He could not blame them.
Visibility was terrible.
Molly cried quietly for ten minutes.
Then she stopped.
Noah preferred the crying.
“Molly?”
No response.
He looked down.
Her eyes were open.
“Hey.”
She blinked.
“What’s your favorite animal?”
Noah did not care about the answer.
He needed her awake.
Molly whispered, “Horse.”
“Horse?”
She nodded.
“What color?”
“Brown.”
“Good.”
Noah kept walking.
“My favorite animal is a dog.”
Molly looked unimpressed.
“That’s boring?”
A tiny nod.
Noah smiled despite himself.
“Okay. Maybe a wolf.”
“Scary.”
“Yeah.”
He tightened his hold.
“Then horse wins.”
By the second mile, the wind changed direction.
It struck Noah directly in the face.
His wet hoodie began stiffening.
Ice collected along his hair.
He stopped beneath a utility pole and adjusted Molly.
His arms burned.
He considered placing her down for thirty seconds.
Then he saw the ice coating the ground and decided against it.
“You still awake?”
Molly whispered, “Yes.”
“Tell me about your horse.”
“I don’t have one.”
“What would you name it?”
She thought.
“Pancake.”
Noah laughed.
“You’d name a horse Pancake?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because pancakes good.”
Noah could not argue with that.
For the next half mile, they discussed Pancake the imaginary horse.
Pancake was brown.
Pancake hated carrots.
Pancake slept in Molly’s bedroom, although Noah explained that horses were extremely large.
Molly insisted Pancake was “little enough.”
By mile three, she stopped talking.
Noah began counting steps.
One hundred.
Then another hundred.
He told himself he could stop after five hundred.
At five hundred, he told himself seven hundred.
At seven hundred, he saw a road sign.
Three miles remaining.
He nearly cried.
Not because they were halfway.
Because halfway suddenly sounded impossibly far from finished.
His right knee buckled.
Noah caught himself before falling.
Molly stirred.
“You okay?”
Noah breathed through his teeth.
“Yep.”
She lifted her face.
“You’re shaking.”
“It’s the wind.”
“You need coat.”
“You have it.”
“We share.”
Noah almost stopped.
For a moment, he heard his mother’s voice.
Not literally.
Just memory.
Erin Carter had always been the kind of person who divided food even when she was hungry.
When Noah was nine, he once asked why she gave part of her lunch to a woman sitting outside a grocery store.
His mother had shrugged.
“Because I had lunch and she didn’t.”
Noah had asked, “What if you’re hungry later?”
Erin smiled.
“Then I’ll be hungry later.”
At fifteen, carrying Molly through freezing sleet, Noah finally understood what she meant.
Some decisions did not require certainty about what happened afterward.
He kept walking.
At mile four, Noah began losing feeling in his feet.
At mile four and a half, he slipped.
This time he fell.
He twisted his body before hitting the pavement so Molly landed against his chest instead of the ground.
Pain shot through his hip.
Molly screamed.
“I got you.”
Noah remained on one knee.
“I got you.”
“Don’t fall.”
“I’m trying.”
He stood slowly.
His left leg shook.
For several seconds, he thought it might not hold.
Then it did.
He continued.
At mile five, headlights appeared behind him.
A pickup approached slowly.
Noah turned and raised one arm.
The truck passed.
He shouted.
It continued.
For ten seconds, anger gave him energy.
Then the truck’s brake lights appeared.
It stopped.
Noah nearly collapsed from relief.
A man stepped out.
Then immediately slipped on the ice, caught the door, cursed, and climbed back inside.
The truck drove away.
Noah stared after it.
Maybe the driver was afraid.
Maybe he intended to call someone.
Maybe he simply decided road conditions were too dangerous to stop.
Noah would never know.
He kept walking.
Molly had become quiet again.
Noah began talking continuously.
He told her about his mother.
About how Erin once burned Thanksgiving dinner and made grilled cheese instead.
About his sixth-grade science fair volcano that erupted before the judges arrived.
About how he wanted to rebuild old cars someday even though he barely knew how engines worked.
“Motorcycles?” Molly whispered.
“Maybe.”
“Grandpa motorcycles.”
“I figured.”
“He loud.”
“Your grandpa?”
“No. Motorcycle.”
Noah smiled.
“That makes more sense.”
A light appeared through the storm.
Then another.
At first Noah thought they were houses.
As he approached, he recognized the outline of the building from Molly’s emergency card.
A wide garage.
Metal siding.
A weathered sign.
Several motorcycles parked under an awning.
Warm yellow light spilled from a side window.
Noah whispered, “We made it.”
Molly did not respond.
“Molly?”
Her eyes opened slowly.
“We made it.”
Noah reached the parking lot.
His legs stopped cooperating.
He walked twenty more yards.
Ten.
Five.
The garage door began opening.
Someone inside must have heard him.
Noah saw a large figure.
Gray beard.
Broad shoulders.
Then his right knee hit the slush.
He tried standing.
Failed.
The man stepped into the storm.
“Hey!”
Noah lifted Molly slightly.
“This…”
His voice broke.
The man came closer.
“What happened?”
Noah looked down at the girl inside his coat.
“Her name’s Molly.”
The man stopped.
Everything in his face changed.
“Molly?”
The child opened her eyes.
“Grandpa.”
Jack Bennett dropped to both knees.
“Molly.”
His hands moved toward her, then stopped.
He looked at Noah as if asking permission without words.
Noah loosened his hold.
“She was by a car.”
Grizzly’s voice shook.
“What car?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where?”
“Six miles, maybe.”
“You carried her?”
Noah nodded.
Grizzly stared at the black coat.
Then at Noah’s soaked hoodie.
“You gave her your coat.”
“She was cold.”
That was when Grizzly noticed how violently Noah was shaking.
He immediately removed his own deep olive canvas jacket.
“Easy, son.”
Noah tried refusing.
“She needs…”
“She’s wrapped.”
Grizzly draped the jacket over Noah’s shoulders.
“You need this now.”
Two more men emerged from the garage.
One shouted for blankets.
Another called emergency services.
Grizzly carefully lifted Molly.
The moment her weight left Noah’s arms, something inside him seemed to switch off.
He tried standing.
His body folded.
Grizzly caught him with one arm.
“Whoa.”
“I’m okay.”