“I found a zip cord. You know, one of those things you ride between the trees? I thought I’d set it up for Isabelle.”

“I see.”

“And the power drill is dead.”

“Right. Well, we’re going to the grocery store. We shouldn’t be more than an hour, but I’ve left the split pea simmering, so could you go in and give it a stir once or twice?”

She opens the door to their station wagon and gets in. Isabelle gets in on the other side, and they drive away. Exhaust lingers in the cold air even after Wilson can no longer hear the car’s engine. He breathes on his hands to warm them, and turns back to the tree.

“I spoke with Dr. Kleiner after your appointment yesterday,” Ruth says. She glances over at her daughter in the passenger seat. Isabelle stares out the side window—or rather at it, Ruth thinks; she can’t see through it for the fog gathered on the glass. “He says he’s not sure he’s the right doctor for you, and he thinks we should find someone else.” She turns the defrost on high, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. It’s a narrow, tree-lined road with blind curves. Ruth drives fast. “He says it takes two to make progress. You can’t draw water from stone.” Ruth sighs and lowers the defrost. They come around a bend in the road and up suddenly on the tail of another car. Ruth brakes and frowns. “Fucking asshole,” she mutters.

She’s quiet for a minute. “Look, Isabelle,” she says. “If you don’t want to speak to me, and you don’t want to speak to your father, fine, but please, please try to cooperate with the doctors. Dr. Kleiner was what, the fourth? They just want to help you. I want to help you. Your father wants to help you. We all want to help you. We love you. Don’t you want to get better? Don’t you want to get to the bottom of all this shit?” She looks at her daughter hopefully. Isabelle sits like stone.