PART I - REMEMBRANCE
Shattered Glass (Spring 1945)
"Are you all right, Su?
Susan jerked her head up from where she had been stirring her soggy, unidentifiable breakfast in its bowl to find that Edmund was studying her from across the kitchen table. Next to him, Lucy had also stopped eating and was scrutinizing Susan; a frown creased the thirteen-year-old girl's face.
"I'm fine," Susan replied. She lifted a spoonful of the muck, only to let it plop back into the bowl. Was it her imagination, or was this rationed food only getting more disgusting?
Their mother chose that moment to rush through the kitchen on her way to the back door, hastily buttoning the top of her formless factory uniform.
"Susan, aren't you a little old to be playing with your food?" Helen chastised.
Susan rolled her eyes and didn't answer. Helen bent to kiss Lucy's cheek, patted Edmund's head, and nodded to Susan, saying, "We're expecting Peter for dinner tonight, so be sure to set an extra place when you make dinner tonight, Su."
Making dinner was probably the chore that Susan loathed the most—how was she to be expected to concoct something edible from the random ingredients they were allotted by the government?—but the idea of seeing Peter brightened the prospect greatly. They had rarely seen him ever since he had graduated from school and enlisted in the army. They only received sparse letters about how his training was going, and every once in a while he would pop in for dinner, looking leaner and stronger and more manly than he had before. He had yet to be deployed, but they feared it was only matter of time—even if the radio was saying victory was near.
As the screen backdoor slammed shut behind Helen, Lucy asked, "Do you think the army'll let Peter stay the night? It's been ever so long since we've all had a good"—here she lowered her voice conspiratorially—"talk."
By "talk," she of course meant a reminiscing session about their happier lives in Narnia. With the War dragging on and on with news of more deaths every day, thinking of Narnia was their sole escape from their harsh reality.
"It's Friday, so maybe," Susan shrugged, standing to clear the table. The thought of talking about Narnia was, for the first time in her life, filling her with an odd sick feeling instead of the warm, safe feeling it usually did.
As she stepped up to the sink, an image flashed through her mind of a grown-up Lucy screaming, tears running down her face…of Peter and Edmund rolling around on the ground like sworn enemies, trying to kill each other…
Because Peter had hit Edmund. In the face. The crunch of broken bone echoed through the chamber as their sisters screamed.
Peter wasn't content with just that one hit. In this moment of blind, righteous rage, he wanted Edmund dead. And he could make it happen. He leapt on his fallen brother, punching, beating, kneeing him. Edmund defended himself and attacked back as his shame turned into anger.
"Peridan!" Susan implored. "Stop this!"
Peridan was already amidst the fight, trying to first peel Peter off of Edmund, then Edmund off of Peter, but both brothers would have none of it. The Kings were too much of a match for Peridan, who was as effective as a fly, getting swatted off again and again.
Lucy was egging on Peter, encouraging him as he tried to kill his own brother.
It was too much stress. Susan grabbed her round stomach and groaned as a pain ripped through her. She felt faint—the pain was something she had never experienced before. The baby—! Sparks clouded her vision. She reached for something, someone to steady her. She thought she felt familiar hands, but couldn't be sure…
Everything was dark…
"Susan?"
For the second time that morning, Susan was dragged from her thoughts by Edmund's voice. She looked down into the sink and saw that she had dropped the glass cups; they were shattered into pieces.
She turned around, inhaling and blinking. Why was her face so wet?
"Su, what's wrong?" Edmund demanded, coming over and taking the washcloth from her.
"Where's Lucy?" she asked dazedly.
"She went next door to Sally's," he replied. "Come, sit down."
She complied, and he sat in front of her. Edmund looked so different now than how she remembered. He was so much younger, so innocent. Shorter, thinner. No crown, only messy dark hair to cover his head. Guilt didn't burn in his eyes.
He patiently waited as she composed herself. She didn't know how to explain what was happening to her. First the nightmare last night, and then the daydream just now. How could she explain how real they felt, how she was starting to feel that the dreams had happened, or would have happened, or something?
"Ed," she finally sniffed, "do you sometimes feel that there were things that happened in Narnia that you can't explain? Or even remember?"
His brow furrowed. "How do you mean?"
"I sometimes feel that there are…gaps…in our memories. Empty spaces."
"Can you give me an example?"
"I—I can't! It's as if I know something is missing, but when I get close to it, it eludes me." She thought back to her nightmare, how she distinctly remembered being pregnant and married…married to Peridan… "Ed, do you think we ever got married? Or had children?"
His freckled brow wrinkled. "Of course not! Aslan wouldn't take us away if we had family. And anyway, we'd remember them if we did!"
"But what if…if something bad happened to them…something that Aslan would make us forget?"
Edmund looked at her with an amused expression that plainly told her that he thought she was mad.
"Su, you should ask Peter tonight. I think you're looking into things too much, but see what he thinks, yeah?"
He patted her shoulder and stood.
"Here, I'll help you clean up the glass before I go to Eustace's."
