Chapter 2
Waiting
Nighttime fell into the sky. The calming, cool air swept across the empty streets. The city of London was now illuminated by a radiant glow, blocking most of the stars to appear in the sky. An almost full moon rested heavenly onto the dark and gentle night. Just another peaceful and undisturbed night here in London.
Wendy sat by the window on her rocking chair, sewing an unfinished blanket she planned to give to her son's youngest child. Nana Two lay quietly in front of the burning fireplace. Once in a while, Nana Two would glance up at Wendy, as if on high alert on protecting her owner.
In spite of her work in sewing, Wendy's mind was not entirely on her blanket. A few hours ago, she was approached by Jane, whose eyes were filled with grief and her head down desolately. Worried, Wendy escorted Jane to the living room, where they sat down and talked.
Jane told Wendy that she has just come back from the park to pick up Margaret. When she got there, she saw, to her shock, her own daughter, playfully hurting the boys who were chasing her around the park. Annoyed at what Margaret was doing, Jane stopped Margaret and ordered her to apologize. What Jane didn't expect was that one of the boys said the most horrible words to Margaret and meant it with all his fury. Jane could see it broke Margaret's heart and, after bringing her home, Margaret went straight to her room without a word. Jane could swear she heard Margaret crying in her room from downstairs.
After telling Wendy what happened, Jane's face became even more depressed, bowing her head even lower, mumbling of how she could have fixed this problem. Wendy studied Jane with a sympathy and cheerless frown until she gathered Jane into her arms in comfort, assuring her that there was nothing Jane could have done.
Ever since then, Wendy was very troubled on Margaret. Her problems seemed more disturbing than what Wendy or Jane went through when they were young. Wendy was distressed of having to grow up, when she wanted to remain a child. Jane wanted to grow up, but couldn't abandon her childlike playfulness and beliefs. But for Margaret, she appeared to be stuck in the middle. She still has her childlike happiness and delight. However, she looked as if peer pressure is causing her to believe that growing up will make her better. This was something Wendy or Jane had never gone through before, which made Wendy very worried.
Wendy stopped her sewing when she heard the downstairs telephone ringing. Before she even attempted to arise from her chair, Jane hurried into the foyer and answered the telephone herself. It turned out it was for her, given that Jane kept talking into it. Not wanting to eavesdrop, Wendy went back to her sewing.
Soon, Jane said her goodbyes and hung up. She slowly walked up to Wendy quietly. When Wendy looked up, she was slightly surprised at Jane sudden appearance right in front of her, but she quickly recovered. She looked again at Jane to see a hesitant expression in her face. Jane was staring softly at Wendy as if wanting to speak, but her mouth never opened, though it was somewhat uneven. After one look at Jane, Wendy knew exactly what was on her mind.
"When?" Wendy asked, breaking the stilled silent.
Jane's head bend down. "Tomorrow."
"So soon?" Wendy gasped, greatly surprised.
Jane nodded. Again, silence overtook them as they remain still in thought.
Then Jane walked closer and gently took Wendy's hand into her own. "I'm sorry mum. I didn't know it would be this early either."
Wendy nodded acknowledgeable. "It's all right Jane. I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?" Jane asked uncertain.
"Of course I am, dear. And I have Nana Two here to take care of me."
Nana Two, who was watching the two women with her raised heard, nodded in agreement.
"Jane," Wendy said after a quiet pause. "Have you told Margaret yet?"
Jane's eyes suddenly became filled with guilt, already answering Wendy's question. "I just couldn't tell her, mum. She'll be so devastated."
"But she will be even more devastated when she is told at the last minute," Wendy reminded her. Jane silently groaned and nodded in agreement. Wendy reached her elderly hand up to cup Jane's cheek soothingly.
"Jane, she needs to know. You can't hide this any longer. It's time for you to tell her, before it's too late."
Jane stared at Wendy for a long time before she nodded and walked painfully slow to the stairs. She paused for a moment, as if rethinking the plan. But after looking back at Wendy, who nodded at her to go on, Jane continued on with more confidence. Wendy sighed to herself before returning to her rocking chair, hoping for this to end well.
******************
Once she arrived at the door of Margaret's room, Jane halted, staring at the door. She desperately didn't want to be the one to tell Margaret of this, especially after the incident earlier at the park. But she knew that her mum was right: Margaret needs to know.
She slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open. She peeked inside to see Margaret, in her nightdress, sitting very still on the window seat. The window was opened and the curtain flowed peacefully into the room from the outside wind. Jane could see Margaret's. Little was sitting opposite from Margaret, gazing at her with concern and patience. Jane also saw Margaret holding her Peter Pan doll, looking intently at it, like it was the only thing, in this world, so beautiful to look at. Margaret finally looked away from the doll, but only to watch the sky, where the second star to the right stood shiningly high in the sky. After a minute, Margaret would look back at the doll and, after another minute, she looked up at that same star. She did this repeatedly, as her hair weakly flew from the night-air breeze, causing Jane to wonder what she was expecting. But Jane knew that, from studying Margaret's face, she was in a deep thought.
Jane quietly walked in, watching Margaret closely. She didn't want to disturb Margaret. But she knew she must.
"Margaret," she called softly.
Margaret made no move to have heard her mum, for she remained still, looking intensely at her doll.
Jane placed her hand on Margaret's shoulder. "Margaret," she said again.
This time, Margaret looked up at her mum, slightly surprised for one second to see her mother in front of her, proving that she didn't hear her enter.
"Are you all right?" Jane asked her. Margaret nodded, but Jane could see that she was still hurt from earlier. And she knew that Margaret was too stubborn to admit it. Like mother, like daughter, Jane always thought to herself.
Jane took a breath. "Margaret, there's something I need to tell you." She lifted Little into her arms and sat down on where Little use to occupy next to Margaret.
"What is it, mum," Margaret asked, slightly curiously. Her mind was still elsewhere.
Jane paused hesitantly for a moment before she took a deep breath, to gain more courage, and spoke.
"Margaret . . . we're . . ." She sighed in annoyance. She decided to just get straight to the point, assuming it would be easier for her. She kindly took Margaret's hand. "Sweetie . . . we're leaving tomorrow."
"Where?" Margaret asked, finally paying close attention.
"To America," Jane uttered out in one breath. She waited for Margaret's response. She had a strange and puzzled look.
"America? Why would we be going to America? What's the special occasion?"
Jane's face fell, for she knew Margaret asked because she thought they were going to America on a vacation instead. This will be even harder for her.
Jane grabbed both Margaret's hands and squeezed them. "There is no occasion."
Margaret scrunched her eyebrows in more confusion. Jane sighed heavily as she gripped even tighter and tried again. "Margaret . . . we're moving to America . . . Tomorrow afternoon."
Margaret froze, taking all of her mum's words to sink in. Little's head popped up in shock, staring at Jane and Margaret. Jane waited patiently, somehow knowing what's to come.
"What?" Margaret finally said, her voice barley a whisper. Her eyes showed mirrors of despair and her lips trembled. "What do you mean, 'we're moving to America'?"
"I'm sorry," Jane said sincerely. "I should have told you earlier. We're going to live in America tomorrow. We can start our own life there. It would be good for us."
"But what about grandmum?" Margaret demanded, standing up with tight fisted hands by each side. Jane could see Margaret was growing stubbornly angry, again. "We can't just leave her!"
"I've already discuss this with your grandmum. She agrees that it would help."
"But who will take care of her? Who will watch her?"
"She has Nana Two to take care of her, Margaret."
Margaret was breathing hard. Her eyes were watery, causing her to blink faster to stop them. She opened her uneven mouth, but closed it and turned away, her arms around herself as if trying to comfort herself.
Jane wasn't sure what to do next. Yes, she expected yelling. But Margaret's silence made her very nervous. Jane gently moved still shocked Little off of her lap and stood up.
"Margaret," she said, resting her hand on Margaret's shoulder. But Margaret shook it off, glaring hard at her mum. Jane could see anger and fortitude in her teary eyes that still was prevented from escaping her eyelids. Jane saw so many emotions in her daughter that she took a step back.
"I'm not going," Margaret said in a low, commanding voice, as if it was her final word.
"I'm sorry Margaret. But we are leaving for America, whether you like it or not."
"I'm not going!" Margaret repeated, raising her voice. Little let out a whimper, covering her eyes from trouble.
"Margaret, you are! You cannot stay here in London; you are unhappy here!"
"You're just saying that because of what happened at the park! It won't happen again!"
"But what if it will?" Jane asked her, her voice rising just as well. "Margaret, I am only concerned about you! You don't have any friends!"
"I have Little!" Margaret argued, directing her head at Little, who peaked one eye out for two second before covering again, sensing that trouble hasn't ended.
"Little does not count; she is just a dog-"
"A puppy!" Margaret corrected. "And it does count! To me!"
"Margaret!" Jane called, struggling to control her voice from shouting in rage. "America has so many good children there; you can make friends with them!"
"I can't!" Margaret shouted, her voice slightly cracking. "I can't make friends! I'm a baby! They're right, mum! They're all right! I can't make friends, I can't grow up, but I can't stay a child! I'm nothing!"
"Margaret!" Jane, at last, raised her voice, losing control. "You are not a baby and you are certainly not nothing; don't you ever listen to them! This whole problem is part of growing up! You can grow up better in Ameri-"
"I'm Not Going To America!"Margaret screamed, a tear, at last, escaped her eye and fell down slowly her cheek. "I'm Not Leaving London! I'm Not Leaving Grandmum And I'm Not . . . Leaving . . . Him!!!"
Him? Who could Margaret be talking about?
"Margaret-"
"I'm not going, mum! I'm staying right here!" Margaret finished, turning her back against her mum and crossing her arm obstinately.
Jane opened her mouth to snap back at her. But she stopped herself when Margaret's last words rang into her head.
'I'm not going, mum! I'm staying right here!
To her revelation, Jane remembered those exact words she herself had said to her mum, long when she was young.
It was the night before she was kidnapped by Captain Hook and his pirates, taking her to Neverland, mistaking her as her mum. Her mum came in to her room and calmly told Jane that tomorrow, she and Danny will have to go to the countryside to avoid the raids from the war her family had to face each frightening night. Jane remembered that she was very upset at this news and refuse to leave, recalling her promise to take care of her family to her father before he left to fight in the war.
Jane stared at Margaret. She suddenly saw herself in Margaret's place. And that peculiarly scared Jane greatly. She never even once thought that the same action Jane showed to her mum would repeat itself through her own daughter. It shook Jane to remember how her fight with her mum ended up (it didn't end well) and imagined how this fight could end the same way: a mother frustrated and angry, leaving behind her upset and furious, but wretched daughter alone in her room. And Jane never wanted that to happen to her in her life. Perhaps planning to move to America was a bad idea.
Without knowing what else to do, Jane wordlessly walked out of Margaret's room, her own eyes moist. To her surprise, Jane met her mum waiting in the hall, Nana Two by her side.
"How long have you been listening," Jane asked, trying to calm herself down.
"Long enough," her mum answered softly.
Brilliant, Jane groaned. She heard the whole thing. She shook her head, tears dangerously threatening to escape. Before she knew it, Jane was pulled into her mum's warm embrace and held her firmly. Jane wrapped her arms around Wendy as she wept in her mum's arms. Nana Two gently rubbed her head to Jane in affection and comfort.
Wendy and Jane held each other in silence. It was only a minute later when Jane, now finished with her crying and was slowly calming herself, spoke.
"That wasn't where I wanted to go," Jane mumbled, her voice heavy and weak from weeping.
Wendy stood back and, with her withered finger, raised Jane's chin so that their eyes were staring at each other. Jane could almost see her mum's loving and distress look through her eyes, practically blind with dried tears.
"You should get some rest," Wendy quietly said to Jane. "I'll go talk to her."
Jane nodded and pulled from her mother's embrace, making her way to her room. Nana Two followed Jane down the hall, leaving Wendy alone in front of Margaret's bedroom.
******************
Wendy entered her old nursery room to see Margaret, crying on the window seat. Little rubbed her head to Margaret and licked her hand in an attempt to comfort her. However, Margaret showed no sign of noticing Little at all; she just continued to cry and cry. Wendy noticed that her Peter Pan doll was alone on the floor and Margaret's hand was directed to the doll but did not reach it. Little jumped from the window seat and pushed the doll to her, but Margaret's hand hung limply and lifeless against the doll. This sight broke Wendy's heart.
She walked up to Margaret, who showed no sign of hearing her enter. Little looked up to Wendy in her small and miserable eyes. Wendy gave Little a weak smile and a soft pat on Little's head, giving her as much comfort as Wendy could offer.
Wendy turned to her sobbing granddaughter and lay her gentle hand on Margaret's trembling back. Margaret stiffened under Wendy's touch and fell silent. Wendy could hear Margaret's quiet sniffles.
"Margaret," Wendy softly spoke to her. Margaret was immobile for a moment until she rose and wiped her tears from her eyes before facing Wendy. Her eyes were puffy red and her tear stain, on her cheeks, was still visible, even after rubbing them away.
Wendy stared at Margaret's sky blue and stroked her long, brown hair. Both eyes and hair were exactly the same color as Wendy's and Jane's (Margaret's nightdress was also the same style as was theirs, but in a different color), and Wendy was surprised but pleased to see both herself and Jane inside Margaret. However alike she is to her family, Margaret was genuinely different and she was always proud of that. Until problems like the park one came up.
Wendy wordlessly picked up the Peter Pan doll (she still remembered the day she made this for Jane as if it were yesterday) and handed it to Margaret, who silently accepted it and stared deeply at it.
"Your mother never meant to tell you at the last second," Wendy finally said. "She only wants what's best for you because she loves you very much." Margaret didn't respond. Wendy returned to caressing Margaret's hair soothingly. She sat in front of Margaret and felt Little climbing on her lap.
"I know," Margaret spoke at last, her voice quiet and vulnerable from crying. She was still staring at her Peter Pan doll. "But she doesn't understand."
"What doesn't she understand," Wendy asked her.
Margaret paused hesitantly. "We shouldn't leave you here all alone, grandmum. You need us more than we need you."
Wendy knew fully well that this was not true, but did not voice it. Instead, she laid her finger under Margaret's chin and slowly lifted her face. Her eyes were still glassy.
"That's not the only reason why, is there?" Wendy looked straight into Margaret's young and sorrowful eyes, as if seeing her deepest soul.
Margaret sighed and looked away. Her eyes were lifted to the sky, where you could clearly see the second star to the right. Wendy placed her hand on Little, both waiting for her answer.
"I've dreamed of him every single night," Margaret said so quietly, it was a wonder Wendy had heard her. "He would always appear on this window . . . he would hold out his hand to me . . . and spoke to me . . . whispered, 'Come away with me to Neverland . . . Fly away from this place and come to where no one . . . will care . . . of whom you are." She added in a very subtle whisper. She turned to Wendy. "That's why this window's always opened. That's why I can't leave here. He's going to come back. I know he will; I can feel it."
"Who will come," Wendy asked, though she already knew the answer instantly.
Margaret looked down at her doll on her lap. "Peter Pan." She paused before she looked back at Wendy with determination in her eyes. "He's coming, grandmum! He is coming!"
Wendy said nothing as she stared softly at Margaret. She could see so much faith on Peter Pan's return in Margaret and the stubbornness of her refusal to think otherwise. Looking at her, Wendy wondered if Peter Pan will ever come back for her. After all, Margaret has come to the same age as Wendy and Jane when they first met Peter Pan.
Margaret's face fell in reluctant. "Do you think he'll come? It was all a dream anyway," she added, almost defeated.
"Of course he will," Wendy said with no hesitation, her voice filled with faith, just as it once was long ago. "He'll come to this very room and take you to Neverland with him. And no," Wendy added when Margaret opened her mouth to protest. "I'm not saying that to make you feel better. I'm saying that because it's the truth."
"I just want to be here when he comes," Margaret sighed, dropping her eyes back to her doll. "I can't be in America when he does come." She looked up with more willpower than Wendy has ever seen before. "I'm staying here, grandmum. I'm not leaving."
Wendy couldn't help but smiled at her. Margaret stared so hard at Wendy as if preparing to attack anyone who would disagree with her.
Wendy placed a reassuring hand on Margaret's shoulder. "Maybe he'll come tonight."
Margaret shook her head. "That's what I've been telling myself each night. He hasn't shown up on those nights, so what makes you think he'll come this time?"
"I don't,' Wendy admitted. "But if I know him, he'll come soon. Just give him tonight." Wendy gripped her weak hands on Margaret's shoulders. "Don't lose hope on him, Margaret, just because he hasn't shown up yet. If you really believe he will come, then he will come. Just be patient on him."
Margaret nodded, her eyelids unexpectedly sinking low. She raised her hand and covered her mouth to yawn. Wendy noticed this and realized how late it must be.
"Come, Margaret. It's getting late. You should go to bed."
"I'll sleep here," Margaret said sleepily, gesturing the window seat.
"Don't. It's warmer in bed. Come along." Wendy rose up (Little popped off from Wendy's lap) and pulled Margaret up. Too tired to resist or argue, Margaret allowed Wendy to pull her to her bed, holding her Peter Pan doll tight in her hand. She settled in her bed and instantly fell asleep.
Wendy watched her young granddaughter, sleeping so deeply and peaceful, before walking back to the window. Her eyes caught the same second star to the right and remembered vividly of her own adventure with Peter Pan and her two brothers.
Although it happened so long ago, she remembered everything exactly. Her storytelling to her brothers, her flight over the entire city of London, her adventures in Neverland, and her return to her true home. Even the part when she first met Peter Pan. Looking back, she laughed at how ridicules she once was, chattering so much that Peter Pan gave her a very weird look. What a way to make a great, first impression to hero of her stories.
And he was right: she did talk too much. But she was young back then and girls her age always chattered like grasshoppers. Perhaps she could have talked a bit lesser then. That way, she would save the trouble of embarrassing herself.
The last memory of him was when Jane was young and it happened around World War II. Peter Pan, and his fairy Tinker Bell, were floating outside of this very window. Wendy was filled with joy when she saw him again after all these years. But she was a little disappointed because she grew up and could not go with Peter Pan as she did once. He was also disappointed at seeing Wendy grown up. But when he could see how much faith on him she still had, he accepted this. That was the last time Wendy has ever seen him.
Her mind was filled with so many memories of Peter Pan that she began to sing a lullaby she made up for Margaret when she was very young:
"The Second Star to the Right
Shines in the Night for You
To Tell You that the Dreams You Plan
Really Can Come True."
She slowly closed the window, making sure to leave it unlocked. Her eyes never left that star in the clear night sky.
"The Second Star to the Right
Shines with the Light that's Rare
And if it's Neverland You Need
Its Light Will Lead You There."
She looked back at her old nursery room that has become one of the most precious places in her life. She saw Little tiredly walking to her basket next to the toy trunk and snuggled under the blankets; falling asleep.
Wendy walked up to Margaret and gently pulled the covers over her.
"Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star
So I'll Know Where You Are."
She sat next to her granddaughter, admiring her sleeping feature, and stroke Margaret's hair and the side of her face with the back of her fingers.
"Gleaming in the Skies Above
Lead Me to the Land I've Dreamed Of."
Wendy felt her eyes dropping drowsily as she stood and made her way to her chair in the corner of the room. She picked up her cross-stitching from the top of the chair and sat down. She studied her unfinished work, which was an image of a flying Peter Pan and a small, glowing ball as Tinker Bell. She traced the image of Peter Pan with her finger, still deep in thought of her past with him.
"And When the Journey is Through
Each Time We Say Goodnight,"
Wendy lay her cross-stitching on her lap as she looked back at the window, as if waiting for him. Her eyes were dipping harder and she softly yawned.
"We'll Thank the Little Star That Shines
Second from the Right."
With those last, soothing, singing words, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep, unaware of what is to come on this very night.