door of her efficiency apartment snared her attention. She was old now. The lines of her frown were deep and ugly. Her hair more gray than the blond it had once been. She touched the shaggy ends she had bobbed off to her ears. No use making it easy for anyone looking for her. She studied the hollows beneath her eyes and the crow’s feet nothing short of a face-lift would remedy. All those years within those stark, punishing walls had stolen her youth, her beauty. She had nothing left, save for this long-awaited final act of retribution.
Clare went to the tattered sofa, where her most prized possessions were arranged like a shrine. She lit the small candle on the end table and dropped to her knees. Confident in her ability to overcome all blockades thrown in her path, she studied the photos lined up against the back of the worn cushions. Each one would soon know the truth. Each one would feel her pain and finally understand what only a mother who had sacrificed so much could.
And before they answered to their maker for their sins, each one would realize that it had never been
what if wicked old Clare won one of her many appeals. It had always been simply a matter of time.
There was no escaping destiny.
Clare bowed her head and began to pray. She prayed for strength, for courage to stay her course. Once it was done, she cared little what happened to her.
She lifted her gaze to the photos worn by time and the caress of her fingers. Mommy was here now. The waiting and wondering would soon be over.
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