A/N: So much for my promise of a "fast" update, right?
Although by now, you should know better than to believe anything I say about updates.
Thank you to everyone who has taken time to review this story, I try to answer to them all, but sometimes I say to myself, "I'll answer it later", and then I completely forget about them.
So here's the next chapter, hope you like it and that it was worth the wait. If you don't remember what happened in chapter 6, there's a bit that won't make sense to you.
I am not going to make any promises concerning the next update, because I go back to University on Monday, and work comes before play.
So the next chapter will come when it does, hopefully not too long though.
And before I leave, I'm planning on organising a drabble-a-thon at my GwtW-LJ community, so if you are interested … (the link is on my profile).
Wakes are always sad affairs, but Ashley Wilkes' was one of saddest Atlanta had witnessed in years.
The little house on Ivy Street was so filled with people that the atmosphere quickly became stuffy and unbearable, it was as if everyone who had ever laid eyes on him had shown up to pay their respects.
They all had come to say farewell to a dear old friend, someone who had meant something to them, weather it was through kinship, friendship, admiration or respect.
Most men saw Ashley Wilkes as the incarnation of the man they should aspire to be, the ladies thought of him as the ideal husband, and he appeared to parents as the perfect son in law.
Fellow soldiers he had been kind to during the war had turned up to express their condolences to Melanie Wilkes and to tell her how very brave and generous her husband had been, and that his death was a tragic loss to mankind.
Northerners settled in Atlanta since the end of the war came by to express their sympathy for Ashley and Melanie Wilkes, for they had never been outspokenly rude to them as so many other Southerners had been. They stood uncomfortably as the Old Guard marched in together at the same time like an army, Ashley Wilkes was one of their own, and they made damn sure everyone knew it.
Once they had scarred off the "Yankees", they stood in line and each of them, one after the other, offered, in a shaky voice and with tears in their eyes, kind words of consolation to Miss Melly for her great loss.
Honey Wilkes, who had travelled from Macon with her husband, was huddled, in a corner, next to her sister, India, tears streaming out of her eyes. India, who had been forced into adulthood early, after her mother's death, was putting on a brave face, trying to console her younger sister, but it was obvious to everyone that she had been crying and not just a little, her eyes were red and swollen and it looked as if she hadn't slept in days.
Lost in all this turmoil was little Beau Wilkes. He was not yet seven and understood without fully understanding the death of his father. He felt lost.
That's why he went to sit next to his cousin Wade. His mother had told him long ago that his uncle Charlie, Wade's father, had died during the war, so he knew Wade would have answers to his questions.
The older boy told the other that he didn't remember his own father since he died before he had been born, but that he still felt that something was missing in his life, sure he had Uncle Rhett, but Rhett Butler wasn't his father, and that made all the difference.
He told Beau that he remembered Uncle Frank's death a lot better. He told his cousin that he was right to be sad, but that men don't cry, especially not brave ones, he had read that in books, but since they were still children, they were allowed to cry sometimes, and then he put his arm around Beau Wilkes' shoulder while the little boy sobbed.
Many tears were shed that day in the little living room on Ivy Street, and those who weren't openly crying had at least watery eyes, well almost everyone.
Only two people seemed to have complete control over their emotions or to be immune to the tragedy of Ashley Wilkes' murder: Rhett and Scarlett Butler.
Rhett's lack of anguish concerning Ashley's death didn't really come as a surprise to the Old Guard. First of all, Captain Butler had never really seen eye to eye with the deceased, and secondly his wife had spent most of her life chasing the man.
But the absence of tears in Scarlett Butler's eyes did come as a bit of a shock to everyone, she had thrown herself at Ashley Wilkes for years, and the only reason she wasn't an outcast in the Atlanta society was because Melanie Wilkes had protected her, she could at least have the decency to have bloodshot eyes, thought every single old cat in the attendance.
That being said, if Scarlett had displayed too much emotion, if she had been double in two from the agony of Ashley's demise, the Old Guard would have been appalled, and would have been quick to conclude that she was grieving her lost lover.
Scarlett Butler could never do anything right in their eyes.
"You could at least pretend you're sorry he's dead," Scarlett hissed into Rhett's ear.
"You should be happy I didn't bring champagne with me to celebrate," he whispered back before adding, "… but out of respect for Mrs Wilkes."
"That's why I said pretend! People might think you did it!" she said just loud enough for him to hear it.
"Are you about to confess something, my pet? Is there any particular reason why I should have wanted to kill the 'honourable' Ashley Wilkes?"
She glared at him and then turned to move away, but he caught her arm and pulled her close to him, "Look at the pot calling the kettle black. I don't see you crying your eyes out as if the world had ended. I would have thought the loss of the love of your life would at least move you enough to bring tears to your eyes. Why, you were more upset about Frank's death! Perhaps your heart has for once and for all completely frozen over and turned into stone, and now you are unable of feeling any emotion whatsoever."
She was fully determined on not taking the bait he had just laid down in front of her, expecting her to jump down his throat. Instead she shrugged out of his grasp and sighed and turned away to the nearest window, she gazed outside; allowing her mind to drift back to the morning when she had found out Ashley was dead.
She was hiding in her room, hiding from Rhett.
Deep down part of her wanted him to come looking for her, and find her, part of her wanted him to confront her about the what had happened the night before, the kiss, the way she had returned the kiss at first.
She could still remember the warmth of his hand through the fabric of her robe as his arms had snaked around her during their embrace. The mere memory of it sent a tingling sensation of longing down her spine and gave her Goosebumps.
She shouldn't be having such thoughts, it wasn't proper, she didn't even love Rhett, she repeated in her head over and over again.
She started pacing up and down the room, restlessly, unable to focus on anything else.
He was such a mystery to her.
One minute she felt as if he had no secrets for her, that she knew him perfectly and the next he would do something absolutely unpredictable such as kissing her.
Every time she was absolutely sure that her husband despised her and couldn't even bare to lay his eyes on her, she would catch him off guard, gazing at her longingly with anything but hatred and disdain in his eyes.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, she immediately stopped walking, she had recognised the knock, she knew it was him.
She cleared her throat slightly and told him to come in.
He moved swiftly across the floor, not acknowledging the events of the previous night, which didn't surprise Scarlett, but disturbed her all the same.
"Scarlett," he began and she knew from his tone that he wasn't here to deliver good news, maybe he was going to try and divorce her again, claim the baby wasn't his, she wasn't deaf or stupid, she had overheard what the old cats were saying about her all around town. She was certainly not prepared for his next statement, "Ashley Wilkes is dead."
"Ashley? Dead? Do you honestly think I'm going to believe you? Is this some bizarre ploy that you came up with in your twisted mind to torment me? Make me confess something I didn't do? How many times will I have to repeat myself, nothing happened between Ashley and I at the mills," she babbled incredulously, not fully understanding her own mumblings. She didn't believe him. She couldn't believe him. Ashley couldn't be dead.
"I can assure you my dear, I am not toying with your mind, Ashley Wilkes was murdered last night," he said flatly.
"Murdered?" Scarlett could barely manage to whisper it. She felt her whole body go numb, questions darted in and out of her brain: why was he murdered? Where? By who? Who could possibly want to kill Ashley Wilkes?
"I came in here to tell you that Mrs Wilkes requested your presence by her side …" he added.
"Yes, of course Melly," she interrupted him. "I'll be right down. Make sure the carriage is ready."
Once he had left the room, Scarlett mechanically put the strands of her hair that had fallen down back in place as she gathered her thoughts "Melly … I must go to Melly. I promised Ashley all those years ago that I would take care of her. I can't fail my word."
It was only when she came face to face with Melanie that Scarlett fully realised the tragedy of the events that had just occurred.
Melanie was as white as a sheet, her eyes were empty and tearless as she clutched an inconsolable little Beau close to her. On Scarlett's signal, Dilcey carefully picked the child out of his mother's arms, and carried him into another room, a hiccoughing Aunt Pitty-Pat at her heels.
Melanie slowly rose from her seat.
She looked dreadful, perhaps even worse than the night they had fled Atlanta after she had given birth to her son, but Scarlett supposed that the impression was due to the fact that Melly had barely been conscious that night, whereas now she was standing in front of her, physically and emotionally drained by the death of her husband.
She warily walked the short distance that separated her from Scarlett and stood in front of her totally helpless.
All Scarlett could do was stare back into her brown eyes, which had nearly turned black from the tears she was holding back.
Scarlett felt lost, out of control. She was witnessing a woman's realisation that her life would never be the same again, that she would never see the person she had loved the most in the world ever again, the loss of a soul mate, a pain so sharp that it would never entirely disappear, a wound so deep that it would never completely heal, the same grief that had plagued her father and deprived him of his sanity after her mother's death.
But what paralysed her thoughts and ability to move was this question: why didn't she feel the same pain as Melanie?
Ashley was the love of her life, or so she had claimed for almost half her life, she loved him unconditionally, didn't she?
Shouldn't she feel that her life had lost all meaning? Shouldn't she be so oppressed by sadness that she should have trouble breathing?
Yes, she was sad. She wasn't as heartless and cold as Rhett and the Old Guard made her out to be, but she wasn't devastated either.
Ashley's death was tragic, and she was shaken by the loss of a dear friend, a person she had know all her life, someone who remembered the times when she was young, carefree and happy, somebody who remembered her before the war, who had known and appreciated her parents, a link to her past.
His death felt like the final words to a chapter of her life, she was sad, but a new page had been turned and words were already being written on it, the world, at least hers, wasn't over.
Then all of a sudden everything seemed clear. She did not love Ashley Wilkes, at least not the way Melanie loved him.
This new found knowledge made her feel empty.
If she didn't love Ashley, then her life and her actions didn't make sense anymore. A lump of anger and bitterness over her own foolishness formed in the pit of her stomach, she felt foolish. How much time had she lost daydreaming about something that didn't even really exist?
She couldn't think about it now, if she did she would go crazy, she would think about it later, tomorrow maybe, right now she had better things to do. Melanie was still standing in front of her, looking like she was ready for death to come and take her away too.
Scarlett wasn't having any of that. She couldn't afford to lose Melanie, not now; Melly was the only person who had ever been truly and entirely good and kind to her, no matter what she did. Melanie had never judged her like all the others, she had loved Scarlett just the way she was, her flaws and all.
It was as if all the pieces of a giant jigsaw were assembling in Scarlett's mind, she was finally realising the true value of Melanie, her friend, the woman she had shared so much and been through so much with, marriage, mourning, a war, childbirth, poverty, and death, why the woman had even been her accomplice in the murder of that Yankee all those years ago.
Scarlett could see that Melanie was trying her best to be strong, but in a dashingly uncharacteristic moment of empathy, Scarlett seized Melanie by the shoulders and said to her, "You can cry, Melly. It's only me here; you don't have to be strong."
"Oh, Scarlett, I don't know what I do without you, it's so horrible, you can't even imagine," she gasped. "How insensitive of me, of course you know how I feel; you went through it with Charlie and poor Frank."
"Don't be so silly, Melly. In times like these, you are allowed to think about yourself and only yourself. I'll take care of everything else.
"You are so good to me, Scarlett," was all the poor woman could manage before she collapsed inconsolably into Scarlett's arms.
She wept until she had no more tears left in her body, then she slowly sipped a cup of tea, not caring that the liquid had gone cold long ago.
She would go silent for a while, and just when Scarlett thought the worse was behind them, Melanie would start weeping again and the cycle would start over.
Scarlett stayed until after nightfall, when Rhett sent a carriage for her to come home. She made sure Melanie was in bed before she left and promised to come back first thing in the morning.
When she finally walked through the front door of her home that night, she felt exhausted. The day finally took its toll on her, she couldn't remember the last time she had felt so physically and emotionally shattered.
She leaned heavily against the door she had just closed behind her. She sighed. Today she had lost a friend, a childhood companion, a part of her past, but she had also realised the importance of another person in her life, Melanie Hamilton Wilkes, her friend.
"Miss Scarlett, I'm having Cookie warm up your supper this very instant, it'll be ready anytime soon," Mammy familiar voice broke the obscure silence of the hall.
"Thank you Mammy," she said, resting her hand on the old woman's shoulder. "I have to see the children first, I must tell them about Ashley."
She slowly climbed up the stairs under the proud eyes of Mammy, who felt like her lamb was finally growing up, and the curious gaze of Rhett who had been lingering in the shadows of a dark corner.
TBC …