this is another sequel - all characters are property of the Stephens Mitchell Estate. Direct quotes from the novel are in quotes and italics. please let me know what you think. AG

Scarlett wearily dressed for the weekly meeting of the Association for the Beautification of the Graves of Our Glorious Dead, wishing with half of her mind that she had never sought membership, while the other half wished she could truly be interested in it. After the deaths of Melly and Bonnie, and Rhett's final abandonment, she had retreated to Tara and the comfort of Mammy. Mammy, the last link with the old days, Mammy, who had told her in no uncertain terms that her mother and Miss Melly were weeping in heaven, and that if she wanted to see them again, Miss Scarlett had better mend her ways. Frightened at the thought, and with the religious training of her childhood brought to the fore of her mind, Scarlett had returned to Atlanta and with her usual single-minded determination, had cow-towed to the Old Guard, and wheedled and begged her way into nearly as many groups as Melly had once belonged. Her declaration that Melly would want her to carry on her work went far in smoothing her path, and, in an honest moment, Scarlett knew that was not a lie. Rhett's assault on that same group of upright Atlanta citizens had worked before, when he had dragged her kicking and screaming to some semblance of respectability for Bonnie's benefit, and Scarlett was grudgingly accepted into the fold.

She wore subdued clothing to all of her meetings, meekly took her turn hosting the events at her home, always careful to have the servants hide the vast majority of her ostentatious decorations, contributed generously, but not to the point of excess, and had bitten her tongue so many times she was positive there were scars. She pinned her hat on her head and headed for the parlor.

The sound of Ella's giggles and Wade's laughter caused her to stop momentarily. Rhett's cruel but accurate assessment of her mothering had cut more deeply than she had let on to him, hating, as always, to admit he was correct, and while at Tara, she and Mammy had spoken seriously of her relationship with them. Mammy knew neither child had been wanted, had witnessed Scarlett's inattention and sharpness toward them, but nevertheless insisted that it was not too late to salvage something close to a mother and child relationship.

"Do it for Miss Melly, chile," Mammy urged. "She loved your children like her own."

Yes, for Melly. Scarlett straightened her back, kissed her children good-bye, and climbed into the buggy, steeling herself for another boring afternoon. Perhaps on the way back she would stop at the store and go over the books. Even the thought of soaring profits failed to lift her spirits. Damn him, she thought again.

When Rhett had walked out of her life six months ago, he had told her that he would return to keep gossip down. True, he had been gone nearly that long in the past, but now, Scarlett had a sinking feeling in her stomach that he had lied to her, that he never intended to return. Her explanation to Wade and Ella had been a business trip, a story they accepted, but they were beginning to ask for him. Rhett was the only father Ella had ever known, and had been Wade's for over half of his life, had in fact been in Wade's life almost since his birth. And, Scarlett admitted with unaccustomed honesty, Rhett was a much better parent to them than she.

God, how she missed him. Longed for his wicked humor, his barbed comments, his strong arms, arms which in her stupidly blind insistence on loving a dream, she had banished from her bed. She even missed his hateful comments and their all too frequent fights. Recalling his impersonal kindness when he left, Scarlett drew her shawl more tightly around her. Anything, anything was preferable to that. It was too close to contempt, and she would die before she elicited contempt from him. Admiration, respect, and love were what she wanted. But in her heart, Scarlett feared that his love had worn out, as he had said, even as hers had grown. Certainly his silence the past six months confirmed his statement.

Scarlett listened to the ladies with half an ear, a pleasant smile pasted on her face, and was relieved when it was time for refreshments. She politely declined, stating that Ella might be coming down with a cold, which was true, and she needed to get home. Despite herself, Scarlett laughed inwardly at the Old Guard. Her maternal concern had raised her standing in the eyes of Mrs. Merriwether and several others.

The idea of checking columns of figures gave her a headache now, when once it had brought her joy, and she turned the buggy toward home. Home. Scarlett didn't conceal her sarcastic laugh. When had it really been a home? Never, not even when Bonnie was alive, because she and Rhett had always been at each other's throats. God in heaven, he had been so correct - she had thrown away happiness with both hands.

Rhett sat in the carriage and gazed unseeingly out the window. Despite his arguments with himself, he was back in Atlanta, headed to the large, too quiet house on Peachtree Street. So quiet without Bonnie's running feet, Mammy's scolding voice, Bonnie's laughter. Why the devil had he promised her that he would come back to keep gossip down? He'd never given a damn about gossip, until Bonnie's birth, and then he had merely changed his spots. And Scarlett's. He let out a long suffering sigh. Meeting Scarlett O'Hara had certainly changed his life. The past months, he had often indulged himself, thinking about how differently things would be if he had never laid eyes on her all those years ago.

He would never have known he was capable of such love, he admitted honestly. And he would never had known such pain, the pain of holding her in his arms and knowing she wished those arms belonged to another. He would also never have known he was capable of such cruelty to the mother of his child.

"Cheer up, maybe you'll have a miscarriage."

He cringed. Of all the cruel things he had ever said to Scarlett, that was the worst. No wonder she had not called for him when she was so sick, so sick he was sure he had killed her. His cruelty toward her had been far worse than hers to him, because Scarlett had never said she loved him, had never lied to him about that, yet he had punished her for not saying it. The unfairness of his behavior sickened him.

If he had never met Scarlett, he would never have known the utter joy of holding his daughter in his arms. And he would never have known the despair and grief which threatened to kill him when she died.

The night Melanie Wilkes died, Scarlett had told him of her love, and he believed it. But. With Scarlett, there was always a "but." She had declared unending love for Ashley Wilkes, only to discover it was a dream. Still, Rhett knew Scarlett well, and had seen the truth in her eyes, heard it in her voice, and had witnessed her determination not to cry and scream at him. He had waited so long to hear those words, "I love you," and when she had uttered them, he was too numb and too weary to feel anything except kindness and pity.

In moments of reflection, Rhett admitted that he wanted to exert a measure of control over Scarlett. They were so similar - cynical, opportunistic, selfish, determined to succeed in the post war South - that Rhett understood her motives and applauded them, as long as they did not include Ashley Wilkes. Nevertheless, he had not desired to change her character, as he loved her beyond words, but sought to change her feelings toward him. When she agreed to marry him, she admitted fondness for him, a declaration which broke his heart. Fondness, and his money. He realized that Scarlett sought independence and security, and he gave her both during their marriage, willing to do whatever he could to win her love. And he had, too late.

Rhett collected the presents for Ella and Wade, grabbed his bag, and reached for his house key. Striding to the front door, he paused. He hadn't wired her that he was coming, hoping that he would be able to stay away. Damn it all, he was afraid, afraid to go in and see her again. It puzzled him, this fear. He didn't love her, was back only because of some strange, perverse promise he had made her. A promise which he should never have made, and one he wished to God he had the strength to break. Why was he so hesitant to see her? Why did the mere thought of her arouse him? Why did he ache to feel her arms around his neck, hear her laughter, even listen to her tantrums?

"Uncle Rhett!" Ella leaped into his arms and kissed his cheek, overjoyed to see him. Wade stood beaming at him, hesitated, unsure whether he should shake hands, then ran to Rhett and hugged him.

After the gifts were distributed, still with no sign of Scarlett, Rhett took a deep breath and inquired as to her whereabouts.

Wade proudly told him that his mother was at the monthly meeting of the Association for the Beautification of the Graves of Our Glorious Dead and Rhett was hard pressed to conceal his shock.

"Why did she join, Wade? Did she tell you?" Damn it, what did he care why Scarlett did anything? He'd told her he didn't.

"My dear, I don't give a damn."

"Because of Aunt Melly," Wade replied soberly. "Mother told us that Aunt Melly would want her to be in all the groups and clubs, so Mother is gone nearly every afternoon to meetings."

Rhett's eyebrow went up and his mouth down. Wade was clearly proud of his mother and his large brown eyes shone with happiness. Rhett's eyes flitted to Ella. Sweet, simple Ella. She lifted up her new doll and smiled at him.

"She's so pretty, thank you again," she said softly.

The front door opened and Ella jumped to her feet. "It's Mama!" she cried. She raced to the woman in the doorway, and Rhett's eyes were drawn to her like a magnet. She hadn't noticed him yet, and he took the moment to observe her. Beautiful as ever, and she certainly did not appear to be pining away for him. Scarlett bent over and kissed her daughter's head, noted the new doll, and her green eyes searched the parlor, landing on him. Rhett noticed how her face softened, her eyes shone, and her lips curved upwards slightly.

Scarlett moved to him and Rhett got to his feet.

"It's good of you to come back," Scarlett said. "We've missed you."

Rhett's face was smooth, his eyes blank. But his mind was far from blank. Sincerity burned in her eyes. He knew her far too well to be deceived, and her eyes always gave her away. Something suspiciously like pleasure ran through him.

Scarlett looked into his black eyes and hers dimmed when she saw the total lack of emotion. Rhett felt an unexpected pang in his chest when he saw the happiness fade from her green eyes, and he saw sadness large enough to touch him.

"Will you be dining here this evening?" she asked, forcing herself not to burst into tears and throw her arms around him.

Rhett met her level gaze and admiration glinted before he shuttered his eyes. "Yes, I shall, my dear. I'd like to catch up on all the news of Atlanta."

She forced a smile on her face. "That will be nice. I'll go tell Cook."

He watched her walk away, her hips swaying delectably, and he cursed his traitorous body. Lust, love, desire, they always got twisted up where Scarlett was concerned. The nurse led the children away to prepare them for dinner and he was left alone in the parlor. His eyes skimmed the room, as if Bonnie would suddenly appear, dashing through the house whooping with laughter at something Pork or Mammy had said, giggling at Mr. Butler's behavior, or crying because she hadn't gotten her way, and wanted her daddy to take care of her. Rhett rubbed a hand over his eyes. All he wanted was to be Daddy again and fix things for her. But Bonnie was gone.

Scarlett quietly walked to the staircase, then stopped and turned to him.

"Dinner is at eight, as usual," she said before walking up the steps.

Rhett ached to brush her face, to feel the heat of her skin against his hand, but held back. Damn it, what was wrong with him? He no longer loved her. He felt some sort of obligation to her, naturally. They were married, and he would continue to financially support her and the children, quite generously, he added mentally. And they had been together, in some sort of fashion, for nearly thirteen years.

"It seems we've been at cross purposes, doesn't it?"

The words came back to him suddenly. Why the devil hadn't he spoken up? Why hadn't she spoken up? Because both were operating under the misconception that the other did not care. Rhett sighed and wandered to the dining room, located the wine, and poured himself a generous glass. He hated liars with a vengeance, and so couldn't lie to himself. He still cared about her. She had been the love of his life, and he did care for her.

"My dear, I don't give a damn."

That night, he hadn't, and he hadn't for many nights thereafter. But now, back in Atlanta, in their house, Rhett cared. No, he admitted with excruciating honesty, he had cared before returning. But caring and love were two very different emotions.

Rhett's eyes darkened as he replayed the few words she had spoken to him. She had been calm, polite, and genuinely glad to see him, but she had not screamed or demanded explanations as he had anticipated. Rhett swore and poured another glass. Scarlett without fire was like the world without air. Had he done this to her? Destroyed her spirit? He had always admired her courage, her fire, her determination, except when it was focused on Ashley Wilkes, and the thought that it was gone saddened him.

Scarlett summoned Lou to help her dress, selecting an attractive green silk dress which Rhett had never seen. Rhett always noticed her clothes, and would comment on them if he felt they were in poor taste. But perhaps not now, she thought, since he didn't care about her. This dress was not matronly, but not girlish, either, and she felt attractive for the first time in months. Dismissing Lou, Scarlett moved to her jewelry drawer, selecting modest gold earbobs. She glanced down at her wedding ring, the ring she removed only while bathing, and her eyes misted over. God, it was so large. She smiled, remembering how Rhett had grinned when he slipped it on her finger and her hand had nearly dropped under its weight.

"The ring Rhett brought back from England was large indeed, so large it embarrassed Scarlett to wear it. She loved gaudy and expensive jewelry but she had an uneasy feeling that everyone was saying, with perfect truth, that this ring was vulgar. The central stone was a four-carat diamond and surrounding it were a number of emeralds. It reached to the knuckle of her finger and gave her hand the appearance of being weighed down. Scarlett had a suspicion that Rhett had gone to great pains to have it made up and, for pure meanness, had ordered it made as ostentatious as possible."

Scarlett looked in the mirror, straightened her shoulders, and mentally braced herself for the coming encounter with Rhett. She wouldn't cry, beg, or make hateful remarks, no matter how provoked she became. She paused outside of Bonnie's door, then firmly opened it, checking to be sure the maid had dusted it today. Although Bonnie had slept in Rhett's room, she had her own bedroom, where her clothes and many toys were placed. She felt his presence behind her, heard his sudden intake of breath, and she turned to face him.

"Her room is cleaned every day, Rhett, and I just can't bring myself to move her things. We should decide what to do together." She had unconsciously laid her hand on his arm, and her sad eyes met his. There was something in her eyes, something so deeply bruised and painful, it broke his heart.

"My dear, I don't give a damn."

Rhett covered her hand with his. "We will, but not now. It's still too raw." He dropped his hand suddenly, and extended his arm. "Shall we, Mrs. Butler?"

Scarlett looked into his black eyes. They weren't teasing her or mocking her. He was being kind, escorting her to dinner like a gentleman. If he can be civil, she thought, then perhaps. She stopped the thought. All of the plans and schemes she had concocted the past six months fell away from her mind.

"I can't live with a lie."

She would not resort to that again. She had married Frank based on lies, lies that she loved him, lies that Suellen had made plans to marry Tony Fontaine, and then she had killed him by riding through Shantytown. Scarlett's eyes grew clear. She had not planned on lying to Rhett, but had seriously considered a campaign to win him back. Now she realized that was the wrong approach. She would be honest with Rhett. If all she could have from him was his respect, she would settle for that.

She was unaware of Rhett's scrutiny and the emotions which flickered in his eyes, so caught up was she in her thoughts.

Dinner passed pleasantly, the two acting like old friends meeting after a long time apart. Rhett revealed that he had in fact been in Charleston, found it peaceful and boring, as he had hoped, but, he admitted, he was not quite as ready for the quiet as he had thought.

"So Atlanta's not too raw, too new, after all?" Scarlett queried.

"Parts of it are. But I suppose what I was looking for wasn't in Charleston, or any other city, for that matter."

"No, she's not in any city," Scarlett agreed quietly.

Rhett met her startling green eyes, examined them carefully, and let out a sigh. "We both miss her, Scarlett." His tone was calm, quiet, then suddenly changed. "However, my dear, you seem to have an inexhaustible amount of strength within that small body. Your mother, your father, Mrs. Wilkes, Bonnie, all gone now, yet you soldier on, seemingly fine. Pray tell, how do you do it? The brandy bottle?"

Scarlett winced at the mockery in his voice, the jabbing and sparring apparent once more. Her brows drew together, and Rhett smiled inwardly. Yes, Scarlett still had fire. A banked fire, perhaps, but it was still there. Thank God.

"How you do run on," Scarlett remarked icily.

Rhett waited a few moments before commenting. "Tell me, darling, is it the brandy which fortifies you, comforts you?" A sparkle of definitely derisive amusement showed for a second in his eyes.

"Not anymore," she said sharply.

He raised an eyebrow.

"I drink wine with dinner, nothing else, as if it's any of your business." She scowled at him across the table, caught the laughter in his eyes, and her scowl grew deeper.

"Well, it's not, Rhett," she said petulantly, "you made that very clear six months ago."

"Would you satisfy my curiosity? Why this change?" He lounged in his chair, his posture casual, but his eyes were sharp.

I won't lie to him, Scarlett told herself. He'll know. "Right before I went to Tara, after you left, I got as drunk as Pa on court day. Drunker, I do believe, and after that, the thought of anything stronger than wine makes me ill."

Rhett's eyes sparked. "Really? That's probably for the best, Scarlett. Women who drink age faster. Did you know that? I learned that years ago from, well, it doesn't matter, but believe me, my darling, when you're forty and have been drinking for twenty years, you'll look sixty."

He grinned at her expression. "Now, now, you don't look old. I was merely making a point. Your vanity, Scarlett, is quite something to behold."

Her brows drew together again and a sharp retort was on the tip of her tongue when she suddenly laughed. It stunned Rhett and he firmly took control of his emotions.

"Excuse me, I believe I shall retire," Scarlett stated. She pushed her chair back before Rhett had an opportunity to assist her.

"No, not until you answer my question. How do you stand it? The deaths of nearly everyone you love?"

She sank back into her chair, her eyes locked with his. Never, in all the years she had known him, had Rhett Butler ever asked her such a serious question in a serious manner.

"Because I have to," she murmured. "I had to work on Tara, feed everyone, keep the taxes paid. Mother and Pa, well, I didn't really have time to grieve. There was always so much work to do. And Bonnie. I've not recovered from that, or from Melly. I have to go on because of Ella and Wade. But I don't grieve in public, which is why the old pea-hens always say I'm heartless. Maybe I am, in some ways, but I never, ever, will stop missing any of them. Ever." Scarlett dropped her eyes, then firmly raised them.

"Does that answer your question?"

"Not really. Because you have to. Does that mean I must bear Bonnie's death merely because I'm still alive?" There was sadness in his voice.

"Yes."

Her one word answer tore at him.

"Good night, Rhett." She rose and quickly walked to the stairs. Safely in her room, clad in her nightgown and wrapper, Scarlett turned down the lights and peered into the street, then cursed herself for a fool. If Rhett wanted to spend his first night in Atlanta with Belle Watling, there was nothing she could do to stop him. She wished could feel anger toward him, the killing rage of the O'Haras, but all she felt was love and sadness. She heard his footsteps in the hall and said a quick prayer of thanks. He wasn't going to Belle.

Rhett stopped outside her door, fighting with himself. God, how he wanted her. Her pale white soft skin beneath his, her small body which fit perfectly against his, but if he gave in to his carnal desires, he knew she would think it meant more, and he didn't want to hurt her anymore. He had meant what he said, about finding peace. And hurting his wife would not bring him peace.

"My dear, I don't give a damn."

But I do, he mocked himself as he let himself into his room.

Scarlett heard him walk away and fought the tears which threatened to overflow. Then she raised her chin. Rhett was here, in their house. And they had made it through an evening without cutting each other to shreds. As God is my witness, he'll respect me, even if he can't love me.