She sailed up the steps and over the heads of the pirates, flipping her wings and kicking her legs in an effort to spread as much pixie dust as she possibly could, covering every surface and pirate that she could reach. The air was thick with dust when she reached the end of the ship, and she was sure she wasn’t nearly as bright as usual—but she certainly had everyone’s attention.
Every head was turned her way, none of them looking at the back of the ship where she spotted Hook’s red coat as he hopped up on the railing. She flew around a bit more, making sure everyone’s attention was locked on her.
“Now,” she chimed as loudly as she could. “You all need to close your eyes and think a happy thought.”
Every eye closed and smiles spread on each face.
No one heard the splash or saw the captain as he swam away in a sea that no longer held a curse.
12
A Special Kind of Magic
ANA PRITCHARD STOOD on the balcony, gazing out at the sea where a ship had recently anchored. She pulled her shawl tight around her in an effort to stay warmer as the breeze picked up.
They were brave souls, she thought, watching as a black flag was lowered. She hadn’t seen a pirate ship so close in years—and certainly never one who waited until it was so close before hiding its colors. They were either brave, foolhardy, or perhaps a bit of both. Reckless.
Part of her ached as she gazed at the ship. It reminded her of him. She’d done everything she could to find him again—including moving herself and her small son to London when she’d learned her husband had joined Blackbeard’s crew, but even that hadn’t been enough. She’d been too late.
She’d gotten nothing for her efforts. Blackbeard’s ship had been lost at sea, her husband lying on the ocean floor.
And then she’d lost her son.
A tear trekked down her cheek as she thought of Jack. Twelve long years had passed since the night he had disappeared from his bed. Twelve long years of waiting, praying that somehow he would reappear in the place she had last seen him.
Unable to look at the ship any longer, she turned and walked back into the bedroom and sat in the rocking chair, leaving the window open. She always left the window open. Every night. Regardless of the cold, or the rain, or the snow. Every night for twelve years.
Others told her she was crazy and that she should move on and accept Jack’s fate, but she couldn’t. Something held her to this house, to this room, and somehow she knew he would come back to her one night. And so each night she slept in the rocking chair, hoping to awaken and find her son sleeping in the bed by her.
She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.
She dreamt of a tiny gold pixie filling the room with light and felt the familiar pressure of a hand taking hers. She smiled. She’d had many dreams of Jack taking her hand, though in all of them his hand had fit perfectly inside her own.
“Mother,” she heard a voice say softly. “Mother, I’m home.”
Her eyes sprang open and she looked into the face of the boy who knelt at her side. This dream had gone awry, she thought, because though the face was surely her Jack’s, it was in the face of a young man who smiled up at her. A beautiful young red-headed girl wearing pirate garb stood behind him, a sweet smile on her face, holding his other hand. A familiar golden charm hung on a necklace around her neck.
“Nessie.” The next voice brought tears to her eyes. Her dreams had always been haunted by him, but never had she heard his voice in them.
She looked at the window, where he stood, the moon behind him, and a golden pixie flitting above him, illuminating the space around him, showing her all of the many emotions that crossed his face.
“Nessie,” he said again, his voice cracking, “I’ve finally made it to ye, lass. And I promise on all that be holy that I’ll never leave ye again.”
The dream shattered as she stood up from the chair, gripping her grown son’s hand firmly in one hand, while the other reached for her husband. As he covered her face with kisses, she looked up at the pixie who skipped through the air as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
Ana smiled. She’d always thought that magic had taken her family away. It was a good thing that hope was a special kind of magic—because magic had brought them back again.
TINK WATCHED RUNT, the cook, the fish girl, and the woman make their way back to the ship. The woman mother had thanked her several times for bringing them to her. She was nothing at all like the mother girl, so the pixie somewhat understood why Runt had missed her so. She’d also felt the familiar surge of energy that happened when someone believed in her. Even though all of the pirates believed in her, the woman mother believed in her so much that the magic in Neverland should be strong for a very long time indeed. Maybe there wouldn’t be any need to bring more Lost Ones to Neverland.
Happy that half of her charges were taken care of and that she had more than enough magic to make it safely home, she stopped just long enough by the mother girl’s house to make sure the pirates had kept their word and taken them back.
A window in the upstairs room was lit, so she zipped up to it and spotted the girl’s familiar form and the two little boys who were getting into their beds.
All is as it should be, she decided. The ones who were supposed to be in Neverland were, and the ones who weren’t were back where they belonged, and the pixies had enough magic to keep them alive. Now it was time for her to go home.
The trip back to Neverland was a short one and she found Peter and her Lost Ones not far from where she had left them. When Peter saw her a smile, brighter than any she had ever seen, lit his face.
“I thought you’d left me for good, Tink. You’ve been gone so long and I’m so glad to see you!” he exclaimed as she flew over his head, sprinkling him with dust. A second later his feet left the ground and he flew into the air as easily as he had ever flown before.
I’m his happy thought! I’m his happy thought! she realized joyfully as she watched him zip around in the air, crowing as the Lost Ones below them shouted in excitement.
She still wasn’t sure exactly what family was, the thing that Peter had thought so important when she first brought him to Neverland. She’d wondered about it often, but now, she thought it might be a place—a happy, magical place that might be something like a home. She thought of the place that was home for her. It wasn’t Neverland. It was being with her Lost Ones where she was needed most—and it was on the shoulder of the boy she loved more than anything.
-The End-
More Stories by K.R. Thompson
The Keeper Saga:
Hidden Moon
Once Upon a Haunted Moon
Wynter’s War
Charmed
The Wolf
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http://www.krthompson.net
About the Author
K.R. Thompson lives in southwestern Virginia with her husband and son.
An avid reader and firm believer in the magic of books, she spends her nights either reading an adventure or writing one.
She still watches for evidence of Bigfoot in the mud of Wolf Creek.
Stay up to date with her new releases, book news, and more:
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thekeepersaga
www.krthompson.net
The Untold Stories of Neverland: The Complete Box Set Page 49