Inspiration:

"Everyone who terrifies you is sixty-five percent water.

And everyone you love is made of stardust, and I know sometimes you cannot even breathe deeply, and the night sky is no home,

and you have cried yourself to sleep enough times that you are down to your last two percent, but

nothing is infinite,

not even loss.

You are made of the sea and the stars, and one day

you are going to find yourself again."

—Saltwater, Finn Butler

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 33

Early afternoon by the time Rhett's train arrived in Atlanta and he felt like he'd ridden under the railway car instead of in it. An extremely rough trip, or perhaps it just felt so due to his injuries. Of course, the train stopped at every single podunk town along the way. In addition to the usual rocking, each time it stopped, his torso lurched forward, and when it started again, it lurched back. Even in the luxury car, he felt every minute movement. In a word, he had been miserable.

For the last two hours, all he could think was that he needed to get somewhere to rest quickly. It took all his strength not to hobble as he disembarked.

All the plans he made on the train ride fell apart as he realized that he didn't want to be seen in his current state. Too many people would question his bedraggled appearance at Belle's this time of day. She'd had considerable staff turnover of late. Although he would need to visit soon to catch up on gossip, he would rather his questionable health not add fodder for even more. There would likely be no one trustworthy to aid him at the National until later in the evening, either.

Rhett turned the key to the Inman House that Scarlett sent care of his attorney over in his pocket. Pork should be there and could help him with the wrappings. Scarlett would most probably not be at home until later in the afternoon, so hopefully, he'd be safe for a couple of hours. Long enough to get cleaned up and changed and rested.

As he stood contemplating his next move, he spied a praline cart directly positioned in front of the arrival platform with Hotel Robillard emblazoned jauntily across the front in gold letters. Fanny Welburn and India Wilkes waved to him from where they stood beside it.

So much for not being spotted right off.

"Ladies," he tipped his hat and held his spine ramrod straight. The effort made him clench his teeth.

"Captain Butler! How nice to see you," Fanny gushed, while India managed a polite smile and offered her hand after Fanny. "Have you come for the hotel's pre-opening festivities this weekend?"

"Why, yes," he returned without missing a beat. "I wouldn't have missed them for the world." He looked to the cart, the scent of buttery brown caramelized sugar and toasted pecans assailing his nostrils. He'd finished off the benne wafers a couple of hours ago. "And what do we have here?"

"Oh, we're giving out samples of the hotel's pralines," Fanny scooped one up and handed it to him on a square of waxed paper. "I'm just working the cart while waiting for another batch to be delivered. Try it! The chef is simply superb —Scarlett, well, Mr. Erickson, actually, snatched her from The Commander's Palace in New Orleans."

"Ah," Rhett took the offered praline. Of course, Erickson hired her. "Yes, I believe Scarlett mentioned that in her letters." Actually, George Trenholm shared that little tidbit. "I've been held up in the Caribbean due to several spring storms but got here as quickly as I could."

He looked at Fanny. Of all people to be filling in. "So you are helping Scarlett?"

"Oh, I am taking her place there this week while she's at Tara," Fanny managed to look bashful. "You know, to cover for her while she rests a bit. Mr. Erickson insisted she take time off. She's been working day and night and needs to relax and rejuvenate."

She's not here. He cursed his heart as it sank. Weak, floppy thing is the bane of my existence.

"So kind of you to fill in for a few days."

"Yes, well, it was the least I could do. All the progress with the hotel has certainly had a positive influence. She's found India a position as well, and I've been working setting up the gift shop the last couple of days." Fanny sounded absolutely giddy. "The social calendar is already much improved with her bringing in new quality people and working with General Hampton and everything else, isn't it India?"

"Yes," India agreed, in a much more subdued tone than her companion. "Quite the blessing."

Fanny nearly beamed at him. "Scarlett has been so wonderful, and with the foundation and the hotel, she's already helping so many good people out."

India gave her a warning glance and may have poked her in the ribs with her elbow.

"Well, he's her husband. Surely we can discuss it with him," Fanny huffed before ignoring the other woman to continue. "Mrs. Bonnell is looking to open a haberdashery, and Scarlett has all but guaranteed the funds once she gets her business plan completed and approved. Such a lovely way to honor your daughter."

At the mention of Bonnie, Rhett's posture became stiffer, if possible. What the hell was Fanny blathering on about?

"This Saturday, she has a pre-opening supper planned for all of our circle, and an Easter egg roll and special tea for the children with games and sweets, it's just so generous and …."

"I think so too," he interrupted, a flash of pain preceding his mask sliding into place as he looked around and noticed several school-age children running about. Of course, it would be time for Easter break. In another lifetime, he never would have been unaware.

"And a wonderful idea, this cart," he turned to take his leave. "Scarlett is lucky to have you ladies."

"Oh, Ella's going to be fit to be tied when she realizes she missed giving out the pralines. She helped with the beignets last week and entertained every single person she spoke with all morning." India finally warmed up when she realized he was going and stepped to the side to allow him to pass.

Rhett's eyebrows went into his hairline. Shy, meek Ella? "Did she, now? I'm sure she will regale me with all the details."

"Are you quite alright, Captain Butler?" Fanny seemed to just notice the bandage on his forehead, carefully but apparently not fully concealed by the lock of hair he'd pulled down over it.

"Oh," he waved it off. "A mere bump on the head. And yes, I am fine, just travel weary and ready to see my family." The words rang strangely true.

"Here comes Babette, the chef." India waved down the platform to another cart rounding the corner two blocks away.

Not wanting to be embroiled in any more discussion, Rhett pulled his hat down over his face and swiveled to depart, then turned abruptly back, grimacing at the movement before he could stop himself.

"Might you ladies do me a favor and not mention the fact that you saw me to anyone?" he requested in the smoothest of intonations, turning on his best charming manner. "I'm trying to surprise Scarlett when she returns. I would be forever in your debt."

Both ladies titteringly agreed. He walked as quickly as he could away and hailed the first hansom cab he saw.

"He was acting a little strange, wasn't he?" Fanny watched the cab drive away with a bemused expression. India snorted. "He's always been strange, but yes." She frowned slightly, nodding her head in agreement.

Interesting interaction with India and Fanny, of all women to be singing Scarlett's praises. And the foundation talk, and Bonnie, what was that about? Something niggled in his brain, a faint recollection, but he was too weary to pursue it. He got settled in the seat as best he could and resolved to ponder on it when he felt more alert.

On the short trip, Rhett wondered what kind of a home he was heading to in such a hurry. More than likely, a scaled-down version of the mansion, awash with any and all tawdry decorations promoted in the latest Harper's Bazaar.

Except it was anything but. Inman Park certainly gave the impression that well-to-do families resided there yet held none of the outrageous displays of affluence Scarlett so adored. When the cab pulled up, Rhett regarded the pretty mint green home, so much smaller than the mansion, yet large as far as usual Atlanta houses go. Double porch swings, each big enough for a man his size to stretch out and nap on, flanked the front doorway, and white rocking chairs adorned the front of the roomy wrap-around porch, both features Scarlett had considered much too pedestrian when they were building their own house.

For a moment, he flashed back to pleasant evenings seemingly a lifetime ago spent on a smaller version of such a porch swing at Aunt Pittypat's. He wondered if Scarlett thought of that when she purchased this house but quickly dismissed the idea. Certainly not, as she was the least sentimental person he knew.

Yet the outside gave off an attractive and, dare he say, charming appeal, with flowers and garden beds abounding, but not overdone. Nothing to indicate the owner meant to show off wealth. Cheerful, not pretentious at all. How curious.

At first, he knocked on the front door. And knocked. When he knocked for the fourth time, and there was no answer, he let himself in.

He called out in the foyer for Pork, Dilcey and Prissy; again, no response. The interior presented another surprise. Aside from a random piece here and there he recognized, he could place none of the furnishings from their former abode. Irritated that he felt like he was trespassing somewhat, he wandered around the house and up the stairs.

The first door he opened appeared to be Wade's, with darker furniture than the rest of the house and masculine colors. There were a few books on his desk, the usual law tomes, and several on architecture with a stack of drawings beside them.

Next room, obviously Ella's, sweet and light, with a yellow and green bedspread and curtains, plenty of pink as well, dolls and tea sets. He flipped through the Latin and French instruction books on her little white desk and then wandered to her bedside and picked up the—cookbook by Alexander Dumas? His forehead creased as he studied the cover and opening pages. There were bookmarked recipes on rabbit tongue dishes and roasted elephant legs and—cookies? He set it carefully back in place.

He couldn't help but open each door, wondering if there was a nursery, a room for Bonnie's things. Of course not; that made no sense. Still, he looked.

He found Scarlett's room at the very end of the hall, her scent wafting before he even crossed the threshold. No huge bed, but a big enough one. Luxurious bedclothes but nothing pink save the roses on the mantel, not what he would have guessed. He did recognize some of the items on her vanity, downright modest compared to her former one, still as crowded as ever with rouge pots and hairpins and ribbons. Some things don't change, eh, my dear?

There were books on her bedside table as well, and his pace picked up as he crossed the room to flip through them. Confusion creased his brow. A reading primer, of all things. Volumes stacked by her bed from Shakespeare to Austen. A copy of Frankenstein. He remembered his dream and set it back down. A picture of Bonnie as an infant on the wall. He swallowed as he passed it.

Her closet looked to be an entire bedroom converted. He opened the bathroom door to reveal a large clawfoot tub with a separate gas-fired water heater beside it. Goes through another door to find a separate water closet on the other side and then the room that is obviously his.

The furniture is similar to his last but much lighter, with white walls and wainscotting, and all his things placed in there, which were not much. He had to admit it was tastefully appointed. Also completely impersonal, save the few pictures.

He sat down heavily on the bed. For the past eighteen months, he had paid little attention to Scarlett or how she lived. Had she been changing her tastes and desires all along? Something about her going against her nature didn't set exactly right, even as much as he had criticized it. He'd lived in a fog most of the time, coming up for air whenever he left Atlanta. He mostly spent his time in town with the children, and she'd watched them, mostly trying not to speak for fear of aggravating him. So unlike Scarlett, to fear, but he could see it.

Despite all his denials, it softened him. It all was softening him, the time passing, Wade and Ella growing and talking and spending every minute they could with him on his infrequent and brief visits, Scarlett trying so hard, walking on eggshells, behaving so very circumspect and in contrast to her true character, desperately covering up those spots.

On the last trip, however, when she broke, took a chance and tried to touch him, and he turned on her, a wounded animal, a rabid dog. He couldn't let her see him soften, couldn't bare his belly. Not yet; not then, anyway.

Rhett wandered back downstairs. He'd had dinner on the train, and the praline sample had been enjoyable but, of course, not enough. In the kitchen, he found a bowl of fried chicken covered with a cloth in the icebox as well as what looked to be a pickled corn and cucumber salad. On the counter sat a plate of cheese biscuits and an apple pie. He made a plate and a pitcher of cold water and headed to the back porch doors off the dining room, situated on the tree-lined side of the house, intent on enjoying his meal in the shade and spring breeze. Perhaps afterward, he could snooze in the rocking chair.

When he opened the door, however, he didn't find more rocking chairs, but a sleeping porch, and a spacious one at that. He paused there in the doorway for a moment. The wood floor became wider and perfectly accommodated the array of beds present. The largest one, of course, would be Scarlett's, and two smaller ones for Wade and Ella. Wire mesh screens covered three sides of the room, and the door propped open for more breeze; it was curtained, he presumed to keep bugs out at night.

The porch provided a panoramic view of the back of the property, what looked to be a carriage house and servants' quarters to the left, and a guest house bordering the street at the far end.

Rhett surveyed the light and welcoming space, gauzy white curtains blowing all around. An abandoned checker game took up one corner, another hosted a puzzle table, and here were the magazines, stacks of Harper's and Godey's beside the wicker sofa, along with several financial publications. He could see them in his mind's eye, after supper. Almost smiled. This is why the parlor appears unused. They spend their evenings out here. He searched for the familiar blanket of cynicism he used to cover all things regarding Scarlett but couldn't seem to find it at that moment.

The Saint Bernard, asleep by the big bed, jumped up and ambled over.

"Good boy," Rhett said. "You always remember me." He and Scarlett bought the dog for Wade on their honeymoon, so he was getting up in years. Bernie let himself be petted for a few moments before he wandered out the porch door.

He sat down in a rattan chair and finished off his impromptu supper. It would be too hot in the Georgia heat in a matter of weeks, but on this breezy spring day with the shade trees all around, the sleeping porch would be the coolest place in the house. He retrieved his valise from the foyer. Rhett laid a robe out, hesitated, and after a moment removed the small velvet bag he'd filled on a whim in the wee morning hours with an assortment of sea glass and coins. Wearily removed his jacket and cravat and boots, stripped to his undershirt and shorts, and climbed beneath the light cotton coverlet on the big bed. He considered trying to re-wrap his ribs himself but knew it would be a fruitless and comical effort with little chance of success.

He propped up the pillows and leaned back against them, immediately enveloped in the faint scent of her. A month, nay a week ago, it would have sent him searching for another place to lay down his head. Not now, though, he thought, slightly disconcerted. He felt almost calmed by it. Strange. He probably wasn't thinking straight, he told himself.

Though he couldn't help but admit that since recent events, not to mention his conversations with his mother, the world appeared a bit lighter; other than his concerns over the behaviors of his bull-headed wife. Even though something about that situation made him feel alive again. A challenge, something to get his blood pumping.

Yet that ever-present anger, the thin trickle of his youth which had grown into a river after his casting out and an ocean over the years and then the tragedies of his marriage, didn't seem to be present; or at least, as present. He was sure he could conjure it up if he wanted. But he didn't want to conjure it. He wanted to sleep.

Must be the drugs and the exhaustion, he told himself again. This time, though, he wasn't so sure. He couldn't be certain, but something felt almost like peace.

He took a half dose of laudanum and laid his head down again, rubbing the treasures between his fingers until he finally slept, dreaming of early boyhood pleasures and a time before pain.

OOOOooooOOOOoooo

Ella and Wade stuck close to Mammy the rest of Tuesday afternoon as the children played in the cabins and outside by the creek beds and the river. Scarlett stayed busy visiting with Mammy and the children until supper time when everyone trailed back up to the house to find an impromptu meal set out on the front porch. The ham and cake went over fantastically, and Scarlett whiled away the hours before bedtime with Ella and her nieces on the back end of the porch, far around the corner where their shenanigans couldn't be seen.

Wade and Beau spent a good part of the evening apparently planning a secret midnight trek down to the river to see the wolf, but Susie ratted them out right quick and put an end to that.

As they all went off to bed, Suellen wondered aloud why the girls were so suddenly fascinated with their aunt, and the next morning at breakfast, Scarlett supposed it all became quite clear.

"You look mighty handsome today, Mr. Benteen," Cara passed the biscuits to her father. "I simply adore the way that shirt brings out the blue in your eyes."

Will studied his middle daughter, then looked to the eldest and youngest on either side, both managing to simper and make eyes at him at the same time.

"It's a little early in the morning for all that," he finally said, sipping on his coffee. Scarlett couldn't tell for sure, but it looked like was trying to hide a smile behind his cup.

Reenie gave him a sidelong glance that could only be described as coquettish. Ella just grinned.

"How you do go on, Papa," Susie rapped him on the arm with a folded fan that seemed to materialize from nowhere. Suellen promptly reached over and took it from her.

Susie pouted at her mother, who scowled at Scarlett in return.

"You all have to stop this," Suellen grumbled at her daughters. "It's making me dizzy to look at the three of you batting your eyelashes like toads in a hailstorm."

"Oh, but Aunt Scarlett said we have to practice to get it right," Cara supplied helpfully. "And so we can play Frozen Scarlett correctly."

"Yes, it's just play practice and all in the name of fun, Suellen," Scarlett folded her hands primly in her lap. "Besides, you didn't get to go to finishing school, so I thought I would help you out with teaching your daughters some social skills."

The sound of sputtering coffee came from Will's direction. Beau and Wade exchanged an amused look. Ella tried to contain her giggles. Unsuccessfully.

"Why did your parents send Scarlett and not you? Was it the war?" Had to give Will credit for trying to deflect.

"No," Suellen said shortly. "They had to send Scarlett because she was too wild. She threw rocks and jumped in the river with all the neighbor boys and rode bareback and played yard games with the field hands' children all the time. I behaved and listened to my mother."

Wade and Ella appeared to gobble this knowledge right up. Scarlett fought the timeless urge to pull her sister's hair and stick out her tongue.

"Well, it's too bad. Al little charm school might have done you some good," she managed smoothly.

"Not so sure they even thought about it after sending you," Suellen curled her lip. "It turned you into a flirting monster."

"Master, Suellen, not monster. I am a flirting master," this in a supremely admonishing tone. "Vocabulary is also something they taught at the Fayetteville Academy."

Susie barely suppressed a chuckle. Scarlett shot her a sideways glance. There might be hope for that child.

"The girls told me how you loved that game," she continued. "And how, when you're playing the part of Frozen— well, me—you laugh all the way up to the time you die."

"Not entirely true," Suellen met her gaze. "Sometimes I laugh while I'm dying."

Scarlett frowned and narrowed her eyes.

"Sometimes she laughs after she dies," Reenie piped up, "and we have to poke her with a stick to make her stop."

"Sometimes even poking her doesn't work," Cara added glumly.

Will made another sound and looked down under the table, sucking his cheek in on the right side of his face. He appeared to be intently examining a spot on the rug.

Scarlett's eyes flashed and her color heightened. "Well, you just call me next time and I'll poke her hard enough to stop. Guaranteed."

Suellen glanced at her husband, then pursed her lips and looked quickly away.

"Are you alright, Will?" Scarlett snapped.

"Uh huh," his voice sounded tight and a good two octaves higher than normal.

Ella slowed her giggling at Scarlett's sharp tone but didn't stop. All the nieces stared wide-eyed, wondering if there was to be a fight. Wade's color climbed with his eyebrows and Beau studied his lap, not before his aunt spied the amusement in his eyes.

A tiny vein throbbed in Suellen's temple as she turned back and stared at her husband, as though willing him to meet her eyes, which he doggedly refused to do. Her lips quirked in a most telltale manner.

Suddenly the hilarity of the moment began to bubble up and overcome Scarlett. She gritted her teeth, and with both hands gripped the aging table, so full of her family. She gave one more weak push at trying not to laugh before finally giving in with a most unladylike roar, which everyone joined.

OOOOooooOOOOoooo

The family moved out on the front porch sometime later, as the children ran out to start their many plans for the day and Will readied to go out to the fields.

"I'd like to go see the Tarletons today." Scarlett waved at the children as they headed down to the cabins.

"I'll take you in the wagon, or you can drop me off in the fields and take it yourself," Will suggested.

"Thank you, but I think I'd like to ride out there myself."

Will and Suellen exchanged a look.

The thing is—" Suellen began.

"Your saddle's out of commission," Will cut in. "It's waiting to go to the shop in Jonesboro right now. Can't even be looked at until late next week. He's backed up."

"My saddle? Why, I've hardly used it since I bought it just a year or so ago," Scarlett remarked, perplexed.

"I broke it." Suellen shot her a glare. Oh. Now she understood. Suellen broke her side-saddle trying to haul her oversized rear end up on it, and the leather pommel gave way under the extreme strain.

Scarlett opened her mouth to berate her sister when she saw the look on Will's face and shut it. You could try not impregnating my sister every year or so, and then she wouldn't break my saddle, she thought darkly before opting for diplomacy. She liked Will, but he was a man, after all. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little bad for Suellen, who had lost her last two babies but gained ten pounds with each pregnancy, whether the baby survived or not.

"Well, in that case, perhaps we can go to the train station first and pick up the other load I left there. The Tarletons might have a use for it at their home, or the schoolhouse," this allowed as graciously as she could.

"I'll get the wagon." Will took off for the barn.

"So when did it happen?" Scarlett wrapped her arms around the front column and stared down the driveway like she had done so many times before. Suellen raised an eyebrow.

"A few months ago. That pommel was defective and the entire thing cheaply constructed."

"Not the saddle, Suellen." Scarlett rolled her eyes. Also, it was the best quality money could buy, but that's beside the point.

"You and Will. If I didn't know better, I'd say you two have grown rather close."

"It's that obvious, eh?" Suellen smiled almost dreamily. Scarlett pinched her lightly on the arm.

Did you ever in your novel reading come across ...

"It snuck up on us after a while, I don't know that I'm completely in love yet, but it may be happening after nearly ten years of marriage and three children.

"He's good and smart, and he knows I'm mean and sometimes awful, but he treats me like I'm the best thing that ever happened to him."

Scarlett's lips twisted. "Sounds nice."

Suellen frowned. "There was no excuse for what you did, and it hurt me badly. But Frank—well, I cared for him, sure, but Will," she searched for the right words. "Will—"

"Makes you laugh."

"Yes."

"Laughter's important," Scarlett thought back to a time when a certain someone could make her laugh almost on command. "And he improves your disposition."

"Yes."

"And you love him."

"Yes."

"I'll be damned."

"Well, why wouldn't I? I know he doesn't have our education or upbringing. But he's kind and works hard. He never scolds, and I've gained all this weight, and he says he likes it. Because I'm healthy, and not like after the war. More to love." She laughed lightly.

"And he dotes on the girls and doesn't fuss about a boy or anything else, and I don't know if you recall, but Frank could be fussy."

"Do tell," Scarlett's tone was as dry as unbuttered toast.

Suellen gave her a reproachful and sullen look. "You shouldn't have married him, and you know it."

Scarlett sighed. "I didn't know a single other thing to do, Suellen. And I was so tired and hungry and worried about Wade. I went to Rhett in that dress made from Mother's portieres, and he turned me down, and I wanted to die from the humiliation and absolute terror of not knowing how we were going to survive. I actually fainted when he said no. Did I ever tell you that? And I never faint.

"So I leave that jailhouse and Frank pulls up. It felt like divine intervention. All I could think about was facing all of you and telling you I'd lost the farm. And then I realized I was going to have to look Pa in the face and tell him I'd failed, that our home was gone with the wind like everything else, the Yankees and Jonas Wilkerson took it all, and he'd have to go live with his brothers in Savannah as a charity case. And I swear, Suellen if it hadn't been for Wade and my pride, I might have stepped out in front of a moving carriage. "

Sueleen gave her a highly skeptical look at that.

"That would have been too bad. The girls really love staging plays in that curtain dress."

Scarlett stared at her, horrified. "I told Mammy to light a bonfire with it years ago!"

"Mammy does what she wants. You know that." Suellen held her gaze steady for a split second before she broke down and hooted.

"Very funny," Scarlett groused.

"Oh, but so worth it," Suellen giggled, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "Next time I get to feeling down I need to remember that look on your face. It will cheer me up mightily."

"So glad to be of help," Scarlett snipped. 'Anyway, I'm glad you're happy. When you first were married, you were so worried he wasn't a gentleman, and I thought perhaps you'd never get over that."

Oh, I'm glad he's not a gentleman," Suellen returned on the spot. "He does too many ungentlemanly things to me that I most enjoy."

Scarlett's mouth dropped open. She wouldn't be talking about that, would she? But one look at her sister's red face and sparkling eyes confirmed that she was indeed.

Scarlett blinked. "He's missing a leg."

"But he's such a hard worker. You've often said he can do the work of two able-bodied men, and I'll personally vouch for that." Suellen winked at her. Winked.

"You've been married three times, Scarlett. You're no blushing maiden. You know how unassuming and reserved he is around people? That all changes between the sheets. He isn't shy at all and takes charge," Suellen smiled as if to herself. "He's quite the beast. And we have a monstrously good time."

Just then, the beast in question pulled up in the wagon. Scarlett, struck speechless, closed her once-again gaping mouth and turned rather dazedly toward Will, who sat looking as calm and unperturbed as usual, his sleeves rolled up and his straw hat pushed back on his head.

Suellen grabbed her arm lightly. "You know what they say. It's always the quiet ones," she whispered in her ear, then leaned back as Scarlett boarded the wagon. "And the conversation about Frank is not over." Scarlett nodded, still mute for the moment. Will then took off, Suellen waving merrily as they departed.

OOOOooooOOOOoooo

Fun Facts:

Podunk town - A common implication of Podunk is that it's a place so dreary and remote that it's not even worth situating on a map. One of the most famous people to refer to Podunk was Mark Twain, who in 1869 wrote that a certain fact was known even "in Podunk, wherever that may be." —NPR

Window screens - When the Civil War began in 1861, the Gilbert and Bennett company, which made iron mesh, lost much of its Southern market. Therefore, the corporation expanded its product line to include affordable window screens for residential use. The screens were painted in order to reduce rust.

Sleeping porches became popular later in the 19th century and the start of the 20th century, but I'm sure people had them before they became popular. My great-grandmother had one in her house, and that house was ancient! Also, in this story Scarlett has too many beds in her new house, so she puts them out on the porch where it's cooler and voila! The sleeping porch is born.

A/N - it's been too long, peeps. Thank you to all those who expressed concern over my daughter, she is doing better but still has a long road ahead. This chapter, as I talked about before when I posted the spoilers and blurbs, was becoming unwieldy so I split it in two. I plan to post the second one by the end of the week, and the third one is also well into the works.

Also, there was a continuity problem in Chapter 32. Rhett leaves for Atlanta on Wednesday morning, not Thursday. It's important for proper flow. I fixed it; my apologies.

Please remember that it is Wednesday in the story. The storm that injured Rhett was Saturday night/Sunday morning. So it's been three days since he broke his ribs and got a concussion. That is not, by anyone's definition, forever. I acknowledge that it may feel that way since it's fanfic and written one chapter at a time, and not very quickly at that.

My baby brother is 39 years old and fell off a building and broke three ribs last October, a year ago. He missed a week of work, in which he was in incredible pain, very down and depressed. He had modern painkillers and whiskey. After a week, however, he was much improved as long as he slept sitting up and didn't twist around too much, and he went back to a physically demanding job, (although he had a hard time for a good while) so I am going by that. I myself suffered a concussion, as many of you know, back in June, and it took about a week for me to feel normal in the head.

The point is he is working almost nonsensically hard to get back to Scarlett despite his pain and injuries, because he thinks she may be in danger, and for other reasons he's hasn't been quite ready to face. I tried to make that clear.

Thank you for your many comments and encouragement. Let me know if you're still with me. It's all about you, folks … peace, misscyn.