By the time the ambulance doors burst open at Mercy General, Ethan Whitaker had already died once.

One year later.

The summer sun shone brightly over the mirror-like waters of Lake Placid.

Nestled among the green pine trees was a charming wooden cabin with a wrap-around porch overlooking the mountains. Red and yellow wildflowers bloomed along the stone walkway, filling the warm air with a sweet, peaceful fragrance.

On the front lawn, a wooden blanket was spread out under the shade of a massive oak tree.

Ethan sat on the grass, teaching a chubby, fifteen-month-old Wren how to stack wooden alphabet blocks. She giggled loudly, knocking the tower down with her small hand, her bright blue eyes sparkling with delight.

"Oh, big destruction!" Ethan laughed, lifting her into the air and tossing her gently while she squealed with happiness.

Nora stepped onto the porch carrying a tray with two glasses of fresh iced tea and a bowl of sliced peaches. She wore a breezy white sun hat and a light blue summer dress, her skin glowing under the warm afternoon light.

She walked across the green grass, setting the tray down beside Ethan, and sat cross-legged beside him.

"How’s the master builder doing?" Nora asked, picking up a slice of peach and handing it to her daughter.

"She’s a demolition expert," Ethan joked, leaning over to kiss Nora softly on the lips.

Wren babbled happily, leaning her head against Ethan’s chest, listening to the calm, steady rhythm of his heart beneath his shirt.

Nora rested her hand over Ethan’s, feeling the warmth of his skin, the safety of his presence, and the absolute peace that had replaced the nightmare of that Thursday night.

"I love you, Ethan," she whispered into the gentle breeze.