Lost in the Never Woods(85)

Again, her mother’s faint voice tickled her ears.

Wendy crept down the hallway to her parents’ room. The door was cracked open and she could clearly hear her mother speaking.

“Are you all right, my darlings?” she gently cooed. Wendy’s grip on the doorframe tightened. Her mother was just talking in her sleep again. “You aren’t hurt?”

“Of course not, Mommy.”

Wendy froze. Her heart lodged in her throat.

She knew that voice. That was her brother Michael, so soft and always on the verge of laughter. She could hear the smile in his voice.

“I would never let anything happen to Michael, you know that.” And that was John. His voice was distinct. He always sounded much older than he was, like he was impersonating their father’s timbre, always speaking in absolutes. Wendy could picture him pushing his glasses up on his nose by nudging the lower corner with a knuckle.

It was John and Michael. They were just on the other side of the door. They were here, they had come back.

Wendy pushed the door open silently, fingers trembling, eyes wide.

But what she saw didn’t make sense.

Her mother lay in bed, her eyes closed. Her brow puckered and her lips were parted. The edges pulled down in a way that made her look like she was in pain.

And there, perched on the dresser next to her mother’s side, was Peter.

He sat cross-legged, looking down at Mrs. Darling with his hands in his lap. The moonlight coming in the window glanced off the side of his face in silvery silhouette. His head was bowed, as if in prayer, and his eyelids drooped. The shadows caught the heaviness of his brow, painting the circles under his eyes an even darker shade of blue. His thumb massaged the center of his palm.

“Are you frightened?” Mrs. Darling said.

Peter’s lips parted, his tongue wet his bottom lip, and John’s voice flowed out. “Not at all. Try not to worry about us,” he said.

“Yes, we’ve got each other.” Peter spoke with Michael’s voice. “We’re safe.”

Safe.

Wendy felt as though the world had disappeared beneath her feet. She couldn’t understand what she was seeing. Her fingers dug into the wall to balance herself.

Her mother’s face began to relax. “I miss you both so much…”

“We miss you, too, Mommy,” Peter said in Michael’s voice.

“We think about you all the time,” he added in John’s.

A small smile began to form on Mrs. Darling’s lips. “I love you so much, my sweet boys…” She rolled onto her side and pulled her pillow close.

Peter sat there silently for a moment. There was something about the way he looked at her mother that made Wendy ache. He shouldered her grief like it was his own. Propping his elbows on his knees, Peter buried his face in his hands, pushing his fingers through his hair. He looked so small. Young and exhausted.

Wendy stepped carefully into the room. “Peter?” she whispered.

Startled, he looked up. The moonlight gave his surprised face a ghostly pallor. Streaks glistened on his cheeks. Peter jumped down from the dresser, quickly wiping the heel of his hand across his eyes.

For a long moment, Wendy didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t make sense of what she had just seen, or maybe she just didn’t want to. Hope had been ripped from her so quickly, she was still reeling. “What are you doing?” Wendy finally asked, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle.

Peter lowered his head. He flicked a glance back at Mrs. Darling before meeting Wendy’s confused stare. His shoulders rolled in an uncertain shrug. “Trying to help,” he said. His voice was low and hollow. Resigned.

Wendy’s brow furrowed and she gave a small, confused shake of her head.

He stepped closer and spoke quietly, so as to not wake up her mother. “I … after I brought you back, sometimes I would come and check on you. You know, to make sure my shadow hadn’t found you…” He rubbed the back of his neck. If the light were on, would she see him blushing? “One night, I heard your mom talking in her sleep. I thought … I thought that if I could speak to her with their voices, try to reassure her, she wouldn’t be in so much pain?” His brilliant blue eyes searched hers.

Wendy thought back to when she had first come back home, after Peter left her in the woods and she had been released from the hospital. She remembered how she’d thought she heard her mother talking to her brothers. She’d felt that same rush in her stomach, the desperate sense of relief.

“That was you?” she asked.

Peter’s eyes fell to the floor and he nodded. His mouth twisted into a grimace and a crease formed between his eyebrows. Everything about his posture looked like he was bracing himself.

Wendy pressed her fingers to her lips. Even then, Peter had been trying to look out for her, and her mother. He was always trying to take care of people, to ease their suffering and bring them happiness, whatever way he could.

“How do you manage it?” Wendy asked with a small shake of her head. “How do you take all of that on yourself?” She stepped closer, closing the space between them.

Peter stilled. “My magic used to make it easier,” he told her, still looking at the floor. “It takes more of a toll now…”

“If you’re busy taking care of everyone else, who takes care of you?” Wendy asked.