He never met them, never held them, never knew for certain that his suspicion had been right.

And yet in the most literal sense, it was his hands — patient, distrustful, loving — that lifted them out of danger.

I have come to believe that this is what real protection looks like: not the grand gesture in the moment of crisis, but the quiet, unglamorous, half-resented work someone does for you years in advance, on the chance that you will one day need it and they will not be there to help.

Chapter 8 — He Pulled the Pin