I sat in front of my mirror, fixing my hair since Edward and his parents would be arriving soon. My hair was delicately arranged: Big, corkscrew curls draped across my shoulders, just like when I was younger—although they were much longer now. On either side of my face was a small, loose curl. The rest of my hair was pulled back into a bun at the back of my head.
Suddenly a figure appeared in the mirror and I turned around to see my mother standing in the doorway of my bedroom.
"Oh, Wendy, you look so beautiful! You've grown up so much that I hardly recognize you anymore," she said as she walked over to me. I could see her eyes glistening with tears she was trying to hold back.
"Oh, mother. I'll always be your little girl," I said as she pulled me into a hug. Suddenly the doorbell chimed and mother pulled away.
"That must be the Jones' here already," she said, rushing out of my room. I took one last look into the mirror, longing to see the little, twelve-year old girl I once knew. The one who saw the world through big, innocent eyes. I longed to go back to the time when everything was simpler, when I didn't have to worry about marriage, and my biggest fear was of growing up.
I took a deep breath before walking out of my room and descending the stairs. Michael and John were already at the base of the stairs, dressed in their finest waistcoats and trousers. I spotted Edward standing next to his parents, lingering just inside the doorway. Edward had on a button-down white shirt and cream-colored waistcoat, with a black coat and trousers to match. He wore a velvet black top hat, but quickly took it off when he saw me descending the stairs; a sign of respect. His father, who stood beside him, wore a similar suit, and his mother was in the latest fashion with one of those binding skirts wrapped around her legs.
Soon we were all called into the back room and sat down for dinner. When it was over Edward and I, along with our parents and John, retired to the drawing room at the front of the house. My father and Edward's sat in front of the fireplace, smoking on their pipes while John sat silently beside Father, listening with interest to their conversation. Our mother's sat on a couch, discussing the latest fashion trends and the new pillow my mother was embroidering. Since Michael was too young to join us in the drawing room, he was sent up to his room for the rest of the night. Edward and I were left alone on the couch that sat against the wall—as far away from everyone else as the room allowed.
"You look lovely this evening, Wendy," he said softly. I smiled politely and looked down at the light purple gown I was wearing.
"Thank you. I bought it at a store in London just a couple weeks ago. My mother and I were in town for some fabric for Michael's trousers, which had a tear in them from him roughhousing with a couple of boys at school. We passed a store and I saw this dress, and my mom and I thought it would be perfect for tonight, and I loved it since it reminded me of a dress she wore nine years ago. It was the same color and everything, although the styles have changed a bit in those years, so of course there are a few differences. For instance, her dress had—" I blabbered on, but Edward chuckled before raising a finger to my lips.
"Sometimes you talk a little too much, Wendy," he said, but a worried expression crossed his face, like he worried that his comment would offend me. Well, he need not worry about that, Peter said almost the same exact thing all those years ago…although it was said in a much more blunt manner. But that's what I always loved about him—he was so open with what he thought, even if it was a little insensitive at times.
"Peter said the same thing," I mumbled to myself, forgetting for a minute that Edward was sitting next to me on the couch. I suddenly looked up, remembering his presence there, to see a slightly perturbed look on his face.
"Wendy…" he began, but I cut him off.
"Edward, I know you don't believe in Peter Pan, but he is real! I went to Neverland with him and I—" I started to defend myself, but Edward furrowed his eyebrows and a frown passed over his lips.
"Wendy, I have never spoken a word against your very vivid imagination, but enough is enough! These…these delusions must stop!" he snapped. My eyes began to well up with tears; he had never spoken to me like this before. How could I live with someone who was so against everything I fervently believed in?
"But…but they're not delusions…" I said softly. When Edward saw the expression on my face he let out a sigh.
"I'm sorry, Wendy. I didn't mean for that to come out so harshly. But you must stop insisting these wild stories are true. They make good stories, but they cannot possibly be true," he said gently, wiping a stray tear away that had fallen from my troubled eyes. I simply nodded and looked away. For the rest of the evening we sat in silence, and for once I appreciated it. I did not feel like talking to that man…
When the time came for the Jones' to leave Edward stood up and gave my hand a kiss. He leaned forward right before he left and whispered in my ear, "I cannot wait for our marriage tomorrow."
I certainly can, I thought to myself. After they left I retired to my bedroom and changed into a long purple nightgown. I sat on my bed, taking my hair out of its bun and brushing through the knots with my fingers. After a while a shadow appeared at my feet and I looked up to see my mother standing in the doorway, looking intently at me.
"Mother?" I asked, wondering why she was simply standing there. She didn't answer, but rather, stepped inside my room and closed the door behind her.
"Wendy, I know you are apprehensive about your marriage tomorrow, I can sense it." She walked over to my bed and sat down next to me. "I too went through the same thing when I was about your age." She put her hand over mine, and I looked up in surprise at her admission. Mother had never told me this before.
"You did?"
"Yes, my father also chose my husband for me when I was only seventeen and I was married scarcely a year later to George. At first I was a bit nervous about marrying him, but I realized he was a kind and sensible man, and he won my heart two weeks after we met. I know you have butterflies, and that is understandable, but everything will turn out all right," she said, moving a stray lock of hair away from my face.
"But you loved father. I don't think I love Edward," I protested softly.
"Sometimes love is a choice. Edward is good for you, he can provide you with a good life. You will have a big house and darling little children to fill it with. You will never have to know poverty like my poor sister had to go through." A sadness passed through my mother's eyes like a storm cloud, but quickly evaporated when she turned her blue eyes back to me.
"You had a sister?" She had never told me about this either. How much of my mother was I unaware of? How much was kept a secret in her own heart?
"Yes, but I do not like to speak of her since it only makes me remember what happened." I knew I shouldn't ask about something that caused my mother distress, so I kept my mouth closed, but my eyes must have betrayed me.
"I can see you want to know what happened," she said, looking deeply into my eyes before taking a deep breath. "She was my younger sister, so as the oldest I was, of course, married first. When my sister turned seventeen her turn came for my father to choose a husband for her, and that he did. He was a young man with a fortune, much like your father had been. He was a jolly fellow with a sense of humor that made everyone around him laugh, but a month before they were to be married she fell in love with a man she met on the streets. He was a coal miner with barely enough money to feed himself, but she ran away with him the night before she was supposed to marry the man father had chosen for her. At first she seemed happy with her choice, but then poverty hit them when he realized he didn't have enough to feed the both of them, and they had a little baby coming soon. About a year later there was an accident in the mines and the man died, leaving my sister alone with their baby. She tried to get work, but she wasn't paid enough for them to live on and she…"
Tears welled up in my mother's eyes. I quickly grabbed a handkerchief from my pocket and handed it to her. She held it up to her nose and dabbed at her eyes before continuing. "She died of starvation and the baby went to an orphanage," she finished, then took a deep breath. "Sometimes we must do what we should do, instead of what we want to do."
I nodded in understanding before she leaned forward and kissed my forehead. She stood up and went to walk out, but stopped at the door and turned around to face me. "Remember to say your prayers tonight, Wendy, before you go to bed."
I nodded in understanding. Ever since I moved out of the nursery and into my own room, my nightly prayers between me and God were sort of a routine. I got out of bed and walked over to the double windows with the seat on the window frame. It was exactly like the window in the nursery, and for that I was grateful. Back when I was a child, sitting on the soft cushion by the windows had been a favorite pastime of mine. Sometimes I would sit and read a book, and other times I would stay up late to look at the stars in the distance.
I slowly walked over to the double windows and threw them wide open before kneeling down before the seat and folding my hands. I closed my eyes and turned my face heavenward—something that always made God seem closer.
"God…" I began, searching for the right words, "I'm scared. I don't want to grow up, I want to have adventures and go on daring quests like I did when I went to Neverland all those years ago. So, if it isn't too much to ask, could I go on one last adventure before I have to get married tomorrow? Even if it's only in the form of a very vivid dream, please let me go on one more adventure before my life as I know it, is taken away from me," I pleaded before bowing my head and being silent for a moment. "Amen."
With a sigh I opened my eyes and stood up, looking out at the stars. One in particular made me smile. The second star to the right. And straight on till morning, my mind finished for me. I picked up the end of my nightgown and sat down on the cushion, leaning forward on my hands and looking out at the stars. If this was to be my last day in this house I wanted to spend it right here, on this cushion near the window, with the windows wide open to let in the cool night breeze and give me the best view of the stars. I would spend my last night here, remembering my adventures with Peter Pan and hoping, perhaps foolishly, for one last adventure before the morning sun peeked over the chimney tops of these London houses. I laid down and yawned as I brought my arm up and used it as a pillow. I drew my legs up to my chest and started to drift into unconsciousness.
A sudden banging noise jolted me awake and my head sprang up from its resting place. I looked out the window frantically to see if the windows had banged shut while I was asleep, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. A breeze must have swept past and knocked them against the brick walls outside the house. I let out a sigh and turned around, only to have my breath hitch in my throat and a cold sensation race through my veins, freezing me in place.
A hooded figure dressed in black stood in my bedroom, right beside my bed. The hood threw shadows over the face, obscuring it from my view. I could feel a scream building in the back of my throat; my senses started to work again. Suddenly the figure reached up and threw their hood back, revealing a face that had haunted my dreams for nine years now.
"Captain Hook?" I breathed, my eyes widening. Even though I was scared out of my mind, I realized my memory was certainly reliable. He looked the same as the last time I saw him, and yet something was different about him…something I couldn't quite place my finger on…
He had on the same outfit as always under this new black cloak he now wore. Small, black curls framed his face as they draped across his shoulders and went well past them. Cold eyes as blue as the sky in springtime stared back into my dark blue ones, and his lips curved into a wicked smile.
"Wendy Darling," he said with a slight chuckle, "it's been too long."
Three pirates suddenly stepped out from the shadows in my room, revealing swords and other weapons. Hook brought a finger up to his chin and stroked it in thought as his eyes scanned over me.
"You look different," he said, his eyes taking a minute to look me over before clearing his throat, "But nevertheless…" He snapped his fingers to the three pirates behind him and pointed at me. "Bag her."