Poppy felt the dampness of her palms, as if the cold steel of her wheelchair were searing her skin. Edmund shuffled heavily yet deliberately, shoving her toward the modest thatchroofed cottage nestled in the Yorkshire Dales. The door let out a mournful squeak when he pushed it open, and a heavy scent of pine resin and ancient hearth smoke billowed out.
Here youll stay, he said softly, never meeting her eyes. Theres wood, spring water and simple food.
Poppy could not answer. Each breath lodged like a rag in her throat.
Is Richard? she whispered.
He wont be back soon. He says its too hard for him to watch you suffer, Edmund replied without expression.
Then she snapped, the fury cracking through her frailty.
Its not my illness thats heavy! Its his conscience! How could how could he abandon me here?
Edmund shifted uneasily, then shrugged.
I dont know. People do foolish things for money or peace of mind. Im hired to look after you. Thats all.
And he left her alone.
Days slipped by in a slow, aching crawl. The fires warmth barely reached the far corners of the room, and night seemed an endless stretch of darkness. Each morning Edmund arrived with a tin of herbal tea, a slice of crusty bread and a few boiled vegetables. He was a silent man, yet his eyes held a gentleness Poppy had not seen in anyone for years.
Sometimes, as he fed her, his rough hands trembled.
Do you think you might still walk? he asked once.
The doctors said no. My spine is shattered, she replied.
He shook his head slowly, as if refusing to accept the verdict.
One evening, when the wind howled through the trees, Edmund lit the oil lamp and settled beside it.
You know, Poppy, your father used to come here sometimes. Hed buy firewood from me. I respected hima decent man.
Her heart clenched. She missed the voice of her father, the one that always soothed her. If he were still alive, hed never have let Richard treat her this way.
Edmund, if I if I try to get out of here will you help me? she whispered.
He stared at her for a long beat, then answered, Yes. But I dont know where youd go.
One crisp morning Richard appeared again, his sleek London suit looking absurd against the damp, mosscovered woods.
How are you feeling? he asked with a practiced smile.
I miss the fresh air of the Cotswolds, she replied, her voice edged with bitter irony.
He cleared his throat. I need your signature on some papers. Its about the inn. You have to understand.
In that instant everything fell into place. It had never been about care; it was about her inheritance. Richard wanted to claim everything, and she was the obstacle.
I wont sign a thing, Poppy said quietly, but firmly.
His eyes hardened. Then youll stay here until you change your mind.
And he walked away without looking back.
When he vanished, Edmund came close and placed a steady hand on her shoulder.
You dont deserve this. Your father would have told you to fight.
But how? I cant walk.
Feet arent everything. You have a mind, a will. And there are people who will stand by you.
That night Poppy did not sleep. The next day Edmund handed her an old rotary phone.
Use it. Call whoever you need. Ill help you get to town.
With trembling fingers she dialed Martha, her longtime nanny. As soon as Marthas voice reached her ears, Poppy broke into sobs.
Martha, Richard left me in the woods. I want to fight. I want my life back.
A few days later Martha arrived in a battered minibus. Together with Edmund, they lifted Poppy into the vehicle and drove straight to the family solicitors office in Leeds.
Richard strutted into the firm, confident that everything was under his control. When he saw Poppy seated in her wheelchair, eyes flashing with defiance, he went pale.
You thought you could hide here forever? she said, voice cold as winter wind. No, Richard. Im my fathers daughter, and Ill fight.
The solicitor handed over the documents. Richard tried to protest, but the evidence was clear: he intended to declare her incompetent to seize the estate.
The case dragged on for months. In the end the judge ruled in Poppys favour. The inheritance remained hers, and Richard was not only stripped of his claim to the property but also cast out of her life.
One bright afternoon Poppy gazed out of the cottage window. The town of Leeds glittered under the sun, and a new strength rose within her. Edmund had become the official manager of the estate, and Martha stood by her side once more.
Do you know whats strange? Poppy turned to Edmund. I thought my life ended in that wheelchair. Yet here, its just beginning.
He gave a shy smile. Sometimes the woods arent the end. Theyre only the start of a new road.
And for Poppy, that road was only now unfolding.
