Chapter 21. Faint scent in the air

James paced his London penthouse parlor like a caged cat, with just as much bad temperament. Snarling and growling at any servant who dared to near him, including Smee. Each passing day that the girl was absent from him had only made his mood more violent. It had been well over a year since the birth of the child and the trail was as cold as icy waters. Smee watched as the man began to mumble to himself. The manservant stood back as the master paused and spun to look out the window, "Smee," he shouted not aware the man was behind him.

"Yes Captain?"

"We're going back to Scotland!" James stormed as he moved toward his bedroom, "Get packed!"

"Scotland sir," Smee asked timidly, "Why Scotland…"

"Her journey began there," James barked, "I must have missed something when we were there."

"Missed something?"

James' eyes narrowed, turning slightly red in the center, "Has this become an echo chamber, go pack!" The captain turned back to the window. He folded his arms over his chest and glared out the window. "Scotland." He said firmly.

Jill watched as her children took their first steps, she couldn't believe it was already a year since they had been born. The time here in the desert had gone slowly, peacefully. She was rested and restored. She had few regrets in having chosen going underground. One was that her parents were not aware of her location and had not seen their grandchildren. She couldn't even risk sending a picture to them. Jill was certain that the Captain was watching her parents' as well as her cousins' homes. The three native women who were more like family now had made up for the lack of family connection. As had Grandmother Straw-Reed.

John Two Eagles came walking across the desert wasteland at sunset one evening carrying something in his hands. His face was solemn as he entered Jill's garden. "I've brought the harness," he told her flatly. "I don't know why you asked for such a contraption. It's not good for a horse or a mule."

Jill took the leather reigns from him, "It's not for a horse or a mule."

The Indian man shrugged, "I made it the way you asked."

"You do beautiful work John," she said inspecting the leather work.

"Little Red-hand," his voice went more still than usual. "You've a plan?"

"Yes John, I do," she nodded.

Crossing his arms he stared at her, "I hope it works."

"Me too…"

James surprised his diver when he ordered him to take him to Kensington Gardens. Smee looked at his master as if he'd lost what was left of his mind. James ignored the pair, tapping his chin, and becoming determined. When the car reached the park the driver asked if James intended to get out. James closed his eyes, Smee told the driver to keep still. James' eyes opened, "Kensington Station," he said determinedly. The driver looked at Smee, shrugged and drove to the station.

James dismissed his driver, only Smee was to accompany him on this journey. Smee located a porter and had the luggage removed from the boot of the car. James moved to the ticketing booths, he looked up and frowned. He studied the destinations of the trains, his hooded eyes seeking the one place that would be the first destination of his prey. Then he saw it, as if it had been waiting for him all along, Penzance in Cornwall. He moved to the ticket booth, "Two for Penzance."

Smee heard the request but didn't bother to question his master.

James settled himself into his compartment, opened a paper and pretended to read it. He was actually mentally cursing himself for having been a captain who had underestimated one Darling. He had thought because she was young and not English that she would be easy pickings. He'd underestimated the strength of her Darling bloodline, and her Darling wits. He vowed not to make that mistake again. A grim smirk planted itself on his lips, he would have his Darling girl back once more, and when he did…

Smee sighed looking out the window and viewing the scenery. He wished silently that he Captain would just let go, give up this chase and accept that he'd been outsmarted by the girl.

Jill stood alone in the tower above her house; the light house lamp room was her special place. She had all her emergency equipment here, secreted away so that anyone who did venture up here couldn't see. The bags of fairy dust were safe in the dark lamp. The harness was now hanging on the wall like a decoration, mimicking a sail harness. "Think like a pirate," she told herself as she made sure of the latches on the hatch and on the door that lead to the little ledge that surrounded the outside of the light.

The sun was going down, and she stood a silent sentinel watching. Her hands gripped the rail, the wind was picking up as it often did in the evening. Over on the reservation there was smoke rising and she wondered if someone were trying to send a last minute signal, or was one of Gray Dove's sisters cooking. Soon the sky was a dark velvety blanket with stars shining. She looked up and found the one she was looking for, "Second star to the right, and straight on `til morning," she repeated the instructions as all Darlings would.

Leaning over the rail she looked down at the grounds surrounding her lighthouse. She loved this place, and was grateful for its solace. It had healed her wounded soul, and revived her spirit. Now more than two years since the abduction she was stronger thanks to her native family and she was grateful to them for having adopted her and the children. She vowed to enjoy what time she had left here, for she knew that the day would come when she and the children would have to flee.

She stood straight, looked up once more and whispered, "Second star to the right…"

Four hours after they had boarded the train, James and his manservant stood on the platform at Penzance. James moved to the information booth, "Where would one go to find solace and a good night's rest?" he asked politely.

"Sea view or not," the man in the booth inquired.

"Sea view," James said tentatively.

"Widow's Warf Inn," the man stated.

James requested the address and turned to Smee, "Get us a cab," he ordered darkly. To himself he was seething, 'Widow's Warf Inn, oh Wendy, you wicked girl.'

The man ignored the beauty of the town, and kept silent as they were conveyed to the hostel. When they arrived James left the luggage to Smee as well as the paying of the driver. He entered the inn and the scent of Wendy hit him like a ton of bricks. More than two years and it was still fresh here. He wondered why that would be as he moved to the reservations desk somberly. He politely spoke to the man at the desk, "A room please," he said reservedly.

The man looked up and gently replied, "How long, sir."

"Just the night," he said feeling that he'd have to move on quickly to keep the trail alive this time.

"Very well," the man behind the desk looked at the keys, "Room 206, it overlooks the harbor, will that do sir?"

James sighed, "That will do nicely," he reached forward with his right hand, the prosthetic hand and noted the man's expression change.

"War injury sir," he inquired politely.

James looked at the mechanical hand grimly, "Indeed." James looked down at the book and on a whim, just because the man had inquired about the injury James wrote, 'Captain James Rodgers' into the registrar.

"Captain Rodgers," the man seemed to stare at the name with a measure of recognition.

"Is something amiss," James inquired.

"Oh no sir," the clerk handed the keys to him. "The lift man will take you up." He pointed to the quaint little lift.

James had a feeling that there was something about his identity that had piqued the man's interest. Still he couldn't just stand there and demand to know what it was, so he moved to the lift being followed by Smee and the luggage. The lift operator politely announced the floor and opened the door to allow them to enter the upper floor hall.

James stood before the door and began to tremble, "Wendy," he whispered taking in a deep breath of the scent that he missed. Dazed he moved into the room, placed his coat on the bed and looked about, "She was here Smee, in this room."

Smee lowered the bags in his hands, "In this room?"

James nodded, moved to the window and looked out to sea, "Wendy…" he whispered entranced and entices by the scent of her. "You little minx," he chuckled, "You're thinking like a pirate." He chuckled out loud. "Well at last I understand your game," he nodded, "Too bad for you that I am a pirate." He turned to Smee, "This was where she made the choice to go on a long tour of the continent."

"She's a right smart little creature."

"I underestimated her," James confessed, "That's one mistake I will not repeat." He mused, "Shall we have some dinner?"

"Would you like me to order in, sir?"

"No," James said amicably, "There's a rather nice enclosed upper deck I noticed when we arrived. I'm sure it's got a wonderful view of the sea… I find the sea so calming."

"I'll call for your reservation," Smee said respectfully.

"Make it a reservation for two," James suggested, "I should like your company this evening."

Smee was momentarily taken aback, "My company sir?"

"Yes Smee, you may have noticed some things about Wendy that I missed," James explained taking a seat beside the window. "I should like to ask you some questions about her during our meal."

"Yes sir," the man nodded.

The restaurant was peaceful and pleasantly appointed. The enclosed deck gave a marvelous view of the harbor. James looked at the menu and wondered what it was his Darling girl had ordered. He was certain that she was following some diet that had been ordered for her at St. George's. Not being restricted to a diet he ordered a meal fit for a pirate king. He conversed quietly with his manservant during the meal. It was a lovely clear evening, and the view of the harbor lights delighted the Captain. "It's been too long I've been away from the sea," he mused lightly.

"Aye Captain," Smee agreed, "Can't get the taste of the salt spray out once you've had it."

James moved to the window to look out at the harbor, his mechanical hand toyed with the ring he wore on his left hand as he stared out the window. "Think like a pirate," he mused. "What would your next move be, me darlin'?" he asked quietly.

"That's an unusual ring," the waitress said as she came to see if he wished an after dinner drink, "I've only seen one other like it."

"You have," he asked, "When?"

"Oh must be two years ago," the woman thought back, "A young widow… she stood here gazing out to see…lost her husband in the war…"

"What did she look like," James asked pensively.

"A lovely little thing," the waitress said pleasantly, "Big beautiful blue eyes, dark black short curls, and a figure that was… well outstanding." The woman sighed, "She stared with such sadness at the sea."

"Do you recall her name?"

"I'm afraid not sir," the woman said, "But I'd remember that ring anywhere, it seemed so... unique." She looked at his ring once more, "I remember thinking I'd never seen anything so beautiful before, the work is so different."

"Indeed," he agreed. "Thank you, my dear… I think I will have an after dinner brandy, thank you again." He looked down at his ring, and was still staring at it when Smee came to his side.

"Is something wrong Captain?"

"So you recall when the lost boys pillaged my treasure," James asked. When Smee nodded James continued, "In that treasure was the mate to this ring," he lifted his left hand. "It would seem that Miss Darling is now wearing that ring and passing herself off as a war widow."

"But wouldn't she be recognized?"

"She's changed her appearance," James whispered. "Gone is the honeyed hair, and its length… she's sporting dark short curls." He chuckled. "Did you bring that computer you're so fond of?"

"I never go anywhere without it," Smee confessed.

"That picture of the girl that was run in all the papers when she was missing, would you have a copy of it?"

"Yes."

"I've a little job for you." James mused and thanked the waitress when she brought his brandy. Turning to the window he toasted the sea, "Blessed be the sea."

Jill sat quietly sewing; the children were playing quietly with gourds that the Sisters had dried. They tossed them back and forth laughing at the sounds the dried seeds within would make. She looked over at them every now and again, and would return to the sewing. Some time while she was working she found herself humming mindlessly. Having finished some of the items she paused and thought consciously of the tune she had stuck in her head. She stood up suddenly, feeling betrayed by her own mind that had tricked her yet again. She prayed that the song in her head didn't travel beyond her desert, and vowed never again to hum the tune of the Drunken Sailor.

James was restless as he tried to sleep; he kept hearing the oddest tune; odd because it was not his voice singing or humming but that of a woman. He sat up startled, "Wendy," he said aloud hearing the tune clearly. "Wendy!" he called out before it was gone. He couldn't locate the origin, but he knew the girl had been thinking of him.

He rose from his bed and looked out at the harbor, "Lead me a merry chase will you," he snarled. "You think what I've done to you is dreadful, well just you wait my girl… you've experienced nothing as yet!"

Jill paced the garden, wondering how much time she'd have before James located her. The children were toddlers now, and could walk freely about her garden. Mostly the three sisters who still lived with Jill ran after the trio, leaving Jill to run her business and teach her art classes. It had been a good life here, but she feared that life was coming to an end. She could feel James, knew he was thinking on her and with every fiber of her being she blocked his thoughts. Giving conscious thought to him would give him power, and the last thing Jill Rodgers wanted was to give James Hook more power over her.

The children had been listed as native births, and that had bought her time. She lived quietly, paying cash for everything. She wanted as little of a paper trail as could be had. But her freedom had come at a great cost. She had no family outside of the tribe that had adopted her. She had no idea if her father was still alive. She tried not to take notice of any announcements that were made about the Darling family. Even when the annual anniversary came up she turned a blind eye to it.

Pacing the garden she toyed with the wedding band on her hand, "Why couldn't you just leave us alone," she whispered. "Why did you have to have revenge?"

James rose before dawn, sat in the chair at the window and contemplated his next move. When Smee rose he found the master tapping his chin, "Would you like coffee, sir?"

"No," James answered quietly, "Smee, do you think you can morph a picture of Wendy Darling if I give you some changes?"

"I can try," the old man answered smugly. "I may not be a virtuoso," he mused, "But I'm handy and I do understand the morph program pretty well." He brushed his hair back off his face, "What did you have in mind?" His hands reached for his laptop set it on the desk and took a seat.

"Bring up that picture," James instructed thinking of what the waitress had said, "The colorized one," he added. He stood up to look over Smee's shoulder, wanting to watch as the truth unfolded to him. "Change her hair to short and curly, and dark, nearly as dark as mine."

Smee went into the morph program, his fingers flying over the keys with ease. "Like that?"

James stared at the pretty face that had a wicked aspect, "Well I'll be damned," he muttered. "That's the way Old Wendy had described Red Handed Jill," suddenly his head snapped to look at the window and the sea, "OH she wouldn't have."

"Wouldn't have what sir?"

James began to pace, thinking and then he growled, "Yes she would… because I would never have expected it."

"Expected what?"

Ignoring his manservant he continued to pace and think it out, "It makes perfect sense…" He turned to look at Smee, "I'll be a codfish!"

Smee was printing out the picture, a frown on his face, "Captain are you alright?"

James snapped his fingers, and reached for the picture as it came out of the little printer that Smee carried along with his computer. "Right before my nose, eh Darling girl?" he muttered darkly, "Well we'll just see who has the last laugh, my little minx." The smug laugh that emerged darkly from his throat was not a pleasant sound. It was threatening, and sinisterly menacing. His heart was beating faster with anticipation of becoming reacquainted with the young woman who had escaped his clutches, "It's time for you to learn more lessons," he crooned.

Jill shivered uncontrollably; she was relieved that she was in the garden alone. The last thing she wanted was for the little ones to be frightened. For her plan to work they had to think it was all a game. She twisted the ring on her finger and cursed her stupidity. She should have had one of the boys buy her a ring; taking a piece of the treasure had seemed harmless. Now she thought better of it as she stared at the circle of metal on her hand. He was thinking of her, she was sure, and the thoughts were not of the pleasant sort. But then she doubted that James ever had pleasant thoughts about her. Her thoughts of him were never all that pleasant, well except for a few that had cropped up here and there. Most of her thoughts on James were of keeping one or two steps ahead of him, "Think like a pirate Jill; just keep thinking like a pirate." She urged herself.

-
James ordered Smee to pack and be ready to leave in an hour. He had suggested they skip having breakfast at the inn, and head straight to the station. Arriving with the early morning crowd James booked passage for two to Glasgow the next stop in the journey and where he had picked up her trail originally. He watched the countryside as it changed outside his window, winter was long over, and his child would soon be celebrating its second birthday. He wondered what his boy would look like. "Smee," he addressed his man servant, "Use that morphing program, combine my features and those of my child's mother…" he refused to say her name, least the Darling's had lookouts. "I want to know what our child looks like, make it age two…"

Smee nodded as he took his laptop from its case, "Easy enough to do," he assured his employer. His fingers moved over the keys, as they did, the two pictures on file were merged and then age regressed, "What sex," he asked as he entered the information into the program.

"A boy naturally," James said with utter confidence in his prowess.

The old man seated opposite him smiled gleefully, "A right nice laddie," he spun the computer to face James, "The spittin' image of his daddy."

"With just enough of his mother," James murmured, "Oh yes, that's my boy…"

Smee nodded and laughed, "Wonder what she named the little bloke."

"Matters not, once I've laid claim to him his name will be registered as James; perhaps I'll use her last name as his middle name and tempt the fates." James boasted. "I do believe he should have brothers and sisters, don't you Smee?"

"Captain you're wicked," Smee giggled.

James turned very sober, "I'll found a dynasty," he promised, "And all of them out of that girl."

Smee's smile faded, "You know who won't like that."

"Too bad," James growled.

Jill waved the children over to her, "Happy birthday my darlings…" she mused that she would never be able allow them to have the name but she could call them her darlings and be happy. "Mama has a game for you…"

Gray Dove frowned, "A game?"

"Yes," Jill said waving the native woman off, "A game just for the four of us."

"Little Red-hand," Yellow Swallow protested.

"Go about your work," she told the three, "Leave us." She kept her voice pleasant, not wishing to worry the three little ones. "Come on," she led them toward the light house, "The game is called to the stars…"

James stood on the platform, Scotland, he mused and the trail seemed warm as mulled wine. He mused that the girl had stood here herself. He tossed the news paper he'd been reading aside making note that it was the solstice. His child would be two today, he paused at a stand and bought a toy from a vender. Smee gave him an odd look and he said, "For the boy, it's his birthday." He saw a bracelet and asked the man for it as well, "For my wife," he said firmly when Smee frowned.

James tucked the toy under his arm and followed the scent; it was strongest by an information booth. He snapped his fingers and Smee handed him a copy of the morphed picture of how they believed Wendy appeared at the beginning of her journey, "I beg your pardon but have you ever seen this woman?"

The girl in the booth letting her fingers fly over the keyboard of her computer looked up. She smiled cordially, "Oh yes," she said in a pleasant tone, "I recall her… distinctive young woman she was… asked about the King's Inn…"

"Thank you," James said turning away, "I know the way." He motioned Smee to follow toward the taxi stands with the baggage. He signaled a driver who opened the boot and helped pile the bags in. "King's Inn my good man," James said firmly.

Jill laughed as the children followed her like little chicks in their harnesses. They were all attached and moving in a circle about the lamp. The only thing she'd planed today was to get them use to playing the game. To being strapped into the harnesses and following her lead. "To the stars," she spread out her arms and laughed joyously. The three little ones spread their arms and mimicked their mother.

James entered the inn as if he owned it, he approached the receptionist and wasn't surprised by the reaction he received, "Good afternoon," he addressed the flustered girl, "I was hoping you could tell me if you've ever seen this woman," he handed the morphed photo to the girl.

"Yes," she nodded, "That's Mrs. Rodgers… Mrs. Jill Rodgers." She looked up, worried, "Is she in trouble? She seemed like such a nice lady."

Thinking quickly he assured the girl the woman was not in trouble, "How long did Mrs. Rodgers stay with you," he asked carefully.

"Only a week," the girl looked up the record on the computer, "She was on her way for an oriental tour." She nodded as the information came up, "I believe she used the Pat-a-Pan agency," she wrote down the information. "Is there anything else sir?"

"Yes, my servant and I would like to book rooms for the rest of this week." James pocketed the picture and the information. "Are the rooms she used available?" Blushing, the girl nodded and booked him into the same rooms used by Mrs. Rodgers. Once in the rooms James sat on the bed, "Mrs. Jill Rodgers, cleaver girl, but not cleaver enough…Smee," he bellowed, "Get the owners of that travel agency on the phone!" He looked at the morphed photo once more. "I want to know every move that blasted Darling girl made… I'll track her down… and when I do…" His voice trembled, and Smee feared for everyone's safety.