Chapter 10
"What is it Scarlett?" asked Melanie as she took Rhett's seat in the chair next to Scarlett's bedside, clearly sensing her friend's distress.
"Oh, that man is so infuriating!"
"Men can be that way when you're in love with them," commented Melanie.
"In love?" Scarlett asked, bewildered because Melanie, and well, everyone seemed to be talking love and touting their perceptiveness in the face of Scarlett's ignorance.
"Why yes, of course. It is only when you love them so that they can drive you to distraction, you know that. It's funny, isn't it? When you don't care for a gentleman, they can do anything and you really couldn't care less. Ah, but when you care, everything they do impacts you and that is just the way it is," Melanie concluded with a gentle smile. "So how are you feeling, darling?"
"Oh, Melly, I feel so much better."
"I'm glad! And you seem to be well cared for."
"Oh, I am. It is the strangest thing. Rhett has been so attentive and well, he's been here night and day from what he tells me. I know I've slept most of the time, but when I've been awake, he's been here."
"That doesn't surprise me, Scarlett. Captain Butler was so worried about you and he was so relieved when you called for him. You are so lucky. He loves you so."
"Do you really think so, Melly?" asked Scarlett, settling into this conversation as easily as she would settle into a feather bed tossed with dozens of fluffy down pillows.
"Oh, Scarlett, of course I do. I've never been so sure of anything in my life. But, then again, this isn't news to you, is it?"
"Well—" Scarlett cast around in her mind for the right words. "Yes, I mean, no. I mean—oh, I don't know what I mean."
"Oh, Scarlett, you're just feeling very emotional. It's only natural after an accident like yours. I know that sometimes you've probably doubted your husband's love, and maybe even at times, doubted yours for him. But Scarlett, in the end, you two are made for each other," said Melanie as a blush rose in her cheeks. She lowered her voice to a whisper and continued. "I know this is probably inappropriate and maybe it is not my place to say this, but Scarlett, I don't know of two people more in love than you and Captain Butler."
"Really, Melly," said Scarlett eagerly. "Why?" She needed to know what everyone else seemed to know that she didn't.
"Oh, Scarlett, it's so obvious. I mean, well, I could tell that Captain Butler loved you throughout the war. I know that you didn't feel the same way then. Either you didn't see it or, well, maybe you were still mourning my poor Charlie. But well, I've known that he loved you for years. And, well, I see how you light up light a firefly when he's around you. He challenges you. He makes you think, just as my Ashley challenges me.
"You know," Melanie continued, sitting straighter and more alert as an idea suddenly dawned on her, "I remember the exact moment when I knew you were in love with him!"
"You do? Tell me, Melly," pleaded Scarlett, most interested in everything Melanie was saying as part of this conversation. "Tell me and I'll let you know if you're right."
"I remember questioning your decision to marry Captain Butler so hastily when you announced your engagement," Melanie said. "I admired you so for all the conviction you had in your decision, but as much as I liked and respected Captain Butler for everything he had done to help me and you, I still thought you were moving rather fast. Then, I heard you tell off Mrs. Merriwether. She told you that he was 'simply not the kind of man that decent people receive,'" said Melanie, recreating Mrs. Merriwether's haughty voice and intonation in an imitation that made Scarlett burst out laughing, not so much at Melanie's dead-on impersonation, but that Melanie was mimicking Mrs. Merriwether at all.
"You stood up for Captain Butler at Mrs. Merriwether's every attack. Why you pointed how many times he was in her parlor during the war and how he gave Maybelle the white satin for her wedding dress. But that still didn't stop her. When she attacked him again, you reminded her that Captain Butler saved Grandpa Merriwether's neck and her nephew's, too. Still she didn't stop. Then, she mentioned that he wasn't in the army and you said, 'He was, too, in the army. He was in the army eight months. He was in the last campaign and fought at Franklin and was with General Johnston when he surrendered.'" Now Melanie was imitating Scarlett, and showing quite a flair for acting.
Both Scarlett and Melanie were giggling at the absurdity of the whole situation. "I had forgotten you were there!" Scarlett said, wiping the tears that were running down her cheeks.
"Oh, but…but that wasn't the best of it, Scarlett!" said Melanie, reaching out her hand to place it on Scarlett's arm, ensuring she had her attention. "Then, then, Mrs. Merriwether said, 'I hadn't heard that.'" Once more, Melanie fell into her role of Mrs. Merriwether with total abandon and accuracy like an oft-rehearsed theatrical role. "'But he wasn't wounded,'" Melanie finished triumphantly.
"Then, you said something to the effect, 'Then I guess all the men you knew were such fools they didn't know when to come in out of a shower of rain—or of minie balls. Now,
let me tell you this, Mrs. Merriwether,'" said Melanie, wagging her finger at Scarlett just as Scarlett did at Mrs. Merriwether those many years ago, "'and you can take it back to your busybody friends. I'm going to marry Captain Butler and I wouldn't care if he'd fought on the Yankee side!'
"When I heard you say that, I knew that you were in love with him and from that point on, I knew you two were meant to be together and that the two of you would allow nothing, absolutely nothing to come between you," Melanie finished, a little tear in her eye and a self-satisfied smile on her face.
Suddenly, Scarlett was not laughing any longer. "Hmmm," was Scarlett's only reply. Melanie could see that Scarlett had become distant. She hoped she hadn't offended her with her impersonation, but thought not. Instead she attributed Scarlett's change in mood to fatigue after their long conversation. Scarlett was tired, but at that moment, she was really lost in thought, thumbing through memories of Rhett dating back to the Twelve Oaks barbeque like pages in a scrapbook.
"Well, am I right?"
"Melly, its so strange." Scarlett spoke slowly, walking back in time to try and put it all together not just to answer Melly's question, but to satisfy herself as well. "I can't begin to tell you how many times I wondered if I was in love with him during the war, especially when I found myself looking forward to his visits so much and never knowing when or if he would return to Atlanta again. But then, I'd tell myself that I was being foolish. I couldn't possibly be in love with Rhett Butler. Yet, he was always so exciting and we had so much to always talk about, but then he would do something that would just make me so mad…"
"Yes," returned Melly, snuggling into the overstuffed chair with a grin and pulling her leg up under her skirts. "I enjoy a good love story, please continue."
"Continue? That's been the pattern for—for years. I don't know if I can pinpoint when I started loving him," said Scarlett with wonder, accepting the newfound knowledge that she loved Rhett as easily as a child accepts a toy. Yet, that's not to say that she wasn't curious how and when it all came about. On her face was a look of concentration. She puzzled over this strange new development just as she would a bank statement that didn't jive with her calculations. If Melanie was expecting a romantic tale of how love conquers all, she was in for disappointment because Scarlett revealed nothing further. In fact, Scarlett seemed suddenly even further away, lost in her own thoughts.
"My dear, I can see that you're tired," said Melanie, as she slowly stood to leave. "I probably should have left sooner. Oh, dear! I can't believe how late it is. I totally lost track of the time!" she exclaimed with a quick glance at the clock. She and Scarlett were so engrossed in their conversation that she neglected to watch the time. They had chatted away even while Scarlett ate her dinner from the tray that Mammy brought to her room. "Mammy said the children were having dinner with Captain Butler, so I can take them home now. I know you're disappointed at not seeing them yet, Scarlett, but I agree with Mammy. Just give it another couple of days and you'll be that much stronger. You're more likely to be able to take their jostling if they jump on the bed."
"Thanks, Melly, for—for everything. I really enjoyed our visit today." Scarlett held her hands out to her friend, who clasped them in hers.
"Oh, I did, too, Scarlett. Talking with you is like talking with the sister I always wished I had."
"We had some good laughs, too, didn't we?"
"I haven't laughed so hard in ages. Now, promise me, you'll get your sleep and get well again. I miss you, my dear."
"Me, too, you. And yes, I promise."
"Goodnight then. Oh, do you want me to send anything up for you?"
"No, I'm fine. I'm just going to close my eyes for a bit."
* * * *
After Melanie left, Scarlett spent the next hour or so pondering all the information she had gleaned throughout the day—first from Mammy, then Rhett, and finally Melanie. Rhett's admittance that he loved her and the gradual realization that she possibly loved him as well turned her world upside down. "How could everything change overnight? Her feelings for Ashley, Melanie and above all, Rhett?" she asked herself. She dozed off into blissful sleep thinking about the uncertain future that lay ahead of her, when suddenly she was jarred from sleep by a loud bang in the hallway.
"Nevermind, Pork, I'll take it from here," she heard Rhett say from the hall before a soft knock sounded on her door. It opened slightly and Rhett stuck his head in. "Are you awake? Can I come in?"
"I'm awake now. What was the bang in the hall?" Scarlett nodded and waved him in, trying to sit up while craning her neck to see what all the commotion was about. She didn't have to wait for long. Rhett returned to the hall and came back in carrying, in multiple pieces, an army cot that Wade and Beau regularly used when they played war in the back yard.
"I don't think I could take another night in that chair," Rhett said as he set about unfolding the cot, which was really no more than a piece of canvas stretched over two long poles, which rested at either end on a couple of cement blocks.
"I agree. If you sleep in that chair again you'll end up looking like old man Ferguson."
"Ferguson? Oh, you mean that man who wanders through the park everyday."
"Yes, the poor man is so bent over that he can't even take in the sights," said Scarlett as she peered over her side of her bed at Rhett, busy at work assembling the cot. He stood then, and admiring his handiwork, tossed a blanket and a pillow upon his newly made bed.
"Well, my dear, thank you for being so concerned over my wellbeing," he replied, still studying his nightly accommodations.
"Are you joking?" Scarlett sniffed at the cot below her.
"What do you mean? My dear, I demonstrate my craftsman-like abilities and you think I'm joking. I'm wounded. And as for the cot itself, I look upon that cot as quite the luxury. I only enjoyed one night upon one when I joined the army. I had grown quite accustomed to the hard ground, so believe me, the cot was very comfortable by comparison. I did it then, I can do it again."
"Rhett, you can't possibly sleep on that cot. Heaven's sake! It is only about five feet long, if that. Are you planning on letting your legs dangle off the end?"
"No, my dear. As a matter of fact, my experience at cot sleeping has taught me that one must lay on their side and pull their knees up to get adequate sleep. I don't recommend stretching out at full length and sleeping on one's back when the mattress in question is nothing more than a piece of canvas strung between two poles. I'm afraid if I were to sleep on my back that way, I'd wake up hunched over, which is the very plight that I am determined to avoid after sleeping in that beastly chair for the last several nights."
"Rhett, you're being stubborn." Scarlett knew he wouldn't be comfortable on the cot, but she didn't know what else to suggest, unless—
"Stubborn! There's the pot calling the kettle black. I'll be just fine. Now, it is late. It's been a long day. I don't know about you, but I'm bushed. Do you need anything before I turn out the lights."
"No, no, I'm all set."
Rhett crossed the hall to his room and returned in his nightclothes.
"Did you and Melanie have a nice conversation?" He turned out all the lights and the room fell into semi-darkness.
"Yes, it was very nice."
"The children and I heard a lot of laughing. They wanted desperately to see you to find out what was so funny."
"Oh, it was nothing really. Just a little of this and a little of that," Scarlett said evasively.
"I gather you're not going to tell me what you talked about."
"No."
"Fine." His voice was sharper than he intended. Rhett was actually glad that she seemed to enjoy her visit with Melanie. But truth be told, he was wildly curious about what they had discussed. He had never, never in his life heard Scarlett laugh like she did tonight. Well, laughter might just spur on her healing and if that was the case, he was grateful for it. If only he could make her laugh like that.
"Would you like me to close the windows? Is it too cool" he asked, his face lit on one side by the moonlight streaming into the room.
"No, please don't. The breeze feels so nice." Rhett looked at Scarlett and her eyes danced with light. Her hair was tousled, having fallen loose of her hair ribbon. Her skin, though paler than usual, was luminous and one strap of her nightgown had slid off her arm as the drawstring loosened in her sleep, making her look every bit the woman he had carried up the stairs, lusty, passionate and oh, so sensual. "God, why am I torturing myself like this," he sighed inwardly, running his hand through his hair to contain his tightly bottled emotions.
Ever since Melanie's inopportune knock came on Scarlett's door, Rhett was in emotional turmoil. He left Scarlett's room when Melanie arrived, crossed the hall and fell into an exhausted emotional heap on his bed once he closed the door to his room. He was like a soldier, who after having walked barefoot across three states following Appomattox only to find his home burned to the ground and his family missing. Frankly, Rhett didn't know where he stood or where to go from here. He had laid all his cards on the table. He had made a gift of the secret that he had so carefully hidden away from sight, denied on more than one occasion and nurtured in his heart for years to the very person who could take his gift and throw it in the gutter or…or…"No, it couldn't be possible!"
"Goodnight, Scarlett," Rhett said quietly as he settled onto the cot and drew the thin, cotton blanket over him.
"You're being difficult. I just wish you'd listen to me. That cot is not going to work," Scarlett continued to urge, peering over at him below her.
"Scarlett, I'm fine!" His exasperation with the uncertainty of their situation, not the cot, finally caused a crack in his usual calm demeanor and his temper started to flare.
"Fine! You're fine! Then, fine! I'm fine, too! Fine! We're all fine!" Scarlett snapped, turning as much as her ribs would allow her onto her side and punching the pillow for added emphasis.
They both lay quietly for some time. The breeze outside had picked up and the trees outside the window made a rustling noise as the leaves waved back and forth. From somewhere, the soft whooo, whooo of an owl could be heard. Crickets asked questions of their mates and followed their responses home. It was the quintessential Southern night, sweetly scented, serenely quiet and bathed in moonlight.
Then, without warning, there was a thunderous crack of what, thunder? "Oh, my God, what was that?" Scarlett cried.
"Owww."
Scarlett looked over the side of the bed and there was Rhett, rolling around on his back, entrapped in the cot, which had given away amid splintering poles and torn canvas.
"God damn, it!" He muttered, trying desperately to disentangle his legs from the blanket, which only made matters worse. "Ouch!" he yelled as he rolled again only to land on one of the broken poles as it stuck him in the back. Scarlett looked at him with a straight face for but a moment. When she couldn't contain herself for a second longer, she exploded with laugher at the sight of the always debonair Rhett Butler rolling back and forth on the floor like a turtle on its back with its arms and legs flailing in the air. She laughed so hard that tears starting rolling down her face, which was turning a bright red. Rhett, who had finally managed to get back on his feet, looked at her with a stern face, "What the hell?" But watching her laughing uncontrollably was a first and then he, too, joined in, laughing at the pile of debris lying at his feet that had once been his bed.
"Oh, it hurts to laugh this hard!" she managed to sputter out.
"Then, stop it, for God's sake!"
"I can't!" She squeaked out, and then in a Herculean effort to regain control, she forced herself into a solemn pose and took a deep breath. "I'd don't want to say, 'I told you so,' but I told you so!" Her control broke like a damn holding back a raging river and once again, she fell into a bout of laugher that Rhett thought sounded like bells. He laughed, too, and sat down on the edge of the bed as Scarlett collapsed on her pillows in giggles.
"Are you quite finished now?" asked Rhett, trying to look serious.
"No!" Her laughing jag showed no sign of abatement.
"My dear, I had no idea that you were an aficionado of physical comedy."
"I didn't either," she gasped. Then, taking in big gulps of air in an effort to calm herself once again, Scarlett finally regained a modicum of control, at least enough to tell him, "Oh! Oh! I think I'm better now…Are you hurt?"
"My dear, to see you laugh like that is worth all the aches and pains I'm sure to feel in the morning. Now, let's see, I need to devise something else. I suppose the chair is starting to look pretty good again," he glanced at the chair with a smirk. Then, turning sullen, he spoke softly without meeting Scarlett's face. "But then, I also imagine that you're feeling well enough that you really don't need my round-the-clock care any more, do you? I should really just move back into my room. If you need anything, you can just—"
"I wish you wouldn't do that," Scarlett told Rhett, who had slid to his knees on the floor to clean up the mess. "Please sleep here," she suggested with a wave of her hand, trying to sound nonchalant, "just in case."
"Here? By here, do you mean the chair? I said that I don't know how my back would fare—"
"No," Scarlett interjected. "By here, I mean, here," she said, indicating the bed with her eyes, "with me."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. I said you could sleep—here—next to me."
"Scarlett, I can't believe that I would ever turn down such an enticing proposal, but I don't think that would be a good idea."
"Why? Oh, Rhett, I never took you for a prude. We're married, for heaven's sakes!" Noting his hesitation, she added, "Well, you do what you want." She settled herself back into her sleeping position. "If you really prefer the chair—"
"No, but I don't want to jostle you or hurt you in any way."
"We're just going to be sleeping, right, Rhett, or did you have other plans?"
"Scarlett—"
"What I mean is…Everything will be fine. I'll be fine. Remember we had this bed custom made to a larger size."
"I remember every time I see the bill for custom fitted sheets."
"Well, then, you'll see. I'll be fine."
Rhett pulled back the covers and slid into the bed, taking special care not to bounce or upset the bed enough to cause Scarlett any pain. "See? What did I tell you? You haven't jostled me at all. I didn't feel a thing," Scarlett told him as he gingerly laid his head on the pillow.
"Well, that's good, but I'm afraid to move. Once I fall asleep, I don't know if I can promise such control."
"Please, Rhett. Stop treating me like I'm made of porcelain."
"All right, I'll try." He rolled carefully onto his side so that he could look at her. "I promise. Now you promise me that you'll wake me if you need anything."
"You have my word."
"Alright, then. Goodnight, Scarlett."
"Goodnight, Rhett."
Rhett rolled onto his back and lay staring up at the ceiling, pondering the events that marked this long day. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined this morning that he'd end up back in his wife's bed later that night.
"What do you think Doctor Meade would say if he saw us now?" Rhett asked.
"He'd be scandalized. He's gotten so crotchety lately. I know he is only concerned about me, but he doesn't act like a happy man."
"He definitely treats me as if I'm up to no good."
"I thought you had made headway with him during all your Democratic meetings."
"I thought I had, but give me Grandpa Merriwether over Doctor Meade any day. I think I'd fare much better with Merriwether. I'm sure Doctor Meade's dislike for me dates back to the ill-fated raid on Shantytown."
"Why?"
"Grandpa Merriwether always looks like he has a bit of mischief in his eyes. He has a spark about him. He enjoys life and lives it to his fullest. I applaud him."
"And Doctor Meade?"
"Doctor Meade is a good man. He's honorable and a gentleman. He's a good doctor. He loves his wife. But I have to tell you, between you and me, the Doctor Meade we see today is a shell of a man he once was, don't you think?"
"Yes, I know. He's been marked by so much grief and sadness. He was never the same after losing his sons, Darcy and Phil. It is really so sad. Thank goodness, he has Mrs. Meade. They must be married some forty years by now. When you lose a child—well, I mean—," Scarlett's voice dropped off and she stumbled around to find words once she realized that she had spoken the unthinkable aloud.
Rhett turned to look at her from his pillow. "Go on, Scarlett. What were you going to say?" he urged quietly.
She turned her head to face him. Her eyes glittered brightly in the dark room. "I—I was just thinking that when both Darcy and Phil died, Doctor and Mrs. Meade could have turned away from each other in their grief. They are fortunate. They turned to each other and I suppose their marriage is the stronger for it." Scarlett's eyes shone like liquid and Rhett was reassured by her words.
"We could learn from them, you know," he offered.
Scarlett nodded, turned her head toward the ceiling to study the play of light and shadows on its surface and pulled the blanket up under her chin where her hands held it in place. Rhett felt her suddenly withdraw from him, but then, she took her arm out from under the covers and reached across the distance that separated them until she found his hand and laced her fingers with his.