Margaret Mitchell owns "Gone With the Wind" and all its characters. I own a handful of OC's and a story idea. Book-verse. Not "Scarlett" compliant.

A million thank you's to everybody who reviewed. They're encouraging and so much fun to read!!!

The only thing I hate more than Sewing Circle, thought Ella Lorena Kennedy, is Sewing Circle during June, July and August.

Of course, she hadn't known that until just this summer. From the time she started school, up until now, she had spent all her summers at her mother's farm, a good-sized piece of land out in Clayton County known as Tara. But this summer she had begged her mother to allow her to stay in town. She had friends in the country, but she was tired of missing all the fun her city friends had during the summer. Furthermore, a certain member of the Whiting clan had been coming to call quite regularly since the spring. He would be going away to college this fall and she didn't want to go to Tara all summer just to have him spark some other girl. And much to Ella's surprise, Mother had allowed her to stay.

One of the unfortunate consequences, however, was that now she had to go to Circle during the hot summer months. Ella found it tedious and dull at any time of year, but in the summer it was unbearable. Summer was for going outside, picnics by the creek, gossiping with girlfriends on the porch for long hours, exploring the riding trails. Not that Ella was forbidden these simple summertime pleasures, but she was feeling rebellious today--she didn't want to be stuck indoors to listen to a bunch of old ladies talk about things that happened a long time ago that nobody cared about anymore.

Then there was an added annoyance. Ella's best friend, Jenny Whiting, had left town with her family the day before. They were headed to Saratoga for vacation. That left Ella on her own. There were other young girls who attended these things; girls like her who were made to attend by mothers or grandmothers, but the old dragons always separated the younger girls. They said the young girls of today were too frivolous and given to chatting when they should have been working. But Ella and Jenny always managed to find some fun in Circle, usually by making faces at each other across the room then daring each other with their eyes not to laugh.

When they arrived at the Picard's house, she was able to exchange a few quick whispered words with young Virgie Simmons while Mother exchanged pleasantries with Mrs. Picard. Virgie gleefully filled her in on the latest gossip.

"You'll never guess who's here--Mrs. Meade's new hired girl--Marybeth Dandridge!"

"No!"

"Yes! And she's right in the next room, right this minute."

Ella was heartened a little. She and Jenny had heard the whole story about what happened to Mrs. Dandridge outside the store and they had discussed it at length. Now Ella would get to see her in person. Tough luck if Jenny misses out--Ella thought--serves her right, going off with her family and deserting me like that.

Ella slipped away from Virgie and into the Picard's spacious parlor. The furniture had been rearranged for Sewing Circle, and sure enough, there was the new girl.

But--something must be wrong. This was the infamous Marybeth Dandridge? Ella spied a sedate-looking lady in nondescript navy calico, brown hair pulled smoothly into a simple bun at the back of her neck, calmly sorting sewing supplies on the table in front of her. She even looked a little pale. Ella felt a frustrated disappointment.

Obviously, the gossip had spun out of control. Surely, this could not be the same girl who drove off a gang of boys, inflicting injury on one of them, then calmly proceeded to actually talk to Belle Watling. Ella and Jenny knew who Belle Watling was, of course, but they would never let their mothers know that they knew. Neither of them had any clear idea exactly what made her bad, either. Both girls had theories, of course, involving men and something unseemly about money, but they couldn't be sure. And naturally, nobody was about to tell them the truth, not at their impressionable young ages. And this decorous looking girl actually talked to her? It was barely to be believed.

But all the same, a juicy bit of gossip was a juicy bit of gossip and Jenny would be pea green with envy to find out that Ella had talked to Mrs. Dandridge first. So Ella waited until Marybeth sat down and hurried to take one of the seats next to her.

Ella pulled out the chair and smiled at Marybeth in her most dignified manner. "I am Miss Kennedy. How charming to meet you," she said as she held out her hand.

"I'm Mrs. Dandridge, likewise, I'm sure," Marybeth responded, smiling.

Well, thought Ella, Marybeth Dandridge did have a friendly smile. At least she wasn't aloof or cold.

Ella's mother sat at Ella's other side and was introduced to Marybeth. The other ladies were trickling in and finding seats. Marybeth saw Mrs. Meade take a seat across the room from her, with a sensation of alarm. Surely she wouldn't be left to flounder with all these strange ladies! But Mrs. Meade merely looked at Marybeth with an expression of encouragement that was mixed with warning not to do anything startling.

The sewing started and Marybeth, experiencing agonies of shyness, concentrated on the work in front of her. Which was actually for the best, for all the ladies in the room had heard of the incident in front of the store and although none of them said it out loud, they were all keeping an eye on Marybeth, watching her behavior minutely.

Marybeth could hear the conversation between Ella's mother, who was named Mrs. Butler, and Mrs. Elsing, who Marybeth had met at the Meade's house that one day.

"...So I said to him, the state of the country roads outside Atlanta is simply atrocious for traveling, " Mrs. Elsing was saying in an elegant, die-away drawl. Mrs. Butler nodded and murmured her assent.

Ella, still feeling rebellious, leaned over to Marybeth and in a voice too quiet for anybody but the two of them to hear, said, "It was just simply atrocious," in flawless and mocking imitation of Mrs. Elsing. Marybeth's eyes flew to hers, startled. Ella grinned at her, then resumed sewing.

"Why the last time my granddaughter tried to ride on those roads, her horse nearly threw her!" Mrs. Elsing said.

"Why, it just nearly did. Land sakes," said Ella in the same voice, with a wink at Marybeth.

Marybeth looked to Ella, then to Mrs. Elsing, who hadn't heard a word Ella said, and then back to her sewing.

"It's simply not safe for civilized travel," continued Mrs. Elsing.

Ella, who was enjoying herself immensely now that she had a captive audience, muttered, without even looking at Marybeth, "It was dreadful, I tell you, when she landed in the middle of the road, right on her bottom."

At this, Marybeth choked on a laugh, sounding instead as if she were having a coughing fit.

"Are you quite all right, Mrs. Dandridge?" Asked Ella, all wide-eyed innocence.

"Quite all right, thank you, Miss Kennedy," she answered, trying desperately to keep a straight face.

Ella was satisfied. This afternoon didn't have to be dull after all. Reverting back to her dignified voice, she asked, "Has it occurred to you, Mrs. Dandridge, that the name 'Sewing Circle for the Widows and Orphans of the Confederacy' is rather a silly name? Look at me. I was born after the War. All the orphans are all grown up now."

"Perhaps they just never got around to changing the name," Marybeth answered, trying to be reasonable. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be taking Miss Kennedy seriously and didn't know how to respond to her.

"But don't you think they would want a name that was short and less work to have to say?"

"Perhaps, but maybe they just..."

"Girls, hush!"

Their conversation had been broken into by Mrs. Butler, much to Marybeth's mortification.

"Go back to your sewing. There will by time for socializing later." Mrs. Butler gave them both a severe look before she turned her attention back to Mrs. Elsing. Marybeth blushed deeply at being corrected, but Ella looked utterly unrepentant. She simply shrugged her shoulders and continued sewing. But Marybeth glanced at Mrs. Meade, who didn't seem to have noticed anything amiss.

Once she composed herself, she looked over at Mrs. Butler. She wasn't what one would call beautiful, but she was attractive for a woman her age. Her hair was utterly black, without any trace of gray, her face was unlined. There was a look around the mouth of strong will and a look around the eyes that could have only come from forcing herself to patiently endure something she had never had any intention of enduring. But her skin was very fair and she had kept her figure, and Marybeth suspected she'd been quite the belle once upon a time.

Miss Kennedy, on the other hand, didn't look much like her mother. Ginger haired, her skin had the pale, translucent quality often found in red headed persons, yet she had somehow managed to avoid being freckled. She wasn't beautiful, either, and one couldn't even precisely call her pretty, but she was cute. Her face had a changeable quality about it, with a tiny little nose, a mouth that seemed made for laughing, and eyes full of mischief.

The rest of the afternoon was gotten through without further incidents and Marybeth and Ella parted ways cordially. But she was devoutly thankful when she and Mrs. Meade were alone in the carriage. Mrs. Meade was satisfied. Marybeth had acquitted herself well. Of course, she was aware that Scarlett Butler had scolded her and Ella for talking, but to Mrs. Meade that was nothing to be upset about. It was good to see Marybeth with a girl her own age for once. And the young girls always chattered. This younger generation simply wasn't what Mrs. Meade's generation had been, after all.

On Marybeth's part, now that the strain of meeting new people was over and she was safely away from their watchful eyes, she could enjoy the ride home. They needed to stop at Dr. Meade's office first, and the route they took was through streets Marybeth hadn't seen yet.

She was staring out the window when a particular building caught her eye. It was a Catholic church. Marybeth looked at it curiously and arranged her face into a carefully blank expression as a wave of homesickness hit her hard.

She hadn't been to her own church since she ran away from home. But Marybeth was raised to respect religion and that lesson had always stuck. Besides, she believed that miracles were wont to happen with prayers and churches. In any case, a miracle had happened to her once.

When her first pregnancy had advanced to the point where she was too unwieldy to steal and too slow to fight, desperation set in. It was winter, she was cold and hungry, and it had come home to her just how reckless and foolhardy it had been for her to run away and try to survive on her own. She was wandering along the streets of a large town when she happened to see the sign for a meeting to be led by a traveling preacher in a local Protestant church. Marybeth decided then and there that she would go. She needed to get in from out of the cold for a while.

When she arrived at the church, she found a spot in the back corner and sat down in the pew gratefully. She felt safe here, and it was warm. As far as she was concerned, the meeting could go on all night.

The building started filling up and the warmth of all the bodies packed together was making her drowsy. She was almost about to fall asleep when the organ blared and the congregation got up to sing. She stood up with the rest, but she didn't know the hymns. "Rock of Ages", "Old Rugged Cross", "How Great Thou Art", all utterly foreign to her. But it didn't matter. Then the preacher got up and preached, loudly at the top of his voice. He talked about sin, he talked about salvation. Marybeth couldn't help being amazed at how noisy Protestants were when they prayed, but she was too tired and hungry to care. She was sitting down and he was preaching a nice long sermon.

Then he invited everyone to pray. For the first time in several months, she actually prayed--Lord help me and my baby. I'm desperate.

Then the organ blared again for the altar call--everybody who wished to be saved could go to the altar to be prayed over. Some people started leaving then, but Marybeth didn't want to because the only place she had to go was out into the cold. So she stayed in the back and watched.

As the newly saved Christians started to file out, one of them, a middle-aged woman full of charity and Spirit and eager to do good caught her eye and approached her. The two of them struck up a conversation until the woman's husband and children came up from the altar and joined them. Then the woman pulled her husband aside and the two of them had an urgent, whispered conference, the end result being that they extended an invitation to Marybeth to stay with them. They were a farm family and in need of a hired girl. In exchange, they would help Marybeth through the latter part of her pregnancy. Marybeth agreed. Her miracle happened--she found a place to stay.

A/N: Okay, end of this chapter. I hope you liked it. Please review, and coming up next: a Scarlett-centric chapter.