Just a little oneshot as I segue back into the world of fanfiction :)
Dickon was never a man of means, but not a soul could ever say he lacked love. He managed to keep room in his heart for every living thing and then some, and shared that love equally and fairly. He loved the birds as much as the clouds, the heather as much as the squirrels, the dirt as much as the flowers.
Much of Mary's fascination with the boy was due to this immeasurable compassion. However, this very same attribute never failed to confuse her ceaselessly.
He smiled at her the same way he smiled at the sky after a long day of work in the gardens.
He patted her hair the same way he stroked wild ponies as he fed them sugar cubes Mary snuck from the kitchen.
He held her the same way he held curious young rabbits that came to visit them in Mary's garden.
Sometimes she couldn't help wondering if he cared for her the se way she did for him, or if he loved her no more than an acorn or a bush.
But, there were moments when she knew.
When he looked into her eyes, she saw a gleam that stood out, a warm glimmer that he never shared with anyone else.
When he kissed her, he still touched her delicately, but she could feel the fire inside him, burning through his calm exterior.
And when he whispered in her ear, a slightly husky quality melded with his cool, melodious, as though she could hear his heartbeat quickly increasing.
And in such moments, when they sat so close, when she was the only girl in his world, and he the only boy in hers, Mary could finally remember that love is a relative term.