Chapter 12: Letters from Cell Block C
On a chilly afternoon in October, a letter arrived at Clara and Mark’s mailbox bearing the psychiatric facility’s official stamp. Mark opened it with hesitant fingers and read it aloud to Clara as they sat on their front porch.
Dear Clara and Mark,
For two years, I couldn't write back because I felt too ashamed to put pen to paper. Every morning I wake up and see the face of the woman I almost destroyed. The doctors here have helped me face the grief I buried thirty years ago when I lost my first child. I realize now that I was living in a prison of my own making long before I ever came here.
Thank you for not giving up on me when I had completely given up on humanity. Thank you for using Arthur’s gift to save other mothers. I do not deserve your kindness, but I pray every night that God protects you and little Hope.
With all the love my broken heart can hold,
May you like
Eleanor
Clara wiped a tear from her cheek, smiling gently as she looked at Mark. The healing had begun.
