Chapter 2


Edmund was fairly certain that if he did not do something quickly, Susan would likely try to bite Lucy's head off. Seeing as he loved both his sisters, this did not seem like an agreeable outcome. Therefore, he stepped hurriedly between the two girls with a smile plastered on his face. "Susan, would you care to join me on a walk?"

Susan did not move her glaring eyes from Lucy's unhappy face. "I really don't have time, Edmund…"

A gentle but firm hand on her arm stopped the excuse. She looked up into Edmund's dark eyes. "Su. Please. Just a short walk."

"Fine," she growled, and stormed over to the hall closet to grab her autumn coat. It was rather chilly outside, so brother and sister were sure to wear coats and scarves as they stepped out of the house and headed for the neighborhood park.

Edmund offered Susan his arm, but she rolled her eyes at him. "I am perfectly capable of walking without any help, Ed," she snapped, still angry over her most recent argument with Lucy, which had come all-too close after yet another argument with Peter. Susan instantly felt bad for it; of all her siblings, Edmund was the only one who did not seem to go out of his way to annoy her, and she did not want to drive away the one person who she could actually converse with when at home.

She need not have worried. Where Peter might have been hurt at her rejection, or Lucy confused, Edmund just nodded and stuck his hands in his coat pockets. He knew that she was just lashing out, and willingly let himself be the target of her anger so that it might cool in being released. For that same reason, the beginning of their walk was silent and brief, Edmund allowing the sharp air and hard pace to bring a semblance of calm to his sister.

By the time they reached the lake in the middle of the park, though, their walk had slowed and Susan seemed to be breathing easier. A look at Susan told Edmund that she was feeling slightly ashamed of her behavior; but she was also giving him wary looks that indicated that she was worried about what he wanted to talk to her about. So the young man initiated the conversation by inquiring into the health of his sister's friends, allowing her to discuss the things in life she enjoyed: being with friends, going to parties, wearing pretty clothes.

Finally, Susan ran out of things to talk about and they lapsed into silence again. After awhile, Susan sighed. "Alright, Edmund, out with it," she insisted, her tone hinting at annoyance.

Edmund looked truly puzzled. "Out with what?"

"You think I should pretend along with you and Peter and Lucy, go along with the Narnia game we used to play." It was what all the arguments seemed to be these days, Susan insisting that Narnia was a game, Lucy getting upset, Peter not understanding.

"Actually, I don't think you should."

That surprised Susan. She could tell that he was being perfectly honest with her, but she did not understand how he could have such an opposite thought to Lucy and Peter. Especially Peter, since Edmund had a tendency to follow his brother's lead in everything. "What?"

Edmund led them to a park bench and they sat down. His face was serious, eyes set with clarity. "I don't think you should have to believe that Narnia is real."

"But…Lucy and Peter…"

He shrugged. "Lucy and Peter believe Narnia is real because they can't conceive of any other possibility; they have too much faith not to believe. I believe Narnia is real because of what I learned from it, how I changed in its light. But that change is not dependent on Narnia's reality, because I found the same thing here. By also believing in Narnia, it just makes the light I found so much more real." Edmund looked sharply at his sister. "Susan, you don't have to believe in Narnia, for precisely the reason we can't go back there: we have to find Aslan in this world."

Susan shook her head, leaning back against the bench with her arms crossed. "Aslan was just someone we made up, Edmund. He doesn't exist."

Peter would have blazed at the blasphemy, Lucy might have cried. Edmund only nodded. "Perhaps we did make up a Talking Lion. Perhaps we created the idea of a Stone Table, imagined that he died for my treachery and then came back to life. But don't you see, Susan? Even if all that was a story, it still happened. It happened here. And he didn't just die to save me, he died to save everyone."

Susan grimaced as she finally understood what Edmund was talking about. She should have known that his going to church would come to this. Susan stood, re-wrapping her scarf around her neck, very clearly indicating that she wished to go. "I really don't care to have you try and evangelize me, Ed. Though I am glad to see that you understand that Narnia was partly inspired by the Bible stories Mum and Dad used to tell us."

Edmund frowned, but still stood so that they could continue walking back to the house. "That's not…Susan, that's not what I mean. Narnia was not inspired by Bible stories; they are similar because God decided to act in a similar fashion in two worlds. But what is important is that you realize…"

Susan spun towards him, angrily. "No! I don't care, Edmund. I'm happy the way I am. I don't need to be saved from anything, so don't bother me about it!"

Knowing that pushing the issue at the moment would just cause her volatile temper to explode, Edmund wisely restrained from speaking about it any more. They walked the rest of the way in almost complete silence, save for a superficial conversation about the weather and school. Right at the front gate, though, Edmund stopped her. Susan gave him a warning glare, but he ignored it. "Susan, just please, promise me something."

"What?" she snapped.

He slipped a small, leather-bound book from his pocket and handed it to her. "Take this. You don't have to even read it now. Just…keep it for when you need it." There was no doubt in his mind that someday she would certainly need the book. In fact, he had the chilling feeling that she would need it so very soon.

Susan sighed as she read the gold letters on the cover, spelling out 'The Holy Bible'. "Why must you push this Edmund?"

He smiled and kissed her hair; though younger he was still taller than his sister. "Because blue is my favorite color," he said simply and walked through the gate and into the house, his sister at his side.

.

Three weeks later, Susan again walked into the dark house, this time alone. She took off her black, veiled hat and slipped off her black gloves. Her pale face was set in determination as she walked resolutely into her room and picked up the Bible from where it had lain, forgotten, in her desk drawer. With grim purpose she passed by the flowers that had been sent "in condolence for her loss" from various people she barely knew and could not care less about. Standing next to the cold fireplace, she threw the book in with a vicious growl. Shaky hands took the matches from the mantelpiece. Striking one, Susan's red-rimmed eyes were transfixed by the flickering flame. She hesitated and, when the flame got too close to her fingers, she quickly blew it out. Sending a glare towards the fireplace, she threw the matches down and stormed off, leaving the book lying in the ashes.

Each day afterwards she performed the same ritual, holding the lit match above the fireplace until the last possible moment before blowing it out, unable to bring herself to complete the act that could free her from her mocking words. I'm happy the way I am. I don't need to be saved. I'm happy the way I am. Instead she screamed, she cried, she stared numbly into nothingness. She grieved and she hated, hated the world and God and herself.

And then, one day, she found that there were no more matches in the matchbox. Her ritual now impossible, she stared a moment before taking a deep breath and plucking the book from the fireplace. Susan took it into the boys' room and sat at Edmund's desk. She pulled out a handkerchief and gently wiped away the ash and soot from the cover, before opening it.

The book opened easily to a well-worn page. Pencil markings underlined a short verse. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

Susan felt a knot form in her throat, but she shook her head to try and drive it away. She went to shut the book, but her eyes caught a flash of color that they had not seen before through her blurry vision. There, marking the page, marking the verse, marking Edmund's last words, was a long ribbon of indigo blue.

She shakily pulled it from the crease of the book. It was slightly tattered at the edge, and permanently wrinkled as she rubbed it between her thumb and fingers. In a sharp motion, Susan crumbled the blue ribbon in her fist. Clutching it to her chest, Susan wept.


.