Wendy could smell the chocolate cake in the oven. Michael streaked by, shirtless, in his trousers and his headdress, whooping at an imaginary pirate. John has his feet propped onto the ottoman, glasses low on his nose and completely lost in his book. Nana raised her head to watch Michael circle the dining room table twice before returning to her nap. Windchimes tinkled through the open window.
As she pulled the cake out, Michael caught her elbow on his circuit. She spun and the cake disappeared. "Michael!" she cried, her body continuing to twist round and round and round. Wendy closed her eyes, dizzy and unable to stop. "John, help me!"
Her body jerked to a stop when someone yanked the tender hair near her forehead. "Ow!" Where was the cake? The tiny windchimes seemed to resonate at her ears. Someone jerked her hair again? "Stop!"
On the third tug, Wendy's eyes snapped open. The jingling, glittery fairy let go of her hair. Wendy rubbed her sore temple. "Tink. What a rude way to wake me. You would not like if I pulled your hair."
Beyond the fairy at her head, Wendy noticed Peter was absent. Maybe he'd gone to find her a ring.
Tinkerbell flitted into the air, motioning for Wendy to emerge from her nest. Reluctantly, Wendy obeyed, crawling onto the wooden platform.
Neverland, now bright under the high sun, stretched below her, green and lush. From the large, twin rocks in the bay before her, Wendy knew she was somewhere near Mermaid Lagoon—those lovely creatures who wanted to drown her, but adored Peter.
Her stomach rolled and gurgled. She would do anything for a slice of the dream chocolate cake. "Is there any food, Tink?" The fairy shook her head. "Well, then, I'll have to climb down and find some."
Winded from the long descent, Wendy caught her breath once her toes touched the moss. "Did Peter send you to keep track of me?"
Tink rolled her eyes and nodded. She zipped down a small trail and doubled back, signaling for Wendy to follow. Though little beads of sweat collected on her brow, Wendy walked with her shawl crossed over the flimsy undergarment, silently regretting her state of dress.
"You were right, you know."
Wendy flinched, taken off guard by Peter's drifting words. She craned her head to peer into the jungle, suddenly aware that her guide had disappeared. "I was?" Nothing gave away his location, his sounds echoing into the Neverland leaves.
"You asked me if I had felt something, long ago."
Her breath caught as she followed his voice.
High above the path, in the skeleton of a dead tree, Peter stood high on a branch, his naked arms draped above his head on another bough. He watched her from his perch, the sun breaking through the leaves to make the tips of his red hair glow like warm embers. "I have felt…love."
Wendy backed until she met with a solid tree trunk, eyes never leaving the boy in the trees, in case he disappeared like her dream cake. She slid down, resting her chin onto her knees, preferring to sit instead of swooning, for she certainly wanted to faint at Peter's admission. Surely she would wake, Fitzsimmons' ring wrapped around her finger. Cocooned in her shawl, she clasped her hands round her knees.
She watched as he worked his way closer, shimmying down the tree, branch by branch, one calloused foot in front of the other on the dirt, until his muscled calf was within reach. His toenails were broken and dirty. The frayed edges of his baggy cut-off pants hung just below his knees. Wendy didn't dare look up to his exposed chest. Her cheeks already burned with equal parts of embarrassment and...no. She stuffed her lust back into propriety. It wouldn't do to act wantonly.
Wendy pushed a tangled piece of hair behind her ear. She probably looked frightful, hair unbrushed, in dirty undergarments, but squared her shoulders. "How do you know you felt love?"
"Is part of being married telling one another everything?"
His sudden change of topic caught Wendy off guard. She craned her head up. Oh dear. She needed to keep her eyes on his or she would forget herself. "Not everything, but most things, yes." Certainly, he did not need to hear about her monthly dealings. Or how much she longed for a bathroom.
Peter squatted. He studied her face. "Love feels like a fire...or being underwater too long."
Something squeezed inside Wendy's ribcage and her hand flew to cover her heart. How many nights had she dreamed of flying with Peter again? Imagined sword fights where more than blades kissed. And now he was before her, describing love. "Like drowning?"
"When you stayed behind and I left before, I was mad that you chose them instead of me."
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. So many times, she'd cursed her decision. "Oh, Peter," she breathed.
He sat, his bare toes pushed against hers. "Then I was sad you weren't here. I remembered your stories and your thimble. And when we watched the fairies." His right hand cautiously moved forward to brush hers. "No matter how hard I tried to forget you, I couldn't. And then I didn't want to. So I would come at night, to make sure you didn't see me."
"Why didn't you wake me?" She could've had years with him already. "Had I offended you?"
Peter wagged his head. "No. But I didn't want you to think I'd changed my mind. Peter Pan doesn't change his mind."
"A pity."
"Why's that?"
Wendy shrugged. "It is the simplest of mistakes that can bring a lifetime of heartache." She thought about the night Peter had left years ago. She rued the moment she agreed to marry Fitzsimmons, even with the promise of security. And the bad investments her father made. A wink of memory, when she'd agreed to leave Peter and the Lost Boys, to become a pirate. "But when you say you are wrong, when you ask for an apology..." Her words faded at the thought of Father on his knees in the parlor last year, begging Mother for forgiveness and the heated kisses that followed. She was never meant to see it, but the image had blossomed into a fantasy of her own with the young man before her.
"What?" Peter rocked forward, both hands now resting on her kneecaps. "When you ask for an apology, what happens?"
"It..." She scrambled for an answer other than kissing, though it was the response she wanted. The shame. "It gives you the opportunity to make things right." Yes, very good.
A spark of the boy inside squared Peter's chin. "Well I want to apologize and make things right." There were flecks of gold in those hazel eyes and his lips were chapped.
"For what?"
"I should've taken you back to Neverland that very night."
She shook her head. "We can't changed what happened."
Peter stared intently, yet Wendy didn't mind. She counted the freckles across the bridge of his nose and saw the crease in his cheek where his dimple hid. Her hand drifted up to chafe the stubble on his chin and she smiled.
He leaned forward, over her knees. "I apologize." His breath warmed her lips. "How do I make things right?"
Wendy's pulse spiked and she felt light-headed. No, she would not give into temptation, no matter the way his lips now brushed the tip of her nose. Then her cheek. And the corner of her mouth.
"Wendy?"
Her eyes opened. She hadn't even realized they were closed. "Yes," she whispered.
"I have felt love. It doesn't offend me anymore. What more could there be?"
A very unladylike groan escaped her lips. "There is so much more."
He leaned forward to rest his forehead against her. "I think it becomes clearer when you grow up."
A big shout out to ShirleyAnn66 for helping me get past the writers block with a bit of chocolate cake! ~JS
