Chapter 1

Emily Stone sits in the window-seat, looking out over the hills which are lightly coated with snow and a-glitter with frost. The wall that surrounds her father’s estate is little more than a statement: if you step beyond this point uninvited then you are trespassing. The hills in the near distance are the real boundaries of her world these days. For the moment she can forget. For the moment she can see only the lovely winter morning. It is vibrant and alive. The young woman is wrestling with the idea of the holiday season which is fast approaching. It is a time for miracles; no one thought she’d be alive to see another Christmas. Her car had not survived; but she had. At times, during the slow recovery process, she couldn’t understand why she had lived. These days, when the pain seeps through the medication she finds herself sometimes wishing that she hadn’t.

Depression: the doctors had warned her that it would be a problem and they had been right about that. It is to be expected when an active young woman suddenly finds herself confined to a hospital bed. She had been released from the hospital with the promise that she would have a bevy of medical and emotional assistance whenever she needed it. Well, she thinks to herself, she needs it now. In spades.

A slight noise behind her causes the corners of her mouth to twitch; she isn’t alone and the arrival of her breakfast underscores that fact.

“Good morning, Miss Emily,” Lua says as she sets the tray on the small round table just next to the window-seat. The housekeeper longs to shake out the napkin and tuck it in place as she used to do but she has been instructed to let Emily do as much for herself as she can. She is wounded, but she is no longer a child.

“She’ll never get her strength or confidence back if she isn’t allowed to do things for herself,” Emily’s father had told the household staff once the damage had been assessed. “If you think she needs help ask her before you attempt to assist. Let it be her decision. She’s paralyzed from severe damage sustained between the T7 and T8 vertebrae.  Initial swelling around the cervical nerves is beginning to dissipate so she will regain use of her upper body, arms and hands if she’ll let herself do the work.”

So this morning Lua steps aside and watches as Emily uses her arms and upper body to swing from the window-seat to the wheeled chair. And she can’t hide the smile that splits open the lower part of her face. In two short months Emily has gained the confidence and the strength to “do for herself”. Every staff member in attendance keeps a sharp eye on her but they no longer jump forward if she appears to be in difficulty. They all believe that one day Emily’s lovely smile will return. Each one secretly hopes that s/he will be there to see it.

“Thank you, Lua. It looks wonderful.” Emily wheels her chair about so that she can look out the window as she eats. Lua pours out the tea as she would have done even before the accident.

“They are coming to put in the lift today,” she says as she replaces the teapot. “When it is done you will no longer be confined up here until someone is available to carry you down. Mr. Stone has been talking about an “upstairs chair” and a “downstairs chair”; though I am sure I have no idea what he means.”

Emily manages to swallow her mouthful of tea. “What he means, as you well know, is that I am to have two chairs so there will be no danger of my rolling off of the lift. Of course, if the safety bar is strong enough and if I remember to lock the brakes I don’t see that as a problem. Still it’s very thoughtful of …”

“Miss Emily? Are you all right?” Lua is frozen in place as she watches her young miss go pale. “Why, whatever is the matter?” She darts forward and manages to catch the cup that Emily isn’t quite able to replace on the saucer. Just as Lua decides that her mistress is having a fit of some sort the young woman stirs and shakes her head as if to clear it.

“Who was that?” she asks.

“Who was who, Miss?” Lua peers out of the window. “I don’t see anyone.”

“No, no you can’t, now; he’s gone around to the front of the house.” Emily seems to be talking to herself.  Lua listens carefully; perhaps there will be a clue as to why Emily appears to have seen a ghost. “I couldn’t see his face but there is something about him.” Her voice trails off.

After deciding that Emily isn’t in imminent danger Lua stands quietly, watching and listening. At last Emily looks around. “Lua, would you ask among the others? Find out who is working about the place?”

“We were just talking about the lift, Miss,” Lua begins to clear the table trying to look at Emily, out the window and at what she’s doing all at once.

“No, I don’t remember seeing a tool-belt and he wasn’t carrying anything large enough to be the lift chair.” Emily rests her elbow on the arm of the chair and lowers her chin into her hand. “He looked familiar. I’m sure I’ve seen him before.” As if he heard her the mysterious stranger reappears and looks up. It seems as if their eyes meet but Emily knows she’s too far back to be seen from below. Still he does look directly at her window. Emily gasps as she gazes into the eyes of the man who pulled her from the twisted wreck that had been her car.

Lua stands irresolute: she doesn’t like the fact that Emily was white as a sheet and is now cherry-cheeked. What has she seen to cause such a reaction? Before she can voice her concern Emily turns to her.

“It’s the guy who pulled me out of the wreck, Lua! I saw him clearly just before I blacked out.” Emily is startled at the growl which makes it past Lua’s self-control. “What is it?”

“The doctors say that he probably saved your life. They also say that, if he hadn’t moved you, you probably wouldn’t be paralyzed!” Emily nibbles at her lower lip and stares at the woman who has known her all her life.

“Well, I think I’d rather “probably” be paralyzed than “probably” dead,” the admission startles her as she realizes the truth of her words. “Yes, I’m sure I’d rather be paralyzed than dead.” Emily turns back to the window. The young man is gone. “You will try to find out who he is, won’t you?”

“Yes, Miss,” Lua doesn’t try to mask her disapproval. Although she isn’t quite sure why she disapproves as Emily appears to finally be interested in something outside of herself. Curtsying to one’s employer has gone sadly out of fashion but Emily and Lua understand that when Lua does it it’s a promise given. She lifts the tray, curtsys to Emily and sweeps out of the room to return to the kitchen and to find out about the mysterious stranger.