I hold my nephew against me, as he cries the tears of a brave child. And maybe it’s me but I could almost swear I feel a shift in the air, like a changing of the seasons. I have the sense that Sam is saying goodbye to something as he cries—to the last pieces of his childhood, maybe; of its protective shell. And when he’s done he will be different somehow: he’ll be out with us, here in the adult world, in all its icy beauty.

And something will be lost, and something gained.

I keep my hand against his warm head.

“Brave boy,” I whisper. “Brave boy.”

*

Oliver called Mom to let her know everything was fine, but she’s still waiting in the lobby for us as our bedraggled group of four troops in. Dennis is waiting too, springing from his seat as we walk in. Abigail called him in the cab on our way back, letting him know what had happened. I figured she’d be hardly speaking to me, but in fact she doesn’t really seem angry at me at all. She’s been so focused on Sam, chiding him and apologizing in almost equal measure.

“What the hell?” Dennis says as he reaches our little group. “Sam, what were you thinking? What kind of behavior do you call that? In a strange city, Sam!”

Sam clears his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s not acceptable behavior, Sam,” Dennis insists. “And now we’re going to be hitting the road way later than we were supposed to. The traffic’s going to be abysmal.” He looks at Sam, then Abigail. “Are you packed? Ready to go?”

“Dennis.”

My sister’s voice cuts in, quiet but firm. I think there’s something in her tone that makes us all turn.

“I need to talk to you. Can you step outside with me for a bit?”

Dennis looks incredulous.

“This is not the time, Abigail. You need to get a move on. My bag is downstairs already. ”

She clears her throat.

“No, Dennis…We need to talk.”

Mom glances around.

“What about if I take Sam over to the diner? He could probably do with something to eat.”

“I’m okay,” Sam says, but I see what Mom means. He does look a bit peaky.

Dennis glares at Mom.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Abigail says. “Dennis?” She looks at him. “We can talk right here in the lobby if you prefer?”

He looks at her like it’s a trick question, which maybe it is.

“Fine,” he says irritably. “Fine. If you must.”

We watch them leave. Sam looks at Mom, and Oliver looks at me. Mom sighs.

“Come on, dear,” she says to Sam. “Let’s get you a sandwich.” She looks at Oliver and me. “Coming?