"Timeless" - Narnian Autumn Writing Challenge - Oneshot Collection

"I Do"

Word count: 1260

Prompt: Red and brown

Dazzling, simple, flowery and sweet. The scent of the rose bouquets was still fresh in her mind; dainty and red. The lace carefully sewn onto her dress with swirling patterns still striking in her memory.

Helen Pevensie always could remember her wedding day well, but on her wedding anniversary, today, she remembered it so vividly that it was almost like she was back in time.

She could remember her mother's smile, could remember exactly what color red her sister Alberta wore, could remember the twinkle in her father's eyes and the passion and devotion in Christopher's bright blue eyes.

Smoothing a hand over her pearly veil, the embroidered flowers so delicate, Helen breathed in the scent of the perfume still lingering on it, tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them away.

To her left, in the hat box where she kept her veil, roses lined the bottom, scattered and dead. Brown with age.

How had it been nearly thirty years of marriage already? Life had gone by in a blur, and it hadn't ever seemed to slow down.

Their kids seemed to have grown faster than they should've, and Helen wanted to go back.

She wanted to go back to when Peter was blissfully happy, giggling over everything his wonderstruck eyes saw. When he saw Christopher being authoritative, and then tried to copy it, sounding much meeker and funnier than his father. When he helped little Susan do her schoolwork, smiling and patiently waiting for her to understand.
Peter's little blonde head of hair, bouncing up and down when he came to tell her something.

She wanted to go back to when Susan was learning to bake with her, learning how to be careful in the kitchen, realizing her tiny hand was frightfully too small for the burgundy oven mitt. When Susan realized that the eggs they used, once could've been chicks, and then crying over that matter for days. Those little arms hugging her tight, trying to comfort her mother.

She wanted to go back to when Edmund would scream and cry and sulk around, wanting nothing to do with his siblings, glaring at everyone- until he was fed, or until Christopher held him and gently flew him around in his strong hands, playing "plane". Those big brown eyes, blinking in a false innocence after he'd done something bad.

She wanted to go back to when Lucy would get scared at night because of a storm or a scary shadow and would come running into her arms, and then she would insist upon hearing a fairytale. When Lucy tripped and hurt her knee, but she still helped care for a sick Peter, putting aside her hurt. That little smile when Helen got to the part of the story with the prince in it.

And then the war happened, then Christopher left to fight, to defend, and then the bombings started.

Then she had to send her children away, to the country, Peter- a boy trying to be a man too early, Susan- a girl taking on too many responsibilities, Edmund- a hurting boy who needed his mum and dad, Lucy- a girl believing there was more good in the world than there truly was.

Alone and afraid, grieving the life they were torn away from.

Which had left Helen, crumbling apart, watching out the window for when the soldier would come to tell her that her husband was dead.

Struggling to take care of everything by herself. Working because that was all she had left to do.

Praying, but never thinking it would be answered, never really believing.

Crying, because she missed them all.

It seemed too much one day, the heavy burden of loneliness casting a large shadow over her heart, she didn't think she could go on much longer.

On that day, someone knocked on her door for the first time in forever. She opened it, slowly and her heart leaped.

Christopher. Back from the war, perhaps stronger, perhaps more shattered. She hadn't cared much right then, she was simply glad he was back.

Her Christopher was back.

And he held her like he always had, firmly, gently- his Helen.

He kissed her like he always had, passionately, sweetly.

Finally, she had someone to cling to, someone was holding her. After so long, she had her husband back.

A knock on the door startled Helen out of her memories.

She looked up, slightly moved her wedding veil to the side, and stood from the table, out of the dining room, to the living room, and over to the door. Opening it slowly, she peeked over the sunshine.

There, light shining past his figure, Christopher stood, smiling, a bouquet of red roses in his right hand.

"Helen," He stepped closer and she nearly burst into tears.

This was how it had been when he came back from the war, quiet and steady, and she had hugged him so tightly, fearing it was all a dream.

Closing the distance between them, he wrapped his arms around her, setting the roses down on the nearby side table.

For minutes, this was how they stayed, enjoying the closeness, enjoying the comfort, being together.

Helen broke from the hug, "It's our anniv-"

"I know. I remembered." He snatched the roses back up from the side table and gave them to her, a bit of boyish charm sneaking onto his face.

Clutching the flowers to her chest, she bit her lip and swallowed hard, "Christopher..."
Then she moved to get a vase in the kitchen, grabbed one from the cupboards, filled it with water from the tap, and then went back to the dining room table and put it down.

As she put the roses into the water, she turned to smile at her husband. He grinned back, coming over to where she had her veil spread out on the table.

Christopher hugged her from behind and leaned down to kiss her cheek. Grasping his hand she moved to pick up the hat box full of dead rose petals.

She sat down at the table and dumped out the articles inside, watching them flutter around, a whirlwind of beauty.

Sitting down beside her, he picked up a dried petal and shook his head, "They're dead, ugly now." Turning it in his hand, he made a disgusted face, then drove a hand through his blonde hair.

Helen selected a muted brown petal and ran a finger across the edge, admiring the old age and the lines the flower had obtained. Then she looked up at the new roses, admired their beauty, and loved their scent. But the dead roses held meaning just as the new ones did, in each petal lay a story. In each new red petal, there was a story not yet told.

"Not ugly, Christopher," She took his hand and squeezed it, "Besides, they're like old memories, and the fresh roses are like memories yet to be lived out. Both will last forever."

Their eyes connected. The rush of cars outside barely was noticeable.

He kissed her soundly and then cupped her cheek, "Forever like us."

From happiness, Helen could've exploded, together; forever, her Christopher was right.

And she wouldn't go back, even if she missed the time before the war, because she loved now.

She loved her life- even if it had been hard, she loved what their entire family had gone through together. Together.

For once, it felt like life was slowing down right now, as she and her husband sat together.

Remembered together.

Old and new.