“Never.” The word had cracked in Wendy’s throat, but she’d smiled through the last of her tears. “But now we’re the grownups, setting the rules, running after our children so they don’t hurt themselves.”
John’s cheeks had reddened again in a pleasing way.
“Don’t you think you’re rather getting ahead of yourself? I haven’t even asked Elizabeth yet.”
He’d folded the ring box into his pocket, his fingers straying to it again to touch it through the fabric as if to assure himself it hadn’t vanished. It made Wendy think of her own habit in St. Bernadette’s of touching her pockets and counting the items she’d stolen, and she almost laughed.
“I’m glad you’ve found someone, John. Elizabeth loves you, that much is plain, and I know you’ll be very happy together. You’ll be a good husband, and a good father someday too.”
They’d embraced again as they’d parted, but as John stepped into the courtyard, she’d called him back. He’d turned to look at her, quizzical, and she’d spoken her next words in a rush, afraid she wouldn’t get them out otherwise.
“Thank you, John, for all you tried to do for me. I can’t pretend St. Bernadette’s was easy, or that I was happy there, but I know you had my best interests at heart.”
He’d stood there, utterly at a loss for words, until she’d shooed him away.
“Go to Elizabeth, and when she’s said yes, you must both come around to celebrate. Jane will be so pleased. She adores Elizabeth and she’ll be delighted to have an aunt.”
The moment stands like a shining beacon in Wendy’s heart. She has never felt quite as close to John as in that moment, not before or since, even when she stood by his side on his wedding day, even during all those years in the nursery when she took care of him and Michael. His words come back to her, about being grown up. She wonders precisely when it happened. Was it when their parents’ ship went down, when word arrived that they would never be coming home? Was it when she married Ned, or when Jane was born? Or is it now, as she prepares to do the most grown-up thing she’s ever done—face Peter, face her childhood, and let it go for good?
Tiger Lily moves back to her side. As she does, Wendy feels a bruising edge of guilt spreading beneath her skin. Her words before were honest—she doesn’t know exactly what they will face, only that it will be dangerous. And deep down, she knows that if it means saving Jane, at the end of the day—at the end of any day—she will choose her daughter over Tiger Lily, over Peter, over herself.
“All right,” Wendy says. She adjusts Hook’s sword at her side. “I’m ready.”
HERE BE MONSTERS
A sudden gust of wind rattles the canopy of trees and Timothy simultaneously flinches upward and scrunches down, trying to escape from and hide inside his skin at the same time. Jane can’t help flinching too, but turns the motion into squeezing Timothy’s hand, an attempt at comforting him and herself both. In the dark of the canopy tunnel, Timothy looks terribly small, but Jane is glad to have him here.
As frightening as it is being responsible for someone smaller and more vulnerable than she is, she’d much rather focus on keeping him safe than think about anything else. That way she doesn’t have to worry about herself so much. She doesn’t have to worry about what lies at the end of the path they aren’t supposed to be on, or what will happen if Peter finds them, or how they’ll get home.
“I don’t like this place,” Timothy whispers.
“This is definitely the way I came before,” Jane says. “It feels…”
She stops; right isn’t the word she needs. Nothing feels right here. There’s a scent in the air like a hot iron, a feeling like a fever coming on. Even with the wind lowing in the branches, sweat prickles Jane’s skin. A rumble comes from underneath them, shivering in the soles of her feet. It’s darker here than she remembers it being in Neverland since she arrived. There’s a moon beyond the clouds, but even so it feels like the island is aware of them, trying to obscure the path and scare them into turning back. But if Neverland doesn’t want them here then it must be important, and she will find out why.
“This feels like the place we need to be,” Jane says, more loudly than necessary, because her throat wants to tighten around the words and keep her silent. “It’s just a little farther.”
She says it with confidence, even though she has no idea where they’re going. For once, the land seems to cooperate, and almost as soon as she says it, the tunnel of trees ends. And a cliff rises above them. Jane’s heart sinks. It’s almost like coming up against a sheer wall. Except here and there she sees roots and handholds. She’s never climbed a rock like this before, but it looks like something she can do.
Jane tilts her head back. The cliff is so tall she can’t see the top, and the smudgy darkness isn’t helping. Everything around them is cast in shades of brown, gray and dark blue. If she knows Peter at all, though, there wouldn’t be a cliff in Neverland if there wasn’t also some way to scale it, so there must be a way up. The only way to find out is to try.
“Stay close to me.” Jane doesn’t give herself time to doubt. She digs her fingers into a crack in the stone and hauls herself upward. She sweeps her foot across the rock face until she finds a foot hold, then she pushes herself up again, reaching for the next branch.
There isn’t enough space to twist around to see Timothy following her, but she hears him huffing and scrambling at
