Sarah lay there stunned. She saw his lips moving, and on some level she must have heard him, but she could not make sense of what he was saying. Her mind was a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts and emotions and she was powerless to stop them from crowding into her head. It was as if her mind had become as unresponsive as her now-useless limbs.
The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming her. Sarah gulped for breath, unable to get enough oxygen into her lungs. She tried to move her arms, to block whatever was obstructing her breathing, but they were lifeless. Panic overwhelmed her and her vision darkened.
When she was aware of her surroundings again she could not tell how long she had been passed out. Benedict . . . her father . . . sat by her side. He had an anxious look on his face and she had the distinct impression that he had been crying. She did not know him well enough to even imagine the implications of such speculation. However, his expression touched something inside of her.
She felt trapped. She couldn't flee, like she wanted to. She couldn't even turn away. Eyes pleading, she asked in a soft voice "can you leave me alone? I need to think."
"Of course," he said, as he stood and strode out of the room.
He was good to his word. For the next week, as she struggled with her emotions and feelings, he stayed away. The cook came in several times a day to find out what she wanted to eat and to feed her. A maid stayed just out of sight to get Sarah anything else she needed, as well as cleaning and bathing her.
After eight days of contemplation, Sarah asked the maid to get Benedict. Her father came in five minutes later. Although his face was expressionless, he looked weary, as if he had not slept.
"I'm sorry father," she began, her voice filled with emotion. "It's just that I never had a father. You said that you would be back, and mom and I waited and waited. We got run out of the village and hounded everywhere we went." Her voice cracked and she was silent for a while as tears formed in her eyes. "She couldn't take the shame and disgrace. She only survived long enough to give me a chance." She was crying uncontrollably now. "What happened to you?"
Benedict brushed the tears from his daughter's face as he explained about Amber, his being called away, and the difference in time-streams. His voice caught as he told her about his return and finding that Mariko was dead. And he apologized. It was clear to Sarah--someone who had made a living by watching people's faces and sorting truth from fantasy--that he was not lying. As unbelievable as the story was, she could not help but be touched by his sincerity.
When he finished she was silent for a long time. Finally she said, "I want to go outside. I am tired of being cooped up in here." Benedict left and shortly thereafter a maid came in and dressed Sarah in a riding outfit. Benedict returned and carried his daughter outside. Sarah reveled in the feel of the sun on her face. Benedict carried Sarah around the house, pointing out features and ending up in the intricate Japanese garden in the back. They sat on a bench and smelled the sweet breeze, watching colorful birds flit among the flowers and plants.
After that, Benedict brought Sarah out to the garden every day, or took her riding through the countryside on his favorite roan. They spoke frequently about their pasts and Benedict instructed Sarah about the Family and Amber. It would be almost six months before Sarah began to feel her extremities again and several more until she was able to move on her own. Benedict was patient and supportive throughout her recovery and helped her to learn to walk and ride again. It was just over a year after she was first injured that she felt like her old self again. The only permanent disability she noticed was a tendency toward motion sickness.
It was during their daily ride, several weeks after Sarah had completely recovered, that Sarah came to a final decision. Although her father's conduct toward Mariko was not completely above reproach, he had shown a devotion to her that no one other than her mother had ever shown. She knew that Benedict would do anything for her, just as she would do anything for him. Turning toward her father she threw her arms around him and, with tears in her eyes she whispered, "I forgive you dad." Although he said nothing, he gripped her in his strong arms and she thought that she felt him tremble slightly.