Eden shakes her head. “The only way to get in, to do it without being seen, is through the window. Someone has to fly.”
“Well then,” Jane says. She turns to Eden. “What do you suggest, my child?”
Chapter Forty-One
You can’t be serious,” Holly says. “There’s no way I’m letting her go.”
“I don’t think you have a choice. You can’t make her take you, after all,” Jane points out. “And from what she’s said, calling in Christopher before you have Jack in hand may make the situation worse. At least hear her out.”
Eden’s plan is simple. She’ll fly with Bell to where Jack is. They’ll watch until it’s safe to bring him back to the Darling house and deposit him with Holly, calling Christopher to handle Peter once they’re clear.
“I can save him,” Eden insists. “I’m the only one who can do it.”
There are so many things that can go wrong with this plan, so many ways Eden can get hurt. Holly starts to argue, to push back. But then she sees the look on her daughter’s face and it crushes her. It’s not the look of a thirteen-year-old arguing with her mother. It’s an adult face, wise beyond its years, weary beyond all words but still fighting for what is right.
Holly takes a deep breath. But Eden isn’t done.
“Bell has a way to save me too. She can guide me to Neverland if we can get away from Peter. She thinks that once I’m there, the aging will stop.”
“Neverland isn’t what you think,” Holly says, alarmed. She recalls Peter’s words, about the others waiting there, and shudders. A young, feral army of his own making.
“I know. Bell’s told me. But what choice do I have? If I stay here, there’s no chance at all. Bell agreed to take me with her, but she can’t make it that far on her own. Not yet. She’s still sick from him, from what he made her carry. So, I need something from you.”
“Anything.” Holly will give her daughter the moon and the sky, she’ll wrap it in a ribbon cut from her own heart if that’s what it takes to save her, but what Eden wants isn’t nearly so easy.
“What do you need?” Jane asks.
“A picture,” Eden says. “One of only me. A talisman that will remind me of a happy memory strong enough to guide me home. Not home to London or to Cornwall, but to where Bell says I really belong. Neverland.”
“And what’s in this for her?” Holly says, wounded.
“She wants to go home too,” Eden says. “She’s been here too long, and she doesn’t like it anymore. And she doesn’t like Peter. She doesn’t trust him. She trusts me. If there’s two of us, working together, she thinks we can tame Neverland again, the way Hook did.” She looks at Holly with those bright blue eyes. “He was always the one, the guardian all along. But you know that now, don’t you?”
Holly nods. “What happened to him?” she whispers.
“Bell says he sank beneath the waves and disappeared. But no one in Neverland ever really dies, not really. They just turn up in a different place, she says.”
Holly thinks of Peter’s words. Shadows and shades. The Christopher she’s kissed fits neither of those descriptions. He’s as real and solid as can be. But then, so is Peter.
“Mama?” Eden says. “Did you hear me?”
Her daughter is standing in front of her, patiently waiting, a miracle all its own, right here and now. Holly reaches out and clasps her hand.
“I said if we do that, if we can keep control, there’s a chance I could come back. To visit. But I need a picture.”
A chance to keep her safe. And see her again. Holly leaps at it.
“The one by Jack’s bed?” she suggests.
Eden shakes her head. “Jack is in that. Even his happiest memories have pain in them.”
“Pain?”
“Not just physical pain,” Eden says. “Deeper. There’s a piece of him missing. Just because you ignore something doesn’t make it disappear.”
Isaac, Holly realizes. To have a second self and then lose him must be a little like losing your shadow. And maybe that half-memory, that yearning, is why Jack pushes boundaries, takes risks. When part of you is dead, the other part might do anything to feel alive.
“Perhaps one with the two of you?” Jane suggests, drawing Holly back. Holly racks her brain, but she knows how unlikely it is. To find a memory of Eden—let alone a photo—that involves sheer joy is a herculean task. Even Holly’s best memories are tinged with shadows: guilt over sleeping with Peter, worry over Jack. Any moments she spent alone with Eden likely came because Jack was in hospital, recovering from yet another surgery. No matter where Holly was or what she did, it was never the right place or the right thing. She was always wishing she were somewhere else.