“I am a physician. I try not to react before examining a patient.”
“That is not what I meant.”
Another silence.
Then Paloma exhaled.
“I can be there before noon.”
“Please come sooner.”
“I will.”
Before the doctor could end the call, Mother Caridad added, “And Paloma?”
“Yes?”
“I found something in my office. A strip of medical tape.”
The doctor’s breathing seemed to change.
“Where?”
“Near the chair where Esperanza was sitting.”
“That may mean nothing.”
“Perhaps.”
Mother Caridad looked at the tape again.
“But you recognize why I am asking.”
“I will come at once,” Paloma said, and the line went dead.
Mother Caridad lowered the receiver slowly.
Outside, a bell rang to mark the morning hour. Its familiar sound moved through the convent with measured grace, calling the sisters toward their duties.
Usually, the bell settled her.
That morning, every note seemed to ask a question.
Sister Esperanza sat at the long kitchen table with Miguel on her lap and Tomás beside her.
Sunlight poured through the high windows, warming the stone walls and turning the steam above a pot of milk into pale ribbons. Sister Lucía stood near the stove, slicing bread while keeping an affectionate eye on the children.
Tomás had decided that his wooden spoon was a horse.
