Here it is! My entry to the Sunny Funny Ficathon 09!!
Many thanks to CaptScarlett, who invited me to join the ficathon in the first place, and to Scarlett Jaimie, who gave me this quote to use for the ficathon: "It's not dying I'm talking about, it's living." from the book series Lonesome Dove. Other guidlines: Rhett's POV sometime after the end of the book.
And this is what I did with it! Hope you all like, it was certainly a joy to write!
for the lovers,
the dreamers
and me.
Three and a half months… thereabouts…
One hundred and three days… not that he had been counting…
Two thousand four hundred and seventy two hours--
Rhett Butler pretended he didn't know it, but that was how long it had been since he had laid eyes on his wife, Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler. He had left their Atlanta homestead that fateful day three and half months ago and his last image had been of her tear streaked face, her green eyes pooling over, her small pale hands clutching his handkerchief.
And now… she was back.
But just what she was doing in Charleston he was sure he didn't know.
It was a brisk January morning and he was on his way to visit an old friend from his childhood, hoping to find another foothold in the wall of a new life in his home town. Trying to make amends in Charleston was proving to be much more difficult than he'd anticipated. Regaining the trust of Atlanta's people had been simple, but this time--and he grimaced at the blunt truth of this statement--he didn't have a beautiful little girl with which to woo them. This time he had himself and only himself, which he was used to… but for some reason, it didn't feel quite right. Several years of marriage had made him accustomed to other people's company, even if they were children or darkies, and it was different. He had thrived during the Reconstruction of the South, but now he was facing a new type of reconstruction altogether.
Now there was no one to swindle, no one to kiss up to, no one to do business with. He was a young man again, freshly expelled from West Point without much of his own, and he had to create his own path again. He wasn't complaining, hell no, God knew he loved a challenge…
A challenge.
What the hell was she doing here anyway?
He considered just trotting by on his horse and pretending he hadn't seen her, but those who knew they were husband and wife would find it a bit odd if they didn't even acknowledge each other on the street… Rhett sighed inwardly and slowed his horse, pulling over to meet the passing carriage on the side of the road.
Scarlett sat inside, swathed in dark blue damask silk and a matching plumed bonnet. It seemed only fitting that after losing him, Scarlett would still want to appear in public dressed to the hilt. It irritated and amused him at the same time. Her face was a bit pale and drawn, but strategically placed rouge did much to alleviate this issue; he only noticed because he knew her face by memory, every curve of her cheek, each indentation on her lips, every ebony eyelash--and no matter how much rouge she wore or how much she painted her lips, he would always be able to tell exactly how she was feeling from one look into those verdant eyes. And his quick glance told him that she was unhappy. Deeply unhappy. Instinctively he felt a twinge of guilt for knowing he had put that look there, but then his masculine pride stepped up and told him that the damned creature had brought this all upon herself.
"Uncle Rhett!" It was Wade's happy cry that jerked him out of his broodings about Scarlett. He had been so busy trying to read her every movement for underlying signs of God knows what that he hadn't even noticed that she wasn't alone in the carriage. Wade and Ella sat across from their mother, dancing with delight upon seeing their stepfather.
And, to Rhett's dismay, when Scarlett spoke, her voice conveyed none of the sorrow he read in her eyes. "Rhett, darling, how are you?" she crooned. "Oh, give me a kiss!" She turned a painted cheek up to him and he inwardly cursed her to hell. He knew just as well as she that it would be rude not to greet her in such a way in public. Begrudgingly, he leaned down and pecked her cheek quickly. She beamed up at him and continued speaking at breakneck pace. "Oh, honey, you've just got to come and visit us--we're down at the Charleston Hotel. Oh I know it's unconventional, but I didn't want to drop in on your mother at such a short notice--you are staying with your mother, aren't you, dear?"
"Yes, I am," Rhett replied with a forced smile that matched Scarlett's own mocking endearments. He knew that she would probably love to do nothing better than drop in on his mother, but he thanked Providence that she had refrained from doing so. He had yet to explain the situation with Scarlett to his mother and wanted her to hear it from him.
"Well then you've simply got to come and pay us a visit!" she trilled gaily, as if she was the belle of the county again without a care in the world.
"Yes, Uncle Rhett, please!" Ella called from inside the carriage, her straight locks of nondescript brownish bouncing at her shoulders.
And suddenly Scarlett's plan was plain as day. Oh, it was good. It was devious, it was wicked. It was despicable, maddening and utterly simple. It was pure Scarlett. Using his obvious fondness for children as bait to cajole him into meeting with her on her "spontaneous" trip to Charleston! He almost had to laugh. Oh, this was just too good…
"I will," he said, tipping his hat to her. "I'll see you all later today, Mrs. Butler. This afternoon?"
"Oh, baby, does it have to be that long?" Scarlett pouted. "If I have to wait one more minute I'll simply burst into tears!"
"No you won't," Rhett answered sharply, and he enjoyed the scandalized look on her face as she snapped her mouth shut. "I'll see you at four o'clock this afternoon, Mrs. Butler. Good day."
He turned his horse and cantered away, but not before he gave himself the satisfaction of glimpsing her livid face as he left her in his dust.
X
It had always been Rhett's intention to present his stepchildren with small gifts that afternoon, but at the suggestion of his old friend John, Rhett arrived at the Charleston Hotel at four o'clock with a large bouquet of yellow roses, too. He hadn't been able to tell John the whole story of what had happened between himself and Scarlett, but John did sense that things weren't--Rhett winced as he thought of the pun-- "coming up roses" for them at the moment. So John had advised bringing her a gift to get back into her good books. Rhett had laughed out loud at the comment for two reasons: one, because he had no desire to be in Scarlett's "good books", and two, because he'd given her gifts dozens of times before, back when his only aim in life was to win her affection. But ultimately, he knew how improper the public would find it if he arrived at a meeting with his wife without a sweet present of some kind--especially since they hadn't seen each other in four months. Normally, he wouldn't have given a rat's ass as to what the public thought, but if he was going to have any chance of being respected in Charleston, his little minx of a wife wasn't giving him much of a choice.
So Rhett had resignedly bought the flowers at the most expensive florist in Charleston, figuring he'd present them to Mammy when she let him in. But it wasn't Mammy who answered the door when he arrived at Scarlett's suite--it was Prissy.
"Hello, Cap'n Butler!" she greeted cheerfully. Despite the fact that she was now a grown woman and expecting a child of her own by the looks of it, Prissy's voice still carried that high-pitched, childish quality that Rhett knew had always driven Scarlett out of her mind. A warm smile came to Rhett's lips as he thought of Prissy's incessant presence near his wife, and he took grim pleasure in knowing that Scarlett had to endure the silly girl's ramblings.
Prissy gave a clumsy curtsy and he swore he saw her dark cheeks blush when he presented her with the roses. "Cap'n Butler, I kain go 'ceptin' gifts from white fokes!"
"Then think of it as a gift from a friend," Rhett answered, a stepped past her into the room.
Wade and Ella were playing on the floor of the living room. Ella gave a delighted squeal upon seeing him and rushed to hug his legs, nearly toppling him over. He gave a hearty laugh and squatted down to greet both of his stepchildren. Scarlett, hearing the noise, had entered the room and now stood coldly in the doorway.
"Hello, dear," she said quietly, and Rhett knew before looking that she had dropped the twittering wife act she'd put on in the carriage. Here, there was no one to fool. Here, the haunted look in her eyes was much more pronounced…and unnerving. She had changed her dress--he cursed himself for noticing--into a green velvet number.
"Scarlett," he said unemotionally, with a nod of his head.
"Did you bring us presents, Uncle Rhett?" Ella asked, her monkey-like face aglow with excitement.
"Ella!" Scarlett reproved.
Rhett laughed heartily. He had always enjoyed the forthrightness of children; he found it a much better way of communicating than the roundabout evasiveness of adults. "You know, Ella," he said, "it just so happens that I do have a present for you! And one for Wade, too."
He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small porcelain case. Ella anxiously opened it and gave a small little gasp at what lay inside. Her stubby fingers pulled out two ivory hairpins.
"A friend of mine was recently in Beijing and brought them back for me, knowing there would be a little lady like yourself who could use some beautiful new hairpins," Rhett explained. Ella hugged him in thanks. What Rhett did not mention was that he'd had the hairpins for over a year. One of Scarlett's carpetbagger cronies had bought them there and given them to Rhett upon his return, assuming that he'd give them to Scarlett. But his wife, Rhett decided, already had enough hairpins, and so he gave them to someone who could--and would--actually use them.
Rhett noticed that Scarlett was staring at the hairpins almost enviously. "How lovely," she said hollowly, with an equally empty smile. "But a bit much, don't you think, dear? She'll probably lose them or break them before we even get back home!"
"And how many of my gifts did you so flippantly discard after one use, Mrs. Butler?" Rhett challenged.
Scarlett opened her mouth, then shut it again, settling herself into a nondescript paisley armchair and crossed her arms over her chest.
Chuckling inwardly, Rhett took out a wooden sword from the small box he'd brought with him and presented it to a flabbergasted Wade. "You're getting a little big for your other toy sword, aren't you?" Rhett asked with a smile. Wade nodded, too awed to speak. He'd had his first wooden sword since before he could walk, and the image of him wielding it now was a little ridiculous since it was hardly longer than his forearm. But this new sword…
"Thank you, Uncle Rhett," Wade said quietly, looking up at the man he admired so much.
Rhett tousled his hair and grinned. "You're welcome, son."
Suddenly getting an idea, Wade jumped around excitedly. "Uncle Rhett, will you have a swordfight with me?"
"A swordfight?"
"Mother never wants to swordfight with me," he conspiratorially stage-whispered.
"Well Wade, ladies don't often get into swordfights. And your mother is a very great lady." Rhett pronounced the last words very clearly and with a mocking light dancing in his eyes. He watched Scarlett's eyes grow huge with fury.
"True gentlemen don't often get into swordfights either, Wade," Scarlett countered. She was directing her mark at her son, but Rhett knew the comment was meant for him. "And your uncle is far too much of a gentleman to engage in such dangerous behavior, aren't you, darling?"
Damn her, he thought agitatedly. Then suddenly, he had an idea. "I'll tell you what, Wade. Just this once, we'll all forget that we're respectable ladies and gentlemen--"
"That shouldn't be too hard," Scarlett muttered.
"--and we'll all have a swordfight," Rhett finished dramatically.
Wade's eyes were wide with wonder. "All of us? Even Ella and Mother?"
"Even Ella and Mother," Rhett repeated, fixing Scarlett with a stare.
Scarlett twittered nervously. "Oh Rhett, don't be so silly!"
But Wade had already run into the other room and back, carrying his old sword. "Here Ella, you can use this one! Uncle Rhett and I are on one side, and you and Mother are on the other side! We're the Confederates and you're the Yankees!"
"But I don't want to be the Yankees…" Ella whined, recoiling from the proffered wooden sword.
Scarlett leaned down and firmly put her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "Now Ella, the Yankees aren't all that bad. You've met some perfectly nice Northerners, haven't you? Why, don't you remember Mr. and Mrs.--"
"Yankees are too all that bad!" Wade interrupted. He jumped up on the couch and pointed his new sword threateningly at his mother. "And you and Ella are the Yankees and I'm going to get you!"
"Now just a minute, Wade," Rhett cut in, barely containing his laughter. "It would be most ungallant of me to let you fight the Yankees all alone." He picked up the other sword Ella had discarded and joined his stepson in standing on the couch.
"Rhett--you stupid--get down--" Scarlett fidgeted in embarrassment and Rhett enjoyed it. He had always reveled in watching her squirm, she who was so sure of herself. Her green eyes shifted from side to side and her nose rose ever so slightly into a sneer as if she smelled something unpleasant. She twisted her hands around in her lap, unconsciously picking at her fingernails…. Not that he really noticed. Or cared.
"I said I don't want to be a Yankee!" Ella cried and hopped onto the chaise that faced the couch, pointing her hairpins threateningly.
"Ella--"
"Come on, Mother, you've got to help me fight them!" Ella urged, her young face indignant.
Rhett watched as several different emotions passed over Scarlett's face. Finally she gave a resigned sigh, slipped off her shoes, grabbed two knitting needles and stood behind Ella on the chaise, pointing her weapons at Wade and Rhett. He laughed out loud at the look on her face--it was the same determined look he'd seen when she was set on making a business deal. Rhett thought her the picture of rebellion: long dark hair, strong set jaw and some idiosyncratic trait like… well, like being shoeless. Only Scarlett O'Hara could still remain dignified in her stocking feet.
"Come on, Uncle Rhett!" Wade said, barely containing his excitement. "Let's get them!"
Just as he was about to give a yell and jump off the couch, the door opened and Prissy looked at the scene before her, flabbergasted.
"Um… Cap'n Butler? I has a message hyah just come from yuh mutha's house." Her dark face looked from Rhett to Scarlett, who both looked slightly embarrassed about being caught in a child's game. Prissy looked more embarrassed at having interrupted what was clearly some family amusement, but to her relief, Rhett alighted from the bed and took the paper from her hand.
Son, should this letter happen to find you on your various outings today, I hope that you can spare a few hours to come home. There are some very important matters I must discuss with you. Sincerely, Mother
Rhett clucked his tongue in disapproval. Only his mother would call him home to discuss "very important matters" in the middle of the day. What the hell couldn't possibly wait until--He stopped. Perhaps she'd found out about Scarlett. About what had happened between them. She would be irate, no doubt, to learn that her oldest son had abandoned his wife. And then there would be nothing for him to do but hang his head in defeat and go home with Scarlett and the children. He shuddered at the thought.
Unless… Unless there was a way for his mother to understand what he'd done. He could introduce her to his wife and surely his mother would see through any mask Scarlett put on. His mother was shrewd that way, she had a keen ability to sense when someone was being false. And once she actually met Scarlett she would understand why he'd left her, and then she'd tell him to keep the secret quiet and to visit her twice a year, etc, etc… Yes, his mother might be his ticket out of this mess after all.
Rhett turned back to Scarlett, who he was surprised to find watching him with a worried look on her face. "Not bad news, I hope?" she asked.
"No, on the contrary," he lied silkily. "My mother would like to meet you."
"What, now?"
"Would you like to finish our swordfight first?" He flashed her a grin. "I reckon you could give us a run for your money with those knitting needles, Mrs. Butler."
"Damn the knitting needles!" Scarlett cried suddenly, throwing them down on the chaise, heedless of her children's small gasps upon hearing their mother swear. She yanked Wade off the couch and pulled him into her, and pulled Ella close to her side with a vice-like grip on her shoulder.
"Rhett, we want you to come home!" she admitted frankly. "The children miss you so, they ask for you every night. 'Where's Uncle Rhett?' they ask, and what am I supposed to tell them? The truth?"
Wade looked as if he already knew the truth and Ella seemed extremely uncomfortable as her mother patted down her hair untidily--as if she hated it when Mother messed with her hair, she always did it wrong. It was hard to tear his eyes away from their round faces, but Rhett knew that this was just another phase of Scarlett's devious scheme and didn't rise to the bait.
"I'll be waiting in my carriage outside, Mrs. Butler," he said, and slipped out the door.
X
Scarlett was too incensed to say anything the whole way back to Rhett's mother's house, and he took the silence to be the quiet before the storm. Damning himself for his rash actions, he knew that his mother wouldn't be home until five o'clock, which meant he and Scarlett would be alone for longer than was healthy--and he wasn't looking forward to it.
He showed her inside and they sat down in the living room.
"Brandy?" Rhett offered as she sat down on the edge of a red armchair gingerly, as if she was going to change her mind any second and make an exit. She had the look of a trapped animal about her, and the bitterness in Rhett's heart made him smirk at her. How the mighty had fallen, he thought--but not without a twinge of regret.
She shook her head no, so he poured himself a large glass and lounged over to the chair across from her and lit up a Cuban cigar. He watched her face muscles twitch painfully, as if it was taking every ounce of strength she had not to speak. He let her wait a little longer, exhaling smoke, and then finally he spoke.
"So, you want me to come home for the children." It was not a question.
Instantly she sprang to life. "You will come, won't you?"
"Well, it's not sharing a house with the children I mind so much as it is sharing a house with you." She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off, suddenly finding phrases filled with venom that he'd been longing to throw in her face for God knows how long. "You who's loved someone else the entire time we've been married, you who didn't call for me when you were nearly dying with sickness from a miscarriage, you who blamed me for the death of our daughter."
For a moment her face was covered in shadow, but then she emerged and spoke slowly and evenly. "Firstly, I do not love Ashley Wilkes."
"Please Scarlett, spare me this--"
"No, I want you to listen! I told you that night--the… the night that Melly died, that I didn't love Ashley, that I'd never really loved Ashley and that it had always been you and I just never knew it. Oh, I know it sounds silly but it's the truth, Rhett."
He didn't know what he thought about her sudden declarations of love that night, her sudden revelation that she loved him--it all seemed too hollow, too well-timed, too rehearsed… too good to believe. He had loved her since he'd seen her, damn him, and for her to finally love him back after twelve years--nearly thirteen now--well, it was just unthinkable.
"Secondly," she continued, "I did call for you when I was sick. If I did it once I did it a thousand times, I know I did. Everyone said I was delirious and maybe I was but I wanted you. I wanted you there to hold my hand and stroke my head and tell me I was going to be all right even if it was a lie. I asked for you so many times, but Mammy and Melanie--they thought I was… oh, they're fools, the both of them, for not fetching you! I thought you wouldn't come because you didn't want to!"
This was news. Rhett had always thought she'd never asked for him. He had imagined her writhing in pain, twisted and sweating in her sheets, damning him to hell for what he'd done to her. But she had called for him. Numerous times. Could she have possibly… it was unthinkable.
"And for the record," Scarlett finished softly, "I never blamed you for making me lose the baby. Ever, I promise. I forgive you for what you said to me that day--it was silly, I was silly, we were both silly… I… I don't want to talk about this anymore." She looked down at her lap.
Unthinkable, he told himself again. She had forgiven him. How many sleepless nights had he spent regretting ever telling her he hoped she'd miscarry? Everything Rhett felt about that night was suddenly turned upside down and sideways. Scarlett forgave him. The damned--! It didn't matter, she forgave him, she'd wanted him, she loved him… she loved him.
Somewhere downstairs, he heard the front door open and the mumble of voices as the darkies and servants ran to greet his mother. There wasn't much time…
Rhett crossed the room to his wife in long strides and gripped her by the shoulders. "You'd better not be lying just to get me to come home," he whispered fiercely.
Scarlett stared up at him angrily. "You stupid fool, what do you take me for?"
He shook her. "Tell me you're not lying!"
"I won't do anything if you keep shaking me like that!" Scarlett retorted, struggling now to get free.
"Rhett? Is that you? Are you here, dear?" His mother's voice drifted up the stairs and his sense of urgency increased. She couldn't meet Scarlett now, not after he'd nearly forgiven her! He had to hide her somewhere, just long enough for him to find a way to slip out of the house unnoticed, and then they'd both get out and… and go back home. He knew now that he had intended to do it all along, ever since the moment he'd seen her in the carriage that morning. They just had to evade his mother first… He grabbed her arm roughly and wrenched her to her feet.
"Rhett--what--"
"Quiet! I haven't exactly told my mother about our current situation yet, and finding you here could certainly raise some suspicions. I've got to hide you--"
"Hide me?" Scarlett was livid. "You mean to tell me, Rhett Butler, that you haven't told your own mother what you did to me? Oh you varmint, turn me loose! Hide me, indeed! Shove me aside like some dog--"
Rhett had stopped listening a long time ago. He was looking around the room frantically for a hiding place. In the wardrobe? No, it wasn't big enough. Under the couch? He almost smirked; decidedly not. The other door led to the library which was completely devoid of hiding places--
In a frantic last attempt, he laid eyes upon the huge glass windows, framed on either side by new dark blue curtains. His mother had been raving about them to houseguests last night. Well, it was ridiculous, but it would have to do.
"--and how dare you leave me in the first place, you villain! Everyone was right about you all along, I should have listened--"
"That's right, listening! Let's try it now, shall we?" Rhett put a hand over her mouth as he dragged her to the window and the concealing bulkiness of his mother's new curtains.
Viciously, Scarlett bit down on his finger and he yelped, removing his hand. "Damn it, Scarlett, stop it! Look, two minutes, and then I can explain everything!"
"I will not stop it!" she hissed. "And I'm going to make sure your mother knows I'm here!"
No, no, no, no, no! Rhett thought. That was the last thing that could happen! He needed time to collect his thoughts, to explain, to make amends…
"Rhett? Is someone here with you?" he heard his mother's voice call as she entered the room. He shoved Scarlett behind the curtains and followed behind, turning desperate eyes to her in a final, frantic pleading. And he saw that old gleam in her eyes, the dangerous one.
Scarlett opened her mouth and called out, "Mrs. Butler, over he--"
Rhett's lips covered hers in a kiss.
Of course, this hadn't been his plan and it certainly wasn't ideal, but if living with Scarlett had taught him anything it was that one should always have a "Plan B." In this particular situation, kissing his wife whom he hadn't seen in nearly four months was more like "Plan H", but if it shut her up, it worked.
And work it did. Almost instantly he felt Scarlett stiffen against his embrace, and then felt the sweet release as her body involuntarily molded to his, powerless against him. He'd be damned if he knew why she always did that, but he wasn't exactly complaining. In nearly four months he hadn't touched his wife's body--hell, he hadn't touched any woman's body, and to have Scarlett in his arms again, even if it was a last resort, was tonic for him.
The world around him faded; his mother's inquiries ceased to exist and suddenly there was just the two of them, as it had been a long time ago. A long time ago before the war and hard times and poverty and desperate measures and stores to run and places to go. For an instant it was them and only them, just as they had been that day at Twelve Oaks--separate, seemingly complete but desperately, unconsciously searching for their other half.
He found it.
Rhett Butler found his other half behind the curtains in his mother's living room. Stubborn, impertinent and the farthest thing from a lady he could think of, Scarlett O'Hara was a strong woman, but against the will of her heart she was as weak as water. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard his mother still poking about the room and then their lips parted.
Scarlett pulled back, flushed crimson from her chest to her hairline and panting heavily. "Rhett…" she began, whispering, "there's something I have to tell you."
He shook his head no; his mother would hear them. But she continued anyway in a fervent whisper. "I'm sorry I blamed you for Bonnie's death. It--it wasn't your fault, if it was anyone's it was mine. I was just so… so hurt and angry and upset and jealous that I… well it made sense to blame you at the time…"
"Shhh…" he said soothingly, kissing her forehead. The apology certainly wasn't convenient, but it was an apology nonetheless, and one he'd wanted to hear for a long time. He put a finger to her lips to silence her--just a few more minutes and they'd be safe from his mother--but Scarlett shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was a husky murmur.
"A long time ago, back when I was at Tara during the war, Grandma Fontaine told me something--something that I never understood until… until you left. She told me that women who aren't afraid of anything--that they… well, that it's not good for a woman not to be afraid of anything."
Rhett laughed softly, making sure his mother couldn't hear. "Grandma Fontaine is a very wise woman."
"Oh, will you hush? Anyway, she told me to always save something to be afraid of, just like I… just like I save something to… to love. Before, I used to think that I wasn't afraid of anything. I'd survived hunger and war and poverty and I'd killed a man and I'd nearly been raped and… well, it seemed like there wasn't anything worse that could happen to me." Her eyes were gleaming dully with tears. "And then… then you left, Rhett, and I realized that there was something I was afraid of. Something I'd feared for years and never even known it. I--I was afraid of losing you, Rhett."
The power and weight of her words was not lost on him, but somehow… no. No, there was no somehow, no other hand. He loved Scarlett, and if that made him insane, he was, but he loved her. He knew she was telling the truth, he knew she wanted him to come back home badly and he knew he wanted that too. Not even the huge purple bruise on his pride was enough to deny himself that. He had made his decision.
Apparently, Scarlett took his silence to mean that he didn't agree, because she startled babbling, frantic, rushed whispers of apologies and nonsense. "Rhett, I'm so sorry about everything. Just give us another chance, I'll do anything you say, I just want you back, my darling, please--"
"Scarlett," Rhett said suddenly, not really caring if his mother found them or not. "Do you remember what Ashley Wilkes said to you about the old way of life coming to an end all those years ago? The ones willing to forget the past were the ones who were willing to change and make the most of a changing world? The Gotterdammerung?"
Her face crumpled up in a scowl. "Oh Rhett, how can you talk about dying at a time like this, when we're--"
God, how to make her understand? He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. "It's not dying I'm talking about, it's living."
And he kissed her again, bending her head back so he could make his way down her neck apologetically, worshipfully, blotting out all past sins between the both of them with the ancient ritual of lips against flesh. "Scarlett, we've both got a lot of forgiving to do to each other. And if we don't, we're going to end up two lonely, miserable people. We've got to be the ones who are willing to change again, and make the most of it. Our life together won't be like it used to, God knows, but… we'll be together. And isn't that what you want, my dear?"
She enveloped him in a rib-crushing embrace. "Thank God, thank God, thank God…" Scarlett whispered over and over again, sobbing into his shoulder.
It felt good to comfort her again, to hold her again and know for certain that she wanted it. To know that she was willing to put the past away. To know that he was going home. Home, to Wade and Ella and Mammy and all the quirky but endearing people of Atlanta. And back to Scarlett, with whom maybe there would be more babies, and if not… who cared? Oh, to know that he could kiss her again, to know that there would be laughter, to know--
To know that he was in big trouble.
His mother, Mrs. Butler, had found them at last. She had yanked the curtains back from the window, exposing her son and his wife in their secret passionate embrace. Her hands were planted firmly on her strong, stocky hips and her plump face wore a scowl. Oh boy, Rhett thought. This was going to take some explaining.
"Mother!" he said pleasantly, as if nothing was wrong. Scarlett raised her tear-streaked face from his dark shoulder and sniffed. Damn!
"Oh, Scarlett, how pleasant of you to call on us, at last!" Mrs. Butler cooed. "But my dear, you do look drawn, whatever is the matter?"
"She's just--happy to see me, Mother," Rhett supplied quickly. "Poor dear…" He titled Scarlett's chin up. "She misses me so when I'm away here on business."
Scarlett smiled up at him but he knew there was malice behind that smile, which meant he would be paying for this conversation the whole way back to Atlanta.
"So why was it necessary to hide behind the curtains, pray tell?" his mother challenged.
"Oh, I love big windows," Scarlett lied with a quickness that astounded Rhett. "And this window seat was so beautiful, I just had to come and sit down. And when I began to get emotional… well…" She gave her mother-in-law a perfectly practiced demure smile. "Well, Rhett was afraid of--upsetting the servants, he didn't want anyone to see me in a state like this, so… so he drew the curtains about us and…" She trailed off lamely.
Rhett had trouble containing a laugh. Scarlett was the worst liar in the world; he couldn't believe his mother didn't see through her, being so shrewd herself. But maybe--and the thought made him pale a little bit--maybe his mother did see through their act, the thought of which really did make him laugh.
"So, what was this important business you had to speak to me about, Mother?" Rhett asked, eager to change the subject.
"Oh, how fortuitous you should ask! I was going to reprimand you for never bringing Scarlett to visit, but here she is now! Son, it was like you read my mind! Now, I've got to see to the dinner preparations, having some people over, you know, but I'd be delighted if you'd both join us!"
"Actually Mother, we can't," Rhett announced.
"My dear boy, whatever for?" His mother was perturbed.
"We're going home."
"Can't that wait?"
"No, I've been in Charleston for far too long. It's time I returned to Atlanta."
Mrs. Butler sniffed. "Well, if that's what you want…" And she waddled out of the room, mumbling something about children and their impertinence.
Almost instantly Scarlett was holding him close. "Oh darling, did you mean it? Are you really coming home?" Her eyes were shining.
Rhett smiled. "I am, Scarlett. I was a fool to ever fall in love with you but I was more of a fool to ever leave you."
She grinned, a rarity for her, and her whole face glowed in a way he'd seldom seen it do. God, she was gorgeous. He leaned down and kissed her soundly, slowly… it had been too long. He'd spent so many restless nights in Charleston, unable to sleep, and he realized now that this was why. The deplorable lack of Scarlett in his life just wasn't meant to be. She was a necessary part of his being, just like his straightforwardness and his love of brandy. As her hot little hands tugged wantonly on his lapels, he had trouble remembering life before Scarlett, life without Scarlett. What had he done? Who had he teased? Who had he loved? No one, it seemed, because he had never felt this way about anyone before. Never had a woman brought him so close to tears of laughter and tears of rage all within the same conversation. Never had a woman completed him so wholly as Scarlett completed him. Never had a woman's curves left him so breathless.
Scarlett broke the kiss and looked up at him with a content smile. He assumed she was about to spout off another declaration of love, but instead she said simply, "Tennyson."
Rhett blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"Alfred Lord Tennyson."
"What about him?"
"He was the one who said, 'What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world but suffers the loss of his soul?'" Scarlett quoted.
"I don't see why that's so significant."
She huffed in annoyance. "Don't you remember? The night you left me, you told me that I was a bit young to have gained the world and lost my soul. And as devastated as I was, I knew I recognized that quotation. I'd heard it somewhere before. And later, when I went back to Tara, I was looking through some of Mother's old things and I found it. I knew I'd heard it before. It was a quotation she used to read us from an old book. And it was written by Alfred Lord Tennyson."
Rhett smiled at her, undecided as to whether or not he should burst her bubble. Chuckling, he wrapped an arm around her waist protectively and kissed her forehead. "Well done, my dear."
"Although, I suppose I've got some of it back now," Scarlett said with as much thoughtfulness as someone of her general ignorance could manage.
"Some of what back, darling?" Rhett asked.
Scarlett looked up at him and smiled. "My soul."
He smirked and said, "Maybe not quite yet. That quotation you mentioned earlier?"
"Yes?"
"It's from the Bible."