to light and guard

chapter forty two

The next week, late Saturday night, Mary Eunice reclined in the floor, her nose buried in the final chapter of Lana's book, stapled at the top right corner. Pen pinched between her fingers, she used the tip of it to follow the line with her eyes, though she didn't mark on the white sheet. Lana lay curled up beside her on her stomach, sleepy eyes half-open. "D'ya like it?" Lana mumbled, gazing up at Mary Eunice with her narrow eyes. She had crust in the corners of her eyes, and as Mary Eunice glanced down at her from the manuscript, she licked her thumb to dab away the rheum. "Hm... Stop, stop—I got it—I asked did you like it." Lana pawed her hand away to wipe at her own eyes.

"Of course I like it." Mary Eunice combed a hand through her hair, grazing her short fingernails over Lana's scalp. The motion elicited a happy purr from Lana, who nuzzled deeper into the pillow, eyes falling closed. "You didn't sleep at all last night. You need to get some rest." She shifted lower into the pallet on the floor, which had grown more comfortable for them since the beginning of Lent. "And tomorrow morning, before church, we're taking a shower."

Lana's heavy eyes fluttered up at her, fighting to remain open. "Somebody's bossy," she mused under her breath.

Chuckling, Mary Eunice bent to kiss her forehead. "You haven't bathed in two days. Your hair is all oily. I want to wash it for you and give you a nice braid, to celebrate being finished—"

"D'ya like it?" Lana asked again, pressing more fervently.

"I just told you, I like it." Mary Eunice opened an arm, and Lana curled up into her embrace, resting her cheek in the junction where her arm met her shoulder. "I love you, Lana. So much." Lana gave a garbled reply, tongue dry and waggling in nonsensical syllables. She lifted her head just enough to plant a kiss on Mary Eunice's lips. "Let me finish reading. You go to sleep."

Lana gave a mumbled grunt in affirmation, but one of her cold hands fumbled with the thin fabric of Mary Eunice's nightgown, grappling for the hem. She slipped it beneath the skirt and placed her palm on the front of her abdomen. "So soft..." Lana nuzzled into the crook of her armpit. "Wanna feel you." Her rogue hand roamed higher, eliciting goosebumps all over Mary Eunice's body. She shivered in response to the cold hand. She hasn't slept in so long, she can't even regulate her own body temperature. Lana's hand slipped up over her ribcage and rested just beneath her right breast, the thumb and forefinger framing the place where the flesh rose from her pectoral muscles.

Trying her hardest to ignore Lana's musing, Mary Eunice propped up the manuscript with her right hand and flipped through the pages. Just five more. The story had wound down to its conclusion, the fictional death of the child she had not carried to term, the bitter justice of it. Lana was leaving the hospital. In the story, she was alone; she hadn't included anything about Mary Eunice, not even under a pseudonym. They had agreed any mention of another woman in her life would earn media scrutiny which would eventually bring a magnifying glass to Mary Eunice. Besides, Lana didn't want to change the focus of the story. She'll never be alone like that again. I'll be with her. Mary Eunice glanced sideways at Lana, whose breaths had leveled out into their unsteady rhythm of sleep, hand gradually warming beneath her breast. I'll be with her until the church takes me away. And then I'll find a way. I'll do something. I won't just leave her alone. Guilt probed inside of her at the thought. What if she had no other choice? The church could decide to cart her off as far as it liked—Brazil, like Mother Claudia, or even Rome if it saw fit. If they moved her so far, how could she hope to keep in contact with Lana? Long distance phone calls wouldn't go beyond the country boundaries. Letters would take months to travel across the ocean or down the continents. God, please, let me stay with her.

This selfish prayer twisted a knife inside of her. She regretted thinking it. But she prayed it, nonetheless. God, please, let me stay with Lana. I don't want to leave her. I have pledged my life to serve You, and I honor that vow with every breath in my body. But I cannot dream of a life without Lana now that I have known her compassion and her love. Now that she has let me know parts of myself I never would have considered before, I fear the world I knew before will never be the same. Mary Eunice stared with an empty gaze at the chapter of the story, unable to continue reading the version of Lana marching out of the hospital, alone and unloved. I believe Lana and I came together for a reason. I believe this is part of Your plan. And I don't believe You would plan anything to bring us harm. I know my own desires have no say in the matter, but I love Lana more than I ever dreamed I could love another person. Please, let us stay together. She doesn't deserve to lose someone else she loves. She should never walk alone again. Let her know love for the rest of her days, and I will do everything in my power to bring her the peace she deserves. She has walked through valleys where the shadow of death blots out the sun. She has earned her place among friendship and love. I only pray I can bring those things to her as long as it makes her happy. Mary Eunice puffed a long breath through her nose, eyes half-open as she placed the manuscript off to the side in the floor. In the precious name of Jesus, I pray. Amen.