Rhett Butler was a coward. A sniveling, lily-livered fraidy-cat.

Well, perhaps not sniveling. But still.

That phrase, that stupid, stupid phrase 'you take their love and hold it over their heads like a whip' still jumped in her mind. She'd wake up late at night, wondering. Turning it over. Didn't people use love all the time? Children used it against their parents to get toys, candy. Parents used it against their children to obtain obedience, respect.

Her mother had used it against her father, married him to try to forget her real love. Ashley used her love to protect Melly and Beau during the war, and to give himself a little ego boost all those years, at the expense of her marriage. She tasted bile whenever she thought of it.

And hadn't Rhett used his own love against her, when he took it away? Is fear a good reason? To withhold love, to withhold himself, even in intimate moments? Because he was afraid of the consequences? Isn't anyone afraid of the consequences of love, but they jump in anyway? Why couldn't he have jumped in, all in, just once, for her?

Some gambler he turned out to be.

Didn't make it right, that she might have used it against him. But the way Rhett had put it, he made it sound like she had invented the concept. And maybe, he was a little right, that she would have held his love over him, just a bit. But lord knows Rhett wouldn't have put up with much of that, even if she had tried more than a little. It really didn't make sense to her at all.

And it made Scarlett's head hurt. She didn't like thinking so much about it, round and round in circles. She needed to do something, take some action. Anything but this wallowing. Something to help her move on.

Yet it turned out that divorcing is not so easy. As luck would have it, a new Yankee lawyer had come to town, moving in around the corner from Kennedy's. Ennis King, Esquire, the shingle read above the offices, The Practices of Civil Law. Nothing civil about her case, she was afraid. She hoped he was new enough in town not to have any preconceived notions about the infamous Butler marriage.

She went on a Tuesday morning in April, not too long after her birthday. A belated birthday present, she told herself. Irony. Never too old to learn it.

A handsome man, mid to late 30's, looked up from his desk as she walked in. Sandy blond hair, curious, intelligent eyes. An air of breeding and education about him. After pleasantries and introductions, she got right to it.

"My husband and I are estranged, with little to no hope of reconciliation. I would like to look into divorce options." Oh. Oh. That was difficult to put into words. The Catholic church would never forgive her.

Mr. King lifted his eyebrows. "On what basis would you be seeking the divorce?"

She hesitated. She could name the long-term infidelities, the continuous abandonments. The rages. The drinking. The horrible, horrid mistakes. He still didn't sleep in the house when he came for visits most of the time. She was sure those were the issues he meant when Rhett had said she would have 'evidence' for a divorce.

There seemed to be a bigger umbrella, right on the tip of her tongue, that encompassed it all.

Mr. King waited, watching her carefully.

"Cruelty," she said after the uncomfortable pause. "I want to divorce him on the basis of cruelty." There. The words felt so right coming out of her mouth.

"It's very important to me," she paused here. "To me, for myself, that I am the one who does the divorcing." She needed to be the one who called the shots on this one. He had always called the shots.

She didn't look like the kind of woman a man would treat cruelly, he thought. She looked like a prize and carried herself as a person of quality, beauty, intelligence. He had learned, however, that you never could tell. And these Southern women? He mentally shook his head. Still waters run very deep.

"How so?" Mr. King asked, leaning back in his chair. She looked at him quizzically. "How was he cruel?" he specified.

How was he cruel? In so many ways. So, so many ways.

"Name a couple of ways," she countered. "I'm sure we can make them fit." He gave a sad smile.

"Any children?"

She swallowed. "No biological children. Two step-children I brought to the marriage. He is very close to them and wants to remain involved."

Mr. King sighed and spun around in his chair.

"There are some recent precedents, in other states, for cruelty as a basis for divorce for a woman. Particularly Illinois. A state supreme court justice there by the name of John M. Scott has made great strides just over the last year.

He shrugged. "We're not in Illinois, but some of his opinions might be of value should you get to that point.

"As it is, it still takes a year to get a divorce, and that's after we file your initial complaint, which can take a while to draft. You'll have to come up with a statement. It will be easier to get a separation agreement first. That's what I think you should consider at this time."

He drummed his fingers on the desk.

"Of course, it will be easier if you just ask him for what you want. He may give it without a fight. What are you looking for?"

I want my husband back, she thought. Just like people in hell want ice water.

"I want the house," she said. "It's rather huge. The Swiss chalet at the end of Peachtree."

"That behemoth?" His eyebrows raised again.

"Yes," she bristled. "He doesn't want it, so it shouldn't be that hard to get. I don't want to live there either, and I could try to sell it, but not many people would be able to afford it or need a house that size. And the street does have a few businesses already. I'm thinking of turning it into a boutique hotel."

Her eyes lit up at this last bit. She had been playing with the concept in her mind for a couple months now. A boutique hotel with a nice restaurant, bar, maybe a shop or two. It already had a ballroom, a huge kitchen, and all those rooms. And there was a lot of money to be made that way with all the new people coming through town now! The mills were gone, and the store didn't interest her so much anymore. It ran itself under the new management. She needed to fill some hours of the day. Fill them with the children and work and studies, so she was too tired to think about him.

"You could ask him to put the deed in your name and have his lawyer draw up an agreement stating that he will not contest ownership in the event of a divorce. Or I could. He might be happier if his lawyer does it, however."

Scarlett nodded and smiled, feeling hope blossom in her chest. She and the children could move to a smaller house in town. The change would do them good.

Ennis King smiled back. She really was a very fetching woman, especially when she smiled, even though she looked a little drawn at the moment. Charming too, but not too sweet. A bit of a sharp edge to her tongue. He liked it.

"I'd want to address the visitation with the children at the same time, just getting down on paper exactly what it will be. He tends to come and go as he pleases, and if I have a new home, a new life … ." she drifted off.

Ennis pushed back from his desk.

"All right. Figure out what you want, and write him a proper letter, asking him for it. Then work on your statement. Don't get into all the issues with him right now. Just those two, the house and the visitation.

"I'll bill you as I work. No charge for today. I'll look over the letter if you want me to, but remember, no emotion, keep it impersonal. Just state what you want, and we'll see what he offers. You want to remain civil."

Scarlett rose from her chair. "Thank you Mr. King," she flashed her dimples. "I do appreciate it so. Will be in touch."

"You are quite welcome." he gave a little bow as his eyes followed her out the door.

Dear Rhett,

I hope you are well. I am exploring my options as far as moving forward with my life and I would like to ask you to formally give me the Peachtree Street house, as I have plans for it. It would help me if the deed was in my name alone, and if you could have drawn up legal paperwork stating that it would remain my property alone should we decide to divorce ever in the future - well, that would be ever so helpful.

I have an attorney who could draw up the agreement, if you would rather.

I would also like a more formal agreement regarding the children's visitation. You have been quite responsible and generous so far but I think it would benefit us both, as well as the children, if we knew exactly when you were coming and leaving.

I don't care about keeping up appearances. I don't even care about gossip anymore. I just want visitations with Wade and Ella on major holidays and their birthdays, guaranteed personal visits for at least a week at a time. You can have more weeks if you want it - a summer visit would be nice, I think. They do enjoy your company so. They need to know when you are coming, and that you are guaranteed to come, for their own stability and well-being. You can't just show up when you feel like it. Or, I would rather that you did not. It is hard to plan that way.

She hesitated before she wrote the last bit. It was not as impersonal as Mr. King had instructed, but she forged on.

You see, they ask me all the time when you are coming to see them, and I don't know, and it is distressing for them to have this uncertainty. You can forget me. Perhaps you already have. But not Wade and Ella. They have suffered too.

When you visit, please make sure to telegraph ahead of time and I will in turn make certain that I am far, far away for the entirety of your stay. It should be easier for us both that way.

If I decide to move our household in the future, I will make sure it will be no further for you to travel from Charleston (which is, I believe, your home base) than it is at the present time.

I hope you are healthy and continuing to take care of yourself. Your welfare is important to me, as you will always be a significant person in my life, and the lives of Wade and Ella.

Sincerely yours,

Scarlett

She sat back in her chair, taking a big breath. She had tried not to ask for any attention for herself, and couldn't afford to sound needy. He'd said he was afraid of her pursuing him, as well. She snorted as she stared out the window, her gaze becoming blank after a few seconds.

Hearts break every day, she reminded herself as she sealed the letter and tossed it in the outgoing mail basket. Every single day.

Tomorrow she planned to stop in and ask Mr. King if he knew of a good architect. One who could help her turn an ill-conceived Swiss chalet into a dreamboat of a new business venture.

Rhett next chapter. Thank you all for your reviews, they do keep me going :)

FYI: fraidy-cat (n.)

"coward, timid person," by 1871, American English slang, from 'fraid (by 1816), childish or dialectal (African, West Indies) pronunciation of afraid, + cat (n.), perhaps in reference to the animals' instinct to scatter when startled. (Scaredy-cat is from 1906).