“He said something else.”
Mother Caridad took it.
The note contained a sentence Paloma had written during the telephone call.
Elena Valdés has spent the last three years trying to prevent another pregnancy.
Mother Caridad read it twice.
“That does not fit what we assumed.”
“No.”
“Did he explain?”
“He said the explanation belonged to Elena.”
“Convenient.”
“Perhaps. But he did not sound evasive.”
Mother Caridad folded the note.
“How did he sound?”
“Tired.”
The answer unsettled her more than defensiveness would have.
A dishonest person might be frightened, angry, or careful.
A tired person was often someone who had been carrying the truth too long.
They left at sunrise.
Sister Lucía stood at the convent gate with Miguel in her arms and Tomás beside her. The boy had insisted on giving Esperanza a small cloth pouch filled with smooth stones from the garden.
“For the road,” he explained.
