Chapter One

J.M Barrie opened his chocolate brown eyes to greet the foggy London skies that were just outside his window. He looked at his calendar. The date was March 17th: Exactly one year after Sylvia's death. He sighed, straining to remember certain things she said to him, or the way he felt when her hand was in his. He didn't want to forget her, but the little things were leaving his memory by the day. Bringing his hands to his face he rubbed his eyes and put his feet on the ground. His dog, Porthos, jumped out of the other side of the bed and pawed anxiously at the wooden door leading to the hallway.

"All right boy, calm down." James said as he opened the door just enough to let the dog out, then he went back into his bedroom to dress for the day. As he was straightening his tie and doing the last two buttons on his vest, a loud crash could be heard from downstairs. Rushing down the mahogany steps, he noticed one of Mary's old vases had been smashed. Jack was looking down at it in horror and Michael was pointing at him and taunting,

"You're in trouble now!" James bent over and picked up the pieces. He couldn't be angry at Jack, who was the charmer of the band of brothers.

"And just how did you manage to make such a mess, Jack?" The young boy stepped forward and explained that he was trying to play fetch with Porthos. James couldn't help but laugh. It never ceased to fascinate him that young boys were so innocent and naïve. "Well, don't worry about it. And I won't mention it to your Grandmother if you promise to always play with the dog outside, hmm?" Jack nodded happily with the knowledge that Ms. Du Maurier wouldn't know about the accident "Now, let's go to the park!" The four boys excitedly hurried out the door. Peter took up the rear, as usual, his nose in one of his journals. The park had always been the Davies brothers' favorite place to go every afternoon. Every so often, they would enjoy a game of make-believe in the backyard with James, but the park brought back so many memories they had of their mother. However, it was never quite the same for James. People always gave him cold stares and they looked at the children as if they pitied them for being under his care. He shrugged it off, nevertheless, because of his love for the boys. Sitting on a bench under an inviting weeping willow tree, James and Peter both took out their journals while George, Jack, and Michael took Porthos and played fetch with the fishing rod.

"What is your new play about, Peter?" Without looking up, the young and brilliant Peter responded,

"Mother, actually. You once told me that she was on every page of this book, and now she truly will be." James felt a chill run down his spine. He was touched that Peter remembered their conversation that took place almost one year ago. Out of the corner of his eye, James noticed that Jack was flirtatiously approaching a young woman, she couldn't have been over 18. This was the thing that everyone loved the most about Jack: His love for women. Even though he was only 12, his interest in women was already taking an out of the ordinary turn. However, James thought it best to spare Jack some humiliation and interrupted.

"Uncle Jim, can't you see that I'm busy?!" Jack protested angrily. Chuckling slightly, James responded, "Yes, yes I see. But look at your poor brothers. They aren't having any fun without you. How can they play with the dog when you brought the fishing line all the way over here?" It was obvious that the other two had no idea Jack was even missing, but James was persistent in leaving this poor girl alone so Jack scoffed and walked off. "I'm sorry about that." There was something about this girl that captivated James before she even said a word. "They're so wonderful when they're young, aren't they?" Nodding, James offered his hand to her,

"My names Barrie. J.M Barrie. How do you do?" The girl flashed him an innocent smile and replied,

"I'm Molly Dawson. Are you J.M Barrie the playwright?" James nodded, shocked that someone was willing to talk to him once they had learned his name. "I've seen all of your plays! I can't tell you how brilliant I think you are." Without realizing it, James was blushing. Molly noticed it but said nothing.

"Oh, that's very kind of you. Do call me James, if you don't mind." She nodded and removed her hat to smooth out her wavy, auburn hair. At that moment, he shamefully admitted to himself that he had never seen anyone quite as beautiful as Molly. How can I do this to Sylvia? he wondered. As intrigued as he was by this girl, he forced himself no to get carried away. On the contrary, he couldn't just stand there like a dope just staring at her.

"I've never seen you around here before. Do you come to this park often?" A devious smile lit up her face as she shook her head.

"No, I just recently moved out of my parents house into those apartments right there." She motioned across the park to the brownstone building. James found her American accent quite soothing for some reason. "Well, I didn't move out. Ran away would be a better way if putting it." Molly explained casually. James' eyes widened in shock.

"May I ask why?" He asked, surprised at himself for asking a stranger such a personal question. Molly shrugged uneasily and answered, "Perhaps when we get to know each other better. I actually do have to get going now, will you be here tomorrow?"

"That depends on the boys. Most likely, though." He responded with a boyish grin. Molly looked excited.

"Good to meet you, James. Oh, and your boys as well. Very charming." She shook his hand firmly once again and headed in the direction of her apartment. James returned to the bench with Peter, analyzing the preceding conversation very carefully. He really didn't know what to make of this young woman. Even though they had spoke briefly, he could tell that she was different than any other woman he'd ever met. She was fiery, and he could tell that she was young at heart. Wondering if he should feel guilty or liberated for meeting another woman, he led the boys back to his house.