Once upon a time, I found this image and it sparked a little story in my mind.
"Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all." The memory of his voice in her ear bowed her chin to her chest. Her fingers flexed on the window casing. "Come with me where you'll never, never have to worry about grown-up things again." Somewhere in the house below, Fitzsimmons' booming laughter latched its grown-up claws of matrimony into her mind.
"Peter," she whispered to the clear London sky, "Please come save me. I am so sorry." Wendy didn't dare shed a tear from the corner of her eye—her mother would chastise her for ruining her rouge.
"Wendy." John's warbling voice, caught between child and adult, called from the dark room behind her. "They are asking for you. I'm not sure I can..."
"Wendy Darling! Come away from that window at once!" The room flooded with light when their mother flicked the switch on her bee-line path. "You are freezing and are going to put a crease in that dress." Mrs. Darling turned Wendy by her shoulders away from the starlight and examined her daughter. "Why do you keep Mr. Fitzsimmons waiting, Wendy? This is a exceptional match and he's a wonderful man."
A sigh escaped Wendy. "Yes, Mother. He is wonderful. I...I just needed a moment alone before I head into the grown-up world." She glanced at John over Mother's shoulder, who pushed up the glasses up the bridge of his nose. His gaze shifted somewhere behind her, out of the window. Wendy knew he was looking for the second star to the right.
"It's not like this is a death sentence, dear. It's just marriage." Her mother's nervous titter did nothing to soothe Wendy's anguished soul. Mrs. Darling tucked a stray curl behind Wendy's ear. "You look lovely. Let's go back downstairs now before your father comes up."
Wendy tucked her arm into her mother's elbow and lifted her chin. She didn't want to grow up yet, washed in regret of always delaying one more adventure. It had been foolish to think Peter would come back for her. She had no good reason why he should become a grown-up, made to work a job and wear suits. No, Peter would look silly with his hair smoothed down, curls smashed into submission. Still...he would look awfully handsome in a pinstripe standing by her side; his pocket kerchief dyed to match her fancy peach, satin dress. Wendy touched the pearls at her neck. Peter would have traded with the mermaids for them, not bought them from a jeweler.
Downstairs once more, she was deposited at her fiancé's side. As required by duty and politeness, Wendy remained silent while the men yammered on about politics. She stifled a yawn and shifted from one foot to the next, keeping a veiled observation on her father as he scrutinized her every move.
Out of the corner of her eye, a streak of white and red disappeared underneath the tablecloth. Moving with matched speed, John positioned himself behind the table. Wendy watched him sink below the edge to try and talk Michael from his favorite retreat—he must've escaped the nanny again.
"Excuse me. I need a glass of punch." Half relieved, Wendy was likewise annoyed Fitzsimmons hadn't offered to retrieve her beverage. With a dramatic swish of satin, she angled her body towards the animated lace tablecloth.
"You need to come out before Father finds you." Wendy recognized the tone in John's voice. It was the same one he had when she had told him she had accepted Fitzsimmons' proposal, equal parts a warning and desperate plea to reconsider.
"I don't care if he finds me," whispered the void beneath the cucumber sandwiches.
Wendy poked Michael with the tip of her shoe. "You will when he breaks your bow and arrows as punishment." He slept with his favorite toys when their mother let him.
Heaving a frustrated huff, Michael crawled out from his hiding spot. His white knuckles gripped tight around his prized possessions.
"Good boy, Michael." Wendy moved next to her brothers and pulled her fingers through Michael's tousled hair. "Be a lad and go back to Nanny before Mother figures out you've escaped again."
"Nanny is a bore!"
She and John both chuckled. "She is," John agreed. "But you are only ten and it is well past your bedtime." He tugged the ever-present watch from his waistcoat to confirm the time.
"Bedtime is a bore unless Wendy tells me a story." Michael turned his blue eyes up to Wendy.
"Goodness me, Michael. I haven't told you a story in a long time."
His lip jutted out. "I know."
Across the room, Wendy saw their father access his three children before taking a step in their direction. "You must go now, Michael." Wendy pushed his lithe body towards the kitchen. "I will be up as soon as I can to tell you a story. I promise, but you need to go now." A glance over her shoulder revealed Father had been mercifully stopped my Mrs. Turner.
"About Neverland?"
Wendy turned back to her siblings. John's brown eyes never wavered from her. Was it really five years ago Peter had whispered into her ear? And here she was, stuck at her own engagement party to a man she barely knew and certainly didn't love or even have adventures with.
She leaned down and gathered Michael into her arms to keep her tears at bay. "Of course it'll be a story of Neverland. Those are the best and only kind of stories you should hear."
Please jump over to tumblr and look up droo216 - specifically his Peter Pan boards. They are nothing short of mesmerizing and the inspiration for my latest fascination.
No idea where this lovely diversion will take me, but away we go! ~JS
