** 2001 - Texas **

The hand of the clock moves along the same path, hours and hours, working without delay or advance, similar to those days that tediously repeated, and he had barely managed to exchange a word with his roommate.

As if that wasn't enough, Leona had the two of them make breakfast for the Drakes. In fact, it was not the dry grains of corn and rice, on the contrary, they both ate bread, cheese and fresh fruit.

One morning, after making the Drakes' breakfast, Clara decided to nibble a piece of cheese, after all, she couldn't stand those beans any longer, morning, noon and night. But Leona found out and left them both without dinner.

On summer days, the garden began to shrink and consequently the work too. Good news for both of them, a little free time to let their imaginations flow, which Clara intended to make the most of.

*

The sweet scent of summer afternoons spread across the sky like a blanket. The few clouds chewed and scattered contributed to the imagination and dreams of the little girl sitting on the porch.

"Dad, that one looks like a rabbit," she said as she chewed on some corn kernels. – And that chocolate cake… – this time she used the corn on the cob in her hands, directing the cotton volumes in the sky. - It's that?

-A bird ... - replied the man beside her.

She cracked a smile:

- It looks like a teddy bear...

She took out a few more kernels of corn, brought it to her mouth.

- Daddy, shall we play? - She said getting up excitedly.

- Of course you want to play?

Clara tossed the cob into one of the clogged garbage buckets. She rubbed her hand, removing the few residues from her lips, and directed it to the man sitting on the step.

-It's with you... - she said, running towards the plantation.

Her bare feet skipped over the small leaves of greens and vegetables, stepping over the dusty, dry ground. She opened her arms, feeling the wind touch her face once more, the sound of leaves moving and the radiant light of the afternoon sun in her eyes.

"You can't catch me, Daddy," she yelled as the voice continued to accompany her.

At the end of the garden, she hid behind a bunch of weeds.

She looked around, panting, but the smile spread over her face was bright.

- I caught...

The man touched her shoulder:

-It's with you… - she said running away.

Clara followed him the same way, he was very fast, but he kept his distance.

They headed towards the back of the farm, and he went around one of Jack's trees, while Clara reached out to catch him.

*

- ... Leona is hungry...

The woman in her elegant clothes entered the kitchen. Finding the girl distracted by the window with a pot in one hand and the wooden spoon in another.

Her attention went beyond that wooden window.

- What is the problem? – Leona asked approaching the girl and following her gaze. “But what…” The few words spoken joined the girl's curious gaze.

- I'm here, I'm hungry... - Jack said entering the kitchen.

He looked for a few seconds at the two stops at the window, until his wife called out to him:

- Honey, come see something?

Jack joined the three...

*

- Got it - shouted Clara victoriously.

- Your turn, I'll give you ten seconds...

He walked her around the tree, back toward the entrance to the house. She climbed the porch steps, and walked through the living room, heading for the stairs.

She took the stairs two at a time, and in the hallway, she searched for one of the bedrooms, choosing the Drakes' to hide.

*

- But what was that? – Jack asked spreading the few hairs.

Leona looked at him:

- She's becoming just like us - commented the woman laughing.

'I hope not…' Jack looked at her worriedly.

*

The huge bedroom had the biggest window in the house, so it was very well ventilated and bright, however, the mess on the bed, sheets and pillows revealed that it was just another room forgotten by the Drakes.

The dusty wooden floor was shaped by Clara's feet, leaving their footprints like a trail of breadcrumbs.

Beside the bed, a dresser and an unlit lamp. The old wardrobe next to the door with the doors wide open, showed different types of clothes, some plaid, in which Jack wore and different dresses of Leona full of ruffled lace. Along with the wardrobe, an old trunk perfect for hiding.

He knelt next to the chest and searched for the latches. The locks opened, and the trunk's lid was lifted, revealing an assortment of possibly Leona's belongings. Hats, mirror, lifeless hair, makeup and more beauty products.

Curious, she started with the hats, trying them on; some of them were huge, others tight, only one of them behaved perfectly above her hair, with a strap around it, above the brim.

Clara continued exploring what the chest offered and hidden; Underneath all those belongings, she found a book with a spacious, ornate cover. The leaves in an orange hue expressed how old and forgotten they were at the bottom of the trunk. Her hands held him, bringing him closer.

She glanced at the door, fearing someone would appear, so she tossed the book under the bed. She finally sorted her belongings back into the trunk.

As soon as she was done, she grabbed the book from under the bed, and left the room.

The room was empty, but her eyes peeked around the corners, and with silent steps, she descended the last few steps.

Hearing Leona's heavy words coming from the kitchen, she hurried through the entrance so they wouldn't be seen. She opened the front door and walked out of the house.

She needed to find a more solitary place to open the book, so she went to the back of the house.

She didn't have an attractive view in that space, other than the weeds, the fence that surrounded the farm and the path that also led to the punishment room. An old wagon of Jack's, overgrown with weeds, took up the little space in the grass.

The old and lonely wooden wagon served as a bench to accommodate her reading.

She braced her foot on some of the wooden beams, and rested the book on her legs.

The brown cover was given small abstract yellow strokes, like a splash of gold paint. Clara took it to the other side, running her finger over the orange page. Once again she repeated the process, finding another one, however, with some letters written in blue ink, worn out.

She touched her fingers gently along the scrawled letters on the paper, gliding. It was beautiful handwriting, especially compared to his friend Levy. Extremely firm but perfectly delicate strokes. It was the most beautiful lyrics she had ever seen...

Once again, she slid another sheet to the left, finding more letters and words, but in black ink and engraved on the sheet, belonging to her. Her eyes skimmed over each one, superficially, for they were like symbols she didn't understand. A desire exploded in her heart; she would like to read every line on that page, from the little dash to the full stop.

The wind blew some pages of the book, turning the pages to the other end, and a small photo split it in half, hidden between two pages of the book.

Clara picked up the photograph, and on the open page were some words written in pen, similar to the first page on which she had seen it. Her attention focused on the photo in her hands:

In it was a young girl, with features as light and delicate as handwriting; her face narrowed by waves of golden hair. The dense brown eyes, spontaneous, gazed gently. The expressive smile full of grace and charm.

Her eyes admired every detail of that photo, getting more and more blurry, until one of the tears slipped, making their way down her rosy cheek.

Behind the photograph, the same delicate and smooth handwriting rested, with a few initials, similar to a signature. Also, one sentence, fit above the initials, in the little space.

The sound of branches breaking brought reality:

- Where did you find it?

Jack was looking at her, but there was no expression on her face, however, the deep voice went through her throat coming out in a shy and shaky way.

- And my mother? asked Clara, rubbing her wet eyes with her wrist.

He approached her, and took the picture from her hands, along with the book. Her cold eyes were far from hers.

- Is that her handwriting? He threw another question into the air.

"I don't want you to take it," she said in the same tone.

Clara took the man's thin arm:

- Dad, please... do you know her?

- If Leona finds out, she will be grounded, if you want that? – She asked raising her voice.

Clara looked at the book and the photo in her foster father's hand. Her eyes dropped, right after she shook her head in the negative.

- It's already getting dark, inside...

Clara got off the cart, as she passed it, Jack took the hat that was on her head, and followed her into the house.

*

That night a terrible storm hit the farm and with it hunger and cold. Thunder and lightning poured out of the basement.

Her roommate didn't like to talk much, after all, after her shower, she always slept on a part of the mattress. But he didn't blame her, as the days were extremely tiring. They were easily overcome by sleep.

But that night, the fear of hunger and the noises outside prevented him from sleeping.

Clara played with the small piece of paper in the shape of a heart between her fingers, while her mind wandered, through the walls and doors, until she found the picture inside the book again. Occupying the other part of the mattress.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, tucked the small piece of paper into her pocket. With her free hand, she found the pendant around her neck:

- Dad - whispered - I can't sleep, I'm too scared and hungry... - A sigh left his lips - I miss Levy, Miss Medellin.

She squinted, and the pool of tears trickled down the corner of her eyes until they rested on her arm, which held her head.

- Don't worry, I'm here with you, my daughter...

- With who are you talking to? asked the little girl next to her.

Clara opened her eyes, got up, rubbed her eyes, until she could see the silhouette of the girl's face. It was barely possible to see her.

- With my dad...

"But I don't see anyone," said the girl, looking into the pitch black.

-It's because He's here-she pointed to her heart.

Her silence revealed that she didn't understand Clara's answer.

- Does he talk to you?

- Yes, and I can see it too… – Clara replied with a smile.

"I wish I could see mine," said the girl.

Clara adjusted her legs on the mattress, facing the girl:

- Give me your hands...

The girl stood up, bending her knees as well, and took her hands in hers.

- Now close your eyes, and imagine your father there beside us. - instructed

- But I don't know what he's like? - asked

- Are you an orphan too?

"I think so," she replied with a little sadness in her voice.

- Then I will share my Father with you...

- And what's his name?

- I just call Him Daddy, but my teacher said He is the Father of orphans.

- Okay..., all right - the little girl fixed the voluminous hair scattered over her face, then held her friend's hand tight, closed her eyes - And what do I tell him?

-Ah ... say your name, whatever-she replied closing her eyes too.

A little awkwardly, her roommate began:

- Hi Father of orphans, my name is Jennifer, would you like to be my daddy too?

Jennifer opened her eyes:

- And now, how do I know he answered?

- I feel that He answered... - Clara opened her eyes - My teacher said that He has always been my Father, so I believe He will always be Yours too...

Jennifer moved her lips into a smile, then lay back on the mattress:

- Will He meet us here?

- He's already here...

- He could get us out of here...

Clara folded her arm over the mattress and rested her head silently, thinking about her new friend's words.

...

As I finish this story point, I want you to reflect on something I realized while putting together the puzzle together with my little girl:

As we go along, putting together pieces by pieces, we create a model of the design in advance, however, details of new pieces transform the structure of what we imagined it to be.

Well, what I mean, simply; having a vague imagination about the drawing missing pieces is totally different when it's complete.

For us to appreciate the true image, it is necessary that all the pieces are perfectly fitted, in their proper places. In this way, the vague drawing in our mind will be replaced by the real image, revealing its shades of color, lines and beauty.

Remember that until the last words of this story...