I got dressed and tossed her backpack on my shoulder, and together, we set out. Portia held my hand as we walked down the street, and she carried the pie in the other. We didn't speak, but her thumb caressed the top of my hand and spoke a language all its own. Ever since we were kids, she'd done it to reassure and calm me, and now I was grateful for all those years so I understood its quiet meaning.