Nathaniel straightened up slowly from the open door, his practical eyes taking in every detail of the packed back seat.

“You slept out here last night,” Nathaniel said.

Martha held the jumper clamps tight in her gloved hands, looking straight at the frosty windshield of his truck.

“The sedan keeps the wind off us,” Martha said.

“It was eighteen degrees in Lancaster last night,” Nathaniel said.

“We have four blankets,” Martha said quietly, her edge easing into plain defiance.

“We did fine.”

Nathaniel looked past her shoulder through the frosted glass of the rear passenger window.