humming steadily as the snowy landscape stretched below.
Seated beside me were the four people who mattered more than anything else in my life.
Noah.
Ethan.
Sophia.
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Olivia.
My eight-year-old quadruplets.
Two boys and two girls.
They wore coordinated navy-blue winter coats, neatly polished shoes, and small honorary insignia gifted by members of my unit.
Noah adjusted his miniature officer’s cap for what must have been the fifth time.
“Mom, are we really going to meet Grandpa?”
Sophia leaned forward.
“What about Grandma? Will she be there too?”
I looked at their hopeful faces.
“We’ll find out when we arrive.”
I wanted to promise them a wonderful reunion.
But I knew better than to make promises about people I couldn’t control.
All four children had inherited features that Daniel’s relatives would recognize immediately.
His striking gray eyes.
His slightly crooked smile.
And the familiar dimple that appeared whenever
