A Chance to Grow (A Secret Garden Sequel)

Chapter Seven

                                                                     Chapter Seven

Dickon felt the first cool drops of water fall from the Heavens as he completed his work for the evening. The garden was in fine array with full blossoms turning their thirsting faces to the sky to bathe in rainwater. Dickon, not wanting to join them in their evening bathe, pulled his brown woolen jacket on and put away his gardening tools. It would be a long walk to his cottage and starting home now might prevent him from being doused.

Stepping out of the garden, Dickon turned and locked the door. A branch rustled to his right, and when he turned to see which animal might have come to accompany him on his walk, he saw Mary Lennox standing before him.

"Lass! What is thee doin' out in this rain? Tha'd best get back to tha house—"

"I was concerned about you getting home safely and wanted to offer you my horse for the journey," she said, stepping closer to him and under an overhanging branch.

"That's very kind of thee," Dickon said. "But tha'd best get inside before you catch your death."

"Are you going home straightaway or would you maybe…like to come inside for some tea? I can make it myself."

Dickon watched her carefully and weighed his options. Surely the house would be dark and quiet and his presence might seem inappropriate or even an intrusion. Mary should have stayed inside where it was dry and warm, but here she was, offering her horse for his journey and a cup of tea to keep him warm for his travel.

"I don't think it'd be right, coming inside at this hour without Lord Craven or Mrs. Medlock to permit me," he said carefully.

Mary looked down at her feet. "I suppose it isn't like when we were children, is it? I can't even invite you for tea."

"It's not that, lass," Dickon said quietly. Rain drops fell heavy upon them and he quickly pulled Mary over into the shelter of the doorway. Thick ivy still grew in tendrils all around it, shielding them from the elements. They stood together for a moment in the darkness, not speaking. Dickon took the opportunity to look down at her and admire her soft milky skin and rose red lips. She had grown into a fine young woman.

"What is it, then?" she asked, turning her face to him.

It was all Dickon could do not to kiss her – it was almost as if she were asking him to. He fought with himself, knowing all of the reasons why he shouldn't do it, why they could never be together. And still, deep inside there spoke a small voice which urged him to take her in his arms and break the silent barrier between them. She would know then that he loved her, not as a friend but as the cultured, educated and beautiful woman she'd become.

"It's…" his voice trailed off. Her eyes help such a pleading look, he knew he would be lost if did not regain control of himself. With great effort, he broke from her wide-eyed stare. "It's…" There were no words, no reason to tell. He couldn't remember anymore.

"Dickon," she began.

"Mary," he said resignedly, "I need to tell thee something, but I'm afraid."

"What is it?" Her voice was soothing and gentle.

"I have been thinking of this for a time now and there's never been a moment to speak with thee without someone else hovering about. I fear it may cause you to be vexed with me but I cana keep it from thee any longer." The words flowed from his lips, hesitant words filled with the feeing that he might be destroying everything between them. If Mary did not love him, he would look a fool to have poured out his soul. But no, his mother had taught him to be candid and search his own heart. It would not lead him astray. He hadn't been wrong about Mary at the start, and now should be no different. So he forged ahead, speaking the words that could either join them or divide them forever.