to light and guard

chapter thirty one

The sounds of the house rumbling around Lana stirred her into wakefulness on the top bunk of the bed where they had crashed after six o'clock when Timothy had brought them back home. She rattled through another snore, dry eyes darting around the room, before she rubbed her eyes with her fists. Afternoon sun beamed through the window. The gray sky overlooked the line of bare, wintry trees, bark stripped silver by frost. It never snowed here—it was too far south, too warm—but the brown grass and coat of dew sent her reaching for a jacket from her suitcase. "Mary Eunice?" The lower bunk was made up, sheets and blankets tucked in, pillow fluffed. Of course she's already awake.

Shrieks of children reverberated through the halls. Oh, Christ almighty. Lana peeked in the mirror and combed her greasy hair. They finally got a bathtub. No more tin basin baths. I've gotta shower and wash my hair. Still, the night's sleep had done wonders for her appearance, circles faded from beneath her eyes, skin not as haggard, and the change of clothes banished the layers of dog hair and wrinkles which had dotted her for the days of travel. As she exited the bedroom, a baby wailed. The oldest girl and boy wrestled in the living room floor. The boy twin had wrapped up his fists in the girl twin's hair, and the middle girl fought to separate them. He didn't relinquish his grip. The girl with her tangled hair cried out in pain. The older one whipped around. "Stuart pulling Sue's hair!" she wailed. "Terry!"

Terry, the oldest, severed from her game with the boy and went to wrench Stuart away from her sister. The toddler unhooked his claws from Sue's hair, but just as fast, he sank his teeth into Terry's arm. Screeching in pain, she hurled him away. "He bit me!" He landed on his ass. For a moment, Lana expected him to throw back and start crying alongside Sue, but instead, he considered before he went to lunge at her again, intent on pulling her hair. Did they leave me alone here with the kids? Without telling me? Or waking me up?

With a gust of wind, Mary Eunice breezed out of the kitchen and pushed the baby at Lana. She caught him squirming under the arms. His fat, round head lolled back, surveying her with big brown eyes, and his hands reached for her. "Uh—what do I...?"

Mary Eunice paid her no attention. She scooped up Stuart under the arms effortlessly. "No biting. No hair-pulling." Her measured strides channeled her inner Sister Jude, expression stern. As she passed by, Lana scrambled to the left, keeping well out of her way. The toddler tossed his head back in a caterwaul of protest, but in spite of the proximity to her ear, Mary Eunice gave no indication she heard him. She planted him in the corner of the kitchen, nose right against the blank wall. "Time-out. Four minutes." She lifted her eyes to the clock mounted on the wall, one hand firm on the back of the child's neck. He fussed and whined and crossed his arms and stomped his feet, but she didn't relent.

"Gotta pee!" he whined. She ignored him.

Lana waited in the silence, holding the baby at arm's length, too astonished by the shift in roles of her beloved friend to make a sound. The baby's face turned in distress. Oh no. Lana couldn't remember the last time she had held a baby—probably when she was still in high school, when Wendy had to babysit her younger siblings. How do I do this? She scooped him into her arms in an awkward cradle, uncertain how to support all of him appropriately. He's so long. Were babies always this long? "What's this one's name?" Lana whispered, afraid of violating the silence Mary Eunice had established for the toddler's time-out.

"Rex."

"Right." I didn't remember that. He grabbed onto Lana's nose. Her face twisted as his other hand pawed at her eye, roaming her cheeks, the structure of her bones with some wonder written on his expression, some confusion. He found her hair, but instead of grabbing and tugging, he patted her, the way one would pat a friendly dog or horse on the shoulder. Bubbles formed on his small pursed lips. She peered at Mary Eunice out of the corner of her eye, pleading silently for some support, but Mary Eunice waited without hindrance, both eyes fixed upon the hands of the clock, ticking onward without any inhibition.