~ by Keturah Lamb
It had been many years since Miss Polly Plummer was a young child. Many years ago.
Life wouldn’t be giving her too many more years. Polly raised her wrinkled hands before her smiling eyes. Her hands trembled with excitement. When was the last time she felt this giddy? Full of child-like enthusiasm?
A long time ago, that was certain.
Polly sat inside her warm parlor, near the fire, a thick fur over her knees. Still she was cold. And nervous. Her house was large, situated far out in the country. It was beautiful, but not many people came to see her anymore.
Her old friend Digory was coming to visit. It had been years since they last saw each other and had a proper visit. But that time had never diminished how highly she thought of him. One time she had thought they might—ah, never mind what she had thought. Digory had always been a strange boy—man. She should never have got her hopes wrapped around him.
He was never the type to marry, his head too stuck in the clouds.
She was.
Yet they had got on so well in Narnia. Surely that would have been proof that they could have done the same in England.
Polly pressed her lips together, as if chiding herself. Inwardly she did. “Digory, my that man. If it hadn’t been for him I would have married. Five times I could have married. But how could I when I knew him?”
No, she’d made her choices, even as he had. Besides, she was too old for regrets now.
The maid came in interrupting her thoughts. “Professor Kirke is here, ma’am.”
“Show him in, Jane. Thank you,” Polly sent the young woman a smile.
Once the maid exited the parlor Polly’s smile fell. She raised a hand to her chest. Oh, it had been so long, but still her heart beat like a school-girl’s. Silly Polly, she thought, You are an old woman. Take a hold of yourself.
Digory rushed into her room, excitement etched over all his features. It was as if he were young again. Or had he ever grown old? Professor Kirke would always remain the same in Polly’s mind: a young boy crying in a fenced garden, because God had given him a heart full of love for his mother.
Polly rose up forgetting her shaking, wrinkled hands. The fur slipped from her lap, gently falling to the floor. “Digory!”
“Polly! Haven’t I got the best news!” He grasped Polly’s frail shoulders and lightly kissed her cheeks.
She blushed, but Digory didn’t seem to notice.
He threw off his coat, making himself comfortable and sat in the chair adjacent to her own.
“What brings you here, Digory?” Polly took her own seat, readjusting the fur about her knees. Even as she did the maid rushed into the room.
The maid spoke through strained breaths, “Ma’am, I’m sorry. But the professor didn’t wait for me to take his coat.”
Polly and Digory laughed together. Oh, how good it felt to laugh with an old friend!
“I like to keep my coat near, in readiness for any north wind that may try to capture me away.”
The maid curtsied, stammering.
“Bring us tea, would you?” Polly asked.
The maid sighed, relief written on her face as she left the room.
“Is that the same lass you had when I was here last?” Digory asked.
“I’m afraid not. That maid married and left me.”
“Servants tend to do that a lot,” Digory sighed. “I fear they can’t stand us old people, so they leave us for another slavery. Except Mrs. Macready. I suppose widows are the ones to hire.”
Is that how he looked at marriage? “Old? Digory? I don’t think we have ever grown old.”
Digory’s eyes twinkled. “You certainly haven’t, Miss Plummer. You still have spunk to last you many years yet, I can see.”
Again Polly blushed. She quickly asked, “Do tell what brings you here?”
The twinkle sharpened in Digory’s eyes. “Narnia! Polly, it still lives!”
Polly gasped. “Truly? Did you go back?” she whispered gently.
Digory shook his head, his eyes looking down sadly. “I’ve tried to my whole life, as you very well know. But no. Those children that came to stay with me… they played inside my wardrobe. Remember the wardrobe from Mother’s apple?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Narnia pulled all four of them in, and they became kings and queens!”
Polly laughed. “I shouldn’t be surprised. After all we are a Lord and Lady, are we not?”
Digory returned the laugh. “Ah, but how I’ve wished to go. I’ve even tried going into the wardrobe as they did. But to no avail. I am afraid it’s taken me all these years to finally accept that Aslan is the one that truly brings one to Narnia. The way is merely his tool. Except the rings, of course.”
Rings. How Polly remembered those pretty things. Though after Narnia there was only one ring she wanted. One ring, but she didn’t care what it looked like as long as it was from Digory.
But now she realized something.
Just as Digory now realized why he hadn’t been able to find Narnia again, she knew why he had never asked her to be his bride.
His love had been solely focused on Narnia.
If only she had realized sooner… maybe… But no. She was too old to regret.
“That is amazing, Digory. I want to hear all about these children’s adventure. Every word.”
“Yes, well there should be plenty of time for that, my dear Polly. I have actually come for another reason.”
“Yes?”
The maid chose that moment to bring the tea into the room. Polly accepted a cup. Maybe something warm inside would help the cold leave.
Digory declined.
The maid left.
“I feel Aslan is not done with us, yet, Polly. And I want you there close by for when He calls us back.”
Polly held the cup close to her lips, taking a small sip. Yes, hot. But her insides were just barely warmed. She lowered the cup, “Whatever do you mean? Now?”
“I mean that I’ve been blind far too long. When the children left I knew I couldn’t bear to live without Narnia. Not alone at least.”
Polly’s fingers trembled, some of the tea spilled onto her fingers. She did not feel it.
“Mr. Kirke?” she asked.
“Please, Polly, come live with me? We were always meant to marry.”
“Digory…” Polly thought she’d drop her tea, but thoughtful Digory saved the cup from her fingers. His own hands wrapped around her cold fingers. Except now they were warm. Perfectly warm. “Digory, we are too old to marry.”
“Too old? Rubbish! You and I shall never be old. What do you say, old friend? Shall we do this last adventure?”
Polly smiled, a small tear working its way through her wrinkles. “You silly boy. I’ve been waiting for you to ask me for so long. But why couldn’t you have asked when my skin was smooth?”
Digory smirked, “Your skin looks smooth to me. But then I’m not wearing my glasses.”
Polly laughed, Digory holding her hands tight.