“I got it right here in my hand.” Prissy elbowed the door open, a tray in front of her. “But Mammy’s sleeping, Miss Scarlett. Do you want to shake her awake to drink her broth?”
“Just keep it covered and set the tray near the stove. I’ll feed her when I get back.” Scarlett felt ravenously hungry. The rich aroma of the steaming broth made her stomach cramp from emptiness.
She washed her face and hands hastily in the kitchen. Her frock was dirty, too, but it would have to do. She’d put on a clean one after she ate.
Will was just getting up from the table when Scarlett entered the dining room. Farmers couldn’t waste time, especially on a day as bright and warm as the one promised by the golden early sun outside the window.
“Can I help you, Uncle Will?” Wade asked hopefully. He jumped up, almost knocking over his chair. Then he saw his mother and his face lost its eagerness. He’d have to stay at table and use his best manners, or she’d be cross. He walked slowly to hold Scarlett’s chair for her.
“What lovely manners you have, Wade,” Suellen cooed. “Good morning, Scarlett. Aren’t you proud of your young gentleman?”
Scarlett looked blankly at Suellen, then at Wade. Good heavens, he was just a child, what on earth was Suellen being so simpering sweet about? The way she was carrying on you’d think Wade was a dancing partner to flirt with.
He was a nice-looking boy, she realized with surprise. Big for his age, too, he looked more like thirteen than not yet twelve. But Suellen wouldn’t think that was so wonderful if she had to buy the clothes he kept growing out of so fast.
Good heavens! What am I going to do about Wade’s clothes? Rhett always does whatever needs doing; I don’t know what boys wear, or even where to shop. His wrists are hanging out of his sleeves, he probably has to have everything in a bigger size. In a hurry, too. School must be starting soon. If it hasn’t already; I don’t even know what the date of today is.
Scarlett sat with a thump in the chair Wade was holding. She hoped he’d be able to tell her what she needed to know. But first she’d eat breakfast. My mouth’s watering so, I feel like I’m gargling. “Thank you, Wade Hampton,” she said absently. The ham looked perfect, richly pink and juicy with crisply browned fat rimming it. She dropped her napkin in her lap without bothering to unfold it and picked up her knife and fork.
“Mother?” Wade said cautiously.
“Um?” Scarlett cut into the ham.
“May I please go help Uncle Will in the fields?”
Scarlett broke a cardinal rule of table manners and talked with food in her mouth. The ham was delicious. “Yes, yes, go on.” Her hands were busy cutting another bite.
“Me, too,” Ella piped up.
“Me, too,” echoed Suellen’s Susie.
“You’re not invited,” said Wade. “Fields are man’s business. Girls stay in the house.”
Susie began to cry.
“Now look what you’ve done!” Suellen said to Scarlett.
“Me? It’s not my child making all that noise.” Scarlett always meant to avoid quarrels with Suellen when she came to Tara, but the habits of a lifetime were too strong. They had begun fighting as babies and had never really stopped.
But I’m not going to let her ruin the first meal I’ve been hungry for in who knows how long, Scarlett said to herself, and she concentrated on swirling butter evenly through the gleaming white mound of grits on her plate. She didn’t even lift her eyes when Wade followed Will out the door and Ella’s wails joined Susie’s.
“Hush up, both of you,” Suellen said loudly.
Scarlett poured ham gravy over her grits, piled grits on a piece of ham, and speared the arrangement with her fork.
“Uncle Rhett would let me go, too,” Ella sobbed.
I won’t listen, thought Scarlett, I’ll just close my ears and enjoy my breakfast. She put ham and grits and gravy in her mouth.
“Mother… Mother, when is Uncle Rhett coming to Tara?” Ella’s voice was sharply piercing. Scarlett heard the words in spite of herself, and the rich food turned to sawdust in her mouth. What could she say, how could she answer Ella’s question? “Never.” Was that the answer? She couldn’t, wouldn’t believe it herself. She looked at her red-faced daughter with loathing. Ella had ruined everything. Couldn’t she have left me alone at least long enough to eat my breakfast?
Ella had the ginger-colored curly hair of her father, Frank Kennedy. It stuck out around her tear-blotched face like rusted coils of wire, always escaping from the tight braids Prissy plaited, no matter how much she slicked it down with water. Ella’s body was like wire, too, skinny and angular. She was older than Susie, almost seven compared to Susie’s six and a half, but Susie was half a head taller already and so much heftier that she could bully Ella with impunity.
No wonder Ella wants Rhett to come, Scarlett thought. He really cares for her, and I don’t. She gets on my nerves just like Frank did, and no matter how hard I try I just can’t love her.
“When’s Uncle Rhett coming, Mother?” Ella asked again. Scarlett pushed her chair away from the table and stood up.
“That’s grown-ups’ business,” she said. “I’m going to see to Mammy.” She couldn’t bear to think about Rhett now, she’d think about all that later, when she wasn’t so upset. It was more important—much more—to coax Mammy into swallowing her broth.
“Just one more little spoonful, Mammy darling, it’ll make me happy.”
The old woman turned her head away from the spoon. “Tired,” she sighed.
“I know,” said Scarlett, “I know. Go to sleep, then, I won’t pester you any more.” She looked down at the almost full bowl. Mammy was eating less and less every day.
“Miss Ellen…” Mammy called weakly.
“I’m here, Mammy,” Scarlett replied. It always hurt when Mammy didn’t know her, when she thought the hands that tended her so lovingly were the hands of Scarlett’s mother. I shouldn’t let it bother me, Scarlett told herself every time. It was always Mother who took care of the sick, not me. Mother was kind to everyone, she was an angel, she was a perfect lady. I should take it as praise to be mistook for her. I expect I’ll go to hell for being jealous that Mammy loved her best… except that I don’t much believe in hell any more… or heaven either.
“Miss Ellen…”
“I’m here, Mammy.”
The old, old eyes opened half way. “You ain’t Miss Ellen.”
“It’s Scarlett, Mammy, your very own Scarlett.”
“Miss Scarlett… I wants Mist’ Rhett. Something to say…”
Scarlett’s teeth cut into her lip. I want him, too, she was crying silently. So much. But he’s gone, Mammy. I can’t give you what you want.
She saw that Mammy had slipped into a near-coma again, and she was fiercely grateful. At least Mammy was free of pain. Her own heart was aching as if it were full of knives. How she needed Rhett, especially now, with Mammy sliding ever faster down the slope to death. If he could just be here, with me, feeling the same sorrow I feel. For Rhett loved Mammy, too, and Mammy loved him. He’d never worked so hard to win anyone over in his life, Rhett said, and he’d never cared as much for anyone’s opinion as he did Mammy’s. He’d be broken-hearted when he learned that she was gone, he’d wish so much that he’d been able to say goodbye to her…
Scarlett’s head lifted, her eyes widened. Of course. What a fool she was being. She looked at the wizened old woman, so small and weightless under the quilts. “Oh, Mammy, darling, thank you,” she breathed. “I came to you for help, for you to make everything all right again, and you will, just the way you always did.”
She found Will in the stable rubbing down the horse.
“Oh, I’m so glad to find you, Will,” Scarlett said. Her green eyes were sparkling, her cheeks flushed with natural color instead of the rouge she usually wore. “Can I use the horse and buggy? I need to go to Jonesboro. Unless maybe—You weren’t fixing to go to Jonesboro yourself for anything, were you?” She held he
r breath while she waited for his answer.
Will looked at her calmly. He understood Scarlett better than she realized. “Is there something I can do for you? If I was planning to go to Jonesboro, that is.”
“Oh, Will, you are a dear, sweet thing. I’d so much rather stay with Mammy, yet still I really need to let Rhett know about her. She’s asking for him, and he’s always been so fond of her, he’d never forgive himself if he let her down.” She fiddled with the horse’s mane. “He’s in Charleston on family business; his mother can barely draw breath without asking Rhett’s advice.”
Scarlett looked up, saw Will’s expressionless face, then looked away. She began to braid pieces of the mane, staring at her work as if it were of vital importance. “So if you’ll just send a telegram, I’ll give you the address. And you’d better make it from you, Will. Rhett knows how I adore Mammy. He’s liable to think I was exaggerating how sick she is.” She lifted her head and smiled brilliantly. “He thinks I haven’t any more sense than a June bug.”
Will knew that was the biggest lie of all. “I think you’re right,” he said slowly. “Rhett should come as soon as he can. I’ll ride over right away; horseback’s quicker than a rig.”
Scarlett’s hands relaxed. “Thank you,” she said. “I have the address in my pocket.”
“I’ll be back in time for dinner,” said Will. He lifted the saddle down from its stand. Scarlett helped him with it. She felt full of energy. She was sure Rhett would come. He could be at Tara in two days if he left Charleston as soon as he got the wire.
But Rhett didn’t come in two days. Or three or four or five. Scarlett stopped listening for the sound of wheels or hoof beats on the drive. She had worn herself ragged, straining to hear. And now there was another sound that took all her attention, the horrible rasping noise that was Mammy’s effort to breathe. It seemed impossible that the frail, wasted body could summon the strength needed to draw air into her lungs, push it out again. But she did, time after time, the cords on her wrinkled neck thick and quivering.
Suellen joined Scarlett’s vigil. “She’s my Mammy, too, Scarlett.” The life-long jealousies and cruelties between them were forgotten in their joint need to help the old black woman. They brought down all the pillows in the house to prop her up, and kept the croup kettle steaming constantly. They spread butter on her cracked lips, spooned sips of water between them.
But nothing eased Mammy’s struggles. She looked at them with pity. “Don’t wear yo’selves out,” she gasped. “Nothin’ you kin do.”
Scarlett put her fingers across Mammy’s lips. “Hush,” she begged. “Don’t try to talk. Save your strength.” Why, oh why, she raged silently to God, why couldn’t You let her die easy, when she was wandering in the past? Why did You have to wake her up and let her suffer so? She was good all her life, always doing for other people, never anything for herself. She deserves better than this, I’ll never bow my head to You again as long as I live.
But she read aloud to Mammy from the worn old Bible on the nightstand by the bed. She read the psalms, and her voice gave no sign of the pain and impious anger in her heart. When night came, Suellen lit the lamp and took over from Scarlett, reading, turning the thin pages, reading. Then Scarlett took her place. And again Suellen, until Will sent her to get some rest. “You, too, Scarlett,” he said. “I’ll sit with Mammy. I’m not much of a reader, but I know a lot of the Bible by heart.”
“You recite then. But I’m not leaving Mammy. I can’t.” She sat on the floor and leaned her tired back against the wall, listening to the terrifying sounds of death.
When the first thin light of day showed at the windows, the sounds suddenly became different, each breath more noisy, longer silences between them. Scarlett scrambled to her feet. Will rose from the chair. “I’ll get Suellen,” he said.
Scarlett took his place beside the bed. “Do you want me to hold your hand, Mammy? Let me hold your hand.”
Mammy’s forehead creased with effort. “So… tired.”
“I know, I know. Don’t tire yourself more by talking.”
“Wanted… to wait for… Mist’ Rhett.”
Scarlett swallowed. She couldn’t weep now. “You don’t need to hang on, Mammy. You can rest. He couldn’t come.” She heard hurried footsteps in the kitchen. “Suellen’s on her way. And Mister Will. We’ll all be here with you, darling. We all love you.”
A shadow fell across the bed, and Mammy smiled.
“She wants me,” said Rhett. Scarlett looked up at him, unbelieving. “Move over,” he said gently. “Let me get near Mammy.”
Scarlett stood, feeling the nearness of him, the bigness, the strength, the maleness, and her knees were weak. Rhett pushed past her and knelt by Mammy.
He had come. Everything was going to be all right. Scarlett knelt beside him, her shoulder touching his arm, and she was happy in the midst of her heartbreak about Mammy. He came, Rhett’s here. What a fool I was to give up hope like that.
“I wants you to do something for me,” Mammy was saying. Her voice sounded strong, as if she had saved her strength for this moment. Her breathing was shallow and fast, almost panting.
“Anything, Mammy,” Rhett said. “I’ll do anything you want.”
“Bury me in my fine red silk petticoat what you gived me. See to it. I know that Lutie got her eye on it.”
Rhett laughed. Scarlett was shocked. Laughter at a deathbed. Then she realized that Mammy was laughing, too, without sound.
Rhett put his hand on his heart. “I swear to you that Lutie won’t even get a look at it, Mammy. I’ll make sure it goes with you to Heaven.”
Mammy’s hand reached for him, gesturing his ear closer to her lips. “You take care of Miss Scarlett,” she said. “She needs caring, and I can’t do no more.”
Scarlett held her breath.
“I will, Mammy,” Rhett said.
“You swear it.” The command was faint, but stern.
“I swear it,” said Rhett. Mammy sighed quietly.
Scarlett let her breath out with a sob. “Oh, Mammy darling, thank you,” she cried. “Mammy—”
“She can’t hear you, Scarlett, she’s gone.” Rhett’s big hand moved gently across Mammy’s face, closing her eyes. “That’s a whole world gone, an era ended,” he said softly. “May she rest in peace.”
“Amen,” said Will from the doorway.
Rhett stood, turned. “Hello, Will, Suellen.”
“Her last thought was for you, Scarlett,” Suellen cried. “You were always her favorite.” She began to weep loudly. Will took her in his arms, patting her back, letting his wife wail against his chest.
Scarlett ran to Rhett and held her arms up to embrace him. “I’ve missed you so,” she said.
Rhett circled her wrists with his hands and lowered her arms to her sides. “Don’t, Scarlett,” he said. “Nothing’s changed.” His voice was quiet.
Scarlett was incapable of such restraint. “What do you mean?” she cried loudly.
Rhett winced. “Don’t force me to say it again, Scarlett. You know full well what I mean.”
“I don’t know. I don’t believe you. You can’t be leaving me, not really. Not when I love you and need you so awfully. Oh, Rhett, don’t just look at me that way. Why don’t you put your arms around me and comfort me? You promised Mammy.”
Rhett shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “You are such a child, Scarlett. You’ve known me all these years, and yet, when you want to, you can forget all you’ve learned. It was a lie. I lied to make a dear old woman’s last moments happy. Remember, my pet, I’m a scoundrel, not a gentleman.”
He walked toward the door.
“Don’t go, Rhett, please,” Scarlett sobbed. Then she put both hands over her mouth to stop herself. She’d never be able to respect herself if she begged him again. She turned her head sharply, unable to bear the sight of him leaving. She saw the triumph in Suellen’s eyes and the pity in Will’s.
“He’ll be back,” she
said, holding her head high. “He always comes back.” If I say it often enough, she thought, maybe I’ll believe it. Maybe it will be true.
“Always,” she said. She took a deep breath. “Where’s Mammy’s petticoat, Suellen? I intend to see to it that she’s buried in it.”
Scarlett was able to stay in control of herself until the dreadful work of bathing and dressing Mammy’s corpse was done. But when Will brought in the coffin, she began to shake. Without a word she fled.
She poured a half glass of whiskey from the decanter in the dining room and drank it in three burning gulps. The warmth of it ran through her exhausted body, and the shaking stopped.
I need air, she thought. I need to get out of this house, away from all of them. She could hear the frightened voices of the children in the kitchen. Her skin felt raw with nerves. She picked up her skirts and ran.
Outside the morning air was fresh and cool. Scarlett breathed deeply, tasting the freshness. A light breeze lifted the hair that clung to her sweaty neck. When had she last done her hundred strokes with the hairbrush? She couldn’t remember. Mammy would be furious. Oh—She put the knuckles of her right hand into her mouth to contain her grief and stumbled through the tall grasses of the pasture, down the hill to the woods that bordered the river. The high-topped pines smelled sharply sweet; they shaded a soft thick mat of bleached needles, shed over hundreds of years. Within their shelter, Scarlett was alone, invisible from the house. She crumpled wearily onto the cushioned ground, then settled herself in a sitting position with a tree trunk at her back. She had to think; there must be some way to salvage her life from the ruins; she refused to believe different.
But she couldn’t keep her mind from jumping around. She was so confused, so tired.
She’d been tired before. Worse tired than this. When she had to get to Tara from Atlanta, with the Yankee army on all sides, she hadn’t let tired stop her. When she had to forage for food all over the countryside, she hadn’t given up because her legs and arms felt like dead weights pulling on her. When she picked cotton until her hands were raw, when she hitched herself to the plow like she was a mule, when she had to find strength to keep going in spite of everything, she hadn’t given up because she was tired. She wasn’t going to give up now. It wasn’t in her to give up.
Scarlett: The Sequel to Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind Page 3
