My Darling Love

Chapter 62 – Father James, The Pirate

"There is no disguise which can hide love for long where it exists…"

-La Rochefoucauld

Wendy had not realized how messy her studio was until she led James inside. Her mother was right, someone was bound to break a limb walking about inside. "There is a lot to move here," Wendy said, starting to pick up portraits leaning against the wall that she had already prepared to move. James also began to lift a few paintings hidden under a drop cloth, causing Wendy to jump across the room and over a dozen sculptures to stop him. "No!" she shouted, but too late, for he had already uncovered at least twenty sketches she had done of him.

Each portrait was different, some had him dressed in his priestly garb, others had him dressed as he was now, a casual gentleman in a proper slacks and shirt. With a little help from her mother, Wendy had finally cast him in perfect likeness to his true self, and now his face was everywhere in her work. In some he was smiling in others he held a more serious expression. She shook her head, biting her lip. "Sometimes I run out of ideas and I draw whatever comes to mind, you can keep them if you like…" she finished lamely.

Father James looked at them admiringly. "No, you keep them. I am honored you think of me enough to draw me. Maybe just one, though, this one." It was the only one Wendy wished not to be parted from, the first picture she drew of him in the regalia of Captain Hook. He held the portrait Wendy had improved on tenfold, adding paint and a frame to her original sketch, spending hours on every little miniscule detail to bring it to life. "I always wanted to be a pirate captain of great ship out of the seven seas when I was a boy." He exclaimed with a grin that ran ear to ear.

She touched her fingertips to the face frozen in time and looked up to him watching her. "Yes, you should have this. Something to remember me by." Wendy broke their gaze and went back to work.

"Remember you? Where are you going?"

"After my parents pass on, I think I am going to go live with my brother and his family in America, the spinster aunt for all those boys," Wendy replied, not her first choice to spend all the remaining years of her life, but the only one provided for her consideration at that moment.

"That's years away, Wendy, I'm sure both your parents will live for quite some time," James offered, gathering together the easiest items to stack and carry first for Wendy.

As he handed them to her she said softly, too low to be heard, "I hope so."

They spent the rest of the afternoon working hard, up and down the stairs, in and out to the greenhouse. Soon it was dusk, and Mary knocked on the nursery door, inviting them both to supper. "I would love to eat with your family," James told her, which made Wendy very happy to still enjoy his company.

Mary served dinner, giving George his plate first, James second, Wendy third and herself last. The dinner conversation was lively between James and Wendy, "I've been all around the world and back again several times," Wendy shared, while glancing to her mother Mary, who was listening but not offering her own comments. George didn't hear, trying hard to eat his steak without his teeth. After dinner came dessert, and after dessert came drinks in the parlor, which the priest, a guest in their home, graciously declined. "I have to get back, I have a lot to do tomorrow and I've already stayed later than I should have," James said after thanking Mr. and Mrs. Darling the honor of letting him eat at their dinner table.

"Any time, young man, you stop in for a visit," George grinned, raising his glass to James.

"Perhaps next time you will stay for a drink and to hear Wendy play the piano," Mary added as Wendy blushed, "Mother I have not played in years."

"Natural talents in music never fades, Wendy," James replied nudging her arm with his elbow. "Yes I would like that very much, Mrs. Darling, but I will only return if Wendy promises to tickle the keys while I am here." A mild hue of pink that normally filled Wendy's cheeks went bright red as she lowered her face.

"You should come the night after next, we are having a party," George shouted from his chair, as ever feisty, he pinched his wife's backside as she passed by to the sofa, making James fold in his lips to contain his laughter.

"I'm sorry I have to regretfully decline, I'm working the soup kitchen at the church on Christmas."

James left, and made it almost five blocks before he heard Wendy calling him. She raced up to him lugging with her the portrait she'd crafted of Father James, the pirate. "You forgot this," she managed out of breath handing it to him with a large smile.

"Thank you, Wendy," he replied, taking it from her and looking upon her handiwork once more. "Happy Christmas, Wendy."

Wendy nodded, still winded, "Happy Christmas, James," she bobbed up to him and stole a peck on the cheek, and then bolted back to her home as it had just begun to snow. Father James watched her until she was well out of sight, before turning again back to the church.

Wendy tried her hardest all the next day to reproduce the portrait of her beloved James, which she had given away. And, as her mother had predicted, her brother John arrived with wife and children in tow and wreaked havoc on their normal peaceful and quiet home. There was the banging of bags and the clomping up and down on the stairs. John's children, his own and his wife's were in their youth quite loud and obnoxious. The two smaller children they shared together were destructive, and anything not bolted down got broken. George sat in the middle of the mayhem and loved it, encouraging his family to "SPEAK UP!" when talking to him, only making the decibel level oppressive. Mary was no help, standing in the kitchen with John s wife, the cook and maids gossiping all morning and afternoon.

The supper table had seventeen people crammed at it, including the house staff that George insisted be treated like part of the family. Wendy couldn't hear herself think, let alone what was being said, and could not even move her elbows enough to lift a fork from plate to mouth. Dessert was no better, and the activities in the parlor only made matters worse. Seventeen people loaded into four cars to go to midnight mass, taking a pew up at the front. George, a proud man, was truly thankful to God for his family, and, in his old age, wanted more than anything to show them off.

Wendy sneaked away from the pack and took her usual seat nearest the confessional. Being midnight mass, the mass celebrating the birth of the Lord, there was a line to receive penance. Wendy waited patiently for her turn, and entered giving a sigh of relief for quiet.

The door slid open and another priest, not Father James, demanded, "Confess your sins!" Wendy jerked her head back, shocked by his demeanor and stated, "I confess that you are very rude and should be more kind on this holiday," rising from the kneeler and stalking to her normal seat.

She shook her head and looked up noticing James sitting a few pews in front of her. She gingerly moved to the pew behind him, trying not to seem suspicious in her actions. She knelt down and whispered into his shoulder, "Not hearing confessions tonight I presume."

He gave her his ear the moment he heard her voice and responded just as quietly, "It was I who needed my confession heard."

He quickly rose from the pew without looking at her, and headed to the front, a door nearest the altar Wendy always assumed was used by the priests to dress in. In his haste to flee from her, he collided with a nun who shook her finger at him. "Forgive me, God, but I love that man…" Wendy prayed the entire service. "Please let it be he, please, I beg of you. Have mercy on me a sinner and send my James home to me. I know how to love him now; I will be honest and not lie again ever. Please God, help me."

After midnight mass, the entire family went home and to bed, including the maids and cook, who slept under blankets in the parlor. Wendy hid out in the attic, sitting on the window ledge, thinking back to the day Captain Hook died. "He took the dagger for me. He turned me around and stood in my place, he knew that Peter was going to kill me, and he took the death for me instead." She heard her words ringing in her ear, and Father James' response that followed, "Loving someone gives you strength, and that person loving you just as much gives you courage. You mustn't blame yourself for his death, Wendy, he chose of free will to make that sacrifice. He will be rewarded in heaven."

In the morning, the house was abuzz with the same noise and mayhem as it had been on Christmas Eve, only this time it was the ripping open of presents and boxes filled with all the gifts Mary and George wanted their children, grandchildren, family and friends to receive from them.

Wendy watched in the doorway, wanting to escape out into the brisk morning, "I'm going to take a short walk," she whispered to her mother who nodded her approval, to get some air and freedom.

Wendy strolled down the street, past the church and noticed all those homeless and destitute gathering in the doorway to the mission, waiting for the yearly Christmas meals, breakfast, lunch and dinner given to those less fortunate. "How can I help?" Wendy asked a nun with a dirtied apron on from the pancake batter that continually splattered on her from the hot griddle.

"Can you cook?" Wendy nodded. "Then you can cook," she directed, handing over her duty to the Darling's spinster daughter.

The lunchtime crowd rolled in and Wendy was still elbow deep in heavy kitchen duty. Aside from herself, there were only three other elderly women volunteering that Christmas to help the nuns, who knew nothing of running a kitchen.

"Where is Father James?" one of the nuns growled, who had burned her hand on a hot pot.

"Still in conference with the monsignor and the bishop, he'll get here when he can," shouted another, covered in butter and syrup, glaring at Wendy who was still hard at work by the ovens.

"They are talking about that one over there," another nun sneered also shooting her glares toward poor Miss Darling.

"Less and less people offer to help every year, I understand it's hard, having a family and all to entertain, but we must not forget to help those first who cannot help themselves," a flustered old woman jabbered to Wendy as she washed dishes.

Later in the day, Father James came down and began reassigning jobs as more people came to donate their time. Unfortunately for Wendy, she was stuck serving food as Father James remarked, "You've done your time at the sink and at the ovens," without another word.

There she stood, shoveling food to the poor and destitute, wondering if her parents had ever waited in line to be served like this on the holiday. Every so often, she would glance to the clock that hung above on the wall and imagine what her family back at home was going, "Probably getting ready for supper …"

Wendy missed breakfast, lunch and dinner with her family, eating her Christmas feast alone at a table in the mission. The other parishioners helping out, all old biddies, sat together and gossiped about the "crazy spinster daughter of the unfortunate George and Mary Darling." The first to speak up, oddly enough, was a nun who took her rest with the older women, "She and Father James have a rather unspeakable relationship going on. The Monsignor and the Bishop have warned him already several times about limiting his contact with her. I've seen it with my own eyes you know, she spends all her free time chatting up a storm with him in the confessional from sunrise to sunset. To think, the nerve of that girl, in God's house right under His nose."

With that topic of conversation brewing, another went as so far as to resurrect ghosts of the past long forgotten by reminding everyone who would listen, "No wonder no one wanted to marry her, I heard she was very loose with her virtue, like her mother when she was a young girl. Tarts like that never change. So she thinks she will steal a priest from the cloth. God should strike her down where she sits." All present agreed and in unison smirked toward Wendy and waved.

She was aware they were talking about her, but had already accepted for herself the type of woman she turned out to be, the reputation she would carry to the grave. "I'm just glad her grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Darling the Fourth are dead. Another scandal, this time with a priest, it would ruin the family's good name more than it already has."

Wendy stayed later than everyone else, finishing up the last of the dishes, helping a few nuns wipe the counters and the floors of the kitchen, making sure everything was spotless before gathering her coat, ready to leave. Father James had avoided her all afternoon and evening, purposely moving away from her if he even suspected she was looking in his direction. Wherever she was, he wasn't, including during her Christmas dinner. Wendy was left sitting alone while the group of rumormongers saved him from 'that seductive she-devil' by insisting he sit with them. As he took his place in between the nun with a bad attitude and her friend the rumor resurrector, he heard, "Here, Father James, we saved you a seat," said in a joyous cheer of good will, "We are saving your reputation as well," in a whisper with a finger pointing directly at Wendy Darling.

The end of Christmas Day came, and Father James had not said one word to Wendy aside from his early request that she serve the food, and, "Thank you for all your hard work today, Wendy," complete with a wave as she left. Wendy waved back without looking or smiling, just to be polite.

Before she made her journey home, Wendy went to the cemetery and knelt at Jane's grave brushing her hand over the engraving on her headstone, repeating the words for herself as her fingertips swept over them, "I shall find peace, I shall hear angels, and I shall see you living in the sky filled with diamonds. Happy Christmas, Jane and James, my darling loves."

Wendy leaned in and kissed the cold marble marking the grave where her little girl slept beneath the ground in peace. She rested her head against it and then embraced the stone, holding it tightly to her.

"I thought I would find you here." Mary spoke up from behind her. "Your father and I were worried when you didn't come to supper."

Wendy straightened her dress and wiped her eyes, "I volunteered at the church mission serving supper to the poor." Mary gave Wendy her hand to help her up, but instead she only hugged her mother about the waist, still on her knees, a flesh and bone person that could hug back and truly did.

Mary, too, now shed tears as she clutched her daughter. "You know, Wendy," Mary moved her daughter's head up to face her, brushing hairs from Wendy's eyes, "in this moonlight, with you so short on your knees, you remind me of the child you once were, so full of life and magic. Has it really been that long? All the years your father and I are together, and it seems like only yesterday I climbed down from my bedroom window to run away with him. I can still see him that way in my mind, looking up to me."

Mary held both her hands to her face to stop the tears that suddenly fell down her cheeks. "The morning of your father's heart attack, we made love like we were newlyweds again. That was the last time we ever were together like that. I always think back that, had I known that was the last time I was ever to feel him like that …" Her mother dropped to her knees as well, holding Wendy hard. "Now I think, whenever I speak with him, or say good-morning or good night, I wonder if those are the last words he'll hear. He's dying. I know he is. Your Uncle Harry said this will be his last Christmas, no more ever after this. What do you say to someone you've spent your whole life loving when you know in your heart they are the last words they'll hear? I can't live without your father, Wendy, I can't go on without him. I will never be able to face another day knowing he will not be there to see it with me. I can't look forward to happiness and joys without having him there to share it with. I know the vows say until death parts us, but there has to be something else, something else stronger that make it last longer than that …"

Wendy cried too, now hugging her mother around her neck. They both let go at the same time and wiped each other's tears away, "What ever will become of us?" Wendy smiled through her heartache, as her mother broke down again, leaning her head on Wendy's shoulder. Wendy stoked her mother's hair, kissing her head, which Mary lifted touching her hands to Wendy's face, cupping her chin; "I know you see Captain Hook in Father James. We see what we need to see, Wendy. We see what we must see to survive. I look at your father, and as old and decrepit as everyone says he is, I swear I still see him looking up to me from the street below, I see him that morning we woke up together after making love for the first time. I see him holding you when you were first born, and John and Michael and Jane. I don't see him old, I don't see the gray hair, and I don't see the wrinkled face. Every time I look at him, I see him as I remember him best, madly in love with me, so young to the world."

"Captain Hook was real. He was real, mother, he was." Wendy wept touching her Mary's face in the same manner, them both nodding in agreement.

"Yes, Wendy, he was real, for you alone loving him made him that way."

"And now its too late, he's gone and Jane's gone and it's all my fault!" Wendy cried into her mother's chest, oceans of tears shed in a cemetery on Christmas night. Mary ran her fingers through Wendy's hair. Years and years had passed, and still she preferred to wear it long, cascading down on its own regard.

As Wendy's last tears fell, her mother squeezed her, "It's alright, Wendy, when I learned of his passing, I cried too. That's why I'm scared. I think of your father, when he is gone, whom will I go to when I need comfort and love? Who will I share my secrets with, my dreams? How will I go on without him there every day to remind me of what being in love is like?"

Mary tugged Wendy's arm, helping her to stand, "I promise, Mother, as long as I am alive you will never be alone. And you can always love the part of me that belongs to Father. That is why God gave me to you in the first place, so you will always have a part of Father."

Mary smiled and kissed her cheek, abruptly turning to check the hand mirror she carried in her purse to fix her face, "Whatever will your father think?"

Mary fiddled with her disheveled hair, turning to fix Wendy's. "He will think you are beautiful," Wendy told her, "because you are."

Mary kissed Wendy's cheek once more, "You are far more beautiful than I, Wendy, for you have your father in you." She wiped the tears from her own cheeks. "You should not blame yourself, Wendy, for the fates of Captain Hook and baby Jane. They were not gifts to us to keep forever, they were only priceless treasures loaned to us by God, who expected them back in timely manner."

Wendy giggled, "You make them sound like library books, Mother."

Mary wrapped her arm around Wendy as they began their stroll home, "God puts some people on this earth, and their calling takes them a lifetime to accomplish, and even then when they die they still did not finish what they started. Then there are others who are given vocations that they complete quickly, and God, just as quickly, calls them back to him and rewards them for their loyal duties. I know in my heart that Captain Hook is with God in heaven, for he has earned it. Jane will return to this earth again, because she deserves to experience life and all it has to offer, especially the part of all of us that grows up."

Mary and Wendy arrived home, through the back door, so as to not cause a stir with the guests still enjoying the party. There was music and dancing, good food, wine and happy spirits shaking their modest home on its foundation. "Here, I brought this down for you." Mary had picked a fancy gown special for her daughter when she and George did their last minute Christmas shopping, complete with matching slippers, shawl and stockings all the same hue of periwinkle.

"This is not mine," Wendy said in awe, gazing at the lovely fabric.

"Yes, it is, Happy Christmas. One of your gifts, you can unwrap the rest later," Mary told her, tilting her head to the pantry, "Change in there, I lied to your father, I told him you were in the kitchen helping."

Wendy had already begun to unbutton her blouse heading to the closet in the kitchen, "Only a partial lie, I was in the kitchen helping, just not this one." Wendy winked to her mother.

"Do you need help dressing?" Mary offered, as Wendy shook her head staring at the gorgeous dress once more on the hanger before closing the door behind her.

George Darling sat in his favorite chair playing cards, high stakes poker, with his old friends from the bank, betting back and forth, drinking liqueur and smoking cigars that stank up the parlor. Sitting next to him was his youngest grandson, a child who would one day be a man that would walk on the face of the planet named George Darling as well. The cards were dealt and George Junior would tap on his grandfather's arm in their own secret code the card face and suit. "What do you think I should do?" George would whisper to his grandson who would smile about the table and then tap another secret message George always agreed with. The last hand was thrown down, with George winning, before the piano struck up again and everyone who was not yet drunk began jigging about the parlor and into the hall.

"Come, Father, dance with Mother!" John shouted, spinning his wife around.

"Dancing is for the young, such as yourself, John!" George bellowed back toasting them with his glass. George stared up to Mary who was watching the festivities with a large smile of happiness when George commented, "Not to mention, John, your mother is a horrible dancer!" as John and his wife spun by again.

"I didn't mean that, Mary."

George clutched her hand, she looking down at him not having heard his comment. "What didn't you mean, George?" George shut his eyes to hold in the tears that filled them, opening them swiftly to wipe his face with a handkerchief that knocked his glasses to the floor. Mary bent down and picked them up, kneeling before him to help him reaffix them properly to his face. "George, what's wrong?" Mary too held back tears waiting to take their leave of her eyes, as George wept into his handkerchief, all as the party and people danced by.

"You should be with someone, Mary, someone who can dance you around on your toes and make love to you like you want. Not me, not someone old and dying like me."

Mary held her head up with her eyes shut tight to hold back a sob, "George, I see you the same way you see me, you are the same man I married, the same man who has loved me all these years. You are just as handsome to me and as strong in your heart as the first time I ever laid eyes on you. There is not another man in the entire universe that will ever take your place in my heart. Remember that."

Mary stood up; grabbing a wine glass someone had left on the side table and began tapping the side with a spoon to gather everyone's attention. The room silenced, just as Wendy made her way down the hall to the entranceway where her mother stood and father sat to watch. "George and I want to thank everyone for coming tonight to share this holiday with us. We've always felt that, on this blessed day, the most important thing to have is family and friends to spend it with, for he who has friends and family that love him, is the wealthiest of them all." A round of "hear-hear!" passed over the crowd with guests raising their glasses as Mary knelt down again in front of George clutching his hands and began speaking in the same loud tone.

"George Darling, I love you more than anything in this world, more than the stars in the sky or all the flowers in every garden on this green earth, or the heavens in all their glory. I want to thank you for honoring me by choosing me as your wife, entrusting me with your children, giving me a happy home to raise them in, and helping me along every day of my life. I am sorry for the times I hurt you, or were not there for you when you needed me most. Thank you for looking past my faults and forgiving me. Thank you for being my pillar of strength when I was too weak to stand, thank you for being my brave and courageous knight that protected me when I was too frightened to step out of the darkness into the light. Thank you for taking care of me when I was sick, thank you for loving those I love simply because I loved them. Thank you for listening to me when I speak and hearing me when I need to be heard. Thank you for giving me your voice when I was silent and your heart when mine was broken." Mary let all her tears fall she spoke. Each tear that rolled down her cheek, George wiped with his hankie, he too was crying.

"You are my life, George. Everything I am is only because of you, there has never been a day that has passed that I am not thankful that God answered my prayers and sent you to me. I'm sorry at times I was blinded by my own selfishness not to see you. I love you, George Darling. I can't find the words to tell you all that I have in my heart and soul. I'm sorry, I can't go on any further." Mary turned to crowd encircling them, not a dry eye in the house. "I love you, George." Mary fell into his hug and kissed his face. She leaned into his ear and whispered just for him to hear, "When you get the heaven's gate and you meet Saint Peter, please ask him to send for me immediately and without delay."

George held Mary tighter as she spoke and nodded his head, both weeping with the guests watching. Wendy made her way into the parlor and nudged the piano player off his seat. She fixed her dress and began playing a slow waltz, pinching her brother John. "Oh yes, EVERYBODY DANCE!" he shouted getting her silent message and so they did.

Mary tried to pretty her face, still kneeling by George, but to no avail, "You look stunning, Mary," he smirked proudly to her, she only shaking her head, "It's no use, I shall spend the rest of the night with rouge smeared all over my forehead."

"Mary," George clasped her hands, pulling her near, "I am not going to die tomorrow."

Mary gave him a quizzical expression and then softened it, remembering he was not aware of the doctor's diagnosis of his heart ailment. "Of course not, George."

He shook his head back to her, "Help me stand." She did with the aid of John, and arm in arm, they walked about the crowd. "I know about my heart, Mary, I don't need Harry to tell me. It's just; I know God would never take me off this earth before I get to walk my daughter down the aisle to her husband. We've had this bargain for years, your father, God and me. I promised Grandpa Joe that when I walked Wendy down the aisle, I would do it the right way, beaming with pride no matter what the circumstances were, he even left money in his will so she could have a regal and glorious wedding, to make up for the one we never had. So I prayed to God, and I have to tell you I've been praying to him so much lately I think when I finally do get to heaven we'll be on a first name basis, and asked Him to at least do me that honor. You see, Mary I know I will see Wendy get married, and maybe, just maybe there will be enough blessings left over that I can hold our first grandchild by her."

They both watched Wendy play the waltz and then begin another more joyful Christmas tune, which struck everyone up into a carol of voices singing, "Oh holy night, the stars are brightly shining..."

"Mary," George caught his wife attention and with a stern and quite serious face he informed her, "I will die before you, and you will live on long after. And you must promise me, you will live and love and be happy..."

God sat in heaven looking down with His elbow resting on His knee, holding His hand under His chin waiting. He was not about to strike Wendy Darling down where she sat hours before, eating her supper with the poor, nor was He angry that she and James began their unknowing courtship in His house. Truth be told, He preferred it that way, for that was the only way He could be assured there was to be no more lying. So there He sat on His throne, waiting.

Not only waiting, but rather growing impatient, He turned His eyes for a moment over to where Father James knelt and prayed by his bed, ready for sleep, and listened, "Bless Wendy on this sacred night for her selfless acts and help her find her way. I know she wants that life with a husband and family, make her a wife and a mother, dearest Lord …"

"Oh brother…" Captain Hook whined from where he stood nearest the Lord's throne and shook his head. He stalked off out of sight without another word leaving God to sigh deeply as He rose from his throne to stretch His arms out, giving a great big mighty yawn. "Free will, Father James, you must remember you have free will…"