Scarlett stepped out of the carriage onto the red clay. As her feet sank into the moist earth of Tara, her heart eased. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes briefly before stepping forward. This had always been her safe haven, since she was a girl. It represented so many things that had been hers when she was young.
So many things she had lost…
Her heart constricted again, as she thought of what she had lost. She looked up the long drive at the long, slow carriage that had followed her family to Tara. She had lost more in this past week than she ever had in her life. And it was the strangest, most agonizing feeling, to have lost it.
She missed Wade. She had never known that she could miss someone like she missed her son. She had never realized the bond that a mother and son truly shared until it was taken away from her. She had been too preoccupied with other things. Money, survival…herself. She had always loved her children, but she had never taken the time to show them that she did. She had never let them love her…
And now—now, she had lost her son, and she imagined that her feeling towards the loss was very much akin to the emotions that roll through a newly born baby; a baby comes into the world feeling hungry and cold, but can't understand these feelings or what can be done to alter them. They are unsatisfied, but don't know why they are unsatisfied. And so they cry. And while she loved her son dearly and while she missed him more than any words could describe, she had this anomalous feeling of not knowing what she missed.
And that was what was so agonizing…
It was agonizing because what she had lost—even more than the presence of her son from her life forever—was the opportunity to truly know him. To have a reason to miss him. It would have made it easier to lose him. At least, in her present state of mind, she thought so. She would have had something to hold on to. She would have had memories. She would have had…something. But she had nothing. Nothing except for the memory of his face, forever imprinted into her mind. His relation to her. A few dear recollections, which she hadn't even realized she remembered until she had lost him.
It was a slow and terrible torture. Forever, she would miss nothing.
And it was her fault.
She turned around and saw that Rhett had already met Will and Suellen on the grand patio. Suellen must have felt Scarlett's eyes on her and she turned to look at her sister. Scarlett had not been looking forward to this meeting. She imagined that her sister's eyes would be filled with accusation. Or perhaps, they would be empty and emotionless, proving that Scarlett's very own sister cared nothing for her loss. Scarlett wouldn't have been surprised. She hadn't even bothered to come to her own nephew's funeral! These thoughts had awakened that familiar contempt for Suellen and she had readied herself for battle on the trip from Atlanta to Jonesboro.
Scarlett imagined that was why she was so flabbergasted when Suellen's eyes caught hers and tears spilled over the brims. Scarlett hesitantly walked towards the patio, and Suellen met her at the edge.
Sue opened her mouth as if to speak and reached out as if to embrace her, but stopped short, unsure of what she should do. She and Scarlett had never been on good terms, even as children. And she couldn't remember a time that either of them had ever willingly touched the other, with the exception of when they were trying to maim one another. Sue reached out and touched Scarlett's arm with the tips of her fingers. "I'm so sorry…"
Scarlett stood there for a moment, at a loss of what to do, much like her sister moments before. She reached over and touched the tips of her fingers to Suellen's hand. "I am too."
Neither sister moved. They merely looked at each other. They would never be close. But they would always be sisters. And Scarlett felt that both of their apologies were considered for more than what they were assumed. Rather, the apologies were for all the wrongdoings done to each other. The offenses committed between them, which neither of them had ever sought or wanted forgiveness for. Scarlett knew that the implied apology was all she would ever give Suellen, and that it was the most she would get from her sister as well. Because they both were too alike and too stubborn to admit fault, even if they knew that there was some fault to admit.
After a moment, Scarlett walked past Suellen, farther onto the porch. Will met her at the door of Tara and hugged her. Rhett was standing with him, and Scarlett turned to him, much as she had these past few days, and grabbed his hand without a thought. He gladly received it.
"Dinner is 'bout to be served, right Sue?" Will stated, looking at his wife. "Will just get ya'll in here and settled an' then we'll sit down and eat?"
Sue walked over to her husband, nodding her head. "Yes, you both go on inside. I think they already took your things up. Mammy has Bonnie, and Ella is with her cousins. Once you have gotten washed up and ready for dinner, I am sure that it will be just about time."
Scarlett nodded. She and Rhett both walked through the foyer and made their way up the grand staircase. She instinctively walked to her old bedroom, which was indeed where their things were. She hadn't considered this when she came to Tara, that she and Rhett would assume a shared room. She feared that he would say something about it, to her or to the servants. As they walked into the room, hand in hand, and began to ready themselves for supper and settle down after the long trip, she went about her tasks tensely. She waited for him to mention his desire to be placed somewhere else. He was, after all, the one who had moved himself out in the first place. But he said nothing. And she knew that she would say nothing.
So…nothing was said. And things just were…just as they had been since—
She walked to the window, and watched as the servants carried the small casket into the house. She looked beyond the porch, toward the chapel…and the tiny graveyard where her mother, father and three brothers were buried. God…how was she going to put her boy in the ground…in a cold, damp grave? How could he be there? How could any of them—Pa, Mother—how could they be there? How could it be that they were dead when they were still so alive in her heart?
Tears started to pour down her face again. A sob broke from her lips. Rhett heard it and dropped what he was doing and went to her. He wrapped her in his arms, and it felt more right than anything else ever had. But even Scarlett knew that it wasn't enough. Rhett couldn't bring back her parents. He couldn't bring back her boy. And…and…he couldn't change the past. But he felt good…so good. And, if it were possible, she imagined that he would do all he was capable of doing to change the past. To bring her parents back. To bring Wade back. And she imagined that this made a difference too. To know that he would always do anything for her…even if it could never be enough.
Suddenly, her husband wasn't such a mystery anymore. As he held her in his arms, she had the tiniest of epiphanies. She knew that it had always been this way. That Rhett had always been willing to do what needed to be done for her. And when he couldn't accomplish something, it was because he didn't have any power to accomplish it—like when he was in jail and she needed tax money—or he believed that she was brave enough and strong enough to accomplish it herself—like when he left her to join the army.
She pulled back from him slightly, feeling like another epiphany, much greater than this one was coming. But it didn't, and it frustrated her because she felt that it was so important. She felt that all of these things pointed to something. She just couldn't think…not now…
"Scarlett," Rhett said softly, as he looked out the window in the direction that she had been looking, "What do you want, darling?" She looked up at Rhett. His eyes were slightly frantic as they searched her face, desperate for any sign of what she was thinking. She imagined that he was so much at a loss because he had never had a problem reading her mind.
"Honey, tell me what you want." He stroked her cheek, and she felt the urgency in his touch. She turned slightly and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror sitting on top of the vanity. No wonder he seemed so worried. Her face was drawn and pale. She almost looked as if she had died herself. Had she been like this all along? Why was she just now noticing?
"I…" she watched her dry lips open in the mirror and quickly turned back towards her husband, shaking her head mindlessly. "I don't know..." She buried her head in his chest again, and again she felt safe.
And it wasn't enough.
But it was everything.
Scarlett and Rhett went down to dinner. It was a somber and almost tense affair. Silence reigned throughout most of the meal, with the occasional comment from Will and Rhett. It was not entirely unpleasant. Respect and sympathy coated the tones and postures of all of those at the table, only fear of a wrongly worded statement charging the atmosphere with unease. Fear of reminding each other of what had been lost, of who was lying in the parlor behind tightly closed doors…
That night, they all went into Ellen's old office, and spent some time communing. Suellen knitted, while Will and Rhett casually talked about Tara and Will's expectations for next year's crop. Scarlett would have normally given her two-cents worth on the subject, but was not inclined to speak. Rhett had much advice to give Will. Scarlett looked up from the book that she wasn't reading as they conversed, and she listened on with some surprise at her husband's knowledge of planting. Later, she wondered why it had surprised her so. Rhett had, after all, been raised amongst planters. And she found herself genuinely wishing that he had been with her at Tara just after the war.
She needed him with her all the time now. She had always been fond of his company, but now it was as if she needed his company. She needed to touch him, constantly. If he was close enough to reach, she would always grab his hand, place her hand on his shoulder, brush her fingertips against the hem of his clothing…
He was on the other side of the room now…She wondered if it would seem strange if she were to go to him now to hold his hand. Maybe she could pretend she was going to get another book and she would brush by him when she walked over to the bookshelf—
Scarlett looked back down at the nameless book, wanting to put the thoughts from her head. This newfound dependency she had procured was unsettling and she was uncomfortable with it. She continued to stare at the unseen words on the page. Part of her wanted so badly to look up at him again. Watch him…
No…she said stubbornly. She gripped the edges of the book, struggling not to look at him. She could take perfectly good care of herself. She didn't need to depend on Rhett. She didn't need him.
For the second time that day, Scarlett had the tiniest of epiphanies. Suppose she didn't need Rhett. Suppose she only assumed that she was dependent upon him, in a way in which she felt that she couldn't do anything but give in to the raw emotions she was having towards him. Perhaps claiming that she needed him was a sort of crutch, to which she could merely rationalize within herself that needing him was something that she couldn't help, so that she wouldn't have to accept the things she was feeling as her own. She could blame her craving for him on the need, much like someone would blame their need for food on their hunger or their need for water because they were thirsty. Rather, what if it was a cover up of what was really happening within her. What if it wasn't so much that she needed Rhett as that she simply…wanted him?
She gripped the book harder, and looked up at him. He was leaning back in a chair, one of his long legs tossed over the other, his arms resting on the arms of the chair. He was smoking a cigar, speaking softly to Will in between puffs.
Then suddenly, he stood with that slow grace with which she had always attributed him, putting the cigar out as he did. "Thank you so much for your kind hospitality, Will. Suellen," he said warmly. "But I think we will turn in now." Rhett looked at Scarlett, and she quickly placed the book on the table next to her chair. There was still the barest of lights outside. Ella and her cousins had just come inside. Rhett asked the nurse to see to Ella and Bonnie getting to bed, to which the nurse nodded, "Yes'sa". Rhett kissed his daughters' on their cheeks before walking over to Scarlett and catching her hand in his own, causing Scarlett's heart to jump violently. They left the room and quickly walked up the stairs.
No one went near the parlor's tightly closed doors.
That night, when they walked into the room that had once been hers, a comfortable silence resided between them as they readied themselves for sleep. Rhett had walked up behind her as she brushed her hair and had gently taken the brush from her hand and started brushing, much as he had during their honeymoon. After he was finished, he picked her up and carried her to the bed and tucked her in. He was still fully dressed and she suddenly became afraid, wondering if he was going to stay or leave. But after she was safely tucked in, he started to undress.
She observed him discreetly, from underneath the covers. She felt shame in watching him, but she didn't look away. He removed his jacket, his vest, his cravat. Then he sat down in a chair and removed his shoes. He folded those things and placed them neatly in his trunk before he continued. He had turned away from her now, trying to unbutton his shirt and retrieve his nightclothes at the same time. When he turned back around, his shirt was half unbuttoned. He tossed the nightclothes onto the chair, and proceeded to unbutton his shirt when his eyes caught hers. She instinctively buried her face deeper into the comforter, expecting some kind of barbed remark from him for her appraisal. But he didn't say anything. He didn't smile. He continued to look at her as he slowly unbuttoned the shirt. His eyes were soft, glazing over as he looked at her. She continued to stare at him for a moment, and watched as he removed his shirt from his body. She caught a glance of his strong chest and stomach before she finally turned away and closed her eyes tightly.
A moment later, the bed shifted and she felt a rush of air touch her legs as the bedcovers were lifted. Rhett's warmth quickly filled up the space next to her. She was barely given the opportunity to wonder what would happen next before Rhett pressed his body securely to hers. His arms came around her waist and pulled her closer and he buried his face in her neck. Her breath caught and she turned towards him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. Both squeezed against the other, refusing to spare the tiniest amount of space. She buried her face in his chest before slowly brushing her face towards the crook of his neck. She felt his breath hitch, and she nuzzled deeper into his neck, before kissing it softly.
He kissed her forehead softly, then her cheek. Then her nose, her eyes, her chin, her mouth. It was all so untamed, yet so gentle and restrained. Scarlett could tell by his hands and the way he held her and touched her that there would be no lovemaking tonight, and she was just as eager to convey the same message back to him. It was something more than that, and yet the same. They both just wanted to be near to each other. To comfort each other. In a way that no one else could comfort either of them.
The way he kissed her was so gentle, so new…it was intoxicating and she found herself forgetting everything but the sweet, loving sensations of being in his arms. Of touching him softly. Scarlett eventually fell asleep in her husband's arms, as he stroked her back and whispered unheard words into her hair.
It was a small group of people. Just the residents of Tara. They all gathered in the foyer, before heading out to the chapel and the cemetery. Scarlett was securely wrapped in Rhett's arms, Bonnie was with the nurse, Ella tucked safely into Mammy's skirts. When they carried the casket out of the parlor, Scarlett gripped Rhett's coat in her fingers tightly. He leaned down and softly kissed her forehead and his grip on her shoulder tightened as well.
She would never remember the walk down to the chapel.
She didn't look at Mother and Pa's graves.
There was no preacher, no priest. They all prayed over the tiny casket, Will read some familiar scripture, and then it was over. And they were lowering her son into the ground…
More than anything in the world, Scarlett wanted to turn away. But some part of her felt that if she turned away and refused to watch, she was abandoning him. And, oh God, how could she abandon her little son to this darkness! All of her childhood teachings had told her that Wade was now in Heaven. He was safe. But how could he be safe and happy in a box under the ground for eternity. She stepped away from Rhett slightly, tears pouring from her eyes, as she realized she couldn't leave him. There had been too many times when he was alive that she had walked away from him or from her other children because she didn't want to deal with something or other. She wouldn't leave him today.
She slowly walked towards the grave as the men started to fill it with the red clay of Tara. She knelt next to the hole that her son now occupied and sat with him as they placed the clay over the casket.
Rhett came up next to her and started to tell her that she shouldn't stay. It would hurt her too much. She shook her head brokenly and continued to stare down the hole towards the casket as it slowly became more obscure through the clay.
Rhett's eyes filled with that familiar omniscience, and he sat with him too. Scarlett's sobbed. Truly sobbed, as she had never sobbed before in her life over something that wasn't about her.
Then suddenly, it was over.
The clay was stacked up high above the level of the ground, smoothed and molded into a small hill atop the straight plain of earth. Scarlett wasn't crying any more. Rhett was still there. And it was over.
She felt something shift in her hand, and looked down to see Rhett's ever faithful hand entwined with her own. She looked up at his face, and he was already watching her and looked as if he had been for a long time.
She looked away, some shame filling her chest as she thought of how everyone had just seen her react. Then perhaps…perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps she felt exposed and guilty. Ashamed.
Because the knowledge of her own guilt in the death of her son was eating her up.
"Scarlett…" Rhett whispered. She looked at him, tears running down her cheeks again. "It's not your fault, honey. Stop thinking that it is." His voice was so soft and so deep at the same time it was almost hard to decipher what he had said.
She didn't know why she was surprised at his declaration. Then, perhaps that was why his face had shown such unabashed concern for her since Wade's death. Perhaps it wasn't so much her loss, as it was the fact that he was fearful that her guilt would swallow her up. He knew that she was strong enough to get through Wade's death, but he was fearful of what the guilt would do to her. Fearful that it was one of the greatest factors in what could possibly be the greatest wounding of her spirit.
To her shame, her voice broke when she spoke. "It is. I-I wouldn't let him keep the horse, Rhett. All because I was too much of a coward to let him have it. He wanted it, I didn't. I…if I had just let go of my fears because of things that happened years ago…I…I bought it for him! I—" She stopped short, realizing that her words were incomprehensible. And when Rhett spoke, he didn't speak to her like he had when Frank died, with a soft mockery in his voice. His voice was low and rough as he spoke, tenderness spilling from his lips.
"Scarlett, all of your assumptions of guilt are unfounded. Scarlett, you were right. When you bought Wade and Ella the horse, you were right about both of them wanting it. I was wrong. Remember? How I said that they wouldn't want it? But you knew they would. Wade did. And your fears? Darling, you were right. Horses can be dangerous creatures. You were merely being what a good mother is to her child. You were protecting him…You are a good mother. The best mother, honey…" He caressed her tiny hand, and she leaned into him, taking in his words. Sometimes the only way to see things clearly was to hear Rhett say them for her. He was her translator of life. He always took the pieces and made them a whole for her.
"Come now, darling, let's go inside." Scarlett grasped him tighter.
"Please…not yet." She still felt that if she left her son, he would be alone.
Rhett abided by her wishes, but continued to persuade her. "Darling…he isn't going to be alone. Look at what he is surrounded by…he is surrounded by pieces of you." Scarlett glanced around the tiny grave, seeing the grave of her mother and father. Then she looked at the grave itself. Tara.
"He is surrounded by Tara." She said softly. It was so simple… "I see now." She said. "Tara…he will always be here now." She sat for just a moment longer before she attempted to stand. Rhett aided her in rising and they both walked back to the house.
That night they cuddled to each other much as the night before. But Rhett continually whispered words of comfort to her, and she to him. At one point he even said…he loved her. That had stopped her and she had looked up at his face in an effort to gauge his words. He merely leaned into her and kissed her again, leaving her to wonder whether he had said the words or not.
Leaving her to wonder how she should feel about it if he did…