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*41* White-out

*Juliet*

A gust of wind picks up my braid and sets my skirts clinging to my legs as Sam and I follow Julia and Ajax to the truck across the front lawn’s yellowed grass. Overhead, it drags at the last few dried leaves clinging to the bare maple branches, rustling them ominously. “Wind’s picked up,” I mention mildly.

“And shifted direction,” Sam adds. “Julia, you’re too little for that. Wait for Mommy or me to open the door.” He jogs ahead and scooping our wayward daughter up around her middle with one arm, tucks her into a giggling squirming football carry, swinging her just a little wildly out of the way just so he can get a thrilled squeal out of her as he opens the driver's side door.

Righting her on her small feet, he gives her a light smack on the bottom. “Now, you can get in. Ajax.” With a graceful bound,

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