CHAPTER FOUR: MORNING AFTER
Not on any other morning in the entire time Moira had been alive had she ever wanted this desperately to never wake up. She didn't want to face the questions and uncertainty that were awaiting her in the waking world, questions she not only wanted to ask herself but what were probably going to be aimed at her. As if she knew anything about what happened last night.
Shifting to get into a better position and trying to prolong sleep, Moira found that she was stuck with her back against the wall and something warm pressed against the front of her abdomen. Moira quietly groaned, 'This is what I get for being a 'nice' big sister. Why can't I just be mean and say no?'
Curled up on her side with her golden head pressed against Moira's body was Angie, her companion Muffy had somehow wedged itself between the thin pillow and the headboard. Jacob lay on his back at the edge of the bed, his mouth open with even breathes escaping him. She noticed his cricket bat was loosely clutched in his hands.
She was at a complete loss at what to do. Not that the feeling was unfamiliar to her at this point given the events last night.
Moira had awoken sitting stiff straight up in bed, her body reacting to the blood-curdling scream before her collective conscious had fully awoken. She heard Angie whimper from across the room, her large eyes tearing up and darting in uncertainty. Not having time to think, Moira threw her covers off and ran for the door, ignoring Angie's pitiful cry not to leave her alone.
Moira made it as far as the staircase before stopping, grasping the rail and contemplating what her next course of action would be. Should she yell out to see if everything was alright or go downstairs to find out herself? Survival instincts took over when not only did her mother's screaming persist but Jacob chose that moment to burst from his room like a madman wielding a bat at her direction. She almost tumbled down the stairs in her effort to scramble away from him.
He passed by her halfway down and made it to the second floor, rushing to their parent's room. Gram's door was open, and from what she could tell she wasn't inside. She'd most likely already gone to the screaming. Moira however couldn't even make her feet move, her legs having found themselves struck by rigor mortis. Her hands clenched the stair banister so hard that they'd turned white.
Thumping up the stairs came an out-of-breathe Tootles, pausing to look up at Moira who had yet off the steps and onto the floor. "What's going on?" His voice was high and cracked near the end. Moira could only look down the hallway and into the room where she could now hear sobbing. Tootles gave up on the girl and rushed down the hallway, "Jane?" He called out as he disappeared into her parent's room.
A loud crash downstairs startled Moira enough for her to jump to the floor, edging down the hallway. Was someone else downstairs? Her eyes widened when her father rounded the corner, sporting a kitchen knife in his hands
"Daddy, what—why are you—what's going on?" Moira sputtered, her eyes begin to rim with tears.
But her father rushed past her, not bothering to stop, and she found herself following him. He moved like a man possessed, throwing himself into the room so fast she didn't know how he didn't stumble before disappearing inside. Standing outside the door frame, Moira slowly grasped it and peered over the side, anticipating what she might find.
Her mother was crumpled on the ground by the foot of the bed, unintelligible words spilling from her as she tried to speak through her sobs. Gram had wrapped her arms around her mother, whispering to her and trying to get her to calm down. Tootles was kneeling on the ground as well, but kept his distance, merely trying to show Jane that he was there. Her father was bent over in front of her mother, frantically asking what was wrong.
Jacob was slumped against the window sill, his cricket bat abandoned on the floor in front of him. He had a vacant look about him, not quite sure what to make of his mother in this state. None of them had ever seen their mother cry before.
"He came back…he-he came to k-kill me." Jane whimpered to Gram who only clutched her daughter tighter.
Jack attempted to insert himself between the two, grabbing Jane's shoulders, imploring her to tell him who was trying to kill her. Jane stopped speaking, stopped moving all together to look at her husband. For a moment she held no recognition in her eyes, like she had no idea where she was. Then she looked past him and her struggles began anew.
"Shut the window!" She shrieked, pulling out of her family's arms and rushing in Jacob's direction. If his mother had not grabbed him to her he may have shrunk away from her in fear. Jane held him to her tightly in one arm while using the other to slam the window shut, almost cracking it in the process with how much force she used. "He won't get them. He can't take my babies!"She had only just secured the latch when she doubled over in pain.
Jack caught her and his son before they slumped too far down. He managed to wrestle Jacob from his mother and hand him off to Tootles, before turning his attentions to his wife. Her eyes clenched shut with pain and her face had lost most of its color. She groaned and clutched her stomach, her breathe suddenly escaping her in frantic pants. "Jane?"
He mimicked her as she dropped to her knees, taking her face into his large hands. "Jane, what's wrong? Baby, what can I do? Tell me what you need me to do." A sheen of sweat now covered her face and she looked on the verge of fainting. Jane suddenly cried out again, her whole body lurching as a wave of pain took hold of her. Thinking she was going to be sick, Jack clutched her side instead, giving her room in front of her if she needed to throw up. Instead Jane desperately reached between her legs, only to retract them quickly when her fingers became wet.
No sooner did Jack see the blood did Jane find herself in his arms and being carried out the room. "I'm taking her to the hospital. Wendy, get her a blanket for the car!"
Tootles grabbed all the doors and helped load Jane into their beaten up station wagon. Wendy emerged a moment later in her dressing gown and a fresh blanket announcing she was coming with them. Tootles heard tapping from the car's passenger window, and saw Jane yelling out to him. "Keep the children safe, please! Bolt all the windows and don't let them out of your site."
Tootles just nodded, not sure what else to do.
Jane then got eerily calm, drawing Tootles to her so his cheek mirrored hers against the glass. "You know the stories, Tootles. He won't stop until he gets what he wants. Please protect the children, don't let him take them."She implored each word carefully, wanting him to understand something she obviously thought he shared with her. Meeting her eyes he saw recognition and fear, and something else he'd seen before. He asked, "Who, Jane?"
He saw her face crumple at his failure to grasp what she meant, tears slipping down her cheeks as the car pulled away, disappearing down the street. Tootles was left alone
After a few minutes Tootles returned back to the house. He ushered the children, who had made their way outside on the stoop, back inside. After literally prying Angie off the bottom stair banister he led them back upstairs, rubbing circles into Angie's back and telling her that everything would be okay.
Moira told herself she let Angie get into bed with her after she'd gotten tired of the smaller girl standing by the edge of her bed for half an hour, with a beseeching look on her face. How and when Jacob found his way in was beyond Moira's knowledge and care. After everything that had happened yesterday: the break in, Jacob's window suspicions, her mother's break down…she was tired and angry. Whoever broke in may not have stolen their possessions, but they took something equally as valuable. They took their sense of security and their mother's sanity.
As Moira closed her eyes in a push to get more sleep, all she could think was if she ever caught who had done this to her family they would wish they'd never set eyes on this house. She would make them regret it.
Jack carefully pulled the covers over his sleeping wife, the medication giving her body the rest it was robbed of the night before. He had to re-tuck her in after she slowly rolled onto her side with a moan. He smoothed some of her hair from her forehead before giving it a soft kiss and went to close the curtains. After last night he wanted to make sure a window was not the first thing she woke up to, lest it trigger another panic attack and cause more harm to mother and child.
Jane was pregnant, there was no denying it. A few weeks back she'd come to him in tears saying she was late and that all the early signs were presenting themselves. After three children she knew them by heart. She'd hated herself for her reaction but he assured her that it only meant she cared so much about their family. They were going to go to a doctor after the holidays to confirm it but last night put a rush on that.
Thankfully Jane had not lost the baby. The doctor explained that women carried more blood when they were pregnant and sometimes stress triggered unhealthy consequences. This was Jane's body's way of telling her she needed to take down the stress level. Jack asked if it explained her explosive panic attack and the doctor told them it was likely due to changing hormones. "But if I may suggest something," the doctor took Jack aside after asking if Jane had a history of mental illness. "Something triggered this attack, whether it was the home invasion you mentioned earlier or her mind still trying to work through the fact that there will be another mouth to feed soon."
"What can I do to help? Should she cut back on housework, I mean she already works five days a week—"Jack began to ask was interrupted.
"You said she was a secretary at the car factory?" When Jack nodded he continued, "I don't think she needs to leave just yet, but keep an eye on it. If it starts to become something more than she can handle it might be best that she leave earlier. Maybe think about leaving the workforce all together."
Something irked Jack the way the doctor implied that Jane was not strong enough to work and take care of the family at the same time. Wasn't that point of all of them living in that house together, to save money and build a support network? Spotting the doctor's wedding ring he had a mind to inquire about his wife's work ethic but figured she didn't need to work with a doctor bringing home the bacon. "Well, if there's anything else than I'm going to take my wife home."
"Just one more thing Mr. Woodham, you asked if there was anything you could do for her now?" Jack nodded. "Then I suggest a change of scenery. You're wife's lost her sense of safety right now, maybe it would be best to take her on a small holiday. Get the family away for Christmas; after all it might be the last time she can get away until the baby arrives. Just until this whole this whole thing blows over."
That may have been the best advice the doctor had given. Jack said he would look into it and went to collect his wife and mother-in-law.
When they had arrived home from the hospital Tootles was sleeping upright on the couch, as if he had waited for them to return. It was 9am but everyone left in the house was still asleep. After carrying his wife upstairs, they woke Tootles and told him everything but said they would tell the children about the baby at Christmas.
The first call Jack made was to his wife's work saying she wouldn't be in because of health issues. The second call he made was to his eldest brother Mark, asking if he'd put up him and his family for a Christmas visit. While he got on with his brother Samuel, Mark's farm offered solitude and silence, with a humble wife to work it and a strong son who was almost grown enough to take it over. He could think of no better place for Jane to relax and get away from what happened. A fresh breathe of country air was what they all needed.
Speaking of which, he supposed he should check on his own children, and after thanking Mark for taking them on such short notice he went to the children's room on top floor.
Finding all of his children in the same bed both made him want to smile and weep. The way they clung to each other like lifelines was both a beautiful reminder of their love and fear. Jacob still clinging to the bat made him both proud of him protecting his sisters but mindful that he still didn't feel safe in his own house.
"Like kittens in a basket," remarked a voice behind him. Jack turned to see a very tired Wendy taking in the scene with him.
Jack looked at his children crammed on the small bed, "More like sardines in a can."
Wendy rolled her exhausted eyes and took Jack by the shoulders, leading back downstairs. "I can tell you about sardines in a can. Believe me you'll need four more bodies to even visualize what sleeping arrangement I've seen some children get into in one space." Jack tried to stifle a yawn as he listened to what he presumed were living conditions Wendy had seen some of the orphans she worked with come from. "I think its best you get some rest, let's follow the children's leads and try to get some sleep."
Jack could only nod, the full effect of being up all night finally catching up with him. Getting to his door he finally mumbled, "See you after a few winks. G'night." He paused and then shrugged, "Or good morning."
Nana III large sad eyes had never looked so exhausted. She lay pathetically on the ground facing her dog house, the snow having melted some so she wasn't as wet or cold as she could have been. She whined lazily, reveling in the unfairness that she would be denied access to the one shelter she could call her own.
When she attempted to approach it last night after her owners left the house, something shifted inside. Nana could see nothing, but she felt a presence inside she couldn't explain. Whenever she was in view of coming closer she felt a vibration coming from the shadowy depths of her small house. It practically shook its way an inch to the right the last time she got too close. Not sensing anything threatening from it yet, Nana just resolved to wait outside for it to come out.
Her smallest pup came out with a bowl of treats earlier, putting in front of her and petting her head. "Why don't you go inside your house, Nana? It's much warmer in there."
Nana merely dug into her bowl, not up for explaining to her pup that her second bedroom was currently occupied. Before she could stop her, the pup had approached the house to peer inside. "Hello?" The house jumped and her pup flew backwards, hiding behind her great furry body. After a few minutes she followed her pup inside, hearing her littlest tell her biggest that there was a ghost in the doghouse.
Moira's eyes showed a hint of red as she went over what Angie had just told her. "A singing firefly in our room and now a ghost in the doghouse. How are you ever bored?" It was more statement then question, and quite condescending in her monotone voice. Angie could only stare helplessly as her sister turned back to her magazine, turning the page nonchalantly.
Clinkering of silverware was the only thing that could be heard at the dinner table that evening. The Miller family's chicken breast and potatoes were on the menu that night; they were slowly working through the plates left for them by their neighbors.
No one so much as spoke or looked at one another; an appropriate topic remained in the winds since Jane made had insisted she was well enough to come downstairs and eat. When Jack had tried to bring a tray upstairs she almost slapped it out of his hands saying that it was not Mother's Day nor her birthday, so she was in no way obliged to eat in bed.
It made everyone, especially the children, at a loss on what to say or talk about. The image of their mother so terrified that she had to be hospitalized kept them on edge, wondering what would set her off next. Moira glanced at her mother who was seated to her immediate right.
If Jane was aware that her daughter kept stealing shy glances at her she did not make it known. Moira had never seen an adult so helpless before and she was at a loss at what to do. Was she supposed to make a 'Get Well' card and get everyone to sign it? After nearly twenty minutes of silence Moira felt like she would scream and decided that if no one wanted to talk than she would.
"I've got to write an essay before school starts again." She said this a little too loudly, but figured that school was a safe enough topic. Nobody said anything for a moment and if everybody had not paused to look up she would have sworn that she'd imagined speaking up.
"What about?" Her father asked as he cut his meat.
"What we did over the Christmas break. Like what presents we got, if we went anywhere, if anything interesting happened—" Moira immediately stopped talking when she heard her father inhale sharply. Moira's eyes widened at the implication she just made. Quickly turning to her mother her voice betrayed her rising panic, "N-not that I would write about last night. I just meant that I would write about stuff that was interesting. Not that what happened wasn't interesting—" Oh my God, she could not shut up. She immediately moved to apologize again when her hand knocked her fork and spoon off her plate, the loud clattering of them hitting the floor making her mother jump.
Moira just wanted to sink into her chair and hide under the table. No matter what she ever did it never seemed to work, it only made things worse. She slowly bent to pick up her utensils and quietly put them back on the plate. Not making eye contact with anyone less they should see the tears that were threatening to fall, she mumbled to her mother that she was sorry.
Before she could ask if she could be excused, her mother took hold of her hands softly and squeezed. From the corner of her eye Moira could see no hatred or blame, just understanding.
Her father's cough brought them back to attention.
"Actually, Moira has brought up an excellent leader into the surprise we had for you children." Angie perked up at the notion of getting a surprise. "Want something to write about for your essay Moira? Well you can put in it that we will be spending the holidays with your uncle Mark on his farm. You'll get to be around all the animals, see your cousin Darrel again, sing carols, and this way we don't have to exchange presents by post."
"Who will take care of Nana?" Jacob asked.
"Mark says there's always room on the farm for another dog."
While her brother and sister started getting excited about the idea, something in the back of Moira's mind kept her from higher spirits. "Have you had this planned for a while?"
Jack may not have been the most domineering man, but he was not used to having his judgment questioned by his children. He raised an eyebrow at Moira, "I thought it would be a good time for all of us to get away. With all that's happened the last couple of days I think we could all use a little break. So pack a bag before you go to bed because we leave first thing in the morning."
While Angie asked if any new baby animals had been born and Jacob thought about the rifle his cousin always let him shoot, Moira could only think about the terminology her father had used for their need to go on vacation. Get away? She thought. More like run away.
They were told to pack clothes and shoes they wouldn't mind getting dirty, plus something nice to wear for church on Christmas. Everyone was trying to share a suitcase to save room in the car, which would already be packed with people and a large dog. Moira carried her clothes to Gram's room and knocked.
"Come, come. Let's see if this all fits." She ushered Moira in and began packing the two pairs of shoes and the few clothes she brought into the suitcase Gram had provided. While her grandmother started packing her own clothes in, Moira took the time to sit at the vanity mirror and try on some of the costume jewelry that had been laid out.
When Gram was done she came over and applied a thin layer of eye shadow and rouge to Moira's face while she in turn powdered her grandmother's nose. Ever since she was small Moira would play dress-up with Gram, usually with jewelry and lady dresses but eventually it grew to include crowns, pirate bandanna's, cowboy hats and feather headdresses.
"Do you think going away is a good idea?" Moira asked before she applied some lipstick.
Gram paused in fastening some dangly earrings onto Moira's ear lobe. "I think it will be good for your mother to get her mind off things for a bit. After last night she deserves a good rest."
"So you really think she saw something at the window?"
"Your mother believed she saw something," Gram now fastened a string of pearls around Moira's neck, "And whatever it was scared her so much that she was afraid it would hurt her and you children."
"I heard mom said 'he' came back to kill her. Who's 'he'?"
Gram sighed and pinned back a stray wave of hair out of Moira's face. "Fetch me my book."
Moira bee lined to the dresser next to Gram's bed, knowing exactly which book she was talking about. Peter and Wendy was Gram's bible, the way she studied the text and read the words like hymns filled her grandchildren with awe to this day. They lay back against the bed, Gram resting against the headboard and Moira resting her head on Gram's bosom as she opened the book. "I hate getting old," Gram said, dawning a pair of reading glasses.
Gram had been born in this house, raised with her two brothers only to raise her own family within it as well. Her neighbors often hosted a gentleman, who went by James Matthew Barrie, but to the children on the street he was called 'friend'. On late nights when the Darling children would sit by the open window and tell stories about a boy named Peter Pan, Mr. Barrie became intrigued. Listening to the incredible adventures these children would come up with inspired him to write them down and turn it into a book. He gave one of the earliest copies to the young girl who became his literary heroin, the same one she currently flipping through.
Apparently finding the page she was looking for, she marked it. "When was the last time I read to you from this?" Gram let out a sigh when Moira just shrugged. "Well, why don't you begin the story, on the night that Peter came for his shadow."
Moira snuggled into Gram's side and began telling the story she had been spoon fed since birth. Imagining Gram as a girl, asking a plucky boy why he was crying in her room made her laugh, "How did you not start screaming? If I found a stranger in my room I'd kick him right out, not ask what's wrong." She paused, taking into account what had happened to shape her point of view. "After what happened yesterday, any stranger who steps foot in here like they own the place will find themselves very sorry."
With a sense of pride Gram said, "I'm sure you would. Go on child." She motioned for her to continue on the story.
Moira continued on about Gram and her brothers learning to fly and heading toward the second star to right and straight on until morning. On she went about how a jealous fairy caused a whelp of a boy to shoot her, but then build her a house out of forgiveness and welcome. How Hook and Pan fought each other and rescued Tiger Lily, almost getting himself killed in the process and sending Wendy away to save her. "That's my favorite part of the story, it's so exciting. But wouldn't you have been scared, leaving Peter on the rock bleeding like that?"
"I wasn't given much of a choice. Peter would never allow a lady, much less anyone he cared about to be in such danger of drowning. Now what happens next?" Gram pressed on.
"The truce with the Indians…" Moira went on to describe the home underground feeling nice and cozy with the Indians keeping watch, and Wendy telling the story of her parents and convincing the lost boys to come home with her and her brothers. The pirates trickery of making the children think the Indians had won only to spirit them away to the ship, leaving Peter to poison himself. The belief of children saving Tink, and Peter sneaking aboard the ship for the epic battle. "Hook or me this time," Moira mimicked.
"And then what happened?" Gram asked.
"Peter brought the children home, and the lost boys decided to stay and grow up. And Peter said he would come back to get Wendy to do his spring cleaning, but he sometimes forgot and didn't come back again until Wendy had a daughter named Jane—"
"And that's where I'll cut you off," Gram's sudden interruption made Moira stutter for a moment before falling silent. Exhaling slowly, Gram began to tell her granddaughter the true ending of the story. Not because she wanted to, because she needed to. "This is not how it really happened you know. The lost boys didn't stay with us, but decided to go back when Peter dropped us at home."
Taken in by the sudden seriousness in Gram's tone, Moira found herself at a loss. "And yes while my daughter did have adventures with Peter, it was not because he brought her back for spring cleaning." Her old eyes became hooded, as if she struggled with a silent rage which she refused to allow out. "Hook got to her first."
Her siblings and she had heard this story before. Stolen from her room in the middle of the night by Hook to use as bait for Peter, Jane had been forced to outwit the pirate and save Peter and the boys. Moira had always recalled her mother's blunt hatred toward the pirate whenever a Pan story brought him up, but what other attitude would one have toward the treacherous pirate?
"Are you," Moira paused to try and find the least offensive wording, "Are you saying that Mum believes she was actually kidnapped by Captain Hook?"
Gram raised an eyebrow, "No, I'm saying she was kidnapped by Captain Hook." When Gram could see she was losing Moira she pulled the girl closer. "You love Peter Pan stories don't you? Remember them, learn from them?"
Moira nodded at all of this but had to make her grandmother understand something. These types of things weren't talked about for people her age. When she could see Gram didn't understand she gave an example. "It's like Father Christmas, or the boogeyman. We all grew up hearing about them and secretly you hope they're real even as you get older. But to come out and say that you full-on believe it, well, it makes the other kids think you're dense."
Gram stayed very quiet, looking Moira over and taking in everything she had just said. Moira hoped this had helped her understand that this was how the world worked now. When Gram spoke next it was so low Moira almost missed it. "The boogeyman is very real." She then flipped to the page she marked in her book and held it out for Moira to take. Gram turned the protective leaf page to reveal an illustration.
Countless times Moira had read from this book. Even before she learned to read the elaborate illustrations revealed all that her tiny self needed to understand the story. Maybe it was the low lighting of the room, or the jumpiness everyone was feeling from the events of last night, but when Moira gazed at the picture of James Hook glaring back at her she found herself fighting chills up her spine. The captain faced her in a fighting pose; one arm grasped his sword at this side and the other raised his hook menacingly in the air, ready to come down and tear into whoever approached. His face was looking down at her with hard eyes that held her gaze; a malicious smirk tugged the corner of his mouth, like he held a secret. It was a mean look, like the kind someone gives you when you knew they were about to come for you, their malicious intent burned onto their face. Moira found herself wondering if this is what her mother saw in her nightmares and what she thought was at the window last night.
Gram rubbed her shoulder, bringing Moira back to reality and realized she was shaking. Looking up at her grandmother, Moira held the appearance of a lost child who'd lost their foundation. Her eyes were wide and unsure, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.
Shutting the book and putting it on the nightstand, Gram knew she'd gotten through. "Yes girl. The boogeyman is very real indeed, and sails the Jolly Roger."
Moira burrowed herself into Gram's side, finding nothing but warmth and comfort, and a sense of safety one only got from being with a seasoned traveler in unknown territory. And though the sun had only just set and the hour was still early, Moira fell into a nice warm sleep in her grandmother's arms.
For second time in less than 24 hours, Moira had awoken to Angie staring at her. The little girl was leaning on her elbows, her angelic face resting on her hands. She giggled, "I heard you snoring."
Moira groaned and sat up, wiping some excess drool from her mouth. "We share a room, and you're telling me you've never heard me snore?"
Letting another laugh escape her, Angie said, "Never in Gram's bed."
"Where is Gram?" Moira had just now noticed that she was indeed alone on Gram's bed, having specifically remembered she fell asleep in her arms.
Stepping away from the bed, Angie began to sway as if dancing to a song only she could hear, "Went down for tea. Her and Mummy sent me to tell you to take a bath before bed," she began giggling uncontrollably now. When Moira asked why she replied, "Because your face looks silly with that runny makeup on. You needed a bath more than me."
Crossing to the vanity mirror to take off the jewelry, Moira noticed the damp texture of Angie's hair and the flush of her cheeks. Moira's cheeks were red with blush, but the lipstick had smeared and the eye liner had run from when she'd wiped the sleep out of her eyes. After removing the baubles, she made her way to their room to change into her robe and head toward the loo. The entire time Angie had not left her alone, tailing after her as if she'd pulled a Rip Van Winkle and needed to be caught up on everything that had happened during her half hour doze.
Angie had gone so far as to insist she be allowed in the bathroom with her while she took to the tub. Moira thought about saying no, about making her go away, but thinking about how snappy she'd been to her sister lately made her change her mind. In truth Moira had only stopped sharing baths with her siblings in the last year. Certain things were just beginning to change.
There is a point in every young girl's life when they each discover that something new is beginning. People give you more attention, especially boys whom used to push you down on the playground and say you were gross. She used to have fun with her brother and sister, but lately found herself agitated with them. She used to read her magazines for stories and coupons, but now she spent hours staring at models like Twiggy and wondering why she herself didn't look like that.
Things were simpler last year, before she began seeing the world differently. Not only were more of the horrid side of things more prominent to her but the world began to reveal itself as being very unfair. Finding that not everyone was as indulgent as her family was on fairy stories, Moira had begun keeping that side of her life to herself, though it often resulted in her just plain shutting it in, afraid to let it out and see what others thought of her. The same could be said for her body.
Angie could not, and probably stubbornly refused to accept Moira's excuse that she needed privacy in the bathtub. What did Moira do in the tub that was so different from when she and Jacob were in it? So after Moira had added a little more hot water and tentatively got in (all the while keeping her back to Angie) the little girl sat on the toilet seat and kept on chatting.
Slowly a game began to form, with Angie pretending to be the mother while Moira was her small child. Moira let her wash her back, pour water over her head, and playfully scold her for always being so difficult to take a bath. "What am I to do with this naughty child of mine?"
Moira giggled, "You could pass me the towel and let me get dry. And you could be a very good mother and go get a nighty for me from my drawer."
"Kay." And like that Moira was alone to wrap herself up without having another difficult conversation as to why Angie could not see her fully naked. But after almost five minutes Moira was beginning to wonder if it was a good idea to send someone with a short attention span on a mission to retrieve clothes. Goosebumps began to form on her skin when the cold air crept from under the doorway and she almost considered just leaving in her towel to get dressed in her room.
Finally Angie came back with what looked like a few items of clothing. "You sure took your time."
"Sorry, I couldn't figure out which one you wanted so I brought the first few things I could grab. I asked my ghost friend which one I should bring but he doesn't talk." Angie said while unloading the material into Moira's lap.
Moira regarded her. "You have a ghost friend now, Sissy?" She seemed to have brought a bit of everything: there was a light sleeveless shift she usually only slept in during warmer months, underwear, and a bundled up undershirt she was sure was there by mistake. She decided to put the undershirt on before the nighty, to keep her warm and also hide the fact she was wearing it.
Angie nodded. "Yeah, he was the one haunting Nana's doghouse. I started talking to him and asked if he'd rather be inside where it warm, so now he lives under my bed."
"He's not going to keep us up with rattling chains is he?" Moira teased. She started kneading the towel into her scalp, hoping to dry her hair before she went to bed with a cold head.
Shaking her head, Angie said no. "I don't think he can make noise. He just hides in the shadows because he's real shy."
As Moira manually dried her hair she took in Angie's demeanor and overall attitude with life. While Moira didn't keep a lot of comments to herself, to the point she was labeled a smart ass by some of her teachers, Angie had no filter to speak of. She wasn't afraid to ask questions or say what she thought because she had no concept of being thought of as silly, simply not caring what other people thought of her. Moira could remember being ignorant like that and found herself drawing Angie up on her lap.
"Hey," she made sure Angie was looking at her. "Can you give Sissy a hug?"
Angie cocked her head, merely curious at the request. "Why?"
Moira shrugged, "Because I need it."
Feeling those little arms wrap around her neck made Moira feel lighthearted. As she held onto the little girl, Moira knew she was merely trying to hold onto herself, to salvage what little of her childhood she had left. "Promise me you will always remain like this forever," Angie felt it whispered into her hair, which her sister had currently buried her face in.
Angie nodded, not knowing what else to do or what Moira actually meant. But somewhere in the heavens an angel laughed at the irony that while Moira told Angie never to grow up, she inadvertently had planted the seeds that made the little girl realize she had to.
In the heavens an angel laughed. On the toilet the girls embraced.
And on the roof Peter Pan tip toed.
The backyard was empty, essential boy-shadow free after Peter had scouted it. He'd waited until the lights in the house went out and began checking under every rock and bush to find it. He'd even crawled inside the dog house but to his despair there was nothing.
"If your shadow's left the yard then there's no way we will ever find it. This world's too big to search." Tink pointed out, buzzing about his left ear.
But Peter shook his head. "It's still here Tink, I can sense it somewhere nearby." His gaze went to the house and he wondered if the shadow was crafty enough to have made it back inside. Tink seemed to have read his thoughts because she immediately pulled on his collar as he began to fly towards it. "Might as well start at the top and work our way down."
Tink had given up pulling his clothes and instead lay face down on his shoulder. "This is such a bad idea," her voice was muffled by the cloth, devised out of fairy textiles with leaves and vines Peter had fashioned himself since the concept of sewing escaped him.
He went to the familiar window he'd always used, and seeing the latch undone he pushed it open. Staring at the two unoccupied beds he wondered if this room was even in use anymore. Using some of his fragmented memory he was willing to bet this was Jane's old room, so why wasn't she sleeping in it? Knowing those questions could be answered later, he went about his task.
"Shadow?" He whispered, hoping it would draw it out. He went to all the corners in the room that it could hide in, putting his hands into every nook to try and tickle it out. He was just checking the closet when Tink began pointing excitedly under one of the beds. "Did you find it?"
She nodded and clapped her little hands, so happy to be useful. Peter got on his hands and knees and peered under. If one wasn't looking for a shadow, then any normal person would not have noticed the darkness under the bed as anything more than that. But Peter saw the odd clump of darkness, the overlaying shapes of what looked like a head, crossed arms, and enfolded legs. Peter smiled as he recognized his twin and began to reach underneath, "Got' cha."
With his upper torso under the bed Peter did not hear the bedroom door open. No light spilled in because the hallway light was off, unnecessary for someone who knew this house backwards and with their eyes closed. Peter hit his head when the shuffling of weight and feet alerted him, and when he stood upright there was a gasp. Whether the sound of surprise came from him or the figure in front of him we would never know.
A girl his size stood their staring at him, her eyes wide and her mouth parted in shock. She stood frozen and he mirrored her, each taking the other in and assessing the threat. Her eyes started to dart unknowingly and Peter recognized the fear in them, seeing his hand instinctually hovering near his hip where his knife lay. She closed her mouth and found his eyes, holding his stare and trying to figure out what he would do. His eyes mimicked her surprise at first, but then appeared confused.
'Is he honestly surprised that I'm here? This is my room!' Moira's few coherent thoughts allowed, because the rest of her body was screaming: there's a boy with a knife in your room. Get out of there. Now.
Peter saw her move before Moira's mind even contemplated it. He saw her eyes dart to the door, still open a crack and saw the shift in her weight. Moira didn't make it two steps before Peter was upon her, using his weight to push her back-first into the door, effectively shutting it in the process. Her squeak of surprise was cut off by Peter's hand covering her mouth.
"Shhhhhh," Peter hissed in her ear. She began to struggle, bringing her hands up to push him away. He tried his best not to move, to show her that he meant her no harm. He needed her calm if she was too answer the questions racing through his head, like who she was and why was she in Jane's room?
After getting nowhere by pushing him, Moira pressed her hands against the door and brought up her knee, missing her intended target but startling him enough to jump to the her left. He was blocking the door so she resolved to rush forward to get away from him. Peter recovered quickly and dove after her, knocking them both off balance and onto the floor with a thump which Moira prayed her parents below would hear. Moira cursed at but was also thankful Angie had decided to sleep with Jacob tonight.
Peter used one hand to cover her mouth again and effectively trap her head on the carpet, the other grabbed her free arm to pin it to the floor. Normally he would never get into physical scraps with a girl, but he'd had enough screaming women in the last two nights to last a lifetime. He leaned his weight on her upper back, effectively winding her and causing her movement to slacken.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Peter hissed, his head now rested in the crook of her neck and shoulder. "Be still." Peter could feel the hand that held her mouth moisten and realized she was crying, pitiful moans trying to escape her mouth.
Peter knew she would not calm down at this rate. If he didn't let go she could eventually make noise and alert the adults, and he might never get his shadow back. If he let go of her now she would make noise and alert the adults anyway. He came to a decision.
"Open the window Tink, quickly," Peter whispered frantically.
Once it was pushed open enough, he dragged them both into a standing position and pulled her across the room. If she wanted to scream her head off then he would take her to a place she could do just that. Once she calmed down he could talk to her and get his answers.
They stepped onto the window ledge. Moira had just enough time to realize what he was about to do when he threw them both out the window. Her shriek was muffled as they fell several feet before Peter got used to the weight adjustment and they began soaring against the wind, over her backyard, and soon over all of London.
An early Christmas present for my reviewers and the many people who've read my story. Thank you all so much for making this first fanfiction so worthwhile.
Check out my profile for more links to artwork related to this fanfic, I've added some since the last chapter