Chapter 4 - THE PACKAGE FROM HER MOTHER
Calling diocesan officials was the decision I had avoided after Lucía’s second pregnancy.
This time I did not hesitate.
I contacted the diocesan victim-assistance coordinator and our legal counsel, described the sedative, the puncture mark, the undocumented medical supplies, and the delivery records.
They told me to preserve everything and stop confronting anyone alone.
Then I called Carmen.
She lived forty minutes away in Reading and had spent years blaming Santa Clara for taking Lucía from her.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Is something wrong with the babies?”
“Why would you ask that first?”
A pause.
“Because Lucía never calls unless something’s wrong.”
“Did you sign for a package from Keystone Reproductive Storage six weeks ago?”
Silence.
Then, “I sign for things when I visit.”
“What was inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“You signed your name.”
“So?”
“It was addressed to Beatriz.”
Her voice sharpened.
“If you’re accusing me of something, Teresa, say it.”
“I’m asking you what you brought into my convent.”
“It isn’t your convent.”
That sounded like Carmen.
What came next did not.
“You’ve controlled enough of Lucía’s life already.”
I almost laughed from disbelief.
“She has been drugged.”
Carmen stopped breathing loudly into the phone.
Then she said, “You don’t know that.”
“We have a blood test.”
She hung up.
Twenty minutes later, Beatriz entered my office without knocking.
“You called Carmen.”
“Yes.”
“You had no right.”
“Lucía is pregnant again after being sedated without her knowledge. I have every right to ask questions.”
Beatriz shut the door behind her.
“You think everything began with the second pregnancy.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“What does that mean?”
She looked toward the corridor.
“It means you don’t know Lucía as well as you think.”
“Then tell me.”
Beatriz sat down.
For the first time in twelve years, she looked older than I did.
“Carmen sent the packages.”
“What was in them?”
Beatriz’s eyes filled but she did not cry.
“Something Lucía once wanted.”
“Once?”
She looked directly at me.
“You need to ask her what happened before Mateo.”
A sound came from the doorway.
May you like
Lucía stood there holding the frame with one hand.
Her face had gone white.
