ŗęd-ђąŋdęd ʝįɭɭ (wmadarling) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-07-20 21:20:00 |
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Kids were supposed to be allowed to have fun. Growing up was hard. Childhood only lasted so long which meant the perks should be enjoyed as long as possible. Rick was slowly managing to find a way to balance having a boy who was too mature for his age and a baby at the same time. He'd agreed to go to the park since it'd put a smile on his son's face he hadn't seen in too long. Carl was too serious for a young teenager. They had looked at parks until Tewinkle had pulled up. Their grounds were outside Costa Mesa in an unincorporated zone. It wasn't too far of a ride which made for a good bet. Judith didn't do well in cars. There was something about them she didn't care for and Rick was fine enough letting her have her way on it. He didn't care to drive too much when his legs worked fine. Walking was good for him. Good for the soul. Nature could heal a man faster than all the technology in the world. Rick settled back on the bench by the walking trail. He could barely see his kids in the distance on the unique, intricate playground, but he wasn't worried. Carl was among the biggest kids there; he'd die for Judith. She was going to be alright. They both were. He had no idea how he knew it. Rick simply did. There was a certainty in him which could not be denied where his children were concerned. Some people talked on hearing God in their heads as a 'still, small voice' while Rick Grimes heard the sounds of survival of the fittest. His people would survive. It wasn't a matter of faith for him. It was a matter of fact. "Seems another man's life," he muttered to himself, not looking as someone approached down the trail. California held its fair share of dangers. Rick would give it as much. He didn't worry overmuch about any of them all the same. They weren't anything compared to what he'd survived already. ~*~ She’d dreamed of Neverland again, the night before, of this rather different version - it was the same, but not, and she was the same, besides there being something darker about her. Something not as innocent, and it didn’t help that she dreamed of Hook again too. That completely cunning smile of his (you’ve become my new obsession), the smile that said he was destined to sail himself to Hell, on the waters of a red-hot boiling sea. It caused Wendy to awaken with a start, a knock-knock-knocking of her heart imploring her throat for answers about why these images had to pass through the halls of her psyche. Neverland was not a place she enjoyed, not even in dreams. Mostly because she knew she’d have to watch Hook’s death again - life was unkind, and would not grant her a reprieve from such things. Still, her stubborn streak was as solid as steel, and she decided to not let it ruin her day regardless. Once she had a free moment she changed into appropriate park attire (a flowered sundress and sandals), and she dared to not remove the frilly white nurse’s cap from Nana’s head (the dog didn’t actually think she was a dog, she knew she was a nurse) when she clipped the leash on her beloved childhood caregiver and got her settled in the car for a drive to the park. Which, of course, the humongous Newfoundland absolutely loved - and by the time they got to the park, she was ready to run around and have some fun. The trail Wendy selected was pleasant, and gave Nana opportunity to sniff and discover and explore. Then when it came time for a break she approached the man on the bench and gave him a smile, all sugared flowers atop a wedding cake. The posh lilt of an English accent, afternoon tea and cake, caressed her words when she asked, “Sorry to bother you, but is anyone else sitting here?” Nana plopped on her haunches, tongue lolling out. ~*~ No one else was around for a good ways. Rick knew she was talking to him. There was something strangely amusing about being asked by a woman distinctly un-American if she could have a rest beside him. It made him wonder if maybe he was wrong about how friendly people in California were in comparison to his old home in the South. It helped he was a sucker for a dog. Smiling at her, Rick gestured to the rest of the bench, "All free if you need to rest your feet a minute, ma'am. I'm only watching my kids from here. Don't want to get too close so I get accused of being smothering. This is as far as I'm willing to go. Compromise bench." His worn face showed more years than he had lived, but there was humor in his eyes and lingering in the lines around his mouth as he kept up himself friendly. Rick could remember how it had once been easy to be friendly with people. Neighborhoods were made up of people who all knew one another in one way or another either from church or work or school or family of some sort; everyone got together for at least one holiday a year -usually Fourth of July seeing as it was a national celebration rather than a religious or personal one- to say hello, go over changes in their lives, and pass around their favorite recipes. The Farmer's Market was a little like that on the weekends in the OC. Rick saw plenty of repeat customers. Many of them had gotten into the habit of bringing their kids to see Judith and he had one or two who thought to bring her a treat from another stall. It went without saying Rick was a wealth of information on who sold what and how they cared for their goods so he tended to refer people around if he could. He saw The Market as his chance at having a neighborhood rather than as a place filled with competitors. ~*~ Ma’am! Now wasn’t he polite? Wendy thanked him, sitting on the bench and unzipping the convenient travel water bowl for dogs, setting it up with efficient ivory hands (that didn’t often see the sun - she’d remembered to put on some of the correct SPF before leaving) and unscrewing the top off a bottle so she could pour Nana a drink. Which the nursemaid so gratefully began to lap at, her thirst needing to be quenched. Then Wendy unearthed her own water bottle, because it was a bit hot outside and she too was feeling somewhat parched. It was at that moment, however, her grin turned starsugar and she seemed elated when she spoke next. “Oh! You look familiar...have you got a booth at the Farmer’s Market?” she inquired, musicbox harmonious and quite enthusiastic. She was a frequent patron, and often went with her friend Meg to pick up fresh produce, cage-free eggs, honey, flowers that she could put all in her home, or whatever else she needed. “If not, forget I said anything about that,” she quipped. “But it’s lovely out here, isn’t it?” Bluebell eyes cut toward where there were children playing a little in the distance, and she gestured with her bottle, “Which ones are yours?” ~*~ "I do, yes, I'm there every weekend. Rick Grimes. I sell all organic produce, some fruits, and herbs. I have some oils I'm putting out for salads or cooking, too. It's a good place to be. Good way to raise kids." The world was so dark. He could sometimes hardly remember how it was to look up and see nothing more than blue sky and sun. Rick's vision was predominantly shadowed by death, what-ifs, and might-have-beens. He raised a hand to point at his boy playing with Judith on the swings. They looked as if they were hardly related due to the age difference, but Rick could see Lori in them. If Lori were alive, she'd have remarked on how she could see Rick in them, wasn't that the way of things? "My boy there is the tall one with the dark hair, Carl. He's pushing my daughter. She's in the baby swing. Her name's Judith. She's at that stage where everything is exciting. 8 months. Ready to go anywhere, see everyone. She likes to be at the Market with me on weekends. Waves at people." He thought the young woman was a nice sort all around. Caring for an animal was often harder than caring for a person. Babies made people feel an instinctual need to nurture them. It took a special person to remember to bring a bowl for water for their dog on a hot day. Rick couldn't remember what sort it was called though he thought there'd been movies starring a dog with the same look years back. Funny ones. Lori had been a sucker for a movie with animals. They'd watched more than a few at home alone, no one there save themselves and their son. The world had been easier when it'd been made up of the three of them. Rick turned slightly toward her, "What sort of dog is yours? Seems I remember a movie with one in it. Can't recall the name. Been a long time since I watched any movies." ~*~ “Nice to meet you. I’m Wendy, Wendy Darling,” she introduced herself, and she made a mental note of what the gentleman had at his booth - she would most certainly be stopping by the next time she went, shopping basket in hand and ready to be filled. “I could use some oils for cooking, I think. That sounds delightful.” After all, she lived with two boys - who weren’t really boys, per se, even if Katou was still quite young and not even eighteen years old yet. Jack was just boyish in general, with his vagabond sort of charm. One svelte knee tucked over the other, and she fondly pat Nana’s back while she continued to drink - all that fur meant she got so hot in the summertime; she also probably needed a bit of a haircut soon. “She’s a Newfoundland,” Wendy explained. “Actually, she’s...” This man frequented the same network she did, didn’t he? It was a specific sort of familiarity, so she was nearly certain of it. “She’s kind of like a nurse. Or, well - “ Wendy laughed, as Nana’s ears flicked indignantly. “She is a nurse. Quite good at treating colds and coughs and the like.” Miss Darling took a sip of water, continuing. “And she watches out for my housemates. One nearly died, before, and she woke up me and our other housemate just in time.” That had been terrible - sometimes Wendy didn’t mind those dreams at all, and then other times they were like poisonous thorns stuck in her sides. ~*~ Animals were often better than people. Rick didn't mind thinking of the dog as a nurse at all. To him, it made a Helluva lot more sense than some of the things he read on the network. People were made up of all sorts in the OC. They were kinder and wilder and stranger in a way he wasn't used to though he did enjoy the place more than being back at home in Georgia. There was nothing for him there. All which remained in the South for him was death; Rick wanted his children to have a chance at life. "Wouldn't mind having a nurse dog myself. My kids could use the help. They're always into something. Carl is---too serious for his age, but he's prone to being a typical teenager which keeps me from worrying. Judith has no fear. She's quiet for a baby. More quiet than I like. Hearing her laugh soothes my spirit if that makes a bit of sense." Rick shook his head. It was hard to determine if he made sense anymore or not. Some days he woke up thinking he was possessed of a kind of madness. His life didn't feel as if it were really his own. There was a lingering sensation something was missing which was more important than his wife. Thinking that way, thinking as if anything could be more important than the loss of his wife, made Rick reach a point of insanity where he nearly wanted to tear the world apart with his bare hands at the unfairness of it all. Life was too hard for a simple man. "My friend had family in Sicily. They import me the very best extra virgin olive oil anyone can find. Totally pure. No chemicals. No additives. I bottle it and spike it with herbs. It suns for forty-five to sixty days to steep in the herbs and then I sell it at the market. Don't charge overmuch for it considering the quality, but it is the most expensive thing I sell." ~*~ “It makes a lot of sense,” Wendy assured him, with a soft smile, and she knew what Rick meant about the soothing sounds of a baby’s laughter - especially your own. She didn’t have any children in this life, but she often thought of her daughter Jane, whom she had memories of raising in England, in a house very much like the one Wendy herself had grown up in. In that sense, the dreams did feel more like memories - because there was a profound ache, of the motherly sort, that wished she could further see how Jane had turned out. “Well, Nana’s a friendly nurse dog and I bet she could get even your Carl to crack a smile. She somehow manages it with my housemate, who is...you know...very much a teenager.” That whole ‘parents just don’t understand, too cool for school’ chip on his shoulder, though he’d grown up a little as his own dreams progressed. Nana woofed quietly, curiously, as if she knew she was being talked about. Honestly, she seemed to know a lot of things. She was an intelligent canine. Wendy fondly scratched her behind her ears, around the edges of her frilly white cap. “That olive oil sounds amazing,” she sighed. “I’ll definitely be purchasing a bottle next time I pop ‘round to the market and you’re there. You can use it in just about anything too, which is fantastic. I try to go all organic with what I buy anyway. Honestly, after I moved to the States, the strangest thing to get used to was probably all the preservatives in everything.” British food was accused of being dull and bland in comparison, but it just didn’t contain the hormones and things, that went into a lot of the food here. ~*~ "Fast food will kill someone quicker than anything as far as I know. It seems to be nothing more than chemicals and compounds rather than anything what looks like it used to be food." Rick chuckled slightly at his distaste for it. He couldn't care less what happened with the fast food chains of America. They weren't places he frequented unless forced. His old partner back in Georgia had been fond of greasy spoons. Rick blamed him for the extra weight he'd picked up before Judith was born. There was nothing worse for health than carrying extra pounds of fat around. He felt uncomfortable in his own body when he did, but, luckily, he rarely had to worry over it since he had a naturally high metabolism along with a penchant for hard work. "I never been outside of the States, but I have a feeling where you're from the food is liable to be a lot healthier. You move this way for school? Family? Don't mind me if I'm prying. You can tell me to keep my nose to myself. I understand how it is to need to keep to oneself. Some stories aren't meant to be shared." His wasn't one he'd wish anyone to have to live through with him. It was hard enough on him when it was his life. There was no sense in wishing pain on someone else who had no dog in his fight. ~*~ Wendy didn’t mind the questions at all! She was always interested in making new friends as well, and if she were honest with herself, the children were just too adorable. Especially the baby - it was heartwarming to see a big brother so devoted to his sister too. In her family, she was protective over John and Michael (they were all somewhat close in age), but they were back in England. A certain homesickness pervaded her thoughts, seeping in sometimes, but at least the modern age let her Skype them on occasion which was better than nothing. “It is a lot healthier, some of it,” she giggled sweetly. “Minus the fish and chips, and the scones and clotted cream.” Oh, and yet she loved a good afternoon tea quite a bit! There was something so dignified about the practise of it. “But oh, no, it’s actually not that interesting of a story,” she tucked a bits of tawny curls behind her ear, hair that had fallen free, “I earned a Fulbright scholarship and moved here to attend university at Berkeley. After I graduated, I became certified as a paralegal and started work at the firm I’m at now. Comparative Literature’s not exactly the most lucrative degree to obtain, but I hope to write books one day.” It was a dream of hers. Far off, like being behind glass, out of reach - she could see it, but couldn’t touch it quite yet. “I’m originally from Surrey. It’s lovely, though I may be a bit biased.” ~*~ Everyone should be biased over their hometown in Rick's estimation. There was something inherently personal about the place a person originated. It was where they'd started their life. They were shaped in part by that beginning moment. A child born in poverty could understand the value of a dollar more than one born with the proverbial silver spoon in its mouth while a boy from any Southern state was bound to love his momma more than his daddy. There were stereotypes which rang true as a result of birthright. Rick thought it was alright to have those traits be truthful across the majority of people. He liked the surety of something. His world had been so uncertain he couldn't help except to appreciate when it was stable. The things which could be counted on were too precious to push aside as if they were nothing. Rick would never take his children for granted nor would he ever forget where he came from even if it wasn't where he felt he belonged for the rest of his days. "It's alright to be biased toward your hometown. Natural. I like---how certain it is to be from somewhere. Claiming a heritage is half of most people's identity. It helps me when I forget my way in life. I'm originally from Georgia. Grew up there. Thought I'd raise my kids there the same as I was raised. Life has a funny way of working out in the least expected manner though which brought me out here. Some place different. Some place to start over. It's alright to love the place you live so long as you never forget the place you come from, I think." He felt suddenly older than even his years. It was as if all the lessons he'd taken at Hershel's hands to become a farmer were catching up to him to remind him he wasn't a young man. Rick had started over in a time in his life when he should have been focusing on truly burrowing in. There were more years behind him than he'd have ahead. He should have been thinking on his future, his retirement, how he was going to support his kids when he couldn't work a real job again. Instead he was living off his wife's death while playing at being a farmer. Forcing a smile, he offered, "I would be glad to get you a set of sample bottles ready of the oils if you want to try some before you invest in a big bottle. Little goes a long way. I think my kids could use the chance to get to see Nana at the Market, too. They've never seen a Newfoundland much less one who's a nurse." ~*~ “Life’s funny, isn’t it?” Wendy agreed. “I’ve been here for some time, and I can’t really imagine living anywhere else. Not even going back to England - I’ve got family there, but family here too. You root yourself, and before you know it, the roots are dug in so deep you can’t really pull them out.” That was what it was like for her, and the occupants of her little cottage-style house in Garden Grove. A family, but not by blood necessarily. Something still iron-clad, though. Something strong. He was so nice too, wasn’t he? Offering sample bottles of oil? Her heart rang like a silverbell in her chest; it didn’t take much to get her beaming. Sometimes the simplest joys, or the smallest offers of kindness, were the most potent. “That would be perfect,” she said. “I’ll bring Nana to the market. And you’ll be at your usual spot on the weekend, then?” Nana looked quite pleased, woofing again. It was a rumble of sound, low, from such a large dog; she probably weighed more than Wendy did. ~*~ "I like the sound of that. Digging the roots in so deep they can't be pulled out. I'm hoping to do that with my kids. Teach them how to be good people who live good lives. They've seen too much bad already." His thoughts went to the darkness in his mind which wouldn't dissipate. It had nothing to do with the strange weather they'd had the week before either. Rick had seen strange weather. He'd lived through tornadoes, floods, Summer storms the likes of which no man could imagine until they were upon him as if they had provoked the wrath of God. Rick hadn't seen anything in California like it though. He'd never imagined weather that bad could come to the Golden State with its reputation of continuous sunshine. Rick stood as he noticed Carl pulling Judith up from the swing, she was liable to be getting tired. Babies could only handle so much fun in one day. They got fussy faster than Rick remembered on occasion while on others? He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have a daughter so good as Judith. She rarely cried. She was curious, friendly, and had a willingness to eat anything available to her which was unusual in an infant. There had been a time -Rick remembered it clearly- when Carl wouldn't eat anything other than dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets with ketchup. Judith might skip that stage. He could keep hoping. "Looks as if I'm about to have to head out with my two. You can find me at the same spot, yes, ma'am, Miss Wendy. I'm on the corner beside a nice lady who sells every type of citrus fruit you can imagine. She swears my oil cures her skin problems. I don't have the heart to tell her it's likely the ointment her doctor is prescribing for her. The kids will be glad to meet Nana. I have to say it's been a pleasure for me myself. I need to get out more, I guess. Look forward to seeing you!" He headed over to Carl to take Judith from him, prepared to let her press her hot, chubby face into his neck to fall into the easy sleep of babes on the walk back to the car. Rick figured he was doing well with the nice folk he'd met to date in the OC. They were a considerable bit friendlier than he'd expected. |