Our Little Secret
by Gail Balentine
Mary Ann called one Sunday morning to chat and mentioned that traffic on her street was heavy - her next door neighbors were selling their house and it was “Open House“ day. I said I’d always wanted to see the inside of that house and was coming over.
Ten minutes later I drove to the quiet neighborhood; we met at Mary Ann’s and went to the open house together.
I had long admired the professionally landscaped outside of the neat little ranch and the inside did not disappoint. The two retired school teachers who’d lived there had decorated each room in soft colors and furnished them with graceful pieces and unique personal touches.
Mary Ann and I murmured our appreciation as we went from room to room but it was when we entered the back yard that my friend showed an emotional reaction.I heard a huge sigh and turned to see Mary Ann focused on the corner of the manicured yard. Tucked in at the juncture of the side and back fences was a perfectly tapered pine tree. It wasn’t particularly tall, maybe six feet, but I could tell from Mary Ann’s face that there was a story connected to that tree.
We went through the back gate to the front of the house and on the sidewalk, standing near where my car was parked, were two of Mary Ann’s neighbors. The three of them were soon agreeing about how much they would miss their long-time neighbors, Millie Davis and Agnes Morrison.
Mary Ann nodded toward her Garrison that overlooked the teachers’ back yard from the right side and spoke softly. “Along with the teachers, I’ll miss my little Christmas secret.” We waited expectantly for the story.
“That first year after we moved in - 30 years ago now - it snowed on the day after Thanksgiving. The girls and I had been so busy doing puzzles and laughing each time we “found Waldo” that we hadn’t noticed. When I went into the dining room to set the dinner table I looked out and saw the soft flakes coming down.
“I called to the kids. Allison and Michele were five and six years old and just tall enough to look out the window and see over the four foot fence. In front of us was a magical sight - the pine tree in the corner of the yard decked out in tiny white lights that shimmered through the soft falling snow.
“Allison said, “Oh, Mommy, look! It’s a secret Christmas tree!”
Mary Ann paused for a moment and her voice sounded wistful. “Now it’s my grandchildren’s secret tree when they come for Christmas and I know they’ll miss seeing it.”
Pat, the neighbor whose house was directly behind the teachers’ house cleared her throat and said, “Um, not a total secret, Mary Ann.”
We all turned her way. “Remember when my mother lived with us those last few years?”
Heads nodded.
“Well, she would look down from the second floor window of the bedroom that had become her world and whenever it snowed between Thanksgiving and New Year’s, she’d ask to stay sitting up just a little longer.
“She loved looking down on what she called her “secret show” - that tree decorated with twinkling lights. One time I asked her why it was so special and she said it took her back to the times when we’d help Dad string lights around a tree at the house I grew up in. Mom laughed as she remembered how every year there seemed to be more tree than lights and how she, my brother and I would tease Dad unmercifully about how it was a contest and the tree won, every time.”
As Pat stopped speaking Barbara, who lived directly across the street, started to laugh.
“Guess what, ladies? Someone else was in on your little secret.”
Mary Ann paused and then snapped her fingers. “Harry!”
“Right! Remember how, after finishing our house, Harry would go get Pete and the two of them would go across the street to shovel?
“After a while, I noticed that they finished the front quickly but seemed to take forever to do the short distance out to the back door. I asked him about it twice but all he did was smile and say was that it was their little secret. I figured the ladies had given them some spiked punch or something!”
We all laughed.
Mary Ann looked thoughtful when she said, “You know, whenever I tried to thank Agnes, she always changed the subject, like it was nothing.”
Four months later, on the night after Thanksgiving, I got another call from Mary Ann. It was hard to tell if she was laughing, crying or both. When she settled down she told me that, as it turned dark, she’d noticed it was snowing and couldn’t resist going to her dining room window. She’d looked out at the dark yard and felt sad. Just as she was about to turn away, the little tree lit up. It had all the magic of a Disney moment.
Immediately she was on the phone with her neighbors and they all agreed to meet at the teachers’ former house to say thank you to the new owners.
A pleasant young man, with whom they had each only shared a few words since he and his family had moved in, answered the door, listened to them and shook his head. He explained it was not him they should thank. Agnes and Millie had had two very good offers that were over the asking price for their house. They had been debating over which one to accept when his real estate agent had called to ask if they had made a decision. During the conversation, the agent happened to mention to Agnes that her client hoped to trim the little tree in the back yard with white lights as a Christmas treat for his children.
“Well, Miss Morrison accepted our offer then and there, with the understanding that I would light that tree every year and not just for my family but for the next door neighbors, too.” He paused, smiled and continued, “We talked about it when we signed papers. She got this knowing kind smile on her face and said ‘That tree with its twinkling Christmas lights has been our little secret for years and I think they just might miss it if it wasn’t there.’ ”
