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May 4, 1949
Finchley and Edgware, London Borough of Barnet, England
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Lucy latched the gate with a slight pang of regret. In two weeks, she would go through this familiar ritual again. She would even tread this same path, walking the few short miles southwest from Finchley to Edgware, but she would not return.
There were those who doubted her decision, of course. Aunt Alberta had promptly driven down from Cambridge to give her parents a lecture about allowing her to "throw her life away." But Lucy had never felt so at peace as when she had said "yes," and this peace returned whenever she thought of what she was about to enter.
A nameless tune escaped her lips as she walked along the pavement. She did not notice for a few moments that it was an old ditty she had learned in Narnia, one that the fauns would sing to calm their children. The lines between the two worlds had blurred for Lucy; they could not return to Narnia, but it did not matter. She would still serve Aslan, though in a far different manner from any which she had ever imagined.
"I'm here," came a voice from beside her, to her surprise. "Thought it's about time you noticed."
"Oh, Owen!" Lucy exclaimed. She smiled as she noticed how her friend had positioned himself between her and the curb. He would have been a fine knight of Narnia… "I wasn't expecting to see you. Isn't it a bit early?"
"Early?" asked Owen, raising an eyebrow as he offered Lucy his arm. But he could not resist a tease. "Quite the thanks for saving you from wandering into the roadway, eh?"
"Oh, no, you took me by surprise! I thought you had classes till the evening," explained Lucy apologetically.
"Then I'm afraid your memory is as faulty as your sister's knowledge of her name," teased Owen Leakey, as the two shared a laugh at the memory of their first meeting, standing at a newsstand with a harassed Susan Phyllis Pevensie in between. Owen had become a fast friend of the family since, especially of Lucy. Being a friend of a queen had certainly improved his self-confidence, though he did not know exactly how that had come about.
But even then, he was slightly nervous as the two strolled along pleasantly. Finally, he mustered enough courage to speak the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for days. "I was actually looking for you," he admitted. "I wanted to ask you…well, you see…um, would you like to dine this Saturday, at The Catcher in the Rye? Just the two of us?"
Lucy sighed. She would have had to tell him sooner or later, and Owen had forced it to be sooner. "I take it you're asking me to go on a date?"
Owen tried hard not to stammer. "I suppose so," he said. "That is, yes. They have excellent roasts on weekends…"
The girl smiled and patted his linked arm. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Owen, but I'm…I suppose you could say, taken. Forever."
The young man's face fell, but he quickly regained his composure and his manners. "Oh, I had no idea. My sincere congratulations!" He glanced at Lucy's hand, and a slight furrow appeared on his forehead. "Who is it, may I ask?"
To his surprise, Lucy laughed. "Oh, you silly little owl, it's not what you think. I'm becoming a nun!"
Owen did not react to the avian appellation; he had long before discovered that Lucy enjoyed affixing the names of animals to those whom she liked. And he was thoughtful enough now not to blurt out his initial reaction to the last sentence. "I suppose that fits you," he finally said, slowly. "Is it the community in Edgware?"
"Yes, it is," said Lucy, a slight smile returning to her face at the very thought of the place. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before. I suppose I was a little afraid."
Owen nodded, with realization and acceptance setting in. "I suppose I ought to have guessed, with how much time you spend there. I thought it was just because you enjoyed helping with their patients."
"Oh, I do enjoy that, so much!" exclaimed Lucy. "It's not only for that reason I'm joining, though. It's hard to explain…but I want to serve God alone, and His people. When I'm there, helping the sisters, I feel that I'm at home."
Owen finally smiled. Ever the gentleman, he could see how Lucy lightened whenever she talked of what would be her new life. "And I'm sure that they'll love you. Lucy, I just wanted to thank you for all you've done for me. When I first met you, I was so lonely; I couldn't even look in the mirror without hating myself. Lord, I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry thinking about some of the things I did to make myself feel better, such as that incident with Susan. You and your family took me in…please don't laugh, but I almost feel like royalty when I'm with you." Lucy smiled at this but said nothing, so after taking a breath Owen continued. "But more importantly, you made me realize that being popular isn't as important as being myself, and I'll always be grateful for this."
The girl laughed. "Oh, Owen, you make it sound like we'll never see each other again. You can still visit! But you do have to understand that my duties will come first."
Owen removed his cap and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sure you made the right decision," he said quietly.
"The gentleman as always," Lucy commented with a smile. "But you'll come to understand. You're becoming a man, Owen, and I'm sure you'll be a good husband and father."
"I thought maybe…I hoped I could be that, with you," Owen admitted.
Lucy shook her head. "To tell the truth, so did I. But it only ran flesh-deep. What was in here, deep within, told me I had a different calling."
Owen nodded. "You said I'll come to understand. But I think I already do, and I…I love you all the more for that pure heart. You'll always have a place in mine, no matter what happens."
It was with a pang in her own heart that Lucy watched her dear friend walking away. Owen was now mature enough to find his own way through life, and he would indeed come to accept the separation. But no matter how long she had prepared for this moment, and no matter the joyful façade she had put on for his sake, it still hurt. A more selfish part of her longed to throw all her resolutions to the winds, to call out for him to return.
But she didn't, and it was with the set face of The Valiant that she turned to face her destination. There it was, the Anglican Benedictine Community of Saint Mary at the Cross. The red brick buildings with the white windows could not be missed in the neat rows of little houses that surrounded it, and yet it did not seem to impose itself on the surroundings but to fit seamlessly, like a heart to a body or a smile to a face. Here the poor and the sick found succor, tended by the inhabitants of those walls.
"Ah, my dear Lucy!" exclaimed an affectionate voice as Lucy entered the foyer of the hospital. "I wish I could greet you properly…"
Lucy settled that by taking half of the tottering tower of towels that Mother Perpetua was carrying and following her as she bustled from one room to another. She could not help comparing the nun to Mrs. Beaver, with her energy and great heart.
"It's so good of you to come and help again, but really, you should be spending this time with your family and friends," Mother Perpetua said in between greetings to patients and directions to the other nuns. "There'll be more than enough of this to satisfy you when you've joined us."
Lucy shook her head. "But I never feel as peaceful as when I'm here, Reverend Mother. Beside, my family had a farewell party on Saturday, and then I had dinner with my closest friends again on Sunday. I can't say farewell to people three times."
"Every moment is precious, my child," noted Mother Perpetua, "and someday having made those last farewells will give you comfort. But, my, my, James, your temperature's gotten worse…"
"I'll get some wet towels," exclaimed Lucy, and the next half hour was spent in caring for the grateful old man. This was work in which Lucy had years of experience. And though her acquired skill would never match her cordial's abilities, soon she and Mother Perpetua was able to sigh in relief that what had seemed to be a critical downturn had abated.
"Some very good friends will be leaving for foreign parts this weekend," Lucy said when they finally had a quiet moment. "Can you pray that they have profitable travels?"
"Oh, I certainly will," answered Mother Perpetua. "Where are they going, may I ask? Folk seem to be going everywhere these days, ever since the war. If only they could settle down and enjoy the peace…"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you, Reverend Mother," apologised Lucy. "But their task is very important."
"Oh, you youngsters are so secretive towards us old folk," chuckled Mother Perpetua. "But no matter."
A melodious tolling floated in the evening air, emanating from the tower of the little chapel. It seemed to capture the spirit of this place and what it meant to Lucy- it was so peaceful, and yet represented a call to duty, a reminder that she would be but one of many in this place. She, who had been a queen, would be subject to that metal tone. She would be separated from her family and friends; she could not have Owen. But she had chosen.
"The bell for Vespers," noted Mother Perpetua, taking off her apron and smoothing out the habit below. "You're welcome to join us, of course."
And so a few minutes later Lucy was seated in the nave of the chapel, watching and listening as the nuns chanted the ancient Hour of Vespers, the evening prayer marking the twilight of the day. Soon, she thought, she would be in the choir stalls with the others, joining their hymns…
Lucy had discovered Aslan in this world and she was sure that she had discovered what He wanted of her. She thought of the ermine, with its pure-white winter coat. There was an old legend that the creature would die rather than allow its whiteness to be soiled. So as pure as ermine would she remain, her life at the service of His people and at the calling of Him alone.
Pax. Peace. The motto of the nuns resonated for Lucy. The young woman scrupulously thought back to every time she believed she had failed Aslan. At the gorge on the way to find Prince Caspian, ought she to have gone to Him, regardless of what her family thought? How many times had she placed her own desires above what she knew to be right? But now she was at peace in this world.
Lucy Pevensie was finally willing to sacrifice all for Aslan. And He would grant her dearest wish, to be with Him forever.
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I do not own any of the actual places described in this chapter; neither do I own the characters, which belong to C.S. Lewis and Walden Media.
Note: I am not Anglican, but I imagine that C.S. Lewis's characters, like the man himself, would be.