He looked down at the folder in his hand, then tossed it into one of the open boxes.

The girls ran through the empty room, their laughter bouncing off the cedar-paneled walls.

They were playing tag, their small shoes squeaking on the polished hardwood floors.

They looked healthy, their cheeks flushed with color.

The terror of the blizzard was gone, replaced by the excitement of a new adventure.

“We’re leaving for Oregon in the morning,” Nathan said.

“The house there is small, but it has a big garden.”

“It’s close to the water.”

“I think it’s exactly what we need.”

“It sounds perfect, Nathan,” I said.

He turned to me, his hand reaching out to squeeze mine.

“I want you to know how grateful I am,” he said.

“You were the only one who saw what was happening.”

“You protected them when I was too blind to see the danger.”

“I was just doing my job,” I said gently.

“But I’m glad I was here.”

“If you ever want to visit,” he said, “you have a home there.”

“The girls would love to see you.”