A Jewel in the Dirt - 23. The Appearance of Normality

"But Ma, I'm not a little kid anymore!" Frank's querulous voice belied his statement.

"As long as you behave worse than Jack, you can tell me whatever you want," Miss Carolyn returned gruffly.

Dante didn't want to hear the discussion. Frank was a mystery to him. What was he? Was there really a child stuck in the body of a grown man? Had this child- perhaps even indeed by an unconscious impulse on Dante's part- become a teenager? He didn't know. When he thought of Frank whispering lewd things to him in a deep raspy voice, he felt hot, but at the childish tone reaching his ears, he got goose bumps.

"Dante."

He winced, only now realizing that he had been staring at the closed door with complete impassivity.

"Come here." Mistress Alice's voice was calm and almost gentle, obediently Dante turned around and registered with surprise that she was sitting on the bed. Oh. She patted promptingly beside her, but didn't look like she wanted to include certain services in his punishment.

He sat down by her, noticed the tension in her posture, and stiffened himself in response.

"I know what you think of me," she said quietly after a moment. "I'm a bad mistress."

Inwardly, Dante shook his head, for although she had done wrong in this matter- at least in his eyes- she was still otherwise so much better than many other mistresses; outwardly, he merely responded by looking her in the eye.

She lowered her gaze and then surprised Dante by reaching for his hand- she seemed to be holding onto it. "I've been in therapy. Because of Anthony." she whispered, her fingers twitching. "I don't even remember the first one, but I did the second one on my own accord, paid for it myself. But there's no talking about him here, not even during Hella, so... so how are you supposed to know if the therapy is helping anything if you're not confronted with it outside the protective environment of the therapy room?" She tugged - apparently unconsciously - on Dante's fingers, and though it made him uncomfortable, he didn't move an inch.

He looked at her, trying to read her face, but there was a strange astonishment in it, half hidden by a few loosened strands; he almost raised his free hand to brush those strands behind her ear, but he didn't want to interrupt her.

"I can feel it boiling inside me, the anger, the bewilderment, the helplessness." She squeezed Dante's hand firmly. "I can see it, the same childlike anxious anticipation and yet uncertainty... the not understanding... though Henry understands and Frank didn't understand then."

Dante would have loved to know what Mistress Alice saw in her mind's eye at that moment, she seemed so fragile and all at once he felt ashamed for having met her so roughly on this traumatic subject.

When she continued speaking after a moment of silence, however, her voice was much firmer: "I could have done it, on my own, you know... if you had just given me a few days instead of jumping right in."

"I'm sorry." he said, adjusting to her volume. He meant it sincerely and now returned her squeeze of the hand. "You trusted me with Henry and-" The words were stuck in his throat as she lifted her eyes, tears shimmering in them.

"I'm sorry. I'm a walking disaster."

"No, mistress, that's not true," Dante whispered immediately. The desire to kiss the tears away flashed through him, but that would have been completely inappropriate, so he wiped them away with his sleeve and then pulled his trembling mistress to him. "We all have our faults and weak points."

She buried her face against his shoulder and sobbed quietly.

"Please, talk to Henry," he begged, stroking her hair.

"Yes, of course." A moment later she slid onto his lap, wrapped her arms and legs around him, and began to cry unrestrained. There was absolutely nothing sensual about it, and Dante felt a certain disappointment rise within him as it slowly dawned on him that this would probably never change. Not because she fundamentally wouldn't get into bed with slaves, but rather because he probably represented some sort of fraternal friend to her.

He held her until she calmed down and leaned back; despite her tear-stained face, he thought she was beautiful.

"Five years of service. F-five years and then you're free," she murmured.

"Why?" he wanted to know, half curious, half filled with unease at the prospect.

"Because... because I'm sure there's a woman out there somewhere who would love to have a man like you by her side."

Involuntarily a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and almost too late he redirected his unconscious movement so that he kissed her on the forehead rather than the mouth. "That's a lovely thought," he whispered, acknowledging her intentions.

They stayed like that for a moment, then she rose and stood swaying, frail and shoulders drooping, before going into the bathroom.

With a deep sigh, Dante expelled the air. Suddenly he had to agree with Charles: if Mistress Alice was still letting her grief consume her, and Matthew was really as weighed down by his duties and responsibilities as it seemed, they probably wouldn't make a good couple. But alas, for Dante, it wouldn't make any difference at all.

~

"This place looks like a dump!" Blaise grumbled bad-temperedly, stomping outside.

Tom, arms folded in front of his chest, rolled his eyes, Frank, hands buried deep in his pockets, grimaced, and Dante, leaning casually against a workbench, sighed.
"Why is he only noticing this now of all days?"

Tom gave a grunt. "Because he ordered a new piece of machinery and now he can't find room for it."

"Again?" Frank grumbled, looking at Tom as if it was his fault.

"Ask your old man about it," Tom returned gruffly. For the past few days Dante had been allowed to work with the two of them again, and all the while he had the feeling that a solid argument was brewing between them. As to why, he could only puzzle over it, because Frank was somehow withdrawn from him as well. Accordingly, he grabbed a broom and started sweeping up the sawdust, while Frank tossed wood lying around into baskets and boxes with much fanfare in the background.

"Well..."

Dante got a provocative slap on the butt and winced- because he was currently half hanging under a workbench, wiping away cobwebs and sawdust alike, he bumped his head hard in the process. "Ouch!" He crawled back out into the open, and as Frank grinned cheekily at him, he stuck his tongue out at him. "You're pretty naughty." he then teased.

"I'm not at all!" Frank's tone and sudden pout told Dante that Tom must have come up behind him.

"I bet you are," he returned, jabbing a finger against Frank's chest.

"What did he do?", Tom wanted to know, amused.

"Scared me." Dante grumbled, rubbing the sore spot. It was another one of those moments where Frank rattled him.

Tom moved closer, ruffled Frank's hair, then cupped his face. "Be nice to Dante, or your sister will take him away from us once again."

A very strange expression, coupled with a glowing blush, settled on Frank's face before he broke away and hurried off.

Dante's face contorted into a grimace; after all, Frank knew nothing of Tom and him and, on the other hand, Tom knew nothing of Frank and him. The wording was- unless it fell on innocent children's ears- a bit unfortunate.

"Oh.", Tom made in dismay.

"Hmm?" Dante tried to get his facial muscles under control.

"Does he know what happened between us?", Tom wanted to know quietly.

"Not that I know of." Weakly, Dante shrugged. "Why?"

"He seemed almost... jealous."

Dante hadn't thought that far ahead. "Maybe it was just your touch," he said hastily.

Now Tom was turning pale. "Oh, please don't..."

"You did make it pretty clear to him that you like men..."

"And it would explain why he's been so strange lately. Oh Great Mother, please no." Tom looked horrified by the idea, which Dante would have found almost amusing had he not been able to understand Tom's reaction, at least in part.

"He's growing up," Dante said, continuing to strive for a light tone.

"He's like a little brother to me!" A subtle tremor crept into Tom's voice and Dante, feeling a touch of malice in this somehow absurd situation, couldn't help saying:

"Well, at least he looks enough like Blaise to-"

"Don't you dare!" Tom hissed, the uncertainty wiped away.

Dante raised his hands apologetically, then turned back to cleaning without further comment.

"The boy belongs in therapy, not under the covers with naked guys!" Tom said fiercely after a moment, and Dante prayed he didn't see the blush come to his face.

~

Happy laughter emanated from the kitchen, and when Dante entered, he was baffled. Mikey, Maisie and Jessy sat at the table in harmony, cleaning vegetables, obviously giggling about something. In the meantime, Henry and Seth were tending to a huge piece of meat and seemed highly focused.

"Looks like you don't need me here at all," Dante said.

"No, stay and sit down!" Jessy exclaimed immediately.

Smiling devotedly, he nodded- had she been a few years older, her enthusiastic interest in him and her glances would have worried him- and went to get a board and a knife. "What happened to your hair?" he wanted to know from Maisie, whose usually untamed curls were in a real, ladylike hairstyle- adorned with little-girl barrettes, but still strikingly different.

"T'was Henry." she declared gracefully, and Mikey rolled his eyes.

Henry turned at the mention of his name and Dante looked at him questioningly as he pointed to Maisie. The boy blushed. "My ma's a hairdresser and I used to play with her practice heads a lot..."

"Looks good.", Dante said impressed and meant it, which caused Henry's cheeks to take on an even darker tone.

"Thanks..." he muttered.

"Mikey, help Henry with the meat, please. Dante, a word.", Seth suddenly said, nodding to Dante, who followed him out into the hallway, a little surprised.

"What's up?"

"Henry's soaking up all kitchen knowledge like a sponge," the house overseer said gravely. "But Miss Sarah and the baby are coming home soon and the girls have taken a liking to Henry- the age gap isn't big and he seems to like doing their hair or playing with them. I'd like to have him support Daniel."

"Fine by me," Dante returned, glad to see Henry well accepted after the initial difficulties. "But you'd better discuss that with our mistress."

"I know. But I want you to keep an eye on Henry."

"How so? I work outside."

"I also meant more... talking to him. And that sort of thing." Seth punctuated his words with a corresponding gesture, and Dante puffed out his cheeks indignantly.

"Henry's still kid enough to play happily with dolls, Seth! And the girls are only eight and nine!"

"I know, I know!" said Seth placatingly. "But he's a boy, puberty hits him sooner or later, you see how Mikey is on certain days, and your mistress lets him run around without a cage."

Dante gave a growly sigh.

"Dante, please. One stupid comment is enough to cost us all our heads."

"It's okay, I'll talk to him..."

At bedtime, Dante sat down on their bed of mattresses and asked the Great Mother for guidance.

Henry sat down hesitantly, looking at him awkwardly. "Did I do something wrong?" he wanted to know anxiously.

"No." Dante shook his head, wanting to smile reassuringly, and couldn't. The conversation with Seth had left a nasty aftertaste, so he said straightforwardly: "Since you offered yourself to me, I assume you've been told what sex is."

With his head turning bright red, Henry nodded and began to fiddle with the hem of his pajamas.

"Are you interested in that sort of things?"

A vigorous shake of his head.

"You can talk to me, you know. About anything. Can ask all the questions in the world."

A sheepish nod.

"I mean it, Henry." Gently, Dante touched him on the arm and got a shy look. "You're lucky to be able to walk around without a cage. I've been squeezed into one all my life, so I couldn't do it at all when I was called for it. Be honest with yourself, will you?"

Another shy nod, but with more emphasis.

"All right, then, let's go to sleep."

A minute later, Dante was surprised at the innocence and trust with which Henry snuggled up to him, his doll in his arms. He said nothing and Dante kissed him on the hair, wrapping an arm around him.

It felt great to be a big brother.

~

Brushing his damp hair out of his forehead, Dante stepped out into the hallway and almost ran into Daniel, who was pacing back and forth with tiny Sebastian in his arms. "Sorry!" Dante whispered, not wanting to wake the baby if he was asleep.

But Daniel beamed. "Would you like to hold him?"

"Uh..." Miss Sarah and Sebastian had been back since yesterday, and Dante was fully content to watch the little boy from a distance and take off when he cried. "I'll pass. Really, he's better off with you."

"Oh come on, they're not as fragile as they look. I know what I'm talking about." So Daniel spoke, unceremoniously pushing the baby into Dante's arms. He gave a series of merging sounds of surprise and doubt, and allowed Daniel to carefully position his hands on the tiny body.

"H-hello, little guy." he mumbled a little stupidly.

Sebastian looked at him with dark blue eyes, then closed them again.

"You look as scared as Maisie did when she first got to hold Jack." Daniel grinned, drunk with happiness, and Dante smiled wryly.

"I've never held a baby before," he said.

"Not even in the home where you came from?"

"No, I was too impetuous a child."

Sebastian chuckled softly.

"You're a good guy, good looking... you'll have kids of your own someday, I'm sure," Daniel then said in a warm, cordial tone which surprised Dante.

"I don't know..."

"If you don't end up like Jordan, it's a lovely thing..."

That didn't make it any better, and with a forced smile, Dante handed Daniel back his son. "I... uh... have to go take care of dinner with the others." He hurried away and almost fell down the stairs. Thinking of the unquestioning love a young child like Jack had for his father, he wasn't sure his heart could stand being flooded with love like that. Whether he, like Daniel, would have enough love for several children. This tiny, helpless creature...

He shuddered and pushed the thought far away. He had never slept with a woman and since that would probably not change in the next few years, the thought would be forlorn hope anyway.

~

"How's Henry doing?", Mistress Alice wanted to know, reading the label of a body lotion and looking a little disinterested.

"Good." Dante, holding her shopping basket, sighed inwardly. "Did Seth talk to you?"

"Yes. What do you say?"

"Henry's just a kid who needs a doll to fall asleep. Not that I know anything about kids, but I think he's a long way from that kind of thinking."

"You were twelve once, too."

"I was a late bloomer."

"Henry might be, too. Or he's different in general. I don't remember Anthony or Frank ever picking up a doll or hairbrush willingly."

"Did you play with dolls?"

She looked confused, then suddenly smiled. "No. I climbed trees with the boys and drove Ma to despair because I'd rather watch with Anthony and Matthew as his Pa fixed mechanical things than learn my prayers. She would have liked me to become a priestess."

This stunned Dante immensely. Silently, he followed her through the drugstore, pondering how different her life would be had it not been for this accident.

"I was actually going to- oh, damn." In her grab for razor blades, she had accidentally thrown a pack of condoms to the floor, which she now picked up. "Really, why do they make these things flavored?"

"Maybe because artificial strawberry is still better than... cum?" he speculated cautiously.

"Anything tastes better than that, but does that mean you have to suck on plastic?"

There was something abstract about the conversation, yet Dante suddenly felt very warm.

Mistress Alices put the package away and reached for the razor blades again.

"You don't have to go all the way..." he muttered vaguely, wishing he was wearing his cage. Despite all the layers of clothing, he felt strangely exposed as his blood flowed incessantly downward.

"Of course you don't. But isn't it actually about the appeal of bare skin? I'm not a man, but I'm sure no matter how big the print of 'ultrasensitive' is on there, it still feels different." As if to punctuate her words, she took a regular pack of condoms off the shelf.

"I can't tell..." muttered Dante, highly embarrassed. And then he got wide-eyed as she tossed the condoms and a bottle of lube into the basket. "What do you want with those?"

"They're for you." She smiled happily.

"But I don't need any at all..." he protested weakly.

"Frank asks questions, doesn't he? Then show him how to use them." Unconcerned, she went on.

"I don't know that myself."

"You're a smart one, Dante. Oh, and while you're at it, teach Henry, too."

"Yes, mistress..." he murmured in surrender. Did she suspect something? He couldn't imagine that she did. But he couldn't figure out any other way to explain why she didn't just give him some of the admittedly unnecessarily large supply from her nightstand.

"I was thinking of traveling with Ellen for a couple of days," Mistress Alice then said later as they strolled down Townsend's shopping street.

"Yeah? Where to?"

"I don't know. Just get away from here for a while."

Dante nodded thoughtfully; it would do her good, he was sure of it. "This year?"

"Yes, before the Festival of Lights." She seemed to want to say more, but her gaze was glued to a shop window and Dante's face contorted. Lingerie. Not that one, too. She promptly dragged him into the store with her.

"Who are you trying to impress with this?" he wanted to know, watching her scan through colorful bras and panties with nimble fingers.

"No one. But most of the stuff I have Val gave me and I can't stand to see it right now."

"I see." he muttered, folding his hands in front of his body like a well-behaved slave, praying it didn't draw more attention to himself. He was uncomfortable, embarrassed, that his mistress had been messing with his mind so much lately. There were moments when just seeing her nipples pushing through the fabric was enough to catapult his thoughts quite far away.
And now she was asking him to adjust bra straps and pick out panties. He was sweating up a whole lake.

As they left the store and Mistress Alice checked the bill, Dante seriously considered slipping into bed with Frank that evening. He couldn't bear Henry's innocent cuddles in that state. He was about to make a casual remark about it when a little further on Matthew stepped out of an electronics store and spotted them immediately.

"Mistress-"

"Which set do you like better? The green one or the red one?" she asked cutting in between, inspecting the lingerie in such a way that Matthew, presumably already within earshot, could moreover also read which store name was printed on the bag.

"Bad timing," Dante muttered, and she looked up.

"Oh. Hi, Matthew."

Matthew looked like he wanted to run away. "Hey, Alice... you... uh..." he swallowed hard and Dante took pity, "been shopping?" Awkwardly, he pointed at the bag.

"Yeah... you know, I want to throw away all the stuff Val gave me." She pushed the bag into Dante's hand and then linked arms with Matthew.

Dante had no choice but to follow behind.

"His taste is terrible. I mean, pink?" continued Mistress Alice unconcernedly, and judging by Matthew's face, he felt like Dante did just moments ago in the store.

"I'd say dark colors suit you better," Matthew said bravely and approvingly she beamed at him; Dante stifled a grin. Without all the problematic background, the two of them were kind of cute.

"How are you?" she then changed the subject. "I hear you've been in town quite a bit lately."

"Yeah, well... someone's got to take care of things." Matthew shrugged. "Uncle Robert likes it best when he doesn't have to leave the farm at all, and Pa's busier... uh... watching over the slaves than worrying about little things like that." What he had actually meant to say was obvious, Dante thought, and Mistress Alice raised a brow.

"Well, at least he's faithful to your ma till death." she remarked dryly, and Matthew blushed.

"We took an oath."

"I know." She patted his arm.

Dante might merely be an uninvolved spectator and not know either actor well, but the glance the two exchanged told him clearly how serious Matthew secretly was and that Mistress Alice was aware of it, too.