Part 2 In the Valley of the Shadow of Death

"…Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me…" (Psalm 22)

If time really stood still in Neverland, then nothing at all would happen. But tonight something is happening, - things happen all the time in Neverland; some are wonderful, and some are utterly deadly…

With a heavy heart I am contemplating your lacerated frame. No one but myself, of all people, dared to come near the unraveled man lying still on the ground. So it is I who finally go ad crouch down by your side.

What can I possibly do? I had sewn potholders, traycloths and aprons. I had once even sewn a certain boy's shadow back on when it came adrift. But – alas!- my power of needlework doesn't stretch to this particular piece of mending…

"Are you dying, ?" I ask you in a cracked voice.

"I fear, lady, that I am… undone, yes…" you say as if tosomeone you see for the first time in your life. A stranger…

He doesn't hear you.

He doesn't see you.

He has completely forgotten you.

I shake my head to make silent the tiny wicked voices.

"Thank you for rescuing my animals" – there is now a touch of care in your voice.

Tears fill my eyes, as I look down at a shipwreck of a man that had been for many years at the forefront of my thoughts.

"It was a little bit our fault they got squashed", I answer hastily, just in order to avoid the murderous silence around us. Then I steal one more glance at your much-cherished Eton treasure - the goal of our quest, a treasure that had been the cause of so much tribultations All in vain, however. Once it had been discovered, it was evident Peter didn't need it at all – he never cared for grown-up possessions. But I do realize what value it has for you . How precious they are – these reminders of another life in another world. The real world.

Perhaps, it's now all you have got from outside of this Point of No Return.

So I stack those trophies and cups in a shining silver pyramid, where you can see them as you die.

"Some of these got rather bent, I'm afraid." I apologize.

"Their worth is not in their condition, madam". Your eyes rest on them with ineffable joy. " You know…I may still return them if ever I am invited back to address the School on Speech Day"

Oh, but I do know what does the old School, whose traditions still cling to you like garments, means for you.

So much, that even during your final moments you are speaking of it in a way a devoted son speaks of his mother.

I smile as I remember someone saying you were a great Etonian, but not a good one. In my humble opinion, on the contrary, you were a good Etonian, though perhaps not a great one.

"That would be a very interesting Speech Day, ," I say encouragingly.

"Hook! My name is Hook, madam. Captain James Hook"

Trying not to show how painful it is for me not to be recognized until now, I make a curtsey.

"Wendy Moira Angela Scott at your service, sir"

Something like a shadow of recognition passes over his face. There is a longing in your dimmed eyes, tinged with profound melancholy.

Can it really be that you are beginning to remember me now?

"Sleep is a great healer, you know? I am feeling uncomfortable. "You should sleep"

For a second your eyes flash bitter resentment. "Madam, I have not slept for twenty years. Not since the crocodile!"

May be I am quite foolish, but still…"I expect that's because you haven't had anyone to kiss you goodnight – not since the crocodile, anyway"

A shudder goes through your body. It writhes like an old fishing net caught in a rising tide.

Perhaps the events of that fateful night are now emerging from the backgrounds of your mind?

Your voice is weak, but there is no mistaking the strength of your feelings.

"Madam, I have never had anyone kiss me goodnight! Mine was not that breed of a mother In any case, it would be vulgar and namby-pamby and sentimental and…and not quite manly"

A faint smile appears on my wet face.

"But worth a try?" I nod and gently stroke your hand.

"But worth a try", you finally concede.

So I bent and one more time, after all these years, whisper the words I once uttered :

"One must never underestimate the power of a thimble…"

And then I give you the kiss. The kiss that had been waiting its turn for eternity. This kiss is filled with girlish dreams, and fears, and shuttered illusions, and bitter disappointment,- all those emotions that had been long ago shut in the most distant drawer of my heart – but also with more mature feminine feelings, - hope, and compassion, and love that never ends, as the Gospel says.

For a moment the Time stops in Neverland and the waters cease to flow.

Alas! Only for a moment!

I do love you, James Hook, and I always shall.

But the pas cannot be brought back.

I am not a girl any longer, and, therefore, no longer gay and innocent and heartless.

I am aware that far away from here, at home in London, my family is waiting patiently for their mother, wife and sister to come back.

I am sorry, my love . I cannot betray their trust in me. Even for your sake.

So I get up, still uncertain in regaining composure, and cover you carefully over with your old frock coat.

Your unforgettable pale forget-me-nots tinged with melancholy and longing give me a look of understanding before disappearing behind the dark long lashes.

"Goodnight, James", I say in my most motherly voice. "Sweet dreams".

Reluctantly I turn away to leave, knowing that Death would be along shortly to cradle you in gentle and forgiving arms.

Behind my back I suddenly hear a faint whisper which is, however, heard all over Neverland:

"Lord, remember me when you come into Your kindom"

And I am certain He will remember.

THE REST IS SILENCE ©