My Darling Love
Chapter 43 – Very Bad Things
"He who does not punish evil commands it to be done."
-Leonardo da Vinci
Captain Hook danced about the deck of the Jolly Roger with an imaginary partner guiding their steps in the light of full moon. He continually spun around, feet moving with the music that only played in his mind. "I thought we were waltzing," he questioned as he dipped his imagination and began ravishing a neck not there. He pulled his playful companion quickly to her feet, and answered himself, "I see, dearest, tonight we tango," and moved on across the deck.
Mr. Smee interrupted from behind, clearing his throat to attract his attention, "Um, Captain, wonderful clear night, not a cloud in the sky, and there's even a full moon." Captain Hook nodded his head, never letting his eyes leave his lovely lady who was not there. He glanced to Mr. Smee and waved his hook, dismissing his weather report.
Mr. Smee stepped forward to remind him as he did on every full moon, when Captain Hook came about pushed past him into the cabin without another word. Mr. Smee walked to the side of the ship, and looked out into the night. In another moment, Captain Hook stood alongside of him and ordered, "Well Smee? Are you going or not?" Captain Hook whipped around and headed back to his cabin, leaving Mr. Smee wondering aloud to a strange fog descending over the ship, "Yes Captain, I'm going."
"George broke a few ribs with his fall. The doctor wrapped him up well; there really is nothing else they can do with injuries like those. They will have to heal themselves, but George should take it easy. Mary, you have to make him take it easy. He needs to avoid movement for a few weeks and do nothing, at least until the pain subsides," Harry informed his sister-in-law after helping his youngest brother into the house. George wouldn't listen to Mary, but he did listen to Jane, who touched his conscience with, "Daddy, please do what Mother asks, it's only a little while, not forever and I'll stay with you and keep you company the entire time!"
Jane kept her promise as George lay in bed for long days. From the moment she woke up she danced herself down the hall into his room and took up residence on her mother's side of the bed. George and his daughter ate all their meals in that bed, they colored in bed, and Jane made George read her story after story from the books in the nursery. "You are a very good reader, Daddy, where did you learn?" That question led to George recounting stories of his childhood and young adulthood, all the way up to when he met Mary. As George reached that part, Jane summoned her mother to the bedroom and made her give an account of her life story as well. There were many times when Mary spoke that George interrupted, "Really, Mary, I never knew that you..." And for that reason alone, Jane made George retell his side of the tale.
Jane was not without the knowledge of other Darling children, she knew Michael died when she was a baby and that he was a brave soldier who gave his life for others. She knew of John, for she had seen him once when she was with her father at the market. He seemed younger than the senior Darling, but he appeared years older. "He doesn't get along with Mommy," George whispered to Jane when she invited him over for supper, and he declined with a huff.
"Why, doesn't mother like him?" Jane asked, devastated to think her mother incapable of loving anyone.
"Oh no, Jane, Mommy loves him very much. They just had an argument a few years ago, and John is still angry about it."
Jane wasted no time marching home with George in tow to demand, "Mommy, you should write John and his family a note this very moment and ask him over for supper." Mary obliged and even reread the invitation to Jane to gain her approval. All for naught, for John again declined.
Jane also knew of Wendy, but not much. "She travels the world in search of adventure," her parents told her as they tucked her into bed.
Mary and George, oddly enough, never had to explain to a soul where Jane came from. No one asked, so they never offered. The bank where George had been employed before retiring sent a fruit basket and congratulations when word reached them that Mrs. Darling delivered a daughter, "That's what you get for retiring so young!" the new president hand wrote on the card that came with the gift. The neighbors made the same comments, "Dearest Mary, you did not even show in the waist as you carried, and this baby is so big. Goodness, I hope you did not have to labor long."
Jane was baptized in the church the day after she arrived on George and Mary's doorstep. Harry was named as her godfather, his own lady friend -- wearing his ring of engagement for years now -- her godmother. Neither he nor she asked any questions, accepting George's explanation of, "Mary wanted to adopt another baby, so we did." Jane's resemblance to the Darling children, and more importantly, Mary and George themselves, with the exception of her unusually dark curled hair kept even the clerk from questioning their names when they registered her birth record in the London registrar's office.
Grandpa Joe reached the last leg of his journey in the early winter months. He was completely immobile and oblivious to the world around him. Most times he could either be found sitting by the window, aimlessly looking out into the yard as if waiting for someone to come running down the block, or on his bed with Jane's crayons which she donated to keep him busy, lining them up and appraising each one for unknown reasons. He would not speak when spoken to, or even at all. Harry suggested they commit him to a mental ward, but the Darlings refused. "No, I would never have him alone without his family when he passes. He should see faces that he once recognized, not strangers."
There were only two times since his mind went that he made conscious statements that made sense. The first was to Mary in the nursery on the night of a full moon. The second was on his deathbed when, after catching a nasty cold when the weather outside showered frigid rains. George sat with him that night while Mary and Jane readied for bed. George and Mary already had their warning that the end neared, for the house felt like death. The heaters ran full blast to keep the cold banished to the outside, but still there was an unshakable chill in the air. Grandpa Joe had his eyes closed and grabbed George's hand, surprising him with a strong grip. When he opened his eyes, he began.
"Son," he said, "always remember that you are a king and this is your castle. Mary Elizabeth is your queen... Don't burden your family with your old age; let them free of you to enjoy their own lives, even if that means they are to go on without you. Be there for them when they need you, and when their needs pass let them go, Mary Elizabeth included. Remember son; you have your father's blood in you, even if you don't feel it in yourself now. One day it will come out, it has to, for you to end it once and for all. Evil always rears its ugly head when you least expect it ... Expect it son, kill it before it kills the ones who love you...And George, always remember, Mary never fed you to the lion, See to it son, that she never faces that fate herself..." Grandpa Joe clutched George's hand and then released it slowly as he closed his eyes.
He passed on in the middle of the night while his only daughter slept. Mary awoke to a house full of old friends who came by to offer support and lots of love. Wendy would not be coming home for her grandfather's funeral and neither would John. Harry sat with George in the parlor making small talk, while Mary and Jane worked in the kitchen doing their best to keep their minds from grief. The funeral was rather large; Grandpa Joe was a well-liked man in the community and people came from all over. Folks he had not seen in many years, but remembered him as the local baker gave hopes of better days and well wishes to his best friend, his bereaved daughter, her husband and their young daughter.
They rested him as per his request far away from his sister and wife. I do not care where I am buried, I only ask I not be placed near them. I was too close to my sister in life, and not close enough to my wife. My dearest Elizabeth, my one and only love in all of my days, is already resting in peace. She deserves to stay that way undisturbed, he wrote in his will, so George obliged.
Mr. and Mrs. George Darling had never planned on having to bury one of their own children, so when Michael was entombed he was placed in the plot George had purchased for himself. Grandpa Joe, or Joseph Henry Baker as he was known in life, was laid one tomb away from him leaving Mary's plot open. "Why did you not place him in my tomb?" Mary asked as they walked from the cemetery.
George, holding to his wife and Jane, replied, "Harry wanted to be buried next to him when he passes, I'll put him there in the open plot. We will have to speak to the priest about new graves for you and I."
Jane had been more interested in everyone else's somber disposition, but hearing it in her father's tone made her speak up. She never cried or made a fuss as most children do, but now she wept inconsolably. "Oh no, Father, you and Mother must never die, you must live forever!"
Jane cried all the way home, even though her father carried her, her tears fell in the nursery as she waited that afternoon while the refreshments for guests and mourners went on downstairs. She cried at the supper table and refused her dessert. She cried while Mary bathed her and as George read her countless bedtime stories. They did their best to comfort her, but the one thing she wanted most of all from them they could not give her, "Please tell me you will live forever."
They could not lie to her and offered, "We will still be alive for a long time," but a "long time" was not good enough when eternity was required. And so, Jane Darling cried herself to sleep.
It was not a full moon, but the faithful first mate came to retrieve her and take her to Neverland nonetheless. She cried the whole way there too, and was greeted by the pirate captain onboard his ship with a baffled face.
"What is wrong with this one?" he queried to Smee who shrugged his shoulders.
"You shouldn't be upset that your grandfather died, dearest, for now he is in heaven with Grandma Baker and is watching down on you," Captain Hook told her, kneeling down to the little girl who stood with tears raining down her face glaring up at him. He moved to touch her and then thought better of it, "You want your mommy and daddy, not me." Jane shook her head through her tears and stomped around on deck screaming, "I WANT MY MOMMY!"
A nameless pirate working on the crew feeling sorry for the little girl and attempted to embrace her, getting a slap right across the cheek. "YOU ARE NOT MY MOMMY! I WANT TO GO HOME! I HATE IT HERE!" The pirate returned the favor by slapping Jane back, well attempted to anyway; Captain Hook caught his hand as he raised it. "I'll gut you from neck to navel if you even think about it!"
The pirate fought for release, calling Jane awfully cruel names, and Captain Hook ripped him completely in two, letting his bloody remains fall hard on the wooden planks.
Jane now screamed with all her might at the sudden carnage, with her beautiful blue eyes bulging out of her head in utter terror. The sky above opened with thunderous claps of lightning striking the ocean and rocking the ship. A torrential downpour flooded the sky and the deck, and still Jane stood and shrieked with all her might. She held her mouth wide open with a never ending screech and looked straight up, the only one standing on board the ship not getting soaked. The thunder only increased in volume, as did the bolts of lightning striking the deck, causing all the pirates -- including the Captain's first mate -- to go running for cover. There was nothing more to say, especially since the pirate captain with a hook for a right hand also holding his eyes to the sky had had enough. He turned his attention back to Jane and with a raised brow and a flick of his finger sent the little girl plummeting backwards landing flat on her bum in the nursery.
Stunned awake, still screaming for her life and her mother, George ran up the stairs and found Jane on the floor and the window to the nursery slammed shut as he entered. Hearing her call for Mary, and remembering his own children's shun of him when he came to comfort he rushed, "I'll go get Mommy," only to have Jane call for him instead, "No Daddy I want you too, please don't leave me. I want my Daddy. I WANT MY DADDY!" He didn't leave and held her tightly, easing her back under the blankets, comfy in her bed. "Please stay with me until I fall asleep, and please don't leave me, Daddy. Don't let Captain Hook come and take me again, he's a very mean man and he doesn't like me anymore, he killed one of his men!"
Jane sobbed as George embraced her even tighter now that she trembled with fear. "It was alright my darling, Jane, it was just a nightmare." George stayed and sat alongside of her as she attempted slumber. Every so often, at least for an hour, she would peek through her eyelids and whisper, "Good, I'm glad you are still here, Daddy. Make sure the window is locked before you go to bed, but don't leave yet, I'm not asleep." Not only did George lock the window that night, he barricaded it with a dresser. He didn't leave either; he slept alongside of her in what was once John's bed.
After everyone left, Mary sat at George's desk and read through the condolence cards, letters and telegrams. Grandpa Joe had generous friends who donated money and any assistance they could offer in return for the Darling's service to the old man who had gone senile and lost himself. The last telegram she opened was from London, and was the last to arrive only moments before she sat down.
Dear Mary and George,
Sorry to hear the old bag finally kicked off. You are probably wondering how I was aware of his most unfortunate demise. I'm watching, I'm always watching.
Best wishes and many congratulations to your new children.
Love Always,
PeterAs she took in the last of his words, George descended the stairs and headed off into the kitchen to get Jane some warmed milk with her following in tow, carrying Michael's old teddy bear, Taddy. Mary crumpled the letter in her right hand and took aim at the fireplace wanting to watch it burn into ashes. Then she thought better of it. She rose from her place at George's desk and went into the kitchen where her husband and brother-in-law were chatting, Harry over his tea and George holding Jane, now sleeping on his shoulder, heating milk at the stove.
"Harold, when was the last time you had contact with Peter?" Uncle Harry spit his mouth full of tea across the table at George and glared up to Mary. "Years, Mary." He responded in a rather unhappy manner, "Why do you ask?"
"He knew of my father's death, and congratulated us on our new children." She casually handed George the telegram and he read over the contents looking up perplexed.
"New children? We only have one."
Mary glanced back down and then to Harry who shrugged his shoulders. "I swear that the last time I spoke with him was right after George moved ... The time before that was when he sent our mother to live in Chicago or something with one of our distant relations and when she passed on, he wanted me to go and get her."
The Darlings watched him speak and then looked to each other. "Harry, where is mother buried?"
Harry again shrugged his shoulders, "I have no idea, I couldn't go because that was when I was...well you and Mary understand. That was the last of heard of her."
"Potter's field ... in Chicago," Mary said softly holding George from behind and kissing the top of Jane's head.
"Had I known my brother was to dump her off somewhere like that, I would have ... made other arrangements," George managed as he poured the pot of milk into a glass on the table, then headed upstairs, taking Jane back to bed.
"Where did Peter send that from?" Harry asked as Mary took her place at the table and drank from her teacup.
"London." Mary bolted her head back up and stared off into nothingness. "Oh God, John..."
As Mary had predicted to George in bed the night after the telegram came, Peter came to London to retrieve Margaret. He took Margaret and Martine and her sons with John back to wherever it was he was hiding, leaving poor John adrift at home without even his two children for company. "Waiting is all we can do," and luckily for George, who was worried sick and could not sleep one wink that night, the dawn arrived at the Darling house and so did John.
John rang the bell several times and banged the door almost off its hinges yelling for his parents inside to "OPEN UP! I'VE COME HOME!"
"I lost it all, every cent," John began at the breakfast table, "What I didn't lose in the market, Margaret took with her when she left me. I'm flat broke and we have no place to live, as all my debts have been called in and the bank foreclosed on our houses."
George and Mary sat across from their son and repeated, "Houses?"
"Yes, we had several houses, well, mansions rather, but they are all gone." John cried just like Jane did, with one exception -- Jane's tears were real and John's were not. "I brought all the books for you to look over, father." John sobbed through his fake tears.
George spent all afternoon looking over John's messy ledgers, loaded with errors, miscalculations or overdrafts. Every so often he would raise his head and shake it, adjusting his spectacles before heading back to work. As Mary called him to supper, he had only scratched the surface of his eldest son's inaccuracies. "It will take me a week to balance everything out. My God, son, what were you thinking?" George's voice strained as he took a seat at his table.
John didn't answer him, only glanced off across the table to where Jane sat with a bewildered expression. "Who's that?" he asked his mother as she passed him a plate of her finest.
"That is Jane, John. You know, Jane, our daughter."
Suddenly it came to him, "Oh yeah, I've got two boys of my own as well mother. They're named Joe and Freddy. Margaret snatched them as well when she left, thank God! Could you imagine how utterly inconvenient it would be for me if I had to raise them by myself? " He looked about without concern and then began eating his dinner without waiting for a reply.
Mary sat next to her husband without serving herself and held onto George's hand for dear life. John chomping away at his chicken with total disregard for his own children and without the slightest recollection of ever having met Jane made Mary very uncomfortable. She leaned over to George's ear and whispered, "Right now, right here, promise me on your life you will not let him see our account books or savings ledgers and you will not give him one penny."
George was confused at her request, but seeing the part of her eyes that led directly to her soul and heaven, he nodded with his head. "On our daughters, George," she said, and he repeated, "Alright Mary, if you insist, I swear it on our daughters."
John finished eating first, but not before taking seconds and thirds of Mary's cooking. "I miss your homemade meals, Mother. You know, I do employ several cooks at my homes, but nothing they can come up with comes close to your grub," he commented as he rubbed his belly and belched. Mary did not eat a thing, for when John was finished, there was nothing left to be eaten. She just sat and stared back and forth between John and George and made mental comparisons.
John had always held the closest resemblances to George but now a man in his twenties he had matured differently. She more she stared at him; the more he seemed like a monster.
Grossly unattractive and unfit, he had let himself go in more ways than one. George always kept what hair he had left neat and tidy, and wore a formal attire of dress shirt, pants, tie and sweater. John had a stubbly face with a scruffy moustache. He wore trousers with a stained shirt and no tie. John picked his teeth and blew his nose in his dinner napkin, stretching his arms out and releasing a large yawn followed by another burp, none of which he asked to be excused from.
George rose from the table and said, "Jane, bedtime."
She bolted up the stairs with Mary following her. "Will the maid clear the dishes?" John asked, as he leaned back in the chair and gave a relaxed stretch complete with yet another yawn.
"No, John, your mother will."
John scoffed at his father and casually strolled into the parlor. George followed, and soon they were engaged in a very intimate conversation, huddled together near George's desk. Mary returned after Jane was tucked away safe in bed when she came across the both of them, snickering and jeering to one another in the most unbecoming manner.
"What do you think you are doing?" Mary demanded as she stepped into the parlor.
Apparently unconcerned, believing Mary simple minded, John responded with George watching, "I was just curious about how father's finances were. You don't even have a maid, Mother." Two insults cast by the prodigal son. Even a homeless man who resided on the corner knew George Darling kept balanced books. Not to mention he used the tried and true method of pitting one parent against the other, which never worked in their home, at least not where the children were concerned. Or so she thought. Therefore, Mary approached John and pushed him out the way, slamming George's desk top down. On her heel she turned around and glared at her only son with breath still in him and her husband of many years, "What is it that you both really want. You know, I have your God's ear, and if you could convince me of the cause, well I would be the best person to talk him into it."
John smirked, as now did George. John voiced his own desires first, "Money mother, I want money." Now that was obvious to Mary, but she needed to know the real reason. Win back Margaret? Return to the lifestyle he had grown accustomed to? Get rich quick scheme? What? Or was there some other ulterior motive that brought John back home once again. Mary could tell a lie when it looked her in the face and her son's answer sent a red flare up into the sky above where they stood in her parlor.
"For my children, of course, Mother." Oh yes, oh course, for his children, two sons whose whereabouts were unknown to him. "Oh yes, the children. How silly of me."
As Mary completed her sentiment, George stood and handed John book after book of his balanced ledgers, which told of all of George and Mary's assorted wealth. "We can take it with us when we leave," George offered, as John yanked the ledgers from his father's hand and examined the total. "This can't be all of it," he sneered, glancing at George and then to Mary. "We can't take all of it, John, what would your mother live on?"
"To hell with Mother!" John exclaimed patting his father on the back.
"George, what are you doing?" Mary shrieked, stalking up to her husband and holding him about the shoulders.
George shoved Mary down to the floor harshly. "Don't you want to know what I want Mary?" She gave no answer, so he replied for her, "I want you gone, Mary. Dead and buried and soon enough, but not too soon, you will be. Now my brother and my son are my life. You, on the other hand, I'm happy to part with it. You should have fed me to the lion when you had the chance your Highness. But it is just as well, to the lion Mary, to the lion..."
John lowered the ledger and looked up to George, "Oh, Father, how did you know?" George straightened his spectacles and fixed his sweater pushing out his chest proud to have been abreast of something brewing before it blew up in his face.
"Please, do you think I was not keeping in touch with my beloved brother, Peter?" George answered John as he turned to Mary. "Really Mary, how foolish of you."
"Peter is waiting at the front door with Margaret and my children father. Think of all the fun we will have together!"
George returned his glance to his eldest son, "Apparently Peter and John here are willing to share more than just Margaret with me." George paused giving his wife a frightening glare, "With my own children, my own flesh and blood and now my grandsons. How could you not know Mary? Did you not think Peter a good teacher? It's only a shame I will never have the pleasure of Jane. Well, then again, you never know..."
John shrugged his shoulders with the same concern he showed for his children. "Whatever already," he snapped, "I shall consider this my inheritance father, and you can help me spend it!"
George nodded, "And you don't even have to wait until I'm dead to receive it. And for once I will actually get to enjoy my money, let's go!" George yanked John by the arm and led him to the front door.
The entire time this went on, Mary sat on the parlor floor, a silent statue watching in absolute terror. All at once she took to the stairs and raced up to defend her daughter Jane. "I'll give Margaret and Peter your regards." George shouted out to her as he slammed the door behind him and John.
"He molested my children." Mary was out of breath and crying uncontrollably as she leaned up to the nursery's door.
"Where is Jane, Mary, did you save her?" Peter Pan asked looking down from above, where he hid, hovering against the ceiling.
"Take her to Neverland where she will be safe forever..." she replied, lost in her tears as she opened the window in the nursery.
"I just hope Captain Hook doesn't find us...He is worse than George..." Peter retorted, taking flight out of the house through the nursery window. "Don't trust him Mary, he has done very bad things..."