Disclaimer: Susan Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. I believe Dickens' A Christmas Carol is public domain now, but if not, that's not mine either. I'm just stealing freely from it. Any really strange punctuation you notice is likely copied from the original.

STAVE FIVE: THE END OF IT

Yes! and the bedpost was her own. The bed was her own, the room was her own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before her was her own, to make amends in!

"I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!" Susan repeated as she scrambled out of bed. "The Spirits of Lucy, Peter and Edmund, all three! shall strive within me! Oh, dear Professor! I will not forget Narnia and Aslan and that we were and are Kings and Queens. I will not forget to be His Queen no matter how grown up I am. Heaven and the Great Lion be praised for this!"

She went to her mirror and looked into it. She had been sobbing violently in her conflict with the Spirit, and her face was wet with tears.

"It is not stiff and strange." She put one trembling hand to her cheek and then to her soft, pink lips. "It is not painted and frightening. It is my face– my own face!– the shadows of the things that would have been may be dispelled. They will be. I know they will!"

She stripped off the fur coat she had been huddling in, stripped off the fashionable gown, the French undergarments, the silk stockings, and stood for a good long while under a hot shower, soaking off every bit of makeup and hair spray and perfume. Then she dressed herself again, and her eager hands did not know what to make of the familiar, simple garments now: turning them inside out, putting them on upside down, tearing them, mislaying them, making them parties to every kind of extravagance.

"I don't know what to do!" cried Susan, laughing and crying in the same breath. "I'm as light as a Nymph! I'm as happy as a Mermaid, I'm as merry as a Faun, I'm as giddy as a drunken Dwarf. A merry Christmas to everybody! A happy New Year to all the world!"

She had just managed to sort everything out when the church round the corner rang out the lustiest peals she had ever heard. Clash, clash, hammer; ding, dong, bell! Bell, dong, ding; hammer, clang, clash! Oh, glorious, glorious!

Running to the window– the window Lucy had come through!– she opened it and put out her head. No fog, no mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring cold; cold, piping for the blood to dance to; golden sunlight; heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious! Glorious!

"What's to-day?" cried Susan, calling downward to a boy in Sunday clothes.

"To-day!" replied the boy. "Why, Christmas Day."

"It's Christmas Day," said Susan to herself. "I haven't missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course they can." She cleared her throat. "Hello, young man!"

"Hallo!" returned the boy.

"Do you know the jeweler's in the next street but one, at the corner?" Susan enquired.

"I should hope I did," replied the lad. "My father's the jeweler."

"Has he already gone to the church?"

The boy looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Not yet. He and my mum are just coming now."

Susan beamed at him. "Excellent. I'll be right down. Ask him to please stop just where you are now, and I'll give you a pound."

She scurried down into the street, and as she expected, she found the man and his disgruntled looking wife waiting for her.

"Miss Pevensie." The jeweler bowed respectfully. "Merry Christmas."

Before and during her marriage and in her widowhood and after, she had frequented the man's shop and he had made a tidy profit from those trying to win her favor. He looked faintly startled to see the warmth of her smile.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Eldridge. I know you and your family are on your way to church, and I'm going that way myself, but I was wondering if I might ask a favor of you. I saw the prettiest ruby necklace in your shop, with the earrings and bracelet to match. You know the one. The very sweet one that wouldn't overpower a lady."

"I do indeed, ma'am. Might I bring it over for you?"

"Do you still have that watch?" Susan asked. "The lovely, sleek gold one in your front window."

The jeweler frowned contemplatively. "Yes, I do. Certainly. But that's a man's watch."

"Exactly."

And there was such joy in Susan's laugh that the jeweler couldn't help join in, though he didn't really know why she laughed, and even his disgruntled wife smiled enough to bring a dimple to her cheek.

"Now, if you would," Susan continued, laying a soft hand on his arm. "I should very much like, once the service is done and you've taken a good long time to enjoy your family and your Christmas dinner, for you to send that watch and the necklace and all the rest to this address."

She told him the address of the humble little house where Brett and his wife and baby lived, and he took it down in a little notebook.

"And what shall the card read, ma'am? 'A Merry Christmas from Susan Pevensie'?"

"No, no, no!" she cried, still laughing. "I want it to say exactly this: 'A merry Christmas to you both from one you have shown a glimpse of true love.' And I shall be very cross with you, Mr. Eldridge, if you even hint at who sent it."

The jeweler grinned. "Mum's the word, Miss Pevensie. You have my oath on it."

Again she beamed at him. "Now, if you and your wife don't mind, may I walk along with you to church?"

He made a slight bow. "We'd be pleased, ma'am, but your coat–"

"Oh, no. No, no, no. I don't want it. At least not for a bit. This isn't the dull, dreary sort of cold, you know. This is the kind of Christmas cold that makes you dance when you walk."

And that was what she did. She more frolicked with the jeweler's young son than walked with the more sedate couple the short way to the church. And when she got there, she could not stop looking at the stained glass above the altar, the great window Peter had shown her. Lion of Judah. Lamb of God. One in the same. The Great Lion who died for Edmund– and for her and for all the traitors that ever were. The One who loved her and longed for her return.

And she did return. Not that year and not for many years after. For she was grown up now and meant to use those gifts He had given her here in this world. But she knew at last what it meant to be His Queen and his child. She knew the truth and knew what was fleeting and what truly was important.

And it was always said of her that she knew how to keep Christmas well, not only in the Season but all the year round, remembering Lucy's joy and Peter's kindness and Edmund's redemption, and most of all the Lion's love. May that be truly said of us, and all of us!

And so, on this Christmas Day and always, God bless Us, Every One!

Coming up: More of "Refined by Fire."