Susan Of Narnia

Chapter Three: The Friends

An entire week of being lady of the house wasn't nearly long enough, for it was almost over, passed away in a blur of exciting activities, all of which involved Carl.

Carl Bryant was just a couple years older than Peter and almost too young to have been a soldier in a war. But he was not the sort to miss the thrill of a war, and had moved to his uncle's place in London so that he might enlist. Only mere months later, the rest of American men had taken up arms, too, coerced into the battle by the bombing at Pearl Harbor.

Susan knew that Carl was proud to be one of the earlier Americans in the war. And she was proud of him, too. Especially as it was what brought him to London and how they were re-acquainted, as she already knew his uncle and aunt through other social activities.

On a Saturday morning that proved to be a warm day for January, Carl pulled his automobile up to Susan's front door and blasted his car horn with one long and loud push.

Susan, already waiting for him just inside the door, laughed and ran outside.

Carl jumped out of the driver's seat at seeing Susan and opened the passenger door for her. "Don't you look pretty today," Carl grinned and wrapped his arms around Susan's waist.

Susan scooted past Carl and climbed into his automobile. The top part of the auto was pulled down, so Susan was grateful for her thick fur coat with its hood, though it wasn't nearly as bulky and warm as those coats long ago that she and her siblings played with at Professor Kirke's.

She grimaced at the remembrance of the fur coats and the memories that ensued with them. Why must she be always thinking of Narnia when she so hated it?

Susan waved to Carl's friends, Billy and Ralph, seated in the back with their girls, Martha and Betty, crowded between the both of them. Both of the girls held picnic baskets.

One of them, Billy, said, "And Susan doesn't look pretty all the other days?"

Carl took his place behind the wheel and switched gears forward. The automobile sputtered down the street.

When Carl didn't answer, Billy jabbed Carl in the back.

"Ow!" Carl shouted. "Of course." At those last words, Carl turned to Susan and winked.

She blushed and turned away from Carl. The wind blew her hair into her face, so Susan pulled her hood up. "What are we doing today?" Susan asked.

"I thought we'd go for a drive in the country then have a picnic."

"Not that we'll last long this time of the year," Betty, a round but fair girl, grumbled in the back, probably upset to not be the woman at the center of the previous flirtations.

Past the confinements of the city streets and home walls and onto the dirt road leading to the country outside of London, Carl revved the gas and the cool air rushing back pushed harshly into Susan's face. Her short hair tangled into her hood, but Susan giggled—until the the cold wind choked her and then she closed her mouth.

The men in the back yelled despite the wind and their girls laughed, too.

Carl dropped a hand from the steering wheel and squeezed Susan's hand that had been noticeably clutching at her heart. "Am I going too fast for ya?"

"No," Susan laughed.

Maybe it was too fast, but Carl knew how to make anything into a good time. Her hand warmed under his touch.

After a little bit of a drive, they stopped near a frozen pond. Martha and Betty brought out their baskets and handed Susan a blanket to spread.

The men chased each other near the ice as if school boys, Carl at their center. Susan admired them, standing near the blanket she had spread out.