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| "Happily, Susan addressed a final invitation to a certain dark-haired someone...." |
Finally, the long-awaited holiday arrived, and Peter began
to discuss with Susan the idea of hosting a holiday party.
[…]
Invitations were sent accordingly, and the responses came in
short order. Eustace even asked to bring a school-chum of his, a certain Jill
Pole. "We have a lot to tell you," he hinted in his letter.
Susan wondered what their cousin meant, but Peter suggested
replying in the affirmative. As she was writing the reply, Susan saw an
opportunity. "Since we're letting Eustace bring a friend," she asked
Peter, "might I invite one as well?"
Peter's eyes twinkled mischievously. "What happened to
your small party, Su?"
Susan rolled her eyes, and Peter laughed, "You may
invite whomever you want, it's all right with me."
Happily, Susan addressed a final invitation to a certain
dark-haired someone. Perhaps if He were
there, she wouldn't feel so vulnerable.
The day of the party came, but it did not turn out as
"safe" as Susan hoped it would be. Benton was late in coming, and the
bulk of what Eustace and Jill "had to tell" turned out to be their
most recent adventure in—where else?—Narnia.
"It couldn't possibly have been anywhere else!"
Susan groaned to herself. She tried to change the subject. "That's a very
beautiful dress you're wearing, Jill."
The girl shrugged. "It's Narnian, what can I say? I
wonder that you and Lucy don't have dresses of your own."
Susan stiffened; would Benton ever show up? Finally, she
heard a knock at the door. "Benton!" she cried happily when she
answered it. There he stood, with snow in his dark hair, a twinkle in his eye,
and a cake in his hands. "Come in!" she welcomed him, accepting the
cake and setting it on the table with the rest of the Christmas goodies
prepared by the women of the house.
Susan introduced Benton to everyone else, but just at that
moment, the festive Christmas spirit had set her brothers and sister
reminiscing about "that first Narnian Christmas." Susan worried that
Benton would feel left out, so she directed him to the sofa on the far side of
the room, away from everybody else. Benton tried to wave off her concern for
him, but it was obvious that he did feel somewhat like an intruder. Susan was
intent on showing him that all his teachings had not been in vain, and soon she
and Benton were comfortably chatting away, uneasiness completely forgotten.
Presently, Lucy ran up and seized Susan's hand. "Oh
Susan! We need another couple for the Snow Dance Eustace learned in Narnia!
It's great fun! Won't you join us?"
Susan froze. She could feel Benton's eyes bearing on her.
Unbidden, the memory leapt up in her mind of the marvelous Narnian dances, far
more intricate and enjoyable than any in England. Would Benton really think ill
of her if she appeared to humor her sister? But, truly, she thought, after all
he's done for me, would it be discouraging to him?
Susan nursed in herself a desire to prove her merit to
Benton. "Oh," she said pettishly, as she knew he would want her to,
"there you go with Narnia again!" She sighed in that grown-up-memory
way that is so aggravating to children, "What wonderful memories you kids
still have! Fancy your still thinking about those funny games we used to play
when we were children!" She glanced triumphantly at Benton, eager to bask
in his burst of congratulation.
But the only "burst" that came was the tears from
poor Lucy's eyes. She was too crushed to speak, but only rushed out of the
room, crying. Susan's sensitive heart pricked her terribly, and she suddenly
realized in humiliation that the whole room had heard her unfeeling comment,
and not only Benton.
Benton himself, seeing the start of a potential family feud
and having no desire to be caught in the middle, whispered to Susan, "I'll
wait outside."
Susan grasped his hand as he left, "Benton, wait . .
." What had gone wrong? She saw Benton, waiting in the entryway. Good, he
had not left; now Peter confronted her.
"Susan, what is the matter with you?"
Susan attempted an air of nonchalance, but in her
bewilderment it came across more like insolence. "Don't know what you mean,"
she returned.
"You know very well what I mean, Susan Pevensie!"
Peter's tone was more stern than Susan had ever heard him
use, except as K—no! She mustn't!
Peter continued, "Ever since you've taken up with that
Benton fellow, you've put on airs and been altogether miserable! And now you've
wounded your own sister with your pride, just as Edmund did under the influence
of the White Witch!"
Susan's temper flared at the insinuation, and she set her
jaw. "The White Witch doesn't exist, Peter! I wonder what's gotten into
you, that you believe it's all still real! I can't believe you're encouraging
it! You've got to face the facts Peter! The game is over! You may be
older in years, but I don't believe you're really grown up until you realize
that Narnia is dead."
>>>>>>
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