to light and guard

chapter thirty seven

The road in front of Lana's house had never looked so inviting as when Mary Eunice turned off of the intersection and headed down the street toward the building she now knew as home. The icy streets skidded underfoot, and snow kept drifting down from the sky, muting any footprints left behind; the further north they drove, the more the weather worsened, and they'd donned more layers each day as they traveled, until now, when she finally pulled up in the driveway once again. Shifting the car into park, Mary Eunice placed her hand on her girlfriend's shoulder and nudged her. "Lana?" she greeted in a low, soft voice. "Lana, we're home." They had traded positions behind the wheel at some point after Lana drove through DC (Mary Eunice had sworn off of going through the nation's capital a second time, and this time, in the light of day, she got to admire the sights and the ethereal sensation of the center of the country), and Lana had fallen asleep with her head in Mary Eunice's lap, snoring in a solemn peace in spite of the thickening clouds spraying snow at them.

Mary Eunice would admit, she had prayed her way most of the way here, and part of her feared the driveway and sidewalk would prove treacherous for making their way back into the house. "C'mon, wake up." She stroked Lana's hair, combing it back out of her peaceful face, until her eyebrows and eyelashes twitched in response. One brown eye peeked up at her, a bit reproachful at the disturbance, which made Mary Eunice's tender grin widen. "We're home." She tugged the blanket from around Lana and folded it up. In the backseat, Gus whined, placing his head on the back of the seats to spy on them. "Wake up," Mary Eunice said again. "It's time to go inside." Groaning, Lana sat up, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. "You can go on inside, if you want. I can get the bags."

Through narrow eyes, Lana blinked at her, before she slowly shook her head, the words settling upon her like the snowflakes upon the ground as her brain worked to awaken from its slumber. "No. I'll help." She stretched, long and languid, and found her coat in the floor of the car. "Ugh. I forgot about the snow."

"Poor, miserable southerner," Mary Eunice teased, and Lana swatted her on the wrist, both of them exchanging a smirk and a look softer than the inside of a Milky Way. "I'll get Gus. I'm sure he has to potty." Lana opened the door to her right and swung her legs out of the car. "Be careful! It's icy."

"I can see--" Lana's feet scooped out from under her, and she wrapped herself around the door with a yelp of surprise, trying to support herself. "God, I miss the Georgia weather!" Her feet scrabbled on the ice, unable to get a grip, while she righted herself and sought traction. Mary Eunice covered her mouth with her hand, stepping out of the car, Gus scrambling after her. On the balls of her feet, Mary Eunice crept over the icy ground and into the grass, led by Gus, who pulled her toward his favorite bush. "How are you so good at this?"

"You have to walk like a penguin! Feet flat!" At her encouragement, Lana pushed herself up. She waddled around the car, one hand braced on it all the way around. "Here." Mary Eunice tugged Gus off of his bush, where he had already lifted his leg and was deciding if he wanted to continue marking his land or head inside to the warmth. He whined at her insistence, but he followed along, limping through the cold snow. "You take Gus. Let me get the bags. You're going to hurt yourself." Lana slipped toward her, crossing the treacherous terrain with tiny, flat steps, until she reached the threshold where the slick concrete met the grass and took an overconfident step forward. She pitched right at her girlfriend. Mary Eunice caught her with outstretched arms, both of Lana's hands landing on her shoulders. "I've got you!" Harried brown eyes met hers. Feet still sliding backward, Lana's stature shrank; she became horizontal. Mary Eunice tugged her forward, onto the grass, giggling in spite of herself. She's so adorable.

The fat snowflakes landed in their hair and arranged a crown of melting ice for them. Even as her feet met solid ground, Lana held fast to Mary Eunice, but the panic ebbed from her eyes, replaced with affection. "You've got me?" Lana asked. Yes, of course. Forever. Mary Eunice hummed and nodded. Gus pulled on his leash at her wrist, but she ignored him. "Good. Don't ever let go." I won't. She squeezed Lana's waist tighter where her hands had caught her, an agreement to those terms.