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.

You readers are the greatest—so many reviews! I hope you like this story arc, too. Welcome back Rhett.

Scarlett rubbed her hands together and blew on them to keep warm. She was out back in her own garden, waiting for Atlas to be finished with his business, but to her dismay, he was happily loping along the perimeter of the yard, now sniffing the ground, now sniffing the air.

It was early March and the sun was gaining in strength. No longer was it the weak, distant sun of winter--when it shined full on and the air was still, Scarlett was content to turn her face to the sky and feel its warmth. But the when the breeze blew and the sun passed behind the clouds she hugged herself and thought longingly of her nice warm house and grew impatient to go inside. And it was the type of day that saw more clouds and wind than sun.

She had only bothered to throw on a thin shawl over her dress because she had only meant to be outside for five minutes at the most, but unfortunately, she hadn't counted on the dog wanting to frisk in the brisk, refreshing air.

She stamped her feet and rubbed her arms as she shivered, annoyed at being stranded out here. But she told Pork she would do it, and do it she would.

With a sigh of resignation over the delay in getting back inside, Scarlett wandered slowly up and down the sleeping flowerbeds. She passed dormant roses, hydrangeas, gardenias. All in good taste and none of it of her own choosing. She hired a gardener that had come to her highly recommended and gave him a free hand at the planning and laying out. The results were beautiful. That was all Scarlett cared about.

She lowered herself until she was perched on the little brick wall at the edge of one of the flowerbeds. She folded her hands in her lap and shivered and waited. Then she happened to look down into the flowerbed. There had been rain the previous day and the soft soil was still moist. Without knowing why she did it, she put her hand flat on the cold wet earth and rested it there. Of course, that made her palm dirty, and snorting at her own silly impulse, she tried to brush off the dirt with her other hand, but she only succeeded in smearing it around.

She remembered how it was after the War. By necessity, she had often crouched down on her knees to pull the weeds from the vegetable garden, or stooped to pick cotton. Today she put her hand in the soil again, and pinched a little bit off, feeling its tilth. It was good rich earth, she thought. Of course, she paid enough to have it tended and fertilized to be that way.

Something stirred in her mind. Something was nagging at the edge of her consciousness, something she couldn't quite hold on to. She knelt down at the edge of the flowerbed, feeling the soil with her hands, feeling the kernel of an idea take hold in her brain, expand, grow into life...

Her train of thought was abruptly broken into by Pork.

"Miz Scarlett. Captain Butler done come home."

Her heart leaped at his words and at the same time she felt a rebellious twinge of annoyance that her thoughts had been interrupted. But she straightened up and glanced over at Atlas. He was almost finished his romp.

"Does you wan' me to take ober hyah?"

Scarlett glanced down then at her muddy self. There was dirt on her skirt and hands and probably on her forehead too, where she had brushed hair out of her face. She was about to greet her husband who had been absent for four months looking like a grubby child.

"No, no, Pork. Your hands are clean. Just tell Captain Butler I'll be in directly."

oOoOoOo

Rhett grew tired of waiting for Scarlett in the foyer and felt more than a little put out. She always ran to meet him when he came home. What could be wrong? If she were sick, Pork would have told him right away. What could possibly be so important that she was keeping him waiting?

Rhett barely realized that he was having such thoughts. He was only conscious of a pervasive annoyance at being kept waiting. Of course, he hadn't been left all alone to wait. Ella had run down to greet him and she was chattering happily to him. He didn't expect to see Wade until suppertime when he would come home from the office.

Just as Rhett was about to give up waiting for Scarlett and make his way to his room, she came in to greet him, trotting quickly with a half-grown Labrador at her heels. The dog saw Rhett and bristled defensively with a little growl, but at a sharp command from Scarlett he lay down quietly. However, his eyes never wavered from Rhett.

Scarlett held her hands up, in a gesture of apology.

"I haven't freshened up yet, Rhett--out in the garden, see?--But if you'll give me a moment...?" She paused as though she was waiting for his response.

Not even a proper greeting! Rhett looked at her--her cheeks were crimson from the windy day, her dress was spotted with dirt, her hair disheveled. She even had dirt under her fingernails! But this untidy appearance was no symptom of a mental breakdown. Even as she stood waiting for his answer, he could see the mask come over her face, the one he thought of as the "Great Lady". However, the sparkle in her eyes as she came running in from the yard, the one that was now fading, that was from enjoyment. Scarlett had been enjoying herself without him. And he resisted admitting it to himself, because he knew it was petty, but the idea irritated him.

Rhett nodded and Scarlett swept up the stairs, the dog following her closely. She paused halfway up, turned a little at the waist and called out over her shoulder.

"Shall I meet you in the parlor, Rhett?"

"That will be fine."

She nodded and disappeared into the second floor.

oOoOoOo

"Spain promised them greater autonomy in the truce after the Ten Years War." Wade said over the dinner table to Rhett.

"Yes that's true," Rhett replied, "but she hasn't delivered--not to the degree the Cubans had hoped for."

"Is it true they may abolish slavery soon?"

"It looks likely they will--in the next few years, anyway."

They were all seated around the dining room table that night, Scarlett and Rhett, Wade and Ella. Rhett had been in Cuba these past months and he was regaling them with stories about the things he had seen. Wade enjoyed talking about politics and current news with his stepfather and the two men fell into a rather serious conversation about the world situation.

Scarlett watched with some amusement as Ella's eyes glazed over. The girl didn't even try to follow the men's talk. Scarlett did try, because she thought it would please Rhett, but try as she might, her mind drifted away down its own convoluted paths. She ate quietly and rather automatically, and resumed the train of thought that had begun in the garden.

Rhett saw her faraway look and said, "Scarlett."

But Scarlett, who wasn't even aware that she had stopped her fork midway to her mouth, continued to stare at nothing.

"Scarlett!" Said Rhett, rather severely.

Scarlett jumped and blushed at being caught staring. "Azaleas!" She said, apropos of nothing.

Rhett, Wade, and Ella all peered at her curiously.

Scarlett resumed her composure with the swiftness of years of practice. "I beg your pardon, Rhett. You were saying...?"

"What were you talking about--azaleas?"

"Oh..." and she gave a little polite laugh. "The thought just occurred to me. Perhaps azaleas would be nice in the garden this year. Red, maybe, or dark pink...But enough about that. Please, Rhett, go on. What were you saying?"

At that, Rhett continued his conversation, but he couldn't shake the uneasy conviction that she was only humoring him.

oOoOoOo

The next time Marybeth went to visit with Ella, she met Captain Butler for the first time.

He took her hand politely, but he looked preoccupied and Marybeth knew he was only giving her the most cursory attention. She studied him closely, however. He was the stepfather of her beau, and she couldn't help but be curious about him. He was a distinguished looking man, his hair iron gray, eyes black and piercing. He was tall and broad, not fat, although he had some of the softening common to middle age. But his body still hinted at strength and power. It wasn't hard for Marybeth to see what Mrs. Butler had seen in him and she thought it was a shame that they didn't seem to get along very well. At least according to what all the gossip alleged.

oOoOoOo

Rhett paced in his sitting room--he had been away too long, he realized it now. Actually, he hadn't been away for very long at all, but since the night Melanie died he could not remember that he had ever come back to Atlanta to see such big changes in his family.

First there was Scarlett. She had barely paid him any attention above simple common courtesy. She had to be dragged in from the garden even to greet him. Then there was Wade, relaxed and quietly confident for the first time since Rhett had ever known him. Rhett had known the boy ever since he was a baby and it always seemed to him that he was like a tightly wound coil, ready to spring at any moment, but never quite springing, simply building up more and more tension as time went by. Finally, there was Ella carrying herself with a woman's self-assurance--the kind that comes when she knows she is desirable and wanted--plain little carthorse Ella! She had always been loveable, but now it was easy to see she was loved. It seemed to him that they were all changing but he was remaining static.

He left his sitting room, not really sure where he was planning to go, but he had a vague idea that he might saddle up and go for a ride. As he approached the top of the stair, he saw a group of young people standing in the foyer, laughing and chattering animatedly. Several of Ella's and Wade's friends had dropped by while Rhett was upstairs and he was surprised to see that new friend of Ella's--Marybeth something-or-other-- lift a little girl from Prissy's arms and put her in a buggy. But he was even more surprised to see her take a little boy from Wade's hands and settle him in next to the girl. Marybeth smiled her thanks to Wade and although he couldn't hear what the two young people were saying to each other, their easy camaraderie was not lost on Rhett. Wade actually looked courtly as he brushed a curl back from Marybeth's shoulder. The touch was unmistakably a caress and it was clear from her face that she welcomed his attentions. Then he saw Wade lean over and shake hands gravely with the little boy in the buggy.

So that was where Wade's newfound confidence had come from--not from his budding law career, but from that girl. Rhett wished he had looked over Marybeth more closely. His only impression of her was she had a pretty face and figure--but she had not struck him as overly remarkable in any way. Besides, he couldn't reasonably be expected to remember every one of Ella's giggling girlfriends.

The sight of Wade with Marybeth affected him strangely. Rhett had never courted a lady that way. In his rebellious youth, his desires towards women were very simple, and they could be met by the right kind of girl--or for the right price. He and Scarlett had certainly never had a conventional courtship. Sure, he called on her during the War, but he certainly didn't murmur sweet nothings to her--he didn't dare for fear Scarlett would maneuver to get the upper hand over him. But now he found himself wondering what it would have been like--the friendship deepening into love, the tender look over clasped hands, the careful stepwise courtship rituals that everyone else seemed to like. Then he shrugged. It was probably old age creeping up on him and making him sentimental.

oOoOoOo

Later that evening, Rhett went for a stroll in the back garden, where he encountered Ella sitting on one of the benches and staring with a dreamy little smile on her face. Frankie had been especially romantic the last time they were alone together, comparing her to a summer daisy. In her gratitude, she gave him a lock of her hair to remember her by. Of course, she knew her day of reckoning was coming, but May and the end of Albert's school term seemed very far away right now and she was making the most of the time she had left. Rhett looked at her amused for a moment before he broke into her reverie with a little wave. He made as if to sit next to her, but she grinned and jumped up.

"No, no. Let's take a walk, Uncle Rhett." And they meandered slowly towards the back paddock.

"Did you have fun with your friends this afternoon? You were certainly making enough noise," Rhett said gruffly.

"We were? Oh, I'm sorry--hey wait a minute, you're teasing me!" She laughed as he smiled down at her. Ella was gullible enough to make her very easy to tease, but she rarely took offence.

"I was surprised, however, not to see Jenny here," he said idly. They were at the back paddock now, watching the horses. Ella heaved herself up on the bottom rail and swayed gently side to side while holding the top rail.

"And you won't, either. She's not welcome anymore." The harshness in her voice made Rhett look at her, startled.

"Ella, I'm surprised at you. I've never known you to hold a grudge."

Ella's shoulders drooped sadly and she stopped swaying. "We had a fight. It was terrible."

"Why don't you tell me all about it," he said soothingly.

She stepped back down onto the ground. "Jenny scolded me, Uncle Rhett," she cried in tones of bitter anguish. "Scolded me because I let Frankie Bonnell kiss me and..."

"Wait a minute--I thought Albert Whiting was courting you. Did you jilt Albert?"

"N-no, he's still my beau."

"But you let Frankie Bonnell kiss you?" He asked rather sternly.

"Oh, not you too, Uncle Rhett," she said sorrowfully.

"Oh, yes me too, Uncle Rhett. I'm your stepfather and it's my job to guide you through the perils of growing up. Now listen to me. You must be very circumspect when it comes to your young men, Ella. I don't care how many suitors you collect, but I do care very much that they don't feel free to take liberties with you."

"Uncle Rhett," she blushed.

"No, Ella, you're old enough to hear this. A girl can get herself a reputation for being fast very easily. I don't recommend you getting too cozy with just any young man who shows an interest in you. Not only do you run the risk of getting a reputation, you also run the very real risk of inflaming somebody's passions...then what will you do if he doesn't take no for an answer?"

Ella blushed even redder, but her embarrassment at his frank speech goaded her into saying, "Am I to believe, Uncle Rhett, that you never kissed Mother before you married her?"

"Don't be impertinent, Miss," he said sternly. "Besides, you really should be having this talk with your mother."

Ella shrugged. "Oh, you know her. She would just say 'don't let a boy take liberties with you, Ella', or 'mind your reputation, Ella'." Her voice had risen to a mocking falsetto as she mimicked Scarlett. "I wanted to get a real opinion--a man's opinion."

Rhett thought Ella's impersonation of Scarlett was funny, but he didn't dare show it. Regardless of his own jumbled feelings about his wife, he would not stoop to undercutting her authority with her own children. But Ella's words forced him to react. For all the world he would not have encouraged Scarlett's vanity by agreeing with her, but she was nowhere to be seen. Therefore, Rhett felt quite safe in declaring, "Your mother is right, you know. You should listen to her."

"Oh please, oh please, don't tell Mother I was kissing Frankie!" Ella begged, clasping her hands together.

Rhett sighed heavily, not pleased to find himself in the middle of this situation, but before he could say any more, Ella had continued. "Why do you and mother fight so much?"

The question startled him even though he was used to Ella's trick of abruptly changing the subject in the middle of a conversation. Scarlett had always thought it meant Ella wasn't too bright, but Rhett sometimes wondered if the opposite were true--that she simply thought about so many things she couldn't keep her attention on any one thing for too long.

"We don't fight that much," he replied warily.

"Well...you don't come home very often and when you do you don't spend that much time together. I would think after your long business trips you and mother would have a lot to talk about."

"You don't have to worry about it. Scarlett and I are content this way."

Ella noticed he had said Scarlett and not your mother. She knew that the safest thing would be to change the subject once more and talk about something else, something safe, but she was warming up to her topic. "No you're not. Nobody could be content barely even talking to the person he loved."

"Ella, your mother's and my personal life is none of your business." He raised his voice warningly and spoke severely.

Ella lowered her head guiltily. But when he turned to go, she stepped beside him, checking his departure, then took his arm and leaned her cheek against it. It was rock hard from Rhett holding himself stiffly. She knew she'd gone too far. But she was also confident that he would not stop caring about her merely because she took him to task. Still leaning against him she looked up appealingly into his face. "I didn't mean to be impertinent, Uncle Rhett. I'm sorry if I made you angry." She was the very picture of humble apology.

Rhett looked down at his stepdaughter's remorseful face. He stroked her cheek lightly but untangled her from his arm.

"I miss you, Uncle Rhett," she said quietly. "I miss having you to talk to

like this, man-to-man." Then she giggled. "I mean man-to...-girl."

Not a muscle in Rhett's face changed, but her words smote him almost as badly as Scarlett's determined cheerfulness did. He was very aware of how he was acting, aware that he was not only being no gentleman, but not even a decent human being. But he couldn't, just couldn't, be to Scarlett what she craved of him...

As if conjured from thin air by their talking about her, the back door swung open and Scarlett descended the steps and made her way towards him. As always this visit, that dog was following her.

Rhett took Ella's face in his hands and spoke quietly. "It's just not possible for me to be home more often at this time--you wouldn't understand. A lot of it had to do with things that happened before you were even born..." He kissed Ella's forehead lightly as Scarlett joined them.

Scarlett nodded to her husband and daughter briefly. She hadn't heard what they were talking about, but although she was curious, she wouldn't lower herself to ask or even show any interest. She rested her arms on the fence and asked, pointing to a particular horse, "What do you think about Coal, Rhett? Wade just bought him a couple months ago."

"He looks like a good horse--well configured and he seems sound. Of course, until I see Wade put him through his paces, I won't know for sure."

"He's hot," Ella said, using the word that described a lively mount. "But Wade handles him well."

Rhett was relieved that conversation was now on safer ground. He worried about Ella's reputation and happiness, even if he was only her stepfather. But imagine her asking him probing questions about his and Scarlett's marriage! She was a lot more aware of life than Rhett gave her credit for. He had been almost relieved to see Scarlett just now and grateful that she joined them, even if they only talked about safe, neutral subjects. Especially because they only talked about safe, neutral subjects.

oOoOoOo

Belle Watling hummed to herself as she flitted around her luxurious private rooms. Rhett's back! She thought happily to herself. Rhett Butler has come back to Atlanta. After all these many years the thought of Rhett never failed to set her heart a-flutter. He was the one man--the one! The others had been merely business associates, clients. But Rhett was the beginning and the end of her life.

Belle pinned her auburn curls into place. And looked into the mirror. She had a sense of humor, and she couldn't help laughing at her own reflection before she sighed. She had once been pretty, saucy, fiery, well-liked, a good sort. "Heart of gold" was the common expression. But now she looked like what she was--a woman of a certain age who lay with men for a living. And too many men and too much strong liquor had taken its toll on her looks.

Now she looked frowsy, rather matronly. She had gained quite a bit of weight. But somehow she always managed to avoid looking hard--instead she looked weary and used and above all, her most frequent emotion these days was a pervasive fatigue. She was tired in her mind and in her body. On many days it was only the sheer force of will that made her get up out of bed in the morning.

Belle was plenty wealthy these days. If she wanted to, she could sell her House, or even give it away, pack up and move to a part of the country where nobody knew her and start over with a facade of respectability. Sometimes she entertained the possibility--some sleepy little town full of sleepy, respectable people where she could blend in and live in anonymity. She was fifty years old now and she knew she was nearly through the change of life--her monthlies were sparse and infrequent and it wouldn't be long until they ceased altogether. Then she would be considered to be past the age of being susceptible to fleshly urges and could live alone without arousing suspicion.

But if she moved away, she might never see Rhett again.

Belle was under no illusions as to what she meant to him. She was convenient to visit whenever he was in Atlanta and he never failed to visit her. He liked her and he was even fond of her, but she doubted that he would search the ends of the earth just to find her. And she still needed him in her life.

When Rhett was around she got her old sparkle back. He didn't seem to mind her wrinkles or her excess weight or her hair that showed gray at the roots if she wasn't diligent with dying it every four weeks. She admired him unashamedly and he found comfort in her admiration. Not like that cold-hearted woman he was actually married to.

If there was one person in all the world Belle hated it was Scarlett Butler. Well, maybe hate was too strong a word. She didn't want to see Scarlett dead, for instance, but she would have liked Scarlett to be out of the way. Divorced from Rhett, maybe, or gone back to that Tara where she came from. But Belle was a shrewd woman. She knew that Rhett's ongoing obsession with his wife would not be resolved by her simply moving away. So Belle tried to compensate.

She would have died before admitting it to anybody, but sometimes, secretly, Belle pretended she was Rhett's wife. She practically was, she argued to herself. When he was in town she had his favorite meals prepared, his favorite cigars and brandy at the ready, she listened to all his stories and stroked his vanity. And she knew he was content with her, after a fashion.

He wasn't as fiery and impetuous as he once was, and although he still took her to his arms with that old familiar gleam in his eyes, she had noticed that it happened less frequently than of yore. Of course, that was to be expected--he was fifty-seven now, neither of them as young as they used to be--but Belle had never ceased to be foolish where he was concerned.

Her heart pounded wildly when she heard his familiar knock, and she ran to the door to greet him.

"Hello Rhett," she greeted him, voice smoky.

He took her hand and brushed his lips through her curls before he went to his favorite armchair and sank down heavily with an equally heavy sigh.

"Brandy, Rhett?"

"Whiskey," he said curtly.

Belle knew Rhett's moods better than anyone and she knew better than to ask him what the trouble was. He would eventually tell her in his own good time. But she looked at him sharply before pouring his drink at the sideboard. She was grateful she could turn her back to him to fix his drink, because she needed time to compose herself. Scarlett! She thought savagely, along with a few choice swear words. His wife had managed to get under his skin yet again and now she, Belle, would have to try to soothe him. She poured a second whiskey for herself.

"Supper will be up soon," she said as she handed him his drink. He took it from her with a muffled thanks.

"It's good to have you back, Rhett. Where did you go this time?" She loved to hear all his adventures. She wished she could have adventures along with him.

"Cuba." And with that he launched into a rather long story, which she listened to with glowing eyes, and bated breath. The sight of her interest smoothed his vanity and he became more animated and less morose in the course of his telling.

Finally his monolog was finished and so was his second whiskey--for she had poured him another when she saw how the first one relaxed him. By now supper had arrived and they were enjoying the main course when he sighed and gave her a lopsided grin. "Everything's changing, Belle. I feel the passage of years lately. For the first time I really realized the children are growing up." He always referred to them as the children, not Scarlett's children.

But Belle was gladdened to see a smile, even a little one, and she spoke without thinking. "Don't they grow up so fast? Why it seems only yesterday...But look at your Wade, courting that hired girl of the Meades."

Rhett wasn't surprised that Belle would know such a thing. The grapevine among the fancy ladies was second only to the grapevine among the Negro servants. But he looked at her, suddenly alert. "The Meades' hired girl? That--Marybeth--works for the Meades?"

He didn't know, then. Belle cursed herself for opening her mouth. She didn't want to make trouble for the girl, but she had fairly put her foot in it now. She never divulged the sources of her gossip, even to Rhett, but she could have told him that despite the popular opinion, men were worse talebearers than women. Eventually all the gossip of the Old Guard families reached Belle's ears and Marybeth was an anomaly, a white hired girl for an Old Guard family. Belle tried to smooth it all over.

"I met her once. She was very nice." Belle declared, but was instantly sorry she did when she saw Rhett look at her with that cat-at-the-mouse-hole look.

"How would you have met her?" He asked smoothly.

Belle sighed, sorry she had broached the subject. But of all the strange things she had seen and done in her life, her one and only encounter with Marybeth had been one of the strangest. So she told the story, careful to make it plain to Rhett that she had never seen the girl either before or after. Again, Belle was under no illusions. For all that Rhett had been a roué in his checkered youth, for all that he fancied himself to be a free thinker, he would not want Wade to court a girl with a reputation. He wouldn't object to Wade dallying with such a girl, but serious, devoted courtship would be out of the question.

Rhett listened carefully to her story but offered no comment. Belle could only hope she hadn't made trouble for the girl.