Chapter Two

After putting the boys to sleep that night, James sat in front of the fire with a steaming cup of tea. Madame Du Murier entered the room quietly and sat down.

"Good evening, Emma." James uttered in his friendly Scottish accent. Emma gave a nod of her head and sadly gazed into the fire. She must have remembered that it had been one year since the death of her daughter. "Er…" He began, forcing himself to make some sort of conversation with the sad old woman, "did you enjoy your lunch with the Robinson's today?" Emma's eyes lit up.

"Actually yes, thank you for remembering. Jane is always dripping with news. Apparently, a young girl moved in just across the park. Ran away from her parents, very wealthy family I'm told. Quite the scandal." James nodded, not even realizing that she was talking about the woman he had met this morning. "What was her name… Dawson? Yes, that's it. Molly Dawson!" James' cup of tea seemed to leap out of his hand and crash on the wood floor below him.

"Did you say Molly Dawson?" Emma nodded. "I met her in the park today. She seemed like a very pleasant young woman to me." She cocked her head to one side and pursed her lips in an annoyed manner.

"I hope you're not planning to see this woman again. It wouldn't be good for your already ruined reputation. You have no idea what that girl has been up to these last years. It would be in yours and the boys' best interest to keep as far away from her as possible." She stated harshly.

"With all due respect, Madame, I believe it is not up to you whom I do and do not associate with." Emma rose from her chair and stomped her foot.

"Honestly James! It doesn't matter to me in the slightest if you see her again or not. What matters is that you are making my family, my own grandsons look like fools because of the people you insist on hanging about with." James felt his face getting hot and his temper rising, something that rarely happened in his case.

"May I remind you that the main people you didn't want me 'hanging about with' were your grandsons. I think the people of this city have grown accustomed to the fact that I am their legal guardian, as should you. Good night, Madame. Sleep well." On that, James exited and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He threw his fists angrily against the wall and then it hit him: Why was he so upset over such a little thing? Why was he so set upon spending more time with Molly? It didn't make sense to him at all. Even with Sylvia, it took him longer to become attached. He shrugged it off and decided he was a bit lonely, not having a woman to call his own in over a year. He resolved to sleep it off and when he saw her again tomorrow, he would search Molly for flaws.

"If there are any…"

The very next morning, against Emma's wishes, James took the boys to the park. The instant the other boys were off playing Peter and James sat on the same bench as they both eagerly began to write. Peter exhaled and began talking.

"Who was that woman you were talking to yesterday?" There was a hint of anger in his voice; James knew what was coming.

"No one of great consequence, Peter." James replied in his calming voice. Peter threw his journal into the dirt and began to shout.

"Then why were you looking at her the way you were?! You used to look at my mother that way!" James, though he understood Peter's emotions, he was a bit confused by them. At Sylvia's funeral, Peter was ranting on and on about how much Sylvia loved her late husband and how she would never feel the same about James. Now, a year later, the tables had completely turned.

"Peter, please don't do this to me. Nothing is going on between me and that woman you saw yesterday. We just met. On the small chance that we do get better acquainted however, please give her a chance. She really is very nice." Peter muttered something under his breath, but in his state James wasn't about to inquire. Nor did he need to, for moments later Peter repeated what he had just said.

"Er… I'd really like to go home now," he said softly. Then, at the end he added, "Uncle Jim." James smiled and took Peter over to the other boys.

"George, would you mind walking your brother home. He's not up to it today. If you all would rather, you can stay home inside if you like. It looks like it's going to rain anyways." He explained, gazing up into the hazy clouds. The boys, having never much cared for the rain, took Peter home and remained with him there for the rest of the afternoon. James felt compelled to wait in the park for Molly. He would not let himself forget the promise he made to himself which was to search this woman up and down for flaws. Petty and shallow as it may sound, it was the only way he could think of. Sure enough, after only waiting 25 minutes more, she appeared. In James' eyes, she looked more radiant than she had the day before. He couldn't understand why, though. As she moved closer, he realized it. Her eyes, they were mesmerizing. They were an emerald green with a darker rim, merging toward a cool blue towards the center. She walked right up to him like they were old friends, giddy and smiling.

"Good afternoon, James!" Molly called, just as a crack of thunder could be heard in the distance. James felt like he was a teenager all over again, awkward and not knowing what to say to this magnificent girl standing before him. All he could muster without sounding too forward or too dim-witted was,

"Looks like rain." Immediately following this, he was kicking himself inside. Couldn't he have thought about something other than weather?! Like it mattered now, he had said it, she had heard it and it was done. Molly nodded carelessly and removed her pale gloves from her tan skinned hand. She sat down on the bench and patted the spot next to her, inviting James to join her. He accepted without hesitating, and for a moment his hand was resting on top of hers. Molly noticed this, and James saw her notice it. She widened her eyes, those beautiful green eyes, and inhaled deeply. She didn't move her hand or ask him to move his. Even so, he moved it anyways and hastily apologized. Much to his surprise, however, she looked disappointed when his hand left hers.

"So, James, where are those enchanting sons of yours?" Molly asked, dying to break the ice. For the first time since they met, James loosened up.

"Oh, they aren't my sons. I am their legal guardian. It's a rather sad story." She locked eyes with him, pleading him to go on. He sighed in the "If I must, I must" sort of way and continued. "A very dear friend of mine…" he choked up slightly, but pressed on. "well, she died almost one year ago to the day. Those are her four sons. In her will she asked her mother and myself to look after them. Those were the boys that inspired me to write 'Peter Pan,' as a matter of fact." This time, it was Molly's hand who found James'. She cradled his rough hand between her two smaller, daintier ones. He smiled briefly, but yanked it from her grip. The thunder cracked again, this time much louder, causing Molly to jump and, very strategically, she landed about 4 inches closer to James than where she was sitting before. Seeing not a change in his manner whatsoever, she decided that the park simply wasn't setting the mood she was looking for. Boldly, especially for a girl of just 18, she asked,

"Maybe you'd like to come back to my place. I make a marvelous cup of tea." This, of course, was a total lie. She'd never made tea in her life. In fact, she hated it. But, although she didn't show it, she was just as nervous as James was and this was the only thing she could come up with.

"Actually…" He was about to turn her down, he wanted to respect the memory of Sylvia. How could he do that if he was having tea and holding hands with another woman? But then he looked at Molly's innocent face, but sly grin and he melted. "Actually, tea sounds wonderful."