For Everly: Chapter 4: The Treehouse & State Secrets

Peter talks as the scene changes around us. Trees pop out of the sand-turned-soil; huge oaks and royal maples and tall redwoods sprout where seaweed and dunes once sat.

"The secret to choosing a happy thought," he whispers as if he's sharing state secrets, "is to find the common factor in all your happy thoughts."

"So, like, I have to find something that's in every memory?" 

"Precisely!" Peter exclaims, then makes a face because, in his words, that word is "too grown-up," for his taste. "I'm using grown-up words, Everly," he sighs. "This is what happens when I spend too much time on the Mainland." 

But I don't hear him, because right before my eyes, a ghost from my pre-cancer days comes to life. A garden grows in a matter of seconds. The world's most gnarled oak tree builds a little house within its branches.  

"The treehouse," I whisper in awe. I have a good feeling this will be my happy thought. 

A carefree, cancer-less Everly, a toddling James and a slightly happier Peter race by us, carrying all manner of junk food, sodas, and a big bag of our favorite movies: Aladdin and Peter Pan for Peter, Hook and Finding Neverland for me, and Pocahontas for James. Mama watches us from the back porch, seeing right through me and Peter. 

Can I go in the treehouse if I'm not really here? I wonder. 

"Yes, of course, silly," Peter whispers, making me jump. Sometimes I forget how powerful Peter can be. I climb up the rope ladder, my hands and feet remembering every movement. 

Inside, throw pillows and fluffy (if dusty) rugs carpet the old wooden floor. A small table clings to one wall, and three little bean bags are occupied. Purple for Peter, green for me and blue for James. Our favorite colors, if I recall correctly. They've changed since then; Peter prefers orange now, I like lavender and James likes camouflage. I grin, feeling my face stretch in a way it never did in the hospital. 

A tiny portable DVD player, like the kind you'd put in your car for long, boring car rides, sits atop an ancient TV, which straddles a tall red step stool. 

Past Peter pops in Pocahontas first, because James is the youngest. 

"What do you love most about this memory, Everly?" Present Peter asks as the beginning previews roll. I know he knows but I also know he just wants me to say it. 

"That we're all together," I say automatically, walking around behind the three little kids. "And we're so carefree and happy." Peter nods. 

"Dad built this treehouse for me," I say, picking up a little pink pillow with my name stitched clumsily in red. "We expanded it after James was born." Peter nods again, with a laugh this time.

"I remember that," he chuckles. "Margaret called me from Neverland just to make sure he didn't hurt himself." I laugh, and it's a good laugh, the kind that lights up a room. 

"I was right in the middle of a great adventure, too," Peter continues, feigning a pout and crossing his  arms over his chest. Peter sits criss-cross in midair, and manages to keep a frown. I burst out laughing again, hard and full. 

"I had a mermaid in peril," Peter says, acting out his words in midair, "and James Hook at the end of my sword. Then, I hear Tink telling me to get my silly ass to the Mainland, that Maggie needs me." 

"Are you serious?"

Peter doesn't lie very often, but you can never be completely sure with him. Peter shrugs in response, leaving me to wonder. 

"I think we'd better go," he says, standing on solid ground and brushing himself off as if he'd just been sitting instead of flying. "We still have a bunch of happy thoughts to go through." 

I sigh but I take the hand he offers me with a smile. 

Peter snaps his fingers.