The Ghost of Hope Chapter 3
Nebulous grey swirled around her, the only spots of lightness in a universe of black. Faint shapes would appear and recede as she walked through the dark landscape, foreign yet somehow deeply familiar. She took a step to the left, and could feel herself narrowly skirting an unseen sinkhole, bits of earth crumbling away underfoot.
There was something here she must find, but she wasn't sure what or why. Only that it was terribly important that she do so. A large oak rose to her right, it's silhouetted form darker even than the black night surrounding her. The fog parted enough for her to see a boy and a girl, children really, flirting under its protective branches; quickly, the image was swallowed up again.
Turning away, a shadow brushed past her, close enough to feel the breeze and swirling mist, hoof-beats cantering past. Faintly, so softly she could barely hear even in this near silence, she thought a laugh trailed back to her, tinged with a familiar brogue. Had the figure been Pa? She had to stop him, he shouldn't be riding!
But then another, smaller, figure galloped past, hell-bent, it seemed, on catching up with the much larger horse. This figure was much tinier, almost a child on a pony. Bonnie! She was racing Pa! They shouldn't, oh they can't, they'll both end up hurt! He shouldn't be jumping at all, and her pony will never make it over the fences Pa's horse can!
She had to stop them. Turning around in the thickening fog, she lost track of the direction the riders had headed, but could still hear the faint sound of hooves. Someone had to help her. She needed to find someone. Rhett, Rhett always helped her. Where was he? He had to be here somewhere. Oh, Rhett, please, find me, help me. I've got to stop Bonnie.
Trying to cry out, she found her voice muffled by the fog. It felt as if she were shouting to herself; even Bonnie and Gerald must be unable to hear her intermittent pleas to stop, to return and visit with her. And why wasn't Rhett coming? She thought she'd been calling his name for an eternity, breaking down in tears at the terrible sense of aloneness and helplessness that threatened to overwhelm her.
Suddenly, Rhett's voice seemed very close, very warm, very safe. He was calling to her, but she couldn't see him through the fog, and couldn't make out what he was saying to her. Pitifully, she sobbed out his name.
With a jolt, she was sitting, wrapped securely in Rhett's arms. She was still in the dark, but this darkness was tempered by moonbearms spilling through breaks in the draperies. It took a moment for her to regain enough control to wrap her own arms around Rhett and pull him closer to her, pressing her teary face to his chest.
"It's all right, Scarlett, I'm here, I'm here." His voice was soothing, gentle, and it broke through her blind panic.
She pulled back slightly from him, needing space to catch her breath, but not wanting to move far from his arms. Her eyes roamed the room, all dark shadows and silver accents. Even Rhett's face was shadowed, but enough pale light caught his eyes to show their concern.
"I'm.you.I couldn't.," she gasped, trying to reassure both of them and failing miserably. Only after several deep breaths was she able to choke a coherent sentence out between sobs. "I couldn't find you to stop them."
"Stop who, darling?" His velvet tone soothed her nerves, and the tears slowed. Even subconsciously, it seemed that her body was calmed by his presence. One of his hands came up to brush tears from her face as the other pulled her closer to him again as he moved to rest against the headboard.
"I was in the fog, like the nightmare I used to have." Rhett nodded encouragingly, his lips brushing the top of her head as he did so. "But this was different."
She paused for a moment, trying to sort out both how precisely this had differed, and compose herself further. "I could almost see people in the fog. I swear Pa rode past me. And then, oh, and then, just as I was worrying about him, there was someone else, someone smaller. Bonnie." Her voice was very small, even in her own ears.
"Shh, it was just a nightmare."
"No, but that's not all, Rhett." Scarlett gripped his hand tightly, needing him to understand, hoping she could telegraph everything to him without having to process it again herself. "I had to stop them, I just had to. I knew what would happen, both of them galloping off like mad. They were so alike in that. I was shouting for them to stop, to come back, and they didn't. Then I started yelling for you, and you weren't coming, either. You'd have been able to stop them, but you wouldn't come help me."
"Oh, Scarlett." His voice broke, undone by grief and empathy. "I'd forgotten you lost your father the same way."
She nodded without bothering to curb the flow of tears once again streaming down her face.
"I believe you once talked to me about your fear of Hell. Can I take that to mean you also believe just as much in Heaven?"
Startled and confused, she twisted in his arms, looking up at him in search of any trace of his old maliciousness. Not finding any, she tried to simply answer with honesty. "I-I suppose I do, Rhett."
"Then you can be assured that your father is taking good care of our daughter."
"Oh." She crushed him to her, raining teary kisses along his shoulder. "You should be reassured by that, too."
Rhett's chest heaved with an uncharacteristic hitch, and Scarlett reached up to his face to find tears under her fingers. Was he really crying? She had no idea how to comfort him the way he could do for her.
"Rhett, Rhett, it's all right-" Rhett's hand silenced her as he shook his head.
"That's all you needed to say, Scarlett. I don't think I've gotten such perfect words of comfort since this happened. Why does it not surprise me that they're my words thrown back at me by you?" Gentle humor tinged his voice.
For the briefest moment, she was thrown out of her sorrow into wondering what then his previous taunts must have meant to him. That thought was quickly cast aside by more pressing concerns.
Tears gone, she dryly answered him. "Why, it doesn't surprise me in the least. You always have had a way of knowing just what to say." If only it had always been put to good, she thought.
Rhett's only answer was a deep kiss as he pulled her back down into bed with him. This lacked the tenderness of his recent attentions, more closely recalling the kisses he'd given her what seemed lifetimes ago, which had left her nearly swooning.
Seemingly satisfied with just one kiss, he pulled her into his arms as a child would a teddy bear. As they both drifted back into a more peaceful sleep, Scarlett had the brief revelation that such an embrace was as much to reassure himself as her. He hadn't addressed her concern over his role in her dream, but this insight almost seemed an answer to that question.
Nebulous grey swirled around her, the only spots of lightness in a universe of black. Faint shapes would appear and recede as she walked through the dark landscape, foreign yet somehow deeply familiar. She took a step to the left, and could feel herself narrowly skirting an unseen sinkhole, bits of earth crumbling away underfoot.
There was something here she must find, but she wasn't sure what or why. Only that it was terribly important that she do so. A large oak rose to her right, it's silhouetted form darker even than the black night surrounding her. The fog parted enough for her to see a boy and a girl, children really, flirting under its protective branches; quickly, the image was swallowed up again.
Turning away, a shadow brushed past her, close enough to feel the breeze and swirling mist, hoof-beats cantering past. Faintly, so softly she could barely hear even in this near silence, she thought a laugh trailed back to her, tinged with a familiar brogue. Had the figure been Pa? She had to stop him, he shouldn't be riding!
But then another, smaller, figure galloped past, hell-bent, it seemed, on catching up with the much larger horse. This figure was much tinier, almost a child on a pony. Bonnie! She was racing Pa! They shouldn't, oh they can't, they'll both end up hurt! He shouldn't be jumping at all, and her pony will never make it over the fences Pa's horse can!
She had to stop them. Turning around in the thickening fog, she lost track of the direction the riders had headed, but could still hear the faint sound of hooves. Someone had to help her. She needed to find someone. Rhett, Rhett always helped her. Where was he? He had to be here somewhere. Oh, Rhett, please, find me, help me. I've got to stop Bonnie.
Trying to cry out, she found her voice muffled by the fog. It felt as if she were shouting to herself; even Bonnie and Gerald must be unable to hear her intermittent pleas to stop, to return and visit with her. And why wasn't Rhett coming? She thought she'd been calling his name for an eternity, breaking down in tears at the terrible sense of aloneness and helplessness that threatened to overwhelm her.
Suddenly, Rhett's voice seemed very close, very warm, very safe. He was calling to her, but she couldn't see him through the fog, and couldn't make out what he was saying to her. Pitifully, she sobbed out his name.
With a jolt, she was sitting, wrapped securely in Rhett's arms. She was still in the dark, but this darkness was tempered by moonbearms spilling through breaks in the draperies. It took a moment for her to regain enough control to wrap her own arms around Rhett and pull him closer to her, pressing her teary face to his chest.
"It's all right, Scarlett, I'm here, I'm here." His voice was soothing, gentle, and it broke through her blind panic.
She pulled back slightly from him, needing space to catch her breath, but not wanting to move far from his arms. Her eyes roamed the room, all dark shadows and silver accents. Even Rhett's face was shadowed, but enough pale light caught his eyes to show their concern.
"I'm.you.I couldn't.," she gasped, trying to reassure both of them and failing miserably. Only after several deep breaths was she able to choke a coherent sentence out between sobs. "I couldn't find you to stop them."
"Stop who, darling?" His velvet tone soothed her nerves, and the tears slowed. Even subconsciously, it seemed that her body was calmed by his presence. One of his hands came up to brush tears from her face as the other pulled her closer to him again as he moved to rest against the headboard.
"I was in the fog, like the nightmare I used to have." Rhett nodded encouragingly, his lips brushing the top of her head as he did so. "But this was different."
She paused for a moment, trying to sort out both how precisely this had differed, and compose herself further. "I could almost see people in the fog. I swear Pa rode past me. And then, oh, and then, just as I was worrying about him, there was someone else, someone smaller. Bonnie." Her voice was very small, even in her own ears.
"Shh, it was just a nightmare."
"No, but that's not all, Rhett." Scarlett gripped his hand tightly, needing him to understand, hoping she could telegraph everything to him without having to process it again herself. "I had to stop them, I just had to. I knew what would happen, both of them galloping off like mad. They were so alike in that. I was shouting for them to stop, to come back, and they didn't. Then I started yelling for you, and you weren't coming, either. You'd have been able to stop them, but you wouldn't come help me."
"Oh, Scarlett." His voice broke, undone by grief and empathy. "I'd forgotten you lost your father the same way."
She nodded without bothering to curb the flow of tears once again streaming down her face.
"I believe you once talked to me about your fear of Hell. Can I take that to mean you also believe just as much in Heaven?"
Startled and confused, she twisted in his arms, looking up at him in search of any trace of his old maliciousness. Not finding any, she tried to simply answer with honesty. "I-I suppose I do, Rhett."
"Then you can be assured that your father is taking good care of our daughter."
"Oh." She crushed him to her, raining teary kisses along his shoulder. "You should be reassured by that, too."
Rhett's chest heaved with an uncharacteristic hitch, and Scarlett reached up to his face to find tears under her fingers. Was he really crying? She had no idea how to comfort him the way he could do for her.
"Rhett, Rhett, it's all right-" Rhett's hand silenced her as he shook his head.
"That's all you needed to say, Scarlett. I don't think I've gotten such perfect words of comfort since this happened. Why does it not surprise me that they're my words thrown back at me by you?" Gentle humor tinged his voice.
For the briefest moment, she was thrown out of her sorrow into wondering what then his previous taunts must have meant to him. That thought was quickly cast aside by more pressing concerns.
Tears gone, she dryly answered him. "Why, it doesn't surprise me in the least. You always have had a way of knowing just what to say." If only it had always been put to good, she thought.
Rhett's only answer was a deep kiss as he pulled her back down into bed with him. This lacked the tenderness of his recent attentions, more closely recalling the kisses he'd given her what seemed lifetimes ago, which had left her nearly swooning.
Seemingly satisfied with just one kiss, he pulled her into his arms as a child would a teddy bear. As they both drifted back into a more peaceful sleep, Scarlett had the brief revelation that such an embrace was as much to reassure himself as her. He hadn't addressed her concern over his role in her dream, but this insight almost seemed an answer to that question.