Fox River. Emilie Richards

to see you. Her room is upstairs. Follow the corridor to the end, turn left, and you’ll see the staircase. At the top, make your first left, then a right. Her room is at the end of the hall. But just so you know, it’s my responsibility to notify Mr. Warwick that you’ve visited Mrs. Warwick against medical advice.”

      “Dr. Jeffers, are you a psychiatrist or a spy?”

      “Dear lady, you have some mental health issues you need work on yourself.”

      It was a testament to her mental health that she left without responding.

      

      Julia knew her mother had come. Maisy and Jake’s pickup had a bone-jarring rattle as audibly distinct as the belching of its exhaust system. For years Bard had tried to convince Jake to buy a new truck, but Julia’s stepfather always refused. He was a man who would do without comfort rather than spend money foolishly, not a stingy man, simply one who believed in taking care of what he owned.

      At the sound of the truck in the parking lot, Julia had found her way to the window to confirm her suspicion. She wasn’t sure what she expected, a sudden lifting of darkness, a sneak peek at a world she hadn’t seen in weeks. She felt the cool glass under her fingertips, traced the smooth-textured sill, the decorative grids. But she wasn’t allowed even the pleasure of an afternoon breeze. The window was locked tight.

      She had realized then that she had to ask for help. Practical help, not the kind she had supposedly checked herself in to receive. After the first day she had realized that the Gandy Willson Clinic was the wrong place for her and that her sessions with Dr. Jeffers would be nothing more than a battle of wits. She would hide her feelings, and he would subtly berate her for her lack of cooperation.

      Luckily there was at least one staff member who seemed genuinely interested in her. Karen, the nurse on duty, agreed to call Dr. Jeffers and relay Julia’s demand. If Maisy Fletcher had come to see her daughter, he was not to send her away. If he did, Julia would be the next to leave.

      When Maisy turned into the hallway, Julia knew her mother was coming by the bustling of her footsteps. Maisy was always in a hurry, as if she had somewhere important to go, although, in truth, destination was never a priority.

      “Julia?”

      “In here, Maisy.”

      The door swung open, a welcome whoosh of fresh air followed by a gentle bang.

      “Sweetheart.”

      Julia heard and smelled her mother’s approach, and in a moment felt Maisy’s soft hands against her cheeks. Then she was wrapped in the overpowering fragrance of violets and the soft give of her mother’s arms around her.

      Julia slipped her arms around her mother’s waist as Maisy joined her on the bed.

      “How did you know I was here?” Maisy said.

      “I heard the pickup. I guess it’s a good thing Jake hasn’t gotten a new one.”

      “That’s not what I was thinking on the way over. I almost left it by the side of the road. Darn thing has never liked me.”

      “That’s because you push it too hard.” It was the story of Maisy’s life.

      “How are you?”

      Julia straightened and folded her hands in her lap. For once Maisy seemed to take the hint and moved away a little to give her daughter breathing room. “No better, no worse,” Julia said.

      “Dr. Jeffers is an officious little bastard who probably couldn’t cure a hangnail.”

      “Don’t be so easy on him.”

      Usually at this point Julia would have gotten up to roam the room. Only now, that particular escape was fraught with danger. She had carefully memorized the layout, but she wasn’t sure she could navigate it with her mother watching. For a moment her heart beat faster and her breath seemed to come in short gasps. The world was a black hole sucking at her, threatening to pull her into its void forever.

      “What are you doing here, sweetheart?” Maisy asked.

      Julia willed herself to be calm. “One place is exactly like another when you can’t see.”

      “That simply isn’t true. You need to be with people who love you, in a place you know well. Not with strangers.”

      “Look around. It’s almost like home. I have my own fireplace, a room full of antiques—so I’m told. The view is undoubtedly priceless.”

      “The only priceless thing in this room is my daughter, and she doesn’t belong here.”

      Julia’s sightless eyes filled with tears. She rose. It was safer to risk butting up against the furniture than her mother’s love. “Bard thought it would be best for everyone.”

      “And you agree?”

      “He doesn’t always get his way, Maisy. I just thought that this time, he might be right.”

      “Why is that?”

      “He’s afraid for Callie.” Julia stretched a hand in front of her and was disconcerted to discover that she wasn’t as close to the wall as she’d expected. She inched forward until she could touch it before she spoke again.

      “He says my…condition is confusing and upsetting her, that she feels somehow to blame—”

      “Ridiculous.”

      Julia faced her, or thought she probably did. “How would you know?”

      “Because I’m her grandmother. I’ve called her every day since the accident, and we went out for ice cream after school yesterday. Callie knows it isn’t her fault that Duster balked at the jump and you took it headfirst without him. Those are the chances anybody takes when she’s training a new horse.”

      “Right after the fall Callie told me she was sure Duster balked because she’d startled him with her pony.”

      “But didn’t you explain that Duster had balked half a dozen times in the past and would again? That’s what she told me. I don’t think she feels guilty anymore, she just feels lonely and afraid you aren’t coming back.”

      Julia swallowed tears. “Did you tell her I’m coming back as soon as I’m well?”

      “She’s eight. At that age a grandmother’s word isn’t quite as good as a mother’s.”

      “The fall had nothing to do with this…this condition. Did you tell her that, too?”

      “I did, but that’s harder for her to understand.”

      “How can she? I don’t understand it myself. One minute I can see, the next I can’t. Only there’s nothing wrong with my eyes. There’s nothing wrong with any part of me except my mind.”

      Maisy was silent, waiting, Julia supposed, for her to bring herself back under control. One thing mother and daughter did have in common was a mutual distaste for emotional fireworks. Julia began to prowl the room, hands extended. She found a desk chair and held on to it. “I’m not crazy,” she said at last.

      “Are you afraid I think so?”

      “Bard says it’s all about mind over matter. He wants me to be a big girl, square my shoulders and go about my business. If I put my mind to it and work hard while I’m here, I’ll see again.” She thought she managed a wry smile. “That’s what he would do, of course.”

      “He might be surprised. There are some things in life that even Lombard Warwick has no say in.”

      “I close my eyes, and every single time I open them again, I expect to see, but I can’t. I’ve fallen off horses plenty of times, but this was different. When I flew headfirst over that jump, I remember thinking about Christopher Reeve. His horse balked, and now he’s confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. When I hit the ground I was afraid to move, afraid I might not be able to sit