This chapter went in a completely different direction than I had previously planned. Blame my fingers for typing it.

Pittypat Hamilton's jowls trembled as she hurried from the carriage where old Uncle Peter waited. She had heard through the grapevine, naturally, that Rhett Butler had left town and had come to see how Scarlett was doing (but secretly wished to see if the rumors were true).

The servant who answered the door stared, wide eyed, at the daunting task of having to rouse Scarlett Butler for a caller.

"You sho you want to see her?" the servant inquired, wringing her hands.

"Of course I want to see her," said Pitty, indignant and fluttery. "Do you suppose I would drive all this way only to be turned away?" The servant shrugged and motioned for Pitty to wait in the parlor.

"Juss sayin' I warned you," said the servant under her breath. Pitty feigned deafness. As the servant girl traipsed as slowly as possible up the long staircase, Pittypat opened her fan and cooled her face. For such a dark home it was stifling. Pitty sniffed the musty air, and suspected the windows had not been opened in some time.

The minutes ticked by, and Pitty grew more and more flustered with every passing second. Perhaps, she thought, satisfying her curiosity was not worth the anxious waiting.

"Oh dear," Pittypat sighed to herself, utterly distraught.

Finally, finally (any longer and surely she would have died from waiting) she could hear the thumping of Scarlett's feet as she descended the stairs. Pitty stood as Scarlett rounded the corner, and gasped.

Scarlett wore the same mourning gown she had worn at Melanie's funeral months ago. It looked as though it had not been washed or pressed since then. The basque, which was meant to be buttoned up to the neck, was spread wide just above her bosom, showcasing Scarlett's hollowed collarbones. And her hair! It was not pulled up in a polite chignon as was customary to greet callers. Instead it flowed down her back, a ridiculous mass of black curls.

"Oh," said Pitty, "Oh! I feel faint!" Scarlett scowled and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the door jar.

"I'm surprised at you, Pittypat Hamilton! Having the nerve to come over and see me, even as I am not received."

"Well, dear, you're still family! I've been wanting to come by and see how you've been since Melanie-"

"Don't speak to me about Melly," Scarlett snapped, and Pitty trembled. "And I doubt you came over simply to see how I've been doing."

"Scarlett!" Pitty cried, outraged mostly because Scarlett was aware of her true intentions. "Are you insinuating that I've come by because of the gossip?"

"Yes," said Scarlett solidly. "And I don't appreciate being bothered to get dressed for no reason." Pitty stood, embarrassed and indignant, to her full height.

"You have some nerve, Scarlett Butler, speaking to me this way! Ooh! Just wait until your husband hears how you've treated me today!" Scarlett reared her head back as if she'd been slapped.

"My husband!" she cried, uncrossing her arms to clench her fists at her sides. "My husband wishes I were dead!" For a long moment the two women stared at each other, Scarlett trembling with rage and Pitty trembling with fright.

"Get out of my house, Pittypat Hamilton, and don't come back." Scarlett's angry glare propelled Pitty out of the expansive house. The heavy wooden door was slammed the moment her tiny feet hit the pavement of the walkway. Pitty's hand shook as she searched the folds of her skirts for her smelling salts.

"Take me to the post office, Uncle Peter," sniffed Pitty when she arrived at the carriage. "I've got to write Captain Butler."

--

Ashley found her in the garden, crouched in front of the rose bushes. She stood when she heard his footsteps and looked at him with haunted, piercing eyes. He noted how pretty she looked, dressed in men's clothes and was immediately ashamed at the thought. Rhett Butler's pants were rolled up to fit her and her bare white feet poked out from under the heavy cotton. The pants were belted high on her waist and the white dress-shirt, streaked with dirt, was tucked gracelessly in the high-waist slacks.

"Ashley," she said distractedly, wiping her dirty hands on her shirt and pushing her hair away from her sweaty forehead. "I was just thinking about you."

"Darling," said Ashley, taking her hand. "Have you slept at all lately?" She looked at him as if he were the crazy one and pulled her hand from his grasp.

"I haven't had time to sleep, Ashley! I've been busy picking out the flowers for Melly's grave!"

"Oh, Scarlett," sighed Ashley. "That's nothing to spend your time worrying about. "

"What do you think," Scarlett mused, appearing not to have heard him, "Are roses too overdone? The pansies are beautiful this season." She turned and shaded her eyes, looking out into the rest of the garden.

"Melly will love any flower you choose," said Ashley softly. Then he repeated, "You mustn't worry about silly things like flowers."

"You don't understand, Ashley," she cried, turning on him. "I've got to worry about these stupid flowers! If I don't, then I'll think about everything else!" Without warning she began to sob. Startled, Ashley reached for her, and she allowed him to hold her as she cried. She stifled incoherent words into his shoulder, words about Rhett and Bonnie and Melly.

"Go ahead and worry about the flowers, Scarlett," he murmured into her hair. "Go right ahead."

I'm looking for someone to help me creatively with a story chapter I am working on. If you know my writing style and enjoy my stories, I'd love for your help!

For more information on the continuation and inspiration for this story, as well as my other stories, please visit my profile page.