Tuesday, August 2, 9:05 PM. Brewer.

It’s beautiful up here. Even in August it’s cool and comfortable. It actually snowed a little this morning. There is mile upon mile of pristine countryside under those magnificent peaks. I’ve often dreamed of moving, but of course it’s not practical. We’ve got our jobs, our friends, good schools, the church. I think I’d do it anyway but Amy would never agree. There are no colleges up here for her to teach at, and I know she couldn’t live without that.

We made about nine miles. That’s pretty good considering there’s an eight- and ten-year-old in tow.

Everybody had pretty bad headaches the last couple days, but they’re mostly better now. Even mine.

I never could get a signal on my phone and neither could Amy. We’ve been checking from time to time to make sure, and it has been spotty. Today we never got anything. I guess we’re just that far from civilization that they don’t have service out here.

It’s kind of unnerving to go without cell contact. But then I remind myself that thirty years ago, nobody had cell contact. We survived.

I caught her looking at me a couple of times. I suppose cold, surreptitious glares are an improvement on a total lack of contact.

I admit I’m getting a little tired of this. Anybody’d think I was the one who’d had the affair.