Chapter 38

The sun was unrelentingly harsh in the midday sun. Sweat glistened on his forehead and fell in drops to the ground after trailing down his pale skin. Ashely's hand trembled as he lifted the lid off of the ancient metal box, the hinges creaked, protesting the intrusion. But the box itself only contained a slim volume. Ashley was quite surprised to find only a book contained within the metal walls. The pages were old, lightly brittle with age, obviously the book had sat here for many years waiting fo rthe moment when he or one of his descendants would pull it from its rest. There was nothing on the cover of the book to explain what it contained, no writing or inspcription marred the simple lines of the facade. And so with the greatest of care, Ashley slowly opened the book. He slowly turned the pages, finding at first a brief family history up until the point of his birth. The ink had faded so that it was hardly darker than the paper it had been inscribed upon. And then he came across what seemed almost a letter, yet at the same time, almost a diary or journal entry.

In it John Wilkes carefully written script was a letter written many years before. Ashley smoothed the faded paper and began to read:

April 16, 1841.

My son was born five years ago today. All this book contains is for him and for baby India and for any other siblings that may follow. The Missouri Compromise and other agreements have done little to pacify the South. I must preface this with the admission that I am a devoted Southerner. I know that there is much talk about going to war against the North. Some are calling for Secession. I hate to think about what war would bring to our doorstep, for I do not see the rest of the states allowing us to leave the union without a fight. Some of my friends would consider my thoughts blasphemous. I do not wish ill of the South, but I also must protect my family. My little Ashely must be provided for. And so I am leaving in this cornerstone of the home I am building a record of my financial holding outside of America. Unlike some, I can see that if we were to fight the North, we could not win because we do not have the munitions factories and industries that the North abounds in. We have King Cotton and little else.

I hope that we can win. I hope that even outnumbered we can triumph like they did at Marathon or like David and Israelites against the Philistines. I long for the security and stability and confidence to know that my son will be raised in a world better than my own, but if we go to war that cannot be guaranteed. I shall keep the bulk of my money here in Georgia, and only a portion will go to the banks abroad.

And so I leave within this volume a list of accounts that I know by heart that will be given to Ashely when he is a man, instead of a new born babe in arms. I pray that he will never need to remember my words or my list of accounts. But this is the only future I can hope to guarantee for him.

John Wilkes.

Ashley's eyes had grown misty as he read. His father had seen as he had seen that war was not the answer, but they both had gone off to war and fought. And in fighting John Wilkes left his life behind and never saw the full reality of his own insight. His words written two decades before the war seemed almost prophetic now.

Ashley continued in his journey of discovery as he carefully turned the brittle pages. The pages that followed were covered with a series aof numbers and figures. The figures swam before his eyes. At first they made no sense, they seemed ad if written in an lien language incomprehensible to him. But then slowly he realized what information this volume possessed. It was a series of bank accounts as his father had described in the letter. Ashley knew that if he had the mind for figures like Scarlett he would have been able to quickly understand the amount his father had kept away. The amount hidden away in these accounts was staggering even from the little figuring that Ashely had mentally done, but logically, Ashley tried to keep himself from counting this ship before it came in. His father could have easily depleted them at some time and bought into Confederate stocks. But Ashley clung to the narrow volume that very well could restore his life to the life he had imagined.

But it would not bring back Melanie.

Nothing could do that.

Scarlett carefully curled the final dark curl and allowed it to drop into place. She could have allowed one of the darkies to fix Carreen's hair for today, but it was too important to be entrusted to anyone else. Scarlett carefully placed several pins in position before allowing Carreen to view her creation in the mirror.

"O, Scarlett!" she exclaimed. "You have done an amazing job. Why, my hair has never look so wonderful. You are a darling Scarlett." Carreen bubbled with excitement as Suellen glared at her sisters from across the room. She had never even had a nice wedding when she married Will. It had been very simple partially because everyone in the county still believed that she had killed her father. But Suellen blocked that thought from her mind. She refused to accept any blame onto her own shoulders. Scarlett always got everything and now she was babying Carreen like she was some little princess. But there was no one to complain to . And so she sat allowing the resentment to rise in her throat like bile.

Carreen was oblivious to her sister's black mood. She was floating and in such perfect happiness that nothing negative could affect her. Scarlett was in a boisterous mood. Her aubergine gown seemed to make her eyes greener and her hair more lustrous. Ella fluttered about the room practicing walking like a lady for her big moment. Her dress was made from the same material as Scarlett's but it was fuller and much shorter with rows of ruffles and ribbons bedecking it.

Scarlett slipped from the room quietly as Carreen asked to be alone so that she could pray before the ceremony. Scarlett had only taken a few steps when she noticed the door to her room was slightly ajar. She slipped across the floor and peaked inside to find Rhett holding Suellen and Will's youngest who had obviously been crying. The child looked perfectly content in Rhett's secure arms, so content in fact that the babies eyes fluttered shut and settled on its tear stained cheek. And in that moment Scarlett longed to be able to see Rhett holding her child again. She longed to give him a baby as bright and beautiful as Bonnie had been. Scarlett internally vowed that she would not make the same mistakes that she had made with Bonnie. She had learned to be a mother in the time since Bonnie's death.

Something in Scarlett's movements must have alerted Rhett to her presence. He turned slightly towards her and grinned. His free handmade its way to his lips as he offered as cautious "shhhh." Scarlett walked softly to beside the bed where Rhett sat. She held out her hands, offering to take the baby. Rhett reluctantly agreed. But it warmed his heart to watch Scarlett holding a baby again. This child looked nothing like any of Scarlett's babies had looked. This child looked like Will, with fine blond hair so pale that the child looked as bald as an old man.

But Scarlett seemed completely at ease with the child in her arms. She sang softly in her slightly off-key soprano. But at that moment no sound could have been sweeter to his ears.

"Rhett, I... I..." Scarlett stammered unsure of how to broach the subject with her husband.

"Yes, Scarlett. Please, out with it. Go ahead and spit it out." Rhett was direct as always in prying the information from her lips.

"I want to have a baby." She said looking down, afraid to see anything other than excitement and joy in his eyes.

"Not now Scarlett, not yet..." he firmly told her.

"But Rhett..." Scarlett continued.

But outside the door came the distinct sounds of Prissy bellowing, "Miss Scarlett, Miss Scarlett...Mr. Wilkes is here ta see yah. He says it be right ipo'tant." Scarlett glared as she handed the baby back to Rhett.

Rhett's eyes still held the resolute look in his eyes. "We'll talk about it later Scarlett." She turned and hurried out of the room determined to get her own way. Shewas still Scarlett O'Hara Butler. And no one stopped her.