A Jewel in the Dirt - 27. Gloomy Moods

"Would you have the courtesy to tell me why you've been walking around like a sleepwalker and hiding here in the bathroom for over an hour now?"

Dante lowered his head instead of answering.

"Henry looked like he was about to burst into tears, and Pa probably wouldn't be pleased if there was another work accident right away," Mistress Alice continued. She stepped up beside him, looked out into the darkness, and then put a hand on his arm. "Dante..."

He sighed. The truth you don't want to hear is the most painful, isn't it? "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what? Come on, Dante, talk to me."

He sighed again. Henry's words yesterday had hurt him deeply, and along with what Tom had told him, he was now really questioning the extent to which he was capable of love. Sure, there had been the daughter of one of his mistresses, but what he himself called having a crush might have been nothing more than hormone-driven teenage behavior to others and might have vanished into thin air if the cage had simply been removed from him. His pause for reflection was probably too long, because now Mistress Alice sighed.

"Is it because of Frank? Are you blaming yourself?"

Irritated, he looked at her. "No. No, it's something else..." He licked his lips and decided that he should stick to his own advice that talking helped. His words came haltingly, hesitantly, and he felt that there couldn't really be any point in them, but Mistress Alice's serious, attentive gaze kept him talking until, in the end, he had said a great deal more than he had intended.

"Love, my dear Dante, is something very individual," Mistress Alice said after giving his explanation time to sink in. "Each person gives love differently and feels differently what is given to him; it's called love language. Val, for example, is a very material person who expresses himself through gifts and finds the highest fulfillment in getting gifts. Sarah is very physical- and this refers not only to sex, but more generally to things like cuddling or hugs, small touches that have no meaning to others. There are those who express affection more quietly, in small gestures and attentions, and for whom sometimes just a kind word can be enough. That you are incapable of love I think is nonsense."

Dante looked at her in wonder, but did not interrupt her in her speech.

"Don't take Henry's words to heart like that, please, because first of all, he's only twelve, and secondly, he grew up completely different from you. And he's probably read a few too many trashy romance novels." She sighed a little theatrically and then gave him a smile before patting his chest.

"You think...?" he murmured, and her smile faded.

"You're upper class and it's been drilled into you that your duty is paramount. That in concert with the nuns' upbringing, the values they instilled in you, what you've seen and experienced..." She paused, eyeing him, and a strange fear of how she would judge him began to burn in his chest. "Your heart hasn't dried up, Dante, you've only built a thick wall of protection around it. And that can be torn down with patience and a strong will, from the outside as well as the inside." Her smile returned. "I assume you don't believe me, but I really do plan to keep you until I can free you. You can make the most of the time. Allow yourself to become a part of this family. Find out what touches you."

"If you really want to free me, what do you want me to do after that?" he wanted to know in a throaty voice, deliberately skipping over what she had said last.

"Well, you can certainly negotiate with Ma and stay here. Or you can start over somewhere else. It's your decision alone then. But there's still almost five years to go."

He nodded mutely. She was right that he didn't really believe her, but maybe all he really needed was time. Time to process her words now, too. Time to think about himself.

"Henry is right about one thing, though: pain is part of it. Not just to love, but to life in general." she said then, leaning back against the windowsill.

They looked at each other and he nodded with a grimace that might have become a smile. "That's pretty obvious for a slave." The welts on his back were still burning.

"Yeah, but that's not what I mean. Running and hiding from things only hurts yourself in the end. We also learn from painful experiences."

He nodded slowly.

"Go to sleep now, Dante. You won't be able to solve this problem in the next few hours."

"I know." He nodded again. "Thank you." Mistress Alice's smile dissolved the oppressive feeling inside him enough for warm gratitude to take over- because of the cramped conditions in the bathroom, he knelt a little awkwardly and bowed his head deeply. "Thank you, mistress, for your time, your ear and your words."

"Not so formal..." She sounded amused and stroked his head, sending a tingle down his spine.

"Every now and then, even here in the wilderness, I remember my good manners," he replied dryly, and she chuckled.

"You've found your humor again, that's good. Go to sleep, will you?"

"Yes, mistress." That's exactly what he intended to do.

Henry raised his head as he closed the door. "Dante...?"

"Yes, I'm here..."

"Good..." the boy mumbled, half asleep, and sighed.

Dante tucked him in neatly and then lay down himself.

Breaking down the protective walls around his heart. That sounded like a lengthy siege.

~
 

Two days later was Maisie's tenth birthday. To celebrate, she had invited two friends over, and Daniel had asked Dante if he would help him with the grand baking.

Dante, who had been trying to look at the dynamics of the household a little differently, concluded that Daniel, for whatever reason, trusted him more or- the thought came strangely hesitantly- liked him more than, say, TJ. In any case, to his quiet despair, he found himself alone with the children in the kitchen shortly after the birthday party began, because yes, Henry was still a child, too, and no, a silent uninvolved-looking Frank could not be counted among the responsible adults either way.

Thanks to the Great Mother, part of the cookie dough was already prepared and Henry kept Jack busy- much to the girls' delight- by making more dough.

Dante let the girls do their work and was amazed at how mature they were in some parts and what topics they could seriously discuss- he had met young women in Denser's Port who still lacked such maturity. Sure, they giggled and laughed a lot and silly, but overall he was impressed. He didn't really need to do much more than operate the stove and pass things around.

Frank seemed to wake up at some point and then lived up to all the expectations of him, teasing the girls as a ten year old boy bored with baking probably would. But, and this was probably most noticeable to Dante, he was also a loving uncle, taking Jack on his lap, holding cookies with his healthy hand so that the girls and Henry could decorate them better, praising Maisie's little works of art the most, giggling at their jokes, and even tolerating with admirable patience the girls decorating him with icing nail polish.

When Miss Carolyn and Blaise came to pick up the kids and do whatever to end the party- Maisie had mentioned she wanted to go out to eat at some restaurant- Frank sank into his chair with relief, and Dante sighed deeply.

Henry muttered something that sounded like toilet and shot off like a bat out of hell.

The kitchen was a battlefield.

"Somehow I can understand why Daniel left so quickly..." Dante muttered, pouring himself a large glass of water.

Frank grinned wryly. "Takes a lot of effort, huh?"

"Yeah." Dante drank and felt a little better afterwards; there were definitely too many 'failed' cookies with too much frosting in his stomach. He filled the glass again and when he turned around, Frank was just nibbling the frosting off his nails.

"I guess that's the second proof I'm made of sugar after all." He winked at Dante, who laughed softly and held the glass out to him. "Thanks." Frank looked up at Dante and for a moment there was something in his gaze that Dante had only ever seen in his bedroom. And it was intense enough to make him glad Henry was coming back to clean up.

~
 

A large house and property sometimes made certain people hard to find, and Dante was exceedingly annoyed because he couldn't find Blaise. Mistress Alice wanted some documents from him, but he couldn't be found.

Well, not quite. In fact, when Dante called off the search and went back to Tom and the work, it was clearly Blaise's voice that sounded from the back corner of the workshop.

"- very disappointed, baby boy."

"I- ah- I know, Pa, I know- ah- I'm- ah- sorry. I- I promise- oooh..." That was Tom.

Dante stopped as if rooted to the spot.

"Because of you, your baby brother is hurt. You disappointed him and you disappointed me, baby boy, do you understand that?" It didn't take a genius to tell from the sounds and voices what the two were busy with.

"Y-yes, Pa, I- ah- I-I understand. I'm sorry. I've been a bad boy, I'll make it up to you." Tom's voice, effortfully whiny and distorted by lust, made Dante shudder. In Denser's Port he'd heard a lot of whispering about all sorts of preferences, but this was one of those things that he found definitely and utterly off-putting.

"Oh yes, you will, baby boy. Twelve days... gnh... twelve days, in the morning and-and at night you'll prove to me that-that you've learned how to make your Pa happy."

"Yes, Pa..."

Dante shuddered again and retreated.

"Hey, Dante, you were looking for me?" Blaise poked his head into the kitchen and Dante half turned.

"Yes. Mistress Alice wanted"- Mikey cursed loudly in the background- "wanted some documents."

Blaise frowned at first, then groaned. "Oh, that shit. Just go down quick and bring her the green folder that's on my desk, will you? I could have sworn I brought it to her earlier..."

"On my way..." Dante nodded and closed the drawer he had just been about to take the silverware from before leaving the kitchen.

There was loud laughter downstairs in the slave kitchen and he raised his hand in greeting as he passed. He had thought about whether he might not feel more comfortable down here, in this own little community, but then dismissed the thought - not even because of the unwanted proximity to Tom, but more because he would certainly have felt cut off from the rest of the world. He quite liked being able to go into town once in a while, as boring as Townsend might be compared to other cities.

He entered Blaise's small office, picked up the green folder that actually lay handy on the desk, and turned back.

"Hey, Dante..."

Inwardly he sighed, what did Tom want now? "What's up?" he asked over his shoulder.

Tom had stepped out of the slave pantry and was holding two large red packages close to him. "How's Frank? Blaise sounded worried earlier..."

Dante raised a brow. Worried was probably not what he would have called the tone, but that was another topic. "Alice said the antibiotics might cause depressed moods as a side effect, but I got the impression he's coping pretty well by now."

Tom's gaze remained serious. "Don't be fooled. He's been like this before."

"Meaning what?"

"He tried to kill himself once."

Dante blinked, puzzled. "He did... what?"

Tom nodded curtly. "I want-"

"Tom! Get your ass over here!" Dennis shouted loudly between them, and someone else added:

"Or do you have a dick stuck in it again?"

After Tom shouted back a rude remark, he turned back to Dante, but he used the opportunity differently.

"Who really started this now full-blown affair? You or Blaise?"

For a moment Tom seemed caught off guard, then audibly gritted his teeth before admitting: "Me."

It no longer surprised Dante, and he nodded. He refrained from making a comment about the baby boy talk, because he didn't want to know which one of them had started this game, too.

"Tom! Come on!"

Dante took a step back and Tom nodded hesitantly at him.

"Keep an eye on Frank."

~
 

"How's your hand?" Dante asked quietly.

"Fine," Frank grumbled, causing Dante's body to vibrate for they lay snuggled close together in bed. Mistress Alice had once again accompanied Frank to the doctor and this time his new bandage was wrapped so that his thumb was again mobile. "Great Mother, just a few more days and I can finally stop taking those nasty pills."

"Well, better pills than a nasty wound infection," Dante pointed out, and Frank sighed.

"I know. But thanks to this stuff, I pee green."

Dante chuckled. "Ewww..."

Frank interrupted the sound by kissing him, but it was a rather half-hearted gesture and only short.

"You seem rather depressed." Dante said carefully, remembering Tom's words of yesterday, which had worried him more than he had thought after all. He had considered asking Mistress Alice about it, but didn't want to bypass Frank in the process.

"Are the pills.", Frank grumbled and moved a bit away from Dante to press his face into the pillow for a moment. His hand was on Dante's hip, but even that gesture seemed oddly uninvolving, so Dante let his hand slide between them and stroked Frank's wrapped privates.

"Shall I-"

"No." The answer came out harsher than Dante had expected, and he set to apologizing after a surprised blink when Frank sighed. "No." he repeated more gently. "I know you only mean well, but you don't have to take care of me and my feelings. I'm not a little kid anymore. This... is suffocating."

"Oh. I... I didn't mean to... sorry..." mumbled Dante, caught off guard. He certainly hadn't meant to smother Frank, but merely to help him, to be there for him. This very clear rejection hurt surprisingly much.

Frank took his hand off his hip and Dante moved away a bit, turning around.

For a moment he felt like Frank was going to say something, but it stayed silent, and he briefly thought of just leaving, but that definitely wouldn't make the situation any better.