"Yes, actually," he said. Even Sam looked surprised by the admission. "I think I'm in love but considering I've never been in love before, I can't say for certain whether I'm right or not."
"And who's the lucky lady?" Sam asked, using his tape measure on one of James's arms before making notes.
"She's not from this place," James replied. "She's different. She's beautiful and intelligent and clever. She knows her place in life but with that knowledge comes the ability to work around her place in order to achieve whatever she wants."
"So what's the trouble?" Sam asked. "Because it sounds like you have everything figured out."
"I'm not sure if it's love," James admitted. "And I'm not sure if she feels the same way for me in return."
"May I be bold, Capt'n?" Sam asked with his twinkling dark eyes. He placed his hands on James's shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkles that accumulated there.
"Of course, Sam," James said with a firm nod of his head. "I welcome it from you."
"It sounds like you've already figured it out," Sam said, taking a step back and looking at him through the mirror. "It sounds like you already know whether this is love or not. But your findings conflict with something else."
James was silent for a long moment. "Yes," he said with a nod of his head. "Remy is incredibly important to my goal. However, using her in such a way all but guarantees that she will be unable to return home, back on earth. She's a Breather, you see. A very special, very important Breather."
"So there's your dilemma," Sam said, pressing his lips together and nodding his head in understanding. "Does she want to return home? This Remy lady?"
"Yes," James said. "I think, more than anything."
"And you need her to acquire" -
"I need her in multiple ways," James said. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. "I need her to get what I've wanted since before I can remember. Yet, I don't know if I can go through with it, knowing it would prevent her from getting what she wants."
Inwardly, James growled. He was a fool if he was anything. She slipped past his defenses to the point where he now questioned whether or not he wanted to use her in the first place. He was getting soft. And he hated himself for it. How dare she? How dare he? How dare he even contemplate not going through with it? Was she really worth sacrificing this? Some girl he'd probably never see again after she left? After she returned home? She would probably never remember him, once back in her life, once she was safely back home. Most likely, she would get married to a man she did not love and have children - boys, if she could help it, and perhaps a girl. She would be well-taken care of because her husband would be rich. She was beautiful, so that would also help her. But her attitude... He clenched his jaw and looked away. Her attitude would be warrant to get reprimanded, either verbally or physically. The mere thought of anyone punishing her in such a way caused his blood to boil.
"Capt'n?" Sam asked, and it was only then that James realized Sam had been speaking to him.
"Yes?" he asked, perking his brow.
"What're you going to do?" Sam asked. "About your dilemma?"
Eight
Magda loved to shop. It was not something she was proud of, but it did not matter. She loved hearing the clink of her coins in her pockets, letting her know she had money to spend. She loved the smell of new clothes – fresh and clean, a little like spring and not like the musky, heavy, retching scent that permeated the clothes she took to sea with her and could not wash often – and how friendly and helpful the saleswomen were. She loved buying something that made her feel beautiful because she never really had an opportunity to feel beautiful very often.
She had a shop she liked here on Tenedor. It was not the fanciest place, but she would argue the dresses were second to none and the women who worked there were the nicest women she had ever met. They were knowledgeable in their craft and knew what colors, what cuts, and what materials worked best for her body type and skin coloring.
It was a mile away from the docks, deep in the heart of the town. It was a small shop compared to those that surrounded it, and Magda walked past it the first few times of shopping. However, now that she knew where it was, she never walked past it again. It was crammed between a butcher’s shop and a furniture shop. The streets were always busy, filled with traffic, and the tiny shop – Dresses for Misses – usually had at least three other customers shopping at any given time.
When she entered the shop, a bell hung from ribbon on the handle of the inside of the door rang, alerting the women a new customer walked in.
“Magdalena!” one of the girls – no more than thirteen – said with a smile.
Magda tried to avoid girls, no matter how friendly they were. They reminded Magda of her little sister, Cheree, and she would feel her heart clench together painfully and tears to accumulate in her eyes. She refused to let them fall, but she knew they were there, reminding her of a life she promised to forget. A life she wanted no reminder of.
You realize it was not Cheree’s fault, a voice in her head reminded her. It was your mother who gave you up after your wings were plucked. Cheree had nothing to do with it. And, you never know. What if her wings were plucked as well? What if she’s been outcast from the community? What if-
Magda forced a smile and put her thoughts on hold. She could not – would not – think about Cheree right now. She had a pocket full of coins and a dress she needed to purchase. She needed to focus on her life, not wonder about Cheree’s.
Magda shook her head, ridding herself of her thoughts of her family. She couldn't think about them now. Not when there was so much that needed to be done. Not when she needed to focus. She wanted to see them again, she knew that, even her mother who had so callously abandoned her to James and his crew without knowing a thing about him. But she had moved past that. It had been so long.
As she looked around at the premade dresses, she couldn't help but wonder how Nick would look at her if he saw her in something like this. It was a silly, romantic notion that she wanted to banish from her being immediately because it was too romantic and too hopeful for her own good. Who cared what Nick thought of her? She shouldn't be dressing for him or anyone else for that matter, she should be dressing for herself. But the thing was, Magda would pick a dress that flattered her best. There was no question of that in her mind. But she did want Nick to think she was beautiful in an outfit she felt beautiful in. She wanted him to notice her - to really and truly notice who she was and what she looked like - and realize that she was worth risking it all for. Because she felt that way about him. She knew what it was like to be afraid of love. She had been in denial of her feelings for Nick for a long while. She understood what Nick was going through. But she would not force him to make a decision regarding them before he was ready. She also would not wait around for him for very much longer. Love like this was not common, Magda knew that, but she also knew she was not common and she was worth more than what he was giving right now. He could be sweet and stare at her when he did not think she was looking and give her his patented charm smile, but that would not move her if he did not make his move. She required a man who took action, even if it scared him, not a man who ran away from what he was afraid of.
"Magdalena," a voice said from behind her. The fairy turned and found the owner of the shop, Madame Clarise, looking at her with twinkling blue eyes and a friendly smile. Magda felt all of her troubles disappear under her warm gaze and she could not help but return Clarise's smile with a small one of her own. "I have not seen you in such a long while. How are you, my dear?"
Her French accent was almost nonexistent in a predominantly English port. She was waiting for her sister and her nieces to pass on before transitioning to her final resting place and loved sewing and designing. Magda considered her a friend, which was how she knew so much about Clarise, and always delighted in seeing the older woman. She had a maternal quality about her, one Magda felt absent in her life, and Clarise always had a knack for selecting the best dress
for her coloring and shape.
"I take it you are going to the Masquerade?" she asked. At Magda's reluctant nod, Clarise beamed. "Why do you not take more pride in who you are, beautiful girl? Any excuse I have to dress you the way you deserve gives me pleasure I cannot even measure! Come, come." She flicked her wrist and waved Magda to the back. "I'll have Shawne set you up in the back with a room. Amelia will get you some tea while a fetch some dresses I'm still working on in the back. Come! We are going to make a day of this, mon ami, and I promise you by the end of the day, we will have a perfect dress for you!"
Clarise's enthusiasm was contagious and Magda felt her grin turn into a full-fledged smile despite herself.
The women at the shop helped Magdalena forget her worries for the next few hours. They drank tea and gossiped about their lives and the men in it. Magda usually had nothing to add to the conversation but she would listen and make comments where she saw fit. She did not have experience when it came to love, and as she listened to the women air out their dirty laundry, she thanked the Lord she did not have to deal with the same experiences - men who would steal, men who would pretend to love only to get something in return, men who cheated, men who went away and never came back, men who were abusive and treated their women like property. Now, however, she could add to the conversation and she was not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Because she did love Nick. Even now. And as pathetic as it sounded, if he came up to her and told her he loved her too, he was sorry for making her wait but he didn't want to wait any longer, he wanted to be with her and touch her and hold her hand and kiss her face, she would forgive him instantly. She would forget the pain because the pleasure would be too great to remember something so trivial.
To be honest, it made her feel stupid. Completely idiotic. How could she give this man so much power over her and her actions when he clearly did not deserve it? There was a good chance he would take advantage of the situation and that was the last thing she wanted, especially from him. To be made a fool. However, she worried that she already was. She worried that it was too late because she told him she loved him already and she knew he felt the same way in return but instead of doing anything about it, he ran away. He avoided the situation. He avoided her. He pretended nothing happened. He was fine while she was a mess.
Because she was a complete mess. Maybe on the outside, she was okay. But inside, inside she was a wreck and she hated all of the feelings that went along with love. She hated the heavy ache in her chest, like she was stabbed and couldn't heal and that throbbing that would now just be there with her for the rest of her life. She hated the excitement she still felt at the prospect of seeing him even though he was the last person she wanted to see, and when she did see him, she hated the disappointment she felt in the pit of her stomach when he actively avoided her. She hated everything that went along with love, that went along with loving Nick. She did not want this anymore. She wanted it out of her system. She wanted to be free.
And she would be.
Magdalena shared everything with the women. She laughed and cried and said everything she had to say. Because, she decided, once she walked through those doors and away from this shop, she would be finished. She would actively move on from Nick and the feelings she had for him. There was no point in figuring out how long she must wait or what was going on with Nick if he wouldn't communicate with her. She was tired of the games, of the lies, of the hope she would feel constantly only to be let down. She hated the disappointment. She wanted to be free of it all, to be free of him.
It was not ideal, but it was necessary for her survival. She refused to wait around for a man to rescue her. It would be difficult but she was adamant against waiting for someone, especially someone who had yet to prove he was worth the wait. If Nick could not even tell her how he felt, could not put into words what he wanted, she would not wait for him.
The thing was, Nick told her he loved Remy. Then, later, standing on The Punisher's mast in the pouring rain, he had told her something, something that might completely contradict it. She hadn't heard him and he promised he would tell her later, when the time was right. Time had passed and he had yet to say anything. In fact, if Magda was being honest, it appeared as though he was avoiding her. Which didn't make any sense, because he seemed so eager to tell her something.
Magda shook her head. She couldn't go down that road. She couldn't think about things like what if she had heard him or what if he had told her what he said. She refused to justify his behavior or give him excuses. Refused to play the victim and feel sorry for herself. She didn't know much about love. To be honest, she didn't know much of it at all. She didn't know how to behave, what was appropriate what was not. She didn't know anything thing. What she did know was how she felt and she knew she didn't like feeling what she was currently feeling. She didn't deserve to feel this way.
But she couldn't just stand around and wait for Nick to figure it out, either. It wasn't fair to her. And she wouldn't do it. Her time was a precious commodity and she would not let herself waste it by waiting and hurting and thinking about what could have been if her life had been fair and turned out the way she wanted it.
Life in Neverland was never fair. That was why they called it Neverland. Magda had figured that out the hard way. She refused to wallow in self-pity. She did not want to be a victim of her circumstances. As such, she started to think about how to move on, how to resolve this issue so she didn't have to think about this anymore. Neverland did not get to dictate the outcome of her life, she did. And she would. Especially when it concerned matters of her heart. She would go to Nick and give him one last chance to tell her everything, to tell her what he meant when he didn't love Remy anymore, when he told her Magda had ruined everything. When he told her it was her. If he decided to take that chance, she would consider his words and figure out what to do. If he did not, she would smile, she would thank him, and she would move on.
That was it.
She would fight for Nick but only for so long. She needed to fight for herself as well.
When she finished the fitting, Madame Clarise let her know that she would send the gown to the Jolly Roger the next day. Payment for it was already arranged. Magda thanked them profusely for their help - because they helped more than they realized - and was on her way. She shoved her hands in her breeches and kept her head down, trying not to attract any unwarranted attention. Fairies had this ability to be seen – whether they had their wings or not – and while people did not follow them the way they followed Remy, fairies were stared at, sometimes harassed. People didn’t know they were fairies, but they knew they were different, and sometimes, that didn’t bode well for fairies. It was why they stayed in such tightly-knit communities. It was why being shunned from said community was the worst thing that could happen to a fairy.
Except Lizzie. But Lizzie was the exception that proved the rule.
Adrenaline was pumping through her veins the way heat pumped from the sun. She was going to see Nick, and that was all there was to it. She would get an answer from him, force him to make a decision, once a for all.
It was not long before she reached the docks, and it only took another ten minutes to get back to the Jolly Roger. Once James returned from his fitting, they would have the evening to plan for tomorrow, and then they’d be on their way.
Which meant, in Magda’s head, she needed to talk to Nick now.
Nine
Magda was not afraid when she returned to the ship. She was determined. She was ready to get this over with and show Nick her full hand. Put the cards on the table, as they say.
When she returned, the deck of the ship was empty. The sailors were on Tenedor, getting supplies, indulging in pleasure, and doing anything else they couldn’t do on a ship. There would be three straight days of sailing before they arrived on the islandl, so Magda could not blame them for wanting to remain off the ship for as long as possible. However, their absence gave her the privacy she pre
ferred, especially if she was to talk to Nick out in the open rather than somewhere secluded, like her bedroom. She did not want Nick to get the wrong idea but she also did not want to air matters of the heart so publically. Luckily, no one was there. Except for Nick, standing at the helm of the ship.
Her heart leaped to her throat. She wasn’t surprised. But she was nervous. And his brown eyes – those warm brown eyes – were looking at her with something in them, something she had never seen in them before. She could decipher it, but it resembled regret, perhaps even wistfulness.
Magda swallowed. She knew he knew she was looking at him. For some reason, she could not seem to look away. Then again, neither could he. Instead, she felt the pull of him tug at her to go to him. Her feet could not disobey, and before she knew it, she was standing before him, a few feet away.
Her eyes took in the sight of him. Magda did not hide her thorough study of him. She was not ashamed of the pleasure she took in his appearance. He was still tall – towering over her in all of his height and muscle. He reminded her of a statue made of the finest marble available by the best sculptor in the world. Everything about him reeked of perfection, except, perhaps, his nose, which jutted from his face and gave it character. His skin was still a warm brown – like his eyes – from being in the sun for too long. His shoulders were broad, his arms long and filled. He wore a grey tunic that was not tucked into black breeches, and his favorite pair of boots. His dark hair was hair was short and messy, and constantly fell into his face. The wind seemed to like to tousle it, and Magda could not say she blamed the element in the least. The lower half of his angled face was covered in dark whiskers, a scruff that cloaked his face in another layer of masculinity. Looking at him hurt.
Life in Neverland: Book 3 of The Neverland Trilogy Page 6