Alexandra Ripley - Scarlett

They went home after the sun came up; Scarlett walked the four miles with the rest of the family because she didn’t want the night to end, even though it was now day. And because she was already starting to miss her cousins, all the people she’d met. She was longing to get home, to settle the details about Tara, to begin the work on it, but she was still glad that she’d stayed for May Day. There was only a week left now. It seemed a very short time.

On Wednesday, Frank Kelly, the post rider from Trim, stopped at Matt O’Toole’s for a pipe and a pint. “There’s a bulging letter for Colum O’Hara,” he said. “What do you fancy it could be about?” They speculated pleasantly, and wildly. In America, anything might he true. And they might just as well speculate. Father O’Hara was a friendly man, as everyone agreed, and a grand talker. But when all was said and over, he never told much.

Matt O’Toole didn’t take Colum’s letter to him. There was no need. He knew that Clare O’Gorman was going to visit her old grandmother that afternoon. She’d take the letter, if Colum didn’t stop in before. Matt hefted the envelope in his hand. It must be exceptionally fine news to warrant spending that much money to send such a weight. Or else a truly major disaster.

“There’s post for you, Scarlett. Colum put it on the table. And a cup of tea when you want it. Did you have a pleasant visit with Molly?” Kathleen’s voice was rich with anticipation.

Scarlett didn’t disappoint her. With a giggle in her voice, she described the visit. “Molly had the doctor’s wife with her, and her teacup rattled fit to break when I walked in. She didn’t know whether she could get away with saying I was the new hired girl or not, I reckon. So then the doctor’s wife said in a little fluty voice, ‘Oh, the rich American cousin. What an honor.’ And she didn’t bat an eye at my clothes. Molly jumped up like a scalded cat and rushed over to give me one of her double kisses on the cheek when she heard that. I promise you, Kathleen, she got tears in her eyes when I said I’d only come to fetch a travelling costume out of my trunk. She was just dying for me to stay, no matter what I looked like. I gave her the kiss-kiss when I got ready to leave. And the doctor’s wife, too, for good measure. Might as well go the whole hog.”

Kathleen was bent over with laughter, her sewing dropped in a heap on the floor. Scarlett dropped her travelling suit beside it. She was sure it was going to need easing through the waist. If the baby wasn’t making her thicker through the middle, then wearing easy clothes and eating so much was to blame. Whichever it was, she had no intention of taking the long trip laced so tight she couldn’t breathe.

She picked up the envelope and held it in the doorway so the light could fall on it. It was covered with writing and rubber-stamped dates. Honestly! Her grandfather was the nastiest man in the world. Or else that horrible Jerome was responsible, more likely him. The envelope had gone to her care of her grandfather and he hadn’t sent it to Maureen’s for weeks. She tore it open impatiently. It was from some government bureau in Atlanta, mailed originally to the Peach-tree Street house. She hoped she hadn’t missed paying some tax or something. Between the money to the Bishop for Tara and the cost of the houses she was building, her reserves were getting too low to row money away on late payment penalties. And she was going to need a lot for the work on Tara. Not to mention buying a place for Will. Her fingers touched the pouch beneath her shirt. No, Rhett’s money was Rhett’s money.

The document was dated March 26, 1875. The day she’d sailed from Savannah on the Brian Boru. Scarlett’s eyes skimmed over the first few lines, then stopped. It made no sense. She went back to the beginning and read more slowly. All the color drained from her face. “Kathleen, where’s Colum, do you know?” Why, I sound perfectly ordinary. That’s funny.

“He’s with the Old One, I think. Clare came to get him. Can’t it wait a bit? I’m nearly finished with fixing this dress of mine for Bridie to wear on the voyage, and I know she wants to try it on for you to comment.”

“I can’t wait.” She had to see Colum. Something had gone terribly wrong. They had to leave today, this minute. She had to get home.

Colum was in the yard in front of the cottage. “There’s never been a spring so sunny,” he said. “The cat and I are basking a bit.”

Scarlett’s unnatural calm vanished when she saw him, and she was screaming when she reached his side. “Take me home, Colum. Damn you and all the O’Haras and Ireland. I should never have left home.”

Her hand was clutched painfully, nails biting into flesh. Crumbled in it was a statement from the sovereign state of Georgia that had entered into its permanent records the absolute decree of divorce granted to one Rhett Kinnicutt Butler on the grounds of desertion by his wife, one Scarlett O’Hara Butler, by the Military District of South Carolina administered by the Federal Government of the United States of America.

“There is no divorce in South Carolina,” said Scarlett. “Two lawyers told me so.” She said it again and again, always the same words, until her throat was raw and she could no longer force sound through it. Then her chapped lips formed the words silently while her mind said them. Again and again.

Colum led her to a quiet corner of the vegetable garden. He sat beside her and talked, but he couldn’t make her listen, so he took her clenched hands in his for comfort and stayed quiet beside her. Through the light shower that came with twilight. Through the brilliant sunset. Into the darkness. Bridie came looking for them when supper was ready, and Colum sent her away.

“Scarlett’s off her head, Bridie. Tell them in the house not to worry, she only needs a bit of time to get over the shock. The news came from America: her husband’s grievously sick. She’s afraid he’ll die without her by his side.”

Bridie ran back to report. Scarlett was praying, she said. The family prayed too; their supper was cold when they finally began to eat. “Take a lantern out, Timothy,” said Daniel.

The light reflected from Scarlett’s glazed eyes. “Kathleen sent a shawl, too,” Timothy whispered. Colum nodded, placed it over Scarlett’s shoulders, waved Timothy away.

Another hour went by. Stars glowed in the nearly moonless sky; they were brighter than the light from the lantern. There was a brief small cry from a nearby wheat field, then a nearly soundless flutter of wings. An owl had made a kill.

“What am I to do?” Scarlett’s rasping voice was loud in the darkness. Colum sighed quietly and thanked God. The worst of the shock was over.

“We’ll go home as we planned, Scarlett darling. There’s nothing happened that can’t be remedied.” His voice was calm, certain, soothing.

“Divorced!” There was an alarming rise of hysteria in the cracked sound. Colum chafed her hands briskly.

“What’s done can be undone, Scarlett.”

“I should have stayed. I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Whist, now. Should-haves solve nothing. It’s the next thing to happen that needs thinking about.”

“He’ll never take me back. Not if his heart’s so hard that he’d divorce me. I kept waiting for him to come after me, Colum, I was so sure he would. How could I have been such a fool? You don’t know the all of it. I’m pregnant, Colum. How can I have a baby when I don’t have a husband?”

“There, there,” said Colum quietly. “Doesn’t that take care of it? You’ve only got to tell him.”

Scarlett’s hands flew to her belly. Of course! How could she have been such a fool? Jagged laughter tore at her throat. There was no piece of paper ever written that would make Rhett Butler give up his baby. He could have the divorce cancelled, erased from all the records. Rhett could do anything. He’d just proved it again. There was no divorce in South Carolina. Unless Rhett Butler made up his mind to get one.

“I want to go right now, Colum. There must be a ship sailing earlier. I’ll go crazy waiting.”

“We’re leaving early Friday, Scarlett darling, and the ship sails Saturday. If we go tomorrow there’ll still be a day to fill before the sailing. Wouldn’t you rather spend it here?”

“Oh, no, I’ve got to know I’m going. Even if it’s only partway, I’ll be heading home to Rhett. Everything’s going to work out, I’ll make it work out. It’s going to be all right . . . isn’t it, Colum? Say that it’s going to be all right.”

“That it is, Scarlett darling. You should eat now, at least a cup of milk. With a drop in it, perhaps. You need sleep, too. You have to keep up your strength, for the good of the baby.”

“Oh, yes! I will. I’ll take wonderful care of myself. But first I’ve got to see about my frock, and my trunk needs repacking. And, Colum, how will we find a carriage to get to the train?” Her voice was rising again. Colum got up and pulled her to her feet.

“Ill take care of it, with the help of the girls for the trunk. But only if you’ll eat something while you see to your frock.”

“Yes! Yes, that’s what we’ll do.” She was a little calmer, but still perilously edgy. He’d have to see to it that she drank the milk and whiskey as soon as they reached the house. Poor creature. If only he knew more about women and babies he would feel a lot easier in his mind. She’d been going sleepless and dancing like a dervish of late. Could that bring on a baby too soon? If she lost it, he feared for her reason.

Like so many people before him, Colum underestimated the strength of Scarlett O’Hara. She insisted that her baggage be brought from Molly’s that night, and she gave orders to Brigid to pack her things while Kathleen fitted her frock on her. “Watch the lacing, Bridie,” she said sharply when she put her corset on. “You’re going to have to do this on the ship, and I won’t be able to see behind me to tell you what to do.” Her feverish manner and ragged voice had already put Bridie in a terror. Scarlett’s sharp cry of pain when Kathleen yanked on the laces made Bridie cry out, too.