5. Scarlett

I remember very little about that first supper with Rhett after he had left me standing at the door a second time. At the end of it, he kissed me goodnight, then walked upstairs to say goodbye to the children. Then, he left Wade and Ella standing like statues at their nursery door, bewildered that he was leaving them so shortly after arriving.

"You're looking pale, Scarlett," he said, then turned around slowly toward the door, then back again. "You know, you have a duty to enjoy yourself."

And then he left, as quickly as he had come.

In the first few weeks of November, I ate nothing besides ham and biscuits. Isn't that silly? Such childish fare. But the thought of brandy and the accompanying evening meal made me nauseous, so Ella, Wade and I had our ham and biscuits. Ham and biscuits I could eat. It was all I could eat.

But in public, my performance was impeccable, as well as any stage player. I did not wail or keen or in any way direct the attention of the Old Guard away from Ashley. I wore mourning black for Melly, but not a weeping veil - India couldn't say that I was behaving out of place. I sat dutifully in the back row of Immaculate Conception, made my introductions to the priest who had been Melly's friend, and made the necessary preparations for Ella's First Communion in the spring.

And I worried about Ashley, who in turn worried about me. Rhett will come back, he said.

Rhett will come back.

Rhett will come back, like a litany.

In the end, he was right.

But not in the way I might have desired.

December 20, 1873.

I walked into the hospital on Courtland and Baker and held his swollen hand.

I'm sorry, Scarlett, I still don't know where this is going, Dr. Meade had said.

I walked home, wanting nothing more than to reconstruct the series of events that preceded that night. He had come home on December 18 on the noon train. He had been tired, feeling terrible. He had said hello to Ella and Wade as they played on the floor underneath the Christmas tree, then had gone straight to bed.

On the 19th, I sent for Dr. Meade, who recommended that he be transferred to the hospital immediately for observation. He was having difficulty breathing. Dr. Meade said many things that I didn't understand, words like severe dehydration, elevated pulse.

I walked into that hospital and explained to the Sister of Mercy that I was his wife, that we had not seen each other in over a month, that I had no idea how long he'd been ill or where he had been, for that matter. I remember that she looked like Careen, a baby faced angel; she asked if I needed a priest. I said no, but thank you.

I woke early the next morning and was greeted by Dr. Meade, who was filled with encouragement that Rhett had made it through the night. But be prepared, Scarlett, he said. Be prepared for the worst.

Ashley walked with me to the hospital after I fed the children their breakfast. How? He kept asking.

How does something like this happen? Something about it seemed to defy his understanding. God, the God in whom Ashley trusted, had seen fit to take Melly from him, and now appeared to be on the verge of taking Rhett from me as well.

I looked up at Ashley, the broken, ruined shell of the boy I'd fallen in love with. Only Rhett's shallow, laborious breathing separated our being together. Something in that defied my own understanding. But I managed, as I always do.

Even when Ashley wept, I squeezed his hand reassuringly.

The kind little Sister asked if I'd like to see Rhett. I scarcely recognized him. His fingers and face were swollen, his lips cracked with fever, his hair matted and sweat-soaked.

I kissed his swollen face.

"I love you."

We were married September 17, 1868, in the Fulton County Courthouse in Atlanta. He was wearing a blue suit, and I a white silk dress. I wouldn't have selected white for a wedding gown if I'd not seen a Harpers' article about some European royal who had done the same.

There was no procession, no music. It was scandalous enough that I was only a year out of mourning for poor dead Frank. Mother and Pa were both dead too. There was no one to hold my arm as I walked towards my smirking groom. I saw Ashley's pale face, looking thoroughly vacant; next to him, Melly was radiant in blue silk. It might have been the same dress she wore to his last birthday party… Suddenly, the enormity of what I was doing hit me, and I began to weep. The justice of the peace actually handed me a handkerchief from his own pocket so that I could wipe the tears from my eyes.

When it was done, he took me to the bridal suite of the National, to wait for the train that would take us to New Orleans. Wade and Ella were at Melly and Ashley's, much to the delight of both Wade and Melly.

"Wasn't that a perfect day, Scarlett?" Melly had said. "I think that you and Captain Butler will be very happy together."

There was a bottle of champagne waiting for us in the suite. I drank most of it and fell asleep crying in Rhett's arms.

During the first week or two after he left, I was walking down the empty corridors of the Peachtree house and shut all the doors. I would avoid looking at any reminders of our marriage, of Bonnie… anything. But I couldn't avoid them by not looking. Rhett is so utterly a part of my life in all its stages. For over a decade, he has been a constant presence- he's been a parent, a husband, a lover, a friend.

Without him I am naked, vulnerable, open. Without him, I am incomplete. I understand how Ashley feels now that Melly is gone.

I understood for the first time what the widows in India who throw themselves on burning pyres are thinking. They are nothing without their lover, just as Ashley is nothing without Melly. He lives, eats, breathes, carries on...but he is not whole. He might as well be with her. I might as well be in that hospital bed with Rhett.

I wanted to scream as I watched him linger in that bed that truly wasn't large enough to hold his tall, broad frame. I wanted him back, and not in the way that I had the day he had left. I no longer wanted to "win" him. I no longer wanted him to love me. I just wanted him to be.

I do believe that was the night that I fell out of love. It was also the night that I learned how to love.

And I wept, as I did the night of my wedding - wishing for nothing more than the feel of Rhett's strong arms holding me close.