by Aiden Thomas
Wendy flinched. The way he said it was so cavalier.
“I thought the police would find them for sure, that it was just a matter of time before they figured out it was me—but they didn’t. Then those kids started going missing, and Joel and Matthew were taken—” Mr. Davies shook his head roughly. “I killed your sons, but I didn’t touch those kids, you have to believe me,” he begged Mr. Darling. Frantically, he turned to Wendy and took a step forward, his hands clasped together. “I’m so sorry, Wendy—I—”
Wendy recoiled.
Mr. Darling snapped out of his daze.
“Don’t you DARE come anywhere near my daughter!” Mr. Darling snarled, his lips pulling back, baring his teeth. “You killed my boys!” It was a guttural roar. Spittle collected at the corners of his mustache. “I swear to God, I’ll—”
Wendy’s father surged forward, nostrils flaring, the tendons in his neck corded. Mr. Davies shrank back and his arms shot up to shield himself. Around them, police officers converged on Mr. Davies and blocked her father’s path to him.
Wendy leapt forward and grabbed her dad’s arm, trying to pull him back. “Dad, don’t!”
Mr. Darling froze, but he didn’t take his eyes off the cowering man in front of him. His barrel chest heaved up and down. Wendy held on to her father as tightly as she could, but it was like a child holding back a charging bull. “He’s telling the truth. Mr. Davies didn’t take the kids,” Wendy said to Detective James.
“How do you know that?” Detective James asked, keeping his attention on Wendy’s dad and Mr. Davies.
“The man who took me was the same person who was keeping the kids hostage in the woods,” she said. She didn’t know why she was coming to the aid of Mr. Davies, but it was true: He hadn’t done it. Wendy was determined to be the bigger person. There was enough pain and hurt to go around for one night. “When I followed the man earlier tonight and saw his face, I remembered him,” she lied. “It was the same man that had taken me from the woods.”
“You know what the kidnapper looks like?” Detective James asked.
Wendy nodded.
He turned to Mr. Davies. “Donald Davies, turn around slowly and put your hands on your head,” he told him. Mr. Davies gave Wendy one last mournful look before he did as he was told. Detective Rowan put him in handcuffs and dragged him to one of the cop cars.
Wendy knew she would have to give a description of some man she would have to make up. Give more statements, answer more questions. But, right now, she just wanted to get out of the woods.
Mr. Darling didn’t move. He remained glaring at Mr. Davies’s retreating back.
“Dad,” Wendy said gently, tugging on his arm.
He turned to her, and Wendy could see pain, loss, and rage warring in his face. It glistened in his eyes.
“Can we go home now?” she asked in a small voice. “Please?”
Mr. Darling rubbed his nose on the back of his fist. With a stiff nod, he hooked his arm over her shoulders, holding her close to his side as they walked to his car down the road.
* * *
When Wendy and her father walked through the front door, her mother was sitting on the couch, her phone held up to her ear. She jumped and turned to them, the phone sliding from her hand. Mrs. Darling’s brown hair was a rumpled mess. She was still wearing her work scrubs and her eyes were red, the delicate skin around them puffy. Seeing Wendy, she drew a shuddering sigh, her fingers pressing to the base of her throat.
Behind her, the television was on. The screen showed the crowded logging road in the middle of the woods, the camera panning across ambulances, police cars, and yellow tape. There, front and center, were John’s and Michael’s school pictures. The same ones the news had used when they’d first gone missing.
This time, the marquee read: BODIES FOUND.
Mrs. Darling’s voice quaked when she spoke. “They called me.” She blinked and tears spilled down her cheeks. “They think it might be John and Michael?”
Wendy walked past her father to where her mother sat on the couch. Steeling herself, Wendy tried to work up the courage to speak. Her hands opened and closed into fists at her sides. Her palms were slick with sweat. Her parents deserved some sort of explanation, something to make up for or ease the pain, but she didn’t know what to say.
Her mother stared up at her, confusion and worry denting her brow.
With determination, Wendy sucked in a deep breath, but it rattled in her lungs and tightened her chest. She felt her eyes prickle, felt the burn in her throat. “I—” Her face crumpled. An uncontrollable sob choked her.
“I’m so sorry,” Wendy blurted. Fracturing sobs overcame her. “It’s all my f-fault, I’m sorry—I’m so sorry!” The words repeated over and over until they slurred together into nothing. Her body trembled and her chest bucked with cries as she wrapped her arms tightly around her middle.
The sheer shock on her mother’s face softened.
Mrs. Darling’s gentle hands pulled Wendy to her. Her knees sank into the couch and Mrs. Darling gathered her close. Wendy’s body went rigid at first. She didn’t know the last time her mother had touched her like this, couldn’t even remember how it felt. But Mrs. Darling tucked the top of Wendy’s head under her chin and wrapped her arms around her. Her hand rubbed her back in long, slow strokes. She hummed softly into Wendy’s ear and everything in Wendy released.
She collapsed against her mom, clutching Mrs. Darling as she cried into her shoulder. Spit and tears soaked into the green scrubs.
“I’m so sorry,” Wendy choked out. “It’s my fault— I was supposed to be watching them— I was there—” Grief squeezed her like a vice. “I saw it happen— I couldn’t remember— I couldn’t— It’s because of me we aren’t a family anymore—”
“Shh, my darling,” her mom said quietly into her ear. Her voice was somber and edged with pain, but tender nonetheless. She held Wendy close, continuing to rub her back as she stroked her hair with the other hand. “This is not your fault. None of this is your fault.”
Relief and sorrow crashed through Wendy. She curled up against her mom. She had put so much energy and care into not letting herself cry for fear of never stopping. But now, the anguished cries shuddered through her body, and she let them.
“I’m so sorry, Wendy…”
Wendy wanted to argue, to say that her mom had no reason to be sorry, she was the one to blame for John’s and Michael’s deaths.
“We were trying to protect you, but we let you down,” Mrs. Darling said. Wendy could only shake her head. She felt the sigh lift her mom’s chest. “We let our own mourning distract us from taking care of you. You are so brave, Wendy Darling.” Her mom gave her a small squeeze.
Mrs. Darling leaned back. Wendy felt her hands, cool against her flushed skin, cup her cheeks. Wendy hiccupped as she blinked through tears. She felt the weight on the couch shift. Her dad lowered himself next to them. One of his heavy hands settled on her back.
“You’ve been haunted by this for so long,” her mom told her, thumbs sweeping away her tears. Mrs. Darling’s smile was small but hopeful. “I want you to live, Wendy, not just endure.”
It was more than Wendy could take, so she let herself give in to it. She huddled against her mom, who continued to rub her back. Her dad’s steady hand didn’t leave.
“You found them, Wendy,” her mom murmured against the top of her head. “They’re safe.”
They stayed there for a long while, Wendy pressed between her mom and dad, letting them hold her close. She felt like she was teetering on the edge of a black pit that threatened to swallow her whole, but every time she felt as though she was about to fall in headfirst, she closed her eyes and remembered John and Michael.
Wendy appreciated her parents’ comfort, but after a while, it started to feel suffocating. She was overheated and thirsty. Her lips tasted like salt. She needed some space, some fresh air, and some sleep.
She gently untangled herself from her parents’ arms
and got up off the couch. “I’m going to go to sleep,” she said through sniffles, wiping at her runny nose. “In my old room.”
Her mom and dad exchanged looks.
“I’m okay,” Wendy told them, and this time it wasn’t a lie. She inhaled a deep breath and managed a small smile. “Really.”
Her dad finally nodded and her mom gave her hand a small squeeze before Wendy went upstairs.
The unlocked door swung open easily. Wendy crept over to the bay window and crawled onto the bench. The sky was turning a periwinkle blue, creeping toward sunrise. Wendy leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. She hooked her thumb around the leather cord around her neck and squeezed the acorn in her palm.
A cool breeze rolled in from the woods, carrying with it the smell of honeysuckle. A warm and tentative hand cupped her cheek. Wendy sighed and a smile curled her mouth. When she opened her eyes, Peter sat next to her, his legs dangling out the window. The first ray of sun washed over his skin. His shadow spilled across the bedroom floor next to Wendy’s.
“Are you okay?” he asked. Every bit of his brilliance had returned, but that worried line between his brows was still there.
“Yeah,” Wendy said. She paused and then shook her head. “I mean no, not really, but yes, I will be,” she corrected herself. She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest.
Peter’s thumb brushed the corner of her lips before his hand dropped to his side. “And your parents?”
“About the same, I’d say.” She leaned closer. “Did you see what happened?”
Peter nodded. He watched her, eyes thoughtful and full of stars.
Wendy looked up into his face, trying to drink him in and memorize every inch of him. The upward curve of his nose. The faint point to his ears. The swirl of his auburn hair. The splash of freckles across his cheeks. She knew their time was running out, that he would have to leave and go back to Neverland. She desperately wanted to savor him for every last moment.
Wendy reached out and brushed her thumb against the crease in Peter’s brow. His blue eyes blinked slowly. “When’s all of this going to go back to normal?” she asked, bumping her knee against his arm.
Peter gave her a small grin. “Soon,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll go back to my normal shape and size when I get to Neverland.”
Wendy shifted to lean against him. “I wish I could remember it,” Wendy said. “Neverland, I mean. I still have that whole chunk of my memory missing. I wish I could remember what it was like, being there with my brothers…”
“Maybe you’ll start getting the memories back now,” Peter said with a small lift of his shoulders. “Maybe now that you’ve unlocked them, more will follow. Good ones. Happy ones.”
“Maybe.”
“Or…” Peter’s grin quirked to a mischievous angle. He leaned in conspiratorially. “You could just come back with me to Neverland.”
With that glint in his eye, it was hard for her to tell if he was being serious. Against all logic, hope jumped in her chest. “I could stay with you?”
“You could stay with me,” he repeated.
“And I could see my brothers again?”
“Yes.”
Wendy dragged her teeth over her bottom lip. Of course, it was too good to be true, or that simple. “But then they wouldn’t be able to move on, would they?”
Peter held her gaze, but his smile lessened. “No.”
Wendy nodded. “And neither would I…” It was a wonderful idea. Running away to Neverland with Peter. Being able to see her brothers again. Having no responsibilities. No real world to have to deal with. But it also meant giving up so much. Wendy let out a small laugh. “With my luck, we’d just kick-start this whole nightmare all over again,” she told him.
Peter laughed and bumped his shoulder into hers. “Yeah, I guess that wouldn’t be good.”
“Well, you could just stay here and grow up,” she said, heart fluttering. “With me.”
Peter’s smile was soft and sweet. Just for her.
She knew the answer before he could say it.
“I can’t. I need to go back and take care of the lost kids. I want to,” he corrected himself. “To look after them.”
Wendy nodded.
“Growing up sounds awful anyway,” Peter said casually, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He looked out over the backyard toward the woods. His eyes shone especially bright and the tip of his nose turned pink. “Though…” His head tipped and he looked at Wendy from the corner of his eye. “Maybe not so awful if it were with you.”
Wendy laughed and wiped tears from her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Will you tell John and Michael when you see them?” she asked. “That I love them and think about them all the time?”
“I will.”
With a shaky nod, Wendy threw herself against him and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Peter squeezed her against him. She laid her ear against his chest. His heartbeat thrummed, fast but steady. Wendy tried to ignore the dread weighing on her.
“You have to leave now, don’t you,” she mumbled against his shoulder. It wasn’t a question. She leaned back to peer up at him.
Peter nodded. His hair tickled her forehead as he stared sadly into her eyes.
She wanted to tell him that she didn’t think she could handle saying good-bye. That the thought of never seeing him again terrified her. That she needed him, that she wanted to keep him, but she couldn’t talk past the lump in her throat.
Peter smiled. He cupped Wendy’s cheeks in his hands. Her eyes closed. His kiss was soft. His lips tasted sweet as honeysuckle.
“I will never forget you,” he whispered against her lips.
When she opened her eyes, he was gone.
Wendy wrapped her arms tightly around herself. The cool breeze drifting in from the woods tickled her skin.
It seemed impossible for things to go back to normal after a day like today. She knew there would be more questions in the morning. She would have to explain to Jordan what had happened, or as much as she could, anyway. They would probably argue some more, but it was more important for Wendy to explain herself and to keep Jordan as her best friend than to be “right” or the winner of the conversation.
There would be moving on after this. The summer would be over soon, and she would be starting college. A new life and a new path.
Wendy gazed up at the stars, and the stars gazed back.
Epilogue
“Ugh!” Jordan dramatically threw her hands into the air and collapsed back onto the grass. “Why did I let you talk me into taking this class?” she demanded, shouting at the sky.
“I didn’t make you do anything,” Wendy told her, chuckling as she neatly tucked her organic chemistry textbook into her backpack. She and Jordan had a tradition of eating lunch on the sprawling lawn between classes when the weather was nice. “We’re taking the class because it’s required for premed.” Wendy fixed her with a stern look, her eyebrow cocked at a critical angle. “Remember?”
Jordan muttered darkly under her breath.
Their first year of college had passed by in a blur. Wendy and Jordan had been placed in the health sciences dorm, right down the hall from each other. It had only taken Wendy one week of classes before she’d gone to the registrar’s office and signed up for premed. Jordan had whooped and hollered behind her as she filled out the paperwork at the front desk. It was embarrassing and wonderful.
It was mind-blowing, the difference a year could make.
The university had a great clinic onsite, and her student health insurance included counseling sessions. She’d been seeing the same psychologist all school year, twice a week, and she was slowly learning how to work through her anxiety disorder. After getting her memories back, Wendy had experienced a whole new set of challenges. Nightmares, flashbacks, and insomnia. She got a prescription to ease her anxiety and help her sleep, but some days were worse than others. It was hard. Sometimes it felt impossible, but she had help. She had her parents, she had
Jordan, and she had her goals to focus on and pull her through. She was going to graduate with her bachelor’s degree, go on to med school, and become a doctor. A pediatrician, specifically.
“I gotta head to my next class,” Jordan grumped, stuffing papers haphazardly into her bag. She stretched her hands up over her head, fingers reaching toward the sunshine. “Are we still on to swim laps tomorrow morning?”
Wendy nodded. “Definitely.” They’d both made it onto the swim team, but, coming from a small high school in an equally small town, they were far behind the varsity swimmers. It was nice, though, having a reason to really push herself. Not to mention, getting a good swim session in made it easier for her to sleep at night.
“Good.” Jordan’s teeth shone in a grin as she pulled Wendy into a bear hug. She’d been doing that a lot lately, ever since the night Wendy had found the kids in the woods. When Jordan had showed up to her house the morning after, there wasn’t even a discussion of who owed who an apology, or who was sorry for what. Jordan just crushed Wendy against her in a spine-popping hug before barraging her incessantly with questions.
Wendy avoided the ones about Barry and what had happened to him. The occasional poorly done police sketch of Peter still caught her off guard around town when she visited her parents, hanging in a window or half torn from a lamppost. They were still looking for him, as he was the only one who had gone missing and hadn’t returned, but active searches had stopped long ago. Most people shrugged him off as just a vagabond who had passed through town.
Jordan tugged on a lock of Wendy’s hair as she pulled back. “You’re getting awfully shaggy, girl,” she said as she stood up.
Wendy smoothed her hands through her hair. “Yeah, I’m thinking about growing it out,” she said with a shrug. It was already starting to brush her shoulders.
Jordan nodded. “New look—I love it!” she sang with enthusiasm. Wendy laughed and Jordan beamed. “I’ll stop by after class!” she called with a wave as she headed back toward the brick buildings. “I need to show you how to make ramen in your coffee maker!”
