They reached the infirmary door.
Mother Caridad took the handkerchief from her pocket and unfolded it.
The strip of tape lay in the center.
Doctor Paloma stared at it.
“Is it yours?” Mother Caridad asked.
“It is ordinary surgical tape.”
“That was not my question.”
Paloma’s eyes lifted.
“It could have come from my case during an earlier visit.”
“It was fresh.”
“How can you be certain?”
“It still had adhesive on it.”
The doctor pressed her lips together.
“Mother Caridad, let me examine Esperanza before we create explanations from scraps.”
“Very well.”
But when Paloma reached for the door, Mother Caridad said, “I have trusted you with the health of every woman in this convent.”
The doctor’s hand remained on the latch.
“I know.”
“I would like to continue doing so.”
Paloma turned.
There was no anger in her face. Only sadness.
“You may find,” she said softly, “that trust and complete knowledge are not always the same thing.”
Before Mother Caridad could answer, footsteps approached.
Sister Esperanza appeared with Lucía. Miguel slept in a cloth cradle against Lucía’s chest, while Tomás held her hand.
Esperanza looked from the doctor to Mother Caridad.
