FF: Something in Return (NC17) (3/4)
Title: Something in Return
Author: Ellie (windblownellie@yahoo.com)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Rhett accepts Scarlett's proposition in the jail.
****
Chapter 13
****
Scarlett walked into her sitting room an hour later, dressed in
the lovely dove gray dress Rhett had given her, feeling
refreshed and relaxed. Somehow, she wasn't startled to find
Rhett sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the table next to
the breakfast tray, reading a letter.
She cleared her throat as she settled onto the opposite end of
the couch, and he swung his feet off the table with a smirk in
her direction. She smiled and reached for the plate of toast.
Before she could put butter and jam on a slice, Rhett had poured
her a cup of coffee.
"Enjoy your bath?"
"Mmm," she replied, nodding to convey her response around a
mouthful of toast.
"There's a telegram just arrived for you. They brought it up
with breakfast."
He returned to reading his own letter. She took a sip of coffee
before reaching for the telegram. She couldn't fathom who would
be sending one to her.
She opened the telegram with curiosity, then froze as the five
words it contained sunk in. The paper fluttered down from her
hand as she rose and ran back to her bedroom.
Rhett found her throwing pieces of clothing into her valise with
a manic fervor. She jumped when he took hold of her arm,
stilling her efforts.
"Scarlett, what's wrong?"
When she looked at him, she could feel the tears threatening to
spill over her eyes. With a deep breath, she answered, "Pa's
sick. I have to go back to Tara."
Rhett quickly pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.
He held her like delicate porcelain, a comfortably warm embrace,
but any tighter and she would have shattered her brave front
with a shower of tears. "Finish packing. I'll go down and make
sure there's a carriage waiting to take you to the train
station."
Without another word, he walked out of the room, leaving her
staring after him, mouth gaping. How did he always know just
what she needed at any given moment? He somehow managed to
comfort her while allowing her to cope with her worry in her own
way, supporting without any trace of control or condescension.
She threw a few more garments into the valise before heading for
the sitting room. Rhett was waiting for her there, his face
expressionless. She mustered a watery smile as she faced him
across the room.
"All set?"
With a wave at the battered valise, she asked, "I hope you don't
mind that I'm taking a few of the newer things you've given me
along."
"Not at all. In fact," he reached into an inner jacket pocket
and produced a wad of bills as he walked her to the door of the
suite. "Take this for whatever you might need, for you or your
father."
She took the bills, eyes wide with astonishment. The urge to
count it was almost irrepressible, but she managed to stuff them
in her bag quickly to count later. One hand on the doorknob,
she paused and turned to face him and gave him a fleeting kiss
on the cheek. "Thank you, Rhett. Truly."
For just a moment, his expression seemed to soften, and she
thought she could see some genuine feeling under the cynical
veneer he maintained. "You're welcome, Scarlett. Anything you
need." His face returned to the blank poker face he wore so
well before continuing, neutrally, "I hope to see you back in my
company shortly. I don't begrudge you going to your ill father,
but it doesn't excuse your debt to me."
"Understood," she snapped, hastening out the door and slamming
it behind her. She walked as swiftly as was ladylike down the
stairs and to the waiting carriage.
****
Chapter 14
****
Most of the ride to Tara was spent in contemplation. The
situation with Rhett had left her uncertain about her own
feelings, and she knew that whatever was wrong with Pa, she
would need her wits about her to deal with that situation. A
very small part of her that she studiously ignored wished Rhett
had come with her, to help her face this new unknown. Yet he
had seemed confident in her ability to handle the situation when
he sent her off with a kiss and a smirk. And fifty dollars, an
absolutely astonishing sum of money to have casually handed to
her!
Scarlett sighed as she disembarked the train at Jonesboro. Of
course there was no one waiting for her, and she reluctantly
parted with some of the money Rhett had given her to get to
Tara.
Arriving at the porch, she could see no one around. It was only
when she stepped inside that she was met by Mammy, who took her
valise and disappeared upstairs without a word. She stood in
the foyer for a few moments wondering what to do, until she
heard voices in the parlor. Quickly she crossed to the door and
slid it open to find Melanie sitting and reading to Wade and
Beau.
"Scarlett!" She looked up from the book in astonishment.
"Welcome home. Your sisters are upstairs with your father."
"Thank you, Melanie. Hello, Wade," she greeted her son, before
slipping back out the door. As she climbed the stairs, she
strained to hear any sounds, but was met only with silence. She
rapped once on her father's door before entering.
Suellen and Careen sat on either side of Pa's bed and barely
glanced up as she entered the room. Mammy stood off next to the
washbasin, and it was she who approached Scarlett. Scarlett
eyed her warily, wondering why she'd said nothing upon her
arrival moments ago.
"Your Pa was out ridin' dat Yankee hoss yesterday mornin' and
you know dat animal warn't none too graceful to start with.
Neither's your Pa been too well balanced lately. They jumped
the fence down by the ole cow field, and Miss Melly, she was out
on the porch with Wade an' Beau, and she said dat hoss slipped
landin' and your Pa gone tumbling off. Doc Fontaine been here
an' mended his broken leg, but he ain't been awake since it
happened," she lamented.
Scarlett looked at her father's pale from and the passive forms
of her sisters for a long moment before asking, "And does he
expect him to wake up?"
"He don't rightly know, Miss Scarlett. He said every day he
don't, less likely he will."
There was little more that Scarlett could do besides nod wearily
and join her sisters at the bedside. She brushed her hand
across her father's forehead to no response, though she noticed
that he felt fevered. After half an hour, she left her sisters
to care for him and went to her mother's office.
No notations had been made in the ledgers for Doctor Fontaine's
visit, or for any other expenses in her absence. She sighed and
made a note to ask Will about expenditures--he would be most
likely to know. It frustrated her to know that no one could be
bothered to do such simple things in the few days she'd been
gone. Surely someone should have better sense!
Abandoning the stuffy house she walked out the front door and
around the back of the house, toward the makeshift stabling for
the horses and cows. She was mildly surprised to find Ashley
there, bent over the horse that had belonged to the Yankee she'd
shot last year.
"Hello, Scarlett. I see you got the telegram." He stood and
faced her over the warped fencing.
"Yes." She couldn't explain why it suddenly felt that there was
a greater barrier than an old wood fence between them. "It
looks as if the horse fared better than Pa did."
"He's a bit lame, from the fall I suppose. You'll have to keep
an eye on him, but I think he'll be fine in a week or so."
"You seem to be doing well enough tending to him, Ashley. I'm
sure I'll do better to let you keep an eye on him." She tried
not to notice that he looked less handsome and certain here,
covered with hay and dust, than she'd ever seen him.
"I was going to write and tell you, but since you've had to come
home, I suppose it's best to tell you now. A friend of mine has
written and offered me a job at a bank in Baltimore. We'll be
leaving next week." He stared at the horse as he spoke, not
meeting her eyes.
He jaw dropped and for a second she panicked at the idea of
Ashley's departure. "But Ashley, don't you see, now more than
ever how wonderful it is that you're here with us?"
"What good have I been to you, Scarlett? I couldn't procure
your tax money, or prevent your father's injury in your absence.
Indeed, it seems that I've been unable to do anything here at
Tara that a common laborer couldn't do better, including tend
this horse."
"Oh, Ashley, you know that's not true! And how can you leave
now, when you refused to leave with me just months ago!" Her
knuckles were white and she could feel splinters pressing into
her skin as she gripped the fence.
"That's unfair, Scarlett. This is an opportunity for my family.
I can take care of Melanie and Beau--"
"But you don't love them!"
He only gazed at her plaintively, one hand on the horse's bony
shoulder, as if it could provide him some support he was
essentially lacking.
"You don't love them, do you?" Suddenly she was unsure of
everything around her, and the old fence was the only thing
keeping her upright.
"They're my family. Surely you understand that feeling, as much
as you've gone through for your own. Your passion and joie de
vivre will always have a special place in my heart, but I must
do what is best for them."
She wanted to scream that it was not love that had kept her tied
to Tara but obligation, obligations that were older and more
important than whatever she might have wanted for herself. In
that instant, she realized that Ashley's love was more
obligation than personal passion, and she released the fence and
stepped back. "Good luck in Baltimore, Ashley," she said
coolly, and strode off, farther away from the house, into the
fields that had once been full of cotton and were now being
reclaimed by the low brush that marked the first return of
wilderness to abandoned land.
Twilight was deepening the sky to indigo when she returned to
the house and settled on the edge of the porch. Stars were just
beginning to appear, and she rested her head against one of the
columns and stared up at them, ignoring the whitewash peeling
off against her temple. In the past twenty-four hours it seemed
that everything she'd believed in had been turned on its head,
and she found it reassuring that the stars still twinkled in the
night sky. She had enjoyed a night of unwed passion with Rhett,
who'd treated her so tenderly, both then and when she'd fled in
the face of this morning's telegram. Her father, the last tie
to her old life here, could possibly die. And rather than
staying and helping when the last thing keeping her old life
together was fading, Ashley was leaving her to fend for herself,
too frightened of whatever he might feel to admit anything more
than an obligatory sort of love for Melanie and Beau.
As she looked out across the weedy expanse that had once been
the gloriously manicured front lawn of Tara, she realized that
she was tired of an obligatory sort of polite love. She was
tired of sublimating what she felt she needed to do to coincide
with what everyone else expected of her. She made a silent vow
that she would begin rebuilding her life starting on the one
passion she was certain of--her love of Tara.
She was on the verge of leaping up from the porch and ripping
weeds up from the grass when warm hands settled a scratchy shawl
about her shoulders.
"I don't want you to be catchin' cold in this damp spring air,
Miss Scarlett. Why don't you come in and check on your Pa.
Dinner'll be ready in just a bit." Mammy rested her hand on top
of the shawl with a firm touch before returning to the house.
After a moment, Scarlett rose and followed her back inside,
heading for the stairs. As she closed the door, she realized
she'd eaten nothing all day except the bit of toast this morning
before reading the telegram, and realized even the modest dinner
that she could expect here would be very welcome.
****
Chapter 15
****
The next morning, Pa seemed to be doing even worse. To her
touch, he seemed even more fevered than the night before.
Scarlett urged Pork to fetch Doctor Fontaine to examine him
again, and stood watching from the foot of the bed as he did so.
Her sisters stood quietly to one side, and Doctor Fontaine
didn't address them at all as he poked and prodded their father.
It was Scarlett's eyes he met as he straightened and tucked his
instruments back in their tattered black bag, flicking his gaze
briefly to the door before speaking to her sisters.
"You girls are doing an excellent job caring for your father.
Keep up the good work and keep him comfortable." With that he
snapped his bag shut and headed for the door, Scarlett silently
following.
When she closed the door behind them, Scarlett was all business.
"What do you really think of his condition?"
"I meant what I said about keeping him comfortable," he replied,
meeting her tone with a serious tone of his own. "That's really
all you can do, I'm afraid. His fever's worse, and together
with the fact that he's been unconscious these last few days, it
does not bode well at all. I'd frankly be surprised if he's
still with us tomorrow. Then again, your father always was
bound and determined to prove people wrong, and head injuries
are notoriously difficult to make predictions about."
"Thank you for your help, and for being truthful with me," said
Scarlett, leading him down the stairs. "What do I owe you?"
He waved his hand then swung open the front door. "Don't worry
about that now. Pork brought us a pair of nice chickens when he
came to fetch me, consider yourselves paid up."
She nodded and saw him out before retreating to the office and
its ledger. Balancing the figures she'd filled in with the
numbers Will had given her provided a brief distraction.
Looking at the totals, she wondered how to start to not simply
repair but rebuild with the little money she had available. A
loose sheet in the back of the ledger ripped out easily, and she
began making a list of projects that would need to be
accomplished, from whitewashing the house to tending the lawns,
and made a few rough calculations on the potential cotton crop.
She thought wearily of the amount of work involved and sighed.
As she tapped the pen on the desk, she realized she ought to
write Rhett. But what to tell him? There was no way she could
return to Atlanta any time soon, not until something was
resolved with Pa; if he died, she would truly become responsible
for running things, not just doing things in her father's name.
She stared at the blank page for a long moment before all the
details of the situation spilled out of her pen to him, flowing
so quickly that the ink smudged in a few places. Doing her best
to make it clear that she wasn't shirking her debt to him, but
felt more entangled by her responsibilities here. For a moment,
she hesitated over telling him of the Wilkes' eminent departure,
but ultimately could not contain sharing her displeasure at
Ashley's behavior. Rhett would understand her anger at being
deceived in sentiment all these years, she felt sure.
She was just sealing the letter when a soft knock came at the
door and Melanie stepped in. "Scarlett?"
"Yes?" she snapped, then regretted it. It was not Melanie's
fault that Ashley had a poor understanding of his own feelings,
and Melanie had been the least demanding of all Tara's
inhabitants. "I'm sorry, Melly. It's just that there's so much
taxing me right now..."
"Of course, darling, I don't mean to trouble you. Your sisters
asked me to fetch you when I took some water up for your
father," Melanie explained, calm as ever.
"Thank you. I'll be right up." She left the envelope on the
blotter and hurried up the stairs, wondering how he could
possibly be any worse.
In his bed, she could see where sweat had soaked through the
sheets as her sisters sat idly by, wringing their hands and
praying. For all the good that would do, she thought with a
sigh of disgust. Scarlett grabbed a cloth and soaked it in the
wash basin, then placed it across Gerald's forehead. She half
expected it to steam as she did so, hot as he felt. She
recalled Doctor Fontaine's words and turned to Suellen. "Sue,
go find Pork and ask him to bring up something for Pa. Brandy
or whiskey or something."
Suellen glared, but sullenly left the room. Scarlett settled
into her chair and watched her father sweat. Careen stared at
her from across the bed, seeming as frightened by Scarlett's
cool assurance as by her father's illness. Scarlett paid her no
heed, and when Pork entered, she calmly took the bottle of
whiskey and filled a glass, taking a sip for herself before
placing it to Gerald's lips. He drank half the glass before she
pulled it away and finished it off herself, the liquor burning
its way down her throat. After swapping the cloth on his
forehead for a new one, she drifted to the foot of the bed,
feeling helpless and idle.
By evening her helplessness was replaced by grief, though she no
longer felt purposeless. Everyone seemed to be rudderless in
the face of their loss, but Scarlett studiously ignored her
sorrow and focused on what needed to be done. She'd sent Will
into town to telegram the few family members she knew how to
contact, and to mail her letter to Rhett. With haste, she sent
notice to the neighbors and wondered how they could feed
everyone at a funeral in two days. It was only when she retired
to bed that she allowed herself to weep over the loss of her
last vestiges of parental love, protection and support. What
had been in her youth was irrevocably gone, and she wept for
that loss as much as for the loss of her father, who'd in truth
had been lost as the same time she lost her mother.
****
Chapter 16
****
The day of the funeral had dawned, appropriately enough, cold
and dreary. Scarlett was pleased by the number of neighbors and
family friends who had appeared to mourn the passing of her
father. She was distantly aware of the sea of faces drifting
away from the graveside as Pork and Will began filling it in
under her somber gaze, but jumped at a strong, warm hand on her
shoulder.
"I'm sorry about your father, Scarlett." Rhett's voice was warm
and comforting, and it took all her willpower not to collapse
against him.
"What are you doing here?" In trying to contain her weakness and
shock, her tone was harsher than she'd intended, and she
regretted it the instant the words had left her lips.
Rhett, however, seemed nonplussed by her tone as he took her arm
and led her towards the house. "I got your letter and thought
it only proper I come pay my respects. From what little time I
spent with him when he was in Atlanta, he was quite the man."
"Yes, he was, then." She walked slowly, and he kept pace beside
her, letting her linger on the lawn before approaching the
house. "He hadn't been well since Mother died, though. You
know I'd been the one running everything."
"So very little will change for you, then," he said, softly.
She shook her head violently and pulled away from him. "No,
Rhett. Everything's changed. Pa was the last bit of what I had
before the war, even if he wasn't quite the same. That chance
to make everything what it was before is really and truly gone
now. Look around," she said, sweeping her hand across the view
in front of them, "there's so much to be done here that I
haven't the first clue how to make happen. And no one else is
even willing to help try!"
"Yes, I understand that even the gallant Ashley Wilkes is
abandoning you here." There was a sudden, nasty edge in his
voice, and it touched her already frayed nerves.
She wheeled to face him, anger crackling in her posture, though
her voice remained frighteningly controlled. "I'll be
regretting the loss of labor here, not that it was worth much.
Well, Melly was helpful to tend the children and do the mending
so the rest of us could work, but Ashley might as well have done
nothing for all the work it took to fix what he did wrong."
Rhett stopped and stared at her, surprise evident on his face.
"What's this now? Unkind words for the beloved Mr. Wilkes?"
"He made it quite clear that he wouldn't know love if he tripped
over it! He--he had the nerve to tell me that his love was
something stemming from obligation not from any passion. I've
already got plenty of obligation, thank you." She pivoted on
her heel and took two steps before Rhett caught her arm.
There was an odd light in his eyes as he asked her, "So you're
no longer in love with him?"
Scarlett nibbled her lower lip and lost herself in thought;
she'd not considered it from quite that angle. Wrapping an arm
through Rhett's, she pulled him along past the house as she
considered. Finally she answered, "I don't love him the way I
thought I always did. He talked about love like an obligation,
maybe the way I love my sisters, and perhaps I still do love him
that way. But I know I love Tara, and that's something I feel
so strongly that I'm willing to...well, you know." She gestured
to him with her free hand and blushed before continuing, "And I
know that he doesn't evoke that sort of feeling in me."
"You make decisions like a general, Scarlett. It's all
reasoning, precision, and decisiveness with you."
Furrowing her brows, she asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"
He patted her hand where it rested on his arm with a laugh.
"Just that had I asked you that question a week ago, you would
have assured me he was the love of your life. But as soon as
you have evidence to support you, you're able to realize
otherwise and move on."
Genuine worry occurred to her for the first time following a
revelation to Rhett. "Do I really come across so heartlessly?"
"Some people might view it as rather cold and calculating. I
find it rather refreshing that you're able to be sensible and
analytical about the relationships in your life and make
decisions based on facts, not on intangibles."
"But I really don't know what's best for me right now, just that
it certainly isn't Ashley, if it ever was. And my mother would
be so ashamed at how callous everyone would think me if they
knew," she said quietly.
"Scarlett," he said, tipping her chin up to face him, "you're a
smart, resourceful woman. You've been married, widowed, a
mother, delivered your nephew, evacuated right through an enemy
army, survived the war, kept your family alive and your property
in your possession, and have run it yourself for the last couple
of years. I don't see how your mother would be anything but
proud of how compassionately you've treated everyone who's
needed your help."
Tears that had been threatening to spill over for the past two
days suddenly filled her eyes at his words of admiration. "You
really think so?"
"I do. Your mother was a wise woman who loved you, and she
couldn't have done better for everyone than you have. I think
you're perhaps a bit more like her than you realize."
The threatening tears trailed heavily down her cheeks as she
buried her face in Rhett's chest, her arms clinging tightly to
his strong frame. He held her for a long time, as she cried out
all the grief and confusion of the last few years. It took
several more minutes for her to regain the ability to speak, her
face still buried against his chest, voice little more than a
whisper, "That's the best compliment anyone's ever paid me, and
one I'd never expected to hear."
"Then those complimenting you must not have known you very
well." He kissed the top of her head, then loosened his
embrace. "Come, we'd better be getting back to the house,
before everyone begins to worry."
****
Chapter 17
****
That night, Scarlett sat in the office, ostensibly working, but
doing little more than nursing the glass of brandy sitting in
front of her. The rest of the house had retired long ago, and
she wasn't worried by her lack of productivity. She nearly
spilled the glass when there was a knock at the door.
With a sigh, she called, "Enter." She knew before the door
opened that it would be Rhett. He was the only one who would be
awake at this hour, or who would dare disturb her when everyone
knew that she was both working and upset. His arrival wasn't
really unpleasant, but she'd really been hoping that she could
spend the evening without his presence clouding her already
confused mind. Everything seemed to be in flux, and she wanted
to get back on firm ground before further addressing whatever
was happening between them. For there, too, she realized things
were changing in ways she couldn't quite figure out.
Rhett didn't say anything as he walked across the office and
settled on to one corner of the desk. She could tell he was
studying her, but she refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing
on the glass of alcohol in front of her. That option was
eliminated when Rhett took the glass from her and finished it in
one smooth motion.
Then, she did look at him and was surprised to see nothing but
sympathy on his face. Sighing, she leaned back in her chair and
closed her eyes.
"You were quieter this evening than I've ever seen you. How are
you doing?" Rhett's voice was smooth, enticing her to answer.
"I don't know. Everyone's expecting me to carry right on
running things without taking a moment to feel anything. And
when I try to make time, I just end up thinking about everything
I have to carry on doing."
"You're just exhausted, Scarlett. That abysmal excuse for
brandy won't help you half as much as sleep will."
She mustered a thin smile. "It is terrible brandy, isn't it?"
"I'm not quite sure it's even deserving of the name." He smiled
and reached out to pull her up from the chair. She gladly took
it and rose, relaxing into the warm touch of his hand where it
settled on her waist.
His hand rested there, warm and supporting, as he guided her
upstairs and to her door. The hand remained as she swung the
door open, and she turned in the doorway to whisper with some
trepidation, "Were you planning on joining me?"
Even in the dim light, she could see the carefully neutral look
on his face as he answered, "Do you want me to?"
She froze, impulses waging war within her. The brandy had not
been enough to intoxicate her into thinking that his spending
the night with her here would be a good idea. Yet when Rhett
was being nice like this, she knew no one more likely to help
her find a peaceful night's sleep. The liquor had loosened her
inhibitions enough to finally ask, "Would you just hold me until
I fall asleep?"
"Of course." His hand slid up from her waist to rest gently
between her shoulders as he followed her into the room. Indeed,
there was nothing sexual at all about his touch as he helped her
undress for bed, just a tender helpfulness. Upon climbing under
the covers, she was surprised when he merely slipped off his
shoes and chastely lay down on top of the blankets. When she
snuggled closer to him, laying her heavy head on his chest, she
could feel his rumbling laugh as much as hear it.
"Comfortable?"
She knew she'd drunk too much when she unthinkingly responded,
"Mmm. I feel very safe right here."
"I'm glad." He softly kissed the top of her head.
After a brief silence, she murmured, "Tell me a story, Rhett. I
like hearing you talk."
He obliged, whispering just loudly enough for her to hear. One
of his arms wrapped around her as he spoke, caressing her back.
Every so often, the tips of his fingers would brush the edge of
her breast, just frequently enough that she knew it was
deliberate. She was vaguely aware of him kissing the top of her
head once more as she drifted off to sleep, with visions of
Rhett pirating across the sea playing in her head.
When she woke she was curled around the pillow Rhett had been
reclining against the night before, the only trace of him his
lingering scent on the pillow. Bright light streamed through
the windows, telling her it was later than she'd slept in a long
time.
The post was piled on a table in the hall, and she collected her
mail and deposited it on her desk before heading to the kitchen
to scrounge up breakfast. Suellen watched her oddly as she ate
a leftover biscuit, casting furtive glances over from where she
was making bread.
"Good heavens, what is it Suellen? Am I not allowed to have
breakfast because I wake up late one morning?" Scarlett's
temper, always short with her sister, got the better of her.
Had she been less hungry, she would have tossed the half-eaten
biscuit on the floor, but settled for shoving the rest in her
mouth and storming back to her office.
There, she settled in behind the desk and sorted through the
mail, tossing the few bills to one side before noticing a letter
for her, in a vaguely familiar hand. She opened it to find a
letter from Frank Kennedy. He sent his condolences for the loss
of Mr. O'Hara, and requested her permission, as new head of the
house, to ask for Suellen's hand in marriage. Suddenly the odd
looks Suellen was giving her made more sense; surely Frank would
have written and let Suellen know he was going to ask permission
to marry her.
She laid the letter on the desk and frowned at it. Frank's
timing was improper at best, and suggested nothing so much as
pity to her. Yet she knew he was sincere in his sentiments, and
it might just be advantageous to marry Suellen. Finding paper
and a pen, she jotted down some figures, calculating the savings
at the departure of Suellen and the Wilkes against the cost of
hiring someone to help in the fields. It was not overly
startling to realize that it would indeed be more practical for
all of them to depart and for her to hire someone.
Scarlett stalked back to the kitchen, where Suellen had been
joined in her culinary efforts by Mammy and Dilcey. "Suellen,
may I speak to you alone?"
Without waiting for a response, she left the kitchen, secure in
the knowledge that Suellen would follow. Sure enough, Suellen's
footfalls echoed behind hers on the way back to her office.
Only when she reached her desk did Scarlett turn to sit and face
Suellen.
"I suppose you've had a letter from Mr. Kennedy as well,
Suellen?"
"I have," Suellen answered sharply.
Scarlett picked up her pen and tapped it on the desk. "Then you
know he wrote me, too, asking to marry you?" Suellen nodded and
she continued, "I've got no reason to say no to either of you,
if you want to marry him."
"I don't see how you'd have the right to tell me no anyhow.
Mother and Pa always wanted us to marry, and if it weren't for
the war, we'd already be."
"You needn't be nasty about it. I'll write to him this
afternoon to make arrangements," Scarlett glared at her over the
desk.
"You just write and tell him yes. You're not arranging my
wedding! I'll write him myself for about that." Suellen rose
haughtily and flounced out of the room.
Sighing, Scarlett began her letter to Frank Kennedy, gladly
looking forward to ceding responsibility for Suellen to him.
****
Chapter 18
****
Scarlett should have expected Rhett to find her, even having
wandered out into the middle of Tara's acreage. The shade of
the old oak had been a welcoming place to pause in her walk
across the terrain, and it was just as easy to avoid seeing
anyone sitting there as while walking. Yet Rhett always managed
to find her.
He said nothing as he sat down next to her, looking warily at
the ground before perching carefully on an exposed bit of root.
She studiously ignored him and watched the sea of weeds in front
of her sway in the afternoon breeze.
"Your sister was certainly happy at lunch today."
"I'll be just as happy when she's gone and I can afford to hire
someone to do some real work around here."
Rhett let out a boisterous laugh. "Scarlett, you never cease to
amaze me."
She glared at him before smiling herself. "Well, it's the
truth. With her and the Wilkes gone, I can afford to hire
someone else to work in the fields. That will be of far more
benefit to everyone than Suellen's whining is."
Grinning, Rhett reached for her, then pulled her close to him
and began to kiss her. Some of the kisses were soft and quick,
barely grazing her forehead. Others connected full on her lips,
lingering and inflaming her. She returned them when she could,
aware that while there was still a chance of someone seeing them
here like this, the chance was remote.
"I hope you're planning on paying your debts to me before
spending money on an hiring someone," he said, emphasizing his
statement with a kiss on the bridge of her nose.
She pulled away, frowning. "I don't know how I can, Rhett.
With everyone here leaving, I can't just pick up and go back to
Atlanta for a month. There won't be enough people here to do
everything."
Rhett frowned and tightened his grip on her arm, all traces of
pleasantness suddenly erased from his countenance. "I hope you
are not suggesting that I simply forgive what you owe me."
"Oh, no Rhett, not at all! But...couldn't you maybe take what's
happened as a--a down payment of sorts? And then I'll repay you
in cash after we sell the cotton this year." Every bit of charm
she could muster was on display, and she fervently hoped it was
enough. Rhett Butler was not an easy man to charm.
"I don't give a damn about the money," he said, frighteningly
calm. Suddenly, he crushed her to him and captured her lips
with his. The kiss was more intense than any they'd shared, and
Scarlett couldn't help but wrap her arms around him in response,
her mind reeling. Just as abruptly, he broke the kiss, saying,
"I give a damn about being able to do that whenever I like."
Scarlett shifted slightly away from him, loosening her embrace
of him, and studied his face while she caught her breath. There
was something fiery and wild in his eyes, and she thought of her
lament days earlier on Ashley's lack of passion. Here was
passion staring her in the face, if she was willing to accept
it. "And what solution would you propose, Rhett?"
"Perhaps I should just propose." The light in his eyes didn't
dim, but a grin tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Oh, do be serious! How many times have you made it clear that
you'd never do such a thing?" She pulled away in frustration
and started to walk away when he caught her arm. Almost
violently, he spun her to face him, and she was reminded that
despite how gentle he often was with her, he was just as capable
of overpowering her.
"What if I'm serious?" he growled, eyes boring into her face.
They locked with hers, and she couldn't look away.
Fear tingled on the edge of her sensory perception as she met
his eyes and responded with all the honesty she possessed, "I
tried to get you to ask to marry me when I asked you for the
money, and you wouldn't have me! If you're being sincere,
things being what they are, I can't think of anyone I'd rather
marry. If you're just teasing me once more, you can take your
hands off me and leave Tara this instant."
Unexpectedly, Rhett released her and burst out laughing. She
stood staring at him, brow furrowed in a mix of anger and
confusion. Just as she was on the verge of storming away, he
spoke.
"Even up against the wall, you're still nothing but frank. If I
didn't know better, I'd never believe there's anything in this
world that scares you. And yet," he stepped to her side and
tilted her chin up, "you've candidly revealed your
vulnerabilities for me."
She continued to stare at him, defiant. Where he was going with
all this, she had no clue, but she was more determined than ever
not to betray anything of herself.
"What do you really think of me, Scarlett?"
She considered, and decided to prod at his perceived
vulnerabilities. "I think...I think that you're much kinder
than you'd like anyone to realize, and you hide it by being mean
and nasty all the time. You've always helped me when I needed
you, and have been nicer than I had any right to expect, for all
you try to hide it. And," she hesitated an instant, then
plunged ahead, heedless, "you're probably my best friend, Rhett.
I've told you things that I'd die before admitting to anyone
else."
"Do you love me?"
She bit down on her lip at the unexpected question. "I--I'm not
sure I know what that means, really." Finally, she looked away
from him, staring at the ground. How had their conversation
taken this bizarre turn? And why must he ask her questions just
as she was beginning to sort out matters for herself?
"Why do you say that?"
"A week ago, it would have been so much easier to answer. I
loved Ashley and Tara and Pa. But now I don't love Ashley at
all, and Pa's dead, and I'm left with Tara, and then there's
you. I don't feel at all the way about you I did about Ashley,
but I enjoy being around you like no one else, and you're so
good to me."
"What if I said that I, too, enjoy being around you more than
anyone else and would like to marry you?"
"I'd say yes."
"Then it's settled." Rhett kissed her again, deeply as before.
She happily returned his kiss, still unsure of whether she was
really engaged to Rhett now. When they separated, he wrapped
his arm around her and led her back toward the house.
****
Author: Ellie (windblownellie@yahoo.com)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Rhett accepts Scarlett's proposition in the jail.
****
Chapter 13
****
Scarlett walked into her sitting room an hour later, dressed in
the lovely dove gray dress Rhett had given her, feeling
refreshed and relaxed. Somehow, she wasn't startled to find
Rhett sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the table next to
the breakfast tray, reading a letter.
She cleared her throat as she settled onto the opposite end of
the couch, and he swung his feet off the table with a smirk in
her direction. She smiled and reached for the plate of toast.
Before she could put butter and jam on a slice, Rhett had poured
her a cup of coffee.
"Enjoy your bath?"
"Mmm," she replied, nodding to convey her response around a
mouthful of toast.
"There's a telegram just arrived for you. They brought it up
with breakfast."
He returned to reading his own letter. She took a sip of coffee
before reaching for the telegram. She couldn't fathom who would
be sending one to her.
She opened the telegram with curiosity, then froze as the five
words it contained sunk in. The paper fluttered down from her
hand as she rose and ran back to her bedroom.
Rhett found her throwing pieces of clothing into her valise with
a manic fervor. She jumped when he took hold of her arm,
stilling her efforts.
"Scarlett, what's wrong?"
When she looked at him, she could feel the tears threatening to
spill over her eyes. With a deep breath, she answered, "Pa's
sick. I have to go back to Tara."
Rhett quickly pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.
He held her like delicate porcelain, a comfortably warm embrace,
but any tighter and she would have shattered her brave front
with a shower of tears. "Finish packing. I'll go down and make
sure there's a carriage waiting to take you to the train
station."
Without another word, he walked out of the room, leaving her
staring after him, mouth gaping. How did he always know just
what she needed at any given moment? He somehow managed to
comfort her while allowing her to cope with her worry in her own
way, supporting without any trace of control or condescension.
She threw a few more garments into the valise before heading for
the sitting room. Rhett was waiting for her there, his face
expressionless. She mustered a watery smile as she faced him
across the room.
"All set?"
With a wave at the battered valise, she asked, "I hope you don't
mind that I'm taking a few of the newer things you've given me
along."
"Not at all. In fact," he reached into an inner jacket pocket
and produced a wad of bills as he walked her to the door of the
suite. "Take this for whatever you might need, for you or your
father."
She took the bills, eyes wide with astonishment. The urge to
count it was almost irrepressible, but she managed to stuff them
in her bag quickly to count later. One hand on the doorknob,
she paused and turned to face him and gave him a fleeting kiss
on the cheek. "Thank you, Rhett. Truly."
For just a moment, his expression seemed to soften, and she
thought she could see some genuine feeling under the cynical
veneer he maintained. "You're welcome, Scarlett. Anything you
need." His face returned to the blank poker face he wore so
well before continuing, neutrally, "I hope to see you back in my
company shortly. I don't begrudge you going to your ill father,
but it doesn't excuse your debt to me."
"Understood," she snapped, hastening out the door and slamming
it behind her. She walked as swiftly as was ladylike down the
stairs and to the waiting carriage.
****
Chapter 14
****
Most of the ride to Tara was spent in contemplation. The
situation with Rhett had left her uncertain about her own
feelings, and she knew that whatever was wrong with Pa, she
would need her wits about her to deal with that situation. A
very small part of her that she studiously ignored wished Rhett
had come with her, to help her face this new unknown. Yet he
had seemed confident in her ability to handle the situation when
he sent her off with a kiss and a smirk. And fifty dollars, an
absolutely astonishing sum of money to have casually handed to
her!
Scarlett sighed as she disembarked the train at Jonesboro. Of
course there was no one waiting for her, and she reluctantly
parted with some of the money Rhett had given her to get to
Tara.
Arriving at the porch, she could see no one around. It was only
when she stepped inside that she was met by Mammy, who took her
valise and disappeared upstairs without a word. She stood in
the foyer for a few moments wondering what to do, until she
heard voices in the parlor. Quickly she crossed to the door and
slid it open to find Melanie sitting and reading to Wade and
Beau.
"Scarlett!" She looked up from the book in astonishment.
"Welcome home. Your sisters are upstairs with your father."
"Thank you, Melanie. Hello, Wade," she greeted her son, before
slipping back out the door. As she climbed the stairs, she
strained to hear any sounds, but was met only with silence. She
rapped once on her father's door before entering.
Suellen and Careen sat on either side of Pa's bed and barely
glanced up as she entered the room. Mammy stood off next to the
washbasin, and it was she who approached Scarlett. Scarlett
eyed her warily, wondering why she'd said nothing upon her
arrival moments ago.
"Your Pa was out ridin' dat Yankee hoss yesterday mornin' and
you know dat animal warn't none too graceful to start with.
Neither's your Pa been too well balanced lately. They jumped
the fence down by the ole cow field, and Miss Melly, she was out
on the porch with Wade an' Beau, and she said dat hoss slipped
landin' and your Pa gone tumbling off. Doc Fontaine been here
an' mended his broken leg, but he ain't been awake since it
happened," she lamented.
Scarlett looked at her father's pale from and the passive forms
of her sisters for a long moment before asking, "And does he
expect him to wake up?"
"He don't rightly know, Miss Scarlett. He said every day he
don't, less likely he will."
There was little more that Scarlett could do besides nod wearily
and join her sisters at the bedside. She brushed her hand
across her father's forehead to no response, though she noticed
that he felt fevered. After half an hour, she left her sisters
to care for him and went to her mother's office.
No notations had been made in the ledgers for Doctor Fontaine's
visit, or for any other expenses in her absence. She sighed and
made a note to ask Will about expenditures--he would be most
likely to know. It frustrated her to know that no one could be
bothered to do such simple things in the few days she'd been
gone. Surely someone should have better sense!
Abandoning the stuffy house she walked out the front door and
around the back of the house, toward the makeshift stabling for
the horses and cows. She was mildly surprised to find Ashley
there, bent over the horse that had belonged to the Yankee she'd
shot last year.
"Hello, Scarlett. I see you got the telegram." He stood and
faced her over the warped fencing.
"Yes." She couldn't explain why it suddenly felt that there was
a greater barrier than an old wood fence between them. "It
looks as if the horse fared better than Pa did."
"He's a bit lame, from the fall I suppose. You'll have to keep
an eye on him, but I think he'll be fine in a week or so."
"You seem to be doing well enough tending to him, Ashley. I'm
sure I'll do better to let you keep an eye on him." She tried
not to notice that he looked less handsome and certain here,
covered with hay and dust, than she'd ever seen him.
"I was going to write and tell you, but since you've had to come
home, I suppose it's best to tell you now. A friend of mine has
written and offered me a job at a bank in Baltimore. We'll be
leaving next week." He stared at the horse as he spoke, not
meeting her eyes.
He jaw dropped and for a second she panicked at the idea of
Ashley's departure. "But Ashley, don't you see, now more than
ever how wonderful it is that you're here with us?"
"What good have I been to you, Scarlett? I couldn't procure
your tax money, or prevent your father's injury in your absence.
Indeed, it seems that I've been unable to do anything here at
Tara that a common laborer couldn't do better, including tend
this horse."
"Oh, Ashley, you know that's not true! And how can you leave
now, when you refused to leave with me just months ago!" Her
knuckles were white and she could feel splinters pressing into
her skin as she gripped the fence.
"That's unfair, Scarlett. This is an opportunity for my family.
I can take care of Melanie and Beau--"
"But you don't love them!"
He only gazed at her plaintively, one hand on the horse's bony
shoulder, as if it could provide him some support he was
essentially lacking.
"You don't love them, do you?" Suddenly she was unsure of
everything around her, and the old fence was the only thing
keeping her upright.
"They're my family. Surely you understand that feeling, as much
as you've gone through for your own. Your passion and joie de
vivre will always have a special place in my heart, but I must
do what is best for them."
She wanted to scream that it was not love that had kept her tied
to Tara but obligation, obligations that were older and more
important than whatever she might have wanted for herself. In
that instant, she realized that Ashley's love was more
obligation than personal passion, and she released the fence and
stepped back. "Good luck in Baltimore, Ashley," she said
coolly, and strode off, farther away from the house, into the
fields that had once been full of cotton and were now being
reclaimed by the low brush that marked the first return of
wilderness to abandoned land.
Twilight was deepening the sky to indigo when she returned to
the house and settled on the edge of the porch. Stars were just
beginning to appear, and she rested her head against one of the
columns and stared up at them, ignoring the whitewash peeling
off against her temple. In the past twenty-four hours it seemed
that everything she'd believed in had been turned on its head,
and she found it reassuring that the stars still twinkled in the
night sky. She had enjoyed a night of unwed passion with Rhett,
who'd treated her so tenderly, both then and when she'd fled in
the face of this morning's telegram. Her father, the last tie
to her old life here, could possibly die. And rather than
staying and helping when the last thing keeping her old life
together was fading, Ashley was leaving her to fend for herself,
too frightened of whatever he might feel to admit anything more
than an obligatory sort of love for Melanie and Beau.
As she looked out across the weedy expanse that had once been
the gloriously manicured front lawn of Tara, she realized that
she was tired of an obligatory sort of polite love. She was
tired of sublimating what she felt she needed to do to coincide
with what everyone else expected of her. She made a silent vow
that she would begin rebuilding her life starting on the one
passion she was certain of--her love of Tara.
She was on the verge of leaping up from the porch and ripping
weeds up from the grass when warm hands settled a scratchy shawl
about her shoulders.
"I don't want you to be catchin' cold in this damp spring air,
Miss Scarlett. Why don't you come in and check on your Pa.
Dinner'll be ready in just a bit." Mammy rested her hand on top
of the shawl with a firm touch before returning to the house.
After a moment, Scarlett rose and followed her back inside,
heading for the stairs. As she closed the door, she realized
she'd eaten nothing all day except the bit of toast this morning
before reading the telegram, and realized even the modest dinner
that she could expect here would be very welcome.
****
Chapter 15
****
The next morning, Pa seemed to be doing even worse. To her
touch, he seemed even more fevered than the night before.
Scarlett urged Pork to fetch Doctor Fontaine to examine him
again, and stood watching from the foot of the bed as he did so.
Her sisters stood quietly to one side, and Doctor Fontaine
didn't address them at all as he poked and prodded their father.
It was Scarlett's eyes he met as he straightened and tucked his
instruments back in their tattered black bag, flicking his gaze
briefly to the door before speaking to her sisters.
"You girls are doing an excellent job caring for your father.
Keep up the good work and keep him comfortable." With that he
snapped his bag shut and headed for the door, Scarlett silently
following.
When she closed the door behind them, Scarlett was all business.
"What do you really think of his condition?"
"I meant what I said about keeping him comfortable," he replied,
meeting her tone with a serious tone of his own. "That's really
all you can do, I'm afraid. His fever's worse, and together
with the fact that he's been unconscious these last few days, it
does not bode well at all. I'd frankly be surprised if he's
still with us tomorrow. Then again, your father always was
bound and determined to prove people wrong, and head injuries
are notoriously difficult to make predictions about."
"Thank you for your help, and for being truthful with me," said
Scarlett, leading him down the stairs. "What do I owe you?"
He waved his hand then swung open the front door. "Don't worry
about that now. Pork brought us a pair of nice chickens when he
came to fetch me, consider yourselves paid up."
She nodded and saw him out before retreating to the office and
its ledger. Balancing the figures she'd filled in with the
numbers Will had given her provided a brief distraction.
Looking at the totals, she wondered how to start to not simply
repair but rebuild with the little money she had available. A
loose sheet in the back of the ledger ripped out easily, and she
began making a list of projects that would need to be
accomplished, from whitewashing the house to tending the lawns,
and made a few rough calculations on the potential cotton crop.
She thought wearily of the amount of work involved and sighed.
As she tapped the pen on the desk, she realized she ought to
write Rhett. But what to tell him? There was no way she could
return to Atlanta any time soon, not until something was
resolved with Pa; if he died, she would truly become responsible
for running things, not just doing things in her father's name.
She stared at the blank page for a long moment before all the
details of the situation spilled out of her pen to him, flowing
so quickly that the ink smudged in a few places. Doing her best
to make it clear that she wasn't shirking her debt to him, but
felt more entangled by her responsibilities here. For a moment,
she hesitated over telling him of the Wilkes' eminent departure,
but ultimately could not contain sharing her displeasure at
Ashley's behavior. Rhett would understand her anger at being
deceived in sentiment all these years, she felt sure.
She was just sealing the letter when a soft knock came at the
door and Melanie stepped in. "Scarlett?"
"Yes?" she snapped, then regretted it. It was not Melanie's
fault that Ashley had a poor understanding of his own feelings,
and Melanie had been the least demanding of all Tara's
inhabitants. "I'm sorry, Melly. It's just that there's so much
taxing me right now..."
"Of course, darling, I don't mean to trouble you. Your sisters
asked me to fetch you when I took some water up for your
father," Melanie explained, calm as ever.
"Thank you. I'll be right up." She left the envelope on the
blotter and hurried up the stairs, wondering how he could
possibly be any worse.
In his bed, she could see where sweat had soaked through the
sheets as her sisters sat idly by, wringing their hands and
praying. For all the good that would do, she thought with a
sigh of disgust. Scarlett grabbed a cloth and soaked it in the
wash basin, then placed it across Gerald's forehead. She half
expected it to steam as she did so, hot as he felt. She
recalled Doctor Fontaine's words and turned to Suellen. "Sue,
go find Pork and ask him to bring up something for Pa. Brandy
or whiskey or something."
Suellen glared, but sullenly left the room. Scarlett settled
into her chair and watched her father sweat. Careen stared at
her from across the bed, seeming as frightened by Scarlett's
cool assurance as by her father's illness. Scarlett paid her no
heed, and when Pork entered, she calmly took the bottle of
whiskey and filled a glass, taking a sip for herself before
placing it to Gerald's lips. He drank half the glass before she
pulled it away and finished it off herself, the liquor burning
its way down her throat. After swapping the cloth on his
forehead for a new one, she drifted to the foot of the bed,
feeling helpless and idle.
By evening her helplessness was replaced by grief, though she no
longer felt purposeless. Everyone seemed to be rudderless in
the face of their loss, but Scarlett studiously ignored her
sorrow and focused on what needed to be done. She'd sent Will
into town to telegram the few family members she knew how to
contact, and to mail her letter to Rhett. With haste, she sent
notice to the neighbors and wondered how they could feed
everyone at a funeral in two days. It was only when she retired
to bed that she allowed herself to weep over the loss of her
last vestiges of parental love, protection and support. What
had been in her youth was irrevocably gone, and she wept for
that loss as much as for the loss of her father, who'd in truth
had been lost as the same time she lost her mother.
****
Chapter 16
****
The day of the funeral had dawned, appropriately enough, cold
and dreary. Scarlett was pleased by the number of neighbors and
family friends who had appeared to mourn the passing of her
father. She was distantly aware of the sea of faces drifting
away from the graveside as Pork and Will began filling it in
under her somber gaze, but jumped at a strong, warm hand on her
shoulder.
"I'm sorry about your father, Scarlett." Rhett's voice was warm
and comforting, and it took all her willpower not to collapse
against him.
"What are you doing here?" In trying to contain her weakness and
shock, her tone was harsher than she'd intended, and she
regretted it the instant the words had left her lips.
Rhett, however, seemed nonplussed by her tone as he took her arm
and led her towards the house. "I got your letter and thought
it only proper I come pay my respects. From what little time I
spent with him when he was in Atlanta, he was quite the man."
"Yes, he was, then." She walked slowly, and he kept pace beside
her, letting her linger on the lawn before approaching the
house. "He hadn't been well since Mother died, though. You
know I'd been the one running everything."
"So very little will change for you, then," he said, softly.
She shook her head violently and pulled away from him. "No,
Rhett. Everything's changed. Pa was the last bit of what I had
before the war, even if he wasn't quite the same. That chance
to make everything what it was before is really and truly gone
now. Look around," she said, sweeping her hand across the view
in front of them, "there's so much to be done here that I
haven't the first clue how to make happen. And no one else is
even willing to help try!"
"Yes, I understand that even the gallant Ashley Wilkes is
abandoning you here." There was a sudden, nasty edge in his
voice, and it touched her already frayed nerves.
She wheeled to face him, anger crackling in her posture, though
her voice remained frighteningly controlled. "I'll be
regretting the loss of labor here, not that it was worth much.
Well, Melly was helpful to tend the children and do the mending
so the rest of us could work, but Ashley might as well have done
nothing for all the work it took to fix what he did wrong."
Rhett stopped and stared at her, surprise evident on his face.
"What's this now? Unkind words for the beloved Mr. Wilkes?"
"He made it quite clear that he wouldn't know love if he tripped
over it! He--he had the nerve to tell me that his love was
something stemming from obligation not from any passion. I've
already got plenty of obligation, thank you." She pivoted on
her heel and took two steps before Rhett caught her arm.
There was an odd light in his eyes as he asked her, "So you're
no longer in love with him?"
Scarlett nibbled her lower lip and lost herself in thought;
she'd not considered it from quite that angle. Wrapping an arm
through Rhett's, she pulled him along past the house as she
considered. Finally she answered, "I don't love him the way I
thought I always did. He talked about love like an obligation,
maybe the way I love my sisters, and perhaps I still do love him
that way. But I know I love Tara, and that's something I feel
so strongly that I'm willing to...well, you know." She gestured
to him with her free hand and blushed before continuing, "And I
know that he doesn't evoke that sort of feeling in me."
"You make decisions like a general, Scarlett. It's all
reasoning, precision, and decisiveness with you."
Furrowing her brows, she asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"
He patted her hand where it rested on his arm with a laugh.
"Just that had I asked you that question a week ago, you would
have assured me he was the love of your life. But as soon as
you have evidence to support you, you're able to realize
otherwise and move on."
Genuine worry occurred to her for the first time following a
revelation to Rhett. "Do I really come across so heartlessly?"
"Some people might view it as rather cold and calculating. I
find it rather refreshing that you're able to be sensible and
analytical about the relationships in your life and make
decisions based on facts, not on intangibles."
"But I really don't know what's best for me right now, just that
it certainly isn't Ashley, if it ever was. And my mother would
be so ashamed at how callous everyone would think me if they
knew," she said quietly.
"Scarlett," he said, tipping her chin up to face him, "you're a
smart, resourceful woman. You've been married, widowed, a
mother, delivered your nephew, evacuated right through an enemy
army, survived the war, kept your family alive and your property
in your possession, and have run it yourself for the last couple
of years. I don't see how your mother would be anything but
proud of how compassionately you've treated everyone who's
needed your help."
Tears that had been threatening to spill over for the past two
days suddenly filled her eyes at his words of admiration. "You
really think so?"
"I do. Your mother was a wise woman who loved you, and she
couldn't have done better for everyone than you have. I think
you're perhaps a bit more like her than you realize."
The threatening tears trailed heavily down her cheeks as she
buried her face in Rhett's chest, her arms clinging tightly to
his strong frame. He held her for a long time, as she cried out
all the grief and confusion of the last few years. It took
several more minutes for her to regain the ability to speak, her
face still buried against his chest, voice little more than a
whisper, "That's the best compliment anyone's ever paid me, and
one I'd never expected to hear."
"Then those complimenting you must not have known you very
well." He kissed the top of her head, then loosened his
embrace. "Come, we'd better be getting back to the house,
before everyone begins to worry."
****
Chapter 17
****
That night, Scarlett sat in the office, ostensibly working, but
doing little more than nursing the glass of brandy sitting in
front of her. The rest of the house had retired long ago, and
she wasn't worried by her lack of productivity. She nearly
spilled the glass when there was a knock at the door.
With a sigh, she called, "Enter." She knew before the door
opened that it would be Rhett. He was the only one who would be
awake at this hour, or who would dare disturb her when everyone
knew that she was both working and upset. His arrival wasn't
really unpleasant, but she'd really been hoping that she could
spend the evening without his presence clouding her already
confused mind. Everything seemed to be in flux, and she wanted
to get back on firm ground before further addressing whatever
was happening between them. For there, too, she realized things
were changing in ways she couldn't quite figure out.
Rhett didn't say anything as he walked across the office and
settled on to one corner of the desk. She could tell he was
studying her, but she refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing
on the glass of alcohol in front of her. That option was
eliminated when Rhett took the glass from her and finished it in
one smooth motion.
Then, she did look at him and was surprised to see nothing but
sympathy on his face. Sighing, she leaned back in her chair and
closed her eyes.
"You were quieter this evening than I've ever seen you. How are
you doing?" Rhett's voice was smooth, enticing her to answer.
"I don't know. Everyone's expecting me to carry right on
running things without taking a moment to feel anything. And
when I try to make time, I just end up thinking about everything
I have to carry on doing."
"You're just exhausted, Scarlett. That abysmal excuse for
brandy won't help you half as much as sleep will."
She mustered a thin smile. "It is terrible brandy, isn't it?"
"I'm not quite sure it's even deserving of the name." He smiled
and reached out to pull her up from the chair. She gladly took
it and rose, relaxing into the warm touch of his hand where it
settled on her waist.
His hand rested there, warm and supporting, as he guided her
upstairs and to her door. The hand remained as she swung the
door open, and she turned in the doorway to whisper with some
trepidation, "Were you planning on joining me?"
Even in the dim light, she could see the carefully neutral look
on his face as he answered, "Do you want me to?"
She froze, impulses waging war within her. The brandy had not
been enough to intoxicate her into thinking that his spending
the night with her here would be a good idea. Yet when Rhett
was being nice like this, she knew no one more likely to help
her find a peaceful night's sleep. The liquor had loosened her
inhibitions enough to finally ask, "Would you just hold me until
I fall asleep?"
"Of course." His hand slid up from her waist to rest gently
between her shoulders as he followed her into the room. Indeed,
there was nothing sexual at all about his touch as he helped her
undress for bed, just a tender helpfulness. Upon climbing under
the covers, she was surprised when he merely slipped off his
shoes and chastely lay down on top of the blankets. When she
snuggled closer to him, laying her heavy head on his chest, she
could feel his rumbling laugh as much as hear it.
"Comfortable?"
She knew she'd drunk too much when she unthinkingly responded,
"Mmm. I feel very safe right here."
"I'm glad." He softly kissed the top of her head.
After a brief silence, she murmured, "Tell me a story, Rhett. I
like hearing you talk."
He obliged, whispering just loudly enough for her to hear. One
of his arms wrapped around her as he spoke, caressing her back.
Every so often, the tips of his fingers would brush the edge of
her breast, just frequently enough that she knew it was
deliberate. She was vaguely aware of him kissing the top of her
head once more as she drifted off to sleep, with visions of
Rhett pirating across the sea playing in her head.
When she woke she was curled around the pillow Rhett had been
reclining against the night before, the only trace of him his
lingering scent on the pillow. Bright light streamed through
the windows, telling her it was later than she'd slept in a long
time.
The post was piled on a table in the hall, and she collected her
mail and deposited it on her desk before heading to the kitchen
to scrounge up breakfast. Suellen watched her oddly as she ate
a leftover biscuit, casting furtive glances over from where she
was making bread.
"Good heavens, what is it Suellen? Am I not allowed to have
breakfast because I wake up late one morning?" Scarlett's
temper, always short with her sister, got the better of her.
Had she been less hungry, she would have tossed the half-eaten
biscuit on the floor, but settled for shoving the rest in her
mouth and storming back to her office.
There, she settled in behind the desk and sorted through the
mail, tossing the few bills to one side before noticing a letter
for her, in a vaguely familiar hand. She opened it to find a
letter from Frank Kennedy. He sent his condolences for the loss
of Mr. O'Hara, and requested her permission, as new head of the
house, to ask for Suellen's hand in marriage. Suddenly the odd
looks Suellen was giving her made more sense; surely Frank would
have written and let Suellen know he was going to ask permission
to marry her.
She laid the letter on the desk and frowned at it. Frank's
timing was improper at best, and suggested nothing so much as
pity to her. Yet she knew he was sincere in his sentiments, and
it might just be advantageous to marry Suellen. Finding paper
and a pen, she jotted down some figures, calculating the savings
at the departure of Suellen and the Wilkes against the cost of
hiring someone to help in the fields. It was not overly
startling to realize that it would indeed be more practical for
all of them to depart and for her to hire someone.
Scarlett stalked back to the kitchen, where Suellen had been
joined in her culinary efforts by Mammy and Dilcey. "Suellen,
may I speak to you alone?"
Without waiting for a response, she left the kitchen, secure in
the knowledge that Suellen would follow. Sure enough, Suellen's
footfalls echoed behind hers on the way back to her office.
Only when she reached her desk did Scarlett turn to sit and face
Suellen.
"I suppose you've had a letter from Mr. Kennedy as well,
Suellen?"
"I have," Suellen answered sharply.
Scarlett picked up her pen and tapped it on the desk. "Then you
know he wrote me, too, asking to marry you?" Suellen nodded and
she continued, "I've got no reason to say no to either of you,
if you want to marry him."
"I don't see how you'd have the right to tell me no anyhow.
Mother and Pa always wanted us to marry, and if it weren't for
the war, we'd already be."
"You needn't be nasty about it. I'll write to him this
afternoon to make arrangements," Scarlett glared at her over the
desk.
"You just write and tell him yes. You're not arranging my
wedding! I'll write him myself for about that." Suellen rose
haughtily and flounced out of the room.
Sighing, Scarlett began her letter to Frank Kennedy, gladly
looking forward to ceding responsibility for Suellen to him.
****
Chapter 18
****
Scarlett should have expected Rhett to find her, even having
wandered out into the middle of Tara's acreage. The shade of
the old oak had been a welcoming place to pause in her walk
across the terrain, and it was just as easy to avoid seeing
anyone sitting there as while walking. Yet Rhett always managed
to find her.
He said nothing as he sat down next to her, looking warily at
the ground before perching carefully on an exposed bit of root.
She studiously ignored him and watched the sea of weeds in front
of her sway in the afternoon breeze.
"Your sister was certainly happy at lunch today."
"I'll be just as happy when she's gone and I can afford to hire
someone to do some real work around here."
Rhett let out a boisterous laugh. "Scarlett, you never cease to
amaze me."
She glared at him before smiling herself. "Well, it's the
truth. With her and the Wilkes gone, I can afford to hire
someone else to work in the fields. That will be of far more
benefit to everyone than Suellen's whining is."
Grinning, Rhett reached for her, then pulled her close to him
and began to kiss her. Some of the kisses were soft and quick,
barely grazing her forehead. Others connected full on her lips,
lingering and inflaming her. She returned them when she could,
aware that while there was still a chance of someone seeing them
here like this, the chance was remote.
"I hope you're planning on paying your debts to me before
spending money on an hiring someone," he said, emphasizing his
statement with a kiss on the bridge of her nose.
She pulled away, frowning. "I don't know how I can, Rhett.
With everyone here leaving, I can't just pick up and go back to
Atlanta for a month. There won't be enough people here to do
everything."
Rhett frowned and tightened his grip on her arm, all traces of
pleasantness suddenly erased from his countenance. "I hope you
are not suggesting that I simply forgive what you owe me."
"Oh, no Rhett, not at all! But...couldn't you maybe take what's
happened as a--a down payment of sorts? And then I'll repay you
in cash after we sell the cotton this year." Every bit of charm
she could muster was on display, and she fervently hoped it was
enough. Rhett Butler was not an easy man to charm.
"I don't give a damn about the money," he said, frighteningly
calm. Suddenly, he crushed her to him and captured her lips
with his. The kiss was more intense than any they'd shared, and
Scarlett couldn't help but wrap her arms around him in response,
her mind reeling. Just as abruptly, he broke the kiss, saying,
"I give a damn about being able to do that whenever I like."
Scarlett shifted slightly away from him, loosening her embrace
of him, and studied his face while she caught her breath. There
was something fiery and wild in his eyes, and she thought of her
lament days earlier on Ashley's lack of passion. Here was
passion staring her in the face, if she was willing to accept
it. "And what solution would you propose, Rhett?"
"Perhaps I should just propose." The light in his eyes didn't
dim, but a grin tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Oh, do be serious! How many times have you made it clear that
you'd never do such a thing?" She pulled away in frustration
and started to walk away when he caught her arm. Almost
violently, he spun her to face him, and she was reminded that
despite how gentle he often was with her, he was just as capable
of overpowering her.
"What if I'm serious?" he growled, eyes boring into her face.
They locked with hers, and she couldn't look away.
Fear tingled on the edge of her sensory perception as she met
his eyes and responded with all the honesty she possessed, "I
tried to get you to ask to marry me when I asked you for the
money, and you wouldn't have me! If you're being sincere,
things being what they are, I can't think of anyone I'd rather
marry. If you're just teasing me once more, you can take your
hands off me and leave Tara this instant."
Unexpectedly, Rhett released her and burst out laughing. She
stood staring at him, brow furrowed in a mix of anger and
confusion. Just as she was on the verge of storming away, he
spoke.
"Even up against the wall, you're still nothing but frank. If I
didn't know better, I'd never believe there's anything in this
world that scares you. And yet," he stepped to her side and
tilted her chin up, "you've candidly revealed your
vulnerabilities for me."
She continued to stare at him, defiant. Where he was going with
all this, she had no clue, but she was more determined than ever
not to betray anything of herself.
"What do you really think of me, Scarlett?"
She considered, and decided to prod at his perceived
vulnerabilities. "I think...I think that you're much kinder
than you'd like anyone to realize, and you hide it by being mean
and nasty all the time. You've always helped me when I needed
you, and have been nicer than I had any right to expect, for all
you try to hide it. And," she hesitated an instant, then
plunged ahead, heedless, "you're probably my best friend, Rhett.
I've told you things that I'd die before admitting to anyone
else."
"Do you love me?"
She bit down on her lip at the unexpected question. "I--I'm not
sure I know what that means, really." Finally, she looked away
from him, staring at the ground. How had their conversation
taken this bizarre turn? And why must he ask her questions just
as she was beginning to sort out matters for herself?
"Why do you say that?"
"A week ago, it would have been so much easier to answer. I
loved Ashley and Tara and Pa. But now I don't love Ashley at
all, and Pa's dead, and I'm left with Tara, and then there's
you. I don't feel at all the way about you I did about Ashley,
but I enjoy being around you like no one else, and you're so
good to me."
"What if I said that I, too, enjoy being around you more than
anyone else and would like to marry you?"
"I'd say yes."
"Then it's settled." Rhett kissed her again, deeply as before.
She happily returned his kiss, still unsure of whether she was
really engaged to Rhett now. When they separated, he wrapped
his arm around her and led her back toward the house.
****