Chapter 8 - The ApproachClara stepped out from behind the tree.
Her boots pressed into the dry grass.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Ryan didn't notice.
Chloe didn't notice.
Eleanor did.
The old woman's head lifted.
Her eyes narrowed.
For a second, she thought she was dreaming.
Then Clara stepped into the sunlight.
Eleanor's lips parted.
"Clara?"
The word was barely audible.
But Clara heard it.
She stopped.
Their eyes met through the bars.
Decades of anger collapsed into a single moment.
Clara saw her mother's face.
Older.
Smaller.
Broken.
Eleanor saw her daughter's face.
Harder.
Stronger.
But unmistakably hers.
Neither woman moved.
Then Clara whispered:
"I'm here."
Eleanor began to cry.
Not loudly.
Just silently.
Tears slipping down a face that had forgotten what hope felt like.
Ryan finally turned around.
His smile disappeared.
"Who the hell are you?"
Clara kept walking.
"My name is Clara."
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She stopped ten feet from him.
"Eleanor is my mother."
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