The words landed hard.
Paloma’s face tightened.
“No,” she said. “Not strongly enough.”
For the first time that day, Mother Caridad saw no defense in her. Only regret.
“I told myself I was protecting Esperanza from scandal,” Paloma continued. “I told myself that if she was healthy and the children were loved, forcing an investigation might cause more harm than good. But perhaps I was also protecting myself from admitting I had lost control of something I helped begin.”
Mother Caridad looked at her for a long moment.
Then she returned to the desk.
“Regret is useful only if it changes what we do next.”
“What do you suggest?”
“We begin with what can be proven.”
She placed the letter from Elena beside the anonymous note.
“Is Elena alive?”
“I believe so.”
“Where?”
“The last address I had was in San Aurelio.”
“That is four hours away.”
“Yes.”
“Does she know about Tomás and Miguel?”
Paloma hesitated.
“I do not know.”
“You have said those words too many times today.”
“They are still the truth.”
Mother Caridad looked through the office window.
In the garden, Esperanza sat beneath the old fig tree with Miguel in her arms. Lucía crouched beside Tomás, helping him arrange pebbles in a row.
A family had formed inside the convent, though no one had planned it.
Whatever biology revealed, these bonds were not temporary.
“We will contact Elena,” Mother Caridad said.
“And Father Esteban?”
