The soldier held the salute long enough for everyone in the driveway to understand that it was not ceremonial.
“Major,” he said, his eyes fixed on me. “The convoy is secure. We are ready to move on your order.”
Julian’s Audi keys stopped turning around his finger.
My father stepped onto the porch with his newspaper still pressed against his chest, while my mother and Harper stood behind him in the open doorway.
None of them spoke.
