Love in Neverland: Book 2 in The Neverland Trilogy (19 page)

Chapter 19

Remy could still feel James’s lips on hers, searing a hole through her skin and laying claim on her mouth.  She was now in her room, staring back up at the ceiling, and she could still feel him linger on her.  His scent still lingered on her skin, was caught in her hair.  He smelled of bullet powder and salt and something reserved solely just him.  It was a unique smell but worked for him.

She still did not understand why he had kissed her.  Remy had replayed the whole thing over and over again, all through the night and this morning.  He had been upset about her taking the fact that she was alive for granted, that she had breath in her body, when he lunged for her and kissed her with ferociousness.  After the kiss, he had told her to get out, like it was her fault that he had kissed her at all, but she did not fight with him.  She wished she could say she made a graceful exit, but she stumbled, completely thrown off balance by his unexpected action.

Remy dared to look back at James, to see how he was reacting to this entire ordeal, but he gave nothing away.  His eyes were still cold and steely, his face passive.  But he was looking down at his maps, and his hand covered his lips.  And she could swear she saw his long fingers trembling.  Before she could study it any further, she reached the door and had to leave.

That kiss was filled with passion.  That was the passion Remy wanted.  It kept her up all night.  Her thoughts were not cohesive.  They were jumbled and confusing, and she had no idea what she was feeling or how she was supposed to be feeling.

All she knew was that she wanted to do it again.  And not just kiss, but kiss James Hook, a man feared by souls all throughout The Neverland, a man with one hand, a Viking who claimed he could not feel.  It did not matter that Remy didn’t believe him because he believed himself.  She did not think she could change him, but certainly, something stirred in him because of that kiss.

Remy would not kiss just anyone, either.  Physical displays of affection, to her, were reserved for someone special

Did that mean James was special to her?

She did not know and could not say.  She was not sure if she was ready to think more thoroughly on that matter.  It frightened her.  These feelings she had been avoiding previously crashed to the forefront of her mind, and she could not stop the onslaught of them if she tried.  If she wanted to.  And she was not certain that she did.

A knock on the door caused her heart to jump, and for a piercing  moment of excitement, she thought it might be James. Perhaps they could talk about what had transpired between them and what it meant. Maybe they could even see where things would go, if they wanted to. Remy paused in her line of thinking, still ignoring the knock. Was that something she wanted? Did she want to figure out what happened and why it happened? Did she want to go down that road and open her heart up to possibilities she had never even though if before?

"Y-yes?" Remy was not sure why her voice cracked, why it came out shakier than usual. She sat up and stared at the door, not sure if she still hoped it was James. Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself. Perhaps she was thinking too much on it. She needed more time to process everything before she made any firm decisions.

"It's Pam," Pam announced, causing Remy to sit up straighter. "May I come in?"

Remy paused, and she felt her entire insides pool with guilt because of it. She and James had never come to a resolution regarding Pam, if she was the one for Peter Pan's assignment as dock master at James's personal docks, indirectly (or directly, depending on how involved she truly was) assuaging a man intent on kidnapping Remy. There was no proof of Pam's guilt, of course. Everything at the point was pure conjecture. That was probably why Remy replied with, "Yes, of course." When Pam walked into the room, Remy forced a bright smile and said, "And how are you today, Pam? The weather's nice, isn't it?"

Pam gave Remy an odd look, probably because it was pretty obvious how fake her smile was, probably because the weather was not nice but grey and overcast, indicating a storm would hit, and soon. However, whatever the reason for Pam's look, she chose to refrain from mentioning it and instead, headed straight for the wardrobe.

"Captain Hook asked me to clear out the clothes," Pam explained, after opening the double-doors. "Did you do something to upset him?"

Remy felt her entire face flush. Was he punishing her for the kiss? Because if she remembered correctly, he kissed her first. She just chose to kiss him back. "Not that I'm aware if," she says in a voice that she hoped was convincing enough to be nonchalant. "Why? Did he say anything?"

Pam's odd look returned. Her forehead wrinkled and she stared at Remy from the side of her eyes for a moment too long before shaking her head and returning her gifts back on the task at hand. "The captain does not have to explain his orders," she told Remy. "I do as he tells me to."

Her words caused Remy to pause, and an idea took hold of her thoughts so quickly she had to control the look of glee that would otherwise have tainted her face and ruined everything. Instead, she cleared her throat. "You're quite good at your job, Pam," she said, and Remy was genuine in her analysis of the young girl. "Even when I was alive, you were better than any hand handmaiden I had."

Sorry, Bea
, she thought to herself,
but I'm lying for good reason. You know you'll always be my only handmaiden
.

"I-I am?" Pam looked taken aback by the praise but her cheeks burned. She could not hide the fact that she was pleased with it if she tried. She looked down at the clothes in her arms, letting the words sink in, as if she had never heard anything nice before.

"You are," Remy told her with a firm nod and a soft smile. "Do you doubt yourself?"

"No, I" - she stopped herself and looked back at the clothes in her arms.

"You've never been complimented before, have you?" Remy asked, her voice gentle.

Pam's eyes flashed with quick anger and she dropped the clothes in a pile on the floor. "I don't require your sympathy," she snapped.

"I'm sorry," Remy said quickly. "I wasn't trying to come across as condescending in any way. I was only telling you what I see as fact. You are a gem, Pam. I only feel as comfortable here because of you. You've given me a hard time, but it's rightly deserved. You've forced me to grow up, essentially. And I'm grateful for that."

Pam's body eased. She dropped to her knees to pick up the clothes, and Remy dropped down to help her. The action nearly caused Pam to stumble over herself. She seemed surprised that Remy would actually bend down and pick something up.

"May I ask now what happened to you here?" she asked, her voice tentative. She held her breath, waiting for Pam's outburst, waiting for her to say no and to run off with half of Magda's clothes in her arms. "I just don't understand how anything would happen to you. You seem so strong and sure, so bold. You're younger than I am but I feel as though you surpass me in years and experience." She rolled her shoulders back and placed a bashful look on her face. "And I find myself flushing at even admitting that to you." She chuckled. "Am I as pathetic as I look?"

Pam did not look at Remy. She looked at the clothes, at her thighs hidden underneath her grey skirt, at the back of her hands resting on her thighs. She was contemplating something, Remy realized. And she hoped Pam would come to the conclusion that she wanted to share her story with Remy.

And then:

"I was taken." Pam's voice was so quiet Remy had to lean forward so she could hear. Pam's eyes had gone back down to her lap, and her bangs fell into her face. It was as though she wore a mask now, something she could hide behind. "I was still alive. A boy came through my bedroom window, my age. I was entranced. He seemed nice. He promised me a world of fun, where I wouldn't have to worry about marrying or dresses or how a proper young lady should behave. Where I did not have to worry about the pressure and expectations of being an adult woman in high society. He promised me a dream come true. He taught me how to fly."

"Who is this person?" Remy asked before she could stop herself. "He sounds wonderful."

"He is," she agreed with a nod of her head. "But this place is not."

Is
.

Pam’s choice of diction caused Remy to pause. 
Is. 
Not was, but is.  Which meant there was a good chance she still kept in contact with him.  That, or Pam believed that he was still good, even to this day.  But that did not sound like something Pam would say.  In fact, Remy believed Pam would not say someone was good if she did not know him.  Which meant at the very least the two were friends.

Now, Remy knew absolutely nothing about Peter Pan.  She had no idea if he could fly – the idea that a boy could fly seemed as ridiculous as it sounded – or if he could teach others to fly.  She did know that even Breathers in The Neverland did not age though she had no idea what happened to them once they were returned back to earth. 
If
they were returned.  Whether their age caught up with them the minute they got back, or if they started aging only when they got back.  At the moment, it was not one of Remy’s concerns.  But once she found a way to leave, it most certainly would be.

Remy cleared her throat, another tactic taking over her mind.  “Look, Pam,” she said, trying to get her voice to sound teasing and light.  “It appears as though you are blushing.  Do you fancy this mystery boy?”

Pam was actually not blushing, but now she was.  However, instead of smiling and playing back, she seemed angry and offended.

“I am not blushing,” she insisted.  “I assure you I am not.  Peter is an amazing boy, but I do not favor him.  I’ve seen girls my age do that and always end up with their hearts broken or something similar.  I like my heart, thank you very much, and I only plan to give it to someone who has no intention of breaking it.”

There we go
, Remy thought with a smirk. 
Peter.  She said Peter
.

There was only one Peter who fit the criteria she had laid out before her: Peter Pan.

“Of course,” Remy said with a nod of her head.  It would appear as though Pam had not even realized she slipped up and said his name.  Which was definitely a good thing because it meant that Remy did not have to pretend to not know Pan’s first name or anything similar.  “Where are you taking the clothes?”  The best course of action now was to change the subject, make her forget she talked about anything in the first place.  “You never told me.”

Pam blinked, slightly caught off-guard by the question.  However, she did not comment on it.  “Oh,” she said, looking back at the clothes she had gathered in her arms.  If Remy did not help her, Pam would have to make at least three trips on her own.  “To the captain’s quarters.  He wants you close in case he needs to protect you.”  Pam suddenly realized the implications of this and added, “Nothing more.”

Remy nodded her head and bit her bottom lip. She needed to look passive. She needed to seem completely and resolutely disinterested in everything Pam had told her at the very least.

"I'm going to take this bundle then," Pam announced as she stood up, a pile of clothes in her arms. They were not folded nearly or even in an easy formation for her to carry it. However, she had as many clothing as she could, and if the material wrinkled that was something that could easily be fixed. "Unless there is anything else you need from me?"

Remy continued to stay silent. However, she shook her head and forced a bright smile that certainly looked out of place on her face. Although a curious look touched Pam's features, she did not question Remy and headed to the door.

"Let me get that for you!" she all but screeched, jumping up to stand and dashing across the small room. When she reached the door, she threw it open. "Do you need me to get James's door?"

"No..." Pam continued to give Remy an odd look. "Is everything okay, Ms. Cutler? You seem out of sorts."

"I guess I'm just not fond of the idea of being on a ship again," she said, and her words were honest more than anything.

She did not want to be on a ship anymore, especially a ship that was a target for attacks. Was James more vulnerable on the water than he was in The Other World? Did it matter? If people knew James was out, would The Other World be vulnerable for attacks? Who was in charge when James wasn't there? There were so many questions and not enough answers. She hadn't even thought of them until now, after Pam had left her all alone in her room.