Further Up & Further In

The Fourth

The sweet air grew suddenly sweeter, and a brightness flashed behind them. All turned. There stood, huge and real, the golden Lion, Aslan himself. Immediately they were kneeling in a circle around his forepaws and burying their hands and faces in his mane as he stooped his great head to touch them with his tongue.

"Well done, last of the Kings of Narnia who stood firm at the darkest hour," he said to Tirian. "Well done, sons of Adam and daughters of Eve."

Their smiles could not be hidden as they bowed their heads to him. But soon their stomachs turned, as Aslan's gaze held Peter, Edmund, and Lucy thoughtfully, before saying, "But where is the fourth?"

Peter and Lucy had heard this before. Edmund had not.

Peter met Aslan's gaze, and with great difficulty said, "My sister Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia." The look in Aslan's eyes seemed to match Peter's, and Peter ducked his head. He wondered for a moment whose sorrow was greater.

"Yes," Eustace offered, "and whenever we've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia, she says, 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

Jill scoffed. "Oh, Susan! She's interested in nothing nowadays except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen-" A sharp look from Aslan made her stop speaking.

All of them began feeling queer.

The resentment Peter had been allowing to build inside him suddenly made him sick to his stomach. He'd fought so long to make her remember. He'd invited her to every dinner, and talked about Narnia - and more importantly, Aslan - as often as he could. He'd fought for so long. But he'd let his stubbornness get the better of him, and he'd stopped reaching out, and he knew it. "Please, Aslan... is there anything we could have done? We tried. I swear we tried. Did we do something wrong?"

"Her whole idea is to race to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can," Polly explained. "Grown-up, indeed. I wish she would grow up." But just as quick, Aslan turned to her, and she paled. She'd never gotten to know Susan as well as she would've liked. When the Pevensies were younger, and had first returned from Narnia, they had spoken quite a bit, but Susan had pushed her away following their second trip. Polly felt she had understood her pain, but much of her sympathy had vanished as Susan pulled further away.

"I fought with her," Lucy confessed. "The last time we spoke. We fought." Lucy'd fought longer than even Peter to help her sister remember, but her anger surfaced far too easily. It hurt Lucy that Susan had forgotten, and Lucy never had responded well to hurt.

Aslan had been listening silently as they tried to explain, and none of them were sure what to make of it. All of them recalled the times they'd spoken sharply to her, or bad-mouthed her when she was away. They remembered now the ways they pushed her away instead of welcoming her in the way they'd been trying to.

Edmund asked the question they were all thinking. "Is it our fault, Aslan? Should we have done something different?"

Aslan examined them a moment longer, and let out a low growl. "No, son of Adam. It is not your fault. It is what Susan has chosen, and she will have to live with her own consequences." Everyone let out their breaths. "You recognize your failures now, but think of them no longer. You chose your own actions, some far worse than Susan's, but your faith has brought you to me. By my grace, and through your faith, you are saved. Let what is past be past."

"Please, Aslan," Lucy began, like she had so long before, "is there anything that can be done for Susan?"

"Dearest, as for your brother, all shall be done. I do not easily let my children go astray. There is hope yet for your sister. Believe me that each of you have paved the way, should she so choose it."

"She seemed to listen to us so little, Aslan," Digory said. "Sometimes I think we said little worth listening to."

"She has shut her eyes, but there is time for them to open. Think no more of your shortcomings - all fall short - and hear me when I say 'well done.' You have served me well."