Chapter 11 - THE FIRST LETTER

Three months later, the reply came.

It arrived on a Tuesday morning, plain white envelope, no return address, handwriting neat and careful. Mia found it in the mailbox and ran inside holding it carefully, as if it might break.

“Dad! It’s from her!”

We sat at the kitchen table together while Mia opened it. Her hands trembled as she unfolded the paper.

*My dearest Mia,*

*Your drawing arrived. I have it taped to the wall beside my bed. I look at it every morning when I wake up and every night before I sleep. Thank you. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever received.*

*I am sorry I left. I am sorry I could not stay. But I am working hard. Every day. To be better. To be worthy of you.*

*I have found work helping children who have been hurt or lost. It is hard work. But it helps me understand what I did wrong. It helps me understand how fear can make people blind to what is right.*

*I will write whenever I can. But please… do not feel you must write back. Not yet. Take all the time you need. I will wait. However long it takes.*

*I love you. More than words can say.*

*Vanessa*

Mia read it slowly. Twice. Then she looked up at me, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“She’s helping other kids?”

“It sounds like it.”

Mia traced the handwriting with her finger. “Do you think she’s sorry?”

“I do, Mia. Truly.”

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Mia folded the letter carefully and put it back in the envelope. She stood up and walked to the drawer where she kept her treasures—her drawings, her ribbons, the letter from Vanessa. She placed it gently on top.

“She’s trying,” Mia said quietly. “And I will try too.”