Chapter 20. Clouds and smoke signals

She stood silently watching the three little ones as they slept peacefully. For three days now she had dutifully nursed each child, giving them nourishment but little else. She had not spoken a word since the birth; she had just done what was expected of her. Each time one of them needed to be fed, she did so. Other than that she had refused to even touch them, as if they were somehow contaminated. Now she stood, silently watching. Her three babies lay in their bassinets, sleeping peacefully. They were beautiful, and that disturbed her. She could have shielded her heart if they had not been so. Jill/Wendy was regaining her strength, and she stared down at the babies. What was she to do now?

“They must have names,” Straw-reed moved to stand beside her. “Gray Elk has held off reporting the births as long as he can without attracting attention. You must name them.”

“I cannot,” Jill whispered hoarsely.

“You must,” the old woman was not bending on this, nor was she willing to coddle Jill as the younger women were apt to do. “You are their mother.”

Looking at the old woman with contempt, Jill rasped. “Not by choice,” she looked at the babies, “Not by my choice.” Her body ached, and her soul felt disconnected. “None of this is of my choosing.”

“Stop pitying yourself,” barked the old woman harshly. “You made a choice to keep them…”

Hanging her head, Jill began to weep. “Yes,” she sobbed. “She looked down at the three little bodies sleeping peacefully. ‘Was I wrong to give them life?’ she wondered.

“Open your heart to them,” suggested the old one. “They are your children…”

“They belong to him,” she muttered darkly.

“Only part of them is him, the other part is you.” Straw-reed declared placing a guiding hand on her shoulder. “Name them. Claim them and open your heart to them, raise them.”

Jill nodded, conceding that it was indeed time, “Peter,” she touched the first boy before moving on to her second son, “James,” her voice quivered as she named the sleeping infant. She looked now at the little girl sleeping undisturbed sleep. “Wendy.” She looked at Straw-reed.

The old woman accepted the names and smiled, “And so the Rodgers family grows by three.”

Jill blinked, “He’s expecting a single birth,” she began to snicker, “He won’t look at anything but boys being born…”

“These three,” Straw-reed interjected, “Are being registered as reservation births.” She cackled like an old crow. “Do you think he’ll look at native births?”

“You’re a crafty old woman,” Jill said boldly.

“And you’re a sentimental fool,” the native old woman scoffed, “Giving them these names.”

“What would you have named them,” Jill taunted. “Marmaduke, Tiberius, and Olivia?”

Straw-reed cackled louder. The sound broke through the wall Jill was building and caused her to laugh as well.

--

James entered the rented rooms looking wan, and handed his jacket to Smee before heading to the window to stare out at the city he’d just wandered.

“Anything?” the little man asked hopefully.

“Dead end after dead end,” James muttered. “The trail has gone cold; even her scent is faint… here.” He wiped his brow with a trembling hand. “I’ve had detectives watching every hospital I can think of… and not a sign of her. It’s as if she stopped existing.” His eyes were bloodshot from worry and the strain of looking in every nook and cranny the old city had for the woman. “She’s not here,” he stated knowingly. “If she were, I’d have found her by now.”

“Where do you want to look next,” asked the bosun.

James looked over at him, “We’re going home to London, Smee.”

“You’re giving up,” the astonished man asked.

“Not by half… she’ll need the comfort of family now,” he gritted through his teeth. “Perhaps that stupid self centered bitch Lizzy can be of use once more.” He shrugged, and then sighed. “Let’s go home, Smee.”

“Yes sir,” the little man set about making arrangements for them to leave the Orient.

Captain James Hook looked out the window, cursing his bad luck, cursing the boy Pan, and most of all cursing Wendy.

--

Six months after the birth of her children Jill came down to the kitchen to find her native sisters upset, “What’s wrong, are the babies…”

Dancing Wind answered for them, “Grandmother is leaving,” she pointed to the pack that had arrived with the old native woman. It was packed and ready to go.

“Grandmother,” Jill went to find the old woman, “Grandmother!” She called out briskly.

“Here,” a voice beside the oasis pond called back.

Jill moved swiftly down the path of the garden to where the pond was. “Dancing Wind says you are leaving.”

“I am,” agreed the old one.

“Why,” Jill knelt beside her. “Have I displeased you?”

“It is time for me to go,” the old woman touched the younger one’s cheek. “I have given you the guidance I can,” she stood up. “The rest of the journey is yours, not mine.”

“But…” Jill stammered. “I need you…”

“No,” the old one said firmly. “You need only what I’ve given.” She pulled her shawl up over her shoulders. “It is time for you to stand on your own.”

“On my own,” Jill looked down at the ground, “Then Dancing Wind and the others..”

“Will be with you as long as you have need of them,” the old woman began to walk toward the house. “They are not guidance, they are help.” She heard the soft cries of babies awakening. “And you have need of help,” she cackled.

“I will miss you, Grandmother.” Jill lamented as she followed.

“I will be by from time to time,” Straw-reed promised. “You are family.”

“If I need you, how do I call you?” Jill asked.

“Gray Dove will send up a smoke signal,” teased the old one.

Jill snickered. “How will you know it’s just not her cooking?” Both the old woman and the young one laughed. “Stay well, Grandmother.” She bid the old woman goodbye.

“You too, Little Red-hand,” nodded the elder as she picked up her bag and said goodbye to the others. “Stay well, children.”

Dancing Wind stood beside Jill as they watched the old woman head toward the dessert. “She left you a present,” Dancing Wind pointed to a bag on the counter.

Jill opened the rawhide pouch and looked inside, a sly smile crept to her lips and she closed the bag once more. “She’s a wicked old woman,” she laughed as she carried the bag with her and returned to the upper floor and the awakening babies.

--

James read the paper over and over; nothing seemed to pop out at him. He tossed the pages in his hand aside and grimly looked at the parlor. “Smee,” he called out. “When is that blasted woman arriving?”

“In an hour, Captain.” Smee answered coming in from the kitchen where he’d prepared tea for his master. “She was not happy about the invitation I can tell you!”

A smug look settled on the handsome features. “She will be even less happy when she leaves here.” He stretched out, feeling pleased that he had at least one Darling under his thumb. “Did she really think she was off the~ hook,” he snickered with maliciousness.

Smee shook his head, “Don’t be counting yer chickens, captain…not until they’ve been hatched.” He warned. “Miss Lizzy may not be so co-operative now she’s married.”

“She’ll do as she’s told,” James declared darkly. “Or her sweet husband is in for a shock…”

“He knows she was~ fast and free with her favors,” Smee argued. “It won’t shock him.”

“There are other ways to shock the man, and Lizzy now has reasons to hang on to him,” James purred.

An hour later the blonde arrived precisely on time. Smee opened the door to her; she stepped into the penthouse with a grim expression on her face. Moving with purpose she walked to the room that James was occupying. “Before you ask,” she said entering the room. “I have no new information for you. John and Peter and Michael have frozen me out.” Pursing her lips in a thin line, she stated. “It’s as if Wendy never existed, they don’t even speak her name.”

James lowered himself into a wingback chair. “You’re telling me that they show no concern for her or the child she’s delivered?”

“None,” Lizzy huffed. “If they are in touch with her it’s by some means I don’t understand. No phone calls, no mail, no emails!”

Forget-me-not blue eyes with a lost and wounded gaze looked upon her, a hand raised up slowly and he dismissed her with a wave. “You may go.” He whispered in a tortured timber.

Lizzy shook her head, “I would never have credited her with being this smart.” She turned her back on him heading toward the exit. “To have beaten you, and without the help of Peter Pan…”

“Bad form,” he whispered to himself after the woman was out of the penthouse, “Very bad form James.”

Smee alone heard his captain’s mutterings. It didn’t surprise him, the captain often talked to himself. It was one of his quirks over the years, gave him an edge. Not to mention it scared the hell out of his underlings and his foes. The old bosun stood in the entryway, waiting and listening.

James covered his weary eyes with his good hand, “Wendy, where are you,” he groaned.

Smee moved quietly out of the room, knowing his master needed a moment to compose himself. The next sound he heard was the crashing of glass and the breaking of furniture.

--

Jill Rodgers set up workshops for arts, she was settling into a pleasant existence. She knew to keep her family safe, all her family; she had to stay as far from the Darling’s as was possible. No contact, not even a note. She even refrained from looking on line for information on the family. She put them as far from her mind as she could. It was the best way to keep everyone from harm. She celebrated her first year in the lighthouse; tribal elders came to set up a tribal circle at the edge of the property. Dancing Wind and her sisters watched as the men prepared the fire pit.

When the fires were lit, and the medicine man began his chant, little embers from the fire climbed into the night sky. “It looks like fireflies,” Yellow Swallow mused.

Jill looked at the fire pit; standing on the far end she could see the outline of her lighthouse just beyond. “It looks like fairy dust,” she corrected her native sister. “It’s a sign,” she mumbled. “A warning…”

Dancing Wind looked at her, “A warning,” she looked back at the soaring bits of fire. “What kind of warning?”

The young mother placed a hand on her confidants arm, “It is best I don’t tell you what I’m about to do. For your safety and that of the tribe,” turning she headed to the house. “Keep everyone here, I’ll be back.”

The Medicine man began a new chant, Jill Rodgers moved into the dark house. She mounted the stairs, heading for her bedroom. Once in the room she opened the top drawer of her dresser. Lifting out the leather case, she opened it carefully, removing the contents. Three bags, all made of the same material. Identical in all ways, containing the same precious treasure, Fairy Dust.

For over a month now Jill had been planning on escape routes. If James came, no… when James came, she was going to be ready. Until this moment she’d planned on escaping on foot. Now she knew there was only one way to escape, and only one place her children would be safe. She carried the little bags up to the top of the lighthouse where the lamp was housed. Opening the lens of the now dark lamp, she placed the three bags of Fairy Dust. Shutting the lens again she was pleased to see that there was no visible sign of the magical substance, or the bags that held it.

When Jill Rodgers returned to the celebration she wore a confidence that gave her a powerful peacefulness. She was ready.