Chapter 11

Rhett awoke early the next morning. It was room was still dark, but you could see hints of the coming dawn from the streaks of pink and red light that played about the open windows. Scarlett was sleeping soundly at his side and he marveled for the umpteenth time at the events that has transpired yesterday. He also silently cursed Melanie's untimely interruption.

He had revealed so much, almost everything in fact and he didn't regret it one bit. He, Rhett Butler, had turned a new page and so far, so good. The new day was dawning and for the first time in about two years, he was sharing a bed with his wife and at her invitation, no less. Yes, this new approach had its risks, but it also had its share of rewards and lying next to Scarlett this morning was a reward greater than any he had ever known. They seemed to have come so far yesterday. For the last few weeks, when he thought about the night following Ashley's birthday party, he chided himself for being a fool. Told himself repeatedly that he read too much into Scarlett's actions and words, muttered in the throes of passion. Told himself that she had physical desires like anyone else and for the first time, he apparently tapped into that well of desire that he had thought gone dry years ago. But he was wrong. Scarlett had said that she was disappointed when he wasn't there in the morning; she missed him and feared him hurt or worse.

When Rhett returned to her room after Melanie left last night, he hadn't known what to expect. He didn't detect the look of triumph in her eyes that he expected to see, but maybe, now that his revelation had time to sink in, she might be more inclined to wield her power over him. But no, that didn't happen either. Of course, they had avoided any serious talk and she didn't ask him any further questions. But, she had seemed more open to their relationship, more receptive to him. She had admitted that she, too, had said some things in their passionate night together after Ashley's party. And, she had admitted that everything was different from that point on. These were all good omens. True, she hadn't said the words he longed to hear, but then again, he hadn't either; that was one last part of his heart that he held back—retained as his final gift to her.

Last evening had been wonderful, lying next to his beloved after so long apart, but then again, it had been all about the sleeping arrangements, punctuated by his weight smashing the cot to bits. He hoped Wade wouldn't be too disappointed. No, she hadn't said that she loved him, nor did she claim that her love for Ashley Wilkes was no more, but in the warm light of the coming dawn, he felt a surge of hope. For the first time since just after Bonnie was born when Scarlett banished him from her room, like the conquering hero, he had returned and now he was returning brandishing a sword of hope.

After a long while of laying in bed, memorizing every aspect of Scarlett's face from the thickness of her eyelashes to marveling at the curls in her hair, her eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning," she said as she stretched her arms above her head with a little yawn.

"Good morning, my dear." It was an awkward silence, neither wanting to expose too much. It was a new day, a new dawn and each remembered it held the potential for a new start, but fear and distrust were emotions that still coexisted in each of their hearts.

"Thank you."

"For what," asked Rhett, raising an eyebrow.

"For resisting the urge to leave and getting dressed before I woke up."

"I had no idea that was something you gave a second thought to."

"This is nice. I like it." Scarlett's smile was like a child's, well rested and totally content.

"I'll make a note of that—for future reference," returned Rhett, with a wink.

"You know what?" whispered Scarlett as if she was telling him a secret, her voice so low that Rhett had to lean in to hear her.

"What?"

"We kind of went behind doctor's orders last night, didn't we?" Scarlett asked, her eyes indicating the shared bed.

"I suppose."

"Are you game to do it again?"

"Do what again?" asked Rhett, wondering if Scarlett was making an audacious proposal or if she was referring to something else entirely—something of which he hadn't a single clue.

"Go against doctor's orders."

"By doing what, my pet?"

"Help me out of bed."

"What? No, Scarlett. Doctor Meade hasn't said you can get up yet."

"Rhett, either you help me or…or…"

"Scarlett, this doesn't make sense. Let's wait for Doctor Meade to stop by and let him put in his two cents. He might tell you that it is just fine to get up."

"No, I don't want to wait for him. Please, let's just do this. Doctor Meade never has to know."

"And what if something happens to you? Then what?"

"What could happen to me?"

"Scarlett, you're sounding pretty indomitable now, but just a few days ago, you had a miscarriage, were running an astronomically high fever and were delirious. You had a concussion, still have broken ribs and who knows what else. Let's see, did I fail to mention something?"

"Forget it! I'll do it myself," she shot at him before adding in a voice filled with anguish, "You just don't understand."

"Damn it, Scarlett! You have children waiting to see you—"

"Great balls of fire! I know that! That's one reason that I want to get out of this bed, for heaven's sake! I miss them and I don't want them to see me like this."

"You will see them in or out of bed. Just wait for Doctor Meade to give you his blessing before you get out of bed. The children don't need to see you having a relapse. It is too risky. Life is one big risk, Scarlett, as we've found out, but there is no need to take senseless risks. I don't want you to start hemorrhaging or God's know what."

"I…I…feel so frustrated and helpless!"

"I do understand," he said tenderly, taking her hand in his and looking deep into her eyes. "I know you don't like forced confinement, but it will all pay off in the long run. You'll be strong and healthy and I hope, happy, too."

"But, Rhett…please. I feel like I'm on the brink of something and…and…I want to be able to deal with it. I feel like half a person stuck in this bed like an invalid."

The desperation in her eyes was evident and Rhett felt for her. "Let me make you a deal. We'll get Doctor Meade over here today and see what he has to say. In the meantime, I'll do whatever I can to ensure that you feel like the furthest thing from an invalid."

Her lower lip turned out in a pout, but it was more than that. Rhett knew how caged she must feel and knew if he were in her place, he'd go stark raving mad. But he couldn't give into her wishes, no matter how tempted he was. He couldn't risk losing her when he was coming so close to winning her.

"Please go along on this with me. Give me a shot at this, Scarlett, please, trust me. Besides, we have a lot more to discuss and I know you have a lot more questions to ask me. I can see them floating around behind your eyes. Right, am I right?" he asked with a teasing laugh, trying to elicit a smile from her.

"All right. I'll do what you say, but that being the case, I suggest you send Mammy in here, since I can't do for myself any more."

* * * *

Rhett had retrieved Mammy as Scarlett requested and she helped Scarlett with her toilette. Mammy chatted happily and inquired of her visit with Melanie. When she saw the heap of rubble on the bedroom floor by the door that had been the army cot, she just grinned, a wide, knowing smile and sauntered off with the laundry. Doctor Meade showed up shortly thereafter and said Scarlett was progressing splendidly, but stopped just short of allowing her to get up on her feet. Tomorrow, he promised. She could give it a try tomorrow. One more day of bed rest would give her just that much more time to heal. However, he cautioned, if she were to experience any pain in her side, she must return to bed immediately. Rhett took in Doctor Meade's advice and with his eyes, he gave her a reassuring look that promised her that they'd give it a go the next day, but not before.

After Doctor Meade left, Scarlett spent the balance of the morning and early afternoon alone. Rhett said he needed some time to run errands but promised to return by late afternoon; Mammy was otherwise occupied; Melanie was with the children, so Scarlett was left alone with her thoughts. She was slightly perturbed that Rhett took off the way he did knowing that she was blue. He said he would make her feel less like an invalid and as it was turning out, she was alone, feeling more bedridden than ever. On the other hand, she did like the idea of having some time to sort out all her jumbled thoughts from the last few days.

It had been wonderful sleeping with Rhett by her side. He always made her feel so safe, so secure. The night was filled with a friendly warmth that had long been absent from their lives. She had missed it. She had missed the conversations in bed with Rhett from the minute that she had locked him out of her room. She didn't want to lose them again. She hoped she could find a way to make him return to her bed permanently. He nearly left last night because she was recovering quite well and really didn't need help any longer during the overnight hours. She knew she couldn't delay the inevitable much longer. He'd feel it was necessary to return to his room unless she spoke up and explained why she wanted him there and that she didn't want him with her as a nursemaid either.

She still couldn't quite verbalize her feelings for Rhett, not to herself, let alone to him. Still, like she had told him earlier, Scarlett felt like she was on the brink of something, something big. She didn't want to give voice to her feelings while she lay helpless in bed. Rhett had the courage to finally speak of his true feelings and she wanted to do the same, but not this way. Yes, she had to admit, some of what she felt was still a bit blurry to be absolutely certain about, but she knew one thing—Rhett loved her and she was absolutely thrilled about it. She wasn't happy like she thought she'd be during the war, when she wanted to lord it over him and whip his black head into submission. Those thoughts didn't even occur to her. This time, she felt like all the hopes she had nursed during his absence with Bonnie might finally come to bear. She wanted a replay of that night after Ashley's party. She wanted another chance to feel the rapture that she felt that night and know for absolute certain that it was real and not a dream. She wanted more time to be a better mother to her children. She wanted to share Bonnie's love with Rhett. She still wanted another child, a boy, with Rhett's dark handsomeness; and at that thought, her eyes misted over. She lost this child, she thought, her hand going to her stomach, but if God gave her another chance, she'd see to it that nothing would harm a new baby and she'd care for it and love it, like she should have loved the others. No, like she will love the others, she corrected herself.

"Where was Rhett?" she wondered. She tried to fix her hair in a becoming arrangement, to while away some time. She pulled up both sides of her long hair to the top of her head, twisted it a couple of times and then secured it with a comb. She looked at herself in a hand mirror and noticed that some color had come back into her face, but she was still noticeably pale. She didn't want to add any rouge, but simply smiled and with that, her eyes lit up and her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. She hoped that Rhett still thought her attractive. She replayed his words again her in head… "I fell in love with a green eyed girl from Clayton County, Georgia." His voice had been full of passion and nostalgia when he talked and she hoped he still felt that way for her. He didn't actually say the words, "I love you." What if he meant he loved her in the past tense? She hoped she wasn't too late. Lost in her thoughts, she dozed off with a slight smile on her lips.

She woke up with a soft knock on the door. She glanced at the clock and it was not quite five o'clock. She had been sleeping for two hours. Rhett poked his head in and looked around, "Are you decent?"

"What? Of course!" She sat up and tried to arrange her hair, which had gotten slightly mussed during her nap.

"I have a surprise for you." Rhett was dressed to the nines in one of his nicest waistcoats with a starched white shirt and gray trousers. He looked dashing as usual and Scarlett was slightly dismayed at the thought that he was out and about looking so good while she was locked in her room like a naughty child. But even that thought quickly escaped her head at the mention of a surprise.

"Oh, Rhett, what is it?"

"A surprise. Are you ready?" She sat up straighter, like an obedient child and folded her hands in her lap. Rhett went to her door, opened it wide and in came Mammy, wheeling a silver service cart, followed by Pork, wheeling a matching cart. Lou came next with a heavy basket hanging on one arm while a white linen table cloth hung over the other. The trio, with Rhett's help, quickly moved about the room. First, Rhett removed an oil lamp from the round table in front of the doors to the veranda. He and Pork dragged the table closer to the bed and then took the linen tablecloth from Lou and tossed it on top. Mammy and Lou immediately added candles to the tabletop, fine china and sparkling glassware.

"Madame, you cannot go to New Orleans, so I have brought New Orleans to you," announced Rhett.

"What are you saying?" asked Scarlett, still trying to grasp what was going on.

"You said you wanted to get out. Well, Doctor Meade said you can try standing up tomorrow. This evening, however, we're transforming your bedroom into one of the finest restaurants in all of New Orleans. To start, we have shrimp in a remoulade sauce."

"Rhett? Rhett, is this what you've been doing all day?"

"My dear, you have me all figured out."

"Not exactly, but…but how did you do this?"

"Well, I cheated a little. I would have loved to bring you an authentic meal from the Vieux Carré, but that would have been impossible on such short notice. However, I know the chef at the National Hotel and he graciously agreed to provide me a four-course meal to my specifications. Gustave is Creole and arrived here just after the war, so I daresay, it will be as authentic a Creole meal as we can get here in Atlanta."

"Oh, Rhett! It is wonderful!" Scarlett exclaimed as Pork, Lou and Mammy, who was beaming from ear to ear, took their leave.

"Madame, may I?" He pulled a chair out and indicated Scarlett's place at the table. She looked up at him helplessly. "No, Madame, I meant, may I help you to your seat?" He came to her and bending, indicated that he intended to pick her up. She nodded and he very gently gathered her in his arms, one hand snaking under her knees as he lifted her from the bed with ease. Her arms around his neck, her bare feet dangling below the hem of her nightgown, he set her down in the chair and she squared herself to the table.

Rhett unveiled a tureen of chicken and andouille gumbo and filled a bowl for each of them. Then, he sat down next to Scarlett at the table.

"This is so unbelievable, Rhett. Thank you. You made good on your promise of this morning."

"Well, thank you. I'm glad I could turn around your day, at least I hope I have."

"Oh, yes. Yes! I…I…don't know what to say. You keep treating me like this and I'll—well I'll—"

"What, Scarlett?" Rhett asked, hanging on her words.

"Let me ask you this? Are you courting me, Captain Butler?" Scarlett said, batting her lashes at him and smiling shyly his way from under her thick lashes.

"What would you say if I said, yes?"

"I'd say that I'm a little nervous because I don't think I've ever been courted," she replied, plopping a shrimp smothered in remoulade sauce into her mouth.

"You! No, that can't be!"

"It's true!"

"What do you call what we did during the War?"

"Were you courting me? Yes, I do remember you saying that you were the only man over sixteen and under sixty who was around to show me a good time, and yes, you did bring me candy and flowers, but I don't think you could say that you were courting me."

"It felt like courting from my end."

"But you always denied having any feelings for me. And, you let plenty of other men buzz around me, so no, that was not courting. This, however, definitely feels like courting. And, do you know what, Captain Butler?"

"What?"

"I am enjoying it. You keep this up and well…well"

"Well…?"

"Well, a proper lady should not say, but since I'm not exactly a proper lady, I'll tell you." She leaned over to him to whisper conspiratorially to him, "You could really turn my head."

Sighing with mock disappointment, he replied, "Only turn your head, hmmm? I hoped to do a little better than that."

"Oh, I don't doubt that you will. You're quite accomplished at wooing the ladies from what I have heard."

"Really? And, what have you heard?"

"Oh, I've heard that you have a girl in every port and are not the type to be faithful to just one."

"Ah, those are just rumors. The truth is I long to be faithful to just one woman, provided she loves me as I love her."

"Oh," Scarlett replied softly, her chin was cupped in her hand, propped up by her elbow, which now slid off the table, throwing her off balance and nearly to the floor. He was so damned handsome and when he was like this, he made her feel hot and cold and shaky, all at the same time.

"Are you all right, my dear? Did I say something to upset you?"

"No…No," Scarlett stammered as she collected herself. Why did he make her so nervous? Why did she feel like a schoolgirl alone with her first beau? He was Rhett, her husband. "Oh, Rhett this food is just wonderful. And, well, everything is so romantic," she said, looking about the room at the vases of fresh cut flowers that he had brought in to the candles that flickered brightly on the tabletop now that it was getting darker. "Do you remember when we had dinner at Antoine's?"

"How could I forget? You finished your crawfish etouffé and then started on my oysters. At dessert, I never saw anyone with more of a sweet tooth for pastries. Then, after consuming an abundance of champagne, we drove back to the hotel while you were singing Bonnie Blue Flag in the open carriage."

"My, my, my…you do have a good memory."

"I remember everything about New Orleans quite well. Tell me, Scarlett, did you enjoy our honeymoon?"

"I did, indeed. I loved everything about it. I loved the shops of New Orleans, its restaurants, its food, its music and well, everything."

They were now eating their main course, which consisted of grillades of veal, a delectable side dish the chef proudly dubbed, Oysters Bienville, and sweet potato pancakes.

"Everything?" Rhett asked, once again trying to draw more details from Scarlett. This evening was going even better than he had planned. She seemed happy, utterly happy and he was glad to have had something to do with that. She was flirting with him and while he detested when she had done that during the War, now he was heartened by it. After so many months and months of arguments and silent wars where Scarlett sulked until she got an apology, which he refused to tender, she was now livening up the evening with lighthearted flirting. She was coy and seductive at the same time. He marveled that she hadn't lost her touch. His pulse raced when she gave him a sly look, a demure smile or a flirtatious laugh because this time, he sensed something was different. He was hard put to place his finger on what that difference as, but one thing he did know. In the past, she flirted with everyone and anyone. He hadn't seen her flirt since the War and that was ten years ago. Now she was flirting and there was no one she wanted to impress, no one she wanted to make jealous, no one she wanted to lasso. They were already married and they were alone. Tonight, her flirting was for him alone.

"Ah, Captain Butler, I thought I was the one to be asking the questions," she replied, taking a big mouthful of her sweet potato pancakes. "But, to ease your curiosity, I'll tell you this." Scarlett straightened her back and launched head on, her courage bolstered by the small sip of scuppernong wine that he allowed her. "What I liked most about New Orleans was our, umm, our nightly conversations."

"Our nightly conversations?" Rhett's eyes were wide and he was searching his memory for what she could be referring to.

"Yes. Every night, we'd lay in bed and you'd tell me stories about your past, whether they be funny or slightly, well…risqué…and well, you should know how much I enjoyed that time together. You had an endless supply of entertaining stories, and well…" her mind wandered backwards and a sudden shadow darkened her eyes and the smile faded from her face. "We talked a lot then, like we're doing now. All that seemed to end when we moved into this house. What happened, Rhett?"

"Well, as I recall, it is rather difficult to have a bedtime conversation when we're sleeping more than two hundred feet apart and we're separated by two heavy mahogany doors." His face was bland, but his voice held a note of bitterness.

"Rhett, I'm sorry. I regretted it the minute that it happened. If there is one regret that I have, that's it. I never meant to hurt you like that. I…I…"

"So what made you make the request for separate bedrooms?"

"Are you asking the questions now?"

"I see that you're taking that offer of mine to heart. Well, Scarlett, when you shut me out of your room, you can't begin to imagine how that cut me. I knew it wasn't entirely because you didn't want any more children. I told you the night of Ashley's party how bad that made me feel. You hurt me, so I in turn, felt I had to hurt you. I did repeatedly; I admit it. I wanted to hurt you and I did; I nearly killed you and I killed our unborn child. My penchant for teasing you grew into an obsession for ridiculing you and humiliating you with ugly words as if by belittling you, I could convince myself that you were unworthy of my love. I guess that's why the conversations stopped."

"But, Rhett," she replied, ignoring for the moment, his admittance that he was deliberately cruel to her to ease his own pain. "Our conversations stopped even before then. They stopped the minute we moved into this house."

"I knew even then that there were times that you laid in my arms and pretended that I was Ashley Wilkes. That was what made me strike out."

"Rhett, you're mentioning Ashley again."

"How can I not mention Ashley? He's been a part of our lives since the day we met. He's why so much of our marriage went wrong and we…I can't forget that." He looked calm, but his voice increased in volume with each word he uttered.

"But he's not a part of our lives now."

"When did you discover that?" Rhett replied blandly.

"I…I…haven't felt anything for Ashley in a long time. I realized it that day at the mill but I'm guessing that my feelings for him changed long before that."

"Well, then, you certainly gave a good imitation of being in love with him up until this moment, Scarlett. Oh, I'm not upbraiding you, I'm just curious about the workings of your mind."

Choosing to ignore his comment, Scarlett continued in a steady voice as if she had not been interrupted. "I wanted our baby and it is just as much my fault as yours for what happened on the stairs." Unable to meet his eyes, she turned her head and gazed out the window to the veranda. "You repeatedly lay the trap and I always take the bait. We quarrel or, should I say, I quarrel. You somehow manage to stay calm and controlled. I always assumed that was because I didn't mean anything to you. You didn't care, so nothing I did or said mattered much to you."

"Scarlett—"

"No, please, let me finish. To answer your question about the separate bedrooms, it started when I got dressed that morning and my waistline was, in my mind, as big as Aunt Pitty's. Oh, I know, I know, I was being shallow and vain. I know. So, I went to the mill and as you guessed, I met Ashley there. He said some things—"

"What things?"

"He said…we argued about using convicts and he blamed you, not me for wanting to work convicts. He said you had twisted my thoughts and he hated the thought of you touching me. He said that your touch coarsened me, hardened me."

"That son-of-a-bitch!" Rhett said, slamming down both hands onto the table, shaking the crystal glasses so hard that one tipped over, spilled water everywhere. When Scarlett uprighted the glass, she held it to the flickering candlelight and as dim as it was, a large, jagged piece was missing from the fragile glass.

"I'm sorry, Scarlett," Rhett said, unsmiling, immediately regretting his loss of temper.

"It's fine, Rhett. We have others," she said absently, then shaking her head as if to clear her mind, she turned to look at him directly. "Rhett, listen! What he said was wrong, but it was my fault. Stupidly, I assumed he was asking that we be physically true to each other. It seemed romantic at the time, particularly in light of your coldness toward me."

Rhett winced at each word she uttered, but managed to swallow the bile rising up in his throat enough to question her further. "My coldness?"

"Rhett, from the minute Bonnie was born, you changed. Where your eyes once followed me, they now followed Bonnie. I was…I can't believe I'm saying this…but I was jealous. I suppose I still am. Ashley gave me every indication that he wanted me and I knew you didn't. Anyway, I thought that there was a practical aspect of separate bedrooms, too, no more babies. Then, you acted like it didn't bother you at all when I felt like I was making a big sacrifice. At any rate, after you left, I regretted all of it and the mess I made of everything."

The quiet of the evening was deafening. Neither spoke. Rhett lit a cigar and sat staring out the window while he smoked. He felt like they had taken ten steps ahead last night, only to take twenty steps backward just now. Where the evening was once bright with potential, it now seemed dismal. The delicious food had grown cold and unappetizing. The crystal water glasses were no longer sparkled but were marred with fingerprints and one now sported a large, v-shaped chip that rendered the glass useless. The crisp linen napkins were now soiled and thrown negligently on the table that was, just an hour before, so elegantly dressed. The tablecloth was soaked with water. The bread pudding dessert, which was soaking in the Chef Gustave's secret sauce, sat untouched and looked to be as tasteless as a piece of hardtack. Scarlett suddenly lost her appetite and pushed what was left of her meal back and forth across the plate.

"It seems we've been at cross purposes. But it doesn't matter now, does it?"

Scarlett looked up sharply at Rhett, suddenly alert as if he had reached into her chest and was squeezing her heart in an ever-tightening grip. "Why? What do you mean?" The last spoonful of sweet potato in her mouth turned to sawdust and she had to swallow it with effort.

"You asked me earlier about why I didn't give my father a second chance. The truth is, I did. He kicked me out and struck my name from the family bible. He said things to me that no boy—no one of any age—should have to hear from his father. But I was young, foolish and perhaps, in many ways, he was right and I was wrong. I made mistakes. Age has a wonderful way of making us see the errors of our ways. Time has a way of softening the edges of bitterly sharp memories. Given a healing period of months or years, one will very often forget what the actual argument was about that caused the breech in the relationship in the first place.

"Thinking that, on one of my many trips into Charleston during the war, I sought out my father to make amends. I came before him, hat in hand, heart on my sleeve, but he met me armed for battle." Rhett's eyes misted as he recollected the events of the last visit with his father and his face fell into a grimace that was not at all pleasant. "He started yelling, absurd things, things that had nothing to do with reality, accusing me of things that in fact, had never happened. I asked him, 'Do you talk to Ross or Rosemary like this?' He shouted, 'No! I don't have to. They don't treat me badly as you do!'

"I reacted with my heart, not my head. I, in turn, said some things to him that I now regret. I told him that he had driven me away. He, in turn, called out to God to take him on the spot, that dying would be preferable to being in the same room with his son. He then corrected himself and told me that he had only one son, Ross. I told him that I, too, would prefer to die than to admit to anyone that he was my father. He claimed that we'd both be better off in the local cemetery. At that I walked out and never saw him alive again."

"Oh, Rhett—," Scarlett sobbed and reached her hand out to touch his arm. He looked down at her hand on his wrist, moistened his lips, then purposefully withdrew his hand to take the linen napkin from the table to wipe his mouth one last time. He tossed it back on the table and then stood.

"Let me help you back to bed," he said without preamble. Scarlett just looked up at him, taken aback by his outburst. He cradled her in his arms and lifted her easily from the chair. He gently laid he back in her bed, then turned.

"So, you see, Scarlett. I've found that second chances don't always pan out exactly as planned." With that, Rhett Butler strode out of the room.