“They bother you?”

She turned to see if Phil was picking a fight, if he was serious. But only the normal preoccupied sweet smile that let her know he was on her side—even when not fully there—lay on his face. Since she had no real answer, nothing to defend herself with, she only poked at his side and turned to see what Molly thought.

Molly was in the backseat, her head cocked to the left, her mouth slack in innocent sleep. The image of her as a toddler, propped in the car seat with her pacifier and stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh, brought a flash of tears to Amy’s eyes. Her beautiful family. How could she let images of Nick intrude on this? She pushed the small black button to roll down the car window, scrubbed at her eyes.

She pushed her head out the window, like their old dog, Duke, and let the pure mountain air clean her face, her eyes, her mind. Duke—what a faithful and sweet dog he’d been. Why had they never bought another? Oh yeah, Phil had said there was enough to do around the house without training another dog.

A burst of anger at Phil surprised her. It was unwarranted: an uncontrolled flash. She pushed the emotion down. She’d agreed—no more dogs. She almost always agreed with Phil. She was the one who’d given the kids the lecture about how few years they had left at home, and who would be the one to take care of the dog after that? She hadn’t been angry about it then. Or had she? Her emotions confused her, the years melding; what had she felt then? Now?

She inhaled the wet and cleansing mountain air that was thinner up here; it was weightless compared to the cloying air of the city, of the beach, of home, yet carried in it so much more. They’d discussed this once, the character of the air—why it was different and how it made them feel. She pulled her head back inside the car, pushed her hair from her mouth.

Phil looked at her. “You trying to knock yourself out on a pine tree to avoid the weekend?”

“Very funny. I’m just feeling a little carsick. Phil, do you remember when we talked about the air? How light it is in the mountains, but at the same time it carries so much more in it . . . weighty but not . . .” She looked out the window. “I’m trying to remember what we were saying . . . why.”