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unseen forces at work.
    If one were to look toward the Neverlands, a certain island would appear to be waking up. Through the mist, we can just glimpse the first stirrings of spring after an interminable, frozen winter. Furthermore, Wendy and Peter are not unknown to one another, even if both have forgotten and remain quite ignorant of their previous acquaintance. Despite thinking themselves strangers, each felt as if they had danced a hundred dances and shared a summer’s worth of conversation with the other.
    And now that we understand the way of it, let us draw closer to discover what each makes of this most fortuitous encounter.
    At Peter’s urging, Griffin took up a permanent station in the stage left wing. From that position he could observe Wendy and report to Peter between scenes.
    It was from that vantage Peter had been waiting with his brother just prior to curtain, when Mr. Frohman made his announcement. “Ladies and Gentlemen, the part of D’Artagnon will be played by Peter…uh…Peter…um…” Having forgotten Peter’s surname he glanced helplessly toward the brothers.
    But before Griffin could say Smythe, Peter blurted out, “Neverland.”
    Flustered, Frohman continued, “Neverland—Peter Neverland, who will be making his stage debut.”
    Griffin raised his dark eyebrows whispering, “Neverland?”
    “A stage name, Brother. In case of disaster, I would hate for this to reflect on Father.” At the moment of decision it had popped into his mind, unbidden. And although he could not articulate his reasons, he rather liked the name. It felt exotic and comfortable at the same time, like a well-loved treasure from abroad.
    As the curtain rose, Peter looked to Wendy in the audience. Putting his hand on his heart, he sighed heavily. “Look how she leans forward in anticipation.”
    Actors began taking the stage while Peter listened anxiously for his cue. His hand slipped automatically into his right pocket searching for his good luck charm. Superstitiously, he lifted it to his mouth and kissed it. “Oh love, do not fail me nor forsake me.” His cue. Tucking the talisman safely away, he took up his destiny center stage.
    Three hours later, he returned to the same spot to consult Griffin. He’d been so greatly heartened by his brother’s reports between scenes that during the curtain call he had openly held Wendy’s celestial gaze. His bows had been for her alone.  
    Although responsive throughout the play, his Wendy now seemed distraught. She did not stand with the house, in fact she hardly moved. Instead, she examined him with such intensity that Peter felt she was trying to see into his very soul.
    Even after the curtain closed, Peter continued to watch Wendy from the shadows trying to guess the meaning of her reserved, unexpected reaction. “Why does she not move? She did seem to enjoy the play, did she not, Griffin?”
    “Aye, Peter, she did.”
    “And did she not laugh, smile, cry, and cheer in earnest?”
    “In truth, as I have told you, she did all those things.”
    “Then why does she yet sit there so pale? Oh Griffin, perhaps she is ill.”
    “Peter!” Mr. Boucicault’s booming voice resounded from backstage. “Peter! Where are you? Everyone is waiting to congratulate you!”
    Peter bit his cheek in agitation. “Griffin, will you please go tell everyone that I will be there presently?”
    “Aye, Peter.”
    In the stillness, Peter watched, astounded, as a subdued Wendy was led away by her companion and the head of ushers. Her departure left him feeling unsettled and vaguely bereft, as if his life had been placed on pause.
    Completely alone, he slipped his good luck charm out of his right pocket and lifted it to his lips. When he awoke on the doorstep of Smythe and Sons, it was the sole possession on his person and he was never without it. Like him, it was a mystery. To Peter, the talisman was what he wished on—where he stored his hopes and dreams—but to others it was just a