The usual disclaimer applies, Gone with the Wind and all its characters are the property of Margaret Mitchell and her heirs.

On Sunday, a week after Scarlett's arrival in Charleston, she went to the convent to see Carreen. It had been a few years since she had last visited her sister, and Scarlett looked forward to their reunion. While she waited in the visitors' parlor, she examined the religious statuary around the room. The unseeing eyes of pious, yellow-tinted saints gazing heavenward, and a bleeding Christ on the cross made Scarlett feel faintly uncomfortable, as though they knew she had fallen away from the faith many years ago, and condemned her for it. Already feeling a bit unsettled, Scarlett was startled by Carreen's appearance upon entering the room. She had never gotten used to seeing her delicate little sister swathed in the voluminous black serge robes of an Ursuline nun. The white linen guimpe covering her from mid-chest to chin, and the white linen bandeau across her forehead left only her face exposed. She wondered, a little guiltily, if it was true that upon exchanging the white veil of a novice for the long, black veil of a professed religious, she had to shave her head. When Ella was a little girl, going to school here at the convent, she had pulled her mother aside and, in a furtive whisper, asked that very question. At the time Scarlett pooh-poohed the notion, but ever after, it was the first thing that popped into her head when she saw Sister Mary Joseph, and she found the thought repellent.

Despite Scarlett's underlying feelings of unease, they greeted each other warmly. Carreen wrapped an arm around Scarlett's waist and led her to a long sofa in the far corner of the room where they could converse in semi-privacy. With little prodding, Scarlett gladly began to relate all the news of home and family. As happy as she was to see her oldest sister and hear about the people she loved, Carreen was curious to know why Scarlett had chosen to visit so close to Christmas. Scarlett's expression changed, and her face reflected her confusion and pain. Why, indeed. She had been asking herself the same question for the past week.

She shook her head, perplexed. "Rhett is dying. He asked me to come because he had business to discuss with me. But I think perhaps the business he wanted to discuss was a sort of resolution to our relationship. For twenty-seven years we have been separated, with no clear sense of what we mean to one another."

"I shall pray even harder for him now," Carreen murmured.

Taken aback, Scarlett eyed her sister curiously, "Even harder? You pray for Rhett?"

Sister smiled beatifically. "Scarlett, dear, I pray for each and every one of you, especially for you and Rhett. I pray for God to heal your hurt and reveal the love that is there. I guess I'm not praying hard enough. It's taking an awfully long time for this particular prayer to be answered."

Scarlett gaped at her sister. "You don't understand. There is no love left. We have argued almost daily since I arrived. I gave him my word that I would stay, but with each passing day I find it more difficult."

Carreen had a compassionate soul and could hear the pain in her sister's words. "We can never know God's plan for our lives. Sometimes the most difficult task placed before us is meant to help us grow, and experience God's love. You must stay and make his last days better. Let him know your love is true and deep. In this, my dear sister, you reflect the love of God for your husband."

Carreen's eyes shone with serenity, and her voice and gentle manner were soothing. Scarlett noticed for the first time a strong resemblance to their mother. While it felt good to share the burden of her feelings, bottled up this past week, with someone who loved her, all this God talk was irrelevant to Scarlett.

Softly and sadly, she reiterated, "I told you, I don't love him anymore."

Carreen tried again to touch her sister's heart. "You may not be in love, but he was the father of your beloved daughter. You wouldn't have come to him if there was no love."

Scarlett was not an analytical person, and this explanation made little sense to her. Her faith was not metaphysical or mystical. She did not understand the world in which Sister Mary Joseph lived. It was well and good for Carreen to see the hand of God in the events of the outside world; she lived in this cloister and didn't have to deal with Rhett's illness or the irrational anger it spawned. Scarlett felt tormented by their bitter reunion, yet realized she could not deny Rhett his last request. She looked into Carreen's eyes, and said, "I don't have your faith. Mine is lacking."

A bell chimed softly in some distant part of the building, immediately catching Carreen's notice. "I must go to chapel. It's time for recitation of the Angelus. Come back and see me again next Sunday, I'll have something to share with you." They rose and walked to the front door of the convent together. Carreen embraced Scarlett lightly. "Please think and pray about what we've discussed. Adieu, dear sister."

After leaving the convent, Scarlett spent the afternoon exploring Charleston. She was in no hurry to return to Rhett's house. The walls seemed to be closing in on her there. She missed the wide open spaces at Tara, the paddocks surrounded by miles of neatly whitewashed fences, and the sight of her thoroughbred horses in the pasture land. As she walked she thought about the last week. Rhett drew her here, and then appealed to her to act as a wife would, yet she hardly recognized him as the man she married so many years ago. She was ashamed of the woman she had been during the early years of their marriage: vain, selfish, immature, and blind to Rhett's love. She had changed, grown, perhaps even attained some wisdom; in short, she was now the woman Rhett doubted she could become when he left her. Her breakdown had been like the refiner's fire, separating the dross in her life from what was precious.

After going home to Tara to grieve and then recover, the families of Clayton County welcomed Scarlett back as one of their own. The alienation she felt in Atlanta dissipated, and she regained her authentic self. She was a country person, and like her neighbors, she lived in rhythm with the seasons, and worked hard. Together they celebrated life's good times, and supported each other through the bad. Beatrice became her mentor and guide as they went into business, one who would not allow Scarlett to palm off a lie or attempt to cheat a potential buyer. In later years, Dan could be a satisfactory companion, making her laugh, in spite of herself. Yet, there was always something missing. She was acutely aware that she faced the world alone. Rhett was the companion she craved, and she had wanted to be with him in life, not as he died. Everything was twisted around and inside out. She held onto her love for him and maintained a steadfast belief that he would return to her until that night in Louisville. Even then, she still harbored the faintest hope that somehow, something might change, especially since, as the years went by, no divorce papers arrived for her signature. This bizarre reunion was not what she wanted or ever expected.

***

Upon returning to the house, she was surprised to see a carriage parked outside. In the week she had been here, Dr. Magruder was the only visitor. She hesitated to enter, but then rationalized, she was Rhett's guest as well, as welcome as anyone, and technically, still his wife. With a little curiosity, and trepidation, she entered the home.

Voices carried down the stairs from the upper level. She heard a woman's voice as well as Rhett's. She stiffened, could this be one of Rhett's lady friends? Oh, well, what did it matter now? Scarlett climbed the stairs slowly, taking deep breaths in order to control her emotions.

When she reached the door to the sitting room, she saw Rhett reclining in the chaise and a rather homely woman, close to his own age, sitting in the chair across from him, drinking tea. "Not the type of woman he would be attracted to," she thought. Scarlett was thankful to avoid an embarrassing encounter with any of his old lovers, especially the Frenchwoman. Rhett called out to her to join them.

"Scarlett, do you remember me telling you about Sally Brewton? She is a very old friend of mine. She is the one who provided me with the introduction to Bart Moreland all those years ago when I went to Ireland to buy horses."

Scarlett's face leapt with recognition, "Why yes, how nice to meet you! I owe you a debt of gratitude for that wonderful introduction, Bart Moreland did more for my stables than anyone other than Beatrice Tarleton. We successfully bred his stock to produce several of our best racehorses." She and Sally embraced lightly.

"My pleasure, it's nice to meet you as well." Sally smiled mischievously and winked at Scarlett, "I hope this layabout," pointing at Rhett, "isn't trying to take advantage of you, Scarlett"

Scarlett smiled and suggestively arched an eyebrow at Rhett, "I've been living alone for a long time; I dare say I could give Captain Butler a run for his money. That is if he'd tempt me."

"Ladies, please, if I had the energy, it would be a miracle," Rhett replied laughing. "Speaking of things miraculous Scarlett, how was your sister?"

Scarlett had moved to the fireplace and was holding her hands out to warm. She turned to Rhett, and said, "Carreen is well. She asked after you."

He nodded appreciatively. "You must give her my regards as well. Will you be seeing her again?"

"Yes, next Sunday."

Sally had been watching Scarlett carefully, then, she rose, "I must be going. My husband is expecting his Sunday dinner." She bent down and kissed Rhett on the forehead. "See you soon, dear boy." After straightening, she asked Scarlett to see her to the door.

Sally took Scarlett's arm, and they descended the stairs, but instead of heading for the front door, went into the parlor, where a fire was glowing in the hearth. Sally slid the pocket doors closed, and turning to face Scarlett, said, "Thank God, you finally arrived."

Scarlett eyed Sally warily, wondering what she was leading up to. "Why is my presence here so important after all these years?"

Sally led Scarlett to the settee and pulled her down to sit. "Dr. Magruder has explained the situation to you. Rhett is afraid to be alone, afraid to lose his mind to this illness. Rosemary and I thought of you. We've watched him deteriorate over the last year. Rosemary couldn't take anymore and left two months ago. It grieved her to leave her brother in such condition, but she, we both, thought you might have the power to be more objective. For you, the horror of the change is dramatic, for us it has been incremental. We are putting our faith in you." Sally was looking at her intently, trying to discern whether or not Scarlett had grasped her full meaning.

"I don't think I follow this, Sally." Scarlett muttered, more to herself than to Sally, "I deal in the obvious, spell it out. Why did Rosemary leave? Was it the black moods, the outbursts? Did he lash out at her the way he has been with me this week?"

Sally shook her head sadly, and looked at her hands, "It was very difficult for Rosemary to endure, too. This behavior is an effect of his disease, and as such, can't be helped." She looked up met Scarlett's eyes, "But there was something else." She paused then, said, "He asked for you."

"Me?" Scarlett furrowed her brow. "He asked for me? I can scarcely believe that. He has been cruelly insulting. I had hoped he would return to me, but our paths diverged long ago. I thought he was going to divorce me fourteen years ago. Isn't there some other reason?"

Sally spoke simply and sadly. "You will know when the time comes for the laudanum and morphine. You nursed the wounded during the war. You know the look of death."

It was starting to dawn on her what Sally, Rosemary and Rhett expected. Dr. Magruder had said as much the other morning. "It is your husband's wish to be spared this, so we agreed upon the heavy dose of laudanum and morphine. He tells me that you will stay with him. He trusts you to know when the time is right. Do you understand this? Can you accept this responsibility?" Those words took on a sinister new meaning. She looked directly at Sally, "I'm to be the one to decide when Rhett dies, is this what you mean?"

"You could put it that way. It is my understanding that by the time he needs heavy doses of narcotics, he will be beyond help." Sally's tone was gentle.

"But you all trust me to care that much about him?" Scarlett persisted in her line of inquiry.

"Yes, don't you?" Sally asked, surprised.

"Mother of Mercy!" Scarlett nearly shouted, "This is the man who left me twenty-seven years ago, saying I was a bull-headed child, who would always treasure glister over gold, and didn't really care to stay and see if I could change. While he would not visit the disgrace of divorce upon me, we never again lived together as husband and wife, despite my profession of love. He has kept me at arms length for years, as if I would taint his existence. For the better part of the last week he has tormented me. It seems to be a dramatic change of opinion, placing this trust in my hands."

"Oh, Scarlett, don't open old wounds now." Sally's voice was kind, kinder than Scarlett's words deserved.

"My sister, just this afternoon, was telling me that this was my chance to show Rhett how much I really cared for him, being here with him while he dies." Scarlett held her head in her hands, rubbing her scalp with her finger tips, trying to massage away the tension headache that was starting to grip her. "She said I would be a reflection of God's love for him." Scarlett looked directly into Sally's eyes with a passionate gaze filled with anger, "If I have to endure another week with that man like the one just passed, I might just plant a shiv in his heart while he sleeps and call it his comeuppance."

Sally wrinkled her brow in consternation and looked at Scarlett thinking she was not really getting through to her. Rhett was going to die one way or the other, the goal was to make the transition as easy as possible, not get drawn into old battles. "I realize how hard this must be for you. It was the same for Rosemary. She left because she couldn't take his moods and anger anymore. In the name of whatever love you once felt for each other, please stay. Rhett needs you. I'll call on you again in a few days, maybe you'll think differently." Sally patted Scarlett's shoulder. "I'll see myself to the door." Scarlett watched her go, and in her agitation, began to pace the length of the parlor. It was time she found out exactly what she meant to Rhett and why he wanted her here so badly.

Scarlett mounted the stairs slowly, her head pounding with each step. The sitting room was empty. She could hear Rhett and Joseph in the bedroom. She tapped softly on the door. Joseph held the door ajar, "I'm getting Captain Butler settled, I'll come get you when he is ready," and then the door shut. Scarlett retreated to the sitting room and sat next to the fire, staring, unseeing, at the flames.

"Maybe now is the time to take Carreen's advice and start praying," she thought. But if God hadn't heard Carreen's prayers for twenty-seven years, why would he suddenly be paying attention to Scarlett's? In the midst of her internal debate over Divine guidance, Joseph gestured for her to come into the bedroom.

Rhett lay back, propped up on four pillows. He gestured to Scarlett to take a seat in the chair next to the bed. He seemed more relaxed this evening. Sally's visit must have put him in a better mood.

"What's the matter, Scarlett? You look upset," he said, then closed his eyes.

"This is all wrong. Why didn't you call for me years ago? I waited, I never gave up. My family thought I had lost my mind. I made a good life, Rhett. We could have shared it. I loved you. I wanted to be with you in life, not watch you die."

He opened his eyes, and looked at her. "I'm sorry, Scarlett. I understand what you wanted, but you must try to understand me as well. For the last ten years I have been plagued with physical infirmities, my health failing. I've been alone for a long time, as have you. After Rosemary left, I realized I needed someone to be here with me, and I thought of you. You're still my wife. You said you loved me once, and so I'm placing my trust in you. Please don't push me away again."

"But do you have any love left for me?" she pleaded. There had to be more to his desire to have her here than just being available to drug him before he died.

"Let it be," he said with tired resignation. "What difference can it make to us now?"

Yet, Scarlett persisted, "Is it the Frenchwoman? Do you still love her?"

"Good God, no!" he exclaimed in exasperation. "It's this complicated, yet this simple: I am going to die soon."

"I want to help you, but I need to know what I mean to you. Otherwise, I'm just sparing Sally and Rosemary some sort of odious duty to you." She spoke with stubborn tenacity, hoping to pry a confession of love from him, to no avail.

Rhett sighed heavily. "I loved you, Scarlett. I never felt for anyone else what I felt for you, if that helps you understand."

"No!" she cried, her voice rising in frustration. "You're talking about the past. I am talking about right now, tonight."

"When you came, you said you would stay because you cared about me. If that's true, if you care at all, please, just be here with me. Don't ask for anything more." His voice dropped weakly, and he said, "I have nothing to give."

They looked at each other for what seemed an eternity to Scarlett. Rhett averted his gaze first, closed his eyes and shaking his head, sighed, "I can't do this; I need to rest." Scarlett understood that meant she was to go.

She left without saying another word. Her heart was leaden with the pain of the unmet emotional need of nearly all her adult years, the years she spent alone. She asked herself, "If this is all I mean to him, can I accept it?" It seemed that she must accept, if she were going to honor her word and stay. She took a deep breath and prepared to tote another weary load as she fought the urge to find some brandy.

***

After Scarlett left, Rhett wondered what he could have said to make her understand. In truth, he had a lingering affection for her, but not love. Years ago, out of grief and bitterness, he had stifled any feelings of love that once existed. Yet, they were still tied together as husband and wife. Why he hadn't filed divorce papers in 1886, he couldn't honestly say. Perhaps what stopped him was the last vestige of his old passion for the woman. This December night in 1900 he was incapable of passion as he clung stubbornly to life. He wanted peace, comfort and some affection. If Scarlett still had any feelings for him, surely she could just be present in the moment without demanding more. Trying to figure out how to make her understand was an enduring puzzle.

His life's journey in the last ten years was fraught with physical challenges and emotional pain. It defined who he was at this moment, and what he really wanted as he lay dying. His downfall began in August of 1890.