Finding Neverland
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of this story, with the exception of Charlotte M. Turner and anything that may be associated with her and is not already under license to someone else.
Chapter 1: Charlotte"All right, Peter. I want you to go over there and cover your eyes. George, John, Michael, all of you come with me." The three boys followed James a few steps away. Porthos barked and wagged his tail. He started to get to his feet, clearly wanting to join in the game. "Stay, Porthos," James commanded his dog. The St. Bernard dutifully sat down again, his huge eyes following his master. Finally, the temptation became too great.
"Porthos! Come back here!" James, George, John, Peter, and Michael chased the dog across the wide expanse of grass.
Before they could stop him, Porthos tumbled down onto the blanket of a woman reading a book. She looked up, smiling at the huge animal, and began to scratch him behind the ears. Porthos put his head on her lap. His leg moved up and down comically. When James finally caught up with his dog, he lost sight for a moment of what he was doing.
"Excuse me, miss. I hope my dog hasn't startled you."
"Oh no, on the contrary. I've been enjoying his company, Mr.—''
"Barrie. J.M. Barrie."
"Mr. Barrie! I can't believe I'm actually meeting you!"
"The pleasure is all mine, dear lady. May I have the further pleasure of learning your name?"
"Turner. C.M. Turner. My closest confidants call me Charlotte. You may do so as well, if you wish."
"People tend to call me James."
"I think I'll stick with Mr. Barrie for now, thank you."
She smiled again. Her white teeth glowed. Blonde hair, pale skin, slender build. She seemed the very reincarnation of Sylvia. Except for her eyes. They were an odd, captivating mixture of green, brown, and violet. The galaxy one had to go through to get to Neverland, he thought.
He nodded at the book laying open on the blanket next to her. "May I ask what you're reading?"
She held up the book to show him the title: Peter Pan. "It's my favourite." She grinned shyly. "Sometimes when I'm home at night, or at odd moments during the day, I get it down off the shelf and act it out. I saw it on my out today and thought I'd bring it with me. I'm not sure what it is, but there's something about your play that I love. I'm sorry. I can't seem to stop myself from babbling like a mindless idiot. Oh, are these your sons?" The boys had appeared, grass-stained and slightly muddy.
James knew what some people had been saying about his ability to care for the boys, and he suddenly felt the need to prove them wrong. Even so, he hated to scold them for being children. "Boys! Look at you! What will your grandmother say?"
They hung their heads in shame.
"Don't worry. I'll speak to her. Boys, I'd like you to meet Miss Turner. Charlotte, this is George, John, Peter, and Michael." The boys nodded respectfully.
"All right. Go and play. And take Porthos with you."
He waited for the boys and the dog to scamper off again.
"Do you mind if I sit down?"
"Oh no. Please." She moved over a few inches. "So, those boys…"
"The Llewllyn-Davies orphans."
"Oh, of course. You are their co-guardian, aren't you?"
"Correct."
"It's been two years since their mother's death, hasn't it?"
"Nearly, yes. I suppose you've heard all about the scandal and everything."
"Naturally, of course." She blushed. "Do you have the time?"
He took out his pocket watch. "Ten to three."
"Oh dear. I really should be getting home. It was wonderful to meet you, Mr. Barrie. How often do you come here?"
"Every day, in good weather."
"Perhaps I'll see you tomorrow, then."
"That would be nice." He smiled. "Very nice," he added to himself, watching her go. He stood there a moment longer, just until she disappeared around the corner.
He went to collect Porthos and the boys. All the way home, Peter talked excitedly about the game he and his brothers had made up that afternoon; all the way home, James thought about Charlotte.