Esperanza looked at her face as if studying a forgotten mirror.
“You knew I was coming.”
“Doctor Serrano called.”
“Did you send the appointment card?”
“No.”
“Did you send the anonymous note to Doctor Paloma?”
Elena shook her head.
“No.”
“Did you arrange this pregnancy?”
The question was direct.
Elena closed her eyes briefly.
“No.”
Esperanza watched her.
“I need more than that.”
“You deserve more than that.”
Elena opened the door wider.
“Please come inside.”
The front room was warm and modest. Books lined one wall. A bowl of lemons sat on the table. Near the window stood the same wooden chair visible in the photograph.
Doctor Mateo Serrano was already there.
He was in his late fifties, with graying hair and a careful manner. He rose when they entered.
Mother Caridad noticed immediately that he wore no ring.
“Doctor,” Paloma said.
“Paloma.”
Their greeting was polite but strained.
Elena offered tea.
No one accepted at first.
Then Esperanza said, “Yes, please.”
The ordinary request seemed to release everyone from a held breath.
Elena went to the kitchen.
