Star Showers
(part II)
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Dickon tried
not to think about the lass sitting beside him. She leaned over him to fetch a
pair o' shears from the bucket, and a lock of her hair brushed against his arm.
He wanted to take it in his hands and weave it through his fingers, testing the
softness and making it his, but he wouldn't. He couldn't.
She chattered
near as well as any nesting bird, going back and forth between the two boys
with ease. "...and, Colin, did you hear what Ben Weatherstaff said about
Cook the other day? He called her an old hen, but I think that secretly he
might fancy her a bit, codger that he is, and..."
Dickon smiled
to himself, partly because he was glad to see Miss Mary laughing and joking. It
meant that she was still wick inside, green healing even the bits she'd likely
left for dead years ago. And partly because he couldn't believe that his plan
to invite Miss Mary to watch the star showers had actually worked. Not that it
had gone exactly the way he'd pictured it in his head, but he supposed that was
all right enough. After all, how many times had he seen a fox move her kits
from the nest she'd planned months, if a hunting party was nearby?
"Dickon?" Miss Mary's hand caressed his shoulder.
He jumped and
looked 'round himself, surprised to find they were alone. "Where's Colin
gone off to?"
She laughed,
and he had to struggle to keep his wits about him. "Don't you remember?
He's having lunch with Uncle Archie today."
Dickon hit his
forehead and blushed. "O'course," he said. "Because
Mester Craven wanted to spend an extra bit o'time with his son."
"I knew
you wouldn't forget. You remember everything," Miss Mary said, and was it
him or was there something else hidden behind her words?
Dickon
stammered, "Er, what about thee? That is, what will tha' do for thy
lunch?"
"Martha
packed me a bit o' somethin' from the kitchens," Miss Mary answered, and
Dickon noticed a wrapped package sitting in her lap.
He grinned at
her use of broad
"Sometimes,
I wish I was," Miss Mary said into her lunch.
Dickon slid
next to her, taking his own sandwich out of his jacket pocket. "Aye, but why, Miss Mary? Tha' has everythin' a body
could want for."
Miss Mary
didn't answer him for a long time, busying herself with eating her lunch.
Dickon wondered what she was thinking of, but he didn't want to push her. If
she wanted him to know, she would tell him.
At last, after
he'd just about given up hope, she opened her mouth to reply.
"It's
just..." She sighed, biting her lip.
Before he
could stop himself, he put his hands over hers. "Go on,
Miss Mary. I won't make fun."
She gulped and
squeezed his fingers, causing warmth to flare up
between them that he was pretty sure wasn't only coming from the heat of the
sun. Both of them gasped, and Miss Mary tried again. "It's just...
something that Miss Medlock says to me sometimes. She says that when I'm grown,
we won't be permitted to be together anymore, because you're too... too...
common," she sniffled, looking up at him with tears in her lashes.
Her last words
were said in a whisper, but it was still loud enough to pierce through Dickon's
heart. It was everything he himself had been thinking for a long time. Even
though Miss Mary was his mate sure as robins nesting in the spring, he was too
common for her. They could never be.
He ran a thumb
across her cheek, swiping away the wetness while Miss Mary shivered underneath
him. "There now," he soothed. "Worry not. Tha' will forget all
about the likes o' me once tha' gets out into the world."
"I
won't," Mary declared, her eyes never leaving his. And Dickon noted a bit
of the old fire lighting up her face. "I shall never forget you, Dickon.
You're not like anybody else. You belong..." her voice faltered, and she
covered her heart with one shaking hand. "...here."
Dickon's eyes widened, and his heart bumped a skip in his chest. He
breathed deeply, trying to steady himself. He couldn't let himself believe. Not
right now. Not when there were too many years left for her to change her mind.
"Miss
Mary," he breathed. "Tha' doesn't know what tha' wants yet. Tha'art
too young to be talkin' o' such serious things..."
Miss Mary blew
her hair off her forehead and faced him. "I don't mean to be serious,
Dickon," she said, touching his arm. "I know you think I'm too young,
and you're right. You're young too. But that doesn't mean I'm going to change
my mind, because I won't. I can wait."
Dickon had to
laugh at the stubborn look the lass had fixed on her face. How often had he
seen that look, when she got it in her head to do something? How much did he
love it when he saw that look? He let his heart hope, just a bit, that she
meant it. She wouldn't forget.
"Eh,"
he said, reaching out and tugging at one of the bows all done up fancy in her
hair. She giggled, and he smiled. "That's enough big talk for today, lass.
There's plans to be made, after all."
"Plans?" Miss Mary echoed, gazing at him.
"The star
showers?" he teased. "Surely tha' hasn't forgotten already."
She clapped a
hand over her mouth. "Oh yes," she said through her fingers, making
him laugh.
"Meet me
outside tonight, after it gets good 'n dark."
"Where
shall we go to get a good view of the sky?" Miss Mary asked.
Dickon rolled
onto his back and pulled her down beside him. The clouds arched above them,
making him feel small and endless all at the same time. "Where does tha'
think?"
She hit him
playfully, and he tickled her ribs, causing her to laugh and squirm. And
underneath the sky's watch they tumbled together in the garden, good and green
and wick all around them.
to be continued... :)