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“Penny for your thoughts?”
Startled by the quiet voice, Hugh looked up from where he’d been weeding the tomatoes and found himself staring into Fiona’s eyes, green like the plants in the garden that surrounded them.
As usual they were spending the morning outdoors and in the garden weeding and watering and enjoying the late summer day.
Hugh shrugged and wiped at his brow with the back of his gloved hand. “Only thinking.”
“Hmm… a dangerous pastime..” She tilted her head, eyes narrowed beneath her straw sunhat, a mock serious expression on her face. “And I can tell it was something serious because you always get this little wrinkle between your eyes just there –” She broke off reaching out between the row of tomato plants she was knelt on the other side of and poked him between the eyes with a dirt-smeared finger for emphasis. “When you think about something too hard.”
He ducked away wiping at his forehead and only succeeded in smearing more dirt around his face. “Ugh, you’ll get me all dirty.” He laughed.
Fiona grinned. “You were already dirty; look at you.” She gestured to the streaks on his arms above the gardening gloves he wore. She as usual wore no gloves preferring to go in barehanded – something Horace bemoaned constantly.
Hugh lifted his glasses and looked down, studying himself. “So I am, for all my efforts.” There were smudges of dirt on his trousers and one side of his shirt as well. “I suppose that’s what comes of woolgathering.”
Fiona leaned forward, resting on her hands, her smile fading. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Hugh grinned and scrubbed at his face. “It’s nothing serious, I promise you, but if you must know I was thinking about us.” He gave up on his face and reached for a few determined weed sprouts.
“Oh?” She was intrigued and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Still happy you met me then?”
His grin faded and his eyes went soft. “Everyday. Meeting you was like the sun coming out after a long and dark winter. I’d spent years thinking I was the only one like me. And then there was you.” He swallowed. “And I wasn’t alone anymore.”
She frowned and her eyes held a faraway look. “I remember one morning I went to get us bread and when I came back you were standing out in the street; I’d never seen someone look so lost,” she finished softly.
“Yeah,” Hugh cleared his throat. “I was afraid you’d disappeared; afraid I’d dreamed you up.” He let out a small self-conscious laugh. “I really didn’t want to be alone; having a friend made life so much easier to bear.”
Fiona smiled softly and reached out a hand, cupping his face. “Well, you haven’t dreamt me up and I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
His grin returned, the mood shifting instantly. “And I hope to be suck with you many years more, Miss Frauenfeld.” He reached up to cover her hand with his and lean into her touch. Then he turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to the palm.
Fiona bit her lip, cheeks flushing in pleasure, though she made a half-hearted attempt to pull away. “My hands are all dirty, Hugh.”
A slow grin crept across his face. “Disregard everything I said before; a bit of dirt is well worth it if I can get you all flustered.”
“Hugh –“ she began, her breath catching in her throat as he stripped off his gloves and took her hand, turning it over and pressing a kiss to the back slowly, his golden-brown eyes on her the entire time as the world around them faded away.
She sighed, half longing, half gentle annoyance, but didn’t try to pull away. “Why are you doing this to me in the garden of all places?”
He straightened up slowly, caressing her hand in his. “Where would you like me to do it?” The question was posed innocently enough but one corner of his mouth curled slyly. “It can’t be your room since you share with Emma and Bronwyn or maybe it could if we waited until they weren’t around.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
Fiona’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, but she held his gaze. “Well, at least I know you’d be up for the challenge of getting into my room.”
The ghost of a smile widened into a full-on shit-eating grin. “I’m up for any challenge when it comes to you. For example, we could sneak out here after everyone’s gone to bed then I wouldn’t have to restrict my kisses to your hand.”
Fiona gaped at him. “Mr. Apiston, you are unbelievable.”
He kissed her fingers. “And yet here I sit in the flesh. Should I pinch you to prove I’m real?”
One of his hands drifted down her arm and she grabbed it with her free hand.
“Don’t you dare,” she warned, fighting back a smile. “You’ve gotten entirely too bold, sir.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Have I?”
“You have.” She leaned in close, green eyes staring into gold unflinchingly, all traces of embarrassment gone. “But I have ways of getting even.”
That said she reached out and curled her hand into the hair at the back of his head, dragging him to her and kissing him fiercely, all open mouth and tongue, for once heedless of who might be watching from a window. Hugh leaned in eagerly.
When at last she pulled away his eyes fluttered open, and he grinned once more though this time it was softer. “It seems you were right: thinking is a dangerous pastime, but if this is to be my punishment I’ll gladly suffer at your hands.”
She sat back and shook her head, laughing. “Such a flirt, but what made you think so seriously about us?”
Hugh shifted to sit cross-legged in the dirt row between the cabbages and the tomatoes. “I was thinking how it’s nearly been a year since we came here, a year that we’ve been together and I realized we sort of just happened; we talked that one day and after that we were us.”
Fiona stood and stepped through gap in the tomato plants carefully before settling down on the dirt in front of Hugh, mirroring his pose, their knees nearly touching. “Should it have been different?” she asked, leaning toward him, elbows on knees, a smile on her face.
He shook his head. “No, but today I realized I forgot to ask you something, so I’ll ask now.”
Fiona tilted her head and sat up, confused but intrigued. “Alright then.”
Hugh cleared his throat and tried to look dignified with his dirt smudges and mussed hair. “Fiona Caitlín Frauenfeld, would you be my sweetheart?”
Fiona had been unsure of what he was going to ask but at his words dissolved into helpless laughter. Hugh had asked her to be his girl when they’d been together a year. She collapsed forward, her head on his shoulder as she shook with laughter.
Beneath her Hugh huffed and wrapped his arms around her. “Well, this is unexpected, but can I assume your answer is yes?”
She lifted her head, taking his face in her hands. “Of course I’ll be your sweetheart; I’ve been yours for a long while now; you needn’t have asked.” She brushed a thumb over his cheek and his arms tightened around her.
He frowned. “Well, I wanted to do things proper, though I’m afraid I don’t have anything to give you, no token of affection.”
Fiona went suddenly still as if remembering something important, pulling away as one hand drifted to the bit of silver showing at the collar of her dress, the look on her face turning pensive and far away. Then she tugged the chain and drew it out.
“Fiona –“ Hugh began as he watched her reach behind her neck and unclasp the necklace.
She laid it in her palm and pulled the chain free, coiling it in her lap. Left in her cupped hand were two matching claddagh rings, silver with two hands holding a crowned heart.
“Fiona, no.” Hugh reached out and closed her fingers on the rings. “Those belonged to your parents.”
She smiled up at him and it was tinged with sadness. “I’ve carried these with me since I left my village all those years ago. They’re the only things I have left of my parents. They were worn in love, perhaps they could be again.”
She gently brushed Hugh’s hand away and lifted the bigger of the two rings. “Try it if you like; see if it fits.”
He took it, cupped reverently in his palm. “You’re sure?”
She nodded. “I am.”
He glanced up. “How do I wear it? Left hand ring finger?
In answer she took the ring from him and inverted it, sliding onto the third finger. She laughed as she tried to work it over the knuckle. “Why don’t you give it a go?”
He flexed his finger, shifting the ring back and forth until it was in place, then held out his hand for her to admire. “Fits like it was made for me.” He frowned. “But why the right hand and why upside down?”
She took his hand in hers once more. “The right hand with the heart facing out means you are unattached, inverted it means your heart is taken.” She held up the smaller of the two, the one meant for her and tapped the hands. “They mean friendship, the beginning of any relationship.” Her finger brushed the heart at the center. “The heart is love, the core of a relationship.” She tapped the top. “Lastly the crown means loyalty.”
He stared down at the ring on his hand. “You’re absolutely sure about this, Fiona?”
Her smile faltered. “If it’s strange – odd, you don’t have to wear it.”
Hugh shook his head. “No, of course I’ll wear it. Only, I know these mean a lot to you.”
Fiona’s smile returned. “You mean everything to me.”
Hugh reached out and took the remaining ring from her. “Come on, you did me, now let me do you.”
She held out her right hand as he inverted the heart and slipped the ring on her finger. It was also a perfect fit.
Fiona’s parents hadn’t been much older than her and Hugh when they’d married so many years before.
“There.” Hugh leaned down and kissed her fingers again. “Now it’s official.”
They each sat, heads bent, silently contemplating the rings, shining silver in the late morning sun, and what they meant for their future.
Everyone in the household knew Hugh and Fiona were a couple, they had arrived together and spent much of their waking hours in each other’s company, but this exchanging of rings was a new step in their relationship. This exchanging of rings marked both of them for the household to see.
Yours.
Mine.
Us.
I belong to you.
You belong to me.
We belong together.
Finally, Hugh broke the silence. “I’ve never worn a ring before, but I’m proud to wear yours, Sweetheart.”
Fiona’s face broke into a wide smile. She always smiled best and brightest when she was with Hugh. “Do you think they’ll notice?”
Hugh raised his eyebrows. “The others? Absolutely, though Miss Peregrine will undoubtedly be the first; nothing gets by her.”
Fiona glanced behind Hugh to the house. “And it’s almost time for elevenses; we’ll all be in the kitchen, and someone’s bound to notice straight away – most likely Emma.”
Hugh grinned. “We’ll see who gets there first.” He stood and offered her his hand, pulling her to her feet. “Wait a moment.” He stooped and picked up the forgotten necklace that had fallen from Fiona’s lap and the hat that had been knocked from her head when she’d kissed him.
He settled it back on her dark hair, then unclasped the necklace and fastened it back around her neck. “We’ll have to get you something else to put on there now.”
She shook her head and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder as they started across the lawn towards the house. “I have you; I don’t need anything else.”
The garden could wait, they had each other, and the future was bright with possibilities – and the thought of causing a minor disturbance it tea.