“What is all of this stuff?” Michael asked as he lifted a medallion and turned it in a shaft of sunlight. It sparkled and gleamed, reflecting blue and green light through the emeralds and sapphires embedded within.
It was a moment before Wendy replied. But when she did, it was with a tone so soft and so poignant that Michael found himself replacing the medallion and turning toward his sister.
“It’s all of the stuff that Hook couldn’t use when Peter cut off his hand.”
Wendy gestured to the buttons. “When was the last time you were able to button a shirt with one hand?” Then she pointed to the pens and the journal in her hand. “And he was probably right handed. It’s nearly impossible to write in a journal like this with your left hand. The seam of the book fights with you.” She set the journal back down and began gingerly replacing the fallen items in the cabinet. “I should know. I tried once.”
“Well, he has pens on his desk now.” Michael ventured. “And he carries a pistol.”
Wendy nodded, slowly. “It’s been years since it happened, Michael. He’s had time to adjust.” She paused. When she spoke again, her tone had lowered a tad. “He probably did all of this right after it happened.”
There was a knock on the door.
Both Michael and Wendy jumped at the sound – then glanced at one another with stark fear. Somehow, they didn’t think that Captain James Hook would appreciate their snooping.
“Wendy, are you all right?” It was Hook.
Wendy’s eyes widened and she and Michael hurried to put the remaining broken items back into the cabinet. She struggled to get it shut as she replied, “I’m fine! Thank you!”
“I heard a noise,” came Hook’s slight inquisition.
“I dropped something, that’s all,” Wendy lied. Michael knew that Wendy hated lying. She was horrible at it and it made her feel terrible. So she didn’t generally do it.
Which was probably why Hook didn’t believe her.
The gold handle turned on the door. It opened just as Wendy was managing to shut the cabinet tight. She and Michael straightened to standing positions as Hook appeared in the doorway.
Captain Hook stepped over the threshold and turned his piercing blue gaze on Wendy and her brother. Michael could feel himself grow smaller in the pirate captain’s presence.
Still – he did his best to prepare himself for a fight. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt his sister. And, if he could handle the boys at school, he could handle Hook.
Right?
However, the captain did not appear to be looking for a fight. Michael noticed that his blue eyes lingered on his sister’s face – and then dropped to the cabinet she stood in front of. A single red and gold button had gone unnoticed and glinted, guiltily, beside Wendy’s right shoe.
Michael’s eyes widened. His sister saw it too; she began biting her lip.
Hook took a deep breath and seemed to contemplate something for a moment. Michael swallowed hard. Surely Hook knew what they’d been up to now.
“Mr. Darling, return to the deck, please. My men need help preparing for the storm. Your brother is already there; you can assist him.”
Michael didn’t want to leave Wendy. He could sense the tension in the air. He may be a young boy, but he was no stranger to antagonism; his classmates at school had given him many lessons on the subject.
But as he looked from Wendy to Hook and was caught in a stormy sea gaze so intense, it caused his heartrate to double, his decision was made for him.
“Aye, Sir,” he told the captain. For, he’d been made an honorary pirate, of sorts, hadn’t he? And rules were rules. Especially on the sea.
Michael turned toward the open door and brushed past Hook on his way out. As he did, he prayed Wendy would forgive him for deserting her.
*****
When Michael was gone, James Hook closed the door behind him. He knew that Wendy had seen the cupboard with the. . . discarded items. They were remnants of a moment in time he would have given anything to forget. He wasn’t certain how to feel about Wendy witnessing any part of that moment. It was useless to hope that she wouldn’t put two and two together and realize that, when Pan had taken his hand, he had taken so much more of him than flesh and bone. Wendy was a very bright young woman.
Hook peered into her gray eyes and considered his next words very carefully. In the end, he decided to let the matter drop. He possessed, at the moment, neither the courage nor the frame of mind to breach that particular subject with Wendy Darling.
“I was informed, moments ago,” he said, slowly, as he turned and made his way to the table at the opposite end of his cabin. “That you were. . . .” He glanced at her over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “That you were in some distress.” He turned back, pulled a decanter of liquid from a shelf above the table, and popped the cork out with his left thumb. It was in a voice barely above a whisper that he then asked, “Are you all right, Wendy?”