This chapter is shorter than I normally write, but it's in Rhett's POV and I just wasn't sure how close I was to his personality. I mean, I tried but I'm just not sure I captured it. If any of you who read this could please let me know what you think, I would be so grateful. Writing Rhett was much harder than Scarlett, mainly because Rhett is so complex even though Clark Gable made it look effortless. Thanks for the wonderful, wonderful reviews. I loved each and every one. You just don't realize how thrilled I get when I get one, lol. Sad I know, but it's the truth. Thanks again!

The Journey Home

Chapter Five

Whispers in the Dark

The soft sway of the carriage as it passed through the streets of Charleston lulled Rhett into complacency. Charleston, like most of the south, was going through a transformation. It was mostly out of necessity and not necessarily out of want. No, this was a begrudging change for most of the people who lived here who didn't want to give up their way of life as it was before the war.

There was no way to keep the change from occurring. This was a new south and those who didn't change, were left behind. Rhett had always considered himself a man who thrived on change, but now he wanted stability. He wanted to come home and find the part of himself he had lost.

As the buggy rounded the corner, his childhood home came into view. It was at the end of the tree lined street with its six white columns standing straight and narrow. It was as impressive to him now as it was when he was a child, as the size of it took up several acres in width.

A black, wrought iron fence separated it from the street, it in itself a work of beauty with elegant scroll work and two large 'B's inlaid on the gate doors. The clop of the horse's hooves slowed as they neared the gates, which were promptly opened so they could pass through.

The carriage circled around the long driveway coming to a stop in front of the immense white doors. In a few moments, those doors opened and Clarice Butler came out to greet her wayward son. She was a petite woman, but that did nothing to diminish her strength of character. With her dark hair and eyes, her son's resemblance to her was unmistakable.

"Rhett," she waved to him. He smiled and opened the door, stepping down on to the crushed gravel. A sense of belonging immediately came over him upon seeing her.

"Hello, Mother," he said sweeping the hat off of his head as he came up the steps to embrace her. He kissed her cheek and she in turn kissed him back.

"It's been too long," she said, her eyes watering slightly.

"Too long," he repeated with a nod. "But, I'm home now."

"It's so good to see you, Rhett. I've missed you so much."

"As I have you," he answered.

"Let's go inside, shall we?" she linked her arm through his. "There's much we need to talk about."

Rhett followed his mother's lead into the house. When he stepped into the foyer he glanced around and was pleased to note that not much had changed since he was a child. The beautiful banistered staircase circled up to the second floor and disappeared into the wide landing. Laying his hat on the large round table nearby, he turned to his mother.

"It's good to be home," he said with a smile.

"It's good to have you home. Let's go out on the patio, darling. I enjoy sitting out there most days where I can feel the sunshine. I've had our lunch brought out there as well. I do hope you're hungry."

"Yes, very," he nodded and once again followed her lead. Stepping out onto the expansive landing he noted that a glass picture of lemonade and tray laden with food awaited them.

"I'll have Sissy bring a cigar tray, I know how you enjoy one after a meal."

"Thank you," he said as he sat down.

Clarice dispersed the food into their plates and settled back in the chair. She studied her son for a moment as he ate. "Rhett, I'm worried about you. You look so tired and you've lost weight, too. I know you've been through an ordeal, but your health is important."

"I'm fine, Mother."

"So, you would have me to believe. Don't you know I understand what you've been through? I am your mother and I have lost a child as well," she paused after she said it "It's something you quite never get over."

Rhett lifted his eyes to connect with his mother's. He had forgotten about his older brother, William who had died when Rhett was only two. He didn't remember him and sometimes he forgot that he had ever had a brother. "William," he said quietly.

"Yes, William, my firstborn," she lowered her head. "He was beautiful child, so full of energy. Although his sudden sickness took him from me, I think of him often. That's how I know how you feel, Rhett."

"I appreciate your concern, Mother, really I do."

"Rhett," she started as if something occurred to her. "How is Scarlett? Poor dear, she must be devastated."

Rhett quickly felt his tenseness return at the mention of Scarlett's name. His mother no doubt sensed it because she gave him a puzzled look. "Is something wrong? Scarlett is alright, isn't she?"

"Scarlett is fine," he answered laying his napkin aside.

"Why do I sense something is wrong? What aren't you telling me?"

"I don't think now is the time," he replied, but his tone was cooler.

"Now is the time. I want to know what is going on once and for all between you and my daughter in law. I am not a fool, I can see something is not right and has not been for some time."

"Mother, Scarlett and I have always had our differences and we always will. Let's just leave it at that."

"Is that why you aren't with her now? Is that why you're here and she's not?"

Sighing, Rhett linked his fingers together. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"I do," she nodded.

"I left her," he said as unemotional as he felt. "I'm filing for divorce."

Clarice's face fell the instant he said the words. "Divorce?" she breathed. "Rhett, you can't be serious."

"I am. Scarlett and I no longer have a life together. She doesn't need me and I… I don't need her. It's over."

"But, Rhett," she reached over and took his hand. "Can't you try and work it out? Can't you at least try?"

"There's nothing to work out," he shook his head. "I want to be free from it all."

"You and Scarlett have your differences, yes, but you do need each other in spite of what you may think. She's the only woman I know you've ever cared about and you can't deny that."

"No," he admitted. "But, caring for Scarlett is too hard. There was a time we had a chance, but not anymore. Not since Bonnie."

"Do you still love her?" she asked softly.

Rhett turned away from her so that she wouldn't see the truth in his eyes. "That is not the issue at hand. It's over," he said firmly.

"It will never truly be over as long as you have feelings for her."

"Mother, I appreciate what you're trying to do but I can take care of my own affairs and my marriage. Please, for me, don't interfere."

Clarice leaned back in her chair. Her features gave nothing away of her true feelings, but Rhett knew all too clear what they were. He had lost his appetite and simply wanted to be alone. He pushed his plate back and stood. "I'm going to my room and unpack. I'll be back down later." He kissed her on the cheek and then disappeared through the patio doors.

Hours later, sprawled out on his bed, a half a pint of whiskey on the night table, Rhett was staring blankly at the ceiling. No matter how much he drank he could not escape the memory of Scarlett. He hated her, he loved her, she was poison to anyone close to her and yet she was the only woman he had ever wanted. Tumultuous thoughts kept running through his mind until he could stand it no longer. He abruptly stood from the bed and grabbed the bottle. He staggered over to the chair in front of the fireplace and fell back into it.

He took a swig hoping the alcohol would burn her from his mind. So far, he hadn't had any success. When would he be free from her? What would it take to remove her from his senses? She was a like a ghost haunting him, hovering over him like a vapor. He closed his eyes tightly and willed her from his mind. One way or the other, he would free himself from the spell of Scarlett O'Hara… one way or the other.