I'm apologize for my tardiness. It took longer to write this than I originally planned. Now, I did some research on the schooling systems back in the 1940's, and I found that I've made some mistakes concerning the "leaving age" (basically what would be the graduating age of today's "seniors" in high school) of secondary school "pupils"; it was actually age 15 after the Education Act of 1944.
"Grades" were separated into primary (ages 5 – 11) and secondary schools (11 – 15), and was further categorized by the Tripartite System: grammar schools, secondary technical schools, and secondary modern schools.
Now, as far as fixing my mistake goes, I would love to go back as far as the first chapter and edit…thing is, I've done that once already. It's extremely tiring and time consuming. I'll just work with what I've done so far (as much as it pains me, I hate lazy writing) and ask that all you readers out there that know your history will pardon my ignorance. ; )
I'm just going to wing it, again, as much is pains me.
~Hereafter~
Chapter Eight – June 20, 1946 — May, 1947
June 20, 1946
I want to marry you…
"…Peter?"
…Again.
"Yes?" he asked airily. Peter found himself spacing in light of his small revelation. Why didn't he think of this sooner? He supposed that with their lives going by so fast, he hadn't had the time to think so seriously on their relationship.
That probably sounds bad. Not going to bring up that point if she ever asks.
"You didn't…well…yes. Peter, yes, I want that too…so much," she replied. He heard the soft sniffling in each of her pauses, and he frowned.
"Are you crying?"
"No…not really…"
"Why are you crying?" he asked quietly.
"I'm…I'm happy, Pete. I'm happy we're finally talking about this."
Finally? He thought. Has she thought about this often?
"Finally?" His tongue slipped before he could really think through his response.
"Y-Yes…we're adults now, Peter…I've been waiting…we've been waiting for a long time, longer than we really needed to." She surprised him with his words, to say the least. He himself had only just thought of it.
"How long have you felt this way, Alexa?"
"Oh, Peter…it doesn't matter now, does it?"
"It matters," he mumbled. She giggled a bit.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
True to his word, Peter did take Alexa and the rest of his family out with the little money he had (excluding Susan and Edmund, who could pay for themselves).The restaurant was small, but quaint, and at six in the evening, the place was almost completely filled out. They talked for nearly an hour while eating their meal, and while Alexa was distracted, Edmund and Peter motioned for the waiter to come closer.
"Yes, sir, what can I do for you?" he asked discreetly.
"Will you do us a favor and bring some cake for desert? It's our friend's birthday," said Edmund, who vaguely gestured to the black-haired girl who was participating in a rather loud conversation (thanks to Susan) with his siblings and his cousin.
"Yes, of course." The waiter took down the order and calmly walked away, leaving the two brothers.
"Oh, I forgot to have them order vanilla cake…ah well," Edmund said, shrugging his shoulders and bringing his drink to his lips. They talked for a few minutes more, before Peter finally noticed something.
"What is that you're drinking?" Peter asked. He hadn't been listening when Edmund was ordering, but through the glass it looked a dark and thick reddish purple. Ed smirked, taking another slow sip.
"You can't have any, if that's what you're aiming for."
"I'm not, it just looks like—"
"Oh, Peter, look! Susan got me a bracelet," Alexa turned and showed him her wrist that now held a simple silver band.
"It's beautiful," he agreed.
"And did I mention I love the pendant you gave me?"
"Yes, yes you did. But you can say it one more time, if you like." Alexa had to roll her eyes at his cheeky grin. She opened her mouth to retort when she saw the waiter arrive out of the corner of her eye with a tray in his hand. Peter noticed as well, and tried to move his chair out of the way. It was just too bad that the man holding the tray didn't notice Peter.
The entire group at the table gave a start when Alexa slowly looked up from her lap…which was encrusted with vanilla cake. Her bangs were coated in frosting, as was the front of her dress. Her eyes were wide with surprise, as were the expression of those around her. Peter was in shock.
I can't believe it…I'm going to get beat tonight. But just then, Edmund got up from his seat and started to move around Peter and the gaping man who stood with an empty tray, looking as pale as a sheet. Susan had moved out of the way, up and out of her chair that was next to Alexa. Peter hadn't reacted quick enough, and was partially freckled with cake pieces.
"Here let me help. Oh wait, let me put down my glass—" Edmund miscalculated his steps with the slippery cake on the floor, and tripped. The entire glass emptied itself down the front of Alexa's dress, and she gasped with the sudden uncomfortable pouring of sticky, dark liquid. Her gaze slid up to Edmund, who fell back into Susan's chair. He put up his hands in a placating manner when her eyes narrowed in fury. Edmund could practically feel flames in his hair and sweat down his spine.
She began to rise from her seat when Peter reached out to stop her…but in doing so, he knocked over the plate of what had been her meal onto her lap…adding to the cake. Her head snapped in his direction, pinning him to his seat with a piercing stare. After the plate slid to the floor, he dislodged his tongue from the roof of his mouth.
"Uh…well…at least the cake was vanilla…that's your favorite right?"
Alexa shoved a fistful of cake into his face. A second went down his shirt.
xXx
Nearly five minutes later the six of them were successfully "shown out" of the restaurant for "causing a ruckus in public," but given a free cake for their trouble. They were all laughing it off by the time they got outside, including Alexa…even Peter and Edmund, who were also "stuffed" with pastry.
Once Peter had gotten the remaining filth off of him in the shower and was dressed again, he made his way downstairs so that Edmund could use the shower. Walking by the kitchen, he passed Susan, who was once again on the phone.
Does she ever quit? he thought with a roll of his eyes.
"Oh, Peter, there you are! Someone is calling for you," said Susan. She held out the phone, and he took it from her quickly. He had a feeling that he knew who it was.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Mr. Peter Pevensie?"
"Yes, this is he. May I ask who is speaking?"
"I'm David Schilling, and I represent Heron Books as editor-in-chief."
Peter walked at a fast clip alongside David, who was giving him a short tour of the offices and workrooms.
"Look, David, I just wanted to say thank you so much for accepting me into this position—"
"I wouldn't thank me yet, Peter. There's my office over there." David pointed to the right of the many small cubicles in the middle of the room. "You're going to need to know where I am, because after you finish editing a manuscript you're going to hand it off to Susie, who's going to give it to Mark, who's going to give it to Marge, who's going to give it back to you, and you're going to give it to me for a final read through. In that exact order."
"Why so many people for one manuscript?" asked Peter.
"That's the cycle. If it goes through you first, it has to go through all of us. But if Susie finds one while you do, she only has to pass it up, not down to you."
"Why is that?" David spared him a glance before pausing in front of a grey cubicle.
"Because you're the new kid. Enjoy your last minutes of freedom. An agent should come to meet you with a possible book within the hour." With that, David (who had sounded so pleasant on the phone) left Peter to his own devices. He would just have to wait for the agent, whoever that was going to be, he surmised. Until then, just what the hell what he supposed to do?
Enjoy my freedom, apparently.
"Hey, you're the new guy right?" Peter looked over and saw a woman, probably mid-thirties, with a slender figure and a large pair of bright, blue eyes; the most apparent feature he noticed about her.
"Yeah, I'm Peter," he said as he stood and walked over. "You must be…Susie? Or Marge?"
"Susie," she admitted, shaking his offered hand.
"Nice to meet you."
"Yeah, hey, don't take David too seriously. It's a lot of work, but working here isn't the worst thing you could be doing," she said, brushing back a strawberry blonde strand behind her ear.
"Oh, yeah? Well, thanks…" Peter restrained a sigh. He did admit, things could be worse. At least this woman was friendly. "Do you know who my agent is supposed to be, or when he's coming? David said within the hour, but he gave me the impression that I'd just be sitting here until he came."
"Well, he said he would be back in half an hour," Susie started, looking thoughtful.
"Oh, all right. That's not bad—"
"Forty-five minutes ago," she finished. Peter deflated.
"…Oh…well, who is he?" At this, Susie rolled her eyes.
"His name is—"
"Well, I just know that damn mop of blonde hair anywhere." Peter turned to the sound of the voice, and immediately had to grin.
"Richard? You bastard, you said you were going to come visit me a month ago!" Peter exclaimed. Leaning casually on the frame of the cubicle entrance was Richard Kingsley, donned in a black pinstriped suit and his customary knowing smirk. He pushed off of it and the two friends clasped hands. Meanwhile, Susie only smiled, shaking her head as she let herself out.
"Bye, Peter, good luck with this clown," she threw over her shoulder.
"Oh, bye! Sorry, Susie," Peter replied. He felt a pang of guilt for his language in front of a lady he had only just met, but his attention was quickly reverted back to Richard with the conversation at hand. Peter attempted a glare at the fool who hadn't contacted him since June; the desired affect was lost, however, by the broad grin etched on his face.
"Sorry, mate," Richard began. "University bit me in the ass, got me in the habit of doing something with my life every day. So naturally, I had to go out and get a job. If I knew you'd be here, I would've told Linda to call Alexa. She's still around, right?"
"Of course she is. She's at home getting lessons ready, though. She's going to start teaching two classes at a local secondary school in the fall," Peter explained.
"That's good, she's bound to be great with kids," Richard replied with an approving nod.
"Yeah, thanks…so what are you doing here?" asked Peter.
"Well, I'm an agent. David told me cubicle D was the new guy I'd be working with…so guess who?" Richard said with a grin. Peter returned it wholeheartedly.
Mid-August, 1946
It was a rather large building; white and brown paint, black lettering, square-paneled windows. There was a sign above the huge double doors welcoming King's University students. It was just his luck that the second he walked through those doors and received his schedule, he looked into the face of his first professor, Dr. Merriman (his name was listed on the schedule). The face was not amused by the luggage on his left foot.
"You would do well to get your…overgrown bookcase off my leg."
"S-So sorry, sir." Edmund moved as quick as he could out of the older man's way. He appeared to be mid to late fifties with a trimmed, black beard. It was streaked with grey and he wore large, round glasses that sat upon a narrow nose. Edmund could already tell the man was going to be a hard-ass.
"Hmph, better be…damn disrespectful kids," the professor said as he walked away, not quite under his breath. Edmund waited until Dr. Merriman was completely turned in the opposite direction before rolling his eyes.
I hope I don't get senile that quickly.
"No one may go to the bathroom without your permission. They must raise their hands at all time. Homework must be given every day on time, and at the beginning of class. Tardiness should not be allowed or encouraged, but that should be obvious. Any questions you have should be directed toward me after class. If it's important, you may call the number provided on your desk. Any questions so far?"
Alexa stared at Headmaster Gates blankly. He stood nearly a head and a half over her, with neatly combed back brown hair and hard, pale blue eyes. He had a clean shaved face, but a methodical disposition. Internally she felt a bit intimidated by the taller, commanding man, but outwardly she did not show any of her inner thoughts. It was something she had been trained to do from long ago, when she had been in the commanding position, as this man in front of her had been trained to deal with anything from unruly children to inadequate teachers.
"No, sir, but do you have the key to my classroom?" asked Alexa. She readjusted her hold on the two rather thick curriculum books. The headmaster had sent them to her about a month ago, so that she could prepare accordingly for the school year. Alexa had strong feelings that this year wasn't going to be as straightforward as Headmaster Gates made it seem, but maybe that was because she was teaching secondary pupils only four to six years younger than she.
"Here you are, now go to room 15B. That is only one of the history rooms, but you will operate this room exclusively," he explained and handed her the key. "As you well know, you will teach twice a day: history in the morning, geography in the afternoon. Your pupils will arrive in about half an hour, so I suggest you go to the classroom to prepare."
These children are just around Lucy's age, how am I going to do this? Alexa restrained a sigh.
"Yes, sir, thank you," Alexa replied politely, and walked out of the headmaster's office without a spared glance. It was a good thing for her that there were signs on the walls with classroom numbers, or else she would have never found the room. She wasn't about to ask him for directions.
xXx
Once the room was unlocked, Alexa settled her things on the small desk at the front of the room.
"Okay, now what?" she said aloud. Her hand skimmed over the cover of one of the curriculum books.
I guess I should get ready for the kids to come in, she thought, and began organizing handouts she had prepared for the first lesson.
xXx
Of course things couldn't be easy. Why should they?
"Please sit down, you've gone to the bathroom twice already. We are on page ten." Grumbling, the boy sat down. Alexa skimmed her roster along with the seating chart. Michael Finch—that was his name. Sixteen and rowdy as hell from the first day, and why not? It was only her first day as well, after all. She knew this was a bad idea, she told Peter.
"What if I don't feel like reading?" the boy mumbled, even as he lowered himself into his seat. This caught Alexa's attention quickly.
"Excuse me?" she asked, raising a brow as she stood a bit straighter. When Michael did not answer, she slowly walked toward his desk.
"Page ten, please read the first two paragraphs out loud for us," she instructed.
By the Lion, I'm becoming a teacher, she thought wryly. And surprisingly, he did as he was told. Though when he was done, he leaned over and whispered to the boy next to him, a gangly blonde who desperately needed a haircut not to mention a hairbrush).
"Is there something you would like to say, Mr. Finch?" she asked. Michael sat up slowly and looked up at her with an annoyed glance.
"No, ma'am."
"Are you sure?"
"…Yes, ma'am."
"Please don't talk without permission."
"Sorry, ma'am." She nodded and went to sit at her desk while the rest of the class did busywork. But just when her back was turned, she heard Michael remark to another, most likely one of his friends.
"She's a bit tight-assed for a teacher that just got out of university."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Simply a disrespectful, arrogant child! I can't believe he had the audacity—and on the first day of school!" Peter, Edmund and Lucy watched as Alexa explained the story as she paced. Well, she had finished the story, now she was just ranting.
"I mean, I disciplined him accordingly! I gave him extra homework. But who can just turn their back when he starts complaining loudly and starts winding up the other students! No, no, I sent finally had to send him down to the Headmaster. And who did Headmaster Gates get mad at? Me, for not taking care of the problem quickly enough."
"If it's all the same, I would have done the same thing you did," said Peter, looking up from his newspaper. Previously, he had been busy with looking for affordable apartments when Alexa had come over to join them for dinner. But here he knew how she felt; he had experienced rowdy children before, and had to put them in their place before they could do any lasting damage. "Just make sure your point comes across. Don't let them get in edgewise."
"I tried," Alexa nearly whined.
"Oh, come on. You've stared down pompous nobles and pretentious ambassadors plenty times before," Edmund quipped. "That's all he is, a rich kid with an attitude."
Alexa knew he was right. The school was expensive and snooty, Alexa herself was lucky to have been selected to fill in one of the teaching positions.
"Not to mention a young lad as hardheaded as his father," Lucy murmured. Peter shot his sister a dry look, while Alexa managed a half smile. But thinking of that young boy always made her heart hurt.
"And besides, the art of intimidation can't be totally lost on you yet. Oreius taught us, after all," said Edmund.
"He was always so good to us," said Peter. "He trained us, helped us learn how to rule the people, and followed us without fail."
"In and out of battle," Edmund pointed out.
"He was our greatest advisor, and probably one of our oldest friends, besides Tumnus," said Alexa.
"The two of them always did their best not only to serve us, but protect us in their own ways, I think," said Lucy. She, too, missed her old friend Mr. Tumnus so very much. He was the first Narnian she had ever encountered, and he had saved her. What, she wondered, had she ever done to repay him? Yes, they had made him one of their main advisors and had kept him close to them in service…but was that really enough?
"I think Eustace would have liked to meet both Mr. Tumnus and Oreius, he could have learned much," she added. Eustace had left two weeks before, towards the beginning of August to go back to school. But he promised that he would be back to visit soon, probably around Christmas, which did not take too long to come around. In the next few months, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy continued their studies, and Peter grew to achieve much success with Richard at the publishing house.
Meanwhile, Alexa grew three thorns in her side: Michael, Harold (the shaggy blonde), and Douglas, who were unremittingly wreaking havoc in her class, were also on the verge of bringing Alexa to her wits end. No matter what she did, whatever she threatened, they would not cease in disrupting her lessons. And when one of them (probably Michael, she suspected) had put a tray of pudding on her chair and waited until she sat down to laugh hysterically, she had to call their parents in for a meeting the week before the 20th of December.
"He did what?"
"You must be mistaken."
"My boy would never!"
"I assure you, my dry cleaning bill can speak for itself," Alexa said dryly. "And from fifteen and sixteen-year-olds, no less. I would have expected all this mess from primary students, but they are almost men now. They ought to know better, I would think."
"Well, what can Douglas do to make up for his many…" The mother glared over at her son before continuing, "Disruptions?"
"Yes, and Michael. We've had…some problems in the past with his behavior, but it's something that we're willing to correct," said the boy's father, who spoke for both himself and his wife.
"I can't believe Harold did these things for so long. What will be his punishment?" asked Harold's mother. The father only nodded once, a large, burly man not seemingly one to be as outspoken as his spouse.
"Well, they may serve an hour's worth of detention every day this week to make up for their constant trouble making, and write a three page essay on a historical event of my choosing before the holiday break arrives," said Alexa. All three boys groaned. Their parents shushed them.
Nonetheless, the week went by with minimal disruption from what Alexa had privately nicknamed, the Three Stooges, after the popular American television show. Each of them came after school every day from Monday to Friday, forced by their parents. And by Friday, they handed in their reports.
"I trust all of these are at least two pages?" said Alexa.
"Yes, Miss Williams," said Douglas, who actually looked the most repentant out of the three. Harold only looked uncomfortable, while Michael seemed as if he really, by this point, could care less.
"All right, well, have a merry Christmas," she said, dismissing them.
"Oh, wait. This is for you, Miss Williams," said Michael. He offered her a cake, a simple peace offering. She took it dubiously, but thanked the boy all the same. She doubted it was sincere, but who was she to pass up on a free cake? Peter and Edmund would most likely devour it anyway.
xXx
When she visited the Pevensie household later that night, Edmund did take the cake from her, as expected.
"I knew there was a reason why you're my favorite," he commented as he stuck a fork right into the center.
"Well, one of my problem pupils gave it to me," Alexa began as Peter helped her take off her coat. "So don't be surprised if you find yourself eating—"
"DEAR GOD, WHAT IS THIS?"
"…Dirt. Well, what do you know?"
"UGH, IT HAS DIRT AND A WORM IN IT!"
"Well, spit it out, idiot!" Peter exclaimed through his laughter. Both him and Alexa sat down to join the choking Edmund.
"BLECH, were you TRYING to kill me?"
"I said it wasn't mine. You didn't listen to me."
"I could kill you."
"No you couldn't. You could try."
"I'd like to."
"Peter would kill you first."
"Yes, I would."
"Damn it."
"Sucker."
"Midget."
"You have black teeth."
"Am I the only adult?"
"Shut up, Peter."
"I'm the older brother. You can't make me."
"Now who's the child?"
"Shut up, Alexa."
"You shut up, Peter!"
"Shut up, both of you!"
"…I got us a house."
"WHAT?" Alexa sat up straight at this.
"I found us an apartment, low cost. Both of our salaries would be enough to cover it," said Peter.
"But…we-we're not—" They weren't married. She couldn't quite finish her sentence, because Peter already knew. But he had a plan.
"Don't worry, I'm working on it."
December 24, 1946
It was like they were all six years younger again, playing in the snow, when at that time, it was in the middle of summer. Not now, during the Christmas of 1946, but years ago, to a simpler time that broke way to something…not so simple indeed. The four of them remembered it quite clear, save for Eustace, who could not visit this Christmas, or Susan, whose memory was becoming quite distant to those sorts of things.
Susan had a new boyfriend, Philip, who she "adored with all of her heart." But then again, she had adored the last three as well. Even now Susan was with him, sitting on the porch while she watched her siblings play. She was too old to be participating in such childish games, and it was her opinion that both Peter and Alexa were as well. But they rarely listened to her anymore.
"Can't catch me!" Lucy called as she ducked behind a tree. A few snowballs fell on either side of her, and she squealed and slid down further.
"Gotcha!" Edmund shouted as he peeled her from the tree. She laughed out right and tried to wriggle away, but to no avail. Since she couldn't move him, Lucy stepped a foot in between where he stood and she twisted, putting him off balance. When he began to fall, however, he grabbed on tightly to his sister and brought her down with him.
"It's called a 'snowball fight,' not a wrestling match!" said Alexa with a giggle as she approached them.
"Ah, right you are," said Ed, sitting up in the snow. "How about we level the playing field then?" Alexa's eyes widened as a mischievous smirk spread across his face, and she tried retracing her steps. But it was too late; Edmund and Lucy began pelting her with snowballs. Alexa turned and ran blindly, trying to get as far away from the duo as possible. In her haste, she didn't see the long, thick branch in her path that had fallen from a tree.
"Alexa, watch out for that—" Her foot inevitably caught it, and she fell in a black heap in the snow, her hair falling around her face. Even her dark jacket was a stark contrast to the white, powdery flecks.
"Thanks for the warning, Pete," she said dryly, but took his offered hand. She saw his grin, and warned him explicitly not to laugh. However, he couldn't restrain himself from chuckling at her haggard appearance. Rolling her eyes, Alexa began to walk away, but he used her captured hand to tug her back to him and kissed her lips chastely. When they broke apart, she had to smile.
"I thought we weren't supposed to do that here," she said, fingering the lapels of his jacket.
"Eh, I'm sure they've figured it out by now," said Peter.
"True, but you don't want to tell them?" she asked.
"They've probably seen us just now; I can tell my mother is spying through the window. What's to tell?" Alexa had to laugh.
xXx
By the time Alexa had left to be with her mother on Christmas Eve that evening (her mother had been working all that day), and Philip likewise left to be with his own family, the Pevensie family had sat to a quiet time of storytelling, as was their tradition every year. Peter started, naturally, and told of magnificent tales of clever nymphs, antisocial beings called "Marsh-wiggles," and ancient giants that took resident in perilous mountains. Edmund and Lucy also told their share of stories, between journeys to uninhabited islands, to battling sea monsters, and even meeting beautiful stars.
But eventually, Susan retired for sleep, followed by Edmund, Lucy, and even Helen. Only Peter and John were left in the living room, talking quietly into the night of life, people, work, anything and everything, until John brought up something that truly caught Peter's attention.
"So, are you finally going to buy that apartment?" he asked. Peter was taken aback that his father actually had picked up on that.
"Well…I intend to."
"When?"
"You're not surprised?"
"For heaven's sake, Peter. You're twenty-one years old. Get out of my house already."
"Thanks, Dad."
"I'm just saying, you have to live your own life now. Getting a job was a start, but actually, now that I think of it, there's something else first before you move out," John said, pointing a finger at his son.
"And what is that?" Peter asked in amusement.
"Do you intend on marrying that girl, at least?" asked John. Peter paused, effectively sobered.
"Yes."
"No hesitation…good. She's a good girl. Do it sooner rather than later, you might regret it," John said with a nod.
"I don't think I have to worry about that, but why do you say that?"
"For obvious reasons. You wait too long, she might change her mind. I've seen it happen."
"To you?" Peter asked incredulously. Surely his mother hadn't done that.
"No, to my old friend, Ernest. He waited until after he came back from war to tell his high school sweetheart. But when he went to visit her, he found that she was already married, a child on the way as well," John said, his expression suddenly solemn, not as carefree as before.
"That's terrible."
"Quite," John quipped. "But you won't let that happen to you, I'm sure. You're too stubborn for it, like your mother. You don't know what I went through to make sure I was the one to have this conversation with you and not your mother." Peter winced. That could have been uncomfortable.
"I appreciate that."
"Just don't take her for granted, don't take anything for granted. It might not always be there waiting if you do."
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The very next day after Christmas Day, Peter went to see Mary Williams, Alexa's mother. He asked for her blessing to marry her daughter, to which Mary had replied, "I was wondering when you were going to make an honest woman out of my daughter."
On the same day, Peter went out and bought a ring. It wasn't the same cut or style as the first, but he very much doubted that rings were crafted by dwarves anymore.
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He waited until January, the day after New Years to ask her. Unfortunately, on that night he couldn't give her a Camille flower, but he gave her a white lily instead, her second favorite. You could guess what her answer was.
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On May 3, 1947, they were married in the church in front of a small congregation of their family and friends; of whom Peter's cousin (and Jill, a friend Eustace had made at school after, subsequently, a Narnian adventure—something Peter hadn't been told the entire story to, but it had something to do with a lady and a green kirdle), aunt, and his mother were seated up front. Alexa's mother sat on the other side with Mary's sister and her sons, Alexa's cousins. Edmund was Peter's best man, while Richard, Thomas Kincaid, and Charles Hardy, his friends still in contact from university were his chosen groomsmen.
Alexa chose Susan as her maid of honor. Despite the conflict between them in Susan's behavior, Alexa could still see the sister she had once had in the younger woman, and had explained this to Lucy, who understood. Lucy, Linda, and Diane (yes, even Diane accepted Alexa's request) made up Alexa's bridesmaids. And to both Peter and Alexa's surprise, a month before the wedding, John had offered to walk Alexa down the aisle. She did need someone to "fill in," as it were; her own father had died years before. It was unorthodox, but it worked in their favor.
"If not the father of the bride, why not the father-in-law of the bride?" John had remarked.
The wedding was held on the same day as the first had been, a fact unknown to all but the bride, the groom, and six others (including Jill, Eustace, and Professor Kirke, who had almost not come to the ceremony, but obliged to Peter's incessant requesting). His wedding gift to them was a standard Bible. On it was a scribbled note that read: "Have you found Him yet?"
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After their honeymoon, the couple moved into the house Peter had bought with his father's help (that John had pretty much forced upon Peter, for because of his pride he had not wanted the financial help, but agreed for his new bride's sake). They lived there comfortably for some time until a cloudless day in May, when they received an odd letter in the mail from Professor Digory Kirke.
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At the same time, on a cloudless day in May, Edmund received a note on his doorstep (he only knew that it was meant for him because the sender had addressed him personally in the first line). He had a feeling he knew who it was, but he heeded the blatant clue: "under the oak tree, you'll find me, waiting for something that could be fleeting."
He went to the park with nothing but the clothes on his back and the spare change in his pocket.
There he saw brunette curls that framed a lightly freckled face. Bright, green eyes peered at him from under dark lashes and thin, silver glasses. He saw lips that were not too full, but painted red.
"Hello, Edmund," she greeted him warmly, with a wide smile. It wasn't a perfect smile, but to him, it held a kind of prettiness. "I wanted to tell you something, but I think you already know."
It was carefree; it allowed him to smile back, and close the gap that held between them. He had searched for the word, wracked his brain. What made her so alluring in all her quirks and oddities, her incessant talking and never being still? But now…he knew.
"I do." He grazed her cheek with the back of his hand, and her eyes closed. And as he leaned in and brushed her lips with his, he thought it.
Free. She's free. Of anything that would hold her back from life; from disappointment, from failure, from anything that haunts her past…she holds a love for life…and that makes her beautiful.
He hadn't even needed the spare change in his pocket.
Fluff galore, for all you fluff addicts out there. I tried to make it as least corny as possible, so my apologies if I didn't quite succeed. We'll be wrapping up in the next couple chapters. This one hopefully succeeded in tying many loose ends, and will continue to do so especially in the next chapter. Feel free to leave comments, concerns, likes, dislikes, etc. You all know the drill.
