Oh, look. It's only been a year, lol, but look what I decided to dust off and post?
Now this chapter isn't the best, it never was, but I decided to go ahead and post it anyway because it's been about 80% finished for 9 months out of that year and I realized I'm never going to love it, so.
Nevertheless, here you go. Hope you enjoy it.
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The Wonder That's Keeping the Stars Apart
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The sun was high, the blue sky clear and unfettered by clouds as the wagon lurched forward, the horses lazing along on the sunbaked ruts and swells of the path home.
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It was a glorious start to Daryl's new life, and a hot one at that. Already sweat coated his collar, slithered in beads down his back to pool at the waistband of his breeches. The reins threatened to slip through his fingers during Otis's occasional fits of orneriness. But the children were happy, laughing. Even Lizzie at the moment, thanks to the rambunctious quartet of piglets squealing in the back of the wagon and the calf trotting along in its dusty wake.
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"I know!" Mika wiggled in her seat to look up at him with wide eyes, her small fingers clenched in her skirt. "Rose."
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"Don't be stupid," Lizzie scoffed. "Pigs can't be named after flowers."
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"Why not?" Sam wondered with a frown, his small, sticky hand seeking out his sister's in consolation when her face fell.
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"Because," Lizzie answered simply and stubbornly. "They stink."
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"So?" Sam shrugged.
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Gathering up her own courage, Mika echoed her brother. "So?"
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"Papa," Lizzie huffed, identical spots of irritation coloring her cheeks as she crossed her skinny arms across her chest. "Tell them."
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Catching his new bride's gaze over the children's heads, Daryl shook his head and admonished his eldest, "Don't you be callin' nobody stupid, Lizzie Dixon. Least of all your sister. She's your blood and it ain't good manners anyway. 'Sides," he muttered, his eyes shying away and back to the unmarked road ahead of them, "ain't entirely true. You forgettin' 'bout Lilly? She don't always smell so good herself." As if to prove his point, the mare chose that moment to relieve herself in true stomach-turning fashion, and he grimaced even while the twins giggled and Lizzie reluctantly smiled.
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Sam's offerings likewise had a theme, all centered on the little boy's considerable sweet tooth, and the debate continued on with much laughter and groaning amongst the wagon's occupants until the horses crested one last gentle hill and the twin chimneys of the farmhouse loomed in the distance, the barn a dark shadow further afoot amid a cluster of towering cottonwoods that predated the homestead.
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It wasn't anything fancy; certainly not as grand and well-kept as the Greene farm. The whitewashed walls needed a fresh coat of paint and some of the roof's shingles needed replaced. The pretty bunches of flowers Ms. Irma had planted around the covered porch so long ago when she was young and full of fruitless dreams of filling its halls with children of her own had been all but strangled by weeds and the front door hung a little crookedly on its creaky hinges.
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But it was home, had been even before the old man left it to him and his brother on his death bed, and self-conscious as he was, Daryl refused to make any apologies. He let Otis and Lilly have free reign, and the horses seemed to catch a second wind, excitement making their nostrils flare wide and their tails twitch and slap against their hindquarters. Reaching out a hand to ruffle Mika's soft hair, he looked first to Lizzie then over at the woman sworn to share the rest of her life with him. "Gonna stop by the house first. Save you the walk from the barn."
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Predictably, Lizzie protested. "But Papa."
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"But Papa nothin'," Daryl delivered firmly. "Want you to help get Tara and…" He paused, a knot of uncertainty lodging in his throat. He didn't know what to call his new wife and still be sensitive to Lizzie's feelings on the matter, of which the child had plenty. Sam and Mika were easy. They'd accepted her as their new mother from the very first letter, but Lizzie was different. She was stubborn and still remembered the mama of her birth, and Daryl knew it was going to be an uphill battle, winning her over, and he recognized that his bride did, too. "Want you to help get everybody settled," he finally continued. "You do that and you got my permission to come help. Hear me?"
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"Yes, Sir," Lizzie dutifully answered.
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The new hired hand was waiting when Daryl pulled the horses up short.
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Glenn received each of the twins then the bag housing a mewling Tara with a wide, dimpled smile. "Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Dixon. Children." His expression faltered when Lizzie hopped down from the wagon without any assistance, brushing past him with little if any acknowledgement, and he turned on his heel, scurrying after her with Mika and Sam in close pursuit. "I would not…Miss Lizzie, please do not…Mr. Merle and Ms. Andrea…oh no."
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That left Daryl alone with his pretty bride and he slid his hat from head, combing anxious fingers through the limp hanks of hair that fell across his brow. "Reckon you might want to wait 'fore you go joinin' them."
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"Reckon so," she voiced her soft agreement, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly and her freckled cheeks pinkening beneath the heat of the sun. Loose, curly tendrils of her red hair kissed the damp nape of her neck, and her hands were clasped in her lap when she murmured a quiet suggestion. "Maybe you could show me the barn?"
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"The barn?" Daryl repeated dumbly. When her smile merely widened in response, he ducked his head to hide his own blush. "Right. The barn." He gave Otis's reins a tug, and the old gelding groaned and lurched forward. "Introduce you to Olivia. Might even run across Eugene. Know that mutt's 'round here somewhere."
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