Sunshine or Shadows

Chapter 12. All I Want for Christmas

Ginny lowered her wand and braced for the thump as her Hogwarts trunk dropped onto the hardwood floor of her childhood bedroom. A fair amount of dust flew into the air when it hit, and it made Ginny cough vigorously. "Well," she thought, "at least I know Mum hasn't been snooping around in here while I was away." She turned in a circle and studied her old room, confirming her suspicions. Clearly, no one had come in ages to tidy up or even, by the looks of her dresser, to organize the little pile of post that had been delivered.

She flicked her wand at the dresser and watched the scrolls sort themselves into a neat mound and then turned her attentions to the dusty floors and dirty windows: listening, while she cleaned, for the familiar sounds of the Burrow. Ginny had always felt more at home in her little bedroom in the Burrow than anywhere else on Earth: more like a piece of the family puzzle; and she waited for the noisy, hectic, loving, Weasley atmosphere to swallow her up again and let her know that she was still a part of it.

"Ginny?"

Her mum's voice reverberated through the downstairs rooms and Ginny heard more people shuffling through the front door before it closed.

"Oh, Ginny must be home," her mum chimed, animatedly. "There's a ministry car in the side yard, over there."

"Yes, yes, dear. She's upstairs unpacking, I'm sure she'll be along in a minute," Mr. Weasley answered back in the low, genial tones that Ginny had come to think any good father should have. "Hello Molly. Hello Andromeda. And wook, who have we here?"

Ginny smiled while she listened to her dad address little Teddy in his "baby voice". If anyone at the Ministry could hear how Arthur Weasley conducted himself around babies and toddlers, she mused, they might think twice before asking his opinion on anything important. Her mum had always said that a little part of him had never really grown up, and that part came shining through when he was around little kids like he'd just swallowed the North Star.

"Come on, Andromeda," he said, "give him over. I haven't seen this little man in a month, have I? And you're not so little anymore are you Teddy Weddy? No...you're a big wizard now. Just wook at you."

The saccharin-sweet, one-sided conversation downstairs became muffled as the group moved into another room - the kitchen, Ginny supposed - and she listened to distant echoes that had arisen in her mind. "Ginny Winny...Ronny Wonny..." Even as a tiny little girl, Ginny could remember cringing when her dad inadvertently resorted to calling them by their baby nicknames. It would usually happen at Christmastime, when he got all caught up in the spirit of things, but to Ginny and her brothers, their dad's regression had always been a bit of an embarrassing thing to witness. Grown men just weren't supposed to speak that way.

"Awe, wittew Ginny," he would say, "wook here...I found the very first ornament you ever made." At six or seven, Ginny remembered sneering at a pile of choo choo wheel noodles that she'd glued into a shape roughly resembling a princess carriage and had sprinkled with pink glitter when she was two, while her brothers snickered and pursed their lips, repeating "wittew Ginny" until she finally picked up a fight with one or another of them. "Freddy Weddy" was usually the one to keep it up the longest, of course. What she wouldn't give, she reflected, to hear him tease her again.

With a heart full of melancholy, Ginny tromped down the stairs to greet her parents and to say hello to Mrs. Tonks and little Teddy. It seemed like she had been gone for much longer than three and a half months and she'd missed everyone terribly, even as she carried around a certain amount of guilt associated with them; at school, there had been more than enough work to keep her occupied and in the midst of it all she'd barely managed to send home four letters to her mum. She had been keeping a strict study regiment that she and Natalie had come up with - one that Ginny was sure would make Hermione proud and her brothers deeply ashamed - and Quidditch was now in full swing with two wins already awarded to Gryffindor's team: both games having been decided by a not-so-insignificant margin at that.

It wasn't as if her mum, especially, wasn't often on her mind, but whenever Ginny sat down to write, she had a hard time coming up with anything interesting to say. Mostly, she thought, she wanted to know how things were at the Burrow, and with George. She wanted to be reassured that they were okay and for some reason had never been able to completely divorce herself from the notion that people just couldn't be okay without her there to help it along.

Natalie called it "guilt by disassociation": Ginny's strong feelings of responsibility and ownership regarding her parents' welfare and the corresponding writer's block that they caused. "Guilt by being guilty," Ginny thought as she approached the kitchen full of guests and relatives, "is more like it."

"Oh, hello Ginny," Mrs. Tonks sang from the scullery in the back. She and Ginny's mum had both squeezed into the small room and were delighting over the modifications Mr. Weasley had put in. Ginny waved to her dad, who was on the floor trying to tease Teddy with a squeeze toy. The boy's head bobbed and weaved while his hands flailed about, threatening to topple him over from his unsteady sitting position. She laughed at the pair as she passed them and joined her mum in admiring the new shelves and turnstiles that had been installed in the scullery.

"It's wonderful, Molly," Andromeda said, giving Ginny a friendly wink. "You are so lucky to have a handy husband around."

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley said quietly, catching Ginny's eye as she fumbled around for a proper response. "Yes, I am truly lucky." She took Andromeda's hand and squeezed lightly and quickly: a brief acknowledgement of the woman's slip of the tongue, and a gesture of support.

"Well," Ginny said, "I have to say that I'm impressed." She ran a hand along the old, wood-lined doorway to the room: it still had tick marks in it from each of the Weasley children's birthdays, marking their height on those days with tiny etched initials. It looked out of place in the super-organized, clean and freshly stained scullery - a gateway, of sorts, between the old and the new, she mused.

"I couldn't bear to replace it."

Ginny turned around and smiled at her dad. He was still sitting on the floor in an awkward attempt at a cross-legged position, but looking up at her with shiny eyes. "I'm glad," she returned. The holidays were still having their affect on her dad, she realized. He was in one of his reflective but playful moods, which she hadn't thought would be possible this year. Indeed, it had been quite a long while since she'd seen him like this.

"Oh, Ginny, I'm so glad you're home," Mrs. Weasley said. She threw her arms up and Ginny walked into them, accepting a hug from her mum and laughing.

"Hello, Mum," she said. "I've missed you guys."

"You seem a bit thin, dear," her mum said. "Haven't you been eating properly?"

"Yes, Mum, of course I've been eating - you know Hogwarts," Ginny replied. "Honestly, I get the feeling you'll never be happy unless I come back as plump as a Christmas goose with bits and pieces of dried food stuck all over my third chin."

"Well, you could certainly do with a good meal or two," her mum said, releasing Ginny and walking over to the fire, where the large copper pot sat on an iron stand. "I've invited Ron and Harry over, of course, and Hermione, so we'll have a full house once again. I think a nice stew would be good for a cold day like today, don't you?"

Ginny smiled without knowing she was doing it. Harry. "That sounds wonderful," she spurted. "Really, really good. Yeah." An uncomfortable chuckle made her cringe and she busied herself with grabbing the kettle to fill it with water, muttering, "Um...I'll just get us some tea and then go start on the bread."

Ginny and the two ladies made quick work of preparing a meal big enough for the large group and Ginny put the final touches on setting the table, lighting a cluster of candles with her wand. The table took on an umber glow and Ginny idly stared at the affect. She was beginning to slip back into her melancholy state, which took her slightly by surprise. Generally, being minutes away from a Harry encounter filled her with happy, anxious butterflies and she usually sparkled with eagerness and expectancy. There was something about the burrow though, tonight, that was playing with her sense of normalcy.

"Did you hear that, Molly?" asked Andromeda from the sink. She was staring up at the stairwell with a quizzical expression. "I heard some banging around up there. Have the young ones arrived already?"

"Oh," Ginny said. She threw off her mum's old floral apron that she'd borrowed while working the bread dough and checked her face for remnants of flour in a copper pot that was hanging on a rack on the wall. "Oh," she repeated. "The butterflies are back," she thought as she felt her heartbeat speed up in anticipation of the trio. She watched the stairwell with her mum and the others and Teddy started up a fresh round of wailing.

"Shush now, little one," Mrs. Tonks cooed. "It's nearly dinner time. You'll have your food in no time at all, now hush."

In the front room, a whirl of energy flashed, followed by two more whirls in quick succession: Harry, Ron and Hermione had arrived. Ginny jumped, nearly knocking the copper pot off its rack as she ran over and hugged the lot of them.

"Get off, Ginny," Ron whined. "You just about made us fall back into the fireplace."

"Hello Ginny!" Hermione said, hugging her back. "I feel like it's been ages since we've been able to visit you!"

Ginny stifled a response. It had been ages. Four weeks, as a matter of fact, since she'd seen anyone outside of her Hogwarts circle. Harry had begun working weekends, writing long descriptions in his letters of the travel details he'd been on and of various tracking strategies that his Auror friends used in the process of hunting Dementors.

To Ginny, the letters were beginning to paint less of a picture of Harry Potter: the student who had a side job at the Ministry and happened to work with Aurors; and more of a picture of Harry Potter: the Auror who just happened to get his paycheck signed by a different Ministry department and who scraped by his exams by copying his best friend's notes and essays at night. Hermione disengaged herself form Ginny's group hug and Ginny stared up at Harry Potter: the completely adorable boyfriend who she hadn't seen in a month.

"Hi," she said.

Harry grinned. "Hi, yourself," he replied, speaking quietly in his low, sexy voice. Ginny couldn't help stealing a quick kiss on his smirking dimple and Harry laughed, moving his head forward to lean into her ear, muttering, "You wouldn't believe how much I've missed you."

Ginny cleared her throat. How did he always know just what to say to bring her back, utterly and completely, heart pounding and palms sweating, into the pro-Harry realm? She let out a sigh, feeling as if she were giving up a year's worth of sweets, and begrudgingly dragged her body away from her boyfriend's solid warmth, plodding over to join the noise in the kitchen with Harry following close behind her. Teddy was still refusing to be mollified by Andromeda's gentle bouncing, and it was soon suggested that they all sit down to dine before the boy made his mouth grow even bigger just to spite them all.

The group scurried into place around the long dining table and took turns entertaining Teddy in his highchair, each trying to earn a smile with their antics. Ron eventually drew squeals of delight with a clever game of peak-a-boo - Apparating and Disapparating at intervals and showing up with a different silly face each time. While the boy shrieked unabashedly, Ginny caught Hermione's eye: it wasn't difficult to guess what was passing through that brain of hers. "Yes, Hermione," Ginny reflected, "Ron would make an excellent dad someday."

Mrs. Tonks took advantage of the distraction to warm up a bottle of milk, placing it and a plate full of peas on the tray of Teddy's highchair. He seemed contented for the moment, popping peas into his mouth sloppily and watching with interest as Mrs. Weasley ladled out huge bowls of hot stew and Ginny passed around platters of sliced bread and potatoes.

"Don't let them fool you," Ginny said, squinting her eyes wisely at Teddy. "Those look all cool and green and fun and everything, but they're really vegetables." She crinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue, earning nothing more than a grunt from the boy and an "Oh, Ginny" from her mum.

"Oy, Ginny! Can you pass the potatoes?" asked Ron.

"Right," she said. "Because I wasn't already doing that."

Ron gave Ginny a brotherly leer and sat back in his chair, taking a sip of pumpkin juice while the platters made their way around the table.

"Fred always hated my potatoes," Mrs. Weasley muttered when the serving dish passed her. She swallowed and sniffed broodingly while she lifted the serving spoon to drop a portion of boiled potatoes onto her plate.

"I...I heard that you've joined the Aurors now, Harry," Mrs. Tonks said, her voice riding bizarrely in the wake of Mrs. Weasley's soft lament. "Is it true?"

Ginny's eyes flew to the handsome face of the boy beside her. Behind his glasses, Harry's eyelashes fluttered a few times.

"No," Harry said. He looked around the table and scratched the back of his neck. "No, I work with them a good deal now, at the ministry, but I'm not an Auror."

"But you wouldn't mind being one, would you?" Ginny asked. She wasn't sure why she asked it - everyone knew of Harry's career ambitions. The question had just sort of slipped out.

"Well, yeah," Harry said. "I'd like to be an Auror, but I've got to finish school first, and then there are exams -"

"I'd like to join the Aurors as well," Ron added. Mrs. Weasley coughed when she heard this and Ginny noticed that her mum's eyes were tearing up. "What's with her?" she wondered. "Surely she's known that we all want to be Aurors."

Teddy made a few high-pitched, excitable sounds and leaned over in his highchair in search of the peas he'd just tossed off, smiling with pride as if he'd just discovered something amazing. Ginny, Ron and Harry laughed at the boy's antics but Andromeda scooted her chair back and dismissed herself.

"Mrs. Tonks is just a bit on the sensitive side when it comes to wasting food," Ron said as the witch made her way into the front room.

"Ron!" Hermione whispered. "Can't you see that she's crying? The holidays are very rough for people who've...who've suffered a loss. You have to be more considerate."

A crashing sound from upstairs caused Ginny's head to jerk momentarily. She turned to her mum and ticked her head toward the front room, gesturing for her to help comfort Mrs. Tonks, who was standing in front of the fireplace, staring into it and sobbing silently. While Ron and Hermione continued their volleying, Ginny excused herself from the table to accompany her mum, hoping that she could be of some help as well.

"Are you all right?" Ginny asked when she approached Mrs. Tonks' sloping form.

She was sure that she sounded just as lame as any of the busybodies who she herself ran into every week or so at a store here in town or in the hallways at school. "Are you doing okay?" they would ask in an intimate manner - even though Ginny usually didn't even know the person's name. "How is your family? We are all so worried about you. Just let us know if there's ever anything we can do."

Since chance meetings usually didn't lend themselves to the kind of time it would take to actually give a proper, truthful answer to these kinds of questions and offers, Ginny would always just smile patiently and say, "We're fine. Thanks for asking."

"Are you all right, Mrs. Tonks?" she repeated, hoping that she sounded more genuine than all of those near-strangers had.

"Andromeda..." Mrs. Weasley added. Her voice was shaky and Ginny noticed now that her mum was crying too. If George were around, she thought, she might suspect that he'd snuck some sort of depressant into the stew. Sap from a weeping willow branch or some such thing.

"I just miss them so," Mrs. Tonks sobbed. "I was sitting there watching Teddy and...he reminds me so much of my little Nymphadora." She dropped to her knees, forcing Ginny and her mum to kneel beside her, each leaning in and putting an arm around the distraught witch. "And I don't even have Ted to... I miss them so much sometimes that I don't see how I will ever get through it."

Two bangs on a door upstairs caused Ginny once again to jerk her head upward. Her eyes fell shut as she grabbed hold of Mrs. Tonks - thinking that she had no idea how to help the woman - and listening as her mum's trembling voice struggled to deliver thoughtful words of support. She felt dizzy with emotion, strange and powerful within her, and she fought to open her eyes against the rush.

Grunts, pounding and rattling sounds continued to resonate from upstairs. With much effort, Ginny was able to open her eyes just as Andromeda dropped to the floor in heavy heap. "Mrs. Tonks!" Ginny screamed. "Mum, what's wrong with her?"

Ginny's mum grabbed her hand. "Ginny, your wand!" she whispered hoarsely before falling beside her friend.

Harry came running into the front room while Ginny's hand fumbled in her pocket for her wand. "Right," she thought as he pulled her up to a standing position. "We're being attacked by -"

"Dementors!" Harry yelled. Flashes of light illuminated the dark room and a burst of adrenaline shot through Ginny. Teddy was crying again from his chair in the kitchen.

"Dementors!" Harry repeated. "Twenty or more of them. In the yard."

Ginny lashed her wand forward and conjured up her latest favorite memory: a little moving picture of herself and Harry sharing a laugh over glasses of wine in a chic restaurant. She felt the gold bracelet that Harry had given her as a birthday present rattling down her wrist as her wand hand performed a short series of swishes. "Expecto Patronum!" she shouted, and a silver mare shot out of her wand, bursting through the door out into the yard.

Harry swept her into his grasp while he cast his wand about in a quirky fashion, conjuring multiple stags and steering them around the yard.

"Harry -- what?" Ginny began. She watched three more stags join her mare and could hear her father, Ron and Hermione shouting their own incantations at various distances.

"How can you do more than one?" she shouted. She was afraid to say the incantation again - worried that it would release her first mare, which was currently chasing a Dementor out of the garden area.

"No," Harry said. "Don't run them off. Keep them in the yard. Surround them," he ordered. "I've already notified the Aurors."

"Um...okay," Ginny said. She directed her mare over to the far side of her prey and herded the Dementor into the center of the yard where five of Harry's stages were standing in a neat circle, as if each were forming the point of a large pentagram. The Dementor warbled a bit and then tried to fly up and out of its trappings, only to be chased back down by Ron's Patronus, which was soaring above them with its paws outstretched.

"How long can we keep them in there?" Ginny asked, breathless and intrigued. She twirled around to find another Dementor and chased him into the middle of the pentagram too.

"As long as the Patronuses hold up," Harry said. "Some people can only conjure them for a few minutes, some longer."

"Oh," Ginny said. Right. Keeping good thoughts, she conjectured, would tend to get more and more difficult in this cold mist, with the constant barrage of dreary images and sounds that kept banging at one's consciousness. And the awful smell.

She closed her eyes, worried about her own Patronus, and focused on the cooling effect her bracelet had on her wrist out in the cold air. More private scenes and conversations played in her mind, reminding her of precious slivers of space and time where she felt what it was like to be cherished, appreciated...longed for.

When she opened her eyes again, Ginny saw her mare shining as bright as ever and she gave it a nod. "That a girl," she extolled.

"Harry! Ron!"

Hermione's voice called out from somewhere within the house, raspy and strained. "Two of them got in here! I've got Teddy!"

Ginny held her wand steady while her second Dementor snaked about for an opening, its grey-black robes fluttering ominously. Ron's terrier flickered above them, fading back slightly and giving the trapped Dementors renewed energy.

"They're going to get out," Ginny yelled.

"It's okay. You stay hear, I'll help Hermione." Mr. Weasley's deep voice boomed loud into the chaos and Ginny heard a "pop" near her. She turned her head toward the spot, but saw nothing more than an empty yard. Her father must have been there and Disapparated, she thought. Another flicker of light drew her attention back up to Ron's Patronus and Ginny realized that he was losing it.

"Harry," Ginny said. "Show me how to do the thing. We need another Patronus."

Harry was standing next to Ginny with his wand held up above him, pointed at a slight downward angle. His eyes followed Ginny's for a quick second up to the faltering terrier and he pushed his lips together.

"Here," he said. "You need to keep your wand pointing directly at your mare and ask her to split into another." He gave his wand a quick twist and jerked it up and down. "I can't do any more than I've already got."

Ginny looked at her silvery horse and mimicked Harry's wand motions. Nothing happened. In the house, she could hear the ghoul howling.

"Hermione, Dad! Is everything all right in there?" she yelled.

With her heart pounding terribly inside of her chest, she caught site of Ron standing on the other side of the pentagram from her. He had a desperate look on his face and Ginny knew she would have to conjure up another Patronus quickly - before he released the Dementors and joined his father in the house to help Hermione.

No answer came, but Teddy gave another wail and Ginny could hear faint whispers. Reassured by the sound, she twisted her wand again, concentrating on her good memory.

"You'll need another one," Harry said. "Think of a totally different memory. You'll need a different kind of feeling for each Patronus."

"Right," Ginny said. "Because they're so easy to come by right now." She stared at her mare. "Okay, little Ginny, let's try something of yours," she thought. "Looks like getting Harry to notice me will only get us so far." Delving deeply inside her own head, Ginny began to roll back the years, searching for something that stood out as a joyous moment. The mare flickered in the same manner as Ron's little silver dog had, and Ginny frowned at it.

"Keep the other memory too," Harry said. "You have to concentrate on both.

"Right," Ginny repeated. "Why don't I just split myself. It might be easier."

"That might come in handy," Harry quipped. "For when you have to go back to school."

Ginny shot him a glance. "Come on little Ginny," she muttered. She stared once again at her mare, just as the light above her dimmed. "Harry and me, up in a tree," she thought, "saying 'I love you'." She heard Harry's voice, over and over again and made another attempt to recover a second happy thought - something completely unrelated to the overconfident, strikingly handsome wizard on her right.

A swooshing sound alerted her to the fact that Ron's Patronus had extinguished itself completely, and Ginny saw her brother make a mad dash for the house. She twisted her wand again and flicked it up and down, concentrating on a particularly wonderful Christmas morning when she'd received a beautiful princess gown from some aunt or another along with a huge box of chocolates. It was the first Christmas that Ginny had any memories of, and she focused on how wonderfully special she had felt to receive such a girlish gift. Her wand glowed.

"You're doing it!" Harry yelled.

One of the Dementors edged upward and Ginny twisted her wand again. "Oh no you don't!" she shouted. Another bright mare shot out of her wand and she grinned, forgetting for a moment that Hermione, Teddy, her mum and Mrs. Tonks were trapped inside the house with another pair of the wretched, soul-seeking Dementors.

"Ginny, you did it!" Harry beamed while Ginny's new mare flew up to take the place of Ron's Patronus, high above the circle of bright stags.

She tried to keep her thoughts in line: "I love you too," Harry's voice would say in her head while she recalled her four-year-old self trying on a lacy white dress and twirling about her bedroom in it, her face stained with melted chocolate.

"You did it!" Harry shouted again.

"Yeah," she said. "I did."

"Still, if you'd like to replicate yourself..." Harry teased. "I could almost conjure up another stag, thinking about the possibilities."

Ginny tried to return Harry's jibe, but her new mare started to float backward when she opened her mouth. She closed it tightly and turned her focus back to her memories: trading present Harry for a long-ago version of him - one who was scared to pieces and desperate for someone to encourage him. "I love you," she repeated in her head - this time in her own voice - while another, younger Ginny danced happily around the pair of lovesick teens in her princess gown. "You won't believe how things turn out, Harry," she thought as she pictured him all folded up in the tiny treehouse, naked without his glasses. "You wouldn't believe the things that you do. You are going to amaze the world, Harry Potter."

Apparators - half a dozen or so - appeared near Ginny and Harry, popping up all around the yard in quick succession. Cracks littered the air and bright Patronuses galloped and soared in and out of the trees, toward the house and into Harry's circle, rounding up the Dementors and forcing them into what Ginny assumed was a flying formation. The Aurors worked quickly, calling out cryptic commands and zipping off spells every second or two. Ginny couldn't make out what exactly it was that they were doing until she saw two of them pull out brooms and mount them.

"Coming Potter?" one of the Aurors asked.

Harry turned to Ginny. He was still holding his five Dementors in position, though there were no longer any Dementors trapped between them. "Can you Apparate?" he asked.

Ginny shook her head, noticing that she only had one Patronus now. She lowered her wand, resting her mind for a moment so that she could concentrate properly. "Can I what?" she asked.

"Apparate," Harry said. "I want to show you where we take them. The Dementors."

"Oh," Ginny said.

"But civilians are only allowed if they are of age, can conjure a corporeal Patronus...and can Apparate. It's a safety precaution."

Ginny smiled. "You sound like one of those text books we have to study for Newts this year."

"Harry," the Auror said. The thickly cloaked wizard was still standing astride his broom with a look of impatience on his bearded face. "We're ready now for the transport. Could use the help, if you're not too beat."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'll be along," he said.

"You go, I'll see you when you get back," Ginny said. She couldn't help but laugh at Harry's face as he summoned his broom and prepared to join the Aurors and the long string of Dementors that were being guided into flight. He looked like a professor who was trying to hide his disappointment. "And you can help me with the Apparating thing when you get back here," she yelled.

Ginny stood in the yard and watched the Dementors being led away to some poor, unsuspecting, haunted house. Aurors on brooms used their shiny Patronuses to force a neat line of Dementors up into the air and over the trees, disappearing themselves under Disillusionment charms. Even before they disappeared from sight, she felt a huge spell of relief. Within a minute, the stench of rotting flesh had faded completely and Ginny took in a deep breath. Now that all of the commotion had passed, she realized that her chest had felt, for the past half-hour or so, as if it were being squeezed and her head ached terribly.

Taking a few more breaths of cold winter air, she turned toward the house and allowed the images to soak in. Her father was walking toward her, muttering something about everyone being okay, and the back door was missing - someone must have blown it off in their haste to get inside. Through the doorway, Ginny could see her brother holding Hermione, who was clutching little Teddy. She couldn't hear any crying, but the little boy's mouth was moving and his face was reddened.

"Silencing charm," she thought.

"Everything all right out here?" her father asked as he approached her.

Ginny smiled. They were, she realized, slightly surprised by the notion. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I'm fine. Harry left with the Aurors. Kind of freaky, the way they left, yeah?"

Mr. Weasley laughed in his own, fatherly way. "Yeah, love, I've seen it before. It is kind of freaky."

Putting her arm around her father's waist, Ginny allowed herself to be led toward the house. Her mum would be awake now, she knew, and was probably forcing tea and chocolate on everyone, holding them all at wand point if she had to. The yard was black and quiet, without any Patronuses to light it up, and she had to squint to make out the porch steps, wincing at the pain in her head.

"All right love?" her dad asked again.

"All right, Dad," she said.