Home Isn’t Always A Place by @leftmywingshome
Part 1 of They Don’t Make Fairy Tales Sweeter Than Ours
‘Guilt is the worst demon to bear, strangling you from the inside of your body. Apologize. Make amends. Let go. Breathe free.’ - Nikita Gill
Some people wear their guilt like an armor even when it’s misplaced. Daryl is letting go of his, he doesn’t have much of a choice, but it isn’t easy. Beth, on the other hand, has hers wrapped so tightly around her frail shoulders if it wasn’t there who would she be? Maybe it’s fate, the fact that they meet in the woods one day. And despite their differences, they have a lot in common- mainly an overwhelming guilt for their actions and a bitter loneliness for the isolation they’ve created for themselves. Can a friendship that starts at a funeral for a bird be the catalyst that helps them both find their way?
Beth makes her way through the woods- taking solace in nature. This is where she goes, where she’s always gone, to be completely alone. To be honest, though, she’s been living in self-made isolation for years. But this alone is different. It’s freeing and fills her up at the same time.
When she hears a child’s voice, the only thing that surprises her is that she wandered so far and crossed over into the Dixon’s property. Beau is talking animatedly to someone else and he’s very excited about something. She can hear that in his voice and it only adds to the feeling of being out here in the sunshine.
She moves between the trees and she sees Beau with a man she doesn’t know but recognizes. He looks like a Dixon. Daryl. The man she’s dubbed a guardian angel. Neither of them has noticed her so she takes a minute to consider him. And what she sees gives her a sweet little twist in her tummy. He’s handsome. Broad shoulders and muscular arms are evidence that he works hard doing something. A crossbow is slung over his shoulder. His unruly hair looks soft as the breeze ruffles it.
Right as his eyes raise to meet hers she sees the small bird that Beau is holding in his hands. And her heart sinks. Running over to where he’s standing she kneels in front of him.
“Oh, Beau! What did you do?” Beau’s small face is crestfallen. He ducks his head in shame and Beth notices the slingshot sticking out of his back pocket. Reaching out she takes the small bird into her hands.
“I wanted ta show my Uncle Daryl what a good shot I am Beth! He’s a hunter too and I jus,-” Beth can feel his shame rolling off of him in waves. He’s just a little boy and he wasn’t doing it to be cruel. She can handle the rabbits and squirrels, Carol actually makes a pretty tasty stew with them. But the birds…
“Beau, we talked about this. If there’s no reason to kill, you don’t. Rabbit and squirrels, well your mama makes use of those, but the birds…” she can feel Daryl’s eyes on her and glances in his direction. Blue eyes, like hers. But where hers are soft like the summer sky, his are intense. She sees something in his gaze that makes her feel like she does when she takes off at a full speed gallop on her horse. Or when she watches birds gather together and fly in a murmuration. There isn’t a name for a feeling like this. It just is. Looking back at Beau she holds up her hand where she cradles the bird.
“No more birds.” Beth gently admonishes the little boy.
“Okay Beth,” he says mournfully.
“You know besides you and DJ, these birds are the only thing in this whole wide world that makes me happy.” Beau nods his head solemnly.
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