You were called to the one hope that belongs to your call…

Ephesians 4:4b

Lucy Pevensie, age eight, sighed as she watched her older sister slam the back door and sit on the other side of the only tree in the backyard. It looked as if Susan had been crying, though Lucy couldn't really blame her. It was hard to be back.

Susan was sad about Narnia, Lucy knew. For Lucy, though, it was harder to come back to Finchley from the Professor's than to come back from Narnia. Aslan always did what He felt best, and apparently best for the Pevensies meant England. But out at the country house, where you could at least go and touch the wardrobe and see it and smell it and know that something special happened and hope that soon, soon, soon you would be called back… At least at that house there was a presence, a breeze from a distant sea that you could almost feel. Finchley… Finchley was harder.

Lucy sat down at the kitchen table, hearing her mother in the front parlor chatting with one of her friends. There had been some moments over the last few hours when Lucy could tell that Mum was almost about to ask a question but didn't. It would be difficult to ignore the changes that had come over Edmund, the stillness of Peter, Susan being so touchy. And Mum might be the sort of person who could handle the truth and not pass it off as a silly game or a clever lie. But Lucy could see deeper lines on her mother's forehead and hear a grayer sadness in her voice. The summer had been hard on Mum, with Dad gone and her children away. She probably didn't need to be hearing about fauns and river gods and animals that could talk and her children ruling over kingdoms. Maybe someday. But not now.

Lucy got up from the table, picked up her stuffed bear and walked down the hall into her room. Susan must have been tidying up, Lucy thought, because clothes were put away and toys were back on the shelf. Walking over to the bookcase, Lucy pulled down the book about King Arthur and stared at the boy-king, gleaming in silver armor and grasping a long sword on the cover. He really did look an awful lot like Peter, which was probably why when the Professor told her she could choose any book out of his library to take home as a memory she chose that one. Mother had seen it in her bag at the train station and had laughingly asked her if she had chosen it for the pictures, but after the Return (as Ed liked to refer to that day) Avalon had seemed so much more real - not to mention the fact that Lucy in her early twenties had been reading much more difficult literature than "The Legend of King Arthur". Reverting back fifteen years does not mean that you forget what "cajole" or "hauteur" or "clinquant" means, even if you do like carrying around stuffed animals.

The jump from twenty three to eight was not as difficult for Lucy as it was for her siblings. Throughout her teens in Narnia she had held on to her playful, joyful spirit and would probably always be an eight year old at heart. No, being a child again did not really bother her at all. What was hard after the Return for Lucy was watching Susan's reactions to England and coming to the realization that her sister didn't really have much hope left for a Return back. When they first were back in England, Lucy had insisted on sleeping in Susan's room, just in case Aslan called them back – they could get to Narnia faster together, she thought. But at night, when everyone else was asleep, Lucy could sometimes hear her sister crying herself to sleep. And Susan wouldn't talk about it. Whenever Lucy would bring up the topic of Narnia, Susan would laugh and say it was a wonderful memory, or turn away and pretend not to hear. That was worst of all. Pretending it never happened.

Ignoring the truth was always the worst.

Because it did happen. It was true. Staring down at King Arthur, Lucy could feel the weight of a crown forged by the dwarves on her head and hear the laughter of the dryads as they danced through the woods. Being a queen, even if only for fifteen years that had passed by like nothing at all, was a part of who she was. And now it was up to her to make sure that she never forgot the look in Aslan's eyes as the crown was placed upon her head.

Lucy placed King Arthur gently back on the shelf and sat down on the floor, cradling her bear in her arms. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the roar of a Lion, almost feel the softness of His mane. Aslan was not so far away, even in London. Peter and Edmund could sense Him too, she thought, and if Susan tried a little maybe… But Susan didn't want to try, not on the outside at least. So Lucy would just have to keep doing all she could to encourage her sister that there was still hope.

It would be harder when Peter and Susan and Edmund left for school and she and Mum would have to go and stay at Aunt Agatha's house. It had been ages since she was apart from her siblings. Peter and Ed promised to write volumes of letters, and even Susan had whispered one night that she would send Lucy stories in the mail about her classes. But Lucy figured that she was going to be doing a lot of thinking when her best friends were gone. The Professor had suggested that she write out all of their Narnian adventures, and had given her a little blank book in which to do so. Right now that book was hidden inside her pillowcase. Mum promised that Aunt Agatha had lots of trees around her house and a pond to go fishing and a pet cat. So maybe this would be another new adventure. Probably not the same kind of adventure as Narnia, but an adventure none-the-less.

Lucy got up, set her bear onto her bed, and decided to go outside to check on Susan. Her sister was still sitting beneath the elm tree, staring up at the leaves that were just starting to turn gold in the late August sun. Lucy leaned up against the trunk, feeling the bark beneath her fingers, knowing that this tree was not one that would turn into a laughing young girl.

"Lu?" asked Susan quietly.

"Yes?"

"Are you…" Susan hesitated. "Are you doing alright?"

"It can be hard sometimes," whispered Lucy as she knelt down next to her sister. "I miss them."

"Me too."

"And you are going to be going away soon. And the boys. And Mum doesn't know…" Lucy trailed off.

Susan looked down at the grass, then up at the sky. "Lu… I'm sorry."

Lucy smiled at her sister. "It's alright. I just have to keep reminding myself that He knows where we are. And He told us who we are. He promised us always."

Susan laughed a little. "Always seems really far away right now."

Lucy held onto one of Susan's hands.

"Always is right here too. Remember that."

"I'll try," sighed Susan. "It's hard."

"I know," said Lucy. "But I'm here. And I'll help you remember."

And somehow, magically, the sisters heard the distant song of a faun's reed pipe echoing through the summer breeze.