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Almost a week later, Rick and Shane had set out to finally cut Randall loose. After Adeline and Hershel managed to patch up his injury as best as they could, the group decided he was fit to walk. So with a few canned beans and a bottle of water, they were going to send him on his way, 18 miles out.
Adeline sat beside her daughter at the dinner table, watching as she drew on a piece of paper, many coloured crayons littering the oak with previously failed pictures crumpled up and thrown away in a fit. Lola was hoping that the drawing she had created of her family would cheer Beth up. The young girl didn't know what was wrong with her, just that she was grieving her mother.
The pair could hear the siblings arguing, Mikael, Maggie and Beth seemed to having a screaming match, and because they were sat so close to the kitchen, they could also hear Lori and Andrea having a spat of their own.
"It looks great, sweetheart. Beth will love it, I'm sure." Adeline spoke, placing a kiss on the top of Lola's head. "You can give it to her when. . . they quiet down."
"What are they arguing about? Why's Dad angry?" The ten-year-old questioned, not used to her father's shouting, completely unaware that Beth wanted to take her own life.
But Adeline couldn't exactly explain that to a child so she settled with, "Just adult things, baby, nothing you need to stress about."
"Beth's not an adult, she's only sixteen." The young girl spoke matter of factly, raising her eyebrows at her mother.
The woman let out an amused scoff, "You're right, she's not an adult, but she's older than you, and so am I, and that means you have to listen to me. So when I tell you not to stress, don't stress. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Okay. Why don't you go play with Carl? He's out on the porch."
The blonde left her crayons and paper at the table and followed her mother's orders, heading out to the porch in search of Carl.
The picture was adorable in Adeline's eyes, all members of the farm— including Annette, Shawn, Otis, and one of her favourite horses, Luna, had all been drawn on the page, in front of the very slanted and contrasting version of the house. It looked like a ten-year-old had drawn it, but in the mother's eyes, it was perfect.
Out on the porch, Lola had sat down beside Carl, who was— according to the young girl— doing nothing but being boring as he sat on the steps with his nose buried in one of his comics.
