Miranda loved him for making the job of companion and nursemaid sound like a favor and not a burden. She was not particularly close to Fae, having moved away from home when her cousin was still a girl at school, so when she saw her again—a very young woman with wild hair, untidy dress, and dreamy gaze turned inward—she had doubts. It was out of her hands, however. Her boss, her relatives, and her tenant had had some kind of grand consultation, and Fae was installed in the town house as temporary caretaker.

The next visitor was Khabir. He chuckled softly, but his eyes were concerned as he looked down at Miranda. “I wish you wouldn’t do this to me, Miranda. The office is going to fall apart without you.”

“Nonsense, but I appreciate the sentiment.” She hesitated and looked around at her private hospital room. “Tell me, Khabir, can I afford this?”

“Between your tenant’s rent and your work compensation, you can. Don’t worry,” he said with a smile.

She felt a strange emotion. The way he was standing, the tilt of his head, even the kind tone and worried eyes—they all reminded her of her uncle. It felt odd, being semi-adopted and taken care of by her boss.

—

Eventually regular visits were permitted, and Fae and Khabir shaped her days. Fae was the background noise, reading aloud on request from books and newspapers, a distant, almost uncaring distraction that was pure relaxation in comparison to the friends who made a point of seeing Miranda yet could not hide how unsettled they were by her injuries. Khabir was made of stronger stuff. He was the highlight, coming to her in the lunch hour or at the end of the day, sharing mundane office gossip or giving a brief mention of the latest cases. He’s keeping me up-to-date, Miranda realized. As if I’ll be back someday. It was a happy thought.

She began to read for herself, preferring news to novels. Large broadsheets draped over her bed table as she squinted at the print from an awkward angle and turned pages with fingers that still lacked strength but at least had full feeling and control. Fae came, conscientious as ever, to read aloud at Miranda’s request. Otherwise she sat quietly and wrote in her journal or stared out of the window with her usual dreamy gaze.

Weeks passed, then months, and as Miranda squeezed her fists and flexed her arms and slowly regained strength and solidity, she began to look forward to the hard days of learning to walk again. She realized she was counting down, however quietly, to the time when she could once more be at home or at the office, back to her routine life.

She said nothing out loud of her hopes. The doctors still looked distant and answered her questions with vaguely soothing remarks or brusque avoidance.

—