“I wanted to make sure you were well,” Paloma said.
She opened the infirmary door.
“Shall we?”
The examination was gentle and brief.
Doctor Paloma asked Esperanza a series of questions, took her pulse, and carefully pressed her abdomen. She then opened a small leather pouch and prepared a test.
Mother Caridad stood by the window.
Sister Lucía waited outside with the children.
Esperanza sat on the edge of the narrow bed, watching the doctor’s hands.
“You seem tired,” Paloma said.
“I have two little ones.”
“That would explain much of it.”
“Will there be a third?”
“We will know soon.”
Esperanza looked at her.
“You already know.”
Paloma paused.
“What makes you say that?”
“The way you looked when you entered.”
“That is not a medical sign.”
“No. It is a human one.”
The doctor placed the test aside and met her gaze.
“You have become more observant.”
“I have had reason to.”
Mother Caridad turned from the window.
“Esperanza, is there something you wish to tell us?”
The young nun folded her hands.
“I remember pieces of things.”
Doctor Paloma went still.
“What things?”
“A room. A light. Sometimes a voice. I think it may be yours.”
The doctor closed her case halfway, then opened it again.
“Memories can become confused during periods of illness.”
“Was I ill?”
“You have fainted more than once.”
“Before my first pregnancy?”
Paloma did not respond.
Mother Caridad stepped closer.
“Doctor?”
Paloma glanced at the test.
“It is positive.”
The room became very quiet.
Esperanza lowered her eyes.
Although she had expected the answer, hearing it confirmed seemed to remove something from her strength. Her shoulders fell slightly.
Mother Caridad moved toward her.
“Are you unwell?”
“No.”
Esperanza’s voice trembled.
“I am only tired of being surprised by my own life.”
Mother Caridad sat beside her and took her hand.
For a moment, the mystery disappeared behind something simpler: a young woman who had carried more uncertainty than anyone should have been asked to bear alone.
“We will find the truth,” Mother Caridad said.
Esperanza looked at her.
“Will we still call it truth if it changes what we believe about one another?”
Mother Caridad tightened her hand around hers.
