Ruth's Magpie

Chapter 3: Family Pictures and Friendly Peter

I was nearly done mending my trousers when the other children arrived. When I heard the front door open and close loudly, I jumped and stabbed my finger.

"And this is why you wear a thimble," I mumbled to myself as I sucked my bleeding finger. I walked over and stood at the top of the stairs and glanced down at the new arrivals. The first thing I saw was windblown golden hair. The blue-eyed boy to whom the hair belonged was holding the hand of a little girl. She glanced about with wide brown eyes, her auburn hair swishing as she turned her head side to side. Her sister stood next to her, dark brown hair curled perfectly and her dress free of any wrinkles. On the side, distanced from the others, stood another brother. Although the other three didn't look very similar, this boy was the most unique. His raven black hair and dark eyes were a sharp contrast to his pale skin.

Mrs. Macready gave them the same instructions I received. Once she left, the dark-haired boy absently fingered the carving of a pedestal.

"Edmund," the older sister said sternly, nudging him. He immediately withdrew his hand, but glared at her. His gaze travelled, finally resting on me.

"Who are you?" he called loudly, startling everyone else. I flushed a bright red as every set of eyes turned to me.

"My name is Ruth Byrne," I replied, descending the stairs. "I only arrived a few hours before you. If you don't mind, who are you?" I flashed a smile.

"We're the Pevensies," the older boy said, returning my smile. I realized just how blue his eyes were; they were beautiful. "I'm Peter, this is Lucy, that is Susan, and our, ah, observant little brother is Edmund."

"Nice to meet you all!" I said. "I believe Mrs. Macready disappeared to make us tea. Did she tell you where your rooms are? It's quite easy to get lost."

"Does that mean we can explore?" Lucy asked excitedly.

"Of course!" Peter exclaimed, dropping to one knee and grabbing her hands. "Look at the size of this house! We could explore for days and still not see everything."

She giggled, eyes shining.

"I've already been exploring," I said with a wink. "This house is fascinating!"

Peter shot me a grateful look. Mrs. Macready came bustling back into the room.

"Tea is ready whenever, but I shall show you your rooms first. Actually, girls, you are in the room across the hallway from Ruth. She can show you. Boys, follow me."

Lucy slid her small hand into Susan's, and I led the girls to their room. They began to unpack their belongings, so I excused myself and finished mending the leg of my trousers. I folded them and tucked them away, and put my sewing kit away as well, in one of the desk drawers. My eyes wandered to the photos, and I gently picked up my favorite one. It was from my seventh birthday, before the war started. My hair was braided down both sides of my head, and I was smiling from ear to ear as my face glowed in the light of the candles on top of the cake.

I remembered that moment vividly. Abigail and Mary were under the table, playing with dolls I had outgrown because I felt seven was much too old for silly dolls. Michael was reaching out for the cake with pudgy fingers, but Father gently swatted his hand away so Mom could take the picture. Everyone sang "Happy Birthday" to me, and I blew out my candles. I remembered how young and carefree I was. That was before Mother had gotten a job and left me in charge of the younger children. Before my father had enlisted in the military. Before we had even needed a military.

I wonder where Father is right now, I wondered, before I heard a knock on the door. Startled, I dropped the picture and faced the open doorway. Peter Pevensie stood in the doorway, his knuckles resting lightly on the door.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said softly, "But we were going down to have tea now, and were wondering if you'd like to join us."

I blushed. "Oh, of course. Thanks for asking." I quickly slipped the picture beneath another one, and collected them into a pile. Glancing up at his adorably patient face, I smiled and walked out the door.

"Did you like your room?" I asked.

"Certainly! It has a great view of the yard. Ed and I will probably spend more time in the girls' room though, so all four of us can spend more time together."

"That's sweet," I said with a smile. "When we would visit my grandmother's house in the summer, my siblings and I shared a room. The first time we stayed there without my parents, we were there for a week. I think I was ten years old at the time. On the very first night, there was a huge thunderstorm. One by one, my siblings came in to my room and crawled into my bed, and slept there all night."

Peter smiled. "Something similar has happened to me. So I take it you're the oldest?"

"Yes, oldest of four, like you. Michael was eleven, and Abigail and Mary were twins. They were eight."

"Ah, I see. I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's alright," I said automatically. I avoided his gaze, staring at the ground as we walked slowly, but something about his body language told me that he knew that it wasn't alright. "How old are your siblings?"

He cleared his throat. ​​​"Lucy is eight, Edmund is ten, and Susan is twelve, try as she might to seem fourteen like me, or even older," he added with a laugh.

"She does seem to try," I laughed. "I'm fourteen too. When's your birthday?"

"November 23," he said matter-of-factly. "And you?"

I began to giggle. "Mine is November 24."

"What? Really?"

"Yes, really."

"How great!" he chuckled. By this time, we had reached the kitchen door and walked in, still laughing.

"What's so funny, you two?" Lucy asked.

"We have almost the same birthday!" we exclaimed in unison, causing us to laugh all over again. Lucy began to giggle as well, but Susan and Edmund just exchanged a humored glance. I concluded that they thought we were crazy.

Susan cleared her throat. "The tea is over there," she said, pointing to the counter. Peter got there first and poured two cups, handing the one with emerald green vines crisscrossing the off-white background to me. "The vines are similar to the color of your eyes," he commented. I smiled when I saw the cup he dwarfed in his own hands.

"And the blue flowers are similar to yours," I replied.

Lucy examined her own cup. "Something tells me that my eyes aren't yellow like the daffodils."

I smiled widely to camoflage my laughter. "No, yours are brown, Lucy. Like coffee."

"Ugh, I don't like coffee!" Edmund exclaimed in disgust.

"Ed," Peter snapped.

"I didn't mean it like that!" he fired back. "I was just saying I dislike the drink."

"Tea is more likable where taste is concerned," I agreed, trying to alleviate the tension, "But Lucy's eyes are beautiful like the color of coffee."

Peter shot me another grateful look, but I ignored it. "We all have different eyes. Look. Edmund has black eyes, like the color of a raven's feather. Susan's are grey, Lucy's are brown, mine are green, and Peter's are blue. Isn't that neat?"

"I never thought of it that way," Edmund remarked, his anger simmering as he glanced curiously at everyone's eyes. "That is neat."

I sipped my tea, the beverage warming me inside and out. I found myself wondering if the poor Narnians affected by the winter had any tea to keep them warm. As I wondered, I felt a feeling stir deep within me. I was going back to Narnia... tonight.