Las familias paseaban perros.
Una mujer empujó un cochecito más allá de los jardines florecientes.
Daniel whispered:
“He built this?”
Arthur nodded.
“Most of it.”
– ¿Por qué?
Arthur looked at me through the rearview mirror.
“For children.”
The community center director met us outside.
Her name was Naomi Brooks.
When she saw me, she began crying.
“You’re Clara.”
Me quedé mirando.
“You know me?”
“Todo el mundo aquí te conoce”.
Me abrazó antes de que pudiera reaccionar.
Then she hugged Daniel.
Emily.
One by one, all ten children.
“You have no idea,” she kept saying.
“No idea about what?” Daniel asked.
Naomi wiped her eyes.
“About what your father did.”
She led us inside.
Hundreds of photographs covered the walls.
Children.
Teenagers.
Families.
Graduaciones.
Bodas.
College acceptances.
Beneath one photograph was a brass plaque:
THE CLARA BENNETT EDUCATION FUND
I stopped breathing.
Another doorway:
THE DANIEL VANCE TECHNOLOGY CENTER
