Finders Keepers

It was another cold, damp, uninviting day in Oxfordshire, but the young woman in the beige raincoat didn’t pay the slightest attention to the miserable weather. She refused to call it “toffee-colored” despite what the label said; beige was beige! The coat was a shade or two lighter than her long light-brown hair, which whipped about in the wind as she knelt, her hands raking through the dirt until they found what they sought.

Jane Barnaby picked up the small, smooth stone and examined it critically. It would do nicely, she decided. Now, she was ready. She stood up and made her way down to Addison’s Walk, just as she’d done every day since she arrived at Oxford back in August. The gray sky didn’t bother her at all; by now, Jane was used to not seeing the sun for days at a time. Honestly, this December morning wasn’t noticeably different than her first morning here four months ago. Maybe it was a few degrees colder, but no more than that.

The Walk was still beautiful; it made no difference whether it was sunny or cloudy or pouring rain. In her right hand, Jane carried the small round stone that she’d just picked up from the ground outside Holywell House. This, too, she’d done every day since she arrived.

As she walked, Jane didn’t feel the wind, cutting through her London Fog coat. She hadn’t had the heart to tell her father that the raincoat he’d bought for her as a going-away gift wasn’t a British product at all. And that wasn’t the only thing she hadn’t had the heart to tell him – three months here, two letters home a week, and she still hadn’t mentioned her daily ritual.

But as she walked, that slipped from her mind, as did nearly everything else. She wasn’t thinking about the meeting she was headed for, or what it might portend. The only thing on her mind now was, as always when she trod this path, her mother. Jane carried on a conversation with her, telling her about everything and nothing.

Her mother had guided her here, not just to Oxford, but specifically to Magdalen College. Jane was certain of that. She knew it that very first day, when she’d been given a brief tour and history lesson by Olivia, one of the two Social Secretaries of the College. Olivia had led Jane along the beautiful Walk, explaining that it had been one of C.S. Lewis’ favorite places when he’d been a Fellow here. The moment Jane heard that she knew. It hadn’t been a random chance that landed her in this particular College, but her mother’s hand.

“The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” was the very first “real” book Jane’s mother had ever read to her and her brother. Closing her eyes, her feet moving unerringly along the Walk, Jane was transported back to her childhood bedroom. She saw herself taking the book from her mother’s hands, and then slowly, haltingly, reading it back, her voice growing stronger and more confident with each word. Jane remembered the pride shining from her mother’s eyes as she and then her brother in turn finished the last chapter and demanded that they start on “Prince Caspian” immediately.