"Yes sir," Wade said bravely, smiling at his mother.
"I want to stay here with mother," chirped Ella.
Scarlett forced herself to speak gently in a voice that wouldn't alarm her children. She was wild with agony, like an animal caught in a trap whose back has been broken instead of the neck. "Ella, do as your father asks."
Rhett was moved deeply despite the fact it was most likely a slip of the tongue that had just given him the title father. Despite the gravity of the current situation it touched him to know that she had meant what she'd told him earlier in the week about her considering him Wade and Ella's father.
"But mama..," whined Ella.
Rhett lifted her fro the bed and tickled her even as he set her back on her feet. "Go on Ella, your mother and I need to speak privately, you can come back in a little while."
Wade caught Ella's hand in his own and tugged her along with him. "Come on Ella, I'll let you chose your room first."
Wade's offer was just the encouragement Ella needed. She dutifully followed her brother into the hall and seconds later two sets of footfalls could be heard on the front stairs.
With the speed of a panther Rhett hurried to the door and shut it before coming back to her bed. "Doctor Cross?"
She shook her head no even as she began to sob helplessly. Gingerly Rhett seated himself on the bed next to her and with exaggerated care drew her into his arms slowly in measures waiting for any indication that he was causing her additional pain.
"She didn't mean to hurt me," said Scarlett softly through her tears.
"Sweetheart, I know that. What hurts?"
"My left hip, she bumped into it when she was bouncing and I moved the wrong way trying to," she gasped softly and leaned forward in his arms, shaking.
"I'd feel better if Doctor Cross came to see you, just to look you over." He stroked her hair before smiling ruefully. "Those are words I never expected to speak in my lifetime."
She rested her head against his chest, shuddering with sudden spasms of pain. She only shook her head no again. Rhett frowned.
"I saw your face when you lifted Ella onto the bed. My God you lost every bit of color from your face. You have to be more careful, you're supposed to be resting." He ran his hand up and down her back gently; though he sought to sooth her he also took comfort from just touching her.
"Is your lecture supposed to be comforting me?" she asked before taking several deep breaths.
He rested his chin on the top of her head. "No. I am telling you, stop pushing yourself so hard. You're going to kill yourself. You need to rest and if I have to handcuff you to this bed and stay by your side you are going to rest until you're well again."
His worry was balm on her still bruised ego. To have him hold her and voice his concerns about her health almost made being ill worth it. Why couldn't he have been so attentive after she had lost their baby? If he had then surely she would have realized that he loved her. They could have spent the last few years together instead of the separate hells they had each existed in.
The pain that had gripped her was slowly loosening its hold. She inhaled slowly, filling her lungs before breathing out in stages. She was feeling better. There was no reason to worry; she was well on the road to recovery. His chin still rested on her head and she could feel how tense his jaw was against her scalp. He truly was worried about her poor darling. "Aren't you exaggerating just a bit?" she asked softly.
He moved her gently so that she could rest her head on his chest. His heartbeat echoed in her ear and it was difficult to concentrate as she inhaled the scent of leather and cigars and clean starched linen that was so keenly Rhett.
"Scarlett, do you know what the first doctor to examine you said? He told me that we had better hurry and get you to the fort," he felt his throat constrict as he recalled the original grim assessment of her condition. "He said we had better hurry, he thought they might lose you. You were so pale and your breathing was so shallow that in that moment I regretted every word I said to you in that shack. Scarlett you opened your eyes for an instant and then you moaned and fainted again. You nearly died and it's my fault. If you had died the last words I would have said to you was something about you being a poison in my blood. I claimed that I had escaped from you, that I wouldn't destroy myself for you. Without you I don't know what I would do?"
"Become that old hermit at The Landing," she murmured flippantly.
He grinned in spite of himself. How queer to hear her echo the exact thought he had had earlier, without Scarlett and the children what would have become of him? How long could he have really stayed away before he returned to Atlanta, to his wife?
But his grin faded as he inhaled the fragrance of her hair. Twice in the short span of time they'd been married doctors had come to him with dire predictions. Twice she had been near death because of him. He fought against the urge to hold her tightly. "If you don't recover, if you are in pain months from now I'm responsible." He tipped her chin up so he could look her in the eyes. "You have to get well," he said with a gentle smile, "in part to salve my guilty conscience."
"Rhett, we had an accident. It was an act of God," she smiled at him, her voice gaining a teasing note, "and you Rhett Butler aren't a god, though you may believe differently. Besides I haven't lived the most exemplarily life, maybe this is God punishing me for my numerous sins."
He laughed softly. "There you go making everything about you, as usual."
She fluttered her lashes at him before a seductive smile curved her ruby lips. "As it should be, I warn you I am completely changing the subject starting," before he realized what she was about, Scarlett had reached her hand into Rhett's jacket pocket and withdrawn his pocket watch. He made a grab for it but Scarlett mistook his gesture and thought it was meant to be playful.
"Scarlett, don't. Give me that, please." His voice was firm and if Scarlett had been the type of wife to blindly obey her husband she would have immediately given Rhett back his watch.
Instead she laughed merrily and angled her upper body slightly to temporarily block him. "Don't what? Pick your pocket, I was going to give it back, I assure you." Before he could stop her she popped open the watch. From the way her shoulders tensed he could tell she had immediately noticed the inscription or rather the lack of one.
