“No,” the doctor said.
“And Miguel?”
“No.”
“And this time?”
“No.”
Mother Caridad frowned.
“Then why did you sound as though you expected today’s result?”
Paloma reached inside her coat and removed an envelope.
It had been opened, but the paper remained crisp.
“This arrived at my clinic two weeks ago.”
Mother Caridad took it.
Inside was a single typed sentence.
Sister Esperanza may require your care again before the summer ends.
There was no signature.
No return address.
Esperanza looked at the doctor.
“You knew before I did.”
“I suspected someone knew.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I did not want to frighten you without proof.”
Mother Caridad unfolded the paper fully.
At the bottom, almost invisible, was a faint embossed mark.
A circle surrounding three small branches.
She recognized it.
“That seal belonged to Mother Inés.”
Paloma nodded.
“It was used on private convent correspondence.”
“But Mother Inés has been dead for five years.”
