The Ghost of Hope (Chapter 2)
Scarlett awoke to an unusual warm weight around her waist. For a panicked split second, she started to pull away, until she realized it was Rhett holding her close. They went to bed like strangers, keeping close to their respective sides of the massive bed, but in the night they'd found their way together.
Her sudden movement woke Rhett, and he groggily greeted her. "Good morning, Scarlett."
"Yes, it is, in spite of everything." She turned in his embrace, a smile gracing her face for the first time in months.
One finger lightly traced the deep circles under her eyes. "Did you sleep well? You look as if you haven't been lately."
Dropping her eyes and pulling back slightly from his touch, she struggled with a mixture of sadness and anger before deciding to simply address his concern. No more bitterness, she reminded herself. "No, I haven't been sleeping well at all. I can't remember the last time before last night when I did."
His embrace tightened, and she burrowed her head against his chest, muffling her words. "No, I can remember exactly."
Rhett left her a moment to continue before pressing her. "And when was that, darling?"
Now she was glad her face was hidden, as it flushed with shame, regret, and a flurry of emotions she wasn't capable of classifying. "The last night we spent together. I just wish I'd woken up to this the next morning." Try as she might, Scarlett couldn't prevent a hint of bitterness from mingling with her sad tone.
Before responding, Rhett cleared his throat and kissed the crown of her still-hidden head. "That, in spite of my earlier statements of no-fault, I will apologize for. For both my behavior that night and the next morning."
Meeting his eyes, Scarlett could see open honesty for perhaps the first time since she'd met him. Impulsively, she tilted her head up and kissed him ever-so-tenderly on the lips.
Both were surprised by the kiss. Not wanting to overstep her confused boundaries, Rhett let Scarlett take the lead, and was disappointed when she broke away and once again hid her face. He reached down and tilted her chin back up, forcing her to look at him.
"Scarlett, you don't have to embarrassed for kissing me. You are still my wife, after all."
"Yes, I know I am." Her mouth hung agape as she tried to gather her wits about her, to understand the emotions swirling around her mind, severely temping Rhett to kiss her. Seconds before he gave into the urge, she continued with a sigh. "And as your wife, I think it's my responsibility to get us out of this bed and fed, so we can deal with today."
The implications of 'today' hung ponderously, despite the lightness with which she'd spoken. She hoped that as husband and wife, they'd somehow find the peace of mind to make it through the impending funeral for their daughter.
Low clouds hung over the cemetery, matching the mood of those paying their respects to Bonnie. Clasped tightly to Rhett's arm, Scarlett stared down at the damp ground; a pit the color of dried blood opened up a step away from her, waiting to claim her child. Her mind swirled, and she was suddenly unaware of how she'd come to be standing here. The curious looks of Atlanta's Old Guard were unnoticed by her as she wrapped her arms around Rhett.
Looking down at Scarlett, Rhett was unable to distinguish the tears on Scarlett's face from the falling rain. More than her tears, he was startled by the public display of emotion she was engaged in. Yet he too needed comfort this day, and was immensely grateful for her slender arms tightly embracing him.
Scarlett paid little attention to the droning of the priest over the tiny mahogany coffin. She could look at little besides the gaping hole in front of her, interspersed with brief glances up at Rhett's face. She expected his face to be the same expressionless mask he always presented in public when he wasn't being devilishly charming, but today grief was clear in his eyes. When their gazes met during the service, she thought there was something else there, something which bordered on affection. That realization was too much for her to deal with at that moment, so she simply accepted that they would survive this together, and remained tucked closely into his side.
With difficulty, she suffered through the polite condolences of Mrs. Merriweather and her ilk before practically running to their carriage. Both Scarlett and Rhett sat in a heavy silence at the driver started home. No words were needed as they processed their grief, needing to find their own peace with it before they could discuss their own future.
For as often as she'd hated enforced bed rest, Scarlett could find little will to do anything besides collapse into its downy embrace. She'd made it up the stairs with her arms wrapped around Rhett, and he'd helped her into bed without saying a word. Now dinner had passed her by as she slept, and she wondered where he'd gone.
No light broke through the heavy drapes, and she wondered what time it was as she rose from the bed in search of her wrapper. With a glance at the clock on the mantle, she was startled to find it nearly midnight.
At this hour, she had no desire to deal with the servants, even Mammy, and pulled her wrapper tightly around her as she made her way down to the kitchen. The light slipping out beneath the dining room door gave her pause, however. For a long moment, she stood staring, remembering the last time she'd encountered Rhett late at night in that room. With a sigh, she stepped forward and quietly slid the door open.
In the shadows at the far end of the table sat Rhett, a full glass and nearly full decanter of whiskey in front of him. Unsure of what to say to him, she remained silent as she slowly walked the length of the room to his side, where she knelt on the floor.
Tortured but sober eyes gazed down at her, red with unshed tears. His knuckles were white as they gripped the glass, filled nearly to the brim.
"Rhett." Hesitantly, she began, uncertain of what to say to him, but knowing he needed comfort as much as she did. He had been so strong for her, and now she must be strong for him. Her eyes settled on the decanter as she tried to compose her thoughts.
"Did I, in my pitiable state, interrupt your quest for a nightcap, my pet?" The biting tone had returned, but the malice that had resounded behind such comments in the past was absent.
This was some sort of test, she knew. It was best now to just be honest with him, and perhaps he would return the favor, as he had been doing recently. "No, I haven't had anything to drink since.in a long time." That had sounded frail to her, but a glance had told her that it had somehow restored Rhett's civility. "I slept through dinner. I came down to find something to eat, and saw the light, and thought you might like some company. After all, you shouldn't drink alone, people will find out."
The joke had been forced, but it earned her a faint smile from Rhett. "I haven't been, actually." Meditating on the glass, he turned it gently between his hands, pale beams of light refracting through the cut glass and caramel liquid.
"I felt like I needed.something. I don't know what, it's not a feeling to which I'm accustomed." Bitterness rolled off him, tinged with sadness, and Scarlett placed a hand on his forearm as he continued. "You were asleep, and I didn't want to wake you, you needed it so badly. And liquor always served so well in the past to drown out all my problems."
He paused once more and gestured to the nearly tacky decanter, very close to full of the expensive whiskey he loved. "But I couldn't do it this time. I don't want to bog down my feelings with whiskey, I want to stop them, so I never have to feel them again."
Scarlett could never remember crying so easily over words before. She rose and wrapped her arms around him as he slumped in the chair. "Come to bed, then. You need the rest as much as I do." Whisper-soft fingers traced over his face, which was looking craggier than she remembered, rapidly aged by his life with Scarlett. "Please."
That was one word he'd never heard her sincerely utter before. The concern in her tone was clear, if weary. How she could be looking after anyone the way she herself was feeling amazed Rhett, and he moved to rise from the table.
"Go get yourself something to eat, Scarlett, and I'll meet you upstairs."
"No." Both paused at the soft vehemence in her voice. "No, I've gone without food before. Missing a meal when I'm well-fed won't hurt me. I'd like to walk back up with you."
A flash of pity crossed Rhett's face as he nodded, willing to let her have this battle, knowing too well that what she said was true.
Neither of them spoke as they put out the two dim lamps in the room and made their way out into the hallway. Illuminated by tinted moonlight streaming through gaudy stained glass, the psychologically battered pair climbed up the stairs with their arms wrapped comfortably around one another.
Scarlett awoke to an unusual warm weight around her waist. For a panicked split second, she started to pull away, until she realized it was Rhett holding her close. They went to bed like strangers, keeping close to their respective sides of the massive bed, but in the night they'd found their way together.
Her sudden movement woke Rhett, and he groggily greeted her. "Good morning, Scarlett."
"Yes, it is, in spite of everything." She turned in his embrace, a smile gracing her face for the first time in months.
One finger lightly traced the deep circles under her eyes. "Did you sleep well? You look as if you haven't been lately."
Dropping her eyes and pulling back slightly from his touch, she struggled with a mixture of sadness and anger before deciding to simply address his concern. No more bitterness, she reminded herself. "No, I haven't been sleeping well at all. I can't remember the last time before last night when I did."
His embrace tightened, and she burrowed her head against his chest, muffling her words. "No, I can remember exactly."
Rhett left her a moment to continue before pressing her. "And when was that, darling?"
Now she was glad her face was hidden, as it flushed with shame, regret, and a flurry of emotions she wasn't capable of classifying. "The last night we spent together. I just wish I'd woken up to this the next morning." Try as she might, Scarlett couldn't prevent a hint of bitterness from mingling with her sad tone.
Before responding, Rhett cleared his throat and kissed the crown of her still-hidden head. "That, in spite of my earlier statements of no-fault, I will apologize for. For both my behavior that night and the next morning."
Meeting his eyes, Scarlett could see open honesty for perhaps the first time since she'd met him. Impulsively, she tilted her head up and kissed him ever-so-tenderly on the lips.
Both were surprised by the kiss. Not wanting to overstep her confused boundaries, Rhett let Scarlett take the lead, and was disappointed when she broke away and once again hid her face. He reached down and tilted her chin back up, forcing her to look at him.
"Scarlett, you don't have to embarrassed for kissing me. You are still my wife, after all."
"Yes, I know I am." Her mouth hung agape as she tried to gather her wits about her, to understand the emotions swirling around her mind, severely temping Rhett to kiss her. Seconds before he gave into the urge, she continued with a sigh. "And as your wife, I think it's my responsibility to get us out of this bed and fed, so we can deal with today."
The implications of 'today' hung ponderously, despite the lightness with which she'd spoken. She hoped that as husband and wife, they'd somehow find the peace of mind to make it through the impending funeral for their daughter.
Low clouds hung over the cemetery, matching the mood of those paying their respects to Bonnie. Clasped tightly to Rhett's arm, Scarlett stared down at the damp ground; a pit the color of dried blood opened up a step away from her, waiting to claim her child. Her mind swirled, and she was suddenly unaware of how she'd come to be standing here. The curious looks of Atlanta's Old Guard were unnoticed by her as she wrapped her arms around Rhett.
Looking down at Scarlett, Rhett was unable to distinguish the tears on Scarlett's face from the falling rain. More than her tears, he was startled by the public display of emotion she was engaged in. Yet he too needed comfort this day, and was immensely grateful for her slender arms tightly embracing him.
Scarlett paid little attention to the droning of the priest over the tiny mahogany coffin. She could look at little besides the gaping hole in front of her, interspersed with brief glances up at Rhett's face. She expected his face to be the same expressionless mask he always presented in public when he wasn't being devilishly charming, but today grief was clear in his eyes. When their gazes met during the service, she thought there was something else there, something which bordered on affection. That realization was too much for her to deal with at that moment, so she simply accepted that they would survive this together, and remained tucked closely into his side.
With difficulty, she suffered through the polite condolences of Mrs. Merriweather and her ilk before practically running to their carriage. Both Scarlett and Rhett sat in a heavy silence at the driver started home. No words were needed as they processed their grief, needing to find their own peace with it before they could discuss their own future.
For as often as she'd hated enforced bed rest, Scarlett could find little will to do anything besides collapse into its downy embrace. She'd made it up the stairs with her arms wrapped around Rhett, and he'd helped her into bed without saying a word. Now dinner had passed her by as she slept, and she wondered where he'd gone.
No light broke through the heavy drapes, and she wondered what time it was as she rose from the bed in search of her wrapper. With a glance at the clock on the mantle, she was startled to find it nearly midnight.
At this hour, she had no desire to deal with the servants, even Mammy, and pulled her wrapper tightly around her as she made her way down to the kitchen. The light slipping out beneath the dining room door gave her pause, however. For a long moment, she stood staring, remembering the last time she'd encountered Rhett late at night in that room. With a sigh, she stepped forward and quietly slid the door open.
In the shadows at the far end of the table sat Rhett, a full glass and nearly full decanter of whiskey in front of him. Unsure of what to say to him, she remained silent as she slowly walked the length of the room to his side, where she knelt on the floor.
Tortured but sober eyes gazed down at her, red with unshed tears. His knuckles were white as they gripped the glass, filled nearly to the brim.
"Rhett." Hesitantly, she began, uncertain of what to say to him, but knowing he needed comfort as much as she did. He had been so strong for her, and now she must be strong for him. Her eyes settled on the decanter as she tried to compose her thoughts.
"Did I, in my pitiable state, interrupt your quest for a nightcap, my pet?" The biting tone had returned, but the malice that had resounded behind such comments in the past was absent.
This was some sort of test, she knew. It was best now to just be honest with him, and perhaps he would return the favor, as he had been doing recently. "No, I haven't had anything to drink since.in a long time." That had sounded frail to her, but a glance had told her that it had somehow restored Rhett's civility. "I slept through dinner. I came down to find something to eat, and saw the light, and thought you might like some company. After all, you shouldn't drink alone, people will find out."
The joke had been forced, but it earned her a faint smile from Rhett. "I haven't been, actually." Meditating on the glass, he turned it gently between his hands, pale beams of light refracting through the cut glass and caramel liquid.
"I felt like I needed.something. I don't know what, it's not a feeling to which I'm accustomed." Bitterness rolled off him, tinged with sadness, and Scarlett placed a hand on his forearm as he continued. "You were asleep, and I didn't want to wake you, you needed it so badly. And liquor always served so well in the past to drown out all my problems."
He paused once more and gestured to the nearly tacky decanter, very close to full of the expensive whiskey he loved. "But I couldn't do it this time. I don't want to bog down my feelings with whiskey, I want to stop them, so I never have to feel them again."
Scarlett could never remember crying so easily over words before. She rose and wrapped her arms around him as he slumped in the chair. "Come to bed, then. You need the rest as much as I do." Whisper-soft fingers traced over his face, which was looking craggier than she remembered, rapidly aged by his life with Scarlett. "Please."
That was one word he'd never heard her sincerely utter before. The concern in her tone was clear, if weary. How she could be looking after anyone the way she herself was feeling amazed Rhett, and he moved to rise from the table.
"Go get yourself something to eat, Scarlett, and I'll meet you upstairs."
"No." Both paused at the soft vehemence in her voice. "No, I've gone without food before. Missing a meal when I'm well-fed won't hurt me. I'd like to walk back up with you."
A flash of pity crossed Rhett's face as he nodded, willing to let her have this battle, knowing too well that what she said was true.
Neither of them spoke as they put out the two dim lamps in the room and made their way out into the hallway. Illuminated by tinted moonlight streaming through gaudy stained glass, the psychologically battered pair climbed up the stairs with their arms wrapped comfortably around one another.