AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello everyone or anyone... I'm not actually sure anyone will read this but I had this idea for a story and thought why not! This is my first fanfiction... as I already said in the description... so yeah... here it goes.
Frances Hodgson Burnett wrote The Secret Garden and I am forever grateful! This was the first classic I ever read and it will always hold a special place in my heart. I do not own the characters but reading about their adventures has made them feel like friends and as I write about them it is almost like we are playing a new game. If that makes any sense.
Anyway here it is! I wish I could say I will update regularly but life tends to cause changes so I will do my best.
Echoes of war swept over England and soon became the only topic discussed at Misselthwaite Manor. It was a constant source of strife between Master Craven and his son, Collin. Archibald Craven wanted nothing to do with the war and was quite content to stay safe and tucked away at Misselthwaite. Collin, however, wanted to enlist and since his father would not even contemplate such an idea, Collin was determined to be involved in any and every possible way.
Mary hated these discussions and often would retreat to her garden and to Dickon. It was her greatest fear that he would be drafted into this war and yet when she saw him his smile drove away any thoughts of being afraid. The one time she tried to bring up the topic of the war he simple stated, "Now Miss Mary don't tha be borrowin' any trouble." So she never brought up the topic again. They worked side by side. Occasionally Mary would start chattering away about everything and nothing all at once and Dickon would listen. But usually they worked together in a comfortable silence.
Usually in those times of silence Mary would steal glances at her friend. He had grown from the boy she had met a few years ago into a healthy young man. He had grown in height and the years of working in the garden had not hurt his physique. His messy curly hair had softened into a gentle wave and the rusty color darkened into auburn. But despite these changes in appearance he remained the same. He was the same Dickon that Mary met all those years ago, the same angel just grown now. His eyes remained round and blue and the purity and innocence still lingered behind those eyes. He still charmed the animals and at some point he had charmed his way into Mary's heart. She never knew how or when but her love for him grew like the flowers in the spring. She never had expressed her feelings but deep down she felt he already knew. Her angel certainly seemed to know everything else.
She was wrong of course for Dickon did not know of her feelings for him; he only knew of his feelings for her. Dickon had been aware of Mary's growth from the spoilt child from India to the beautiful lady she was now. However since she was a lady and he was just a boy off the moor he tried not to dwell his feeling for her and would turn his thoughts elsewhere. It worked at time and yet at times it did not. Regardless of Mary and Dickon's unresolved feelings there was a peace between them. So the friends were content to work side by side in silence.
Today however was different. "I've been drafted." Dickon whispered. He spoke so quietly Mary almost missed what he said and when it registered what he said she wished she had not heard it. She stopped working and just stared at her hands her mind racing but she said nothing. Dickon had stopped working as well and was watching her face as the news sunk it was the first time silence had felt uncomfortable.
Mary's thoughts were in a whirl her worst fear had finally come true. Dickon was drafted. Dickon understood the magic of nature and could understand the robins and bring a garden and a girl to life. This angel was going to war. She had heard too much of this war and its many horrors from all those arguments between her uncle and cousin. "A fate worse than death," Uncle Craven had called it, "A place where you needed to kill or be killed." It was this thought the broke Mary's frozen state of shock as she burst into tears.
Dickon wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face in his chest and sobbed. Scared he might start to cry himself he whispered, "Now Miss Mary don't tha be borrowin' trouble."
Mary in between her sobs looked up and pleaded, "Promise me you'll come back to me! I need you! Promise you'll try your hardest to come back."
"Miss Mary tha doesn't need me." He said into her hair.
She pulled away from him and looked at him her teary eyes locked with his blue ones. Her tears had stopped and her temper was rising and with a hint of anger she fumed, "Dickon! How can you not know how much I need you? You brought me to life with this Garden. We've grown up together and you always bring out the best in me. How dare you say I don't need you! And stop calling me MISS Mary. As if in some way I am your superior!" But as she stared into his eyes she burst into a new batch of tears and reached for him again muttering, "You are my best friend, Dickon. And I am hopelessly in love with you. Promise me you'll come back."
This time Dickon was shocked, she loved him; it was a wish he had never dreamed possible. "I love you too, Mary." He said at last. He looked down at her and wiped the tears from her eyes and kissed her. It was a simple kiss as delicate as kissing a flower but with a special magic behind it belonging to the innocents of the young couple.
As they broke apart again she whispered, "Promise me."
"Aye, as long as tha are here waitin' for me I will return to tha." He promised.
"I'll wait for you" She promised.
Dickon smiled and leaned in for another kiss but the creak of the door stopped them and instead they turned to see Colin walked in.
As they grew older Colin spent less time in the garden. The garden would always have a special place in his heart but having being confined all those years to his room the wall of the garden seemed to close in with time. So the times he did visit were random and the magic of memories would return to the three friends. This was the first time Mary and Dickon wished he hadn't come.
Colin was oblivious to the magic he had interrupted. He did notice Mary wiping away the few remaining tears from her eyes.
"Mary what's the matter?" He asked abruptly.
Mary did not answer for fear she would start weeping again. So Colin turned to Dickon.
Dickon had yet to take his eyes off Mary but answered Colin, "I've been drafted."
Colin's first reaction was that of joy, for it was Colin's dream to enlist, but as he watched Dickon's worried gaze on his dear cousin that Colin remembered Mary's tear stained checks. So Colin refrained from his congratulations and asked instead, "When do you leave?"
Dickon glanced at Colin and knew he had to give an answer but was worried that his answer would again bring tears to Mary face and quickly brought his gaze back on Mary. "Tomorrow," He finally muttered.
Both boys heard her sharp intake of breath but were thankful and proud to see that tears did not follow at least they did not follow now.
So the three friends worked in silence even the memories of yesteryear could not clear their heads of the thought of war. So it was not surprising that they did not accomplish much in the garden that day. How could one make things grow when one's head overflowed with thoughts of death. Time seemed to move at different paces for the three friends. Colin felt time moving slowly although not uncomfortable in the silence it was not how he pictured spending a day in the garden. For Mary however time was racing forward and although her hand occasionally brushed Dickon's hand he seemed to drift farther and farther away. Dickon felt the warmth of Mary's hand and tried to relish in the moment but knew time was moving ahead.
As the sun began to set Colin murmured something about heading back inside. Mary nodded but lingered behind as Colin left. She turned to Dickon his eyes for once did not hold the twinkling magic but an unfulfilled hopeless longing. She embraced him and whispers a reminder, "Don't forget your promise! I'll be waiting for you." To Dickon it all felt like a dream but he pulled away from Mary to study her. He wanted to remember her like this in the garden. Surrounded by the daffodils, under the oak, consumed by the twilight, she stood. But the nature around her could not compare to the beauty she possessed. And with a final look he left her there in the garden a place he knew she would be safe.