Till They're Before Your Eyes
Should I even bother beginning these chapters with apologies? I suppose not; it can't be helped. Reality demands time and emotion and energy. However, when reality hurts the most, I find that Narnia is a fantasy most welcome. I hope you enjoy this installment; I am grateful to share it with you.
-rosa
Last time...
"You remind me of someone, Nick. Someone who died."
So close... he thought. He fingered her dark sunglasses, longing to see her eyes. "May I?" he whispered.
She nodded slowly. He pulled the glasses away from her face, then tucked them gently into her hair on top of her head. He pressed a palm to her cheek, watching the blush spread through it. Her beautiful blue eyes were opened wide; sightless, they were fixed blankly off to her right, but still moving rapidly. Her pupils were open, her blue irises glinted int the rare sunlight. How his heart hurt that she couldn't see; it physically pained him. He let his thumb run gently just below her her right eye, and they closed instinctively. Her lips parted, and this time, he initiated.
It was slow, of course. He did not want to shock her. He leaned forward, first touching his forehead to hers, and then, gentle as a feather, let his lips press against hers. Their lips knew each other; hers parted as she breathed, and his responded. He pulled away slowly, with a final kiss on the corner of her left eye, then gently replaced her glasses. He let his hand travel down her arm until he gently took her hand.
"Who was it that I reminded you of?" he asked, so softly that the flap of birds' wings might have brushed it away.
"His name was—"
"Nick! Miss Pevensie!"
A loud bark punctuated the call. Nick turned to scowl at Norman, approaching quickly with Spark in tow, holding his harness in one arm while holding onto a leash in the other hand as the dog loped towards Susan as fast as he could.
Susan turned her head towards the sound of the bark, bewildered. "Norman? You brought Spark?"
Nick did not hide his animosity as the older man approached. He let go of the leash, and Spark took off into a sprint until he was at Susan's side. Susan felt for the leash, checked the connection, then began to calm the animal.
"The poor creature was absolutely desolate without you, Miss Pevensie," Norman said while meeting Nick's hostile gaze evenly. "He was sitting at the door, staring, and I thought you would be more comfortable with him near you."
Here, Susan frowned. "Thank you, but I was fine. Do you have his harness?"
"Yes ma'am." He passed it to her, careful to make sure their hands touched. Susan simply draped the harness over her arm, rather than putting the dog on duty. The dog, however, still sat sharply at attention by her ankles, watching Norman.
"Thank you."
"Well, I have to be going. I have some work to do in my lab, and a new geophysics graduate assistant to train before I can be ready for a day off on the day of the benefit. I am looking forward to your company, Miss Pevensie. Good day."
Caspian suddenly was certain he did not want Susan alone with that man, even in a public place. He would be sure Spark was allowed to go with her, and he would make his own arrangements if necessary.
After a beat of silence, Susan wondered, "Is he gone?"
Nick laughed, surprised. "Quite," he assured her as he relieved her of Spark's harness, draping it over his shoulder. "Thankfully."
"Nick," she chided. "He is being very kind to me." But the way she intertwined her fingers with his own and leaned into him belied her teasing.
"For that, I cannot fault him, for any kindness towards you is kindness to me. I only wish he was not quite so..."
"Persistent?" she supplied.
"Eager. Very eager. Too eager." His grip tightened.
She laughed, the sound music. "Don't worry about him; you have nothing to fear."
Her reassurance was enough to make him forget, and they both continued their path back to her home, unaware of the eyes watching them as they went.
Chapter 9: Pick a Star
Saturday
Sometimes, after days that made her smile, her dreams would be kind to her. In brilliant color, she would live missing scenes from her life. She would play dress up with Lucy in gowns they'd never been able to afford, or she'd manage to beat Edmund at chess. She would dance with her father, sip tea with her mother, and she'd discuss everything with Peter until the sun warmed her and the colors disappeared. Sometimes, even, she would walk the woods in that land of their joined childhood fantasies, admiring blossoms and climbing high into tress to flirt with clouds and songbirds.
Tonight, the fates were cruel. Not long after she closed her eyes, darkness to darkness, she found herself at the train station. She saw her brothers, Peter and Edmund, talking animatedly by the platform, waiting for their train to arrive. She ran to them, the urgency crowding her chest and throat.
"Peter! Ed!"
They turned to her. Peter grinned; Edmund waved. The train was approaching, and she could barely breathe.
"Come on, Susan, we've got to go!" Edmund said, irritation lacing his voice as she froze, watching it approach.
"No. No! We can't get on. Don't get on!"
Peter put his hand on her arm, peering into her eyes. "Susan, we must! Remember?"
"Remember what?"
"We must go; we have a mission. Don't you remember? We must get there, and the Professor knows how we can."
"No, you mustn't get on the train! Peter, please!"
Now, her brother added his other hand to her other arm, grasping her in quiet desperation. "Susan, please remember. We don't want to go without you."
The panic was setting in, and the train slowed by the platform as her heart took up it's frantic pace. Peter let go, began to approach the train; Edmund followed, eying her with curiosity. She was frozen, knowing beyond all certainty that she must not set foot on that train. But as the doors began to close, she erupted from her stance and ran to the platform.
"Remember, Susan!" Peter shouted as the door slammed shut, and her eyes opened to darkness.
XXX
King Caspian the Tenth had started out as a humble prince with a trembling voice. Then, after a year of rule, he taken command of the Dawn-treader with a fierce determination, sailing to the edge of the world itself. He had bravely continued his rule for decades, uniting the Narnians and Telmarines with a crookedly-healed heart. He had even survived the death of his wife and lived to see the return of his long-lost son. Though his rule had not been called a Golden Age like the days of Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy, Capsian X had forged for himself a reputation of wisdom, courage, and grace under pressure.
And at the moment, he was a nervous wreck, pacing his home in England like a madman, pulling at his hair and grunting.
He was wasting time; he knew it. He should be over at Susan's, claiming every moment of her time before Norman Mallory came to sweep her off to flirt with her unreachable university dream at a formal benefit. Instead, Nick found himself in a fit of indecision, unable to leave his house until he resolved it.
He woke up knowing, with absolute certainty, that he must tell Susan he loved her and tonight—before she went off alone with Norman to tease her desire to return to school and lay on his odd charm.
This was no difficult decision; he had felt this love back in Narnia, ages ago, and had never shaken it. But before he could tell her he loved her, he wanted to tell her about Liliandil. He had to be honest now, to continue building the trust he had forged with her. But it was not going to be an easy story to tell to someone who had intentionally forgotten the world of Narnia. How else could he describe being married to a daughter of a star?
He would not mention Rilian—there was no way to tell Susan the story of his son without rushing her back to Narnia, without pushing her too hard. But to tell about Liliandil—that would be just enough, he thought. He could even allude to meeting Susan first, just to tug at her memory.
And then, he would confess his love.
This is why he was nervous. He had been so close to telling her, and he had tried to make his actions shout the words for him—even now, the main source of fear he felt was connected to her. Fear that it was too soon, that she would not yet feel the same, that she would never remember.
Before, it was fear for her safety, fear of losing her, fear of forgetting her. Now his only fear was failure. And that fear was unacceptable.
It was still early yet, not even 10:00 in the morning—Susan would most likely be at the piano and not worrying over getting ready yet. He had time. He would take it.
XXXX
The music claiming the air in Dawn's home was turbulent this morning. She frowned as she fussed in the kitchen, cleaning and putting together sandwiches for them. The tune was quick and angry, filled with minor chords and awkward rhythms. Spark sat at attention at the door of the kitchen, staring into the room where Susan sat, but not at her feet where he usually frequented.
"A bit uneasy, are we?" Dawn asked the dog as she reached into the refrigerator. "I understand."
When Susan's hands suddenly pounded on the keys at the end of an urgent crescendo, Dawn jumped, dropping the plastic pitcher of ice water. She yelped as the top popped off and the water flooded the old linoleum in her small kitchen.
Spark jumped up, turned back to watch Dawn, ears still perked towards the music room. The music did not continue. The German Shepherd cocked his head slightly, as if debating.
"I'm quite alright," she reassured the animal. Her hands shook as she reached for the mop.
"Aunt Dawn? Is everything all right?"
Dawn let her breath out slowly, her smile indulgent. "Yes, Susie. I dropped a pitcher of water and made a mess!"
A moment later, Susan shuffled in, hand trailing the wall as it always did. She did not wear her glasses, so Dawn saw how her stunning blue eyes were underscored with swollen gray, how they fixed off to her right as she listened, trying to make sense of what was around her. Her brown here was tied in a messy braid down one of her shoulders, and she wore a dull sweater and skirt, matching the exhaustion under her eyes.
Susan saw nothing, but heard the unsteady rhythm of Dawn's breaths and how the mop handle rattled against the counter where Dawn had let it rest, still clutched in her hand. Logical as ever, she matched the spill to the timing of her music, feeling embarrassed.
"I'll mop it up, Aunt Dawn, let me."
Dawn straightened, alarmed as Susan began to blindly cross the wet floor. "Careful, Susie, it's slippery."
Ever determined, Susan crossed carefully, taking the mop from Dawn's hand. Dawn watched, fascinated, as Susan touched the edge of the counter and traced it to its corner to anchor herself in the room, stood still for a moment as she imagined, then began to methodically mop the floor in rows.
"Amazing," Dawn murmured. She lowered her body into a chair. "Now what's got you all stirred up this morning, Susie? Not a happy jaunt you were playing there, was it. You look exhausted, my dear."
Susan did not answer immediately, engrossed as she was in her task. Mopping, like any mindless task for someone with sight, required her concentration. After a few moments, she ceased. Rather than asking her aunt if she had gotten all the water, Susan lowered herself and traced a finger across the floor. Finding no puddles, she stood and replaced the mop in the broom closet, then turned her attention back to her aunt.
"I have not been sleeping well lately," she confessed, twirling a long curl around her first two fingers. "I was at the train station again last night. I am still upset about losing my ring..." When she heard her aunt suck in a concerned breath, preparing to placate her again, Susan rushed on. "But I am sure it will turn up soon. And I am nervous... nervous about the benefit tonight."
Now her lock of hair was wound tightly around her fingers. She tugged, then let it loose, beginning a walk around the room.
"Why is that, Susie? My nephew will look after you, and you can have Spark with you."
Here Susan stopped, turning her face towards her aunt, though her eyes strayed. "That is not certain! They may not allow him."
"La!" Dawn scoffed. "I phoned myself. Service animals are allowed at the university, so Spark will go with you."
Susan's relief was obvious, but her negative mood persisted. "Norman insisted that I did not need him."
Dawn smiled softly, wishing her adoptive niece could see the reassurance in her expression; she hoped it carried in her voice. "My dear, you are the only judge of what you need. In a new environment and among strangers, it is perfectly reasonable that you would wish to have your guide-dog with you. Norman cannot possibly be offended, and if he seems so, I will speak to him myself. We may not have been very close when he was a child, but I am still his aunt. He will yield to me."
Susan laughed; surely Dawn intended to be threatening but such a tone was impossible for one so good-natured and gentle. "I am sure he will," she allowed. "Though..." She hesitated, hoping not to offend Dawn for her nephew's sake. "I hope Norman will not be offended; I let Nick lead me around town without Spark. I was afraid to, but he insisted. I felt safe, though."
Dawn stepped forward, taking Susan's hands. Susan jumped at the impromptu contact, but returned Dawn's grasp.
"Now, Susie. I care for my nephew, but you mustn't worry about offending me if you find yourself preferring your handsome suitor's company. Nicholas dotes on you, and he has done wonders for your comfort and confidence, and that is my only concern in the matter. You are a grown woman and free to chose as you please. Tonight is only a benefit, not a marriage proposal. You are free to enjoy yourself without feeling guilty on my account or on Nicholas's. Neither has staked a claim on you, my dear." Here, she laughed slightly. "Besides, your preference is quite clear. Now, go on, out with you. Play something a bit happier please while I finish our lunch."
Shaking her head, Susan placed her hand on the wall and walked back to the music room. Just as she settled her hands on the instrument, feeling for the tape that marked middle C, a knock sounded at the door.
"I'll get it!" she called. Spark barked and his bounding gait sounded in the hallway as he also greeted the visitor.
Dawn puttered around in the kitchen, laughing to herself. "By all means, get it, Susie, for we know I do not have any gentlemen callers at my age! I had my turn."
"Oh, Dawn," Susan sighed, approaching the door. Normally she did not answer the bell- when she could not see who it was and did not want to demand an answer from behind the closed door, she preferred her aunt to answer. But, since Spark's tail was wagging, tapping her calf in a happy rhythm, she assumed he scented Nicholas behind the door.
As she opened it, he immediately identified himself out of courtesy to her. "Susan, it's me." His accent and voice together identified him to her; his name was not needed. When she smiled, she felt his hands both enclose one of hers in greeting.
"Good morning, Nick. Won't you come in? My aunt is fixing brunch."
She sensed his hesitation, and the trembling in his hands betrayed pent up emotion—of what nature, she could not guess.
"I had hope to speak with you in private," he said softly. "Before your event tonight. Could we perhaps sit outside?"
"Certainly," Susan said, her heart thudding with curiosity and sudden anxiety. "We have a small garden, and it is not too chilly out."
"Still, you must take your coat, just to be sure."
Smiling, Susan obeyed, fetching it from the coat closet, and Nick wondered when her adeptness at small tasks would cease to amaze him. He had seen her succeed for weeks now, and still he marveled at how well she seemed to have adapted.
When they were settled in the single bench in the small garden space, Nick turned to Susan, and clasped both of her hands now between his own. She could feel that they still shook.
"Susan, I have a story to tell you, and a confession. The story is not an altogether happy one, but it must come before my confession. Do you have time now to hear me?"
Her brows knit together in concern and confusion. He rejoiced that her eyes were not concealed, that she had forgone the dark glasses to hide her aimless gaze. The emotion in them was a comfort to him.
"I do. Please, tell me what is on your mind."
"Thank you." Nick took a deep breath, closing his eyes and lifting a brief, frantic prayer to Aslan that his story and confession would not alarm her.
"Susan. Beautiful Susan. The more time we spend together, the more I long for you to know me and my story. Though you are the only desire of my heart," he smiled at her soft gasp, "and have been for some time, I must confess: I was once married."
The mourning in his voice gave away the ending to Susan. "But you are so young... too young to be a widower. How can this be?"
His grip on her hands tightened, willing her to hear and remember. "I am not so young as you think; time is often cruel in its caprice. But, as you can tell by my voice and manner, I hope—I am not so much older than you. But I digress. Yes, my wife has passed on, your guess was correct. But I wanted to tell you about her, so there will be no secrets between us."
Susan inclined her head for him to continue, and for a moment, Nick was grinning, distracted by how regal the simple motion had appeared. He forced himself to focus.
"Her name was Liliandil; she was the brightest-" Here, Nick smiled at his pun, " young woman I had met with in a long time. She caught me when I was broken-hearted."
"Whatever by?"
He smiled. "By not having you, of course. I was lonely."
Susan thought him flirting, but he had stated the absolute truth. He still very much missed Susan and longed for a chance to know her during his adventure aboard the Dawn Treader that had chanced his meeting with the beautiful star maiden.
"I was lonely, and"- here, Nick diverged from the truth a bit, for the timing wasn't right- "felt pressure from my family to marry. Her family was large and grand, and she, beautiful and elegant and mysterious. These allures, combined with pressure from both of our families made a quick couple of us, and we married within days of knowing each other and remained so for several years."
Susan frowned, uncomfortable with the jealousy rising in her throat yet curious to hear more.
"I am sad to say that our marriage was never one of romance. Though we grew to care for one another eventually, we were never truly in love. But it made our families," (or rather, kingdoms) "-very happy to see us together. Such marriages were not uncommon in my country."
Susan sat still and quiet, sensing the story was not done. After a thoughtful pause, he resumed.
"But we got on; she was gentle and delicate, and I endeavored to care for her. For a while, we thought ourselves content enough, despite the lack of passion between us. Her death was sudden, and very tragic; she died of a venomous snake bite."
Susan gasped, and she squeezed Nick's fingers. "How terrible," she whispered. "You must miss her."
"Certainly," he allowed, feeling a small portion of the weight off his shoulders by explaining his marriage to her. "She was my guiding star, a constant comfort during turbulent years. We had become fond companions, and I was startled by her death. I do think of her and miss her, and I often wish she had had the freedom to marry for love. In fact, once in a while, I feel guilty now that that opportunity has been gifted to me."
Susan froze, feeling herself flush at this words.
"But... I know Lili would want me to be happy. In fact, she often commented that I always seemed to be searching for something, by sailing off on my adventures for Father all the time, always searching the corners of the world for something or someone." He took another deep breath.
"And now, I have found what I've been searching for- it was you, Susan. My soul has been restless all these years because I have not been complete without you. Liliandil was my guiding star- an unmoving constant, but you... you were a falling star—I only caught a glimpse of you, long ago, and have been trying to follow you ever since. Your beauty and spirit, your bravery and wit- all your charms have captured my heart, and I shall never be free again. I am, my Queen, helplessly in love with you, and feel as if I have been so for an eternity. All I can hope for is that you feel the same."
The color had rushed from Susan's face, and now hers were the hands that trembled.
"What did you call me?" she finally whispered, barely audible. Her eyes were wide for a moment, then clenched tightly shut, as if thinking with all her might.
"My Queen, Susan. Queen of my heart."
"Is that all?" Still softer, this whisper was barely a breath.
"No," he said. "That is not all, though it you have ruled for it an inexplicable amount of time." Please, Susan... please, remember me. Remember Caspian! Say that you love me...
Tremulously, she freed her shaking hands to place her palms on his face, then trace his features by running her palm down his face from forehead to chin. The contact sent a fury of emotions through Nick—lust and anticipation not least among them. After her examination, she returned her hands to rest on the sides of his face. To his horror, tears began to pool in her eyes.
"Oh, Nicholas... I long to see your face more than I have longed to see any single sight in the past year, and in this moment, I wish it more than anything. I can't help but feeling I would recognize you- you seem much too familiar to me, and the feelings between us much too deep to have formed in a matter of weeks... if I could only look in your eyes..."
Her voice began to shake, and he drew her to himself, heart leaping when her face buried into his neck and her arms wound around his waist.
"You would see in them the same love you hear in my voice. Susan- I am heartbroken on your behalf by your blindness, and selfishly wish you could see me, but you must no longer consider it a weakness. Instead, I am daily amazed by how you have adapted. There is something divine at work, something for you to learn or experience that you perhaps would miss if you could see. Please don't hate me for such a cliché."
She seemed to recover herself, sitting up slowly. Her answering smile was soft, and the emotions fleeing her had left a pretty blush in her cheeks. "I could never hate you, and now that I have had time to consider, I believe you are right." Her smile turned grim. "Before I lost my sight, I spent most of my time looking at my own reflection more than anything else. I was a selfish, frivolous girl."
Nick remembered the replay of her life after leaving Narnia; he'd watched in the water with Aslan standing over him, longing to stop the flow of time, to ease her suffering.
"Once I could no longer see my reflection, and focusing on myself left only despair and loneliness... I finally could see past myself." Her irony was wry, but not bitter. "So I am afraid you are right."
He opened his mouth to speak but what she said left it hanging open.
"I love you, too."
He didn't move for a second, didn't breathe, afraid to break the moment. He let the seconds tick by until her expression turned anxious, and when she opened her mouth to speak again, he kissed her. She did jerk in surprise at the contact, but he slid one hand to her waist and let another play in her hair, and he felt her melt. The lips that pecked him once, just once, all those years ago stilled, then softened against his own. When her mouth opened instinctively, he explored it. His fist closed loosely around her hair, a canopy around their faces, and his other hand traced the curve of her waist slowly, from hip to shoulder, just gracing the swell of her chest. She shivered and held him tighter, and Nick gave her a final, softer kiss, and pulled away.
Her eyes were wide, her face flushed. He could feel her trembling, but the smile gracing her just slightly swollen lips allayed any anxiety about his actions. He waited for her to catch her breath as he tried to discipline his own.
"Did you do that with your eyes closed?" she asked.
He laughed, surprised. "Yes. Most people do."
Her smiled widened. "Finally."
Neither lover noticed Norman watching from the window. Susan, because she could not see or hear him, and Nick, because he saw only Susan.
XXX
"He said what?" Dawn's whisper shot up two octaves, and she unconsciously yanked harder on the braid she was plaiting in Susan's hair.
"Ow!" Susan said, but she smiled anyway. "You heard me. Is it still okay if I go with Norman tonight, you think?"
Dawn clucked behind her, fingers blending the smaller braids she'd started above Susan's ear into the larger braid that she intended to pin up. "Of course, darling. You already committed to the evening. Just be very clear with my nephew that your affections are with Nick if you sense he wants to be more than friends. Tonight is little more than fancy dinner with a few students and professors speaking on their research, not a wedding proposal. But yes, be kind and very honest if you suspect he is hoping for romance."
Susan nodded absently. "He is kind, but he doesn't... like Nicholas. But I will, don't worry, Miss Dawn."
She was thinking of Nick now, remembering how the sweet contentment had faded a little in his voice when he'd said his goodbye, when he wished he could accompany her to the university. She had wished she was going with him instead of Norman, but that was a little unfair. Norm had tried only to be helpful, to give her a glimpse of a life simply beyond her reach. She would be generous but make sure he didn't get the wrong impression. He was attentive, but she didn't sense that Norm longed to be near her, felt for her with the intensity that Nick did. There was no comparison.
Susan's attention diverted to the tugs she felt in her hair. "How are you doing that? Let me see."
Knowing what to expect, Dawn kept at her work but slowed down so that when Susan's right hand and fingers gently hovered and felt her own as she worked. She used her hand to feel the braids Dawn had already plaited, and the movements of Dawn's hands as they worked. After a moment, she gasped.
"What?" Dawn wondered. "It looks lovely, Susie, I promise."
"No, no, I'm sure it is. But you aren't wearing your wedding rings!"
Dawn sputtered for a moment, and her hands froze on the strands of hair she was working on. "Well, no... but how... when..."
Susan laughed softly. "You are always squeezing my hands, or guiding them, Dawn. I feel them all the time."
Simply said, but Dawn remained impressed.
"So why aren't you wearing them?"
"Oh, I took them off when I was bleaching working in the garden the other day, and I can't remember where I put them. I'm old, girlie, it happens. I'll look around for them tonight while my house is empty of young people and dogs to look after, don't you worry."
Susan frowned. "I wish I could help you look."
"I told you not to worry, and that sounds like worrying. I'm sure I just set them down somewhere so safe that I forgot where."
Her uneasiness faded back away as Dawn announced that she was done. Fascinated, she ran he hands very lightly over the up-do, and smiled. "It feels so beautiful and intricate."
"It is," Dawn deadpanned, but then giggled. "You look beautiful, Susie. Trust me. The blue suits you, sets off those eyes of yours. I know you prefer to wear your glasses, but you should know your eyes are just as beautiful as ever."
Susan stood, feeling the soft fabric swirl around her ankles. She still felt pretty, even if she couldn't admire herself in the mirror. And it was nice.
"I'm ready."
"Yes, I believe you are."
Norm complimented her, escorted her to the car that came to pick them up.
"Are you sure you don't want to leave Spark here? You will be very safe, I assure you. But I did tell our driver to expect him."
"I appreciate that, Norman. I just feel more comfortable with Spark; he gives me a bit more independence. And as much as I appreciate your assistance, I just feel better this way."
She hoped there was a smile in his tone. "Certainly, Miss Pevensie. Whatever will help you enjoy the evening more. I know you will enjoy Professor Kimsey's presentation on astronomy—he honestly thinks humans could land on the moon someday! And I hope you will give me honest feedback on my own presentation; I'll be speaking on geophysics, and you'll have to tell me if I speak with enough clarity."
She was slightly offended, but then again, she could barely define geophysics, so she brushed it off. She'd been out of school for too many years. "I'll let you know if I can follow you," she said.
"Excellent."
Susan felt for the outline of the car doorway, settled herself in, and scooted towards the middle so that Spark could climb in beside her. And though she was excited to meet students and hear professors, she couldn't help it was Nick's wrist that brushed carelessly against her own.
XXX
Next time, scenes from the benefit... a dream of Lucy... and a visit to a familiar wardrobe...