Kathleen Sloane wrote children's books. She was the top of her field. Martin Quincy Lewis was an illustrator. He was the top of his field and had illustrated many of Kathleen's little imaginative stories littered with double meanings. He had never met the woman face to face, but her bubbly personality came through on their rare phone conversations. While delivering illustrations to her he discovered that she was confined to a wheelchair as the result of an accident years earlier. Now, it would seem, feeling was returning to her legs and she was slowly regaining painful movement. They fell in love as she celebrated the fact of her first steps. They went dancing - her feet firmly standing on his shoes and her weight, what little there was of it, held to his moving body. When a fire broke out in their rented home she in an adrenaline engorged state saved both of her parents and fell in flames into the arms of a rescuing fireman. In the hospital x-rays showed a crushed spinal cord which the doctors readily repaired removing the obstacle in the way of full function. She would be able to walk again without pain; however, the stress of trauma left her without any memory of the man that she had loved. Would she remember her artist, and if she did, would she sill love him? He still loved her.