Hook & Jill Page 11

  “I hardly call them that, Smee. Boys are boys, and men are men. There is no confusing the two entities.”

  “Shall I check the hut, Sir?” The grass stirred nearby. Wendy stopped breathing. She heard another set of boots in the grass. They halted to loiter just outside the door. A soft swish and the click of beads against metal. Her beads— on his metal hook. Only a curtain of bark and living green separated her from the man.

  “No need to bother, Mr. Smee, she’ll not be here. She’s with Pan somewhere, enjoying a happy day since the Roger sailed from harbor. I saw her scout flying overhead this morning. To think I’ve been after the wrong fox all this time! She’s a crafty vixen, that Wendy.”

  He knew her name! And more.

  “True enough, Sir, haven’t we found? She’s flummoxed our plans right smartly since she arrived on the Island. Can’t get near those boys. But today’ll be different, aye, Sir?”

  “The outcome of today’s incursion has yet to be decided. Never underestimate your enemy, Mr. Smee. The men are searching the Indian encampment because it is the perfect time for Pan to raid it, as the tribe has decamped and made for the hills. It would seem our little assault last night made the natives uncomfortable.”

  Wendy sighed silently. Here, at least, she could find relief. The pirates were searching the wrong side of the Island for Peter and the boys! On foot, they’d never get to the Lagoon before the boys left it, before the tide. She heard her bracelet drop into the basket.

  Now she was free to fear for her own safety. What did Hook want with her? He was so near! She raised her hands to her face, and a new thought struck her as she touched the corner of her mouth. No, she was just a girl. And he wouldn’t see it. He was a pirate, he couldn’t read her heart. Never.

  But she made herself smaller, there on the forest floor of her house.

  Smee was speaking. “It beats me how she puts up with them, Captain. One girl amid a bunch of boys. Little savages, too.”

  “That is the circumstance on which I am counting, Mr. Smee. Surely by now the lady has wearied of mothering the little ruffians? After all, there are other, more mature ruffians in these parts who are in need of a… mother. It is time our crew felt the civilizing influence of the fairer sex.”

  Wendy heard the grass stir as he paced. “I am a man of sensibility, Smee. I am weary of the lack of manners displayed by my sailors. It is high time for a change. Perhaps the lady will feel the same way, and welcome the opportunity to branch out? She might even enjoy the freedoms our way of life would afford her.”

  “Aye, the call of the sea! And the men would appreciate a lady aboard, no doubt of that. With your authority behind her, she’d be respected right enough. I’ll wager she’d get better treatment from us than she gets from those rough boys, so full of themselves.”

  Suddenly the grass was still. “Bravado, Smee, is the correct term. How like a boy to show off. Pan is the worst, of course. As much as I envy Pan his youth, I would never give my manhood in exchange. As a boy, Pan is a prisoner to his weaknesses; he must never show them. I, on the other hand, show my weakness to the world, and am, ironically, the stronger for it.”

  “Weakness, Captain?”

  Wendy turned her head to hear better. She had detected a note of caution in Smee’s question.

  “Aye. You see it before you. The wound, caused by Pan himself. I am not afraid to own it. It is no shame to me. Rather, the shame lies upon he who inflicted it.”

  Smee declined to reply. It seemed he deemed it safer to hold silence.

  “And therein lies the difference. A boy will hide behind his pride. A man will face the world.”

  “But a girl, Captain. Won’t she fear to face the world with pirates? Do you think her bold enough to join?”

  “When I make the girl’s acquaintance, I will know. The men will not harm her, you made my orders clear. I need to speak with her, to learn her mind. If she joins us, I will find it in my heart to end the feud with Pan. I would consider her presence a peace offering. I have lived long enough to understand the value of compromise. I am proud, but not too proud to reach an accord, even with an adversary as hated as Pan.”

  “And if not, Captain? If she won’t come, or Pan won’t give her up?”

  Waiting for the answer, Wendy moved not a muscle. Something sharp scraped the lower half of the door. Hook lingered just outside it.

  “Of course it must be strictly her decision. Surely Pan cannot speak for her? She is her own mistress, I presume! If she is not inclined to join us, she must remain my enemy. Yet will I release her. It would be a pity, but honor demands.”

  Smee’s lilt held a touch of pride. “Aye, Cap’n, you are a man of honor! I’ve never seen you force a female of any description.”

  “No. It’s never come to that, has it?” They both laughed, Smee in a rollicking manner, and Hook’s more throaty. Wendy jumped as a sudden crunching struck just above her head. Looking to the top of the door, she saw it, a sharp metal point piercing the bark. Razor sharp. Her heart raced. The point was yanked free and the door tottered, opening. It swung out a few inches— and rested. Wendy stared out the opening, appalled.

  The laughing men moved toward the forest, and she caught her breath and gathered her wits. She got to her feet. How she wished she dared peep through the crack of the door! But no.

  “Off you go, now, Mr. Smee. I’ll stop here a while and walk back. I shall enjoy a stroll in the wood. Report to me when you’ve any news.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain! The lads are bound to have snared something by now.”

  Wendy listened to Smee’s purposeful steps directed the way the other men had gone, but she heard nothing more. Nothing to indicate the direction of a captain’s boots. The silence prickled. She knew he had to be about. She could still feel his power. There’d been no indication of his departure. But where was he? How near?

  The crack of the door beckoned. Surely she could push it open just a bit more, ever so gently? He must be in the forest by now, or at least at the edge of the clearing? The breeze tugged at the door, inviting her out. The stream’s burbling sounded strangely complacent; it made no objection. Wendy felt the hard, uneven surface of the bark under her fingers. She touched the gored place, where the hook had violated it. A small wound remained there. Pressing her face close to it, she peered out with one eye.

  The hole was so small and rough she could see only dimly through it. But a shadow loomed there. A large shadow, directly in front of her, separated from the door by only a few feet of air. Wendy lost her courage and pulled away. There she stayed, hands flat against the bark.

  She reflected on all she had heard. It was very different from what she expected. Nothing at all about harming the boys. On the contrary, a way had opened to save them, and Peter too. If Hook meant what he said in confidence to Smee, he would accept Wendy in exchange for all the others. The feud would be at an end!

  If he was a man of his word. Wendy searched her memory. Was he? Could Hook be trusted in any way, on any level? Yes. He could be trusted to preserve his own interests. And he considered himself to be above other pirates; although he would be ruthless if crossed, he often refrained from a fight if he could achieve his desires in a more civilized fashion. Yes, this certainly had been true of Hook.

  Or was she just wishfully thinking? Would she really consider a life aboard the Jolly Roger? Even temporarily? She’d always wanted to sail… but not with a crew of buccaneers! …Hook would protect her? Yes. At least, he had that power. Absolute sway over his men. It was possible she could voyage in safety.

  The freedom of the open sea drew her. Wendy’s spirit sailed even now, just dreaming of it.

  But Peter would never allow it. He didn’t understand compromise— and he would kill or die before he’d see his Wendy among the pirates. She would have to make him see the sense of it, or make it his own idea. Another opportunity for adventure. He would still need her, surely she could come back to him when the terms of agreement were satisfie
d? Perhaps it wouldn’t be so very long. And afterward, what stories she would be able to tell, to Peter and all the boys!

  And then she thought of her brothers. They were growing, they needed her to guide them, protect them. But if she could return quickly, they would be all right. And she might keep in touch with them, somehow. John might join her if necessary, maybe as a cabin boy. He wouldn’t have to become a real pirate. Neither of them would.

  Wendy recognized that Hook had spoken truth about at least one thing. Boys were full of bravado. It was bravado that got them killed. If she could find a way to keep everyone alive, shouldn’t she do it?

  All these thoughts rushed through Wendy’s mind as she stood, compelled by the open door. If the door had remained shut tight, such reflections may not have entered into her little house. She might have hidden away, enclosed and closed-minded. But the door was open, now, for good or for ill. And so was Wendy.

  With a small, hesitant creak, the bark swung away from her fingers. She stood for a moment, hands remaining poised, then she lowered her arms and took one firm step over the threshold. She looked straight ahead at the man before her. He was dressed in black, his back to her. She took another step, then, oddly, reached behind her to push the door shut again. It made a soft bump as it closed.

  His head raised up and turned slightly. The air stirred his hair.

  The same air stirred her own as she faced the dark figure that had haunted her, that hunted her.

  “I am Wendy. We have found each other.”

  Chapter 14

  Shades of Black

  He concealed his emotions. He turned slowly to stare directly, unsmilingly into her eyes. He chose his first words to mirror her own.

  “We have found each other. I am Hook.”

  Apart from his dreams, he had seen her only once before. Then she had been a girl. She was still young now, but now, she was his Beauty. Her hair, her gown, the ivy, all clung to a form that belonged in this woodland surrounding. Her eyes were deep and clear. They reflected truth. Hook showed nothing of his satisfaction.

  Wendy felt rather than saw him. He was velvety black, his sword hilt sharply silver, dark hair sleek and flowing, his neat beard glossy. The heavy earring was rich, his eyes a piercing blue, more startling under the black brim than the gems studding it. She sensed that every part of him was exactly as she had described, so many times.

  And there, the hook. Cold and barbed, incongruous with his finery. Barbaric. A hint of the cruelty he cloaked.

  She could barely speak. She whispered.

  “I know you.”

  But he was so far from what she expected. So much more. So much more real.

  His voice held a touch of irony. “Yes, I am known.”

  An inner ache stabbed her. She reached to the house for support. Hook strode forward and caught her shoulders in his good arm. He guided her to the bench, swept the basket of beads to the ground, and seated her. Seating himself beside her, he tossed his hat on the gay colors that now lay scattered in the grass.

  His touch, his proximity made everything worse. The ache within Wendy intensified. It was a force that gripped and pulled. Part of her that had been just a dream awakened and escaped, and the void it created burned raw. She tried to fill it with air, breathing fast. Hook perceived the violence within her, that she was immobilized by turmoil. Some moments passed before she was able to make herself breathe quietly. He watched, unperturbed.

  He had already identified her weapon. He used it first. When she could hear him, he spoke to her, his manner grave. “Let me tell you a story, Wendy, while you recover yourself.”

  Wendy became aware that his hand rested on his knee, jeweled. The hook lay casually across his thigh. She was unnerved to discover that its inner curve was sharpened like the edge of a razor, and much as she would have preferred the diversion of the jewels, it was the hook that snagged her gaze and kept it.

  His fairy had informed him. “I have heard of a little girl who flew away from home. She longed for adventure and knew precisely where it could be found.” As the silken voice began the narrative, Wendy’s gaze left the razor, drawn irresistibly to his face. She looked on him in wonder. Hook was telling her a story?

  “And when she grew up, she became a complete and beautiful woman, having partaken in full along the way of both joy and pain.” His eyes held her own, restraining them from the hook.

  “She was marked by her experience, of course, but those markings gave the woman her strength. They blended with her beauty to form her soul, a work of art that lives on forever.”

  Her hands tried to stifle her response. “Ah!” Tears stung at her eyes. “You know.”

  Hook’s tone was flat. “What is it I know, Wendy?”

  “The end of my story. As I wish it.” She looked away at last. “And I know what you’ll do.”

  “Not even I know what I will do. Let us find out together.” He rose and walked a few paces.

  Feeling she had endured a great deal in a few moments, Wendy was grateful for the opportunity to collect herself. His bland demeanor, so unexpected, was calming. He spoke to her over his shoulder.

  “Obviously, you were witness to my conversation with my boatswain. You know that I sought you, and why. I have no secrets. It is well.” He turned to face her once more, his silver sword belt flashing from shoulder to hip, spearing her eyes with sunlight. “What say you to my proposition?”

  She clutched the bench, and her courage. “Why should I trust you? Will you honor your word if I agree?”

  “You know me.”

  Wendy released a scornful breath. “That is hardly reassurance.”

  “I am not here to reassure you… Wendy Darling.”

  Wendy blinked. He knew her full name. She would have to think about that later. “How much time will you allow for my decision?”

  “Oh. No time.” Hook shook his head, once. “Time doesn’t exist here.”

  Her eyes widened. Time was what she needed. To her cost, it had never been on her side. She rose from the willow seat. “I— I must accept. But I will need time, to explain to Peter. I’m not certain what his reaction will be.”

  “I am certain. He will challenge me and I will kill him.”

  The implication of his words and the coldness with which he spoke them struck her like frozen rain. Her mouth fell open. As it all sank in, she became aware that it was much too familiar.

  “You sound just like him!”

  His gaze was cool. “So you begin to understand. Your boy is no better, and no worse, than the pirate he professes to despise.”

  Shock struck her yet again, but she tasted the truth of his bitter words. She wanted to spit them out. “So you will use me to provoke your duel!”

  “What better provocation can I find?” In two strides he was in front of her. He gripped her upper arm and forced her face close to his. “When Pan loses to me, you understand, there will be no more choice for you. There will be no more boys to mother. I will not ask your ‘consent’ again.”

  Aware of his strength, Wendy saw, horribly late, that she was caught. The decision to be made was make-believe, had never existed. He was as wily as she had portrayed him. She should have seen it! But he had baited this trap too well.

  “But why not kill me with the boys? Once you’ve snared Peter, I will be of no more use to you.”

  His icy eyes swept over her. “On the contrary. It will be most gratifying to watch you and Pan betray each other.” She drew a sharp breath. Hook released her arm, observing as horror spread over her face. She backed away, but he stepped close again and looked down at her, sneering. “Yes, you play him false even now. I see the desire in your eyes. You are impatient to grow up.”

  Her heart beat with wild alarm. What else did he know?

  “Pan must see it too. What will his reaction be to that?”

  She cast her eyes down, silent.

  “I thought so. You claim you are loyal to him, yet you break his law. And he will betray
you, as well, when you most need him.”

  Her jaw jutted and she shot him a defiant look. “I don’t believe you!”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Yet you respect truth above all things. I will prove it to you. Easily.”

  She was dazed, but realized she must learn more of his scheme. “You talk of truth? Then tell me. You spoke to Smee of Peter’s weakness. What did you mean?”

  “The clever vixen, always trying to divine my plans.” His eyes narrowed. “Or are you simply casting until you may inquire about my own weakness? To gain power over me?” The hook waved, negligent of its effect. “It matters little. I am an open book, to you.” He inhaled deeply. He began to pace. “I meant that youth paints the world with a boring palette. Only two possibilities exist for Pan. Black, or white.” He swiveled to face her. “Such children see only two shades.”

  Wendy looked past him, seeking some kind of help from the surroundings that at one time seemed so friendly, but had deceived her. She became aware of the dusky twilight of the woods, and the glare of the sun on his earring. “Dark… and light,” she murmured. Against her will, as if a wedge of intellect was prying her from the boy she loved, she acknowledged this man’s thinking.

  “Exactly.” His tone had grown shrewd.

  She said softly, to herself, “There is nothing in between, for Peter.”

  “And you will betray him as soon as you are able to see the shades of black.”

  She stood transfixed by his piercing stare. He hadn’t moved closer, but by some insidious means, he encroached. She felt his presence filling her, inky dark velvet and heavenly blue eyes. She had difficulty breathing.

  “I behold you at this moment,” Hook observed, “attempting to reconcile the twain. But according to Pan, all his deeds are light. Acting for what he believes to be good, he has never thought of consequences. He doesn’t even know the pain he causes.” Hook cast a gaze upon his claw, his lip curling. “The damage.”

  Wendy had already learned not to be distracted by his speech. But she must play for more time. “Damage… to you.”