Susan Of Narnia

Chapter Two: The Church

The best nights were the nights Susan slept through and never dreamed. Thankfully, the majority of her nights were such nights. But after the Pevensies broke their New Year's Eve gathering and headed to bed, Susan's eyes closed and she dreamed.

She dreamed of battles, of evil men wishing to marry her, of a white stag that would take away everything they'd fought for and deposit them back into another world as children ...

Susan awoke on the morning of the first, shaking with unresolved emotions. She shouldn't be sad. She reminded herself, "None of it was real. None of it." Sunlight poured in from her frosted window and played on her coverlet.

She closed her eyes and remembered seeing Aslan's face last night in the mirror Lucy had given her. Had Lucy been playing a trick on her? Susan knew it was no trick, but her imagination messing with her. She opened her eyes to forget how real Aslan had seemed, to see the real world.

Just as it had always been, it was harder to forget Aslan than it had been to forget Narnia. Because he had felt real—and so had her hurt when he'd told her she couldn't come back again. So had her anger when she'd first said Narnia was all a game. It was Aslan's fault. If he really wanted her to believe in the place, why would he had ever told her she was too old for Narnia?

Susan laughed at herself. "It's silly to be angry at someone that you made up."

It was easy to not believe in Narnia. No, it had been harder to believe in it, even when she was younger. For everything of Earth said that everything of Narnia must be pure fantasies. And believing in what wasn't real made you odd. Susan never wanted to be odd, but well-liked.

A knock sounded on Susan's bedroom door.

Susan sat up in her bed and said, "Yes?"

"We are about to go to leave for church—will you come with us?" Mrs Pevensie's voice traveled through from outside.

Feeling suddenly exhausted from her dream filled night, Susan stifled a groan. Church had lost its allure to Susan long ago. "I don't know, Mum ... I didn't sleep well last night."

There was silence for a moment, then Mrs Pevensie asked, "May I come in?"

Susan smoothed her hair and straightened her bed covers. "I suppose ... "

The door clicked then opened and Mrs Pevensie walked in, dressed very nicely. Though Mrs Pevensie was older, she was still quite pretty. Susan was reminded of when she'd wanted to be just like her Mum. But those wishes were long ago—Susan was nothing like Mrs Pevensie.

Mrs Pevensie sat on the edge of Susan's bed, blocking most of the sunlight. "What is happening to you, Susan?"

"Nothing—I don't think I shall be sick. Just need more rest."

"No. I mean you. You always have an excuse to not attend church or do things with your siblings. What has happened to our caring, gentle Susan who loved giving to others and singing loudly to God?"

Susan's cheeks flushed. She picked at the hem of her blankets. "I still love you, Mum."

"But God?" Mrs Pevensie persisted.

"Of course I do," Susan stammered as she tried to look into her mother's eyes and failed. "I've just ... "

"Grown up?" Mrs Pevensie finished for Susan.

Susan wanted to argue but found she had no words.

"Dear Susan, one is never too old for God. In fact, the older we grow, the more we need Him."

"I understand," Susan said, wishing her mother would be done speaking and leave already.

Thinking of God was like thinking of ... Aslan. Once they'd been one and the same to Susan. She'd never meant to stop loving God. But for some reason, when she'd forgotten Narnia, God didn't seem so real anymore.