Chapter 8.

Sobbing in my room helplessly while the songs of the night tapped against my window, I had never felt so alone. If only things stayed the same and I did not have to worry about having people leave and get married or die or grow up.

Not even as my sobs grew louder did the winds song fade, and as I opened my window to allow the song to enter my room and take over my sorrow, I felt as if I would be lifted up. My long nightgown flew about me along with my long hair that was finally free from the pins that had suffocated my head the whole day. Putting my head out of the window, Wendy's story loitered about the air and I could almost hear her voice telling me of her adventures.

"Peter Pan…" I had uttered his name barely above a whisper, yet it seemed that the wind had picked it up and brought it sailing about over the fields.

Above me the moon gleamed, and I could feel my tears against my cheek. Wiping my cheeks, I saw the vines growing along a small lattice that leaned against the house. Without another thought as to the precautions of what I was about to do, I stepped out of my window and down the wall, dropping down to the ground when I was ten feet high and landing on my feet in a way that had my legs buckle and snap.

The sight of my window open with my curtains flying out had me laughing. If Jeanette had just saw my performance, she would have me in the kitchen cleaning dishes and sewing until kingdom come. She would ship me off to an academy for girls that were in dire need to be polished, and I would become a regular heathen and get kicked out just to smite her and show I would not be that easily rid of.

"I feel as if I could fly…" I giggled as I twirled about and skipped into the fields, dropping onto my back when I had reached the middle of the tall weeds. "Peter…"

"You called?"

Out of my gaze and bright thoughts of rebelliousness and escapades, I realized a boy was standing over me. My first thought was that I wore a thin nightgown that was of the most revealing nature, and I sat up and covered myself, feeling exposed to this stranger.

"What are you doing that for? Do you suppose I care a bit about what some silly girl is wearing?" the boy laughed audaciously, full of mirth and jollity.

"Who are you?"

"You called me," he shook his head. "Obviously you know who I am. Who are you?"

"Margaret Anita Maurice."

"Margaret Anita Maurice?" he snorted at my name. "You sound like some old lady who talks to her cat and sews quilts!"

"Not everyone calls me by my full name…"

"I think I like Annie," he interrupted decisively. "Margie sounds like the name of some fat girl who eats too much, and Maggie is too boyish. Anita is too stiff, and Ann too plain. Annie sounds best."

"That is what my mother and Nicholas call me!" I stated. "Well… Nicholas, he doesn't call me Annie anymore, but mother still does. I love being called Annie though. It seems so much more fun than Margaret. It is such an old name, and I don't think that I am quite ready yet to be old."

"I never shall be ready."

"Oh, I think I never shall as well." I grinned at how similar he seemed to myself. "Why, it seems such a bore, and I would rather go out and run about, not being bothered with grown-up things."

"I think we shall get along fine, Annie." he returned my grin. "Even if you are a girl. Come now."

"Where are we going?" I stared at his outstretched hand hesitantly. "Will I be back by the morning? I don't want to get in trouble by Jeanette, or worry mother."

"No worries tonight," he said as he grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet in one swift jerk, causing me to laugh out of surprise. "That'll only ruin the fun."

"What do you have planned?" I asked, taking a good look at his face that glowed with excitement. "Anything in particular?"

"Just like you girls to try and ruin the surprise," he commented before taking off through the fields. "You going to stand there like a ninny all night or are you going to follow me? At that pace we shall all be in our graves by the time we get there!"

A year had gone by since my visit to Neverland. Stuck in a world where time proceeds on, I made the best of Nicholas and Jeanette's wedding, even celebrating and being excited when Jeanette announced her pregnancy. Thoughts of being Ol' Aunt Margaret Anita no longer seemed that unbearable, for I could always just be Auntie Annie if all else failed. I pictured myself telling my niece or nephew all of my childhood secrets and where all the best hiding places were. So lost in my anticipation for the future, I had near forgotten the boy who had promised me forever.

"Wilhelma Georgiana," I cooed while cradling my newborn niece. "You have it worse than I. Jeanette will show you no mercy. Your first words will be 'thank you kindly' and you'll be curtsying before you even know how to walk."

When Wilhelma was born a month ago, I had moved in with Jeanette to tend to the baby. I slept in the nursery with my niece, resting before the bay window on a small bed that sat before the grand window, which was like a portal to another world.

"But with me here, you'll have an iron will. I'd like to see how well you'll challenge Jeanette's authority while under my wing."

Resting my sleeping niece in her crib, I took a deep breath. My sister had won in her challenge to cultivate me. My wedding gift to Jeanette was that I would try to be more cooperative and I could not have given her a better gift. It took just as much effort, probably more, to obey Jeanette's demands. Sitting before a crowd of people dressed like some doll, I had never felt so ridiculous. I frowned at how I was beginning to look more like a lady and spent countless nights mourning over how much my appearance has changed.

"Such a figure," Mother would compliment. "Count your blessing, Annie. You have much to be thankful for."

Thankful indeed! Why just last evening, I had some random fellow who saw me at Wilhelma's Christening follow me home and propose during the celebration afterward. How fortunate that I got to spend my day completely mortified from turning down a fellow suitor who did not even know my name, nor I his. Such luck I have, getting to push away everyone who lays themselves before me as if I should be thankful. Thankfulness is the last feeling that goes throughout me these days.

My only companion has been Wendy. Lately her fair complexion has changed to that of a ghastly whiteness that was not becoming nor healthy for a young lady (according to Jeanette). Her figure, already quite slim to begin with, was now frail and seemed as if the wind could up and take her away like a leaf.

Even her spirit seemed diminished. No longer did she laugh freely, but smiled softly and nodded her head, as this sadness passed over her eyes. When I had asked Jeanette about Wendy's well-being, she had only denied her being sick.

"Come now, Margaret, Wendy is well and could not be better." Jeanette lied. "I know not where your anxiety towards her being sick comes from, but it is entirely unhealthy for a young lady."

Everyone could feed me falsehoods all they like, but nothing could hide the truth that Wendy Darling was dying.

"Peter… where are you?" I murmured to the closed window, pressing my hand against the glass at a world I had been cut off from.

"Where indeed…" a dark voice chuckled before a hook was wielded before my eyes.