“Build wide?”
“Exactly.”
Esperanza watched as he began again, this time placing two slices side by side.
Lucía lowered her voice.
“You are doing the same.”
Esperanza looked at her.
“Building wide?”
“Trying to.”
Miguel reached for the spoon, impatient with the pause in his meal.
Lucía laughed and gave it to him.
“You see? He believes he should manage his own breakfast.”
“He believes he should manage everything,” Esperanza said.
For a few minutes, the room felt normal.
That normality helped.
It reminded Esperanza that the journey ahead was not a departure from her life. It was part of caring for the life she already had.
“When I return,” she said, “I may know who they are connected to by blood.”
Lucía glanced at the children.
“They will still be connected to you by every morning, every fever, every song, every night you walked the floor with them.”
“But if Elena is their biological mother—”
“Then that truth will matter.”
Esperanza waited.
Lucía met her eyes.
“But it will not erase the other truth.”
Tomás held up a wider bread tower.
“Look!”
Esperanza smiled.
“That one is strong.”
He beamed.
Lucía reached across the table and squeezed Esperanza’s wrist.
“So are you.”
Doctor Paloma arrived just after evening prayers.
She found Mother Caridad in the office preparing travel papers.
“You are certain about tomorrow?” the doctor asked.
Mother Caridad did not look up from the envelope she was sealing.
“No.”
Paloma removed her gloves.
“But you are going.”
“Yes.”
The doctor sat in the chair beside the desk.
“I telephoned the clinic listed on the appointment card.”
Mother Caridad’s hand stopped.
“And?”
“They confirmed that a patient named Ana Valdés attended an appointment seven weeks ago.”
“Esperanza?”
“They would not provide details without written permission.”
“That is proper.”
“Yes.”
“Did they describe the patient?”
“No. But they gave me the name of the physician.”
Mother Caridad waited.
“Doctor Mateo Serrano.”
She recognized the surname.
“Do you know him?”
