I own nothing relating to the book or films.

But this piece is mainly based on the 1993 film.

"The robin says he's been waiting for you. The animals tell me all their secrets."

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"All secrets are safe with me."

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"The rain will help our flowers grow."

—Dickon to Mary

-.-.-

I have learned to love my cousin as part of my family and as one of my dearest friends. Years ago, it had grown very clear to me that all he ever needed from the beginning was a simple chance. I gave him that chance to prove himself, and neither of us regrets it.

And presently, I am acknowledging young proud Colin as my potential future groom. Cousins marry cousins if necessary—it has been this way for decades. Noble Families still see the importance in preserving the English Manors and their bloodlines. And even though the final announcement has not been made yet, I can sense it is nearing. My seventeenth birthday was only a month away, and I knew society didn't want me husbandless forever.

I never complain openly about these things. I hardly let my temper get the better of me anymore. In fact, I hardly protest against anything nowadays—then again, why start now? Why should I criticize the adult decisions I am forced to face? I am not really in any position to do so; not since my uncle had offered me his affection and security all this time. I cannot turn my back on that.

Besides, I do suppose Colin will be the best match for me in the end. At least he's a familiar face in place of a line of strange suitors my uncle will have to contact otherwise. I know that I can always count on Colin when the circumstance truly called for it. We still have our friendship anyhow, so I imagine a public union won't change it that much.

I can assume Colin will be satisfied to proclaim us as husband and wife, since he's already hinted at it once or twice before. And even if I didn't feel any differently towards him than when we were garden-playmates myself, I cannot ruin that trust so selfishly. (If what has been written about real romance is true...its spark of excitement and heartwarming passion, then I do not believe I am necessarily in love with Colin.) But Instead I figure it will be better to live with a friendly sort of love forever than to have no love at all. Marrying Colin is a stable and practical plan to cling to if there is no other option.

As for the second young male companion I willingly keep at my side, it's Dickon, naturally, And I do not care if outsiders say he's nothing more than a stable boy, a grounds keeper.

I can never think to turn Dickon away. He is the only other person I can deeply confide in. Wholly and unconditionally. There is just something...something about him that I simply cannot resist! He is one of a kind; and always reflects a kind of mysterious energy I thrive on. There has been days when I didn't have the chance to meet up with him, and then, that's all I want to do. I feel all apprehensive on the inside and my patience wears thin until he's actually physically in my reach. He is always so thoughtful and tolerant—fluid and cheerful—and unbelievably gifted at taming the flora and fauna, big and small, tender or wild. He is so unlike any other boy I had ever met, which includes Colin and his newfound friends from the city.

One afternoon, as the two of us rode horseback down a private nature trail off the moors, I feel my growing curiosity about him definitely consuming me. It simmers and bubbles over until finally I strike the conversation I've been itching to have with him, "Uh, Dickon?" I call to him.

He slows his white steed a little to look at me directly. We are now side by side, trotting at a much more leisurely pace. "Aye. What is it Miss Mary?"

"Are you a...faerie?" I continue with cautious anticipation in my tone, "...I mean, in disguise?"

Dickon merely chuckles at this and he gives another gentle kick to gallop on ahead again. I happily follow suit.

That wasn't exactly a yes.

But, it also wasn't a no.

The next morning Colin and I sit together at our little favorite reading table in the main library. It is time for our lessons.

My curiosity is possessing me like a mad spirit once again, causing my concentration to diminish, and I ultimately find myself forgetting the open books sprawled out before us.

"Do you think Dickon has magic?" I suddenly ask Colin, who is busy writing down his notes at the moment.

The steady scratching of his quill across the parchment immediately ceases and he glances up from his paperwork with a somewhat hesitant, bitter expression, "What do you mean?"

"It's just that...I know believing in something is considered a smaller type of magic, but lately I've been wondering if Dickon knows real magic? He's so in tuned with the animals and herbs, you know? He helped the Secret Garden become what it is now, we both know that. And the moment I told Dickon I had permission to plant the seeds, it started to rain, like it was Dickon's will telling the sky to rain down on us right then and there. He also taught you how to chant to summon your father back home. It's almost as if nature's a part of who he is. What do you say about that?"

"Our maid, Martha surely doesn't seem magical in the real sense," Colin sneered at me. He appears to be in another one of his haughty moods today. Or he simply didn't favor me interrupting his progress. "Why should her brother?"

I look up at the ceiling, slowly twirling my own quill between my fingertips as I dive deeper into thought and recall on any other information I know about magical stories and spiritual journeys, "Perhaps Dickon was switched shortly after birth, late at night, and he is actually the babe's Replacement. Till this day, no one ever knew about it."

Colin is clearly not as invested into Dickon's history as I am right now, because he simply rolls his eyes and returns to his notes. "Whoever would want to trade him in for a peasant child?"

"Faeries prefer having a low profile?" I predicted innocently, throwing my theories everywhere at him.

"Utter nonsense, Mary." He scoffed louder this time around, shaking his head in resentment, maybe even childish jealously. "Dickon is probably not as grand as you make him out to be. If you want to see something really amazing, come to the city with me again, and I'll take you to the biggest attractions, like the newest automobile models they have. They're more perfected now; I'm thinking about buying one for myself soon if Father lends me the remaining half of the money. I could take you on loads of rides!"

My brow furrows on its own accord and I shoot back at him, "You didn't always used to think what I believed in was utter nonsense!"

The way I completely ignored his flaming fascination with automobiles and the glamorous city life seems to irk Colin more so.

So again he rolls his handsome eyes, and puts up his spreading fingers up in surrender, hindering to my displeasure, "Fine." He concludes curtly, as if he really intends to say Grow up, Mary! "If I ever see some proof that our dear Dickon does have real magic, I'll be the first apologize."

I angled my chin at him in a proud manner that rivaled his. "Someday you just might have to."

Few rainy days pass and today's weather is back to being perfect. It's quite warm, but the gentle wind helps to even out the heat.

Colin and my uncle are about to leave for some apparent business at the bank. I on the other hand, politely decline to join them, wanting to check on the Garden. Colin could have refused too, but he is getting more eager to ensure his important role in society. And I remind myself to be delighted by this. If anything, I do admire my cousin's sheer determination to break free from the old gossip about his poor health and weak state of mind. He also can't stop talking about the chance to attend a private school on the other side of the country to study the popular sciences and philosophy within the next year or so.

I sigh.

He was once a fawn who learned to use his fragile legs, and now he's become a stag, trying to make it through the world in the best way he can.

Dickon in contrast, has no problem in passing up opportunities likes these. He is more of a Pagan soul, if I am so bold to ever say out loud. He's one who finds more value in the natural riches the earth can grant him over modern technology. I can't exactly picture him replacing his beloved horses for a new automobile.

Dickon currently wanders along behind me, gathering a bouquet of carefully-picked flowers in his grip. Turning onto the next part of the Garden's pathway, we soon have two green walls of shrubs towering on either side of us.

Sunshine seeps through the winding braches and speckle the stone with spots of yellow light beneath our leisure footsteps.

I spin on my heels now, gazing up at him, hands folding behind my skirts. He smiles silently in return and still steps forward each time I pace backwards. I then tell him, "The other day had me thinking. Maybe you are a faerie, a shepherd of the forests. And all this time I should have been calling you 'Pan' instead of 'Dickon?' You even know how to play the flute like Pan does in stories."

"Pan is a God of Old," Dickon corrects me, "not a faerie himself."

Upon hearing this, I lift my finger and tap it into his chest excitedly. "Ha-ha! So, you still admit it, then? You do know about magical things! Of the real kind!"

The breeze catches up with us again, caressing our skin and our clothes. Dickon momentarily brushes a long stray curl out of my eyes, tucking it back. Then he drops his hand, responding with, "Well, I would like to know why Miss Mary wants my confession so badly."

"So, you are one?" I try again, "At least you must be half-Fae, right, Dickon?"

His grin widens, and he replaces his full attention to his bouquet. "I should get back to pickin' flowers for The Queen."

The Queen? I tilt my head, not comprehending this.

Dickon has an audience with the Queen? Why, what for? How?

"The Queen of England?" I let out with confusion. "You're seeing her? How'd did you manage that without telling me?"

His head is thrown back into the air once he begins to laugh harder, the delighted sound rings in my ears like wind chimes. "Nay, of course these aren't for her, Miss Mary."

He walks back in the other direction.

"Then why say such a thing?!" I push after Dickon while he selects another white rose and two more large lilies before he's tying the numerous stems together with a simmering blue ribbon he happens to pull out of his pocket. "What kind of game are you playing at, Mister Pan-Dickon, Child of the Moors?"

His shrewd eyes eventually meet mine again. I've seen that charming expression of his before, too. Back when were getting our photographs taken by Colin up on the Garden's swing. I dare not look away. "Let's get thee back to the 'ouse," he murmurs after a standstill minute, "dusk is nearin'. And I have somewhere to go tonight."

"But, Dickooon...," I moan in protest, almost whining like a child who's been denied dessert at the dinner table.

"Come on," he urges knowingly, taking my hand.

"I'm going to ask you about this tomorrow." I warn the back of his head as we tread towards the Garden's entrance.

I want to know who this so-called Queen is, and want to know why Dickon wishes to praise her with all those flowers!

His amused voice is anything but sorry. "Aye, I know, Miss Mary."

But before I give in entirely, I add, "Just give me a hint. Who is the Queen?"

"You would know her if you saw her," he promises me. "Her name has been written."

I keep on milking the riddled conversation for all that it's worth, right down to the last drop. "...Will I ever get to see her, Dickon?"

Before he releases me, he snorts teasingly. "Only if the Veil between your dreams and your truths is thin enough to reveal Her. When Spring can be seen in the Winter."

Weeks later, after I am finally fresh-seventeen, Dickon and I are just heading out of the Garden as usual when I can't hold back in my suppressed anxieties any longer.

I open my mouth and everything that worries me now, comes flooding out. "Dickon...if I married soon, would you hold it against me?"

"Never."

"And if I...," I swallow awkwardly, "married Colin, would you hate me for it?"

"Nothing ever grows from hate, Miss Mary."

"As glad as I am to have your blessing, I still don't think I can do it."

"Do what, Miss Mary?"

"Become a real English Lady...," I finally admitted this for the first time in what feels like ages. "I know I shouldn't protest since my uncle had taken me in out of love, and I owe that to him, but all these people Colin wants me to associate with...the boys wearing polished shows and bowties, and those giggling girls who carry around fancy parasols even though it's not raining outside...none of that really feels like me. That's not what I'm needing."

"And what do you need?"

"I need magic in my life, Dickon. Always. It's what saved me from becoming a hollow shell of a girl before. If I don't get a husband who believes in adventures or faeries, I'm certain I'll be stuck in a long, uncomfortable marriage."

"Miss Mary," Dickon soothes, putting his hands on my shoulders. "They adore you too much now to force you into an unhappy situation. If it doesn't even feel right to marry Colin, then simply don't do it."

"But I mustn't become an old spinster either...and if it is not Colin, it's bound to be another suitor."

Dickon smiles his typical 'Dickon smile,' staring at me as if I were creating too much of a fuss over nothing at all. "You still have some time. I do not see Colin running towards you right now, requesting all sorts of promises."

I nod in agreement, realizing he has made his point once again.

And before I can stop myself to think of the consequences, I am leaning...leaning into him, pressing on the toes of my boots and I place a fleeting kiss upon his lips. And I feel Dickon return the sentiment while it lasts.

When I pull away, my insides are tingling slightly. He breathes in once heavily, takes my hand then, leading me home for it's already supper time...

I slip through the side door of the Manor, glancing at Dickon who stays planted on at the bottom of the small staircase, waiting until I'm safely inside.

And for some reason, as I shut the shut the barrier between us, I get this urge to peak out the nearest open window to look at him one more time for the night.

I pull the swaying curtain aside and Dickon's thankfully still within speaking distance...though before I can say anything out to him further, I see our old friend, the robin, flit down towards Dickon's welcoming palm which distracts him from noticing my prying gaze. I watch the scene before me with a strong inner wave of awe and bewilderment.

So I actually let my jaw drop open part-way. I know Dickon had his way of taming animals, but I've never seen him do something like this...

The robin tweeted right at Dickon, as if he is actually speaking to him! Dickon's compassionate eyes are on him the whole time, taking in every little note that is sung.

And after a moment when the robin pauses, Dickon raises his a free finger to his smirking mouth, and releasing an evident, "Shh..."

With that, he strolls away, heading for the twilight-colored horizon with the robin flying in happy circles above his head. I blink once, and they're both gone.

Astounded, I depart from the widow as well, not sure what else to do.

Dickon...he...

I shake my head.

Just remember...it doesn't have to make sense. It's the whole idea of it, the idea of magic.

I hear a man calling my name (my uncle, I gather) and it's enough to make me start moving faster again. "Coming!" I shout back on instinct.

Aye, I think as I finally approach the dining room. I will give Colin my attention whenever I can, and I shall never stop trying. Though giving him my whole heart one day may be a bit trickier than I had thought, because I am starting to consider it had already belonged to another. Somebody else very close to me.

Somebody—magical.

O, but will I tell?

Probably not yet...since the best things you stumble upon in life, stay the best when they are kept in secret.

-.-.-

"If you make them the open the door like that...if everybody finds out, it wouldn't be a secret anymore. Don't you see how much better it is as a secret?"

—Mary and Colin, 1993 Film

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