The usual disclaimer applied, GWTW is the property of Margaret Mitchell and her heirs.
To all who've left unsigned reviews, thank you for your kind words.
Scarlett awoke with a start as the first rays of the morning sun began peeking through the slats of the shutters covering the windows in her room. After talking to Rhett the night before, she went to bed feeling morose and empty. Sleep eluded her as she tossed and turned, seeking refuge in its embrace from the conflicting emotions churning inside her. When she finally fell into a restless slumber, she had a particularly vivid dream, one which only served to deepen her inner turmoil.
She dreamed about Rhett. She saw him in the distance, across a broad meadow on a hillside. It looked like their favorite spot for picnics during the war. He looked young and healthy, just as he was in those years. He beckoned her to come to him, and she ran with open arms, overjoyed to see him. As she got closer, a carriage pulled into view, and Belle Watling and the Frenchwoman got out of it. She stopped and watched as they took Rhett by the arms and led him to the carriage. She could hear their derisive laughter as it rolled away. This dream served as a grim reminder of the humiliation she suffered when Rhett sought the company of other women, and had so disturbed Scarlett that it took a few minutes to orient herself to her surroundings upon awakening. In those few minutes, the realization slowly set in: she was in Charleston, Rhett was dying, and he had manipulated her into agreeing to stay with him, seemingly without giving her feelings any consideration. She had the sense that she had been conned by the master; it certainly wasn't the first time. The more Scarlett thought about it, the more irritated she became, and she jumped out of bed, already formulating her plans for the day.
"As long as I have to stay here and care for Rhett as a wife would, I might as well enjoy some of the benefits of acting the part," she thought. She decided to assert her influence on Rhett's household, whether he liked it or not. She had only brought enough clothing for a short visit. Today, she would remedy that situation by going to the nearest dress shop and purchasing some new ones. First, however, she would go to the market to buy flowers and food. The cook was unimaginative and prepared bland, unappealing meals. This had to change. Then, she would stop at the surgical supply house that Dr. Magruder recommended and purchase the invalid chair before beginning her other shopping. "I will not meekly submit," Scarlett thought stubbornly as she completed her toilette and prepared to dress for the busy morning ahead.
When she first saw Joseph, she instructed him to inform Captain Butler that his wife would be making some purchases downtown, and that he should expect to receive the bills. She said the word wife with a spiteful edge, making Joseph wonder what caused the breach in their relationship. In the week gone by, the discord between them had been painfully obvious, and he deduced they had been apart for many years. Joseph knew his employer as a stubborn, strong-willed individual who could be vigorously outspoken in his lack of tolerance for deceit; yet, he could also be charming, kind, and exceptionally generous. He maintained a warm relationship with his step-daughter, the child of this wife, and was a doting grandfather to her children. Joseph knew about Captain Butler's daughter who'd died, and assumed that the little girl and her mother had met the same fate. It never occurred to him that she might still be alive.
Scarlett ignored Joseph's look of puzzlement, and went in search of the cook. She handed her a menu for the rest of the week and told her she was going to the market to purchase vegetables and meat for this evening's meal, and expected the cook to accompany her.
"But Miz Butler, Cap'n Butler cain't eat dis kine of food," protested Glory, the cook. Glory could read and slowly went over the menu with a skeptical eye. Dr. Magruder had given her stringent guidelines for the captain's diet, and nothing on this menu conformed to them.
"No, he can't, but I can. This is what I expect to be served for the rest of the week. Is that understood?" Scarlett gave Glory a hard, questioning look, indicating she would tolerate no dissent.
Glory wasn't about to get into an argument with her employer's wife. She nodded in deference to her better, and went to get a cloak and a market basket.
They went to the market, accompanied by Ezekiel, Glory's thirteen-year-old son, who was also a member of the household staff. The marketplace teemed with activity as seemingly all of Charleston was here this Monday morning. Glory and Ezekiel maneuvered through the crowded aisles with practiced ease, and quickly accomplished their task. Glory impressed Scarlett with her ability to bargain with the vendors, and Scarlett was quite satisfied with her purchases. After selecting several large bouquets, she sent Glory and Ezekiel back to the house with the food and flowers.
Scarlett then stopped for coffee and a sweet roll. At the bakery counter she thought she heard someone call her name, but that couldn't be. No one knew her here. She scanned the crowded market place and thought she saw Sally Brewton. "That would certainly ruin my peace this morning," she thought irritably, as she quickly turned her head to avoid being recognized.
As Scarlett sat down to enjoy her breakfast, Sally suddenly appeared, exuding warmth and cheer, and joined her at the small table. "Good morning, Scarlett. You're looking well. Did you pass a good night?"
"Morning," Scarlett muttered. "No, I didn't." she replied flatly. "And you Sally?" Scarlett gave her a forced smile and nodded, hoping she would just go away.
"I'm sorry to hear that. I'm doing well enough, thanks." Sally's smile faded away, as she leaned in toward Scarlett and asked, "Did you have a chance to think about our conversation?"
Scarlett went rigid with tension, and wanted to rudely tell Sally to go away. "It plagued my sleep," she replied caustically, thinking back to the dream which caused her such distress. "But I'm here, and there is work to do," she added.
"Is that how you look at it? Work to do?" Sally gazed quizzically at Scarlett.
"In a sense, yes. This is my last duty as a wife, albeit an estranged one. I'll stay and do what needs to be done." The thought was none too pleasing to Scarlett, but the die was cast. Knowing what she was expected to do gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, and it was difficult for her to see how any good could come of it.
The determined look on Scarlett's face reassured Sally. "Good girl!" She clapped Scarlett on the back so hard that she almost spit her coffee out. Seeing this, Sally started to laugh and Scarlett couldn't help but smile as well.
She was in no mood for polite chit-chat, and quietly finished her meal while Sally cheerfully prattled on, relieved that Scarlett would stay. When Scarlett rose to leave, Sally stood, too, and embraced her lightly. "I'd still like to come by to visit," she said.
"Of course, you're Rhett's friend. I don't intend to interfere," Scarlett replied, pulling on her gloves, eager to be on her way. "Anyway, it's nice to know I won't be alone," she added, seeking solidarity with one of the few other people in Charleston who understood the burden she had assumed.
***
Later that afternoon, after Scarlett returned from her outing, the invalid chair was delivered.
Joseph was taken aback. "Captain Butler didn't ask for this."
"No, Joseph, he didn't. I did. I spoke to Dr. Magruder last week and he thought it might benefit Rhett to sit out in the sun for a little while on these beautiful afternoons. Will you help me convince him?" Scarlett smiled sweetly, in an effort to charm the valet.
Joseph didn't intend to say no; however, he had his doubts, and voiced them freely. "I don't know Missus Butler, he be very stubborn. It pain him quite a bit to move about." Touching the hard wooden frame and the cane seat and back, he said, "'Sides, this look uncomfortable."
"But you see that's the beauty of it. Once he's settled, we can move him room to room without further discomfort." She would brook no dissent, and cut the conversation short with a firm command. "Come on now, let's get this upstairs."
Joseph called for Ezekiel, and they carried the bulky chair up the stairs, making a good bit of noise in the process. "Put it in the sitting room for now," Scarlett instructed. "Joseph, can you find a small eiderdown quilt? We'll fold it up and place it on the length of the seat and leg rest."
Rhett heard the commotion and called out to Scarlett. She entered his room, smiling. "I've brought you a present."
"Purchased with my money, no doubt," he said, irritably. "Joseph told me you were out spending it freely this morning."
Scarlett frowned and rolled her eyes. He's going to be difficult about this, she thought. Before she had a chance to respond, Joseph brought the chair into the room.
Rhett scowled, "I don't see the need."
To Scarlett, the issue of the invalid chair wasn't worth arguing about. She shrugged and said, "Suit yourself. Last week I asked Dr. Magruder if he thought you might benefit from going out into the sun on warm afternoons. He thought the idea had merit."
"Ah, so you and Magruder will decide what is best for me. I shudder to think what I'll be forced to endure at your hands," he replied sarcastically. Earlier, Rhett and Dr. Magruder had engaged in a fierce debate about the appropriate dose of calomel, and at the moment he was none too pleased with his physician.
Scarlett assumed Rhett's peevish reaction was meant for her. "Isn't that why you asked me to stay? You want everything your way," she snapped. "If I am to remain here to see to your welfare, you're going to have to trust me to make some decisions on my own." With that, Scarlett left the room. Blast the man, she thought, he's never happy with anything I do.
One of the housemaids, Vinie, met Scarlett as she walked into the sitting room. Vinie held a large envelope and the bouquets from the market, "Mail fer you Miz Butler."
As Scarlett took her mail, she instructed Vinie to place the flowers in Rhett's rooms. Turning her attention to the envelope, she noted the return address from Atlanta, and her spirits lifted. Upon opening it she found letters from Wade and Melanie, and several drawings made by the younger children. Joseph was in Rhett's bedroom, wrangling with him about using the invalid chair. Seeking quiet, Scarlett went out on to the piazza to read her letters.
Wade wrote expressing his shock at learning about the severity of Rhett's illness, filled her in on the holiday goings on with his family, and gave his mother assurance that everything necessary was being done to keep the stables running in her absence. He included some mail forwarded to him from Tara by Suellen.
Melanie's letter expressed her sweet longing for her grandmother to return home to spend Christmas with her and her sisters and brother. The light, chatty tone of the child's letter was just the balm that Scarlett's spirit needed at this time. Melanie wrote of the Christmas pageant at church, her school and music lessons, and the preparations in progress for the holiday at her home. Thinking about the traditional holiday activities of decorating and cooking, and the smells of fresh cut evergreens and gingerbread baking caused a wave of homesickness to envelop Scarlett, and for a moment, she thought her resolve to stay might crack. She pushed the unwelcome thought from her mind, and continued to examine the contents of the envelope.
Three children's drawings were enclosed with the letters. Annabelle drew three girls and their grandmother on horseback, Caroline drew a Christmas tree with presents, and Teddy's picture looked something like a dog and scribbles. One of his sisters had written an explanatory note on Teddy's picture. Apparently, he wanted Santa to bring him a puppy.
Wade's wife, Alicia, would never allow a dog in her home, Scarlett thought scornfully. She just might give the boy a puppy herself. While Scarlett envisioned a new way to irritate her daughter-in-law, the French doors opened and Joseph pushed Rhett, sitting in the invalid chair, out on to the piazza.
"May I join you, Mrs. Butler?" Rhett asked, as he shot Joseph a look that Scarlett didn't understand. Joseph smiled at her, and then adjusted the seat back on the chair so that it reclined slightly. Rhett dismissed him with a gesture. "You received some mail I see." He pointed to the large envelope she held.
Scarlett looked down at the envelope clasped in her hand as though seeing it for the first time, and held it up. "Yes, letters from Wade and Melanie, drawings from the younger children. Would you like to see their pictures?"
He nodded and held out his hand as she pulled the childish drawings out of the envelope one by one, "This is Annabelle's picture."
"Horses, very nice," he murmured approvingly. "Does she like to ride?"
"All the girls like to ride. Usually we go to Tara after Christmas and they take over the stables for the week. Melanie is keen to learn dressage. I believe Wade and Alicia are getting her a new saddle for Christmas." Next she pulled out Caroline's picture of a Christmas tree, then Teddy's dog.
After looking at the children's artwork, Rhett leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "How is Wade?"
"He is well. Busy, as you might imagine, with a law practice and four children."
"Four children, quite the paterfamilias."
Scarlett looked at Rhett, eyes closed, basking in the bright afternoon sun, and wondered why he never sought a relationship with Wade and his family. Children always meant so much to him. As she gazed off toward the harbor, she told him, "Both Wade and Melanie send you their best."
"Melanie, too?" That seemed to catch his interest as he opened his eyes and perked up a bit.
"Would you like to read her letter?"
Scarlett handed him the girl's letter, then, watched with interest as Rhett read it. "She sounds smart. Would you say she is more like Wade or his wife?"
"She's definitely a Hamilton, but she has more spirit than Wade did at that age."
Rhett gave Scarlett a critical look, and spoke sharply, "How could she be less spirited? Wade was a timid child, and exceedingly fearful." He stopped short of outright criticism of her mothering of the boy, then, softened his tone. "Obviously his children miss you. Because I'm keeping you away from them that makes you my Christmas treat."
Scarlett frowned. His playful flippancy annoyed her. Moreover, she would miss them as well; something Rhett didn't seem to understand. "Well, I guess you could say that."
He handed her the letter, and she tucked it back into the envelope, along with the pictures. "You are very lucky to have such a fine family," Rhett sighed.
Scarlett spoke matter-of-factly in a voice tinged with regret. "We could have shared this. You know my children always loved you like a father."
"No, we could not," he stated emphatically, "even though I loved your children like a father. Do you never tire of trying to insinuate my presence in your life? Don't you see? It wasn't possible." He raked his fingers through his thinning hair.
"No," she replied in a hot rush, "no, I don't see! I'm too blind to see it! Tell me, why wasn't it possible? What held you back?" She hoped to force him to finally explain himself. To Scarlett, Rhett's motives and feelings where she was concerned were like a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. When he finally told her in plain words, the night Melanie died, how he'd loved her for years, it was a revelation. She couldn't see it, couldn't fathom it, until that night.
He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and said one word: "Bonnie." He spoke her name in a soft voice, caressing the syllables, like a supplicant praying.
"What?" Scarlett croaked in surprise. She didn't expect this turn in the conversation and she stared at him in perplexity. Bonnie had been the single best thing to come out of their marriage. Her death led inexorably to its undoing. Why even speak of this? Unless the specter of her death still haunted him. All these years gone by, and he still mourned that child! Suddenly Scarlett was filled with compassion for Rhett.
"Our marriage turned out differently than I expected," he said sadly. "When I left you, I thought I would come back, but quickly realized, I couldn't. So I left that life behind. The only reminder I allowed myself was that portrait you gave me." The fleeting shadow of a smile crossed his face for a split second, then, he continued. "I left you, I left the country, and I never looked back."
He paused and breathed deeply, as if to gain control of an emotion, which if unleashed, would engulf him. "When Bonnie died, something inside me died as well. Guilt consumed me. Going back to Atlanta would only have served to again plunge me into the blackest despair I have ever known. I saved myself by going far away, so far away that I could push all those memories aside and tell myself it didn't matter. But, of course, it did matter. As the years went by, an overwhelming sense of emptiness grew, and the festering feelings I refused to face were like a toxin seeping into my system, poisoning me. Finally, I succumbed."
For one horrific moment Scarlett remembered arguing with Rhett over Bonnie's lifeless body, calling him a murderer. Remembered him asking her to be merciful, yet she showed him none. Her words poured out in a desperate attempt to bind the wound Rhett exposed. "You weren't to blame! It was an accident! All those awful things I said to you, I didn't mean it. I hurt so badly that I lashed out at you, but I didn't mean it. Months later, I wanted to tell you, to apologize, but you were so distant..." Scarlett's voice tailed off. He had a look on his face of raw agony, as though reliving it.
"Don't. It serves no purpose now," he said hoarsely.
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
"So, given my utter failure as a wife, why didn't you file the divorce papers?" Scarlett asked quietly. "You could have had a fresh start with Mademoiselle Durocher and had many children."
He shook his head, "You have no idea what you're saying. Céline Durocher died of consumption in Switzerland nearly ten years ago. Two months before she died she delivered a child, my child, born dead."
"Your child?" Scarlett gasped, shocked and temporarily rendered speechless.
"Yes, my child. At least that's what I was led to believe. She attempted to conceal the pregnancy, and died before I learned of it. I came to hate her for it. To forget her, to forget a string of disappointments in life, I took up the habit of drinking absinthe, at times even mixing it in brandy. I quickly fell ill. When I was told there was no hope of recovery, my physician recommended a warmer climate. My sister begged me to come back to the States. I've been here almost two years, for the most part alone."
Again, they were silent. There was nothing to say. Rhett laid bare his soul. The disclosure of his slide into dissoluteness, then, illness left Scarlett aghast. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, and tell him she had always been there waiting, but it was too late to go back and undo the damage.
Finally, Scarlett noticed the clouds moving. They were no longer sitting in the full sun. She pulled up the blanket spread across his lap and draped over his legs, and tucked it tightly around his chest and rubbed his arms, covered only by a light-weight nightshirt and his heavier dressing gown. With true concern, she asked Rhett if he felt chilled.
His eyes were closed and he looked utterly exhausted. "Let's go back in. I'd like to sit by the fire."
Scarlett pushed the chair back through the French doors and positioned Rhett before the fireplace. Then she stirred the coals and added a few pieces of wood to the grate until flames leaped up. Dusting her hands off, she said, "There, that should burn nicely for a little while. Would you like me to call Joseph, or," giving Rhett a sidelong look she asked, "should I stay?"
"Stay." He paused and then looked at her, his eyes heavy-lidded with fatigue, "I shocked you, didn't I? Telling you about Céline."
Scarlett gazed into the fire. "It's none of my business."
"No, it isn't any of your business, but I chose to share it with you." The chilly air which surrounded them on the piazza seemed to cling to them, despite the warmth of the fire, and Rhett shivered.
"Why?" Scarlett, mesmerized by the flames, couldn't bring herself to look at him as he spoke for fear of what he would reveal next. She'd heard too much already.
"So you'd understand."
"Understand?"
"Yes, understand that out of the life we shared, you were left with the better part." He pointed to the large envelope from Wade and his children, now lying on the end table next to the chaise. He sighed heavily. "I ran away and only compounded my unhappiness."
"You could have come back! We would have welcomed you with open arms," Scarlett cried.
"No," he replied, firmly, bluntly.
It was the bitterest word Scarlett had ever heard. She softly moaned a plaintive query, "Why?"
"I explained."
"Bonnie?"
"Yes."
For a quiet moment she pondered the last half hour and the harvest she'd reaped, of twenty-seven years worth of hidden pain. One question was left unanswered, the most important in Scarlett's mind. "But you still never told me what I mean to you."
"I thought we had established just what our feelings for each other were last night."
"You never answered me directly when I asked you. You always have to control any given situation." It was now Scarlett's turn to expose her own pain, long-stored, and carefully concealed. "You torment me, for your amusement it seems, and it gives you the sense you can control something in your life, as life slips through your grasp. When I finally knew my heart, you denied me a place in your life, and now you want me to watch you die! Is that why you asked me to come here, to twist the knife one last time?
"We have both paid dearly for the blunders we made in our marriage. I thought this time together could be a way to reach out and make peace," her face softened. "After all, Christmas is the time of year when we think of peace on earth and goodwill toward all." She turned to face him. Her face was flushed from the warmth of the fire, as well as the passion of her outburst. "I came because you asked, I stayed because you asked. Yet, I don't understand why. If the only reason I'm here is to determine when you need drugs to help you die, please, find someone else."
"Since we never divorced, having you here now seems right. You know the vows; you've repeated them several times: 'til death do us part." Rhett paused, considering how much more he wanted to say before he continued. "The last time I met him in Paris, my friend Degas encouraged me to return to you. We were both in poor health and alone. Genius though he is, the old fool is quite sentimental and always regretted that he had no family. Somehow, he managed to persuade me to tell him about our relationship. He told me if he had a wife, he wouldn't care what happened in the past, he would go to her. I almost called for you when I first returned to the States, but couldn't do it. We must live in the present, we can't go back; you understand that better than most people." He held out his hand to her, and she slid forward in her chair and leaned toward him, extending her hand. He clasped it.
Rhett gave her a penetrating look, "I've always had an aversion to honest discourse with you. It was one cause of the failure of our marriage. Scarlett, I have an affectionate regard for you, but not love. I'm sorry if this sounds selfish, but I sent for you because I need someone here who cares about me, cares about me enough to let me die in peace, not make demands that I can't meet. If this is something you can't do, I don't want to keep you away from your family. You're free to leave."
She squeezed his hand gently. Slowly her eyes opened to the truth of the situation, and she could see he was cutting his ties with life, not seeking to reclaim them. "I can't leave you now. It is as you say, for me to be here is to honor my vows to you. Besides, I refused the divorce all those years, I owe you this."
He nodded as he gazed into the fire. His energy was spent, it was time to go back to his bed, but he needed to tell Scarlett one last thing.
"Do you remember the night Melanie died, when I told you I was looking for peace?"
She nodded.
By now Rhett was emotionally, as well as physically, drained. His voice sounded thin and weak. "I never really found it. Yet, having you here this last week, has brought me a measure of peace I haven't felt in quite some time."
"It's a hard thing, when your head and your heart are at odds. I know that struggle all too well." She stood up and moved to the back of the invalid chair, leaned forward and looped her arms around Rhett's neck. She kissed the top of his head and then lightly rested her cheek there as Rhett reached across his chest and caressed her forearm.
"I want to show you I care. I don't want to hurt you or make you feel angry or bitter."
"Let the bugles sing truce?" he asked, echoing his own words to her from long ago, in Kennedy's store.
She recognized those words, and smiled faintly at the memory. "That's it."
They both chuckled softly.
A/N - I will be posting another short chapter later this evening.