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Chapter 5

Scarlett relaxed on the soft bench in front of the small stove, and drew the blanket tighter around her. She shivered in delight, curling her toes as she stretched. It was wonderful to be so warm. It had been so cold up on the deck. The blanket was soft, too, and she rubbed her cheek against it contentedly.

Ashley was in the kitchen preparing hot toddies. Except he wasn't really Ashley, he was taller, and had dark hair and dark eyes. He was a stranger, but he was such a comfortable stranger. It felt like she'd known him all her life. So he had to be Ashley, right? And this was their honeymoon.

She decided not to think about it. She felt deliciously cozy, and didn't want to fret over who exactly was preparing a toddy or cider as long as somebody was.

She heard footsteps, and smiled. Ashley-who-was-not-Ashley entered the room, and in a bored, nasal voice, shouted, but from very far away, "Jacksonville! Thirty minutes for breakfast!"

Scarlett closed her eyes and burrowed into the blanket. Her hand was starting to hurt from its grasp on the fabric. Ashley who was not Ashley disappeared. Why had the boat stopped?

She opened her eyes reluctantly. Her hand wasn't clutching a blanket, it was a… lapel. The stove from her dream had been that man. She scrambled to sit up, away from him, her mind working around how to regain her rightful superiority. Here Ellen had warned her against men who took liberties, and she, Scarlett, had slept on a stranger—freely giving liberties (if that was such a thing?) She tried to laugh it off. His eyes were sparkling again.

Ducking her head out the window, she commented, "We're in Jacksonville, aren't we?"

He nodded. He was smiling. Damn her liberties! A long scarf of fine wool was around her neck. She unwound it and handed it back to him. His coat was laid over her, too. "That was foolish of me." Was there no end to his terrible consideration? She pushed at it, at the same time he plucked it neatly from her. "Wh- why didn't you shove me away?"

"Oh, I hated to wake you. You look kind of pretty asleep."

Kind of pretty! Of all the nasty things to—

She looked away from his smile—too smug by half, she was sure. Even if he did have nice teeth. His mustache was impertinent. She'd never found mustaches very attractive before. Not that she did now, either, of course.

She realized the bus was empty, save the two of them and her friend, the driver. "Why, everybody's gone!" The man hmmed in response. Scarlett took out her mirror and quickly smoothed her hair.

"How about some breakfast?"

Under no circumstances could she let him buy her breakfast, she was already in his debt, and she hated being indebted to people. And what must he think of her, sleeping like that! He would think he could take all manner of liberties if he paid for her meal. Besides, the Windsor Hotel was not far, and its chef made the most to die for, silky, scrumptious crêpes this side of Paris. Her mouth was already watering thinking about them.

"Oh, n- no. No, thank you." she replied, straightening her hat. "I'm going to the Windsor Hotel."

"The Windsor?" he asked incredulously. "You'll never make it back in time. We leave in half an hour."

She smiled, and hoped she didn't look too pitying. People waited for her. She stood and stretched her legs. "Oh no, they'll wait for me."

She walked down the aisle toward the driver. How nice of him to be standing there so she could tell him! "Driver, I'm going to be a few minutes late. Be sure to wait for me." She dimpled at him.

His voice stopped her as she started down the stairs. "Oh yeah?"

She turned around in confusion. "Yes!" she replied indignantly. Just for good measure, she smiled at him again and her eyelids fluttered ever so briefly.

Then she let her nearly growling stomach lead her to the Windsor.

~~~nb~~~

Rhett chose a seat at the counter by a window where he could keep an eye on the bus. He ordered bacon and eggs, a donut, and coffee. The service was fast, and in little time, he tucked into the meal. He wondered if the flower had even made it to the Windsor yet. A fool's errand! She couldn't possibly think she would be only a few minutes late. And she couldn't possibly think that, no matter how few minutes late she was, a bus would wait for her. Of course, she was a spoiled society belle. Nothing she could do should surprise him. Still, no matter how many times you met the upper crust, their sense of entitlement could almost always astonish you. (At times, our hero conveniently forgets his own upper crust society background. This is one of those times.)

The bacon was hot and he sniffed it appreciatively. Crispy, too, he noted as he munched on a strip. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. He looked out toward the bus again and saw a young boy hawking newspapers. He should've picked one up before he sat down, but he'd made a beeline to get something to eat. Not that he wanted to give his money back to his erstwhile employer, but he liked to know what was going on in the world. He looked around to see if anyone had left his paper behind.

A man two stools down was just about finishing his perusal, from the looks of it. He debated for a minute whether he should ask for the paper or hope the man left it. He looked like a friendly enough sort.

"Do you mind if I take a look at that when you're finished?"

The man turned and smiled. Bingo. Rhett liked being right about people.

"Not at all, my good man. Here you are," he replied, and handed over the paper. "That's something about the girl, eh? I hope they find her."

Rhett feigned concern and said his thanks as the old gentleman wished him a good day and left. Then he turned the paper over to the front.

The cover story made his eyes gleam. He set the paper down on the counter and picked up his donut. He dunked it in his coffee, and took a bite. As he chewed thoughtfully, he began to formulate a plan.

~~~nb~~~

Scarlett's crêpes were everything she had dreamed they would be. The last time she'd been here was with Pa, and she felt a pang of homesickness as she thought of him. She missed him, but she quickly reminded herself that she was angry at him for his terrible unfairness to Ashley. No, she did not miss him. (Him being Pa—not Ashley. Of course, she missed Ashley very much. Devastatingly—why do you ask?)

The waiter brought her check, and she counted out some of her coins. Paying for things with her own money was a thrilling new experience. It did make her stomach flip to spend so much of her money on one meal. But it was the Windsor, she thought to herself in justification. She simply wouldn't eat at any more hotels.

A beautiful grandfather clock in the tiled lobby informed her it was 7:40. Ten minutes already, and she had to walk back. She quickened her steps.

The walk back seemed to take longer than she expected. The sun was bright, and it made her think of her dream again. It had been marvelous to be so wonderfully warm! It was unnerving. Ashley, she reminded herself. Ash- ley, Ash- ley, she thought with each step that brought her closer to her beloved. Golden-haired and dreamy-eyed, he complemented her looks so well. What a handsome pair they made! Or would make, as soon as she was back by his side.

She saw the bus terminal up ahead and smiled. Soon! her heart sang.

Her bus was at the far end from where she entered, but great glass doors stood at the other entrance. As her heels clicked across the floor, a small panic sent butterflies flitting around her stomach. Her bus was not where it had been. Perhaps they had just moved it. She ran to the door, and pushed it open. No New York bus! Where could it have gone?

She whirled around and saw a steward in uniform. "Where's the bus to New York?"

The man rocked back on his heels, a bit too jolly for Scarlett's taste. "Why, it left about twenty minutes ago."

"But that's ridiculous!" she began to explain. "I was on that bus! I told them to wait."

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's gone," he stated, with not even a drop of sympathy. Scarlett felt her temper start to fray. And then it got worse. From behind the steward she heard a voice she was already too familiar with.

"Good morning," her impudent "friend" (fiend, more like) said. "Remember me?" All too well, she silently fumed. "I'm the fellow you slept on last night." Scarlett's face grew hot. The absolute arrogance!

"Seems to me I've already thanked you for that." She turned back to the steward. "What time is the next bus?"

"8 o'clock tonight."

"Eight o'cl—! That's twelve hours from now!" she cried. But though her powers of mathematics were undeniably true, it did not change the transportation schedule of the bus company.

"I'm sorry, miss." the steward said, sounding extremely not sorry, before walking away. Leaving her alone with him.

"What's the matter?" he asked, adopting the kind of tone used for a small child having a tantrum. She longed to introduce her purse to his face. "Wouldn't the old meanies wait for you?"

Arrogant, even when he was in the same predicament as her! He was insufferable. "What are you so excited about? You missed it, too." she pointed out.

"Yeah, I missed it, too." he said, dejectedly. Something about it his words sent a shiver up her spine.

"Don't tell me you did it on my account." Ellen was right! This was what happened to girls who gave liberties! "I— hope you haven't any idea that— what happened last night—" She couldn't finish a sentence, and she felt sure she was taking the wrong approach. She tried to sound grateful without condescension. (She failed.) "Now look here, young man. You needn't concern yourself about me. I can take care of myself just fine." Her words seemed to have no effect on him. He just stared right back at her.

Then he responded, "You're doing a pretty sloppy job of it. Here's your ticket." And to her chagrin, he did indeed pull a ticket out of his pocket.

"My ticket…"

"I found it on the seat." He explained.

Scarlett quickly riffled through her purse, but unfortunately, did not find her ticket anywhere inside. She felt sheepish; she hated feeling sheepish. "Thank you," she said quietly. In his debt again! How would she ever regain the upper hand with him now? "It must have fallen out of my purse," she offered. She folded the long slip of paper and was putting it in a more secure pocket, when he said something that made her blood freeze and pool in her stomach.

"You'll never get away with it, Miss O'Hara."