Disclaimer - I don't own The Secret Garden or any of its characters. I used an except from the book, page 168-169 just to start things off. I don't own it.
I apologize for my horrible Yorkshire. I had to the use the book for some translations and I am sorry if I translate the words wrong.
He's Like An Angel
" You're a selfish thing!" cried Colin.
" What are you?" said Mary. " Selfish people always say that. Any one is selfish who doesn't do what they want. You're more selfish than I am. You're the most selfish boy I've ever saw."
" I'm not!" snapped Colin. " I'm not as selfish as your fine Dickon is. He keeps you playing in the dirt when he knows I am all by myself. He's selfish, if you like!"
Mary's eyes flashed fire.
" He's nicer than any other boy that ever lived!" she said. " He's - he's like an angel!" It might sound rather silly to say but she didn't care.
" A nice angel!" Colin sneered feociously. " He's a common cottage boy off the moor!"
He's better than a common Rajah!" Mary retorted. " He's a thousand times better!"
The arguement that she had with her cousin, Colin, still rang about in Mary's ears. It was rare that she would have someone argue back with her. Back in her old life, nobody ever argued with her. They just let her have her way.
But it seems that Colin was in the same dilemma. No one ever argued with him and to have Mary argue with him, he lost poorly.
Feeling the need to calm down, Mary decided not to return to her room. Things would only be troublesome in there. Even worse, Colin might order Martha or some other servant to drag her back to his room.
The only safe place left was the garden. So that's where Mary went.
The sun cast shadowed images on the wall as Mary ran towards the garden. She knew she ought to leave some sort of message for Martha or Mrs. Medlock, or else they might be worried.
Too late for that, Mary sourly thought. When I've calmed down, I'll return and apologize. I'll say that I was with Ben Weatherstaff. Or that I was wondering around the mansion. I'm sure that nobody will ask questions.
Mary ran to the garden door quickly and quietly. Grasping the rusty, cold handle, she entered the garden, closing the door behind her and locking it just to be safe. She didn't want anyone to follow her.
Once she was inside, she breathed in the sweet scent of flowers. The garden's calming atmosphere managed to soothe Mary but inside, her mind still swirled restlessly. Mary headed towards the big oak tree that she was so fond of. Perhaps there, she can lessen her anger.
However, when Mary reached the oak tree, she was surprised to see that Dickon was there.
His rusty-red hair seemed to glow in the fading sun's light. Same with his rosy cheeks that looked more rosier than usual. Even now, she was amazed how easily he was able to tame the two fox cubs, Captain and Soot and the rook, who was on his shoulder.
All her life, Mistress Mary was someone who only cared for herself. A selfish thing as Colin so clearly said. She didn't take notice of anyone else or considered their feelings. It was all about her.
But when she heard Colin insult Dickon, she couldn't stand it. Mary flew into a passion, ready to snap at a moment's notice. She even went as far to claim that Dickons was an angel. Something that she was now embarrassed of.
" I thought you went back home," she said, startling the moor boy from his work.
" Same with tha'," he replied, smiling toothily at her. At the sight of his smile, all of Mary's previous rage vanished. " As soon as tha' left, I noticed some flowers growin' by th' corner. Thought they could use a good prunin'."
" Can I help you?" She found herself suddenly shy and almost embarrassed to speaking to him. Which was odd, considering they were talked fine to each other less than one hour ago. " Only - only if you want. If you don't want to ..."
Dickon gave her another smile. " Tha's all right. I don't mind anothers company." He scooted over, beckoning Mary towards him. " See th' bulbs? They'lt be ready once spring comes 'long. Be tha' 'as to be careful. 'Em are tender."
His coarse hands were surprisingly gentle as he took her small ones and showed her how to care for the bulbs. Mary's heart began to drum wildly the moment Dickon joined his hand with hers.
She wanted to pull away but at the same time, leave her hand there. May decided the best way to deal with this was to remain silent. But she couldn't remain silent for long.
" So why did tha' come back out?" Dickon asked curiously. " I thought thee wanted to visit tha' friend."
Mary scowled. " He isn't a friend of mine. He called me a selfish thing. And quite rudely too."
Suddenly, Dickon laughed. He tried to stop, but simply ended up laughing harder than before.
For some reason, instead of feeling insulted or angered, Mary began to laugh with him as well. She hardly laughed, let alone smile, back in India. It brought a sparkle to her eyes and made her cheeks rosy like Dickon.
" Sorry," Dickon gasped, clutching his side. " I dun know wha' came over me. As soon as I saw tha' scowl, I couldn' control missen."
" It's all right. I like to laugh," Mary said. Alongside with you.
And so they worked side by side, pruning the flowers with extra care. Mary finally felt at peace. Occasionally, Dickon would tell her a story from the moor and she would tell him one in return.
Neither of them noticed how close they were sitting.
Suddenly, Mary cried out excitedly. " Ohh! Look!"
Night was upon them without them noticing. But what Mary was talking about wasn't the fact that it was dark. It was the stars. Beautiful sparkles of light that luminated the garden and everything in it.
" Even back at th' Moor, I have ne'er saw th' stars so bright," Dickon whistled, leaning against the oak tree.
A cool breeze picked up causing Mary to shiver. She unconsciously rubbed her arms for heat.
Dickon noticed her shaking. " Is tha' cold?" he asked worriedly.
" I'm fine," Mary stubbornly said, still shivering.
An arm snaked around her and Mary found herself blushing as Dickon pulled her into his lap, holding her tightly. Her head rested against his chest and his strong arms wrapped around her stomach. His warmth radiated into her. It made her feel safe and content.
Little did she know, that Dickon was as red as her and enjoyed Mary's company as much as she enjoyed his. In fact, he had always fancied her since he first laid eyes on her.
Mistress Mary was a delicate and intriguing creature. She was unlike anything else Dickon had met. One moment, she can be frowning, thoughtful, composed. The next, smiling so merrily as if nothing can go wrong. Her bright, inquistive eyes lured him to her.
At first, Dickon wasn't sure why he was feeling this way towards Mary. They had recently acquainted with each other and yet, he never ceased to think about her, whether she was in his sight or not. When he asked his mother about it, she laughed and ruffled his hair lovingly.
" I shan't believe it! My own Dickon. Already caught tha'! O' all things, ev'n at his age, he 'as it. O bless my poor soul!" She chuckled so hard that she collapsed into the nearest chair, holding her sides.
" Caught what, mother?" Dickon asked, confused.
She only smiled in reply. " You'lt find out soon, dear Dickon. Mayhaps, you should bring young Mary o'er sometime. I'd liken to meet this lass who didst capture my wick Dickon's heart."
Pondering his mother's words, Dickon did try to ask Mary to come over to his house to visit. But each time he saw her, his words got tied up in his tongue and he wasn't able to ask her.
It didn't really matter though. This moment with her, was far better than a thousand visits to his house.
The girl and the boy stayed like that for a while, watching the flowers and stars. It would seem strange as flowers only look beautiful during the daytime and stars only came to life at night.
Yet it was their opposites that made each other more breathtaking. In the light of the stars, the flowers looked like multi-coloured waves of ocean. In the multitude of the flowers, the starlight shimmered and resembled drops of crystals floating the sky. Both complimented the other and grew as the night darkened.
But something else grew in the garden that evening. And it was more beautiful and precious than any flower or star.
It was love.