69AN: I have a confession to make. I think in Chapter 2, I declared that June was 8 and Jack was almost 2. My mind has rejected that quite entirely. It just doesn't work for me. I've messed up their ages several places because that's just not how old my mind wants them to be.
I have come to ask forgiveness. If I were writing this for publication or something, I'd go back and change everything. I'm not writing it for publication, though (real publication), so I'm just going to ask to be forgiven for my colossal failure of choosing the ages of these children, and I'm going to ask permission to write them as what works for me. My mind has pretty solidly decided that June is around 4, and Jack is somewhere around a year. Again, I'm sorry. I just have to ask forgiveness for that whole mess. I hope you understand. (I'm also totally not going to pretend that's the last massive hot mess mistake I'll make. I'm a mess in general. In fact, I'm just sorry for all the messes because I'm sure there's like a thousand going on in this story. But at least it's moving again, so there's that, I guess.)
And all I'll say about anything else is y'all know how wretched I am with timelines, so any and all suspension of disbelief (at all times) is greatly appreciated.
At any rate, here's another chapter. I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Daryl had requested a dessert that Carol called apple tarts—though they really weren't apple tarts at all in the traditional sense—and she'd sent him to get the ingredients while she'd bathed the children early so they could play while she prepared dinner.
Since Daryl had complained much of the day about an uneasy stomach, and had mentioned the fact that he'd care a great deal for her pasta salad for their evening meal, Carol decided to prepare the pasta salad with a few porkchops and some string beans to keep things simple and light. She had everything started when Daryl returned with the few ingredients that she'd need to arrange for the apple tarts to come out of the oven not long after they'd finished their meal.
"House smells amazing," Daryl said as he came in the door. Immediately, June greeted him, practically wrapping herself around his leg, as though he'd been gone for days instead of a short period of time—and as though she hadn't spent much of the afternoon playing with him.
Carol smiled to herself the moment she saw him. In addition to the paper bags he carried, weighted down with food, he carried two bright yellow daisies.
"That's what took you so long," Carol said when Daryl had shed the weight of the grocery bags.
He smiled at her and offered her one of the daisies and a kiss. He offered the other daisy, and a kiss as well, to June.
"Lil' sunshine for my sunshines," Daryl said.
June looked very pleased with her flower and, honestly, Carol was happier to see her excitement than she was to even have a flower of her own.
"Thanks, Daddy!" June declared, allowing herself to be lifted for a bear hug.
"We can put them in water, June," Carol offered. "They'll be beautiful on the table, don't you think? Can you take them to the sink? I'll bring the vase."
Carol offered her flower over to June and the little girl took it and trotted quickly toward the sink to wait for her. Carol walked over to her china cabinet and selected one of the vases that she kept there. She had several because Daryl was always surprising her with a flower, here or there, to brighten up various corners of the house.
Daryl caught her arm and she turned around to find him smiling at her. She knew that smile, and just seeing it on his face made her stomach tighten, and she felt the familiar tug as other parts of her body craved his touch because of a simple expression.
It didn't matter how many years they'd been together. Almost fifteen years together, and he could still make her entire body react with just a look.
"What is it?" Carol breathed out, a little ashamed that her breath caught the way it did.
Daryl leaned and kissed her. It was a good kiss—the best kind of kiss. The kind that made her wish that she didn't still have apple tarts to make, that they didn't have dinner to eat, and that she didn't have a kitchen to clean. It was the kind of kiss that made her wish the kids were already tucked into bed so that she could show her husband just how much she appreciated him.
But it was early, and he knew that.
Still, his cheeks were blushed when he pulled out of the kiss, and Carol appreciated that her husband, even after all these years, still clearly found something about her that he liked a great deal, too.
He held up what he was holding in his hand—something he'd pulled from the bags. It was a small, white paper bag, and it was folded over several times.
"The flowers were just somethin' extra," he told her. "But—this is why I was a little longer getting back than I meant to be." He offered her the little bag and she took it.
"What is it?" She asked.
"It's a present, woman," Daryl said with a laugh. "You gotta open it."
Carol couldn't help but smile to herself. Daryl often brought her presents. They were simple things—hairpins, lipsticks, candies. It didn't matter to Carol. She loved everything that Daryl brought her, no matter how simple or how elaborate, because he always did it on his own.
Carol unrolled the white paper bag and peeked inside.
"Are they candies?" She asked. "Oh—what's that smell? Daryl—they smell wonderful!"
"Take one out," Daryl directed.
Carol did as he directed. She held the little pink rose in her hand that nearly covered half her palm. The scent of roses came with it.
"Oh—that smells wonderful," Carol said.
"You think?" Daryl asked.
"I love it! But what is it?" Carol asked.
"They're soaps," Daryl said. "I stopped by the store. Told Walt that I needed something real nice for my wife. I told him—she was expecting and was feeling a little stressed lately. Mostly on account of the fact that her brother-in-law…and her husband, too…could be stupid sometimes."
"You didn't say all that," Carol said.
Daryl laughed to himself. He shook his head.
"No, but I thought it," he said. "I went to buy antacids. My stomach's givin' me a fit. I did tell Walt that I wanted something real nice for my wife because she was expecting and feeling a little tense. He said he'd just gotten these little soaps in. They're all scented and he said that if you take a bath with 'em, they're guaranteed to make you feel better. Might even make you forget the people that complicate your life—like me."
"Daryl—you don't complicate my life," Carol said, shaking her head at him.
"You're not mad about—that whole thing with Judy Rigors today?" Daryl asked.
Carol laughed to herself.
"I don't care enough about Judy Rigors to be mad, Daryl," Carol said.
"Mama!" June called.
"In a minute, June," Carol offered. "I'm coming." She turned her attention back to Daryl. "Daryl—Judy Rigors is an unhappy woman. She's been making a fool of her husband for years. If she were happy, she wouldn't do such a thing."
Daryl smiled at her, his arms encircling her and pulling her close to him.
"You wouldn't make a fool of me," he said.
"Never," Carol said with a smile. "Because I'm the happiest woman in town."
"Mama!" June called.
"I'm talkin' to your Mama right now, June," Daryl said, putting just enough sternness behind his voice that June would detect it. "Settle down an' she'll be with you in a minute."
"I need to check the porkchops," Carol said. "And—I've got to make those tarts."
Daryl wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her with him. He kissed her again.
"Just a moment more," he said, before kissing her once more. "After dinner—while you washin' up? I'ma run you a hot bath. And you gonna bathe. Relax. I'ma get the kids ready and in bed."
"You don't have to, Daryl," Carol said.
"I know I don't," Daryl said. "I want to. Want you to enjoy your new soap."
"They're too pretty to use, Daryl," Carol protested.
"They were bought to be used," Daryl said. "I expect 'em to be used. Besides—I'm gonna benefit from 'em when you bring that sweet scent to bed with you."
Carol smiled at him.
"I've got a nightgown I made," Carol offered. "One you haven't seen yet."
Daryl was clearly pleased.
"Somethin' that good to look forward to," Daryl said, "I'll run you a bath every night, woman. Get you soaps as quick as Walt can get 'em in."
Carol laughed to herself. Her face burned warm.
"You tease," she said. "Here—take these to the bathroom for me. And check on Jack? I'm going to get those tarts made and make sure your porkchops don't dry out."
"One more kiss," Daryl said.
"I'm serious, Daryl, they're going to burn," Carol warned.
"I'd choke down dry meat for a week," Daryl offered, "for one more kiss."
Carol laughed to herself, but she indulged him. And, since she was pretty sure the porkchops would be overdone by the time she got there to get them out of the oven, she did her best to make the kiss one that would be good enough to keep him from noticing that part of his dinner was at least a little spoiled.
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Carol thought that her house was nicer than most, even if nobody else might agree. Daryl worked on the house almost steadily. When one project was done, he very nearly began another immediately. He may not always be able to afford the nicest things for their home, but he tried his best to make sure that Carol had just about anything else that any woman around town could brag about having in her home. The new additions he'd added to the house, as well, gave them a little more space and, best of all, they'd given Carol and Daryl their own bathroom that was separate from the one the children shared with anyone who visited the house.
Their bathroom had a white clawfoot tub and Carol liked soaking in it when Daryl was able to keep the kids and give her a little time to spare for pampering herself a little. Of course, she was always careful to make sure that she pampered him, just a little, in return and to show her appreciation.
There were very few men, and she knew that, that would offer to take care of the children, or even to do other small household chores, for their wives to have time for soaking in the tub and, as Daryl had said it, for breathing in the relaxing scents of the flowered soaps.
Carol had chosen one of the rose scented soaps for the night, and she washed thoroughly before she soaked in the scented water. She hated that the little designs carved into the soap faded some with the washing, but she appreciated the fact that the scent was relaxing. It also made her feel especially delicate and feminine to smell so nice.
After her bath, when the water was running cool and she could hear Daryl bumping around in the bedroom—a clear indication that he was going to be ready for bed soon—Carol dried off and brushed her teeth. She ran a comb through her wet hair, and she rubbed moisturizing cream into the skin of her face and neck before she slathered her body in a sweet-smelling lotion that blended well with the rose scent of the soap.
She wanted to surprise Daryl with an extra nice experience of taking his wife to bed.
The night gown that she'd sewn for herself was made of a very soft cotton. It had been expensive, and it was an extravagant creation for herself, but she'd justified it by saying that, really, it was for Daryl as much as it was for her. He always supported her sewing new things—even when the women around town had said, for instance, that it wasn't right for her wear some of the things that she chose—and Carol had ordered the pattern pack of slips and nightwear with the thought in mind of surprising Daryl with something a little more alluring than her usual simple nightgowns.
She had only made this one so far—out of soft robin's egg blue colored cotton—and Daryl hadn't seen it yet. She'd only tried it on once, and that had been as soon as she'd finished making it.
Carol slipped it on and tugged it down. Immediately, the nightgown told her something she hadn't realized before—something that made her heart start to beat rapidly in her chest. Although it fit, it was quite snug. It was much snugger than it had been before—especially where it hugged tightly around her breasts and belly.
And, suddenly, Carol was almost as excited for Daryl to see that as she was for him to see the soft cotton gown itself.
