War-gerbil777: I was back and forth on where I wanted the three of them to end up, but I always intended on Rhett caring for the children. Rhett is finally coming to realize the havoc he caused on the family. This chapter is a doozy for him. Enjoy the new content!
Polinka22malinka: A new chapter and an Americano in the park sounds like my dream morning! I love hearing that you're able to do that. Wade is at a very difficult age and he's raging- which, I think is very fair all things considered. I wanted to capture several aspects of how Scarlett and Rhett's relationship affected those around them. Ella is a darling and will be the glue that tries to hold them together. I'm not sure how well she will succeed. I hope you enjoy!
Newreader2022: I agree, Wade is very justified in his anger. Rhett is going to have a huge awakening coming and he's absolutely not ready for it. Ella is struggling in her own way. It was really important for me that the children, so often ignored, get a voice in my story. They're going to have a time, though.
Guest 1: Thank you! I'm so glad you're enjoying it. I look forward to hearing your thoughts.
Lescarlett: Thank you so much for your kind words! We'll be hearing more from Wade and Ella soon.
Mindy Sack Britton: Hello! Thank you for reviewing! I can't tell you how much your compliment meant to me. I try very hard to put the reader into the scene. I look forward to hearing your thoughts.
TruckeeGal: Yes! Rhett is manning up and getting himself sober enough to figure his stuff out! Wade will choose Ella always. It has only ever been the two of them and he feels a strong sense of protection over her. He hates going with Rhett though, so we'll see how that goes.
Guest 2: I think Ella will keep Rhett grounded and he will absolutely treat her well. It sure won't be Wade. Thanks for the compliment and I hope you enjoy!
Aethelfraed: I originally thought maybe the children would stay at Tara too, but the more I created the story, the more I saw all three of them together. I think all three need each other to begin processing some of the healing. They need a father and he has an unfillable void left by two deceased children. I was the same. I read GWTW when I was very young and didn't fully have the perspective. As an adult, I do. I hope you enjoy and have a great week!
Guest 3: You're in luck! You get a chapter on schedule! Enjoy!
This community means the world to me- speaking with all of you makes me so excited for the new week. Thank you for all your comments, favorites, reviews, follows, everything! Please bear with me for the next few weeks. I'm moving and may be a little delayed.
Chapter Fourteen
Rhett was under no pretenses when he decided to take the children back to Atlanta. There were too many ghosts in that town and devils dressed in corsets. They hid behind intricate fans and flapped air onto a spark of gossip, waiting for it to erupt in flames. He knew it was only a matter of time before his business was that of the whole town.
Once he had composed himself enough after receiving the shocking news of Scarlett's disappearance, Eleanor had helped him settle his affairs in Charleston. She had boarded up her home and scheduled their train fares. Without his asking, his mother had booked herself passage to Atlanta while he went immediately to Jonesboro for Wade and Ella. Eleanor refused to hear his protests for her to stay home. He did not want to uproot her life more than he already had. She heard none of it, however, and set to ready the Peachtree Street home in anticipation of them.
He was eternally grateful that his mother had not listened to him.
Before his carriage made it to the outskirts of town, there were whispers of Rhett Butler's return. The keen eye of the genteel militia had witnessed the unexpected arrival of an unknown yet dignified woman at the Butler residence. She was an enigma- silent and stoic- and upon her coming the residence was in a flurry of commotion. The woman had sent for food, had all the windows opened, and sent for new clothes and gifts for an adolescent boy and young girl.
She was pale with gray hair neatly pulled back into a chignon at the base of her neck. Her poise was an indicator of her status, but anyone who happened to catch a glance of her knew there was no question of her lineage- that she must be Rhett Butler's mother. Her dark eyes were his- perceptive and gleaming. The sight of her began the town-wide rumors that the cad of South Carolina was back.
Eleanor stood now at the entryway of the Peachtree Street home as Rhett's carriage rolled to a stop. Rhett opened the door and stepped out before turning to assist a bleary-eyed Ella. She had fallen asleep, her head lazily lolling onto her brother's shoulder during their trip home. She blinked sleep from her eyes and took Rhett's outstretched hand. Once she was settled, Rhett offered his hand to Wade who poignantly disregarded it, exiting out of the opposite door.
Rhett was acutely aware that he was being watched behind closed doors and swaying curtains. He knew it was inevitable. Scarlett had been the only one to reside here for many months with the children in the county and him in Charleston. This was a silent home, haunted by spirits and many years of egregious mistakes. Even Scarlett had known that this house held nothing but pain and had convinced Rhett to initiate selling it. He had vowed to never return to the towering Georgian mansion or Atlanta ever again after the divorce was finalized. He told everyone in Charleston, he told Belle the last time he was in town, and he would have shouted it from every rooftop along the entire eastern seaboard. Yet here he was, his stomach lodged in his throat and his temples throbbing.
He greeted his mother, placing a welcoming kiss on her cheek. "Thank you," he murmured softly to her, "for being here."
She smiled softly and nodded, "Of course." She turned her attention to Ella who was gripping Rhett's hand tightly as she yawned, "Hello, Ms. Ella. I am not sure if you remember me. I met you at your sister, Bonnie's, funeral. I am your stepfather's mother, Eleanor. I am going to be staying with you for a while. I hope that's alright."
Ella blinked, her gray eyes focusing on her step-grandmother. Her eyebrows quirked up and her lips hitched sideways. "Hello, Miss Eleanor. Wade said that Mamma and Uncle Rhett aren't married anymore so he's not really my family. What should I call you?"
Eleanor spared a fleeting look at her son before turning her attention back to Ella, smiling tenderly, "You may call me whatever you'd like, sweet girl." It was then that Wade had caught up to his sister and guardian. "Hello, Wade." He did not respond. Instead, he continued walking, striding angrily into the house.
"Wade is very angry," Ella confirmed, craning her neck around Rhett's mother to watch her brother disappear through the front entrance. "He didn't want to come back to Atlanta; he doesn't like it here. There are too many people. He likes the farm and wants to live with our Uncle Will. He promised me we would stay together, though, so he had to come with me because I wanted to go with Uncle Rhett."
"I see," Eleanor responded, softly "Why don't you go inside and see how he is doing? Perhaps he would like some company. We can talk later. Would you like some tea and maybe some pie? I would love to sit with you and hear about your time at Tara"
Ella glanced up at Eleanor for a long moment, assessing the woman. They watched each other, appraisingly, before the girl nodded and said, "I don't have any grandmothers but I should like one." With that, she shook her hand out of Rhett's and trailed slowly behind her brother.
"What a sweet darling girl," Eleanor mused.
Rhett watched the young girl, forcing his face into a mask of cool resolve. It was only the strained sigh through his nose that betrayed the precarious sway of his mental state. "She has always taken after her father. A polite child- she used to go into fits of rage like her mother, but perhaps Tara smoothed those edges. I do not deserve the grace of that sweet child."
He reached up to his breast pocket when he had tucked the posy she had gifted him at Tara; an olive branch for a terrible father figure. It had touched him more than he realized to see her little fist, covered in sticky dandelion milk, extended to him. It reminded him so much of his Bonnie. While he treasured the kindness of that moment, he was simultaneously shamed by it. He wondered how often had he overlooked his stepdaughter for his own biological one. How often had she tried to offer peace before? His stomach flipped violently "She's too young to understand how miserable of a guardian she has."
"How old is she now, eight? She's young, but not that young. I think she realizes much more than you believe she does. Children are much more intelligent than anyone gives them credit for." Then Eleanor said, "Come."
He turned to face his mother; "Wade is not irritated with Ella- that specific detestation is very much reserved for me. He does not forgive me for leaving Scarlett or for not seeing or writing to them before now. I do not blame him- the animosity is justified."
Eleanor nodded, touching her hand to her son's elbow gently to signal that they should make their way inside. "I do not fault him either. The children are going through a traumatic year. Frankly, I am surprised that Ella is this gracious, that dear girl. Come, let's discuss more inside."
It was at that moment, however, that Rhett found himself rooted to the front steps, his stomach twisted in knots. Despite his slow unraveling upon hearing the news of his ex-wife's disappearance, he thought long and hard about what to do with Wade and Ella now that he was their temporary guardian. He had hoped to bring them back home with him to Charleston, but both his mother and Henry Hamilton had vehemently opposed the suggestion.
Wade and Ella needed stability. Since their sister had died their lives had been one disaster after another. Henry believed that while their respite at Tara was wholly beneficial to their psyches, they could not remain there long-term. Scarlett had established six months' worth of payments to her sister in order to provide for them while they stayed at their familial home. Four months of those payments had already been used. Of course, Wade and Ella could have remained at Tara, but when Scarlett returned home she would surely come to Peachtree Street first. Henry had frozen Scarlett's bank accounts in hopes that when she accessed her finances she would alert them of her whereabouts, but so far no information materialized.
It was Henry and his mother's opinion that the children needed to be in a familiar space surrounded by known people who could provide care and support while Scarlett was located. They needed a steady routine- school, home, and socializing. Eleanor, Henry, and Constable Owens believed that the most beneficial place for them would be Atlanta in this horrid, ostentatious excuse for a home. Rhett was in no position to argue at the time, but now as he stood before it he regretted allowing himself to be persuaded. He had not been back since Melanie's funeral and just being in its looming presence sent a wave of indignity through him.
"There are few things I detest more than this house," Rhett said softly, his voice hollow and low. "I have always despised this ghastly thing, but it was what Scarlett wanted. I built it for her when I was still desperate to please her. With everything that transpired here… there is no joy." Then quieter, in nothing more than a whisper caught between conscious and subconscious, "I'm afraid it may swallow me whole."
Eleanor stayed silent for a moment, her hand still cupping her son's elbow. His dark eyes had gone blank, light blinking out of them as he spoke shrouded in a daze. He was a study in dissociation. She knew how much turmoil he was in and yet his face betrayed him. Since the moment Rhett had appeared from the study after the news, he had worked tirelessly to present a persona devoid utterly of emotion. Eleanor suspected it was shocking; Rhett neither had the time nor the luxury to outwardly rage or panic with two young children on the eve of his shambolic divorce. He barely had a moment to register the events before he was forced to take action.
"That may be true, but the children need you and this is their home. Come, son. We cannot stand out here forever." Rhett turned his eyes to her and blinked before nodding curtly. He allowed himself to be guided inside.
"I know how difficult this is," Eleanor continued this time softly, "but remember I am here for you just as you are here for Wade and Ella. You did not allow yourself to mourn your marriage from inside the bottle and now you are feeling the weight of everything all at once. You do not have to be all right, just be present. There is much uncertainty now, but be hopeful. You said yourself that Scarlett was a spirited woman…"
Rhett nodded a second time, cutting his mother off. "Spirited she very well is. A very kind way to phrase it." His stony face wavered for a brief second before settling back into place. They stood in the large foyer, red velvet surrounding them, choking them until Rhett felt as if he could taste the fabric between his teeth. Feel the plush splinter on the edge of his tongue. Eleanor watched him closely; watched as he took a sharp breath and held it in his breast.
"I had the house cleaned and straightened for your arrival. We did our best but…" Eleanor trailed off, unsure of how to continue.
"Yes?"
Eleanor clicked her tongue absentmindedly as she searched for the most delicate response, "Please know that there is no ease to what I am about to disclose and it burdens me that I must. The staff has confided that Scarlett had been very withdrawn for some time before she came to visit us. She entertained only Mr. Hamilton a handful of times. Despite her reclusiveness, she had the communal living spaces tidied daily, but her bedroom, Bonnie's, or the one at the far end of the home remained untouched. The latter two were empty so I hope you do not mind that I took the liberty of having them cleaned, but Scarlett's room…" Eleanor took a breath, shaking her head. "I can't sugar coat it, Rhett. It is rather shocking. I thought you or the constable might want to sort through her belongings to see if there was anything useful."
"Sort through her belongings? You speak of her as if she were already dead." Rhett said, a low panic lacing the edges of his tenor despite his best efforts to mask it.
Eleanor colored, shaking her head softly, "That was not my intention. She was always so very headstrong. You know I believe she is alive."
"Do I?" Rhett asked. "Do you truly believe that Scarlett is fine? You have spoken in nothing but past tense when concerning her. In wases and had beens. You, and it appears Henry, both seem to believe that some ill fate has befallen her but the fact of the matter is, mother, that I myself am not so sure. Everyone is overlooking her base nature. It is more than likely that Scarlett has run off to get my attention. She has never been known for her subtlety and this is exactly the type of behavior I would expect of her." Even as the words tumbled from his mouth he regretted them.
Eleanor kept her hand clasped to his elbow, her fingers tightening around him. She understood her son's desire to lash out. It was in his nature to wound those around him in order to absolve himself of blame. He had been this way since he was a boy. He had been this way since his father taught him to be so. She turned to him slowly, her eyes burning with something akin to pity and fury.
"I'm going to overlook those words and justify your temporary lack of grace with the fact that you've had an exceptionally hard year. Don't be vile before we know the truth. Vilifying Scarlett right now is both counterproductive and harmful. Do I hope you are correct? Of course, I do. I would not wish harm on anyone least of all my daughter-in-law. I would much rather her have taken to fancy than the alternative but I think before you go passing any judgment you need to inspect her room."
She tightened her grip hard around his arm and continued, "You, darling, are no saint yourself. I understand that you are hurting and I know that under this animosity is fear. I feel it; we all feel it. Do not let your proclivity to deflect be the reason that you ruin your relationship with the children and place blame unnecessarily."
An icy hand gripped Rhett's chest, causing his breath to catch in his throat. He was furious, yes, but if he was being honest with himself he knew that his rage did indeed stem from his terror. He was not blind to how frail and meek the Scarlett that met him four weeks ago had been. Rhett had never seen her so lost, so seemingly broken. The blue-black bruises under her eyes and the angle of her bones had unnerved him long after he had watched her leave. He was petrified that he was wrong and that she had not run away. It was easier to be angry with her than to face the reality that he very well could have caused irrevocable harm to his ex-wife.
Choosing to ignore his mother's comment he offered, "I could use a whiskey, couldn't you?"
"I should think that you might want to settle in." When he said nothing Eleanor sighed, "There is no whiskey. No brandy either for that matter."
"You think to sober me at a time most appropriate to drink?" He tried to force a chuckle, but the sound that bubbled from him sounded like a drowned scream. An emotion flared within him- that same combination of panic and wrath. He had spent nearly half a year in a state of constant inebriation- a state of slow-simmering rage. It was all he had to dull the ever-present ache in his chest. He had lost everything within the span of a year: his daughter, his unborn child, and his wife. He could not deal with the emotional repercussions of those losses without substance. He could not feel all of that at once. Or more reasonably, he was terrified of what it might feel like if he were to be forced to.
"It was not my doing. You can see for yourself if you do not believe me. It was mentioned to me that Scarlett had taken to the bottle. It was not until the doctor intervened with medication and Henry forced his visits that she stopped keeping it in the home."
Rhett turned to her, "What do you mean the doctor intervened?"
"As I was saying before," Eleanor continued calmly, running her hand gently over his arm. "You had best go and see for yourself. I don't want to alarm you, but the way she was living was rather unsettling."
"You're doing an exceptional job at not alarming me. Please do not spare any feelings on my account."
"Really, Rhett, this is no time for flippancy. This is serious."
He stopped then, mid-stride and halfway up the stairs before he turned to his mother. His voice when he finally answered was so raw that Eleanor was startled, "What makes you believe that I am not taking this seriously? Mother, I am acutely aware that on the eve of my contentious divorce, my ex-wife went missing. I know that while I am currently entrusted with her children and not a subject of interest, there is a distinct possibility that I will continue to be questioned. Even if I am found innocent in the eyes of the law, there will always be the thought tucked in the back of everyone's minds that I had something to do with it. I might not have made her disappear, but I might as well have. I did this to my wife. I pushed and pushed and pushed until we broke and now she's missing. I have to shield the children from whatever hateful things this town may say but I must endure it. I do not get the luxury of fear. I am not even allowed the grace of public grief because, to everyone, this is my doing and mine alone. Even you know this to be true, do not deny it."
"I do not deny it," Eleanor swallowed, "and I worry for you."
"Spare me your pity, mother. Pray that Scarlett is found. She would not…" Rhett trailed off. She would not have ended her life, is what he had meant to say-what he wanted to say- but he could not bring himself to utter the words. Not after the way her emerald eyes haunted him with every breath. Not after the way she released him from their marriage with sallow eyes, a chaste kiss, and a pat on the hand.
"I know," Eleanor could sense his unease, could feel it in the involuntary tensing of his muscles. "I will come with you, then, to her room."
Rhett said nothing but allowed himself to be led to Scarlett's bedroom. They had shared this room for many years before he was banished from their marriage bed. He had taken her against her will in this room, held her while she battled nightmares, and stayed up to admire her while she slept. He had loved her both in and outside of that room but what had been left there had been uniquely theirs- the good and the awful. A snag of memory caught between his palms and he jolted. Part of him loved her still, but the majority of him wished beyond anything that he could light a match and watch it burn.
The creak of the door as his mother opened it sounded louder than any gun he had ever heard. Eleanor shuffled him wordlessly into the curtain-drawn bed chamber. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness of the room. All the drapes had been pulled together, blocking all the exterior light save for an illuminated sliver around the bottom and sides where the last dregs of daylight leaked around the thick velvet. Eleanor strode to the nearest window and gently tied the drapery back to offer some additional light.
As his eyes adjusted Rhett felt the urge to be sick.
The four-poster bed in the center of the room had been made, but it stood as a lone beacon against the detritus that littered the room. Clothes had been draped haphazardly over her vanity chair and settee by the window. Scarlett's silk nightdresses were interspersed with some of the linen shirts he had left behind. Every surface of the room was covered in correspondence- either her own half-started letters or those received from family. Most letters began in fits and spurts – bits of phrases and unfinished thoughts danced around the room, taunting him.
Rhett swallowed hard, picking up a stack of letters off her bedside table. Some were the beginnings of a letter to her Aunts in Charleston, but most were unsent letters to him. She outlined her days, occasionally mentioning her apprehension that she was relying too heavily on laudanum for sleep. She described the weightlessness of the feeling, the way it cut her grief and allowed her a few moments of peace. She wrote of their children- Bonnie and the unborn child lost before it had its first breath. She prayed for his return home but would not ask it of him in fear of alienating him further.
He sat shakily on the bed, his knees giving out. He clung to the letters in his fists and he buried his face in them. "Have you read these?"
Eleanor nodded slowly, "A few, yes, but it seemed too intimate for me to continue. They vacillate between daily accounts and what seems like diary entries for you. I thought it best you collect them and bring them to Mr. Owens. There may be something in them that will help us."
Rhett nodded, a throbbing numbness settling over him, "Leave me, please."
"You can settle in," Eleanor said, gingerly crossing the room and reaching for her son's hand. "You don't have to do this all today."
He didn't respond- he couldn't. Instead, he read. He read responses from Eulalie and Pauline Robillard, Suellen, and her penned consciousness to him. He read what he could tell were words laced with laudanum and what were the brief, transient thoughts of the barely sober. When he couldn't bring himself to read another, he glanced at her bedside table topped with three vials and a photograph he had taken of them on their honeymoon in New Orleans.
Rhett did not need to read the bottles to know what they were. He picked up the photo- he had been so happy then to have her as his wife. She even seemed pleased herself. He would have done anything for her in those early days. Rhett closed his eyes trying to shake away the memories of their honeymoon. "No," he said softly to the empty room, "no." Rhett opened the bedside drawer to tuck the photograph inside before he stopped, mortified.
Inside the bedside drawer were vials upon empty vials of laudanum and whiskey.
When he whispered, "No," a third time, it was full of anguish and followed by a loud curse. He set the photo down on the bed, shaking. Wild, Rhett thumbed through the vessels praying that not all of them were empty. His prayers were unanswered as he threw open the second drawer and found more letters and more vials. He knew then that he was going to be sick.
"My God, Scarlett," he groaned, "what have you done?" The room started to sway and the floor and ceiling seemed to collapse in on themselves. He wasn't sure he could breathe.
He had seen and done some wicked things in his lifetime but this room felt the most wicked of all. He stood on unsteady legs, the room undulating around him. Rhett was overwhelmed and the tightness in his chest that had been constricting for days finally clamped down fully. He gasped for a breath and a ragged sound escaped him.
He stumbled from the bedroom slamming the door shut behind him. He leaned against the oak door, his hands trembling as he raked one of his palms down the length of his face. It was complicated, the emotional turmoil he swallowed minute by minute. Rhett had come to hate Scarlett for her frivolity and lack of compassion, but the hate was born out of an excess of love. He loved her too much to not be wounded by her actions. He had told her many times that he wanted her gone from his life, and while that was true, that did not mean he wanted her gone entirely. There was a huge distinction for him between beginning a new life without her in it and eradicating her from existence. He never wanted the latter and yet here he was confronted with the possibility that he had caused the vehemently resilient Scarlett to finally break.
The idea shook him to his very core.
Drink. He needed a drink. He pushed off the door just as his mother emerged from the downstairs withdrawing room, startled by the slam. "Rhett?" She called up the stairs.
He could barely hear her- could barely register any sound besides the deafening thrumming in his ears. His eyes burned, his chest stung, he couldn't breathe. He needed a drink. Eleanor called out to him a second time as he descended the stairs at a brisk pace, his eyes blank and hollow. She reached out to stop him, but Rhett tore through her grasp reaching for his hat.
Eleanor knew this look and knew her son, "Rhett Kinnicutt Butler, don't you dare! Think of what the town will say if you take so much as one step out of here right now. Think of the children! Think of Scarlett."
He was thinking of Scarlett that was the problem. The sound was muffled in his ears and he shook his head to be rid of it. Ignoring his mother's pleas he stepped onto the porch, disoriented and wild. The sun was setting casting a deep purple, yellow haze over the town. It might have been beautiful had it not reminded him of Scarlett's sunken eyes.
Thirty minutes later he found himself clutching a full decanter of whiskey in the back office of Belle Watling's establishment until his knuckles were white. The crystal vessel trembled in his hand. He attempted to raise it to his lips several times but kept pausing before he could bring himself to take a sip. Instead, he flicked his wrists rhythmically watching the whiskey throw unsteady golden shapes over the hollow of the vessel.
"My God, Rhett," Belle said softly, reaching for his empty hand.
Rhett turned to face her. Belle was one of his oldest friends from his childhood in Charleston. He often wondered what life might have been for them had he been a better man. A respectable man would have married her after ruining her, but he never considered himself respectable. Belle was so very dear to him; she was one of the last ties he had to his former life and she had a heart near as sweet as Melanie Hamilton. Yet, he could never bring himself to love her. It was one of his life's regrets. Occasionally over their many years of friendship, he thought that her presence might have initiated a flicker of something in him. Now, however, he examined her with a blank stare, his stomach in knots.
Belle stroked his hand with a wide sweep of her thumb. "I'm so sorry, darling."
"Sorry to hear of my divorce or my wife's mysterious disappearance?" He paused, turning back to the whiskey in his hand. "Ex-wife," he amended, a hollow echo to his voice.
"Both," Belle said carefully, stroking the back of his hand trying to calm him.
Rhett chuckled coolly, "You've always been a terrible liar. I've had enough dishonesty after this past week. It was only today that I truly learned the depths in which Scarlett sank. Her uncle and the constable have assured me that she could still be alive. My mother has been tiptoeing around past tense. After what I saw in that house…" He trailed off, his hands trembling. He faced the decanter again, staring into the eye of the neck. He wanted so badly to numb the ache- wanted desperately to erase the memory of their once-shared room, but he couldn't. The vials were seared into his memory and made him ill. "I'm terrified, Belle."
"I had heard that Scarlett was becoming a bit of a recluse, but no one in town paid it much heed." She failed to mention that Rhett was the subject of many a rumor. There was no need to add more burdens to his heavy load. He would learn soon enough.
Mesmerized by the whiskey in his fist, he said, "I wanted this, you know. That is the most distressing thing of it all. I wanted to hurt her as much as her emotional affair with the Wilkes boy wounded me. I don't believe she was ever unfaithful in a carnal sense, but I wish she had been. What enraged me the most was how ardently she loved him. I could have forgiven her for a sexual indiscretion, but to never have her heart?" He let out a shaky breath, "There were years before we were married that I watched her with other men and I knew then that I wanted her, yes, but what I desired most was her heart. Her body was secondary."
Belle kissed his knuckles, running her hand over his thigh. She hated to hear him speak of Scarlett. She was keenly aware of his affection for her. It was much of what their conversations had shifted to in the years since Scarlett's first husband, Charles, passed away. Belle had always hoped that Scarlett was another of Rhett's passing fancies, but as the years bled into one another, she noticed the sharpening of all of his emotions.
Prior to meeting Scarlett, Rhett was a nomadic rogue. He made a joke of life, never taking anything seriously. He wore his flippant nature as a badge of honor, trading laughs for spirits. While he never fully gave up his mischievousness, he exchanged his itinerant lifestyle for one closer to the fiery O'Hara. He felt more deeply, he craved her company, and he changed his reputation for the sake of their children. Though she would never admit it openly, it enraged Belle.
Belle had loved Rhett since they were children. Their families had been so close that she often believed that she and Rhett would have come to marry regardless. Life took them in vastly different directions, however. When she was caught with him in his carriage when they were teens, there had been nothing untoward between them. Rhett had seen her walking home from a mutual friend's and entreated her to allow him to drive her home. When she could not keep the blush from her face and stuttered her responses, Rhett knew what she had done.
Instead of treating her like a fallen woman, he attempted to smuggle her back home. Unfortunately, Charlestonian society, much like that of its counterpart in Atlanta, had wagging tongues and an even fiercer network of eyes. News of the two of them in a carriage together at night had made its way back to their parents before they had even gotten home. It was the nail in the coffin for Rhett, who had recently been expelled from West Point, and he was turned out that night. Belle was taken to a nunnery the next day.
She and Rhett lost contact for several years, but she never forgot him. After Belle gave birth to her son she ran. She needed the protection of the church for the sake of her child, but once he was born she knew he deserved a better life than that of a parentless monk. For that was the plan; bastard children were either sent to an orphanage or brought up in the church. She fled for New Orleans where she became a mistress. It was there that she encountered Rhett. He had watched over her and her child ever since. Whether it was a guilty conscious for not doing more to salvage her reputation or legitimate fondness, Belle didn't care. Affection was affection and she had been starved of it for too long.
Belle stayed silent, stroking Rhett's hand. He continued, "I never meant… Belle, I was ready to put this chapter of my life behind me. We were never compatible, Scarlett and I, but we had to ruin each other to prove it. You should have seen that house. She was so unwell and I refused to see it because I was so damned angry with her. I did this," he croaked, his voice cracking. "I wanted to divorce her, I didn't want her to…"
Rhett couldn't finish his sentence- refused. The word lodged in his throat and his eyes burned. "Go missing," Belle finished for him, nodding softly.
"Yes, missing." He was mortified to admit where his thoughts had really wandered. He wanted her out of his life, not out of existence. He turned his gaze back to the bottle in his hand, his stomach lurching. Whether it was a desire for drink or derision for himself he couldn't be sure. If he was being honest with himself, he was sure it was both. "They'll think I've killed her if she doesn't come home."
Belle nodded, knowing the wagging tongues and the sharp eyes of Atlanta all too well, "Yes, they might."
"I haven't," He said softly, his voice hitching. He was spiraling, the room spinning out of his vision. All of a sudden the thoughts of the bedroom and her sunken green eyes overwhelmed him and every emotion he had not been able to process assaulted him at once. "I might as well have."
A strangled sob escaped him. He pressed his wrist to his lips to silence himself, the decanter dangling precariously in his grasp. Belle took the bottle from his hands and collected him in her arms, rocking him softly. He slumped against her like a child, his shoulders shaking silently, his face buried in the crook of her neck. "Oh, my love. It breaks my heart to see you like this. Be strong. You know Scarlett better than any of us. She's a spitfire. She's out there, I'm sure of it."
"You should have seen her," Rhett moaned, his voice muffled against her skin. "I… What have I done?"
Belle pulled him from her body, taking his face in her hands and resting her forehead against his. She could feel his tears against the pads of her fingers. She hated Scarlett- most people did- but she loved Rhett and it broke her to see him in such a state. The last time he had visited, he had been so angry, so uncharacteristically stoic about his entire marriage that she took his word for his apathy in her desire for it to be so. She wished so desperately that he would forget her, but seeing him now, sobbing silently in her arms she knew that he was lost to her forever. She should have known years ago. She deluded herself.
"She's out there," Belle repeated, trying to soothe him. He shook his head, absentmindedly, not registering her words. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out thoughts of Scarlett but the darkness was worse. In the darkness, her jade green eyes danced between the phosphenes. He breathed slowly, in through his nose and out his mouth. There was chaos inside him: unlimited, unending chaos that had gone unchecked and smothered. He had tried for months to tame the chaos brewing inside him, but instead, he buried it so deep he didn't realize he was drowning in it. The well of anger in him, so deep, he didn't realize how he was hurting everyone.
He took a shuddering breath, eyes welded shut. He reached out and gripped Belle's shoulders, trying to tether himself back to reality. He had done this. The thought boomed through him, ringing his bones like a church bell. He had been so callous, so utterly cruel in his desire to hurt Scarlett that she went missing. Whether she was alive or dead, he couldn't say, but what was certain was that he ached. The thought of Scarlett no longer existing sent fear through his body so physical he thought he would vomit.
There were several facts that he could not ignore. One is that he loved his ex-wife. He loved her to madness and it was that madness that brought him to the edge of reason. The second was that he didn't remember a time when he wasn't mourning. Whether it was the lack of Scarlett's affection, the loss of their children, or finding solace in liquor, he was mourning. The combination of the two led him to destruction. He hated and adored his ex-wife and now she was gone by his hand. Another breath lodged in his throat.
Their last conversation turned over in his mind. He thought of her kiss, the ghost trace of her bow lips against his. He could almost feel them now: soft, tender, and full of longing. He gripped Belle's shoulders harder, begging himself into composure. It was then that he realized what he thought was the haunting of Scarlett's lips against his was Belle's.
"Why did you run to Belle so often? Did you love her?"
Scarlett's voice sounded in his head, shaking him to reality and snapping him to attention immediately. It was one of the last questions she had asked him during their last visit; one that he openly scoffed at in the moment. Now, however, he was mortified to find himself repeating the same pattern she had so recently confided hurt her. He wondered how long he had used Belle as an emotional crutch when his wife was unavailable. How long had it hurt Scarlett, their meetings? The pit in his stomach widened.
Rhett turned his head, releasing Belle's shoulders. "No," he said, raising his hands to create a barrier between them. He could not do this again. He would not continue in the same behavior that had so deeply wounded his marriage. He could not be the same person- he would not.
As Belle started, reaching for his hand, she begged, "I'm sorry, my darling. I didn't mean… I was only trying to help,"
Rhett pulled away, shaking his head, repeating again, "No, I…" He trailed off before he stood abruptly and made for the door. He did not hear Belle's frantic apologies. He did not comprehend the slam of the back door. He heard nothing but a ringing in his ears and saw nothing but Scarlett's green eyes.
He staggered forward, his feet propelling him on their own accord. He had ruined his life and made everyone pay the price. It was at that moment he made the conscious choice to fix it. He would care for Wade and Ella, he would find Scarlett, he would repent for every sin or he would kill himself trying.
It was several blocks before Rhett knew where his feet were taking him. He had never been a Godly man. In fact, he often viewed God with derision and the institution of it with even less grace. He had seen too many people abandoned by God in their time of need- himself included. However, that night, haunted by his past he snuck into the quiet church. He sunk down into the last pew, staring at the effigy of a God he wasn't sure he believed in and he prayed. He clutched his hands together, his knuckles turning purple as he allowed himself to finally weep in the silence of the empty room. He prayed for forgiveness. He prayed for strength. He prayed to any god that was willing to listen.