' RV and just hitting the road.
Daryl packed up all the canning supplies and the sewing box, hitched up his flatbed trailer and loaded it with the materials to build his new bathroom. Him and Dale shook hands, wished each other good luck, and Daryl and Jack headed up the mountain. Dale locked up his house, got in his Winnebago and set out to see the country.
00
He adds water and soap to the wooden tub, puts the clothes in and grabs the plunger. It's like a damn toilet plunger, but it's wood and has a big round head. The wooden handle is long, not quite as long as a broom handle. He takes it in both hands and begins plunging it up and down in the tub, and swirling the clothes around as he does.
When he's satisfied with that, he dumps the wash water out and adds fresh water. He plunges some more, dumps the water again, and then runs everything through the hand cranked wringer, until he gets to her little pink panties and bra. He holds them up and smiles to himself, "shit, ain't much to ring outta these," he squeezes the water out with one hand and adds them to the pile of wrung out clothing.
He grabs the basket full of clothes, takes them around the back of the cabin and hangs them on the line. It's a damn site more trouble than doing this shit at the laundromat, but he'd rather live here and do a little more work than live anywhere near a laundromat.
He goes in the house and there they are again, laying on the floor together, but they're not asleep. Beth is scratching Jack's belly and telling him what a good boy he is, and Jack is enjoying every minute of it.
She heard the door open and asks him, "Hi Daryl, everything go okay?"
"What? Ya mean with the worst job in the entire fuckin' world? Yeah, it went great. Not sure your clothes will be dry by tonight though. Jeans take a while and the clothesline is already in the shade. Probably be tomorrow. "
Now he's over closer, sitting in his chair and she dares to ask him, "Do you think there's any way I could take a shower or a bath or something? I'm just so gross."
Oh fuck no. Fuck, "Yeah, um, lemme just think a minute about how we're gonna do that."
00
A/N Hmmm Please leave a comment. The chapter photo is on my tumblr blogs gneebee and bethylmethbrick, please have a look. I'll be back next week for bath time and I hope you'll be here too. Until then remember, I love ya large! xo gneebee