From the moment Peter streaked from the water, dripping and silent, until Wendy crawled into her bed, she'd become a pariah to him. He'd fled to the jungle after Tiger Lily disappeared and reappeared hours later, as Wendy placed wooden bowls of meat and something resembling potatoes onto the wobbly table. Peter's eyes never left the meal, while he ignored the dented spoon and scooped out the contents with his fingers. Once finished, he escaped the lair, knocking the door closed.
Her heart sank further and further into sadness when she tucked the Boys into their furs, side by side, kissing their temples. In the adjoining room, she blew out the candle, shed clothing down to her shift, got into bed and sniffed into her pillow. Who knew a kiss could make everything so wrong?
Wendy's fingers played with the bumpy pillow, remembering the contours of Peter's muscles. It was wrong of her to assume he felt the same strange sensation of possession. Tiger Lily's arrival, both majestic and indecent, had spurned Wendy's distrust—no, her jealousy. Her fingers tightened around the fur blanket. Tiger Lily had no right to use magic to grow up. Wendy had waited years to see Peter, to return to Neverland. The spiteful Indian princess could go find her own Lost Boy.
But Peter wasn't hers. Tears raced from Wendy's eyes and dripped off her nose. Only a few hours before, he had made it abundantly clear when he vanished without so much as an unfriendly "Hello."
The inky blackness of the hideout leeched into her mind. Surely he would return her to London, and the awful wedding. It served her right for acting like a wanton girl, with painted lips and plunging necklines to attract the hungry glances of men. It had just happened so quickly that she wished she could take it back and apologize. He must hate her to stay away all day.
The bed dipped down and Wendy gasped. She hadn't even heard anyone approach.
"Come with me." Peter's calloused hand traced down her bare arm and clutched her hand. He smelled like the green leaves in the jungle.
Her heart sputtered. "I just need my shawl, if you please," she whispered. She would not be taken home nearly naked, if that was his intent. Wendy bumped her free hand around in the dark, trying to avoid any part of Peter's body.
He let go of her hand and she was alone once more.
"Peter?" She sat up, pressing the fur to her chest.
A heavy fabric draped her shoulders just before his two hands pulled the corners forward. His fingers brushed her collarbone when he placed the corners of her shawl near her neck. Her skin danced with invisible fire. The moment Wendy caught the shawl with one hand, Peter grabbed the other and tugged her from bed. She ignored the dirt between her toes, carefully walking behind him in the darkness, unable to see anything.
They passed the soft snores and heavy breathing of the little ones. Wendy knew they were headed to the door and prayed the Boys would not be sad for too long without a Mother. At least they had a warm dinner and bedtime story.
Peter pulled Wendy along the lush grass once they were outside. Stars blinked overhead between moonlit clouds. A Neverland animal or bird purred from the canopy high above and dampness weighted the air. It smelled like rain was coming. It would help hide her tears. At least…at least she had Neverland again and would remember it when she needed to most—like an invisible treasure in her pocket of her mind.
They stopped. "Step on this. Be careful."
Wendy squinted and could barely make out a board or piece of wood. She inched forward, toes gripping the edge. Peter moved her hand to a rope and she grabbed ahold with the other hand. She squealed when the board lurched.
"Hold tight." His voice was clipped and terse. Even though his arms brushed against hers while the board lifted into the air as he pulled a rope, Peter seemed far, far away.
He huffed and strained, their platform swinging in the night, higher and higher, until the movement stopped. Reflected in the scarce moonlight, a dais stretched out at their feet between the forked branches of the enormous tree. Peter hopped out first and extended his hand to help Wendy out. Once both of her feet were on solid wood, he let go and walked to the furthest edge. He sat down, feet dangling.
All around, Neverland slept. Wendy pulled her shawl closer, near the tree trunk. Before she left, there was one thing she needed to do.
"Peter." She swallowed past the wobble in her voice. "I am sorry if I offended you this afternoon." There. If he didn't forgive her, at least she tried.
He patted the vacant space beside him. The boards echoed his slap. She slid forward, one cautious step at a time. Wendy lowered herself next to him, leaving enough space for tiny Boo to sit.
"I want adventures, Wendy." He hadn't spoke to her in such a long time that his baritone sent a race of goosebumps down the back of her neck. "I may look grown up, but inside, I still want to be a boy."
She bit the inside of her cheek and held it with her teeth. It helped keep her breathing even and the pain made the threat of tears retreat. It really had been a lovely time. It wasn't every day that one could sit in a tree house, legs suspended, in a nightgown.
"But I'm not a boy." Peter groaned and rolled onto his back. "I do not like Tiger Lily growing up and butting in on our adventures. But she is clever."
Wendy played with the loose ends of her shawl, heart careening inside her chest. More than anything in the world, she wanted to stay in Neverland, next to the boy-man at her side.
"Why aren't you saying anything?" He bolted upright and thrust his face towards hers. "Are you sick?"
"No," she murmured. "I do not want to say or do the wrong thing again. You were so angry with me today. I could not possibly endure your silence again." Her fingers threaded the fringe back and forth, working out the knots.
"Oh that?" Peter laughed. It echoed in the leaves above, a rich, full hoot. "I was just working things out in my head. I wasn't particularly mad at you. Although I was…"
Wendy turned toward him, their noses closer than she expected. "You were what?"
In the moonlight, he set his teeth and rolled his eyes. Lifting his chin, he resumed his previous position on his back, hands tucked behind his head. "It doesn't matter."
"But it does to me, Peter." Wendy twisted herself around. "Maybe I could help you sort out what is wrong. I have been an adult longer than you have." He probably didn't understand jealousy, and that would be difficult to explain. Thank goodness the night would hide her scarlet cheeks.
"I don't want to talk about it." His firm voice was tinged with embarrassment.
"That's alright." She sat forward again and appreciated the view. The jungle was black below, the sea beyond, a moving spectacle of grayish shades. The white moon ducked behind clouds and a breeze hinted again at rain.
"I was just confused, that's all. We were running and racing. Then you were pressed up against me and I wanted to feed Tiger Lily to Tick Tock because I thought she would hurt you."
Wendy's eyes widened.
The boards creaked beside her. "Not to mention what happened next."
She felt her entire face plunge into a blush.
"And…I didn't mind that part." His voice tickled her ear.
Her hands flew to cover her face. How scandalous the entire thing had turned out! And she sat in her shift next to him. "I was just so angry at her." Wendy talked through her hands. "She will never give you up."
"What does that mean?" Peter's arm pressed into her side.
She lowered her hands but kept her eyes on the water. "She loves you, Peter. She will not share you with me."
"Ha!"
"It is not funny. She will try to win your heart. And she will make my life here miserable." Wendy's head tipped sideways until it rested against his. "There will be no peace with a warrior princess who's prize possession is Peter Pan."
"I will not be owned. No one tells Peter Pan what to do." If she didn't know any better, she could almost swear that he inhaled the smell of her hair.
Wendy chuckled. "My dear Peter. Someday, you will have to listen to someone else and do what they tell you to do. It is part of growing up."
"I don't mind if you tell me what to do, Wendy. I grew up for you."
She looked down at his thigh, which had crept closer and nearly touched her own. "Even I would never try to tell the great Peter Pan what to do. Although you may have to wash behind your ears a bit better."
He smiled into her shoulder. "You do know that there is only one way we can resolve this problem, don't you?"
"Do tell." A fat raindrop plopped onto the top of her head.
"We must get married."
