Samuel’s father stood on the porch in a heavy coat darkened by rain, a cardboard box tucked under one arm and concern written plainly across his lined face. He was not one of Jehovah’s Witnesses. He had never shared Samuel’s convictions. He respected them from a distance at best and with frustration at worst. Yet there he was, breath clouding in the cold morning, having come through the storm.

When the door opened, Jack did not waste time on formality.

“I heard what’s happening,” he said. His voice was rough with age and weather. “I brought what I could.”

Inside the box were simple things. Dry food. Batteries. Medicine. Blankets wrapped tight in plastic. Ordinary items carrying extraordinary meaning because of what it had cost him to bring them now.

Nathan stared up at him with wide, uncertain eyes.

Jack crouched awkwardly and held out a flashlight. “For the dinosaur expert,” he said.