When the Swanson's door opened, Wendy stumbled forward, right into Edward. He knew why.
"Oh, Wendy," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. That was all, but that was enough. Wendy began to sob.
Her mother was dead. Her mother was dead. The words fitted roughly together, like puzzle pieces forced to fit. It wasn't possible.
And yet, her gray, grief-stricken family was proof enough that Mary Louise Darling had indeed died. Her father was stunned into silence, muttering "Mollie" over and over again as he wandered around the halls at night. Her brothers, for once, were no longer ashamed to burst into tears at intervals during the day. All except for Michael. He refused to cry. And the baby -
Edward gently pulled her into the house and led her to a chair, where Wendy collapsed, still making horrible, wailing sounds. A part of her that was detached from all the rest noted that she was making a fool of herself. Then the rest of her shunned that part for being so shallow, and then she was crying even harder.
"Edward?" A voice said. Wendy vaguely recognized it as Lorraine, the nurse. "What in the world -"
"Lorraine!" Edward murmured. He left Wendy's side for a moment, and she heard him whispering to Lorraine, obviously trying to keep her from hearing. He wasn't quiet enough. "That fire at the Houseman Lane Library last week killed Mrs. Darling from next door and blinded Michael." Wendy listened to her own tragedy, and was once again stunned by the horror of it. She went quiet.
"Oh," Lorraine breathed. "Oh, dear Lord, Mrs. Darling!" Wendy nodded unconsciously, crying silently now. "I'm going... I'll… oh, excuse me, Edward, I'm going to make tea." She heard the woman bustle out of the room. She heard Lorraine start weeping.
Edward sat down on a seat near Wendy's. He was quiet for a moment, then he said, "Wendy -"
The front door was suddenly flung open, and Edward's nine year old sister Harriet ran into the house. She stopped short when she saw Wendy. Then she reached into her pocket, and pulled out a brown bag.
"Wendy," she said hesitantly. "We - we were making chocolate in school today, and I made a piece for you." She placed the bag on Wendy's lap. "Happy seventeenth birthday."
Wendy, despite her sorrow, found herself managing a tiny smile. She nodded at Harriet, still unable to speak. Harriet smiled back and softly left the room.
Wendy pulled out the chocolate. It was a piece shaped like a star, with little white chocolate squiggles covering it. Inside, it was filled with mint and strawberry and several other flavors which Wendy couldn't identify. But it was delicious.
"Mother loves chocolate," Wendy said softly. She realized a second later that she should be using past tense. The thought burned her eyes.
"Wendy, I'm so sorry," Edward said.
"Why are you sorry?" Wendy asked. "You didn't… I mean…. it's not your fault she's gone." The police suspected the blame went to a few street urchins who were trying to stay warm. Even though it was tempting, she kept herself from blaming them. Her mother wouldn't.
"She was a wonderful person," Edward said. Wendy nodded, watching him. Her heart was, like the library, was burning. It seemed like a dream that just a week ago, Edward and her were innocently in love. She fully knew that Edward intended on marrying her, and she fully knew she would say yes.
Except… now, she wasn't sure she could. She had to take care of her father, who was too shell-shocked from her mother's death to even remember to eat. She had to help stunned, blind Michael, who now refused to speak to anyone but Wendy.
And then, there was the baby, born just a month before her mother died. Wendy's little sister, Jane Sara Christine Darling. Mr. Darling didn't even want to look at the baby. His wife had died making sure Jane survived, and therefore, he had nearly thrown the child out of the house. Wendy, and the human nurse, Geneva, had quickly calmed him down, but they now were very careful to keep Jane away from him.
Jane was Wendy's responsibility now, and Wendy knew it. She would take care of her like she was Jane's mother.
The only thing is, Wendy now felt like a grown-up.
Wendy glanced at Edward again, and saw him watching her with heartfelt concern. She almost started crying again, and almost became angry at her mother. How could she have left Wendy to deal with this?
Once again, Wendy found herself longing to be thirteen again, longing to escape to somewhere where time froze, and words said became undone.
She wanted Neverland.
Or, more specifically, the Never boy.
Where was Peter?