Sunday, November 27, 2022 - Chapter 46 is done and sent to my beta! Woohoo! Now it may be a hot mess and take a day or two to straighten out but you will get it! I did split it in half because it's nearing 7000 words by itself. So I will post the other half, which may also be split, later this week; which means Leif, who was at the end, will have to wait for his scene(s) until the next chapter, or possibly, the last chapter. Either way, I intend for you to get the rest of this body of work this week! So, two or three chapters by the end of the week, if my beta has time to proofread and edit.

I am exhausted. Hope you all are ok:) Don't forget to enable your email notifications on your ff account! See below for more details:

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Ahem. The good news is Chapter 46 is shaping up and is going to happen. The bad news - not for Thanksgiving. I intend to polish it up in Savannah and send it on to the beta, and possibly start on Chapter 47. We're at a place in this story where every little detail counts. Sorry I'm such a turtle and not a hare. But I will get there. More good news - it's 12,000 words or so right now! May split it, so you will get two chapters in November! I will post them only a day or so apart if I do split.

May you all have a peaceful and restful holiday weekend, wherever you might be. We'll be stuffing ourselves here in the states. Two days from now I'll be writing on my favorite balcony in Savannah, the scent of tea olive trees floating in the air. Om.

November 13, 2022 - Bear with me, lovelies. I hit a snafu when a senior member of management questioned my methods at work (complete with a twenty-minute shouting match that alarmed my entire department to no end) and subsequently, I felt compelled to complete a week-long self-audit—never fear, I vindicated myself! Yahoo for womanhood! No 'truth in the middle' here; I was all right and he was all wrong. Ha.

It did remind me, in a real way, how a six-foot-four former football player with one of those big, booming voices can get what he wants just by throwing his weight and noise and male-ness around. Hmm. Anyway, I channeled my inner Scarlett and righteousness prevailed. This time. Whew.

But, I lost a week of productivity on this story, sad to say. Back on track now, and of all characters, Leif is giving me a fit! He never gives me a fit! Seems he hasn't had enough screen time of late. I know he hasn't, and am busy fixing that.

It was a full moon all last week and I felt it, deeply. Hope you all made it.

Sooo, another week or so, maybe a few days longer for the beta to do her magic. I am hot-footing it to get it finished before Thanksgiving and my yearly sabbatical to Savannah, because I DEF want to work on Chapter 47 there! It has some connection to the city, you see, and I would like to be immersed. Working hard when I can find a minute here and there, folks. Fingers crossed for those minutes ... .

Thank you for staying with me, truly. Peace and love, misscyn

October 29, 2022 - My gentle and generous readers, I have not forgotten you. Due to a cascading consequence of unfortunate events (you know some of them, and I won't bore you with the rest) I am way, way off my game. I dunno exactly what is wrong, maybe it's just a bunch of crapola catching up with me. I just know I'm not able to focus on writing the way I like. So I'm taking care of the other areas of my life and hoping it will fall into place soon.

The good news is Chapter 46 is more than halfway done, and it is a fun chapter. There's something in there for everyone, I think :). I did stray off course a bit but I think the result is worthy. It should be ready in a week or two. November is a big travel month for me but I do some of my best work in hotel rooms, so that's actually good. I'd like to get two chapters out in November.

So I feel terrible that I'm going to post the next chapter several weeks later than I intended, as you all were so kind to me last chapter! I'll try to get it into gear. I just think I need to do some literal and figurative house cleaning first. The holidays, sigh. So much work and I am hosting a big party this year. Such is life!

Take care and know I am thinking of you all, misscyn

September 25, 2022 update:

Wow! Just wow, all the folks who dropped me a line and/or a review this last week, I am simply blown away! And from all over the world, at that! Persia, Israel, France, Germany, Hungary, Czechia/Poland, Russia, Austria! All represented! And the reviews! You all have made me smile the entire week :)

Thank you for the condolences for my father, he was a helluva guy. And it appears (fingers crossed) that Covid has hit me lightly here at the end. Strange sickness it is. Young, hale men in my office are still floored by it, coughing and fatigue-ing, and my (late) middle-aged self is bouncing back. Well, maybe I didn't have so far to bounce. Ha.

I am taking a few days off to do Southern lady things like making pickled watermelon rinds and baking pawpaw bread—if you've ever had any experience with pawpaws, you know they don't wait. Also cleaning my closets and getting a little fall decorating done. I would like to do some reading on my front patio. Never fear, I will be back working on Chapter 46 this coming week. I love the autumn weather so very much. I used to like spring better, but I've decided to prefer fall as the earth is still warm from summer. And it's so glorious with the leaves.

Hope to see you soon! peace and love, misscyn

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I curse and bless Margaret Mitchell on a daily basis now for giving us such a bittersweet, frustrating, heartbreaking, brilliant story. It's like a frikkin Rubik's cube for fic writers. And we will never know how much of it was actually planned to mess with us as bad as it does.

Chapter 1

Rhett Butler was a liar.

A big, fat one.

The man certainly made a tidy argument that fateful day he left her, laying virtually all the blame for their disastrous union squarely at Scarlett's feet. She mulled over his words for weeks afterward; all the tiny and not-so-tiny injustices, and, much harder to swallow, all the jagged little truths.

It was more than he had ever spoken about their relationship, after all. In twelve years. So very much more.

Though there were two sentences, one statement, really, in that entire last soliloquy that stood out in her consciousness, that one that just wouldn't, couldn't be digested, processed, accepted. The reason he gave for never truly telling her he loved her.

"You're so brutal to those who love you, Scarlett. You take their love and hold it over their heads like a whip."

Scarlett had a problem with those two sentences. Oh yes, she did.

Who exactly was he talking about? Frank, for God's sake? Two weeks with Charles before he died? Her beaux back before the war, when she was 16, in another life, another universe?

She wasn't demonstrative. She didn't speak to others of loving them, not much, anyway. She showed love by providing. She kept people alive. All of them. Not through hugs and pretty words. Through work. Back-breaking, soul-damaging work. Through personal sacrifice, cheating, stealing, lying, and killing, that once she had to at Tara. She kept all of them alive and made sure they were fed and clothed with a roof over their head. There were other people who could be soft and speak the pretty, comforting words. She had to get things done.

Rhett wasn't one who needed to be cared for. Not by her. She had once thought he would take care of her, but his kind of caretaking ultimately hurt. He petted and indulged her just like he did their daughter, with very few limitations. Let her ruin herself. Let her build that horrible house and introduced her to all those terrible people and encouraged her to thumb her nose at society with him. Until he didn't.

She'd been the epitome of tacky new money, as trashy as that Jonas Wilkerson and Emily Slattery ever had. A bitter pill to swallow.

So now, after the fire, after his nasty little 'I'm leaving you Scarlett, and by the way, I don't give a damn what happens to you' postscript, he did come back every six weeks or so, sometimes less, sometimes more—although a fat lot of good it did. Somehow he figured out when she wouldn't be at home much, ensuring they passed in the night. He always insisted on walks where they would be seen, dining in restaurants, church attendance, outings together, and with Wade and Ella. He sent gifts, letters to the children when he felt like it. He left correspondence on the office desk to be mailed at specific times, in order to indicate to the recipients he was still there.

When he was anything but.

He said goodbye to the children while she was at the store.

And then he left like a thief in the night. Every. Damn. Time.

He kept himself aloof and if there were kindnesses and pity, she didn't see them. Only that stupid poker face that never, ever slipped. The mocking, the barbs, the taunts were all toned down, but still there. Along with the disparaging and condescending looks, of course.

Scarlett was tired, so very tired; but after months of living this way, something, something she didn't quite understand, started burning in her gut. Anger. Anger at the madness of it all. She was living this way for appearances, was she? Putting up with his disrespect and disinterest and disdain to keep gossip down? From who? A handful of semi-related people who had never, ever shown her that they cared for anything other than the show, the entertainment she provided?

For Dolly Merriweather and Mrs. Meade, for the love of all that is holy?

She didn't need the trappings of that marriage or the respect of those God-awful people who took what she gave and laughed at her for it. Not anymore. None of it made her happy or content. The only thing that had ever really made her feel fulfilled in any way was her hard work when it paid off.

And so she got down to it.