Blythe feels the palms of her hands slick, as if the cold metal of her wheelchair sears her skin. Edgar walks slowly but steadily, nudging her toward the little stone cottage nestled in the Yorkshire Dales. The door squeaks when he pushes it open, and inside the air is heavy with the scent of pine resin and old firesmoke.
This is where youll stay, he says quietly, without meeting her eyes. Theres firewood, spring water and simple food.
Blythe cannot answer; every breath catches in her throat.
RRichard? she whispers.
He wont be back soon. He says its too hard for him to watch your illness, Edgar replies, expression flat.
And then she erupts:
It isnt my illness thats hard! Its his conscience! How could how could he leave me here?
Edgar shifts uneasily, then shrugs.
I dont know. People do foolish things for money or for peace of mind. Im paid to look after you. Thats all.
And he leaves her alone.
Days drift by slowly. The fires warmth barely reaches the corners of the room, and the nights feel endless. Each morning Edgar arrives with a pot of herbal tea, a slice of bread and a few vegetables. He is a silent man, but his eyes hold a gentleness Blythe hasnt seen in anyone for ages.
Sometimes, while he feeds her, his rough hands tremble.
Maybe you could still walk? he asks once.
The doctors said no. My spine is destroyed, she replies.
He shakes his head slowly, as if refusing to believe it.
One evening, as the wind whistles through the woods, Edgar lights the oil lamp and settles beside it.
You know, Blythe, your father used to come here sometimes. He bought firewood from me. I respected him. He was an honest man, he says.
Her heart tightens. She misses her fathers voice, the one that always soothed her. If he were alive, he would never have let Richard treat her this way.
Edgar, if I ask to run away from here will you help me? she whispers.
He watches her for a long moment, then answers, Yes. But I dont know where youll go.
One crisp morning Richard appears again, his expensive suit looking absurd against the damp forest floor.
How are you feeling? he asks with a forced smile.
I miss the fresh air of the Lake District, Blythe replies, her tone dripping with bitter irony.
He clears his throat. I need your signature on some paperwork for the hotel. You have to understand.
In that instant everything becomes clear. It was never about care; it was about her inheritance. Richard wants to claim it all, and she is the obstacle.
I wont sign anything, Blythe says softly, but firmly.
His eyes harden. Then youll stay here until you change your mind, he says before turning and walking away without looking back.
When he disappears, Edgar steps beside her and places a hand on her shoulder. You dont deserve this. Your father would have told you to fight.
But how? I cant walk.
Your legs arent everything. You have a mind, a will, and there are people who will stand by you.
That night Blythe does not blink. The next day Edgar brings her an old cordless phone.
Use it. Call whoever you need. Ill help you get to the town, he says.
With trembling fingers she dials Martha, her longtime nanny. The moment she hears Marthas voice, tears burst from her eyes.
Martha, Richard abandoned me in the woods. I want to fight. I want my life back, she sobs.
A few days later Martha arrives in a minibuss. With Edgars help they lift Blythe into the vehicle and drive her straight to the family solicitors office in Leeds.
Richard strides into the solicitors room confident that everything is under control. When he sees Blythe in her wheelchair, fire burning in her eyes, he freezes.
You thought you could hide forever in the woods? she says coldly. No, Richard. I am my fathers daughter and I will fight.
The solicitor hands over the documents. Richard tries to resist, but the evidence is plain: he intended to have her declared incompetent to seize the estate.
The case drags on for months. In the end the judge rules in Blythes favour. The inheritance remains hers, and Richard is not only stripped of the will but also cut out of her life.
One afternoon Blythe looks out the window again. The town glitters under the sun, and a new strength wells up inside her. Edgar is now the official manager of the property, and Martha remains at her side.
Do you know whats strange? she asks Edgar. I thought my life ended in this wheelchair. Instead, its just beginning here.
He smiles shyly. Sometimes the forest isnt the end. Its only the start of a new road.
And for Blythe, that road is just opening.
