Hello Dear Readers. I think I owe you all a major apology for my absence. Believe you me, it wasn't planned. Thanks to life being the dastardly thing it is, nearly every area of mine blew up like so many cheap fireworks. In other words, things were very crazy in very many ways, some of them good, and some of them decidedly not good. Things are back on an even keel now, and I'm sane enough to start writing again (which is good, because I missed this story). Oh, and guess who now has a hard-earned college degree? Yep. This lady.
Thank you so much to all of you who are still here. :) Just so you are aware, I will not be giving up on this story, so even if there is another horrendous gap in updates, don't worry…there will be another one eventually. As always, comments, criticisms, ideas, and free chocolate are all welcomed with open arms.
On with the show.
Hatter was in a bit of a fix when it came to Alice. Even though an entire two days had passed since the Jack Heart incident, she was still upset. He couldn't let the situation go on — it was bad for business, bad for her health, bad for his (mental) health, and just...well, bad.
He had tried acting the way he usually did around her – teasing tempered with plenty of kindness – but she refused to let the incident be. Or rather, she refused to even bring it up with him. So there it sat, right in the center of her stony silence.
Alice was clearly bothered that he was keeping secrets, but he remained clueless as to why. Hadn't he told her that his refusal had nothing to do with her? All right, maybe it did have something to do with her, but only because he was looking out for her safety along with his own. His legal tea business was only moderately dangerous, but his side-dealing could be downright deadly if he wasn't careful. Perhaps oysters really were as irrational as rumor claimed.
Regardless of her questionable reasoning skills, Hatter found that he missed her curiosity and her smiles. It was true that the bravery it took for her to give him the silent treatment was admirable (in a misplaced sort of way), but he was sick of the tension it caused. But what to do about it? That was the puzzler. What would an oyster woman like? Had she been a Wonderlander, a vial of some sweet-smelling tea or other would do the trick. The women he had known over the years were invariably fond of sweet fragrances, but there was no way he was going to encourage Alice to drink tea. He thought she might enjoy something colorful, but the only things that came to mind were clothes and blown glass. Both seemed a little underwhelming to him.
He did a little bit of discreet asking around on his next trip through the city. His question raised some curious eyebrows, but nothing a meaningful look on his part couldn't quell. Oyster men use flowers to catch their ladies, one person said. And diamonds, they all love those.
Hatter decided to try the flowers. There was no sense in buying pretty rocks when they weren't strictly needed. Now it was a question of how to track down said flowers and present them to Alice without her suspecting his intentions. The city wasn't exactly graced with blossoms on every terrace, and the plants that did grow were not that appealing.
He thought about this off-and-on for an entire evening as he went over his books, throwing out a grand total of six ideas before hitting on the solution. While he and Alice were closing up the trading floor for the night, he saw something that had escaped his notice before: the small plants and flowers that grew in the dirt aisles were wilted. A few were completely dead.
No surprises there, considering that he'd never really thought about the plants before, much less watered or tended them. He didn't see much point in beautifying the trading floor, but it made an excellent pretext for bringing in some nice flowers for Alice.
One of his clients knew a merchant who knew a vegetable farmer whose wife dabbled in botany. Their farm was near the city and reportedly had hothouses on the property. Hatter pulled a few strings the next morning and arranged to buy a boatload of potted flowers, which arrived late that night just after the shop had closed. As soon as he got word that the shipment was in, he took Dormie with him down to the uppermost canal to collect his plants. A quick assessment showed that the farmer's wife had quite a green thumb — all twelve pots were overflowing with lush green leaves and colorful blossoms. Hatter couldn't help feeling a bit pleased with himself for pulling this off in a single day. But then, he wasn't in business for nothing, now was he? The talents and contacts required were pretty handy for other things, too.
Now to see if Alice liked them enough to get Jack Heart out of her head.
He hadn't counted on the pots being quite so large. Pots and ladders did not mix well, and getting them up to the shop was a nip and tuck process that took several hours. By the last run down to the boat, Hatter was contending with sore arms and an aching back, not to mention the overwhelming temptation to push Dormie off a ledge. The little man had somehow managed to make himself incredibly unhelpful at every thing he attempted. Sometimes Hatter wondered why he still kept him in his employ, or even why he had hired him in the first place.
Seeing Alice's face made it all worthwhile, though. She came out to the trading floor as they were bringing the last two pots in.
"I heard noise. What's going on?" Her eyes fell on the pot nearest the door. "Oh." After staring at the flowers in surprise for a moment, she began to smile. It was the brightest smile Hatter had ever seen from her, and he couldn't help but grin himself. Those blue eyes were looking quite brilliant.
She hesitantly stepped forward and ran her fingertips over the flowers. "They're so nice!" She exclaimed breathlessly. He wished he were more of one for flowers, so he could tell her their names.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye while he pretended to dust off his hat. Who would have guessed that flowers would have such a potent effect on oysters? Did the bright colors flip some switches in those heads of theirs? Oh, of course. Alice had probably never seen healthy, fresh flowers before, growing up as she did in the bowels of the city. No wonder, then.
Suddenly, her back went straight, and she sent a small glare his way. "And what are these for?"
So she was not completely unaware of her world's traditions. Infinitely preferring her smile over her suspicion, he decided not to tell her that they were a shameless bribe. He gestured to the aisles. "To freshen things up a bit."
She followed his gesture and nodded. "Those are looking pretty shabby. Do you know anything about gardening?"
He grinned cheekily. "Nope. Don't even know what they're called. You, Dormie? Oi, Dormie! What do you think you're doing?"
Dormie had sidled over to the tea counter and was attempting to circumvent the locked door. He looked up guiltily. "Nuthin', Hatter."
"Yeah? Well, stay out of nuthin', whatever it is."
The little man scuttled back, scowling irritably in Hatter's general direction.
"Dormie, what you do know about gardening?" Alice asked.
Dormie looked up, as if slightly affronted that an oyster was speaking to him. Not that he had the courage to argue the point with her. He shrugged. "Nuthin'."
Alice regarded the two of them dubiously. "Nothing at all, between the two of you?"
"Do I look like the gardening sort? Here, in the middle of the city?" Hatter asked, keeping his tone cheerful so she would know he wasn't really reprimanding her. "I know the pretty parts stay above ground and the tangled parts don't. That's it."
Alice fingered a flower again, and appeared to be enjoying its softness. "Well, I guess we can learn."
Hatter shrugged. "Dormie, are there any shovels around?"
Dormie didn't bother with a response, but shuffled off into the back hallway to look.
Hatter busied himself with inspecting the dead flowers along the tables. He was not relishing the idea of getting dirt on his suit jacket. Perhaps he could pop back to his room and change into something better fit for gardening. He did want to see more of Alice's reaction, though.
He glanced back at her.
She had placed a hand on the stem on one of the plants, and was running a finger through the soil in the pot with the other. Her hair hung loosely in her face, and she pushed it back with her dirt-encrusted fingers, unaware that pieces of it were catching in the strands.
Hatter swallowed the sudden, unwelcome lump in his throat. Unable to resist, he stepped over and brushed the dirt from the silky strands. Then, as she stared at him in surprise, he impulsively plucked a bright blue flower from the pot. When he gently tucked the flower behind her ear, her expression changed from confusion to pure astonishment. Her eyes were bright as she reached up to touch it, and Hatter could have sworn he saw the beginnings of tears.
Why was she crying? It wasn't anger — he had seen enough of that from her to rule it out. She was sad, perhaps. Or, just maybe, there was something positive to it.
He swallowed the pesky lump again. "Right, let's see about this, shall we?"
Throwing his shirt's fortune to the wind (or dirt, as the case happened to be), he bent over one of the dead plants, grasped the stalk, and pulled. It came up easily enough, and he left it on the ground and moved to the next one. Alice stared at him as he worked, until he finally looked up and said, "Have you taken root there, Alice?" She shook her head, and started pulling up plants on the other side of the aisle.
They worked in silence for several minutes, until Alice broke it. "Hatter?"
"Yeah?" He resisted the urge to look up from the mass of roots he was tugging on. Had it worked? Did flowers really work that well?
"Why did Jack call you Mad?"
Oh, for crying out loud….
She had stopped pulling plants and had fixed him with that stare again. "I won't stop asking until you tell me."
He suppressed a grimace. "I thought we'd talked about this already, and as I recall, we agreed that it's me own business."
"I know, but I'd still like you to tell me." Her voice had a ring of false confidence to it. He looked over at her. She was biting her lip, and one hand was tightly clenched.
Oh. Of course. She thought she might not be safe around him.
It was so obvious that he almost laughed aloud. And he had taken so much trouble with the flowers! It was just as well that she liked them.
He looked down at the withered plant in his hands and idly tore off a few leaves, considering. How much could he really tell her? Definitely not much at this point, in case pretty-boy Jack showed up again. On the other hand, keeping her in the dark could give the prince just as much of a weapon. Possibly a more dangerous one. Hatter did not know how much Jack knew about his past, but if he knew enough he could use that knowledge to manipulate Alice against him very easily.
He made a decision, and looked back up at her. "I used to work for the Hearts in me younger days enforcing tea regulations, and it earned me a bit of a reputation." Then he added as an afterthought, "Jack was a whiny little whelp back then."
Her eyes narrowed as she deliberately ignored his last comment. "What about your hand?"
"What about it?"
"You know what I mean. The table…you crushed it."
How to explain that? He frowned and looked at the ceiling for inspiration, noting as he did the extensive water damage on the pipes. This place really was falling apart. "That," he said slowly, unsure of exactly how to phrase it, "was an experiment, courtesy of the Queen. It's just me right arm. I volunteered for it." So to speak.
"Is that why they call you Sledgehammer?"
"Yeah." More or less. "Are you finished asking questions?" He hated to get peevish so soon after getting her to speak to him again, but he wasn't about to divulge more at this point.
"Yes…well, no. One more?"
He sighed patiently and tossed another plant away. "Sure."
"Why don't you like Jack?"
Oh, where to start? "It's not a matter of not liking him, it's a matter of not trusting him." Not like was too kind a term for his sentiments toward Jack Heart.
"But you don't like him either, and I don't understand why."
Hatter chewed on that. Why did he dislike Jack? He'd never cared either way in the old days. Of course, back then Jack had been too young to be a threat to his livelihood or his personal business — or to naive oysters who couldn't see past his blinding charm.
He looked up at Alice. The glint of tears was still there, hidden behind the strained determination on her face. Now was not the time for this. "It's just distrust, Alice. I'm sure he's a nice guy when he doesn't have an agenda." The lie tasted a little more like acid than lies usually did, but he ignored it. Sometimes it was better to paint the roses red (as the old saying went) than to tell the truth and stir up more conflict.
"Why are you so sure he has an agenda?" She asked, sounding a little defensive. "Maybe he just comes here because he's bored. Maybe he's lonely."
"That's beside the point. He's a member of the ruling family, and I'm breaking one of their laws just by having you here. Better to be safe than lose our heads, yeah?" It wasn't the whole truth, or even close to it, but he hoped it would be enough. He went back to pulling up plants. To his relief, Alice followed his example and dropped the subject.
Dormie came back with a well-worn, oversized shovel just before they finished. Hatter decided not to ask where he had been, instead directing him to dig out holes for the plants, while he began moving pots. Alice stood off to the side and watched them both. Hatter was soon aware that she was scrutinizing him again, though for what he couldn't say.
Once, he looked up and made eye contact. Instead of looking away, she met his gaze and even offered a little half-smile. He thought the sadness might still be there, but now at least she wasn't angry or afraid. He made a mental note: flowers were the pigeon's roost when it came to oysters.