Borrowing Time

By Hannah Carter

Peter had thought dying would be an awfully big adventure.

But not like this. Not when he wasn’t the one staring it in the eye.

He couldn’t let Jane face death without him, because he couldn’t face life without her.

He watched her chest rise and fall, her breathing labored and ragged. Just minutes before, she’d begged him for one last bedtime story.

“And make it about fairies, Daddy, please,” she’d whispered. “I like the ones about Tinker Bell best.”

Except she’d fallen asleep before he’d told her how he met Tink for the first time. And now he scrubbed at his face, still damp with tears, as he flicked off the lamplight.

“Stand guard, Shadow.” He nodded to the darkest splotch on the wall. “Don’t let anything hurt her.”

Shadow saluted, although his shoulders sagged.

Both Peter and Shadow knew the real threat to Jane was inside her, growing, festering—some menacing illness Peter couldn’t fight off. Death sidled closer to her with every tick-tock of the croc’s clock.

Peter stumbled out of the nursery, numb and empty, as if he had no more substance than Shadow. He crossed to the table where Wendy sat, her hands cradling her head as her brown curls tumbled down around her.

She took a steadying breath as he approached. “The doctor said she won’t survive the week.” Wendy raised her head, red-rimmed eyes locking with Peter’s. “He suggested, very kindly, that we might want to look into… into funeral arrangements.”

Her shoulders heaved, and her head collapsed back into her hands as her body quaked. “I can’t, Peter. I can’t plan a funeral for our baby girl.”

Peter’s world swayed, and he grabbed onto a wooden chair to steady himself. But that didn’t help, and his knees buckled.

Growing up was supposed to be the grand adventure. Loving Wendy—and then Jane—had been the only thing that called him to adulthood. To leave Neverland and all its appeal behind.

The best thing about adventures was that they weren’t supposed to end.

Especially not in a week.

Not enough time with his baby girl.

Eight years wasn’t even enough time.

“Peter, what are we going to do?” Wendy’s voice hitched with every sob. She crawled out of her chair and onto the floor next to him.

He wrapped his arms around her. He needed more time.

They needed more time.

Memories of his own childhood flew through his mind, and the light of an idea flashed, bright as Tinker Bell.

One place promised all the time in the world.

“Wendy…” Peter’s voice cracked. “We could… take her somewhere else.”

Wendy’s fingers tightened on his shoulder. “Do you mean…?”

“I know the way back,” he whispered. “Second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning.”

“No, Peter. No. We-we left. We agreed that never growing up… well, it wasn’t right.” She reached up to touch his face—a face marred by stubble, by laugh lines, and by sorrow.

“It wasn’t right for us because we had more time.” Peter cupped her hand with his. “We had more adventures. Jane has no time. Neverland… Neverland is her only adventure.”

Peter never liked lingering on sadder emotions, even as a child. They ruined the fun, after all. But now, he felt them all acutely. Despair for his daughter. A shared grief with his wife. And a poignant nostalgia for the sweet days of childhood, when he knew nothing of the world beyond mermaids, pirates, fairies, and Lost Boys. Endless summer-drenched memories which now held a bittersweet edge in his mind.

“Come on, Wendy. It’ll only take a little trust.” He kissed her forehead and forced himself up from the floor. Together, they headed back to Jane’s bed.

Her slight, sick frame stirred as he brushed thin curls away from her forehead. Green eyes fluttered open, and a hint of smile crossed her pale lips. “G’morning, Daddy.”

“It’s not morning, Jane,” he chuckled, though his heart felt like Hook had split it in two. “Mama and I want to show you someplace special.”

He scooped up her delicate body and hugged her against his chest. She felt so light, hardly more than a fairy herself as Peter moved closer to the open window.

Beside him, Shadow danced across the walls, a tiny brown bag in his hand.

“You sly sneak,” Peter said as he took the bag of memories from Shadow. “You weren’t supposed to know where this was.”

Shadow tipped a make-believe hat in Peter’s direction.

Peter untied the string. Inside rested an acorn, a feather from the Neverbird, a thimble “kiss,” and—

“Pixie dust.” A burst of wistfulness filled his veins. “Jane, do you remember what it takes to fly?”

“Faith, trust, and pixie dust.” Jane yawned. “And lots of lovely thoughts.”

“Yes.” Peter smoothed her hair away from her tired eyes. “Why don’t you think of some lovely thoughts?” He tilted his head toward Wendy, who came over and sprinkled the golden dust over them all.

“Picnics,” Jane murmured. “Mama’s hugs and goodnight kisses. And your stories, Daddy.”

On the wings of lovely childhood thoughts, their feet began to lift off the nursery floor.

A tinkling sound filled the air. The music of fairies, and a certain fairy in particular.

Peter smiled. “How would you like to meet Tink, Jane?”

“Oh, yes,” Jane whispered, her voice cracking. Her eyes glowed brighter, despite the dark bags under them. “Please, Daddy!”

“Then here we go.”

With a wild crow call reminiscent of his own youth, Peter Pan leapt out of the nursery window with Jane and Wendy, once more soaring through the London sky. Second star to the right, straight on ‘til morning, and right to the promise of Neverland.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hannah Carter is just a girl who wakes up every day hoping it will be the day she discovers she’s secretly a mermaid. Her debut novel, Depths of Atlantis, is out through SnowRidge Press now. Her stories have been included in several anthologies: Whispers From Before, The Never Tales, and Havok’s Casting Call and Prismatic. Her flash fiction piece, “A Home for Nova,” won the 2022 Flash Fiction Realm Award.

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