Ella,

Life's made of choices and dreams. Choices, for we are obliged to make them even when we'd rather choose to pass the burden to somebody else – however, sometimes the only one we're able to find is our own self, stronger and more determined than ever. But this is something I hope to explain better by writing these lines. Dreams, because everybody has them – skeptics may deny them and those too proud may not admit this simple fact. Yet, it's true. We all wish for love, trust, maybe money or health. It's not important whether these desires are moral or not, obtainable or even the least bit fair. Either way, the way we cope with them rules our lives – hurting a friend, pushing aside a lover, fighting to survive because your dream is to live.

I know you think of me as a terrible mother or, more exactly, the whore who ruined your father's life. It pains me to write this. From a certain point of view, it's actually the truth. Yet there's so much more to it than that and I hope to prove it to you.

I find it necessary to explain to you, once and for all : I'm not reviving old memories in order to manipulate you or make you pity me so as to win your confidence, even though I can't see why I would be doing it. I'm simply tired of being misunderstood. I regret not trying to clarify everything many years ago. If there's anything undeniable in what they used to say about me, it is that I'm stubborn and proud. This is an immense step for me. Don't make me sorry for it any more than I already am.

Unsurprisingly, I'll be straightforward. I didn't love your father, Frank Kennedy, nor I married him for anything else than his money. Hate me more? I cannot blame you. Please read on .

I told you countless times how disastrous things were at Tara back then. How we struggled to get through the day, working life field slaves just to survive, with our stomachs empty and, more seriously, with our minds weary. The Yankees wanted to put their dirty hands on my home and let us starve to death in our dignity and useless chivalry. What could be done? Stand there and wait to be thrown out in the street, beaten by some lucky fools?

Of course not. You know, giving up's never been an option for me. There's always a way and, if you work hard enough and make the necessary sacrifices, things turn out the way you want. Marrying Frank wasn't a whim or a sick need to spite my sister, it was a sacrifice. Part of me knew there'll be no going back – it was a choice. Suellen could never forgive me and you hate me. I could tell even then, while I was battering my long and dark lashes like a true Southern Belle that this was going to happen, a punishment for breaking a rule.

And I was willing to spend the rest of my life (and even of my Afterlife) paying for this deliberately cruel thing I've done, for those hearts I have shattered to the ground were broken so I could put an end to the danger of losing one of the very few things I've constantly loved.

Moreover, I loved Rhett Butler. And I still do. I know some of my actions are blamable and that, from where you're standing, I seem a materialistic woman who marries men only for their wealth. Outwardly, this might have been true at the time. But you know, when I said "yes", the day of your father's funeral, there was something in me willing me to don't let the moment we shared pass. It was like finding security and comfort while, at the same time, feeling like a worshipped and worthy woman.

I may not have noticed this feelings then, but I know now they've always been there, hidden somewhere in my heart, foolishly pushed aside.

I will not refer to some events in our marriage, the main topic for gossip when you were a child. You know about my decision to push him away and deny some of his rights, about Bonnie and the tragedy brought upon our family and about the miscarriage. You attended Melanie's funeral right by me side and I know how much it affected you – I know you lost a mother then, the best you could have had.

What I want to explain to you is the path I chose the day of the funeral, and the complicated series of events which followed, for it's clear by now that trouble can't leave me alone. I'm asking you to have the patience to read all about it.

There, on the train platform, through the drops of rain that stained my cheek, I stared at Ashley. I just couldn't believe my eyes. He was pale, paler than I'd ever seen him. The few sparks he used to have in his grey eyes had been put out forever. Melanie's death chased away his hope – he looked beaten, on the point of giving up on life itself.

You may think it was normal. As you already know, Melanie and Ashley had loved each other and, in spite of all my unrequited passion, she'd always been his first choice. Surely the only choice. But it was disappointing and tragic in my eyes – he couldn't gather the strength to live through it, not even for his son's sake. As always, he needed my help – a tough shoulder to rely on for support when war, change and death destroyed his world. This is what I was to him: a beautiful and independent woman who did it her way, carrying him with me out of pity or friendship.

"Ashley! What are you, in the name of God, doing here? Are you going somewhere? "

""Yes, Scarlett. "

"Well, where?" I asked with a hint of anger in my voice. Why did he leave Beau behind?

"I'm heading for Tara." A faint but certain voice. "With you."

""Great balls of fire! How can you make jokes in a time like this? And how do you know I'm going to Tara?"

"My dear, everyone who knows you, however obnoxious he may be when it comes to something else about you, could have guessed you'll go home after all you've been through. I've known you for so long… you love Tara and need the red soil of that plantation to survive. "

He was right. But it still didn't make any sense. "And have you really lost your mind? You can't come with me. I don't need or want you to."

"But can't you see, I need to. Now that Melly is dead, your help, your courage and your stubbornness are like air to me. No one can fix me now, make me the way I used to be. But I know, if there's someone who can reach out a hand and guide me, that someone is you. "

"Mother, is Mr. Wilkes going to accompany us?" Wade, always a little gentleman, formal and polite, yet so innocent and clueless. He was happy that someone who reminded him of Melly wanted to come home with us.

"No. Simply not. What's everyone in Atlanta going to think of me? And of you and Melanie. Are you blind and deaf? Haven't you heard the rumors spread by your dear sister herself. I'm already considered an abject and horrible creature who cheated her best friend. Is it really not enough for you? You already ruined my marriage and reputation with your talk of honor and sacrifice. "

The expression on his face made me instantly regret my furious and reproachful words. He turned even whiter, tried to mutter a few words but failed miserably.

"I'm sorry. I know I haven't been fair with you, Scarlett. What I said that day at the mill was true – I never wanted anything for you but complete happiness. How ironically that I've been the one to keep you from it. You're right, I don't deserve the slightest help. It'' just my nature that makes me admire you so much that I'm unable to deliberately hurt you – I couldn't have said to you that I didn't love you, especially while finding myself mesmerized by you. But it's true, I loved Melanie more than anything in the world. She was my purest and steadiest dream. I don't know how to mend the wrong I've done. "

But I was sorry too. I felt I wasn't keeping the promise I made to Melly on her deathbed. I only hurt him further. Of course, he was the cause for losing the only true love of my life. On the other hand, he was my oldest and closest friend. We didn't have very much in common, maybe except for the memories we've shared of a life without fear and ugliness.

I just had to help him. I didn't know if Tara could be of much help to him, yet it was worth trying. Anything to make him understand that Melanie wasn't coming back and that he had to be strong for Beau, if not for himself.

"Fine. You can come with us. My reputation is ruined already and I guess I won't ever be able to redeem myself in Atlanta's eyes. I will stand by your side, but you have to promise me you're going to try and give your best shot to be strong."

Just then, the train entered the station and I had to check that everything was prepared for our journey. Wade and Ella were restless, as it was the first time they were travelling by "the gigantic iron monster" – this is the way you put it.

Standing near the window, wanting to say my goodbye to Atlanta, my heart skipped a beat once more. No, my heart literally stopped. There, on the platform, looking directly at me, was standing a tall and imposing man – impeccable suit, large panama hat, shiny black shoes. Masculine features, tanned skin and jet-black hair. It was Rhett.

His gaze was focused on me, observing me with that impenetrable mask of his.

That was the moment I honestly asked myself if I was still sane. Maybe all I've been through had got the better of my mind and now I was imagining things, seeing recurring persons who played a part in my life.

Was this a beginning or an end? What did it really mean, I couldn't tell. But I knew it meant something – it killed the indifference. And anything's better than indifference. Even hate.

Hello everyone. Sorry for not updating more often. So, this is it. Rhett's in the story again, as enigmatic and unreadable as ever. What do you think? What should happen at Tara?