Disclaimer: Peter Pan, all characters, places, and related terms belong to J.M. Barrie. The plot belongs to little ol' me.
Author's Note: This plot bunny I got a day or so ago. This turned out to be longer than I expected. Enjoy and please let me know what you think.
What a Lovely Day for a Wedding!
Michael Darling has a cold. He caught it five days ago.
All the children had spent the afternoon at the Mermaids' Lagoon. It had rained the previous day, and while it was warm in the sun, there had been a cool breeze which added a faint chill to the air. Wendy had become cold and suggested they return to the house under the ground; but Peter claimed to be terribly hot, and all the other boys had echoed his words. So they had stayed.
That night and the following morning everyone had a small case of the sniffles, cough, or chill. But they had quickly shaken it off. But Michael, being the youngest and smallest of the boys, was not strong enough to shake off his cough. So it had stayed and intensified. By the following night he had a chill; the next afternoon he got the sniffles. And three days ago he came down with a fever. All this resulted in a summer cold.
Wendy had put him to bed when his cough stayed. While sorry for Michael that he was feeling so poorly, she has not been alarmed for him. This is not his first cold, and she is sure that within a few days he shall make a complete recovery. The girl takes great delight in nursing him; she feels she is performing her first real motherly duty.
While Michael bemoans not being able to go above ground and play with the others, he has been a good patient. He takes his medicine without complaining and mostly sleeps well during the night. When he does become restless, Wendy will sing until he falls back asleep. Usually during the afternoon she amuses him by telling stories.
Today it is nearing five o'clock, and Michael, who has been allowed out of bed for a little while by Wendy, plays on the floor. Wooden figures of him, Wendy, the boys and their captain, and Hook and his crew (carved by Peter himself) are at the end of a great long battle. Hook lies on the ground while Peter gloats over him triumphantly. Michael smiles down at the figures. "Another fine victory," he says, trying to sound like Peter.
Wendy sits in her rocker, sewing the last few stitches in Curly's shirt. Soon it will be time for her to cook supper. Softly she hums under her breath.
Michael gathers his toys together and puts them away neatly, except for the figures of Hook, Peter, and Wendy, which he takes with him back to his basket. He gets in and lies down, putting the toys on top of his blanket, and hugs his teddy bear tightly. Several minutes later, when Wendy passes by, he calls her softly.
"Yes, Michael?" she stands next to his basket and places a hand on his forehead. "Are you well?"
"Yes, thank you," he assures her, and then asks, "Did you go outside today?"
"Yes," she replies as she gets him a drink of water. "I went up early this morning."
"Is it a lovely day?" The boy sits up and accepts the small cup she offers him.
"Yes, it is a glorious day," she answers, smiling as her brother's face lights up. "The sun was shining. There was hardly a cloud in the sky; and those that I did see were the whitest, fluffiest clouds you ever saw. They looked like great, soft, warm pillows. The sky was blue like the bluebirds that sing each morning and the ribbon in Nana's bonnet. The grass was fresh and green. The flowers were blooming and smelled, oh, so lovely." Wendy sighs. "It is a beautiful day!"
"What a lovely day for a wedding!" Michael exclaims happily.
Wendy smiles, though a little puzzled.
"Was the day this lovely when Mother and Father got married?" he asks, curious. "I was not here to see it, though I wish I could have!" He gazes into his sister's face. "Do you know what their wedding day was like?"
The girl blinks quickly several times. She is surprised by his question. Tucking some orange hair behind her ears, she sits down.
"Well, I also did not see Father and Mother marry. Do you remember what she told us about her wedding?"
"Oh, please tell me!" Michael pleads and clasps his hands together.
"Ah, very well," she consents with a smile.
Grinning widely, the lad burrows out from his blanket and looks at her with excited expectation.
"Sometimes when Mother tucked you, John, and me in bed for the night, she would sit at the foot of one of our beds and tell us about her wedding," Wendy begins.
"She and Father married in the autumn, when the leaves were no longer green but orange, red, and yellow, and you could smell a hint of winter in the air."
"Father always loved autumn," Michael interrupts.
His sister nods. "They both did. They were married in the parlor of her mother's home. There were so many guests: Father's parents and grandparents and friends; all of Mother's cousins and aunts and uncles, and that one great-uncle from America. Mother's sister was her bridesmaid.
"Her dress was white like snow, trimmed with lace. And she had a lovely veil. Her bouquet was roses, daisies, and marigolds.
"The parlor had been decorated with lilies and bluebells. Mother said she hardly recognized the room. She was given away by Uncle Andrew, for grandpapa, her father, had died several years before.
"Mother cried during the ceremony, as did her sister and mother and aunts. Father claims not to have shed a tear, but Mother says he stumbled over his words when he placed the ring on her finger."
"It was a lovely wedding," Michael sighs with contentment. "I wish I could have been there."
"Me, too," Wendy says. "Father and Mother went to Paris for their honeymoon."
"Did she not wish for something special?" the boy asks anxiously, his eyes wide.
Wendy pretends to think. "Yes, there was something she wished for after her wedding. She wished to have a little girl and boy. But most of all…"
"What?"
"Most of all she longed for a baby named Michael."
Michael's face fills with happiness. "And I came!"
"Yes, you did."
Both children grow quiet, becoming lost in their own thoughts.
"Mother and Father did love each other truly, did they not?" Michael breaks the silence first.
"Aye, they did."
"Why did they argue sometimes?"
"Because loves are never perfect or without trouble; all mothers and fathers don't get along sometimes." Wendy frowns slightly.
"True love!" Michael declares in a high voice.
His sister giggles.
"I'm sorry I could not attend Mother and Father's wedding. But I shall be able to see yours and Peter's."
Wendy stares at her brother, understanding yet not understanding his meaning. She and Peter's… "Wedding?" is all she manages to say aloud, thoroughly shocked. A roar rises in her ears, and her heart gallops wildly.
"Aye," Michael sits up. "Oh, you will, won't you? I do so wish to see a wedding." When Wendy wordlessly gapes at him, he asks, "Do you not love each other?"
"Why I can hardly say," she stammers in reply, her blue eyes wide like an owl's. "We are only children. He is captain, after all. He is content to be a father to you and the boys." She tries to gather her scattered thoughts and composure.
He objects, "But Uncle Mark said he was in love with Aunt Susan since they were seven."
"You know how he liked to tease us."
"He wasn't teasing," he persists. "Do you love each other?" he asks again.
Blushing hotly, Wendy tries to find an answer. "Of course, we are fond of each other, just as we are of you and the boys. I'm sure Peter has no time for thoughts of love or marriage."
Michael gazes at her thoughtfully. "Does he like your stories?"
"I believe so, most of them."
"He has gone hunting for fish and rabbit to help you with preparing the meals, hasn't he?"
"Yes."
"He showed you the island when you recovered from your faint before he showed me and John the island."
"That's true."
"He rescued you from drowning at Mermaids' Lagoon and made you get home by John's kite."
"Aye."
"He does not like it when you are unhappy. He wishes for you to be well. You always talk him into dancing on Thursdays," Michael points out. "He requests a thimble some nights. He taught you to fight with a dagger; and he or Slightly are to go with you if you must go out after nightfall."
"I suppose that is all true," Wendy admits slowly, still not able to comprehend.
"He loves you," Michael proclaims after a beat, nodding seriously and confidently.
"Michael!" the girl exclaims loudly, scandalized or hopeful she does not know.
"I believe he does," the lad says, still nodding. "He watches you."
"No more than he watches you all!" she protests quickly, too quickly. She knows exactly what her brother is referring to. "You must be mistaken. Peter only does all those things because I am the only girl in the family. He despises mothers."
"Except you," Michael quickly pipes in.
Wendy goes on as though she has not heard him. "Even if he did wish to marry me, which I know he does not want to, we are too young. Only adults can get married in London," she tries to convince him…and herself.
Her brother gives her a confused look. "But this isn't London; we're in Neverland. Things are so different here; surely you and Peter could marry," he informs her sincerely.
Wendy quickly opens her mouth in protest only to pause as his words sink in. This is Neverland which is not at all governed by the same rules as London. There is a hint of truth to what he said. The girl slowly closes her mouth and simply blinks at her brother, turning twelve different shades of pink. She clenches her hands so hard her nails bite into her palms. For a moment she feels she might faint, but the world steadies.
Michael gives his speechless sister a small smile. "Do promise to send me an invitation!" And then he lies back down and quietly plays with the figures that have been resting peacefully on his blanket.
Wendy watches him play for a second. Surely he must be mistaken. Peter does not…feel that for her. She is sure he has never even heard of that word. She is simply his friend and mother. And that is why he has done all those things Michael mentioned.
Still in all astonishment, the girl slowly climbs to her feet and goes about to fix the meal. She can think of nothing but what her brother has said: "But this isn't London; we're in Neverland. Things are so different here; surely you and Peter could marry." The girl blushes anew and swallows thickly. She can only wonder and wonder…
Not at all aware of his sister's racing, confused thoughts, Michael plays with his toys. Soon his eyes become heavy, and he falls asleep holding the Peter and Wendy figures in his hands.
The boy's brown bangs are slowly brushed off his forehead. Slightly bigger hands carefully free the toys from his grasp. For a long time the two carvings are studied. The hands lean them sideways a little so the figures' heads touch. The pair of hazel eyes narrows slightly, uncertainty and longing hidden in their depths.
THE END
Author's Note: Michael might be too young to have this type of conversation with his sister, but I like his innocence and I think it works. If you disagree, you can hit me on the head as much as you want.