“No.”
Esperanza’s voice trembled.
“I am only tired of being surprised by my own life.”
Mother Caridad sat beside her and took her hand.
For a moment, the mystery disappeared behind something simpler: a young woman who had carried more uncertainty than anyone should have been asked to bear alone.
“We will find the truth,” Mother Caridad said.
Esperanza looked at her.
“Will we still call it truth if it changes what we believe about one another?”
Mother Caridad tightened her hand around hers.
“Yes.”
Doctor Paloma turned away and began placing instruments into her case.
The click of each metal clasp sounded unusually loud.
Mother Caridad watched her.
“Paloma, we need to speak privately.”
“I expected that.”
Esperanza rose.
“No.”
Both women looked at her.
She stood unsteadily but with determination.
“If this concerns me, I will remain.”
“It may be difficult,” Paloma said.
“That does not make it less mine.”
Mother Caridad saw something new in Esperanza’s face. The softness was still there, but beneath it lived a firmness that motherhood had perhaps given her.
“Very well,” Mother Caridad said. “You will stay.”
Paloma closed her eyes for a moment.
Then she pulled the single wooden chair away from the wall and sat down.
“This did not begin three years ago,” she said.
