February 23, 1941; Sunday
My mother was dead, I hadn’t heard from my father in months, and my brother had yet to call – these were the makings of a terrible seventy-third – sorry – thirteenth birthday. I wondered where Father was, and if someone had told him of Mother’s death and Eamon’s injury. Was he even alive? And what of Eamon? How was his recovery coming? I longed to go to London to visit him, but Miss Polly said it could be dangerous, especially at night.
Miss Plummer released me from my usual chores for the day to allow me to do whatever I wished. I decided to bundle up and go out for a ride, almost like I had fifty-two years ago when I learned of my Narnian father’s death, and my Narnian mother’s extensive injuries. Only I wasn’t going to gallop Fledge like I had Shema that dreary day. Today, I let Fledge walk across the pasture and into the woods. The trees here looked very different than the ones in Narnia, besides the ones that were homes to the Dryads, I mean. Of course, everything looked a bit different compared to its counterpart in Narnia.
I stuck near the edge of the forest so that I wouldn’t get lost, but it was pretty much Fledge leading the way. He showed me rabbit and gopher holes, bird nests, and a bee’s hive. And all the animals, except the bees, came out to greet us. It was almost like they knew who I was, or it was because they were curious as to who was at their “door.” Either way, it made me feel better.
It was probably only an hour or so since we set out, but I was getting cold and wanted to go inside. “Time to go home, Fledge,” I told the horse.
Huffing at my command, the Connemara turned about and headed for home. When we were clear of the woods, I encouraged Fledge into a trot, and he took it a couple steps further into a gallop. The wind whipped my face, and I felt my skirt paste itself to my legs. It filled me with such happiness that I laughed with joy. I slowed the horse down as we approached the barn. Inside, I took the tackle off, gave him a good rub down, his blanket, and some oats in his stall.
As I watched him eat, I began to wonder if Fledge had sensed that I was feeling down and decided to cheer me up. For a moment, I decided the thought was absurd, but then again, even the dumb beasts in Narnia could sense feelings of others and could understand different situations.
I leaned against the horse’s stall door. “Fledge,” I called in a singsong voice. He raised his head to me. “Did you know I was feeling bad?” I asked.
He ducked his head and brought it up; repeating the motion several times. I smiled widely and offered my gloved hand to the horse. Fledge reached out and nuzzled my hand with his snout.
“Thank you very much.”
The Connemara whinnied in reply as to say, “No trouble at all! Happy birthday!”
My grin widened, and I headed up to Polly’s house.
-x-x-x-x-x-
For dinner, Polly made me a perfectly roasted chicken, fried potatoes, and corn. It was all very delicious. Throughout the meal, I told my caretaker of birthdays past, including the story around my twenty-second. Even though Miss Polly tried her best to keep my mind off of Eamon, my thoughts could not help straying to him at various times during our talk.
Around nine o’clock at night, or twenty-one hundred hours, I wandered into the library and sat for a while in front of the ever-burning fire. I stared into the fire for quite a while, thinking about the fun Mum, Dad, and I had during my years as a youth. We used to go for rides in the spring and summer, we’d go for hunts in the fall, and we’d have fun in the snow during winter. And then there were the balls held in honour of the visiting royalty, and the young boys who would nervously come up to ask me to dance. There were also the trips across Narnia! Meeting the people from all over the country and learning how they lived. Oh how fun the trips were. I couldn’t help but smile at the memories.
My mind then switched trains and began to think about why I went to Narnia other than the mission Aslan clearly sent me on. At the moment, I was without a mother and my father was off at war with the possibility of dying before I ever saw him again. When I was in Narnia, I had a Mum and a Dad until I was an adult. It was as if Aslan gave me a chance to have parents because mine wouldn’t be around because of the war.
I didn’t get to think on it for long, for the phone rang. At first I jumped, thinking it might be Eamon, but then I remembered that Polly sometimes got later evening phone calls. But when Miss Polly called out “Aaaannabeeeeelle!” I was out of the library and at the phone that was hanging on the wall in the dining room before you could bat an eye.
Polly smiled as she handed me the receiver of the telephone. “It’s for you.”
I beamed as I took the receiver and turned to talk into the speaker on the wall. “Hello?” I said loudly, for it was a long distance call.
“Belle?” came Eamon’s voice.
Tears welled in my eyes. I had worried so much over my brother that it was a relief to hear him. “Eamon, it’s so good to hear from you!” I exclaimed, trying to hide the tears in my voice.
I heard my brother laugh softly on the other end of the line. “It’s good to hear from you too, Belle.”
“How’s your eye?” I asked quickly. “How badly was it damaged?
My questions seemed to catch my brother by surprise. It was an impulse that I hadn’t meant to act upon, but the healer in me needed to know how they had tended to him. “I got a lot of glass in it, sis. Unfortunately, the doctors weren’t able to save the eye after removing it all…”
I was practically fuming on my side of the phone. I had a similar case on my hands when I was thirty, after a Faun went through a window. It called for slow, careful extraction, and afterwards, a healing poultice was to be kept on the eyeball itself for a couple of weeks. The Faun never lost his sight, and in fact, he became one of the sharpest archers in my army.
“Do you know what happened during the procedure?” I asked, barely containing my anger.
“’Course not, sis, I was unconscious. That would be something you’d take up with the docs. Just calm down, I’m perfectly fine,” my brother said as he tried to reassure me.
I smirked. “You’re just not able to see out of an eye.”
“Hey, it gives me an honourable discharge, lil sis. I can come out to live with you and Miss Polly.”
My anger suddenly fled. “You heard about Mother, didn’t you?”
Eamon fell silent. “Yes, I did,” he said after a few moments. “How are you taking it?”
“When I found out… I took it hard. Now, I understand. How about you?”
“It’s just shocking really… I mean, I knew that Mother was always risking her life by staying home with the bombings, but I never expected the bombs to take her,” he said at length.
“I know, I felt similarly. I also know, though, that she’s in Heaven with As – Jesus,” I told him, trying to counsel him as I did my children after my husband was killed.
I heard a soft chuckle. “Have you been studying counseling, Belle? You almost sound like a professional.”
I laughed along with my brother. “Studying? No. Naturally practicing, yes.”
“‘Naturally practicing’? Now what does that mean?”
I bit my lip. How can I tell him about Narnia? That was stupid of me to even say that. “Well,” I said at length. “It deals with that adventure I mentioned in my last letter.”
“Oh yes, this vague, interesting adventure. When will you tell me about it?”
“When are you coming home?” I countered.
“Hmm, that’s a good question. According to the doctors, I’m recovering slowly-”
“What did they do to your eye?” I interrupted.
My brother paused. “What do you mean?”
“Did they sew the eyelids together, or did they just wrap a bandage around your head?” I asked, clarifying my question.
“Right now it’s only bandaged, but from what I’m told, I’m to have another operation soon to close the lids. Why d’you wanna know?”
I tried to hide my agitated sigh. “Because the doctors don’t know what they’re doing.”
“The doctors don’t know what they’re doing? Belle —”
“Can you give me their number please, Eamon?” I asked in the sweet voice that he could never resist.
A soft laugh reached my ears. “Sure. You can reach the doctors at London Hospital, Military Ward.”
“London Hospital, Military Ward,” I said to myself as I wrote it on a piece of paper. “Thank you, Eamon. I think I can get you out of there soon.”
“Well, thank you very much, lil sister. But we still have the problem of getting my discharge papers from headquarters.”
“That should be easy; getting you out of the hospital is going to be the hard part,” I commented in a carefree tone.
“You sure sound like you know what you’re doing,” Eamon retorted a bit sarcastically.
“Oh, but I do! Besides, you’d be getting your discharge papers after you get out of the hospital, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So what difference does it make? I’ll just tell General Stine that you’re getting out earlier than expected.”
“I’m shaking my head over here.”
I smiled. “I’m laughing at the headshake.”
“Well, little sis,” Eamon said with a yawn. “I think I should go to sleep.”
“Good idea. I will, too.”
“Good night, Annabelle.”
“Good night, Eamon.”
“And Belle?”
“Yes?”
“Happy birthday.”
I grinned. “Thank you.”
-x-x-x-x-x-
Next Day…
“Miss Polly, might I use the telephone after breakfast?”
My caretaker raised an eyebrow and gave me a studying stare. “This has to deal with your brother, doesn’t it?”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am. The doctors are not treating his eye injury correctly, and I want to get to him before he completely loses sight in it. Since you do not want me going to London to tend to him, I wish to bring him here, where he can get the proper attention he requires.” I fell into my formal speech – something I tended to do now, when I was explaining what I intended to do and not wanting any objections to my plans. It made me feel like myself again.
“I see.” Miss Plummer was silent for a minute, probably debating whether or not to unleash me on the unsuspecting doctors in London. “Yes, that’s fine. Just don’t make me regret it,” she answered teasingly, wagging her finger at me.
I laughed with Polly. “I won’t, promise.”
“Would you mind doing the dishes after you speak with them?”
“No, I’ll take care of them.”
“Splendid, I’ll go take Sam out to play in the snow, he just loves it.”
“Alright. Have fun!”
“I will. Just don’t kill the doctors,” Polly said on her way out with the excited border collie.
I put the dishes to soak in the sink so the food residue wouldn’t harden, and I picked up the telephone receiver. “Operator, I would like to place a call to London Hospital, Military Ward, please.”
“Yes, Ma’am. One moment please.”
I waited patiently as the operator placed my call and went over my arguments that I planned the prior night.
“London Hospital, Military Ward, Nurse Powell speaking.”
“Hello, Nurse Powell, my name is Annabelle Reeder. My brother, Pilot/Officer Eamon Reeder, has an eye wound, and I would like to talk to the doctor who is attending him,” I explained.
“It may take a few minutes, can you wait?” the nurse asked.
“Of course.”
The wait wasn’t long, and when the doctor answered, I think he expected a timid girl on the line, for he spoke in very gentle tones. “Hello Miss Reeder, my name is Dr. Morris. What would you like to talk about?”
I was slightly offended at his behaviour, but I let it roll off my back and continued as if I hadn’t heard it. “My brother’s wound, actually. I wish that you not perform any more surgery on it.”
I caught the doctor off guard. “W-what? What you’re suggesting is preposterous! We need to operate in order to protect the eye from further infection.”
Rolling my eyes, I asked, “Was Eamon’s eye terribly mutilated by the debris?”
“Not terribly, no,” Dr. Morris answered.
“Then, sir, my brother should be released into my care. I know of a procedure that can heal his eye and can potentially return full sight to it. From the sound of it, doctor, the surgery you plan to perform will not do that at all.”
“What you suggest is impossible,” said the doctor.
“No, it’s not. I have studied medicine for a long time, both modern and old. I came across a poultice that heals eye injuries, and I saw evidence that it worked. All I ask for is the opportunity to help Eamon.”
“Miss Reeder, what you’re asking is impossible.”
“You would rather let my brother lose his sight, even though there is a chance of saving it?” I asked. I knew this question would get him, for I had learned from the healers that when there is an option to give the patient better health, that route is most likely to be taken.
There was a long pause on the telephone line followed by a defeated sigh. “I will see what I can do to get him on the next train out of London.”
“Marvelous. I shall call General Stine and ask him to prepare my brother’s discharge papers immediately.”
“Discharge papers? But if you can get his sight back –”
“I am not sure to what extent Eamon will recover his sight. Depending on how long his eye went untreated, he could recover most of it, but not be of any use to the Queen’s Armed Forces,” I explained. “If he does recover all his sight, I am sure he will return to the RAF.”
“I see.”
“Thank you for your time, Dr. Morris. Good day,” I said, ending the conversation.
“Good day, Miss.”
I hung up the receiver and turned to wash the dishes. They had been waiting long enough and were just begging to be done. It took me only a few minutes to wash, dry, and put them away, and it was a nice switch up from talking on the telephone. As soon as the chore was finished, I went back to the phone and called General Stine about getting Eamon’s discharge papers in order.
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