The Spanish Daughter(41)

If my mother saw Elisa she would take the doll from me and I so wanted to keep it.

“No! It’s not her!”

As my mother twisted the door open, Elisa dashed toward the window and hid behind the curtain.

My mother was carrying a candle in one hand and her rosary in the other. She paced the room, examining every corner. It was a miracle that she didn’t see Elisa behind the flowing curtain. It was an especially bright night. The moon was so wide outside my window I might be able to touch it.

“Where is she?” my mother said.

“Who?”

“I heard a voice!”

“I was talking to myself!”

“Don’t take me for a fool, Catalina, I clearly heard two female voices.”

I didn’t know if it was the rosary in her hand, my prayers to the Virgin, or the bright light outside my window, but before I knew it, I came up with the perfect answer.

“It was the Virgin Mary.”

I thought my mother would start laughing, but she didn’t. “Are you lying to me, Catalina?”

I shook my head, glancing at the flash of red under my bed—the doll’s skirt.

“Don’t joke about this, Catalina.”

I avoided her eyes. “I’m not. It was truly her.”

She looked around the room. “Where is she?”

“She disappeared as soon as you knocked.”

“You know that lying about this is a mortal sin.”

I swallowed hard, unable to produce another word.

“But the Virgin is well known to show herself to the most innocent,” my mother said in a whisper. “If what you’re telling me is true, Catalina, then this is a miracle.”

I nodded. I would confess the truth later, but I was so afraid that she would see Elisa or the doll that I would’ve said anything to make her leave the room.

As if waking, my mother made the sign of the cross. “?Cristo Bendito! The Holy Mother here?” She groped me by the shoulders. “Are you sure? What did she say?”

I shrugged.

“She must have said something. She always presents herself with a message.”

“She said to love one another,” I guessed.

My mother fell to her knees, weeping. After a moment—as long as a full day and night—my mother stood up, almost violently.

“I must tell your father. I must tell Padre Elodio. The Church must learn about this! Everybody must.”

“No!” I grabbed her by the sleeve. “I mean, I don’t know if the Virgin would like that.”

“Dear child, why else would she have made an appearance if it wasn’t to transmit a message to all the children of God?”

She caressed my chin. “You wait here, in case she appears again.”

She dashed out of the room, leaving me all alone with Elisa.

The girl shoved the curtain aside, a wide smile on her face. “The Virgin?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else.” I glanced at the open door. “You’d better leave before they come back. What was your condition for me to keep the doll?”

Elisa climbed onto the window ledge.

“Make sure you show it to your father.”

After she jumped down, the curtain flowed with the wind after her.





CHAPTER 21

Puri

April 1920



There had to be a more dignified way to find my potential assassin than this. From under Angélica’s bed, I could see two pairs of men’s legs approaching. I hoped the flower quilt on the bed would cover me completely. The men were laughing about something said downstairs, but I couldn’t understand what. They were speaking in French way too fast. One of them was Laurent.

Come on, Laurent, grab whatever it is that you came for and get out already. But the men were in no hurry. They kept talking and laughing. Ramona screeched and her wings flapped.

“Tais-toi!” Laurent said, slamming the cage door. And Ramona inside of it. He’d never been so rough with her in front of Angélica.

The men turned suddenly quiet, their feet in close proximity to each other. Had they heard me? I held my breath.

What were they doing? Didn’t they have a bingo game to go to? Sweat peppered my back and armpits. If I stretched out my arm, I could touch their shoes—that was how close they stood from me. I remembered to breathe, hoping they couldn’t hear me. What was taking so long? I glanced at their feet again.

There was something strange about the way they were standing. They were facing each other. If they’d been a man and a woman, I would’ve sworn they were kissing, close as they were. What else could they be doing? But no, they wouldn’t, would they?

One of them was probably helping the other with his tie or something like that. My mother used to say I had an overactive imagination. There was probably a reasonable explanation for this. Laurent wasn’t that kind of man. He was married to Angélica and he was very flirtatious.

Wait.

He was flirtatious with me, someone he thought to be a man.

And besides, if one of them was fixing the other one’s tie, he would’ve been done already, or they could’ve continued talking. Was I imagining kissing sounds?

After what seemed like hours under the bed, one of the men took a step back.