Chapter 6

A Miracle, and what the Professor Thought of it all

The next morning once again dawned bright and clear. A robin leapt onto the windowsill of the sickroom, singing softly, and baring it's brilliant red breast. Peter groaned softly at the noise, his eyes blinking open. The room was still fairly dark, but a stream of golden sunlight passed over his face. His head still felt a tad stuffy, but his throat no longer burned, his body no longer ached, and he was no longer shaking continuously from chills. In fact, he felt quite comfortable, if it were not for the fact that merely lifting an arm used up quite a bit of energy, and he sagged against the mattress again.

"Blimey," he grunted, attemping to sit up against the headboard. He rubbed his eyes, gazing about his surroundings. The past couple of days were lost in a dream-like haze, though he caught sight of the numerous medicine bottles and bowl of water with a rag hanging over the edge. Several empty tea mugs surrounded the porcelain bowl, and a smaller bowl with a spoon sat on the corner. Peter coughed weakly into his fist, surprised to see no one sitting beside him. The house was very quiet, which meant that everyone was probably still sound asleep.

Peter was still sitting up in bed when Mrs. Macready came to check on him shorty after he'd awoken, and she stopped short, putting a hand over her heart. "Mrs. Macready?" Peter whispered, and she dashed over to the bed in a flash, feeling his forehead and cheeks with the palm of her hand.

"Oh thank the Lord," she breathed, pulling him into a shockingly tight hug. "Your fever has broken. The color is returning to your cheeks again, too."

"Are you all right?" Peter asked, startled by her sudden outpour of emotions.

"You gave us all a right scare," she told him. "deathly ill, and quite in danger of catching pneumonia." she felt his forehead again, as though she weren't convinced that his fever was truly gone. At that moment, the Professor entered, tying his robe and adjusting his spectacles.

"Good gracious," he breathed, when Peter smiled at him. "It is not lost...it is not lost." he wrung his hands, and both Mrs. Macready and Peter stared at him, confused.

"I beg your pardon?" Mrs. Macready asked, and Professor Kirke blinked, shaking his head.

"Nothing, nothing. How are you feeling this morning, Peter? You certainly look much better in deed."

"I'll run and fetch the doctor," Mrs. Macready announced, "so he can make sure to confirm it. I usually don't give a crow's foot what the doctors have to say, but...oh, I'm going to have to leave before I shame myself crying in front of you both!" she fled, and Peter chuckled weakly, watching as the Professor sat down in the chair beside the bed, and allowing the older man to clasp his hand.

"I am feeling better I suppose," Peter replied, sniffling. "I'm just so tired still, and weak." he pressed the back of his free hand against his nose, allowing himself to sneeze once. "Hehkshhhh!"

"Bless you," the Professor told him warmly, offering a fresh handkerchief. "You caught a nasty chill, but the danger is over now, I do believe."

Peter, when he finished wiping his nose, raised an eyebrow. "A chill...? Mrs. Macready said I almost had pneumonia."

Professor Kirke patted his shoulder. "Almost," he said. "you had a nasty bought of flu, and I daresay you'll be rather weak and tired for at least several days. The important thing is that your fever is gone, and your breathing has improved considerably..."

A small sob caught their attention, and both men turned. Susan stood in the doorway, still wearing her nightgown, her hair hanging loosely about her shoulders. Lucy stood at her side, and both girls were beaming. Clearly, Mrs. Macready had woken them before going to fetch Dr. Barnaby, unable to contain herself. Susan was the first to reach her older brother, resting her head in his lap, and Lucy crawled up onto the bed.

Peter bent down and kissed the top of Susan's head, giving the Professor the signal to leave the room and let them have a bit of privacy. Edmund was still sitting on the edge of his bed, refusing to go in and see Peter. The last thing he wanted to watch, was his brother being fussed over again...he couldn't stand it.

"I'll be all right, Su," Peter whispered. "I'll be all right, now."

Susan lifted her head, crawling onto the bed beside Peter, feeling like a little girl again. She held her brother's hands, which were still frail, but not ice cold as they had been the night before. "The doctor was not sure if you would make it through the end of the week, Peter," she sobbed. "oh...you were so desparately ill, and we were so frightened..."

Peter looked at Lucy, who hadn't said a word. "Come and lay beside me," he encouraged, and allowed Lucy to snuggle under the covers with him. "I've missed the both of you so much." he was a bit confused and a little disappointed that Edmund hadn't come to visit, but knew better than to press the matter. If Edmund wanted to be left alone, then it was best to adhere to his wishes.

"You won't believe it," Lucy whispered, picking at a fray on the quilt. "Edmund's been to Narnia, too! He found out how to get in through the wardrobe!"

Peter and Susan glanced at each other, and Peter sighed. "Are you still on about that, Lu?" he asked, and she stared.

"Edmund will tell you so," she promised. "I got applesauce from Mr. Tumnus the faun I told you about...and that's what made you well! He said Narnian apples have magic in them."

Susan stroked Peter's cheek, and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I must admit it was a pure miracle that you survived this," she told him. "but Lu, I do wish you wouldn't keep on about your pretend world. Peter's still very tired, and he doesn't need to be bothered with such nonsense."

"It isn't nonsense," Lucy insisted. "I'll bring Edmund in myself, and have him tell you what he saw!" she slid out of the bed and dashed away, leaving Peter and Susan alone.

"I'm getting very worried about her," Peter told Susan softly.

"So am I," Susan agreed. "she hasn't stopped going on about it since you've been sick."

Peter immediately grabbed his handkerchief again, and snapped forward with more sneezes. "Heh-Kshhh! Hukshuuu!" he coughed and blew his nose for the second time that morning, massaging his throbbing temples.

"Bless you," Susan told him gently, rubbing his back. "the sneezes are certainly a good thing...they're usually a sign you're getting better."

At that moment, Lucy drug a distintcly annoyed Edmund into the room, and folded her arms. "Tell them, Edmund...tell them about Narnia!"

Peter and Edmund looked at each other awkwardly, and Peter lowered his handkerchief, frowning. "You saw the faun?" he croaked, and there was a moment of silence. Lucy wet her lips, glancing over her shoulder at her other brother.

"Well," she began slowly, "he didn't exactly go there with me. He..." she paused suddenly, realizing she hadn't the slightest idea where Edmund had been. He'd been stumbling about when she'd met him, and hadn't told her anything at all about his adventures. "What exactly did you do?" she added curiously.

"Edmund?" Susan asked.

Edmund, who was furious at Lucy for dragging her in to talk to Peter against his will, did the worst possible thing he could think of...he let her down.

"Oh, yes...Lucy and I have been playing...pretending that all her story about a country in the wardrobe is true. Just for fun, of course...nothing, really." he gave a mere shrug.

Horrified, Lucy gave him one look, and tore from the room. Her sobs could be heard in the distance as she ran down the hall, and Peter, forgetting his health, started to rise and get ouf of bed.

"Don't you dare, Peter!" Susan cried, forcing him back down again.

"There she goes again," Edmund scoffed. "what's the matter with her? That's the worst of young kids, they're always..."

"Shut up!" Peter snapped, his voice cracking from the strain. "You've been perfectly beastly to Lu ever since she started this nonsense about the wardrobe, and now you go on playing games with her about it and setting her off again. I believe you did it simply out of spite!"

"Peter, please," Susan begged. "You're still too weak..."

"But it's all nonsense," said Edmund, startled by Peter's response.

"Of course it is," Peter said. "that's just the point. She was fine when we left home, but since we've been down here she seems to be either going queer in the head, or else turning into a most frightful liar. But whichever it is, what good d'you think you'll do by jeering and nagging at her one day and encouraging her the...the...hahchshhuh! hehchshhh! hehchshhh! hehehshuuu!" he rubbed his nose weakly, still sneezing as Susan ordered Edmund to leave at once.

Edmund turned on his heel and stormed off, slamming the door behind him. "Oh he's unbearable," Susan breathed, holding Peter close. "but you really need to calm yourself, Peter...you're still very weak."

"We really must speak with the Professor about Lucy," Peter croaked, wiping his streaming nose with his handkerchief. "Oh...enough sneezing already!" he shivered, and Susan pulled the blankets more tightly around his shoulders.

"I'm so afraid that your fever may come back," Susan said, feeling his forehead quickly. "you recovered so quickly."

He glanced at her. "Thank you for helping take care of me, Susan," he said. "I needed you."

Susan pressed his hand against her lips, just as the Professor peeked in, holding a whimpering Lucy in his arms. "Did someone loose a little bug?" he asked, and Peter looked up.

"Lu?" he asked, and the Professor set Lucy to the ground. The little girl's eyes were bright red from crying, and her hair was slightly matted.

"Professor...I want to talk to you in private, please," Susan said, and Peter allowed Lucy to climb back up onto the bed with her brother. He cuddled her again, frowning slightly.

"You shouldn't let Ed bother you so," he told her quietly, and Lucy clung to him tightly.

"But...I thought...I thought...you would believe me," she choked. "the applesauce did have magic. You were dying, Peter..."

Peter gazed up at the ceiling, not quite sure what to say.

The Professor brought Susan, meanwhile, into his study, and shut the door so the two of them would not be bothered. He sat down at his great oak desk, which was cluttered with an assortment of papers, books, and other strange objects. Susan had never been inside the Professor's study, and found it fascinating indeed! "Now," Professor Kirke began, peering over his spectacles, "what happened?"

Susan sat down in one of the chairs before the desk, and folded her hands awkwardly about her lap. "Well," she began, "you see...Lucy...she thinks she's discovered a magical land inside of a wardrobe in the spare room upstairs. She said she found it the day Peter got very sick, and won't quit going on about it! I understand it is perfectly safe to have an imagination, sir, but..."

"What was it like?" Professor Kirke asked, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Why, it was like talking to someone who has lost her mind!" Susan exclaimed, and the Professor shook his head.

"No, no, you misunderstand me. What was the world like...did she describe it at all to you?"

Susan thought for a moment. "Well, no...she just mentioned a faun called Mr. Tumnus, and that it was winter there. She said Edmund came into the wardrobe too, but that can't be true, because he said he was just pretending it all happened."

Professor Kirke tapped his fingers together, looking very odd in deed. "Aha, Edmund." he cleared his throat. "a point, my dear. Which, if you were to choose between them, of your youngest siblings is the most reliable? That is to say, which is the one that is the most truthful?"

Susan could hear Peter break into another sneezing fit, and felt her fingers squeezing the armrests on the chair tightly. "That's just the funny thing about it, Professor," she began softly. "Up until this point, I would have said Lucy in a heartbeat."

"Well, then!" the Professor leaned back against his chair.

"But I don't think she's necessarily lying, sir," Susan continued. "Peter and I think there may be something worse going on..."

"Madness, you mean?" the Professor asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Oh, there is no worry at all about that. One merely has to look into Lucy's eyes and see she is not mad."

"You mean...she may be telling us the truth?" Susan asked; this was by far the last conversation she was expecting to have had with the Professor. "But Professor…that's not logical…"

The Professor gave a snort of disgust. "Logic, she says. What is it they are teaching young people in school these days?" he leaned forward. "No, there is logic here, my dear, and it is perfectly clear, you understand? There are three things that we must put into place. First, is that your sister is in deed telling the truth, because you said all of her life she's never once told a lie, and why should she start now? Secondly, I mentioned the fact that she is not mad, so clearly, she must be telling the truth."

"You said there was a third thing, sir," Susan said. "you've only mentioned two…"

The Professor smiled at her. "The third," he began, "is something I do wish you and your siblings would think of more often. And that," he continued, "is the idea of minding your own business."

Susan looked startled, but the Professor merely chuckled. "There now. I do believe Macready will be back soon with the doctor, and everything will be set to right's again."

"Oh…" Susan breathed. "Professor, do you think Peter is really and truly well?"

The Professor glanced at her. "Believe me, my dear girl, I know he is. I of all people, should truly know."

Susan nodded, thanking him for his time, and scurried out of the room. When she had shut the door behind her, the Professor stood, looking at an old wooden box that sat at the corner of his desk. It was covered with dust from not being touched in over fifty years, though when the sunlight hit it at a certain angle, it seemed to glow. He reached for it, picking it up, and held it is in his weathering hands for a moment.

He opened it at last, after clearing the dust off the lid with a blow, and peered in. Nestled deep within the blue velvet folds, sat two rings: one yellow, and one green. "Narnia," he whispered, sitting down again. He dared not touch the rings, no in deed he didn't. The last time he and his childhood friend Polly came across these rings, they entered the strange world for the first time. In fact, Narnia had not even been created yet when the Professor entered it…he and Polly had fallen into a strange land with a bright red sky, and a castle all in ruins. When he'd rang the gong after reading the magical inscription, they'd awoken the Queen Jadis, who later became the feared White Witch.Though Lucy hadn't mentioned him yet, Professor Kirke had seen Aslan, the great Lion, and watched with his very own eyes, the creation of Narnia.

And in deed, Professor Diggory Kirke would have known about Peter's recovery after eating the applesauce, because he himself had brought an apple home from Narnia to cure his ailing mother. She'd been near death as well. He shut the box, and immediately set it aside again, gazing ahead. He did not wish to tell any of this to the children; he felt that they should discover the land themselves. What baffled him most, however, was that they'd been able to get in through the wardrobe. He'd tried to enter again before, but it hadn't worked at all. 'Perhaps, as I've thought,' he wondered quietly to himself as he glanced down at his manuscript; the one that told his story, "if you can only enter when you're not looking for it." He cleared his throat, settling back down in his chair, and picked up his pen. "Fascintating, magic is," he muttered to himself.

Mrs. Macready arrived with Dr. Barnaby around lunchtime, and Susan was helping Peter finish another bowl of porridge. The physician was astounded when he realized Peter's fever had broken, for he clearly and truly thought the boy was going to die. "He still has a bit of a head cold," he told Mrs. Macready. "and a dry cough, but that is the least of our worries. I am completely confuddled, I must admit, Ma'am."

"How long will I have to stay in bed, sir?" Peter asked, still holding onto Lucy. "I'm feeling anxious to go outdoors and get fresh air again."

"I suppose this afternoon wouldn't hurt, lad," the doctor told him. "Perhaps a small cot or something can be moved onto the lawn, and he can lay down. I would not encourage any running about for at least a week. Though the danger has passed, I do not want to risk a relapse by having you overexert yourself."

"Yes, sir," he replied softly.

"Very well," Mrs. Macready said. "We will allow you outdoors while it is still high noon, and warm. Susan, there is a cot that we keep folded up for extra guests in the hallway closet, that we will bring outside.

"Do you have a wheel chair of sorts?" the doctor added, and Macready looked at him. "I do not think the boy will be well enough to walk down the stairs.

"We will carry him, then," Macready replied. "No, the Professor is in excellent health, and is not in need of a wheel chair, I thank you."

Susan came back with the fold-up cot, and the Professor was once again, called in. Dr. Barnaby offered to carry Peter, who was dreadfully embarrassed, but too weak to even think about walking down the long flight of steps to the front door. They helped him dress in fresh slacks and a warm shirt, and wrapped a quilt around his shoulders. "Thank you," he grunted, as the doctor lifted him rather easily.

"Edmund?" Susan called through her bedroom door. "We're going outside."

Edmund peeped through the door, and saw the doctor carrying Peter down the hallway, and the Professor carrying the cot. He decided to join them, sick of being in the house.

Once outdoors, Peter was placed on the cot and propped up with many pillows (two of which Lucy carried herself), and wrapped tightly with the quilt. It was actually quite warm, but Peter still felt slightly chilled. "There we are," Dr. Barnaby said smiling. "You did give us all a right scare, lad, but I think you're going to be just fine. I'm just going to talk to your guardians in private, then. Carry on."

Dr. Barnaby led Professor Kirke and Mrs. Macready over to the far side of the lawn. "His heart is not going to be the same after the fever, I'm afraid," Dr. Barnaby told them quietly. "judging just how weak he is now. This illness took quite a bit from him."

"But you think he'll live a long life, doctor?" Professor Kirke asked, and Dr. Barnaby nodded.

"I believe so, as long as he makes sure to take care of himself. Have either of the parents been written to about this?"

Mrs. Macready shook her head. "It's wartime, doctor. Post is very unreliable," she replied, and Dr. Barnaby sighed.

"Well, I would prefer that his mother and father knew of the illness, though I suppose if you do not know where they are statioined…'

"The father is off fighting, but the mother we have not heard from since the children were brought to live with me," Professor Kirke explained, watching as Lucy fell back onto the grass beside Peter's cot, giggling as Susan began tickling her.

"I see. Well, if you hear anything from either parent, I would inform them at once."

"Of course," Professor Kirke agreed. "Thank you, Dr. Barnaby, for everything. I know it is not exactly convenient for you to come out this way…we are rather isolated."

Dr. Barnaby chortled. "No, no, I don't mind at all, sir."

"Shall I bring you back, then?" Mrs. Macready asked, leading the doctor into the house again. When the two of them walked through the front door, Professor Kirke caught Peter's eye, and the two of them smiled at each other.