The fourth day of their stay finally yielded to their impatience by dawning dry and clear. Caity wasted no time in preparations for a day outside, and was fully ready by the time Peter appeared for breakfast.
"Gimme ju-ju-just a minute," he yawned sleepily. The previous night had been another late one. Caity was curious about any other Narnia stories, and Peter had obliged with how Jadis, the queen from another world, had reappeared and taken Narnia as her own kingdom. It was a very sad, and lengthy, story.
Soon they were underway. Peter insisted on carrying the basket, all the while pointing out the many details of the property and occasionally divulging some funny incident connected to them. Caity couldn't take it in fast enough. Everything was so fresh and different and wild somehow, compared to London.
"And here is probably our most frequented spot," Peter was saying. "Both shade and sun for picnics and games, the stream for swimming—you don't have to, of course."
"I would love to if we come down here again, but for now, the walk has made me tired," replied Caity, flopping on the freshly-spread blanket. "Why don't we go ahead and eat lunch?"
"Agreed."
They enjoyed the food and peaceful atmosphere for several minutes without speaking. Caity still couldn't keep her mind from being amazed at the scene around them. She may not be acquainted with Peter's Aslan, but she could understand why the character felt real out here.
"It's almost magical," she breathed.
"What?" Peter asked through a mouthful of apple.
"I said this feels almost magical," she repeated, and smacked his arm playfully. "Weren't you listening?"
Peter cowered in mock fear. "Yes, yes, I was listening!" But the use of both arms to cover his head meant that he could no longer prop himself up on the gentle slope, and he nearly rolled into the stream. He returned laughing, though, so apparently no harm had been done.
"Yes, I heard you; I was just caught off guard that you suddenly voiced your thoughts. It does feel magical out here—that's why I picked this spot. It reminds me of Narnia."
"Narnia! Of course!" Caity gazed around, smiling, viewing her surroundings with new eyes. "Speaking of which, what's the next part of the story?"
Peter cocked a sly eyebrow. "What makes you think there is one?"
"Oh Peter, surely the White Witch doesn't reign victorious forever. And the prophecy you mentioned. Surely something comes of it. That can't be the end!"
"Alright, alright. There is more to it, a lot more. After one hundred years of winter, without Christmas, a strange thing happened in Narnia…" And he proceeded to tell Caity about four children who found their way into Narnia, and how they defeated the White Witch to become Kings and Queens at Cair Paravel. Caity could imagine Peter as the oldest, a big brother struggling to feel confident in his responsibilities to his family and Narnia. Not to mention that he looked the part very well.
"I wish I could see Narnia someday," she sighed as they headed back to the house. It was nearly suppertime, and the sun was beginning to set in all its glory.
"That would be nice," agreed Peter. "But only children are allowed to come to Narnia. We'd be too old."
"Spoil sport. We're not quite grown up yet, you know. I think Aslan would make an exception."
"Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't. He doesn't always make decisions for one's happiness; he does what he believes is best."
Caity pondered the glowing scenery around her. "Then what if we brought a piece of it here? We both agree it reminds us of Narnia."
"And how would we do that? We're not that young anymore, either."
"If we can enjoy playing hide-and-seek, we can let our imaginations wander from time to time," Caity pointed out. "You tell stories in excellent detail. If you know your characters, it's not hard to apply them wherever you want. It's not like anyone come across us, and besides—" The rest of her explanation was cut off by a yelp of surprise as she stumbled on the slope. Peter caught her arm.
"Are you okay?"
Caity took a moment to regain her composure. "Yes, thank you. I must have slipped on a smooth patch of grass." She was careful not to betray any sign of the thought that had crossed both of their minds.
"Anyway, you were saying?"
"Oh yes. Narnia seems to be built on the foundation of 'believing is seeing.' The problem about growing up is sometimes we lose that ability. You taught me that."
She could see that she'd won Peter over. "And it's not like we're going to be running around, battling ogres and witches. Just…experiencing it. For what it is."
So the outings continued whenever possible. It was their secret, when they went out to explore "Narnia." Once or twice, they even wore their bathing suits under their clothes so as to swim in the stream when it got hot. However, Caity continued to hide from Peter the fact that the long trek was becoming difficult for her to manage. She didn't want to lose the wonderful escape she'd found, even though she knew it was only a matter of time before he was bound to notice. Two, three weeks passed, and she still couldn't bring herself to tell him.
"Are you feeling well? You're looking a bit peaky."
"Hmm? Oh, it might just be the shade. I'm a little tired, though. The warm day has put me in the mood for a nap."
"Maybe we should head back, then. It is getting late, but you could still catch your nap before dinner."
Caity allowed Peter to help her up, and they set out for the house. Suddenly the familiar journey seemed longer and more exhausting than she remembered; an odd dizziness began to wash over her. She was having difficulty keeping up, for Peter could take longer strides to begin with. Everything felt stiff. A wave of panic brought the realization that she was going to pass out.
"Pe-Peter," she gasped. "I think I might…" But everything went black before she could finish.
"Her mother would have loved all of this," Dr. Miller told the Professor. They'd taken the habit of tea on the back lawn, and long, educated conversations while they watched for the young couple to return from their almost daily jaunts. "When I see Caity these days, I see Margaret."
"She died in 1929, God rest her soul, of an extremely rare motor neuron disease. There is no cure and essentially no way of surviving it. What worries me is that Caity is going to inherit it from her mother."
"Well, she seems healthy and active enough to me. It's a shame I never had children."
"Yes, they really are a blessing."
"Dr. Miller! Professor Kirke!"
Peter came staggering up the lawn, cradling a limp form in his arms.