26 August 2017

A Marriage Chapter 4

In which harsh words are spoken, and plans are made. An attempt at flirting doesn't go very well. At all.



...

"What the fuck does Blake think he's doing?"
Daryl Dixon sat straddling his chair, watching Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh lean over a map of Gamma Settlement and the western border it shared with Beta Settlement. Daryl had already memorized the map, as had Walsh and Grimes, but looking at it made it easier to trace out a plan, as they were now doing.
"He came from this gate," Rick said. "Gate two."
"Slimy prick won't allow other settlements inside his border," Shane said. "It's smart, makes it hard for anybody to know what kind of firepower he's got, but it makes it hard for us to know exactly what we we're dealing with."
"You thinking a recon team?" Daryl asked.
Shane cocked an eyebrow at him.
"You volunteering, Dixon?"
"No, but I'll do it."
"You read my mind," Shane said, flashing an uneven grin at Daryl.
"I don't like it," said Rick. "Two reasons. He's a high ranking officer, third in command of Genesis. Second, he's about to get married. You get killed or captured…"
"The Greene's lose everything," Daryl said, finishing Rick's thought. "Fuck."
"You want him to hang back over a goddamned farm?" asked Shane, eyes wide and steadily heating up.
"Not just any farm, but Hershel's," Rick answered with his lips getting tight.
"Look, I know he was one of our best assets in the early years, feeding the poor, spying on Beta and Blake's predecessor, but Blake's become a real threat, Rick," Shane said. "I need my best men to go in and look around, and nobody is sneakier than Daryl."
"Fine," Rick replied tightly. "Change the laws about women owning land. That way if you get Daryl killed with this mission, Miss Jo won't lose everything she and her husband built up over the past thirty years."
"You know now isn't the time for major legislative changes Rick," Shane came back equally tight.
"You're right," said Rick, holding up his hands in a gesture of Shane surrender. "I should've known not to expect loyalty from you."
Daryl stood from his chair as Rick and Shane info immediately squared off.
"It's been six years," Shane said, his voice so low Daryl could barely hear him.
"I don't care if it was sixty," Rick ground out in a voice like gravel and ice.
"Guys," Daryl said. "You've had this fight before. Too many times."
"Looks like we're due to have it again," Rick said.
"Now's not the time for this," Shane said. "If you really can't move on, maybe I shouldn't have you at my back, especially now."
"That's the difference between us, Shane," Rick replied. "I don't stab somebody until I'm face to face with them."
Daryl pulled Rick back and put himself between his commanding officers. They stood with their fists clenched, their breath coming in hard, and the tension was palpable, like a wave of heat from hot concrete, and both men were equally unyielding as such.
"Come on, enough!" Daryl insisted. "This ain't the time and y'all ain't sixteen years old anymore."
"You best be careful, Daryl," Shane warned. "Friends or not, I'm still your CO."
"You best remember you're supposed to be in charge," Daryl said. "Setting an example, all that. You're not living up to the rank right now."
"You know what? I started this fight, I'm gonna finish it," Rick said, before starting for the door.
"I didn't dismiss you," Shane growled.
"You should get right on that, then, or arrest me for insubordination," Rick shot back, before slamming through the tent flap and letting in a gust of wind only slightly less frigid than the feelings he left in his wake.
Shane started after him, but Daryl put a hand on his chest and and halted him.
"Let him go, Shane," Daryl told him. "Hershel used to stay on my ass about learning to pick my battles, and I did. Don't pick this one."
"That fucking...he won't let it go!"
"Y'all were once best friends, till you hurt him," Daryl reminded him. "I know 'I'm sorry' ain't really in your vocabulary, but you should make an exception. Maybe your friendship is worth more than your pride? Can't you be the one to apologize just once?"
Shane shook his head, making Daryl sigh.
"Pick a team and leave at sunset," Shane said. "If you get captured or killed, I'll order the land to stay in family, as an exception, making Otis the patriarch until one of the girls can produce a male heir with the Greene family name. I'll do it for Hershel."
"Thanks," Daryl said.
"Go get some rest. You'll need it before you set out. Dismissed."
Daryl started for the door but Shane's voice halted him.
"It wasn't like what Rick thinks," Shane said, in a voice so quiet Daryl wasn't sure Shane was actually speaking to him.
"What?"
Shane looked up after he pulled an unlabeled bottle of whiskey from his desk drawer. He tom a deep pull and winced. Outside the canvas tent, Daryl could hear the wind howling, cold and hollow, and the boots of their men stomping over frozen earth.
"They weren't sleeping in the same room anymore," Shane said. "They hated each other, it wasn't just her against him. It was going both ways."
"You think that meant you literally should've slipped into their marriage bed?" queried Daryl.
"Why not?" Shane asked. "He'd left it a whole year before. They were talking divorce already...Never mind. Dismissed."
Daryl nodded and left the tent, heading out into the driving wind that was colder than anything he'd felt in Georgia in awhile, even for winter. He entered the tent he and Rick were sharing and zipped it tightly shut. The sound of the canvas flapping in the frigid gusts made him shiver, despite the heat pouring out of the portable heater in the center of the tent.
Daryl sat down on his cot and accepted the flask Rick passed him.
"You ain't the only one drinking right now," Daryl informed him. "So's he. What the fuck was that, Rick?"
Rick's blue eyes were every bit as cold as the ice they reminded Daryl of.
"I think about it every time I look at him," said Rick. "On one hand, I get it. Lori and I were done. We were roommates, just waiting for a good excuse to divorce. On the other, he was my fucking brother!"
Rick whispered the last with an intensity that rivaled the heat that spilled from the little radiator between them.
"I would never have done that to him," Rick said.
"No, you wouldn't," Daryl agreed. "But he ain't you, and it happened, and hanging onto it ain't gonna do shit for either of you but turn you into enemies. You in love with Lori?"
Rick shook his head.
"It ain't about the love I had for her, Daryl," Rick said, lying back on his cot. "It's about the love I had for him."
"Find a way to move on," Daryl said, following Rick's lead and lying down on the cot, hearing it groan under his weight. "We're probably gonna end up at war with Blake. We need to be able to trust each other. We need to be brothers now, more than ever."
Rick didn't answer, and Daryl didn't push. He contented himself to lay there, pulling the scratchy wool blanket over him and forcing his mind to quiet down so he could rest for that night's mission. Shane had been right. He'd need it. Putting Rick and Shane's old beef behind him was simple enough, but getting Maggie Greene out of his mind wasn't nearly as easy.
Maggie's belly was growling by the time she got off her bicycle and trotted up the steps to the house. She was freezing. Snow wasn't unheard of in Georgia, but having it accumulate and stick around for a week was odd. Having the temperatures plunge to fifteen degrees, at maximum, for days at a time, was also unusual, so she was glad the weather forecast called for a warm up soon.
"Mama? We got any leftovers?"
She'd not had anything to take in for lunch and her pride refused to allow her to accept Carol's offer to share her lunch. Now she was hungry enough to eat a raw potato - if they'd had any.
"Sorry, no," Josephine said. "We've had to ration hard this month. You know how lean winter can be. I'm sure there'll be plenty in that food package."
"That's right," Maggie said. "I forgot about that."
The bell rang half an hour later. When Maggie answered a woman stood at the door in a green Security League uniform.
"Margaret Greene?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Identification, please."
Maggie hurried to get her card from her purse. Once she signed the form on the clipboard, the woman went to the long trailer behind the jeep she'd driven up to the house. She, and another woman, hauled a large box up to the house, which they set inside, before bringing up two smaller ones. A ten-pound sack of potatoes, and a bag of onions, garlic cloves, and a sack of oats was brought in separately.
"This is a starter package," said one woman. "You'll need to inform us of what you're running low on each week, and what you have enough of."
Please try not to rip the boxes when you open them, and keep them in a dry place," the other woman said. "We'll switch the them out when we return in seven days. Good day, ma'am."
The large box was heavy. Josephine and Patricia helped her lug it, and the two smaller boxes, into the kitchen. They were plain, no labels on them, nothing written on them to indicate what was contained inside.
"Feels like Christmas," Patricia joked. "All this for us?"
One of the smaller boxes was marked meats. There were pork chops, trout, beef roasts, steaks, sausages, eggs, and bacon inside, all wrapped in heavy, white paper packages that had been properly marked. Nothing was yet frozen. The other small box was labeled vegetables, fruit, and nuts. It was packed with fresh vegetables rather than canned, and a variety of nuts and fruit.
The largest box was stuffed full of packages of lard, sugar, salt, pepper, vinegar, an abundance of spices, a tub of butter, a selection of cheeses, crackers, baking chocolate, cocoa, flour, milk, honey, baking soda, yeast, and, to Patricia's delight, a one-pound sack of ground coffee. Josephine pulled out a slender box with Maggie's name on it. She opened it to find it packed tight with candy canes, caramels, and milk chocolate.
"There's gotta be a year's worth of trading in the meat alone," Patricia pointed out. "Not to mention the rest. This is weekly?"
"This ain't fair," Maggie said, feeling the heat of anger begin to pool in her belly. "We've got neighbors going hungry while we get all this? It's embarrassing."
"It comes with marrying a high-ranking officer," Otis said.
Maggie jumped, not expecting him to be standing behind her. He was on his cane, his right foot swollen almost twice its size. "You'll have to get used to privilege. It ain't fair, but that's how it is."
"Otis!" Patricia said. "Why are you up? Doc Stookey told you to stay off this foot until the swelling came down."
He waved his wife away and motioned at the box of candy, which Maggie offered up. He snagged a candy cane.
"Otis is right about the privilege, you know," Josephine said. "It can't be changed and you know how protests go. You'll only get yourself, and Daryl, in trouble if you cause a ruckus about it."
"My vote is for fried trout," Patricia said hopeful to change the subject, but also to get everyone to agree to a dinner of fried fish.
Maggie put on a smile and agreed. "Fried trout it is."


Beth came home in a sour mood and didn't realize they'd received a food delivery. She sat down on the porch beside Maggie to complain about getting in trouble for talking in class when she hadn't opened her mouth.
"It was all Sunny Watson!" Beth groused. "She's such a motor mouth, Maggie. She wouldn't shut up no matter how much I ignored her. I got yelled at even though I wasn't talking. And why are you out here on the porch? It's freezing."
She'd come outside to think. How could Beth know her family's larder would remain stocked while so many good people rationed? Kids were fed well at school but their parents, and teachers, did without. It wasn't fair. Yet she knew her mama was right. She was marrying a man who was well paid and in a position of authority. She was just gonna have to accept that not everybody would have it as easy as they were going to from there out. Besides, it wasn't like they hadn't put in their time. It wasn't like she wasn't sacrificing the chance at a real marriage, and real love, so they didn't lose their farm. Or so she told herself.
"Is that fish I smell being fried up?" Beth said, looking toward the closed front door.
"Patricia's cooking trout," Maggie told her.
"I love trout!" Beth said, delighted. "That order arrived?"
"Yeah," Maggie answered, with a nod.
Beth squeezed her hand, sensing her sister was upset, but not understanding why.
"You don't have to do it," Beth said. "We'll all understand."
"I'm not having second thoughts about the marriage," Maggie told her.
"You worried about him?" asked Beth. "He's been in the SL forever. He's highly decorated for bravery. He'll come home, you'll get married, and the farm will be safe."
Maggie knew her sister meant well, but she didn't feel like talking. Beth wouldn't leave it alone until she felt like she'd helped cheer her up, so Maggie pasted on a false smile.
"What's this, candy?" Beth asked, looking at the box sitting in Maggie's lap. "That's so sweet of him!"
Beth reached for a caramel but Maggie withheld. "Not till after dinner."
"Which is ready in ten, so go wash up," Josephine said from the doorway, where she'd been watching them. Beth rolled her eyes but hurried upstairs to do as told.


Maggie hadn't eaten so well since before her father's first heart attack over a year before. Fried trout, baked potatoes with butter, salt, and pepper, fresh greens, and chocolate cake for after. Patricia brewed a pot of coffee and Maggie was enjoying hers when the phone rang.
"It's for you, Maggie," Beth said, holding the receiver to her shoulder, and smiling mischievously. "Daryl."
"I'll take it in Daddy's study," Maggie said. "I don't need your teasing again."
Beth scowled, but the look was ruined by the chocolate frosting on her chin.
"Daryl?"
"You got your package?"
"Yes," Maggie said. "I haven't eaten so well in a long time, thank you."
He was silent a few moments before he hissed.
"Don't seem fair, does it?" he asked. "That a few have so much and so many have so little."
She flicked the lamp to high and toyed with her coffee cup. It's like he'd read her mind. Obviously, he was aware of how unfair the disparity was, and it didn't sit well with him. That somehow eased the guilt for having a belly full of good food.
"No, it ain't right," she agreed. "Do you ever get used to it?"
"I haven't," he said, "but now I got y'all, a family, it ain't so bad."
Maggie listened to the wind howling outside while she thought over Daryl's words. He'd always been alone but she'd never considered this from his perspective. He seemed so eager to claim them, provide for them. She'd thought this marriage would be a sacrifice for Daryl but now she wasn't so sure. After being alone for all her adult life, how would she feel to gain a family, and save their land in the process? It would probably be pretty damn good.
"You okay, Daryl?" She asked, after he made a sound of pain.
"Got cut on a piece of glass and they're out of anesthesia," he said. "I'm getting stitched up the old-fashioned way: no pain killers."
"You've been given antibiotics, though, right?"
"Don't worry, I'll be there for the wedding," he assured her.
Maggie tried not to sound annoyed when she responded. Why did he just assume all she cared about was the wedding, and the land? Why did he think she couldn't care about him, too?
"I ain't asking because of that. I just wanna make sure you'll be okay."
God, she sounded like an idiot. Like some simpering bride-to-be when she wasn't in love with him. She worried about giving him the wrong idea, about making him think she felt something more, when, in fact, she didn't.
"Thanks," he said, a smile in his voice. "That's decent of you, but you ain't gotta pretend to care."
"I ain't!" she said, openly offended now. "What, you think I'm some cold bitch who can't care about another person?"
"No, I just...I've had my tetanus?"
His voice trailed away into awkward silence, and Maggie felt some of her anger cool.
"That's good," she said calmly. "Look, I ain't trying to just use you, Daryl. I mean, I've known you all my life. This arrangement is to save the farm, true, and we're not in love, but we can be friends, and I can care about what happens to you. You know you're welcome in the family, too. You've always been welcome. You're one of us, so if I ask how you are it's because I really do care."
There was some humor in Daryl's voice when he said, "Yes ma'am. Understood. You get the candy?"
"Yes, thank you. I put half back for me. Beth's stealing the caramels while Otis and Mama steal the canes. Mama loves mint."
"What's your favorite?"
"Chocolate is good but I like cinnamon. I'm spicy."
"I'll bet," he said, his voice a little husky.
The innuendo in the conversation led to an awkward silence between them, and Maggie felt her face heat. She didn't know how to respond. Was he flirting, or had it been accidental? Did he expect her to flirt back? Or would that make the situation even more uncomfortable?
"Um, I gotta go, Maggie," he said, after a long, tense pause. "I'll see you soon."
"Be careful," she said. "Call anytime."
She hung up the phone and sagged against the chair, trying to figure out why they couldn't even talk without it getting awkward.
"This is gonna be one hell of a marriage." 

20 August 2017

A Marriage Chapter 3

Maggie paced the living room. Daryl had asked for a few days to think things over after her mother gave him Hershel's letter. That had been a week ago. A whole week in which Maggie waited for word from Daryl about the fate of their family's future. He'd offered to do anything he could for the family, but this was taking that offer to the extreme. While she waited for him to come over that evening, possibly to tell them no, she was losing precious time to find someone. She especially feared that Beth would have to wed Noah, without being certain he was the man she wanted to be with, at least until she could produce a male heir. She was so young, and Maggie dreaded putting such heavy responsibilities upon her shoulders.

"He'll say no, of course," Maggie said, worrying her thumb between her teeth, chewing on the nail. "Who the hell marries somebody for a farm they don't need or want?"

Maggie wanted to rage against the sexist, draconian laws General Walsh refused to overturn. His excuse was always the same: Until society fully bounced back from near annihilation from the outbreak, they had to use a system that works, a system based on patriarchy. Humanity always fell back on what it knew to survive, blah, blah, blah. It was bullshit. As far as she was concerned all that was just an excuse to create a power imbalance in favor of men, but there was nothing that could be done to change it. Not yet. Not for a very long time.

When a military Jeep trundled up the driveway on that early February morning, Maggie felt her stomach clench. Beth's eyes were wide when she looked at Maggie.

"If he doesn't want you, maybe me?" She said in a timid, trembling voice. "I'll do it if I have to."

Maggie squeezed Beth's shoulder knowing if Daryl declined he probably didn't want the whole deal, not because he didn't have the hots for her, specifically, but she didn't have the heart to say that.

"That's brave of you, Beth," said Maggie. "Thank you. We'll see what he says."

Josephine leaned in the kitchen entrance. Her arms were tightly crossed, she shivered, and her even, white teeth bit her bottom lip. She nodded at Maggie to answer when Daryl rang the bell.

"Come in," Maggie said. He had a few snowflakes on his shoulders that she brushed off. She accepted his jacket and hung it up before she closed the door against the cold.

"Would you like some tea? Patricia grows it," Josephine said. "Coffee is just too pricey, I'm afraid."

"Oh, Lord up above, are you gonna say yes or not?" Beth blurted. She wrung her hands and looked a nervous wreck.

"Beth!" Josephine snapped. She looked as mortified as Maggie felt. For his part, Daryl looked amused.

"I'd love some tea, Miss Jo," he said.

"Beth, would you make the tea?" Josephine asked.

"Can't Patricia do it? I don't wanna be left out like some kid."

"Perhaps you should behave like an adult if you wish to be treated as one," Josephine scolded. "Do as I say. Make the tea."

Beth went to the kitchen without further protest, while Josephine ushered Daryl and Maggie over to the couch. She took Hershel's easy chair and sat to face them.

"So, Daryl, have you come to a decision?"

"I did some research," Daryl said. "I spoke to a lawyer concerning the laws around the issue. It's clear, Miss Jo. If agree then the house, the land, all the equipment, animals, everything, would come under my authority. This wouldn't be the Greene farm anymore, but the Dixon farm. This would still spell the end of the Greene family name, at least in Genesis."

"Yes, I know," Josephine said, "but at least the place wouldn't be snatched up by the government. It would be in the family. Maggie would be able to call this place home and that's what matters. The Greene family will have to carry on elsewhere in Georgia through his cousin, Vernon Greene, in Augusta. All I ask is that you give Otis and Patricia time to find housing, and give me a few months to find a place for me and Beth. Then you and Maggie would have the house to yourself."

"Ma'am, this is a five-bedroom house," Daryl responded. "There's plenty of room for all of us. I wouldn't, if I agreed, ask any of you to leave. Housing is scarce anyway. It's unlikely y'all would find anything in Genesis with us barely running at sustainable capacity already."

Josephine and Maggie both sagged in relief. This had been their biggest worry, having to move out and split the family apart. Now they knew they wouldn't have to if he decided to grant Hershel's request. Josephine thanked Daryl, and then waited on him to make a choice.

He looked at Maggie for a few moments. "You're sure?"

"I'm positive," she said, without hesitation.

"All right," he said, "then my answer's yes. I'll do it."

"You're picking Maggie instead of me?" Beth asked, having returned from the kitchen without the tea. "Oh, thank God."

Daryl cocked an eyebrow at her, and she immediately stammered an apology.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like you're…I mean…uh…"

"It's all right, I get it," he said, smiling at her, before he pulled a black velvet box from his pocket.

It was a surreal moment, watching him open it to reveal a diamond ring that was much more expensive than she would've believed possible in these hard times, even for a ranking SL officer. He even got down on one knee for a proper proposal.

"Maggie Greene, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

"Yes," she said. "I will."

This was never what Maggie had in mind for herself. She'd long held a fantasy that she'd be in love with the man who proposed to her. Perhaps they'd be on a romantic walk, get caught in the rain, and he'd propose anyway. They'd laugh as he slipped the ring on her finger, then kiss, and start their lives together. Having a long-time family friend pop the question, merely to save the family farm, had never once crossed her mind, and her dreams of marrying for love were further from her than ever.

When Daryl slid the ring onto her finger Maggie felt like he was slipping a chain around her neck. They'd have a friendly but loveless marriage, some children, and that would be her life, however long it was. She felt the ring on her finger. It was a bit loose once it slid on, but her knuckle kept it from falling off. He'd guessed her ring size perfectly.

"What happens now?" Maggie asked.

"Now we set a date. We have to be married within thirty days of Hershel's passing. We've got eighteen days left," Daryl said. "I'm leading the aid mission to Collins settlement and I have to leave tomorrow. I'll return in ten days, which is plenty of time for us to make it official, I give you my word. How about the sixteenth? A couple of days after I've returned?"

"That sounds fine," Maggie said. "Mama?"

Josephine bowed her head. "Agreed. Shall we move your things here, Daryl?"

Daryl shook his head. "I'll do it when I get back."

"The tea is almost ready," Beth said.

"You ladies enjoy it," Daryl said, heading for his coat. "I've got a lot of preparations to make with regards to my house. Good day."

He faced Maggie. They awkwardly made a couple of attempts at a kiss to the cheek goodbye, moving in the same direction and almost bumping noses, unable to get the angle right, before Daryl settled on kissing her hand. He nodded to the other women.

"The announcement will be in the paper in a few days," he told them. "It's just a matter of public record when a high ranking Security League officer marries. We can't refuse the announcement."

He looked glad to be out of the house when he trotted down the steps, Maggie was relieved when he was gone.

"That attempt at a kiss was plain painful to watch," said Patricia.

Maggie secretly agreed and could only imagine their wedding night. Beth must've read her mind because she melodramatically slapped a hand to her chest.

"How are y'all gonna have sex if you can't even manage a little kiss to the cheek?" Beth asked, earning a shush from Josephine and a gentle nudge in the ribs from Patricia at the same time.

Maggie hurried upstairs, desperate to be alone and away from her sister's blunt honesty, delivered in the guise of a joke.

"Nice going, Beth," Josephine grumbled.

"But it's true!"

Three days later the announcement hit the papers and the cards started coming in to congratulate Maggie on making a good match. Most of the people meant well but there were a few that reeked of phony cheer. It was obvious why she was marrying. It had nothing to do with love, and everything to do with saving the family farm, and everyone knew it. Some of the comments in the cards were nothing short of trolling.

Josephine tutted when she saw a card from one of their neighbors. She set it aside.

"Who sent that one?" asked Maggie.

"Annette Miller," Josephine answered.

"You've never liked her, Mama. May I ask why?"

Patricia and Josephine looked at one another for a long time.

"You may not want to know," Josephine said.

"I've heard rumors," Maggie said. "She and Daddy used to be an item."

"Yeah," Josephine said, sipping from her cup of tea. "The problem is, they were an item ten years into our marriage."

Maggie couldn't have been more shocked if her mother had announced she was an alien from outer space and turned orange to prove it. She also would've been less hurt, and disappointed.

"Is...is that why Daddy slept on the couch for a year when I was twelve? Why you argued when you thought I couldn't hear?"

"Yes," said Josephine. "He had an affair, and it almost cost us our marriage. In the end, I decided to forgive and he earned back my trust. Don't hold it against him, Maggie. It was a long time ago. He was human, and made a mistake. He atoned to me, and I'm the one person it mattered to most."

"He never went back to her?"

"I'm positive he didn't," said Josephine.

"Esther Cartwright," Patricia said. She flicked it toward Maggie.

"Daddy didn't-"

"God no," Josephine said, chuckling. "It's blind luck she never knew about Hershel and Annette. It would've spread all over Georgia in a week if she had. She's a gossip. She tries to ingratiate herself, win your trust, and then spread your business all over town."

"If she doesn't have anything real to gossip about she'll make something up," Patricia said. "She almost got Otis banned from church starting rumors he was a homosexual! This was back when Reverend Tucker oversaw the protestant church. When he found out she'd lied about something so serious he banned her for two years."

"She tried to convert to Catholicism but Father O'Bannon wouldn't accept her," said Josephine. "She had to eat crow. She was humiliated, and the talk among the other gossips she usually chatted with. She's still a horrible gossip but she hasn't made up one truly harmful falsehood, that we know of, since."

"I know she likes to feel important," said Maggie. "When Daryl and I have a public ceremony this summer I'm sure she'll expect an invitation. She won't get it. Neither will Annette. I don't want her there."

"It's your day," Josephine said. "You invite only those you want to be there."

Maggie was congratulated at work, too, by both students and faculty, but she wondered how many secretly judged her. She wasn't just marrying to save the farm, which anyone with common sense could figure out. She was marrying the last Dixon in Genesis. Granted, Daryl was the last of his name, but his family history was practically a thing of legend, and for all the wrong reasons.

She was surprised by a cake and tea in the staff break room. Rosita, Carol, and Karen Gutierrez had gathered together, putting a little celebration on for her.

"Is this to save the family farm?" Carol asked.

"Carol!" Rosita said, embarrassed by Carol's bluntness, but she still looked at Maggie with curiosity.

"It's okay," said Maggie. "Yes. It's an arrangement. A marriage of convenience."

"I went out with Daryl a few years ago," said Karen. "Just for a few months. We didn't fall in love but we had fun. Boy, are you a lucky woman."

Carol and Rosita laughed. Maggie felt her face heat. "Yeah?"

"Slightly better than usual endowment but that's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what are you talking about, Karen?" Carol asked, batting her lashes innocently.

"His tongue," she answered, with a devilish smile on her lips. "It's like magic. On your wedding night, just lay back and let him do his thing. You'll wake up the whole fucking house, cumming your brains out."

Maggie inwardly cringed at the idea, but she hid it well behind a smile and a wink.

Daryl surprised Maggie with a phone call that night.

"How's food?"

"We're okay," she said, noticing Beth standing on the porch with Noah. They shared a kiss before Beth came back inside and he went to his bike to head home. "Patricia and I plan to go trading tomorrow."

He paused, and in the background she could hear men talking and dishes clanking. Daryl wasn't trying to carry the conversation, and she wasn't sure what to say to him. She was just about to ask about the weather, or how his mission was going, when he started speaking at the same time as her.

"Sorry, you go ahead," he said.

"I just wondered how's the mission going?" she asked awkwardly.

"It's all right," he answered, but his voice was strained. "We've got the citizens safe. They're being fed, tended to."

"It's noble what you're doing," Maggie told him. "You're noble."

There was a lot more intensity in her voice than she expected. She was truly proud of what he did. When she learned he was leading a mission to save another settlement from a fire that destroyed most of it, a fire that started from an attack from Beta Settlement, under General Blake, she'd felt pride in the man he was. It showed through in his voice.

"Thank you," he replied. He sounded embarrassed, a little bashful, at the praise. "That's nice of you to say."

"Just speaking truth. What were you gonna say?"

"I added you to my supplies account," he informed her. "Just call the quartermaster and tell her you need a basic family food package delivered. Tell her it's for a family of five adults. Call tonight and they'll have it delivered by the time you're home from work tomorrow."

"You really don't have to do that."

"You're gonna be my wife, Maggie," he said. "Your family will be mine. It's time I started providing for you. Make the call, please.

"Okay," she said, writing down the number he gave her. "Are you okay?"

"Just a minor wound," he said. "I'm gonna be fine, though. It's nothing."

She told him to stay safe, and as soon as they hung up, she called the number he gave her and put the order in. She'd have to sign for it next day. She set the phone down after and caught Beth smugly grinning at her.

"What?" she demanded.

"'You're so noble, Daryl'," Beth said in a dramatically simpering voice. She batted her eyes, which made Patricia and Otis snicker. Even her mother had to bite down on a grin. "'Oh Daryl, be careful my brave soldier man!'"

"You shut up!" Maggie said, feigning insult. She was just glad her sister was smiling for the first time since their father died. To see her joking was a relief, and it lifted not only her spirits, but everyone else's. "I didn't say anything of the sort, and I don't talk like that."

Her family was outright laughing now. It was embarrassing, annoying, and admittedly she was amused, too. This was the first time she'd heard laughter in the house since her father died, and it felt good. It was nice to see her baby sister smiling again, her blue eyes bright with something besides grief.

"'I can't wait until you're home safe and sound, my love!'" Beth teased again.

"All right, that's enough," Maggie said.


She lunged for her, and Beth barely dodged out of the way. She took off running but Maggie caught her in the living room and pinned her to the couch where she tickled her little sister into fits of screeching laughter until she begged for mercy.

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10 August 2017

A Marriage Chapter 2

In which Hershel is laid to rest. Maggie and the family deal with grief. Daryl and Maggie share a moment.

...

Five Days Later

Maggie awoke to a pounding headache. Sleep hadn't come easily, and what little she'd gotten had been nothing but nightmares. She looked at the clock and saw it was 5:45am. She'd gone to bed at midnight, and she would count the number of hours of genuine sleep at around two. The old clock ticked along while she stared out of her bedroom window at the impenetrable darkness beyond. She couldn't see the lights in town, with her room at the back of the house, facing away from it. She had the sense she was staring into a yawning abyss with nothing but cold and loneliness to be found in its depths.

By the time she looked at the clock she was surprised only a minute had passed, though it seemed like so more time had gone by. That had been the case over the past five days since her father's passing. Time crawled by. It was as though she'd spent months grieving for him, when it had only been five days. It was torture, the way time crawled along, as though it enjoyed inflicting suffering on her, and those she loved.

Josephine tried to be strong and brave, but it was an act that Maggie could see through with ease. After all, the woman had just lost her best friend, the love of her life. She went about her day as usual, but without speaking a word. She held Beth with a distant look in her eyes, as though she was unable to remain in the present, undoubtedly trapped in the past she'd shared with her husband. She sometimes would smile while washing dishes, or frown while pushing food around on her plate that she couldn't bring herself to eat.

Beth refused to leave her room for the first three days. Often, the sound of bitter tears could be heard, muffled through her closed bedroom door. When she would come out to shower or eat, she would stare at the ground, her eyes hollow with grief. It wasn't until Maggie threatened to force feed her after two days of not eating, that Beth finally managed half a sandwich before rushing to her room to cry again.

There was something different, that morning, that Maggie noticed with mixed emotions: The pain wasn't quite as intense. Five days and she realized that she had a desire to shower, put on something clean, and fix her hair. The first five days, such normal activity had been a terrible burden, done with a sense of pointlessness that had been nearly impossible to overcome.

Breakfast was oats with the last bit of sugar and butter until they could get into town to trade, but Maggie had no doubts they'd be drowning in food before the night was over. Funeral food. It was so depressing. Maggie forced down her breakfast but relished the tea from Patricia's little indoor garden, but she secretly wished it was coffee. With that done, she tried to ignore her headache and prepare to help her sister and mother get dressed for the funeral. It was time to lay her father to rest.


The piercing ceremony would be held at Douglas Funeral home. Normally that duty was fulfilled by the eldest son, when a father passed, or the eldest daughter, when the mother passed, but Josephine decided she'd do it. She didn't have the heart to ask it of Maggie. They prepared to leave early, to hitch up the wagon to their only horse and ride the three miles out to the edge of town to the funeral home, when a black limousine pulled up, bearing the red, white, blue, and black Genesis flags. Beth took in a deep breath when Noah climbed out of the driver's seat, in full dress uniform, and ran to him. He hugged her close and whispered something that made her nod in agreement. He grabbed something from the limo.

"Mrs. Greene," Noah said, coming to stand before her, holding the old American flag, perfectly folded into a triangle. "Shall I hold this for you until after the funeral? Or do you want it now? It's your choice, Ma'am."

"Hold it," Josephine said. "Was this car your idea?"

"I couldn't afford it," he answered. "This is from Col. Dixon. He left this note for you."

He passed a folded sheet of expensive parchment to Josephine, who quickly read it before tucking it into her purse with a nod.

"Tell him I'd be grateful if he did."

Noah nodded before opening the door so they could climb into the limo. Otis went in last, and Maggie looked at the house, feeling the heaviness of grief and sadness weigh on her chest as she remembered her father standing on the porch, toking on his corn pipe and looking over the family land. He would never be there again.

Noah had to slowly navigate through the street, which was now packed with cars and people trying to cross to get to the funeral home, before he turned to the lot that led around to the rear of the building. Daryl waited by the rear entrance and held the door open for them, allowing them to file inside. The smell of spices tinted the air, as did flowers. Maggie followed one of the employees, who led them to a room filled with red velvet, cushy pews, crimson carpeting that was soft underfoot, and accented with white walls. For some reason, she kept thinking of blood on bone and had to close her eyes against the imagery.

Her father lay on a silver table that had been covered in a white sheet, dressed in his old military uniform, which her mother had cleaned and pressed the day before. Theodore Douglas himself was working to wheel him over to a contraption, bolted to the floor, that had a thin silver lance that retracted when Theodore pushed a lever forward. Maggie's stomach rolled at the sight of it and she feared her oatmeal was going to come back up.

"They're gonna stab Daddy in the head," Beth whispered.

"That's not your Daddy," Josephine said. "Baby, your Daddy's gone."

The piercing parlor was empty, reserved only for family and close friends. In this case, it was Josephine, her daughters, Patricia, Otis, Daryl, and Noah. Maggie sat between her mother and Patricia. She took comfort in the feel of Patricia's hand gripping hers tight while she watched her father lie on the table, squirming, struggling to free himself while his mouth, which had been made up for the funeral, snap and snarl with ravenous, unending hunger.

It'll be over soon, Daddy, Maggie thought. If you're in there, it's going to be over soon, and you'll truly be at peace.

Theodore Douglas, the funeral director, and a pastor at their church, stood by at a respectful distance. He was a large man with a young, kind face, somber now, in empathy for the family who sat before the table, waiting for the ceremony to end.

"Is there anyone who would care to speak before the piercing?" Theodore asked.

Daryl cleared his throat and took his place behind the ceremonial piercer. He was handsome, his beard neatly trimmed, his hair cut in the short style of the Security League. His dress uniform was immaculate.

"Miss Josephine, Miss Patricia, and Otis will remember when I first met Hershel Greene," Daryl said, a ghost of a smile at his lips. "I was 20 years old, and as wild as a feral boar, about as dangerous, too. Hershel caught me trying to steal some trout from the icebox he kept out in the barn to store extra meat. I was starving, dirty, a black eye and bloody mouth from a recent beating from my father, and I was plenty angry…but he saw something in me. He saw the potential to change. He hired me as a farm hand, held the money I earned for over a year so I could get my own place. Then, when he knew I was ready, he helped me get into the Security League. He helped me overcome my upbringing to be a better man. He made sure I was educated, with both book learning and life learning. He wasn't the only one who helped me. Miss Josephine taught me table manners, how to sew, and how to treat a lady. Miss Patricia let me practice what I learned on charming her, and Otis taught me everything he knows hunting and cleaning a kill. The Greene family, Otis and Patricia included, gave me a good life. I'm who I am now because Hershel, and you all, took a chance on me. I owe you everything. I'll always be here for you. I'll never let you down."

Daryl stood behind the piercer and took the lever in hand.

"I Release you, Hershel Greene. Rest in Peace, Sir."

Daryl pulled the lever, and there was a hard thunking sound as it hit home, embedded into Hershel's brain. Maggie couldn't stop herself from reacting, every muscle in her body tensing at the sound. She kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, squeezing Patricia's hand too tightly, though the older woman didn't complain. She simply held on, and used her other hand to pat Maggie on the leg, while Beth wept into Josephine's shoulder. When Maggie dared open her eyes, the piercing machine had been removed. The lance had been left inside Hershel's head. He'd be buried with it.

With his duties complete, Daryl moved aside while Hershel was wheeled out. Theodore would finish dressing Hershel, make sure the wound didn't leak, place him in his coffin, and the funeral would begin.


The service seemed to drag on forever. Maggie listened to the stories about her father's acts of kindness. He'd done so much for their community, as both a veterinarian, and growing extra crops to feed the poor strictly at cost of the seed. While she was proud of all the genuinely good things people had to say, she just wanted to go home and lie down. Her head was splitting open even worse than it had been that morning, and her stomach was upset. The stress and the grief left her drained. Still, she soldiered on. She sat through the hour-long service before she walked to the limousine waiting in outside for the family. They piled back into the car, rode out to the cemetery, listened to a few words by Theodore Douglas, and then they went home.

As Maggie suspected, they were drowned in food. Casseroles, cakes, pies, salads, and other foods had been given by their neighbors and friends. Meat was scarce, which was to be expected, but Maggie saw a beautiful platter of fried chicken she normally would've dipped into. The smell of it was making Maggie sick. She hurried outside, onto the front porch, and seconds later was vomiting over the banister. Nothing really came up. She hadn't had an appetite since her father passed.

She was surprised when a hand gripped her shoulder and another pulled her hair back as she heaved.

"Maggie."

Daryl stood next to her, holding her hair from her face, and then helped her into a chair.

"I'll go get Miss Jo," he offered.

"No, don't," Maggie said, panting. "She's going through enough, especially with Beth."

"You need to lie down," Daryl said. "Come on. I'll see you upstairs. You were pale and sick all through the service, you need some rest now."

"I'm too old to be tucked in, Daryl," she said, her voice weak and shaky.

"That's an order," Daryl said, pulling her to her feet and leading her inside.

"I'm not one of your soldiers," Maggie tried to grouse, but she was too tired to really argue with him. She saw all the faces of the guests, some she knew well, some she didn't. Some of them she was fond of, like Carol and Rosita, but others she didn't particularly care for. None of it mattered. She was simply too wiped out to deal with anything else.

"You know which room is mine?" Maggie said, when Daryl led her right to her room.

He snorted.

"I know this house like the back of my hand," he reminded her. "I used to stay in that guest room. You used to make me tuck you in, till you got too old for it. That crush you had on me was cute, though."

"I never," Maggie denied, letting Daryl pull down the covers and pull her shoes off. Once she was under the covers, he promised he'd return. He did, ten minutes later, with a cup of cooled ginger tea and some chicken noodle soup.

"I can't eat that, Daryl."

"You'd be amazed how just two or three bites will make you feel, trust me," he insisted. He sat on the bed and watched her eat a few bites.

"Take this," he said, once she set the soup aside. Two of the pills she recognized as aspirin. The tiny blue pill, she didn't.

"What's the blue one?"

"A sedative," he said. "Doc Stookey gave it to me to give to you. There's one for Beth, too. Miss Jo already gave it to her. She's probably sleeping already."

"Thanks, Daryl. Thanks for the limo, for the piercing…for everything," Maggie said, squeezing his hand.

"Not a problem. If you need anything, let me know, okay?" he said. "I'll do whatever I can."

"I know. Thanks," she said.

"There you are," Josephine said, poking her head in. "I wondered where you'd got to."

"Daryl drugged me," Maggie said, with a small smile.

"I'm gonna go," he said, standing and nodding at Josephine as he strode from the room. He looked back once, nodded, and then left.

"Mama?" Maggie asked, as soon as Daryl was gone. "What was the letter Daddy wanted Dr. Stookey to give to you to hand off to Daryl? I've been meaning to ask but kept forgetting."

"You heard that, huh?"

Maggie waited while her mother stared out of the window. The day had been a nice, bright, sunny one, as though Heaven was happy to have gained one of the earth's better angels. The stars were starting to show as the last of the daylight faded.

"We've got 25 days to save the property," she said. "The law…"

"We don't have a male heir," Maggie said. "Otis don't count, he ain't married into the family."

"That's right. There's only you, me, and Beth. One of us must marry, or give the land over to one of Hershel's family. He's got a cousin in Collins Settlement who'd just sell the property to the government, turn a profit, and not give us a single penny from it. We still won't see a penny if the government takes the land."

Maggie's head was still thumping, but it began to lessen. She started to sit up, only to have her mother place a hand on her chest and ease her back down.

"That's where Daryl comes in," Josephine said. "Your father asked him to marry one of you girls to save the family land. He said I should choose one of you. I'm a widow. Widows aren't allowed, by law, to remarry for a year, or I'd find somebody just to save the land and free you girls from the responsibility."

"Which one of us did you pick?" Maggie said.

"Neither, of course," Josephine said, with a sad smile. "I'm not gonna force you into a marriage. I'm not selling my girls, not even for the land."

"This farm has been in Daddy's family for a hundred fifty years," Maggie pointed out. "We can't just lose it."

"Can you really ask Beth to get married now, at twenty years of age?" Josephine said. She looked so despondent. "I can't ask that of you, either."

"I'll do it, though," said Maggie. "I'm practically a spinster, anyway. If Daryl agrees, I'll marry him."

"I can't…"

"You're not asking, I'm volunteering," Maggie said.

Josephine forced a smile. "Maggie…you wouldn't be able to divorce unless you had a male child to name heir. I want you and Beth to marry for love, not…not convenience…not as some sham to keep the farm."

"I know, Mama, but it's like Daddy always said. 'Sometimes you gotta do what's right and not what's easy.' This is what's right, saving our farm. It's what Daddy wanted or he wouldn't have asked you to pick one of us."

"I haven't even given Daryl the letter yet," Josephine said. "I can't imagine asking such a thing of him. He loved your father like his own but to marry one of his daughters just to keep the family property?"

"Give him the letter," said Maggie. "Give him some time to make up his mind. Please, Mama. Promise me you'll give this a chance. For Daddy. For all of us."

Her mother nodded, even though it was clear she hated the circumstances, and kissed Maggie on the forehead. "Get some rest. We don't have to solve all of our problems tonight."

Maggie snuggled down in her blankets while her mother kissed her goodnight. The little blue pill was kicking in because she could feel sleep pulling hard at her.

God…married, she thought. Maggie Dixon.

The name had a weird ring to it. She'd been Maggie Greene her whole life. To go from being a Greene to any other name was odd but she'd do it. She'd do whatever she had to do to save the family land. She just wished she knew for sure that Daryl would agree. It was an awful lot to ask a man. Marry some woman he didn't love, someone he'd watched grow up, the daughter of his father figure, just to save some land he didn't need or even want? Asking him to marry a woman he didn't love was too much. She was sure he'd say no.

She lay on her side, in the gathering darkness. There was only the moon to filter through the window to give her light to see by. She'd grown up in this room. She'd resigned herself to never moving away from the house and having a family of her own, and she was okay with it. It was no longer expected that children would have to leave home once they reached adulthood. It wasn't like houses were a dime a dozen in any given settlement. She'd hoped Beth would have the life she doubted she'd ever have. Fall in love, move out, marry, have her children, have her life. She could still do all of that, but only if Daryl agreed to marry Maggie to save the family property.

If he did agree, though, she'd have Daryl as her husband. He'd sleep in this bed, the bed she'd grown up in. They'd make their babies here, in this house; grow old here. They'd die here, just as her father had, and his father before him, and so on, going back generations.

Her family had weathered the turn quite well in comparison to other families. She supposed she should be grateful for that. Many people lost everything and never recovered. The Greene's had soldiered on, so had the Dixon's. Theirs were old family names in the Settlement. One was highly respected. The other still bore the stains of disgrace from generations past. It didn't matter now. Will Dixon was dead from an overdose. Merle Dixon had been executed for the crime of murder. Daryl's mother had committed suicide when he was ten. There was only Daryl now. He had done what no Dixon had ever managed-he brought honor to the Dixon name.

He was a good man, Maggie had to admit. She didn't think of him in that way but she had to admit he was nothing like he'd been when she was a child. She could remember the wildling her father worked to tame. He'd had no table manners, no sense of decorum, a potty mouth. He'd been angry about everything, constantly lashing out. Maggie could remember her mother asking her father one night why he was trying so hard with some white trash like Daryl Dixon. She'd never forget her father's response: He ain't trash, my love, he's a kid. He's not beyond hope. He can change and I can see it happening already.

There was nothing left of the wild child who'd come to work on the Greene farm so many years ago. Daryl liked to keep to himself. He gave Maggie the impression he didn't think much of himself, still saw himself as the trash his mother had thought him to be at one point, even though he wasn't. He was quiet but well-spoken. He was respectful, disciplined, cultured, even, compared to the Dixons that had come before him. He was certainly kind and gentle. He was a good man and he'd make a good husband, and a solid provider. If he said yes.

Maggie's only problem was the idea of being with him in that way. She'd had her share of lovers. She'd been with men she thought she would someday marry. She'd even considered pursuing a soldier who'd teamed up with Genesis Settlement to fight another settlement, named Glenn Rhee, after a wild fling just before her brother died in that confrontation.

What would it be like to take Daryl to her bed, and into her body? He wasn't ugly. Far from it. He was quite handsome, especially in uniform. Still, there was no serious attraction. He was a family friend she'd grown up around and that was all. He was a man she saw maybe three or four times a year for trade, never more than ten minutes at a time. None of that mattered, though, not in the face of losing the family land. She'd cook for him, keep the house clean, fuck him, and have his children if it meant keeping their land.

She just hoped to God her mother would show him that letter.

She hoped to God he'd say yes.

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