Disclaimer- The Secret Garden, as well as its charecters and plot, all belong to Frances Hodgson Burnett (ie; not us)
Summary- Mary loses her special picture. As she searches, she reminescinces about her past with Dickon and how it was all ruined by Colin's crazy fantasies about them bieng together. Can the gardens swing (which so many memories cling to like death to a tomb) bring them back together?
Picturesque /Picturesk/ Forming or fitted to form, a good or pleasing picture representing with the clearness or ideal beauty appropriate to a picture; expressing that peculiar kind of beauty which is agreeable in a picture, natural or artificial; graphic; vivid; as, a picturesque scene or attitude; picturesque language.
It was a cold summer afternoon in which Mary couldn't find anything she was looking for. She rummaged through her drawers, throwing out an assortment of pictures, perfume bottles, and poutpourri.
'If I can't find it then my life will be ruined!' She thought frantically.
All she needed was that one picture that had helped her survive all these years, the one picture that would help her now.
She spotted her bottle of lotion and dived for it as she cried, "I need to feel its comfort!"
She sat on her bed and smoothed the lotion over her legs, looking down at the scattered pictures on the floor. New ones, old ones, flawless and torn ones, but her special picture failed to show itself.
'Where could it be?' she wondered.
She felt tears sting at her eyes as she felt a sense of shame sweep through her. How could she lose that picture...just as she had lost him?
Mary finally gathered her wits, stood and marched with determination towards her open door. She he had to find him...err...it. She headed to the kitchens hoping she had accidentally dropped her picture there. At first glance there was no sign of it, so she knelt down to look under tables and chairs in desperation. When she was just about to leave, Colin entered in such a quiet manner that she walked straight into him.
"How long have you been there?" She questioned him.
"Long enough to see you walking around on your knees like a dog," He smirked. She glared at him before proclaiming his obvious inability to know anything about anything at which point she promptly smacked him. She then stormed out of the room leaving a very stunned Colin behind.
On her way outside she ran into Martha rushing between rooms with an air of exhaustion. Miss Medlock was apparently gravely ill. For a moment Mary forgot about her encounter with Colin and even the picture.
"Whats wrong Martha?"
"Oh tis nothin' to worry yourself 'bout Mary," She sighed.
Once she knew Martha was okay Mary remembered her mission.
"Have you seen...my picture?"
" What picture is this Mary...Mary?" A glazed expression had overcome Mary's features.
"That one..." She gulped. "Of Dickon and I...in the garden." She drifted off into memory.
She had been poised on the swing posing for a picture that Colin would eventually take. Dickon stood off to the side laughing along with them.
"Sit on the swing, Dickon!" Colin ordered.
Dickon smiled sheepishly, as he sat down facing her. They both smiled and blushed. Dickon turned away quickly to face the camera.
"Look at her, Dickon, look at her!" Colin barked.
Dickon turned to her and thier eyes locked. Mary remembered losing herself for quite some time in his intense blue eyes.
"Look at me now," Colin said irritated. "Look at me!"
"Mary? Mary?" Martha called uncertaintly, as Mary's eyes snapped up to meet hers.
"Oh, sorry...So you haven't seen it then?"
"No Mary, I'm sorry," Martha said rushing into the room she'd previously come out of.
Mary continued outside. Once there, the bright sun overwhelmed her, so she let herself adjust to it before going any further.
She let her feet lead her as she thought. She ended up at the door to her secret garden, perhaps she left the picture among a rose bush or something of the sort? She pushed the door open with some effort, then stepped into the garden, not sure where she was going. Slowly she circled around it, gazing at the flowers she'd helped to grow. Suddenly her feet stopped in front of the swing. So many memories clung to the swing like death to a tomb. Her cousins birth, her Aunt's death, even her first kiss.
"Dickon!" She giggled. "Stop it that tickles!" As she swung back and forth Dickon grabbed her feet. The swing swung a few more times before coming to a halt. She scooted off to one side of the swing and offered him a seat as he greeted her.
"Why hello there Miss Mary". She did not respond. She was lost in his eyes. He gazed back at her, as he leaned in slightly, so slightly in fact that Mary failed to notice. His grin slowly faded away, as he leaned in. She tilted her head and closed her eyes. He tickled her.
She jumped from the swing
"Dickon!" She exclaimed. This time she was not laughing. She ran, her eyes watery.
"Miss Mary!" He called after her, unaware of what he had done.
Mary continued to run, desperate to get into the manor. Her footsteps echoed throughout the empty hallways as she tried in vain to run faster than she knew was possible. She tripped over the carpet outside her room, as she pulled at the doorknob frantically. Finally in her quie,t contained room, she threw herself onto her bed willing her tears away.
Only a few minutes later she felt her bed sink in slightly. She hoped with all her might that it was Colin or Martha, not Dickon.
"Miss Mary," It was Dickon. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend" Mary stiffened and remained silent. Hesitantly he put his hand on her hair, as he had done all those years ago. Just as then, she drew away.
"I wish to be alone," She whispered wondering why she had to be so stubborn.
"Mary..." He reached out to touch her back.
"Please, "Mary whispered, her voice muffled by her pillow.
He stood and slowly started towards the door.
"Dickon," She called hesitantly. "I'm sorry, I overreacted" It was too late, she heard the door click behind him. "Oh no!" She rushed after him. She opened the door softly and peered out. He was nowhere to be seen. She went to the only place she could think of, the swing.
Less than twenty minutes later she found him right where she thought he would be.
"Dickon!"
He looked up.
"I-I..." She didn't know what to say so instead she approached him further. She stood right before him with only a moment of hesitation they leaned together and thier lips met.
Mary snapped back into reality as rain began to drizzle from the sky.
She had to find the picture. If it were outside then the rain was sure to ruin it, she realized in a moment of panic. She ran back to the house unable to search, because thunder had clashed above her. She flung open the door and rushed herself inside, crashing into Colin.
"Deja vu," She muttered.
"Mary," He said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I know you're having a rough time."
"What do you know?" She snapped.
"That on all fours you look like a dog?" He whispered sincerely.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up. You don't understand!" She hissed at him.
"Mary, I do" He stepped towards her, leaning in.
"No!" She pushed him away. "Don't you see? This is how it all started...or ended..."
He blinked at her. "Um... what do you mean?"
"We're not ten years old anymore Colin! This isn't some stupid game! What we had you ruined! I hate you!"
"Who's we Mary?"
"Is that your precious Dickon? He doesn't feel for you the way I do, can't you see that? I wanted to marry you for Godsake!"
Her eyes widened horrified. "You're just as...as..." She turned on her heel and walked back outside into the pouring rain.
He followed her calling, "I'm just as what Mary? What were you going to say?"
She kept on walking not bothering to answer.
"I'm going to follow you until you tell me Miss Mary," He spat.
She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. "You're the same spoiled, selfish, sick little boy, that I met six years ago!"
This time it was his turn to stop and say nothing. He turned on his heel and stomped back towards the manor.
She kept going once again letting her feet guide her. Soon she forget everything, her present problems and her fears, all she could remember was the past.
...Meanwhile... Dickon sat silently watching his sister prepare dinner for the household. In his hands he clutched a picture that held many memories.
It had been a warm spring day when Mary had been sitting on the swing waiting for him. Dickon could see her from where he stood, but she couldn't see him. Something made him stay where he was a moment longer to admire her.
Her hair glowed in the sun, giving her an angelic look. Her hands gripped the ropes of the swing delicately, they looked so soft. They were so small, so delicate, fitting perfectly into his. How he longed for the next moment when he'd be able to feel the tickle fo her fingertips upon his palm. The soft caress of her lips, pressed passionately against his. He was craving to hear her voice say his name, even if she was angry with him. His own name never failed to make him blush. He watched silently as she hummed, her voice so sweet and light. She swung her legs beneath her gracefully, his eyes following her every move. He saw a flash of skin as she repositioned her skirts around herself. Oh, how he wanted to see more. She glanced up briefly, but overlooked him from his hiding spot in the shrubery. He smiled, and started to step out when Colin came running towards her.
"Mary! Mary! I have something to tell you!" He cried.
"Can we have this conversation later?" She begged looking around nervously.
"No, we cannot!" He said sitting next to her and leaning towards her ear. "I'm sick of hiding my feelings Mary, I love you!" He leaned in pressing his lips to hers.
Dickon's eyes widened in shock. After a moment of this he whirled around and went back the way he had come. He couldn't watch anymore.
Dickon sat in the kitchen staring at the floor, as his sister worked around him.
"Why such a long face, Dickon?" Martha asked.
He didn't answer but kept eyes fixed on the floor.
"Dickon," Martha looked up from the soup she had been stirring to watch him. " Is i' somethin' to do with Mary?"
"How could she do that? He's her cousin!" His eyes shone, but remained fixed on the floor.
"What are ya' goin' on about, dear boy?" Martha looked thouroughly confused.
Once again Dickon did not answer.
"Oh!" She gasped. "You think Master Colin and Mary have somethin' between 'em?" She laughed now. Dickon just looked up, his face grave. She went back to her stirring as she said, "True, Master Colin 'as takin' a likin' to Miss Mary but yer right, they're cousins! She knows tha!" She looked up at Dickon again. " Yer the one she's head ova' 'eels for!"
"But they kissed eachother only a few days ago!"
"Oh, tha's wha this is about is it? Did ya even stick 'round to see wha' she did?"
"Now why would I do that? I couldn't take it!'"
"'Cause she slapped him a course! After all they are cousins!" She laughed again.
"How d' you know tha'?" His heart was racing.
"Mary and I are quite close Dickon, we do talk sometimes!"
Dickon payed no attention to wat else she might have had to say, as he rushed out of the room in search of Mary. He knew exactly where she would be.
Into the garden he went purposefully heading for the swing.
Mary rocked gently back and forth her hands burried in her face. Slowly he approached her. "Did you lose something Miss Mary?" He asked softly.
She looked up with tears streaming down her delicate porcelain face, though the rain disguised them quite well.
"Tell me wha's wrong, can I 'elp?" He coaxed, as he stepped closer to her. She nodded as more tears escaped from her eyes, now unable to be hidden. He leaned down and gently kissed away a tear, then he pulled away slightly so that he could look into her eyes. They searched his, wondering what he was doing here with her in the middle of a storm to top it all off.
"Oh Dickon, I'm so sorry!" She exclaimed, embracing him.
"So am I, I was so quick to assume!" He replied wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.
She looked up at him, their eyes met for a moment before their lips met. "I found this in the kitchens. It appears to be yours," Dickon said after a moment, as he began to search his pockets for something.
"Here." He handed her a picture, but not just any picture, the picture. It was a shot of them sitting in the swing that they now stood by, embracing eachother as if they were glued to one another.
The picture was found, as was Dickon. Mary couldn't imagine losing either of them ever again.
...The End...