Hi guys! As promised, Chapter 10 - the finale to our Christmas tale.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

* Repeat Disclaimer: Themes/dialogue/characters, etc… are all the property of their respective copyright holders.

I'm just borrowing them. *

10.

By the time the evening was coming to a close, Scarlett was merely glad to have made it through the day. Most shopkeepers had stopped working about noontime, and around four o'clock, they had shut their doors completely, allowing the streets to overflow with the last minute Christmas shoppers, black and white alike. And they had all come to Kennedy's.

And they would be back the day after Christmas, she was sure - their children too. The only difference would be that they'd be all scrubbed and shiny, fresh from Christmas and still feeling the effects of the previous night's eggnog. It'd be like that until New Year, at least. People would speak to one another respectfully and with the utmost kindness. Perpetually drunk on their own holiday cheer, eggnog or not! Ha!

But at least she had made herself useful this Christmas. Not like last year, when she had barely recognized the pitiful creature whose face had stared back at her in the mirror. She had been broken then, so very broken.

Working again had made her feel useful, something she had not experienced since Rhett had tricked her into selling her sawmills to Ashley. And her clerks had been mighty good, and they hadn't offered a word of complaint when she had decided to pitch in and help. She had also learned the value and importance of listening to the folks who came into the store - take Mrs. Meade, for instance, who had said 'wouldn't it be nice if we could have a holiday party and silent auction, just like the old days when Old Man Hollis still ran the general store.' So Scarlett had waited a day or two before sending Wade Hampton to the Meades' with a handwritten note, inviting the Ladies' Association for the Beautification of the Graves of the Glorious Dead to host a holiday soiree at Kennedy's on Christmas Eve, complete with silent auction, all proceeds to benefit the Confederate Widows and Orphans Fund. Well, Mrs. Meade had thought that it was a pretty good idea … of course, she also took it upon herself to hog all the credit for it. 'Wasn't it nice, Mrs. Meade - Oh Mrs. Meade, you have such a kind and generous heart,' Scarlett mimicked under her breath as she continued to wipe down the counter. Lord, but she would be there for hours sweeping the floor from all the cookie crumbs. The Pecard children were so very messy. Not like her own Wade and Ella.

Standing in front of Kennedy's were a few stragglers, Grandpa Meriwether and Rene Pecard among them. Before she could close the door behind her and lock it, Scarlett heard Rene call out to someone else. "Hey, did you hear the news?"

"Sure did," someone across the street replied in an equally booming voice. "My kids were bangin' on my office door an hour ago. Imagine, the Hamilton and Wilkes boys collected all them letters 'fore they could lock up Santa Claus! I'll be…"

Scarlett grinned with pride in spite of herself.

"Know whether he'll be back next year at Kennedy's?" Rene asked, then, seeing that Scarlett was still inside, knocked on the glass window. "Scarlett? Is zat Mr. Kringle back next year?"

Scarlett shrugged and mouthed back, "I can't say."

"Scarlett!" Rene banged again. She wished that he would quit it. She had spent the last hour making those windows shine. "Letter here for you, on ze door!"

She nodded in understanding, but waited for the little Creole and the rest of his companions to move along before peeking out and retrieving it. She took one last glance around the store before finally presuming it serviceable, or at least enough that she could head off home without feeling that she'd left the place in complete disarray. Wade and Ella would be hungry, and they never asked Prissy to fix them dinner. Not that Scarlett blamed them - she didn't exactly trust Prissy's cooking. Pansy had been given the evening off, along with Lou and Pork and Dilcey, from her position over at the Wilkes's. Ashley had mentioned something about cooking, although she was uncertain about that invitation as well. Rhett had made perfectly clear his intention to leave the day after Christmas from the start, but he had said no more about his departure time since the word of Mr. Kringle's legal trouble had broken. She didn't even blame Rhett for leaving - no, it would probably be for the best. But she couldn't help but think about how nice it would be if, by some miracle, he did stay. Miracle indeed, she thought to herself; I could spend my whole lifetime waiting …and his answer still might be a big, fat No.

But still, she took careful account of her reflection in the mirror above the cash register and appraised herself. She had chosen her light-blue midday for the party, velvet and accented with silk on the sleeves and bustle. It happened to be her favorite, and not only because she had ordered it from the most expensive store in New York but because it had neither sashes nor lace. It needed none, so perfectly it accented the silhouette of her figure. Within twenty strokes of the hairbrush she kept stowed underneath the counter, her hair seemed to come alive, and she was hesitant to pin it back. It was glossy and healthy and set off her eyes. Rhett had said once that a man could get lost in her eyes … that Rhett had been a different man than the one she knew now. She stuck the first pin into her hair and near stabbed her scalp.

"I prefer it down."

Startled by the male voice in the dark, locked-from-the-inside room, she hastily whirled around to face its owner.

"Hello, Scarlett." Rhett said.

She brushed some imaginary dust from the skirt of her gown before walking towards him. She straightened her thoughts in logical sequence so that they could have a civil, businesslike discussion, just as he preferred all their conversations, of late.

He was leaning against the register on the opposite counter, taking a long draw from a cigar. She walked over.

"What are you doing in here? I never saw you come in during the party. What do you want?"

"I was wondering the same thing."

"Wade and Ella were looking everywhere. They thought that you'd be pleased about Mr. Kringle and want to celebrate along with the rest of the town."

"I had a good deal on my mind, if it's all the same to you."

"Well, you could have said something to Wade before you took off. He insisted that we wait for half an hour just in case you decided to come back to the courthouse," Scarlett said, "I was afraid you'd gone for good without even saying goodbye..."

"Well, I'm still here." His mouth melted from a frown into the very smallest of smiles. "And I am happy to catch you alone." His face showed the very beginning of a beard.

"You need a shave," she commented. "…before you actually do leave."

For moments, he just stared down at the wooden floor. Then, abruptly, his forehead wrinkled along his hairline as he said, "I could stay. For a day or so."

"I wish you would just go."

"And miss Christmas entirely?"

"It's happened before."

"It has. I'm aware of that. Listen to me well, my dear, I did not choose to remain in Atlanta just so that you may demonstrate your wit."

Scarlett took a swallow of leftover champagne from a glass that had been left on the counter. "This is a mess," she motioned discouragingly to the piles of used dishes covering the hastily set-up tables. "Why did you decide to stay, then?"

"If you want to know the truth, late last night, something - I don't know what - woke me. I followed the light down the hall to Wade's room, where I found him and Ella sitting, talking quietly. She was crying her eyes out, and she said that she was okay and that nothing was wrong, but then she began speaking of Bonnie and Christmases past. Then she told him that she wanted to believe in Mr. Kringle more than anything but only would if she got her Christmas wish."

"And you assumed that her heart's desire was for you to stay for Christmas?"

"The thought had occurred to me."

"That was what she wanted last year. It didn't happen, oddly enough."

"I realize that."

"I thought you might have come, too."

"What gave you that indication?" He blew out smoke along with the question.

"It was the first Christmas since Bonnie … and Melly …" She didn't possess enough strength to finish her sentence.

He gave her a look while waiting for her to do so. She tried to decipher the meaning of it in her head: He either thinks that I'm too cold and unfeeling to mourn Melly and our daughter; or that I'm deliberately lying to him; or maybe I'm just attempting to lure him back into my web.

"I thought that you would have been there," she finished lamely, already backing away, "I was wrong."

She thought of a few other things to tell him too. Things like if he doesn't really want to be a part of this family then I'll just go along home to the children and we'll spend the evening at Ashley's. He'd be sorry then. But she didn't say it because she didn't think he'd care one bit if she left. Actually, he'd probably prefer it.

"Why did you want to meet, Scarlett?"

That hadn't been what she was expecting. His dark face tilted a bit to the right while his black eyes stared. Then there he was, standing over her, looking down at her. Was he waiting for something? Well, she had no intention of begging or crying, if that's what he thought. And he wasn't even going to be completely certain that he still held any power over her.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

He looked down at his watch and pulled a folded piece of paper out from the inside pocket of his coat. "A letter, in your handwriting, I believe."

She skimmed over it. "I wrote no such thing."

"Why, Scarlett? Why! You answer me!"

"I did not write you a note, you fool!"

The most direct route to the door was straight past him. Surely once she reached the door her breathing would return.

"Please. Just tell me why."

She looked back at him, bewildered. What the devil was he running on about? She really wanted to know. What new little something had someone spread around about her, in the form of a letter?

His lips were sucked together in anticipation. "Allow me to refresh your memory. A divorce, Scarlett? I was under the impression that a divorce was not your desire. At least, that was your response to my offer as of last week."

She now had no idea as to what he had heard. Divorce? "Well, Rhett, I don't know if I should tell you this or not, but -" She wasn't sure herself just where this was going to end up, but she was enjoying it in spite of herself, "-somebody told me that they had a first cousin that finalized her divorce, and she was married the very next year to someone ten times better."

She supposed that he didn't find her sarcasm amusing, because he was stone silent. Then, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her like a child.

"You listen to me! Hold me here, if you must. Imprison me as you always have. Rip my heart out and throw it to the wolves but don't you dare, don't you dare do this." His face was a pasty white. "Don't you do it!" His breath was coming in quick, heavy gasps.

"Rhett, you fool! Did you honestly think that I - Rhett!"

Rhett, his hands outstretched before him, froze. His face was like she had never beheld it, dazed with horror. Then, he clapped his hands to his eyes and backed towards the door.

"If you walk out that door …" she threatened. "Now, I did not write you any letter. On my life, I did not. Would you please explain what's gotten you so excited?"

"Who wrote it then? Signed it Scarlett and wanted to discuss the matter of our divorce at Bonnie's gravesite? And I quote, let the only pure portion of our marriage bear witness to it's dissolution."

"Does that sound like me, truly?"

He gave a small smile. "I assumed Ashley had a hand in it."

"No. Not Ashley. Never Ashley," she said emphatically, and then from somewhere within her came crying.

Abruptly, he started toward her, and took her by the hand. She tried to find her voice as she felt his large hand squeeze her small one.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed. "I don't know what's come over me. I suppose it's the thought of you walking out that door. Of losing you again. You've walked out so many times and each time I wonder if I'll ever see you again. And I wanted so very much for you just to realize that you had forgiven me and that you were ready to come home for good, that you still cared…if only a little."

Rhett brought her hand to the ever so slightly moist corners of his own eyes. "And to think, my dear, I gave you my last and most favorite handkerchief. I don't suppose that you could oblige me?"

She laughed aloud at that. "I must have mislaid it after you'd been particularly nasty."

"But surely you understand why I was - and why I had to leave. We both knew that I couldn't stay, Scarlett. It had to happen and I think you know that. Otherwise, you would have tried to fight it."

"No I did not!" She took a deep breath. "I didn't think that you would really leave. And when you did, I assumed that you'd be back after a few days with that Watling woman. But days became a week, two weeks became a month, and here we are, Rhett. It's just as you said the other night, the children are old enough to know the truth. It makes no sense to keep up the façade any longer. But I never stopped hoping, even then …"

"Scarlett, I don't think-"

"Don't talk anymore, please. Now, I listened to you last weekend. If you'd be so kind as to return the favor, I'd be mighty grateful." It was her burden to tote, and she would continue if it killed her - but she had to try. "Rhett, if you would just consider staying on for good. Rhett, I…what I'm trying to tell you is-"

His thumb pressed against her palm. "You know what you're asking is impossible, but if you're saying that you love me-"

"Yes," she answered. "And I'd never in a million years have admitted it if I hadn't seen for myself that you truly do care, because I assumed that you had stopped caring about me, and about Wade and Ella. But you do care, and even if you think I'm crazy, I'm going to say it anyway. Because it's Christmas, I suppose. And Mr. Kringle would probably tell me that it was the right thing to do…"

"Then know this, Scarlett, it's not completely one-sided. I love you too, and, despite my manifold actions that might have suggested the opposite- I have missed you while I've been away."

She drew in a breath and said the first thing that came to her mind: "I believe, I believe, I believe!"

Rhett laughed. "Believe in what? Miracles? Second chances at happiness?"

"No. Santa Claus. He knew what I wanted for Christmas without me saying a thing."

"This is going to involve a good deal of effort, Mrs. Butler, on both of our parts. And trust, which is something that we both lack. All that is practical within me is urging me to flee, quickly."

"Faith means believing in something, even when common sense tells you not to," Scarlett remembered aloud something that Wade Hampton had said to her as they had left the courthouse.

"Who said that?" Rhett wondered aloud.

"Wade Hampton."

"Smart boy."

"Yes he is. And he happens to be right. Just because things don't turn out the way you thought they would or the way you might have wanted them to the first time, you've still got to believe in people. I found that out, too, thanks to a nice old friend of mine."

She didn't know if she saw it coming, but something within her felt it. Her chin tilted upward and her eyes closed. Then his lips touched hers, and lingered there briefly before, grudgingly, parting.

"Let's go home, Mrs. Butler. I have a bet to collect on."

. . . .

Peachtree Street had become, in the last several years, one of the greenest and most elegant residential areas in Atlanta. The road itself was narrow, and ran betwixt the fine homes which adorned it on either side, each more grand than the previous as the street went on.

Wade nudged Ella, who had fallen asleep on the carriage ride home from the store Christmas party. "Hey, sleepyhead, wake up." She looked up at him reproachfully, like Cinderella being disturbed from waltzing with the prince. "Come on, we're almost home. You can go straight to bed just like Mother said."

Her expression shifted only slightly. "Not sleepy," she murmured before returning her head to his shoulder. "Wanna wait for Mother."

"She's going to be quite some time getting the store back in order," Wade explained. "We'll see her in the morning. It's only seven o'clock or so."

And there it was - home. The Swiss-style chalet with the mansard roof and the stained glass windows that their mother was so proud of. Before the two of them reached the front steps, they saw that Prissy was already at the door, along with Pork and … Uncle Ashley and Beau?

"What are you doing here?" Wade asked, without shaking hands.

"It's a surprise," Beau grinned.

"Your mother hasn't exactly had the time to prepare a Christmas dinner, what with the hubbub with Kris and with the party at the store. We thought that we'd help, didn't we, Beau?" Uncle Ashley explained. "Wash up, both of you. Aunt Pittypat and Uncle Henry are both due to arrive at any moment. I'd like to have everything set before your mother gets here."

"You did all this? And the decorations, too?" Ella asked, her eyes wide as she took in the changes to the room that had occurred in their absence.

"We sure did! Smell the kitchen, Wade, that's turkey cooking, smell it?"

"Turkey?" Wade was surprised. They never had had turkey for Christmas dinner, ever. Roast chicken with gravy was the norm, with the rare exception of swan - that had been the meat course his first Christmas with Uncle Rhett as his stepfather. His mother had been sick as a dog then, and Bonnie had shown up the following summer.

From the kitchen, the sweet aroma of cooking filled his nostrils. Roast turkey and simmering carrots with cinnamon and fresh pies and even the delicious scent of …

"Fried apples, too? My favorite!"

Then, from the front foyer, a voice: "Where is everyone?"

Wade and Ella were there in less than a jiffy. An automatic response to the voice that they both longed to hear more than any in the world.

Wade could feel her arms circling him. "My big boy. And Ella, my baby girl." He could smell the verbena scent that he always associated with his mother…and a man's musk?

"Uncle Rhett!" he cried aloud with pleasure.

"We finally gave up on you," Ella said, having found a resting place for her head on Uncle Rhett's shoulder. Wade's mother kept her arm around his shoulder, and he felt as safe as one freshly born.

"I'm sorry, Ella. So, so, sorry. Can you forgive a foolish old man for being just that?"

"You're not so foolish, Uncle Rhett," Wade's sweet sister replied, shaking her head.

"I am. Very foolish. For you see, I made a bet …"

"The bet!" Ella exclaimed delightedly, "I almost forgot, but you were right, Uncle Rhett! You were right about everything. About Mr. Kringle. Of course…" her voice lost some of her enthusiasm, "…it isn't Christmas yet, and I don't know if he…well…if he could help."

"Is that - Ashley?" Wade heard his mother say. He told himself to forget his irritation, but he didn't want her to get distracted from the moment at hand, not when Uncle Rhett was standing so close to her and touching her shoulder so…lovingly?

"They're cooking a feast, Mother," Ella explained, "and Uncle Henry and Aunt Pitty are both coming, and Beau is here and Dilcey and Pork and Joel. It's like having the whole family together for Christmas."

Wade thought that he noticed Uncle Rhett's eyebrows raise as he exchanged a glance with their mother. "Would you have ever thought that your mean old Uncle Rhett would have missed it? Well, of course you would. And I'm very, very sorry, for ever letting you down. I'll try to do better in the future. That is of course, if…" he cleared his throat, "Princess Katherine Scarlett O'Hara Butler of Castle Tara would be inclined to invite her loathsome ogre of a husband back into the castle?"

"Really? You're kidding me!" Wade heard himself blurt out.

Rhett put a look of mock hurt on his face. "Well, if I am unwanted…"

"No-o-o-o!" said Ella, "We want you to stay, oh please, please, please! You mean it?"

"Ask your mother."

Wade glanced up at his mother, whose face had visibly brightened with pleasure. "Well, I do declare, Captain Butler, what woman could resist such a winsome offer. I suppose we can allow you to stay. What do you say, Wade Hampton, since you've been head of the house for quite some time now?"

Wade felt short an adequate answer, so he sufficed with nodding his head in an enthusiastic Yes.

"Take a good look, my dear," Uncle Rhett addressed Ella, "you've borne witness to a miracle today here in Atlanta. I have managed to beat your mother's Irish-derived common sense by proving legally that a little old man is none other than Santa Claus. Amazing! Now then, that food smells absolutely wonderful. Your Royal Highness, may I have your arm?"

"I wonder if Mr. Kringle will remember the second part of my wish," Ella wondered aloud. "I wouldn't want to seem greedy, of course, but I hope that he does."

"Good Lord, Ella," their mother said affectionately, "what else did you ask Mr. Kringle for?"

"A baby brother," Ella said cheerfully, then marched in the direction of the kitchen.

Wade watched his parents' expressions, first panicked, then accepting, then - kissing. And more kissing. They didn't need an audience, he figured.

Besides, he had his wish, and he had his miracle. All was well on Peachtree Street.