A Jewel in the Dirt - 26. Old Wounds, Fresh Blood II

Dante licked his chapped and swollen lip and grimaced as the taste of blood mingled with that of vomit. You could say what you wanted about Miss Carolyn, but the chubby little woman, hard on her sixties, packed a punch.

"That you can't just keep your mouth shut once." Tom sounded resigned and annoyed in equal measure; when Dante looked at him, he had his face buried in his hands.

"Gratitude isn't exactly one of your strong suits, hmm?" Dante returned and Tom snorted.

"Gratitude? What do I have to be grateful for? Now they're going to whip us both until the flesh falls off our bones." He leaned back and stretched his legs, the chains clanking. Side by side they sat on a narrow cot in a tiny room in the basement, chained to the wall like felons. Dante couldn't tell now, in retrospect, who had raised the voice first in the interrogation for which Miss Carolyn and Miss Britney had dragged him and Tom into the living room. Perhaps Miss Carolyn. Perhaps himself. In any case, they were here now, waiting for Mistress Alice and Blaise to return, who had accompanied Frank to the hospital.

"You'd better pray Alice has a thing for you," Tom added after a pause in which Dante had searched for a retort.

"She certainly doesn't have a thing for you," he said dryly.

"I know," Tom replied no less dryly.

"If Miss Carolyn wants to punish us, she'll have to punish Blaise, too," Dante then muttered defiantly.

"Do you seriously think she's going to punish the only person she cares about within a hundred miles?" Tom grumbled, rubbing his face again.

"You said it yourself: she's protecting Frank."

"You should talk less and listen better. She's only protecting the poor fragile thing when someone might be watching. And talk about punishment she can do a lot."

"Blaise was goofing off."

"So what? We were there and should have been paying attention."

"It was an accident."

"Great Mother, Dante, let it go. Of course it was. But who cares?" They looked at each other, and when Tom reached for his collar meaningfully, Dante lowered his eyes. "Even if it really had been Blaise's fault, I wouldn't believe she'd punish him until he was naked on the whipping post," Tom said surprisingly gently. "She loves him."

"More than her children? That's sad." Dante muttered, though she wouldn't be the first woman to have no feelings left for a son.

Tom shrugged. "She loves Britney because she's tough. And she loves Sarah because she's a good girl and dutifully gave birth to three children."

"A woman is supposed to love men and still punish them," Dante returned, and Tom sighed.

"I don't think that's easy. Have you ever loved anyone?"

"No, why?"

"Then you probably can't understand."

"Then explain it to me."

"Loving someone means not being able to bear it when the person suffers. In other words, it must be an incredible torment to inflict suffering on the one yourself."

"Even if it is just?"

"Love and justice don't go together."

"You sound incredibly bitter, you know that?" Questioningly, Dante looked at Tom, whose mouth corners twitched wearily.

"I probably am..." he admitted.

Half a ton of questions burned on Dante's tongue, but he swallowed them and said simply: "Talking helps."

Quietly and bitterly, Tom laughed; Dante got goosebumps.

"It was just-"

"My ma and I cried when we said goodbye to Simon. He was so brave and almost proudly followed his new mistress. She cried when she put the collar on me and got my papers ready to sell me as debt slave. And I was brave because I knew it had to be. She took me to the Horners because she knew I would be in good hands." Tom paused and only after a sigh that was almost a sob did he continue. "Matthew didn't want me. I loved him- not sexually, don't get me wrong- but like my siblings. No, actually more than that. And he didn't want me. So my ma took me to Carolyn and the first thing she says after my ma leaves is 'He who carries his nose high falls hard and low on his face. Congratulations, Thomas, you've hit the bottom.'"

For a moment Dante was shocked, then he swallowed and said matter-of-factly: "If you guys were really that close, Matthew probably just didn't want to see you suffer."

But Tom shook his head. "You didn't hear him begging his grandma not to take me in." Again, a low, bitter laugh that was more of a sob. "I promised Simon I'd come and get him back soon. Wherever he is now, I think he has it better than me. After all"- now his voice dripped with bitterness- "he was a slave from birth."

Dante shuddered and licked his lip; it had stopped bleeding. "You've been here ten years now, right?"

"Yeah. Ten fucking years. And the only thing I got to hear from time to time was a 'I'm working on the problem, I'll be back for you soon'. Pretty broad definition of soon."

There was a shitload of stuff going through Dante's mind in the aftermath, but Tom had said more than he'd hoped, and he wasn't going to drill down any further. Asshole or not, with those details, he did feel a little sorry for him.

~

Dante was thirsty, tired and desperately needed to pee when the door finally opened and an exhausted-looking Mistress Alice entered. "How is Frank?" he immediately wanted to know, while Tom beside him sat up groaning - he had dozed off.

"According to circumstances." she answered calmly; it could mean anything. "He insists it was an accident and you're not to blame."

"That's not what I meant."

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "The doctors are trying to save what can be saved."

"Which probably isn't much," Tom muttered.

Dante gave him a rib poke. "A little more optimism, please."

"Hey, I grew up right next to a sawmill and worked with wood all my life, how many chopped off fingers do you think I've seen so far?" Tom hissed, suddenly back to perky, and Mistress Alice cleared her throat.

"Tom's right, it doesn't look good. But Pa's taking some of the blame, and Ma..."- she rolled her eyes- "has set the sentence at fifteen lashes for each of you. Non-negotiable."

"I can live with that," Dante said, nodding while Tom snorted.

"Does that mean Blaise gets whipped too, or is that just supposed to sound nice?"

"Well, it sounded like he was supposed to be whipped too, but we'll see, I guess." She shrugged, then looked at Tom a little strangely. "I had a feeling he was more in shock than Frank himself."

"If he hadn't been goofing off, it probably wouldn't have happened," Tom returned, then added pointedly: "But unlike your ma, he really cares about his baby."

Dante snorted. Miss Carolyn had called Frank 'my baby' when she had angrily yelled at Dante and Tom, and it seemed rather ridiculous given the disinterest which normally prevailed.

Mistress Alice grimaced. "Anyway... I just spent an hour arguing with her. Seth is coming to let you guys out later."

"Later? Mistress, please, I really need to go to the bathroom." At Dante's request, Tom started giggling.

"There's a hole in the floor over there."

"Seriously?"

Mistress Alice shrugged. "Either the hole or you wait."

"You've been nicer to me before..."

"My dear Dante, my little brother lost three fingers while you were at each other's throats over some stupid argument. So-"

"Alright, alright!" Apologetically, Dante raised his hands and gave her a contrite smile. "I'm just a spoiled luxury slave."

A tired smile flitted across her face, but she stifled a comment before leaving.

~

This time, only the ladies of the house were present for the whipping, and apart from the snapping and clapping of the whip, it was a frighteningly silent affair. Dante resisted making any sound, Tom did likewise, and Blaise grunted only a few times in pain. Afterward, however, Robert Horner allowed himself an exhausted gasp.

"I'm getting too old for this shit, Miss Mitchell," he said, while Dante hissed at Mistress Alice pressing snow on his welts.

"Then maybe it's time to leave it to the next generation," Miss Carolyn returned, and out of the corner of his eye Dante saw Tom, who was bending over for his clothes lying in the snow, freeze for a second.

Robert grunted. "Nah, Matty's got too soft a heart. Victor could be asked, or the Parker boy, what's his name..."

"No disrespect, but I wouldn't put a whip in Victor's hand for anything in the world," Mistress Alice said coolly.

"No, I'd rather not," Blaise agreed with her with a groan, and Dante briefly wondered what the reason might be before he got snow pressed into the small of his back again and couldn't suppress a whimper. "But Raphael Parker is too squeamish for that. He faints just thinking about it."

"The boys of today can't stand anything," Robert grumbled, and Miss Britney asked conspicuously casually:

"What about Frank?"

For three long heartbeats there was silence as if time had suddenly frozen. Dante's gaze sought that of his mistress, who looked as if she were about to go for her sister's throat. And then it was Miss Sarah who said softly:

"As long as Pa ain't standing here himself, he can do it."

"Your Pa ain't gettin' any younger either, dear," Miss Carolyn said just as gently.

"And Frank's just a boy in an adult's body," Mistress Alice said so sharply that Dante wasn't the only one wincing. "Get the hell dressed, Dante, I have some documents to look over."

"Wh-what documents, Mistress?" he asked in confusion, getting his briefs, which were cold and damp, shoved into his hand by Tom.

"I've been intending to deal with the guardianship application for quite a while now." After an angry glance at her mother, who looked at her dumbfounded, she stomped off.

"Nah..." Robert muttered, sounding like he was talking to himself, "our Matty ain't no match for that one..."

~

"Frank?" Dante knocked on Frank's door a second time. "Hey, it's Dante." He knocked a third time, and then, because there was still no answer, he cautiously opened the door.

Frank was sitting on his bed, his thickly bandaged hand in his lap, staring holes in the floor.

"Frank...?" Dante slipped into the room, pushed the door shut, then sat with Frank, whose eyes seemed like glass marbles. "Hey..."

"Hey..." The reply was so toneless that it was little more than a breeze.

Dante took Frank's healthy arm and wrapped it around himself, snuggling up to him, then asked: "How are you?"

A feeble sigh. "Dunno..." he mumbled. In Dante's humble opinion, Frank should have stayed in the hospital for more than a mere two nights, but his opinion wasn't asked for. He held Frank's healthy hand and closed his eyes for a moment; nausea crept up his throat again as the image of the bloody hand appeared in his mind's eye.

"Are you with me?" he wanted to know quietly.

Frank's fingers twitched, then he gave an approving hum, which didn't really sound convincing. So Dante raised his hand, touched Frank on the beard-stubbled cheek, then made a move to sit on his lap- at least Frank responded by moving his injured hand to his side. He wrapped his arms and legs around Frank, just as Mistress Alice had done to him a while ago, and buried his face in the crook of his neck. Not a minute later, he felt Frank's hot silent tears and squeezed him a little tighter before leaning back and looking Frank in the face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Accident.", Frank mumbled dully, his pupils so large that you could barely see anything of the iris.

"They stuffed you full of painkillers and antibiotics, didn't they?"

A weak nod. At least he returned the hug now, stroking Dante's back with a trembling hand. He seemed like a big forgotten teddy bear, and Dante kissed the tears from his cheeks before placing a kiss on his mouth. Frank's response was noticeably delayed, but Dante was already glad that one came at all, and so they kissed each other tenderly for a moment before being interrupted by a tentative knock.

"Uncle Frank? It's Jessy..."

Hastily, Dante slid off Frank's lap. "Come in..." he said after Frank had nodded weakly.

Jessy opened the door and smiled shyly, clutching a book to herself. Dante felt a tiny bit guilty, because yesterday had been Jessy's ninth birthday, but after the whipping no one in the household had been able to muster much enthusiasm for it. "I thought," she began, "I thought I might read to you from my new book. Aunt Alice gifted it to me."

To Dante's relief, Frank nodded and even forced a smile.

"Here you go, have a seat." Dante stood up and smiled encouragingly at Jessy, who nodded eagerly.

"The Daughters and Sons of the Great Mother." she read emphatically as Dante reached the door. When he glanced back, she ran her finger over the letters.

"Frank, would you like me to bring you up a little something to eat?"

Again he got a feeble nod.

Dante had poured hot broth into a cup and entered the room just as Jessy said eagerly:

"See, that's Dante. There it is written: Dante, the Warrior of Light."

Frank nodded and gave Dante a smile; his eyes still looked glazed over, but at least he wasn't quite so chalky anymore.

"Here, a little broth. Seth said no dairy stuff and no solids until tomorrow night," Dante said, relieved to see Frank's hand shaking only minimally as he accepted the cup.

"'kay..." he mumbled.

"Do you want to listen, Dante? I've skimmed ahead to your namesake." Jessy looked at him expectantly.

"As much as I'd love to listen to you, I still have duties." To that, he smiled apologetically and she nodded.

"Sure."

"Mistress?"

Mistress Alice winced violently. "Great Mother, don't scare me like that! What's up?" She looked tired, tired and worried, Dante thought, and he wondered to what extent she was merely using the guardianship thing as a threat or actually going through with it. Enough official paperwork for that, at least, she had printed out and lying around on her desk.

"Is it possible," he began cautiously, "that the others think Frank can't read?" He knew himself that Frank could, but now that Jessy had been so affectionate about Frank and the story, it occurred to him that working papers also always went to Tom or him, but not to Frank.

Mistress Alice's face contorted in disgust. "Ma thought it would be more useful to have him drive a tractor than to teach him to read again."

"But he can," Dante objected, still guarded.

"I know. I taught him both times."

Silently, they looked at each other until Dante managed to put his thoughts into words and then bring them to his lips: "He really doesn't mean anything to your family, does he?"

She lowered her eyes. "At least not much."

~

"Let me help you, please, you'll hurt yourself."

"Don't treat me like a clumsy child!" Frank hissed and Dante sighed.

"You're injured. Anyone would need help in your place."

But Frank merely growled and tugged his shirt over his head with difficulty. He was clear-headed again, but not in control of his emotions. "Leave me alone!" he hissed again when Dante tried to help him. It wouldn't have taken Mistress Alice's request to do that, but that also meant he couldn't just leave- he didn't want to either.

"You're only hurting yourself!"

"I don't feel anything right now anyway!"

"Frank, stop it..."

Angry tears shimmered in Frank's eyes and as the shirt fell to the floor, so did the first tears. "I'm a cripple..." he muttered.

"Don't say that.", Dante asked gently, but nonetheless kneaded Frank's pajamas in his hands. "You're not left-handed, you can get used to it."

"I need both hands. Not just to work." he said in a quivering voice, and Dante hugged him tightly.

"People can get used to worse things than missing fingers. You're still you."

"I'm worthless," Frank muttered dully, pushing Dante away from him. "I'm just a crippled son."

"Don't-"

"Crippled in body, mind and heart."

"Don't say that, please," Dante begged him gently. "Nobody is worthless. You're not worthless, Frank, don't tell yourself that. Nor are you useless, nor are you unloved." The look that met his eyes made him flinch. It was simultaneously full of hopeless resignation and yet empty.

"I thought I should feel sorry for you because you don't have a family," Frank said quietly, his shoulders slumping and a cold knot forming in Dante's stomach, "but better no family than one like mine."

"Frank..." Desperately, Dante searched for words, but found none.

"Go. Leave me alone."

"Listen, I-"

"Go! Or is it now forbidden to the slaves to even take my orders?" The helpless anger hurt, even if Dante knew it wasn't really directed at him.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to be intrusive," he said quietly, not trusting his own voice, indicating a bow and leaving.

~

Mistress Alice had gone to Frank and when Henry slipped into the slave room, Dante wasn't sure if he should be happy about the company or not. However, when Henry embraced him, the question no longer arose.

"It wasn't your fault," Henry said softly.

"I know. That's not the problem either," Dante muttered back.

"But what is?"

"That I can't help him. That he doesn't want to be helped. That he thinks no one loves him."

"The mistress loves him. And so do you."

Dante winced.

"I mean, you obviously adopted him as much as you adopted me, didn't you?"

A strange giggle escaped Dante; brothers weren't supposed to do things like he and Frank did together. "Yeah, probably."

They were silent for a moment, then Henry said thoughtfully: "It's really amazing how comfortable I feel here. I've only ever had my ma and grandma, and here I have brothers. The girls are like the sisters I always wanted, and Daniel is like a pa even to me."

"That's nice..." Dante said softly. Henry hadn't been here long, but he was pleased that he had found his place so quickly. He envied him a little.

Henry leaned back and looked at him with wide eyes. "Don't you feel that way?"

Tiredly, Dante shrugged. "Sometimes I certainly feel at home here. The slaves here are all considerably more cordial than I'm used to. But... I've changed households so many times that I'm pretty indifferent to it by now."

Henry looked horrified. "But... but everyone..."

"Kiddo, Denser's Port and the upper class there are just different," Dante said, shaking his head to stop Henry's protest. "You don't like your car anymore? Sell it along with the chauffeur. Your friend has a butler with a pretty face? Buy him off her. I've even organized more than once a party where I ended up being given away for a guest."

"Oh, Great Mother!" it escaped Henry in a whisper.

"Every slave there fights for himself or in temporary alliances, for there you are nothing but a job." He shrugged, and now it was Henry who shook his head.

"Don't you even want to feel at home?"

That elicited a smile from Dante. "I suppose we both define that a little differently."

"Don't you want to have a family?"

"Family? As long as I'm here, I'll take care of you and Frank, that's enough." The bewilderment on Henry's face was kind of cute, Dante thought casually. "Whether Mistress Alice sells me or sets me free, I'm not going to spend the rest of my life here."

"Why not?"

"Because I always get sold eventually."

"But if she frees you, you can stay. As an employee, with a salary."

"The possibility is still a long way off," Dante said, wondering a little at his defensive tone. "It's easier and less painful to have no family at all than to have one and lose it. And look at the Mitchells: that's just a family by definition. One more broken than the other. You don't want to be a part of that at all."

"You know, Dante, you're broken too," Henry said sadly after a moment. "Your heart is broken. You're just taking care of Frank and me because you were taught at the children's home to take care of the younger boys, right?"

"I like you both." Dante felt caught off guard by Henry's words.

"I think you were taught a lot of good things there, but love is something the nuns forgot."

"And that's what I have to listen to from a twelve-year-old?"

Henry shrugged. "At least I know what it is like to love and be loved. Maybe not"- he cleared his throat and blushed- "on a sexual level, but at least on a familial one. And love involves pain. I think you're too afraid of pain." Almost expectantly, he looked at Dante, who was at a loss for words. There wasn't a single clear thought in his mind while Henry changed and slipped under the covers.

"No," Henry said so suddenly that he winced, "your heart isn't broken. It's dried up."