"Dr. Miller! Professor Kirke!"
Peter came staggering up the lawn, cradling a limp form in his arms. Both older men rushed to help. "What's happened?"
"She just passed out on the journey back," Peter gasped. "But she said she was fine up until then."
"Dear God," Dr. Miller whispered, horrified. He scooped Caity up to take her to her room, while the Professor called for a doctor. Peter was left to catch his breath and feel utterly helpless.
The wait was unbearable. The nearest specialist took an hour to arrive, and then he and Dr. Miller held an extensive discussion with the bedroom door closed. All Peter could do was sit in the hallway. As soon as it opened, he was up at attention.
Dr. Miller beat him to the punch. "I should have been watching more carefully. The disease has worked heavily on her legs; Dr. Hammond believes she might be able to walk for another week or two. She certainly won't be able to manage the hills anymore. I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? This isn't your fault, Dr. Miller! You care for her even more than I do. Don't give up in her yet." Peter paused for a moment to regain his composure. "There has to be something we can do. Anything."
"I wish there were," murmured Dr. Miller. "But all that we have available would only serve to make her comfortable. I'm simply at a loss, just like before…" He wandered vaguely towards the kitchen.
Peter swallowed the hard lump that had appeared in his throat. Caity's believed good stamina had lulled him into avoiding the realization that she was sick. Now the truth had finally come back in full force, and it seemed here to stay. She soon would never walk again.
When he entered Caity's room, the slight girl was awake but drowsy. Pillows propped her frighteningly limp body. A stab of fear and heartache threatened Peter's composure.
"Well you're looking sad as cold tea," jested Caity. When Peter didn't react the way she'd hoped, her gaze dropped to the coverlet. "It's not as bad as it seems."
"It's not? The doctor says in a couple weeks you'll no longer be able to walk!"
"I understand it's hard to watch, my father is in the same way, but I'm still—"
"You're dying!" Peter cried before he could stop himself. "And I'm just supposed to sit by and let it happen! I can't stand to think of it!"
Caity's smoky-blue eyes filled with tears. Apparently this reaction had been long in coming; even her hands shook with emotion. "I know. I know more than either of you ever could. Is it too much to ask if it's all I can do to keep myself from being scared?"
Instantly, the burst of frustration Peter felt crumbled. He rushed to sit on the edge of the bed, holding Caity tightly against his chest. What had possessed him to think that shouting the truth at her would make anything better? All it did was remind her of the situation she faced, which wasn't fair. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"
"I can't blame you for a natural reaction," Caity mumbled into his shirt. "I just don't want it to ruin the time I still have. I don't want to lose everything that you've given me."
"Sorry? What have I given you?"
"A will to live life, that wonderful sense of adventure that you have, Narnia…the past months have been more precious to me than I could ever have imagined."
Peter had to sniffle back his own tears. Then a loud gurgling sound disrupted the moment.
What was that?" he asked, confused.
Caity ventured a smile. "I think that was my stomach." They both gave in to nervous laughter.
"Well, dinner should be ready shortly."
"Peter?" Caity pulled away just enough that she could see his face. "Promise me something. Will you help make things has normal as possible? I still want to make the most of it as I can."
"If I'm capable, I'll do it. Of course, we can't disregard your dad entirely, if it comes to it."
"I know. But we have to start somewhere. For instance, dinner would be nice." She began to pull the bedcovers off so she could stand. In the urgency of the moment, she had been left fully-dressed. It took her a moment to steady herself.
"Will you be alright?" asked Peter.
"Yes. Yes, I think short distances will be manageable for awhile yet. And there are things in the house to help me."
She made it to the dining room without assistance. But the atmosphere at the table was a little more subdued than usual. Caity and Professor Kirke chatted amiably. Dr. Miller was quiet. Later, once they'd all gone to bed, Peter lay awake for hours yet, contemplating the weeks ahead. Could he really bear to watch her go through this?
Seeing her appear on her own at breakfast the next morning was encouraging, as if it had all been a bad dream. Even Dr. Miller was a little less dire.
"Come on, I want to get an early start," Caity finally said, tugging at Peter's hand. "The baby birds in the oak tree should be ready to fly any day now; I want to see them."
Peter caught the wary glance from Dr. Miller. "I'll take care of her, don't worry," he said as he was pulled out of the room. "Hey, slow down. You don't want to go tiring yourself out before we even start."
Caity looked at him shrewdly over her shoulder, but promptly stumbled over the back step. Peter caught her and stopped. When she met his gaze, her expression was sheepish. "It…it seems such a long way now…"
"We can find a closer spot, if we need to," Peter said gently. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"But I like our spot. I feel comfortable there."
"I know, but if you can't manage the distance…your father—"
"Peter, you promised not to do this." Caity's face was hurt, not argumentative. All she wanted was for things to feel normal.
"Tell, you what—how about if you hold the basket, and I'll carry you down to the stream? Would that be alright?"
Caity pondered the basket in Peter's hand. "I suppose. But I can't help feeling…like everything's slipping through my fingers, bit by bit. It's so hard to accept sometimes."
"I know. Come here." Peter set down the basket and hugged Caity. "I'm not going anywhere, as long as you want me to be here."
"Shall we, then?" Caity asked, with the smallest of smiles. She took up the basket, and clung tentatively to Peter's shoulders as he lifted her. Even going down hill, however, soon made his breathing difficult and his face shiny with sweat. He tried not to let his fatigue show.
"This is good enough," Caity pronounced as the oak tree came into sight. She kissed his cheek before sliding down and walking stiffly the rest of the way. "You know, sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if Father hadn't taken such a shine to you so early on. Needless to say he was a little protective of me, although he began dropping hints that I should be considering marriage soon, just before you came."
"That's a bit of a drastic jump, from no exposure to marriage. Isn't it a bit out of character, too, if he had such a grim outlook on your health?" Peter asked as they spread the blanket and sat down.
"Well, the pointlessness of relationships was mainly me, as a sort of retaliation to the change. Keep in mind that you can only be told something for so long before you begin to believe it yourself. I didn't have any close friends, and boys were certainly out of the question, at first. It was like Father expected me to pop off in the next five minutes. I suppose since I had lived this far, he thought it might be worth attempting some sort of normal life. Of course, by then, I had conceded to the fate he'd engrained into my thinking. Then you came along.
"Not only did you teach me to enjoy life, but you taught him as well, Peter. He has happiness to look back on, and I think that's what'll carry him through. He was trapped in his fears, you know. Losing me as he expected all along would have broken him in that state. We owe you so much."
She ended her speech by reaching for a sandwich in the basket, but Peter caught her hand. "You speak as if you were already gone. There's still time—you can fight this! There are survivors!" H knew he was being selfish and childish, but he couldn't give up hope yet.
Caity smiled. "I know. It's just such a small chance. As hard as it is to accept, I think I'd rather be prepared for the worst and maybe be surprised, than hope for the best and be disappointed. That's why Father tried to dissuade you from being part of our family; love means taking the journey together. Speaking of which, have you heard from your family lately?"
"Oh, I forgot to tell you—I'm sorry—your dad said it was still okay for them to come up for a visit. I received the letter today that they'll be arriving on the Sunday train…if it's still alright with you, of course."
"If? Of course it's still okay! I've been wanting to meet them ever so badly."
"Alright, alright, I was just making sure. I didn't want to create too much fuss for you." Peter slipped his arm loosely around Caity's waist. She tried to look stern of the gesture, but the smile creeping onto her face made it nearly impossible. Finally, she gave it up.
"That was sweet of you, thinking of my welfare first. I promise it won't be a bother at all."
She looked up at him; the dappled light tinted her gray-blue eyes to the clear color of the sky. Peter couldn't stop staring at them. Then he found himself moving closer, slowly. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. And yet, he kissed her as if he'd meant to all along.
Caity went scarlet, although it was some time before she broke it off. "I supposed it was only a matter of time before it happened. This has been more than a friendship for awhile, hasn't it?"
Peter shrugged. "I think we're just the last ones to realize it."
"Knowing is enough," Caity sighed. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "It helps to know you're here for me."