to light and guard

chapter forty three

Several days later, Lana stewed at the kitchen table over the newspaper. "I still can't believe he put us on the front page," she fumed. She curled her toes into the carpet, glaring down at the headline Walter had published right beneath the title, The Boston Globe. It read, "Intruder Alert: Community Hero's House Violated by Local Nazi!" She wanted to spit on Dr. Arden's image, lip drawn back into a snarl at the sight of his mugshot, which was featured under the headline. At least it wasn't one of us shown there. She gripped the table with white-knuckled hands. "The front page! After I told him to stop publishing about me! He has no respect! He has no respect for me!"

Mary Eunice left the kitchen, apron tied around her middle, a wet washcloth in her hand. She eased into the seat across from Lana. "It's Thursday," she said, voice hushed, eyes earnest. "That paper was published on Sunday. You're tormenting yourself." She reached to take one of Lana's hands, the ink-stained fingertips brushing clean skin, but Lana shook her head, propping her head up in her hands as she glared down at the printed paper. "I thought you said yourself that Walter wasn't very respectful."

I did. Lana glowered down at the paper, like she could channel all of the rage burning inside of her at him if she made a nasty enough face. She shook her head, raking a hand through her hair before placing them both back on the kitchen table's surface. "He's not. He never has been. I'm just—" Her hands balled up into fists. I don't feel safe here anymore. I never did, really, but it's worse, now. "I'm angry. At myself, and at Walter, and at everyone." Mary Eunice stroked the back of her hand again. It unfolded at her prompting and rolled over, ink bleeding from one skin to another. "But he shouldn't have written about me when I asked him not to!"

"You're right. He shouldn't have." Mary Eunice lifted her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Maybe you shouldn't write for him anymore. If he's not going to treat you well—there isn't a reason for you to keep writing for him, right?" Lana glanced up at Mary Eunice, meeting her eyes. She wore a small smile. She still has that shadow. That empty place in her soul. Her hand relaxed in her gentle grasp. She had carried that darkness in her eyes since they returned from Briarcliff, and she only saw it disappear when they lay naked together or kissed hard enough for a fire to ignite between them and banish it. Only in their most intimate moments did Mary Eunice become whole again. I wish I could give it to her all the time. "You need to do what makes you happy. That's all I want."

Casting a long gaze at the newspaper, Lana stared at the elegant script at the top. "I told him that's what I would do. I ought to keep my promise." Mary Eunice kissed the back of her hand. "But." She stopped in the middle of her gentle motion, eyes widening. "It's not that easy. The Globe has been my dream ever since I came here. I got my first internship there. It's hard to walk away from something you've wanted to do all your life." With her other forefinger, she traced the underside of the title of the newspaper title, watching as the black ink marked on her fingertip. "No one there wants me around anymore. I've known that for awhile, I guess." Since October. Since Mary Eunice saved me from their cruel words. Lana's eyes darted back up to Mary Eunice. So much had changed from October to March. She leaned over and received a warm, dry kiss upon her lips just to ground her in the moment, bring it to reality. If she felt Mary Eunice, leaving more of her old life would not hurt so much. "But that was my life. The dumb cooking column..."

"See, you won't have to do that anymore!"

"Oh, please, I enjoy it—just would prefer if it didn't come with a fire hazard for all of us." Lana took her hand away from Mary Eunice and folded up the newspaper neatly, puffing a sigh out her nose. She left it there. The other newspapers published since Friday had begun to form a stack on one of the unused kitchen chairs; she hadn't touched them since they arrived. Usually I read the newspaper religiously. "But you're right. I don't need to work for him anymore. I'm meeting with my publisher on Saturday, and I'm not going to need his work anymore. The publisher has already been promoting it, and it's going to make us very wealthy, and it's going to open avenues for me far beyond newspaper journalism." Newspaper journalism is so comforting. Lana shoved away the tempting thought which wanted to restrict her from rising from her place and reaching for another.