DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

After that morning, it was easy to think that Valeria had vanished just as quickly as she had arrived. Her carriage remained undisturbed and tucked out of sight. One occasionally saw her assistants roaming the streets, still cloaked in black despite the growing heat, but their mistress was nowhere to be seen or heard from. Maria said nothing more of her presence after that first day, and even Ofelia seemed to be slightly less on edge.

And so, like a fool, Manolo thought the whole affair could be safely forgotten.

He had been up in the studio looking for some misplaced sheet music all morning, while Maria had been out running errands. He had heard the front door open and close around midday, but his wife did not appear. When he went downstairs, he found the parlor empty.

"Maria?" he called out.

"I'm in the dining room!"

He followed her voice through the archway and stopped at the threshold of the room. "Have you seen the notes I made for that…" He trailed off, the words freezing in his throat as he realized exactly what he was looking at.

Maria and Valeria were sitting next to each other at the table, some partially filled teacups and small, empty plates in front of them. The older woman was still dressed in her long, dark dress with the crucifix hanging from her neck and looked just as dour as when Manolo had first seen her. She eyed him with a sharp, almost accusatory gaze as though wondering what he was doing in his own house.

"…the notes I made for that new piece?" he managed to finish.

Maria smiled at him, paying no heed to her visitor's behavior. "I think you stuck them in that Eliot book."

"Ah, gracias." He started to back away, carefully keeping his eyes off Valeria.

"Are you okay?"

"I just didn't realize you were busy, that's all."

"Oh, we were just talking," Maria answered quickly. "I just ran into her at the market and she said she could spare an hour or two."

"I'll leave you to it, then - "

"Why don't you come sit with us?" she said, beckoning to him. "We've still got some tea left."

"I don't want to intrude."

"You won't," Valeria said. "I think you would find our discussion rather interesting."

He did to an extent, in spite of his nervousness. The two women talked for another half hour about their time at the convent: the numerous scrapes and school-wide uproars Maria had caused. Logically, his wife admitted, she should have been expelled at least twenty times in the first year alone. Valeria was the only nun who had seen anything in her worth paying attention to. The one who had taken charge of the lonely girl, allowed her letters from home to come through, presented her with books and lessons a lady's education would never include, offered her a patient ear during sleepless nights.

"People would call her my shadow during the last few years," the old woman said, almost smiling at the memory. "She hardly left my side when the influenza came. Most of the sisters wouldn't dare go near the sick girls. How many did we treat, my dear? Thirty?"

Maria's smile slowly faded, and she hung her head as she nodded. "Yes. Treated."

Manolo remembered now. The tear-soaked letters with handwriting too shaky to read, and the pictures suddenly absent of the yellow-haired, brown-eyed girl who had been at Maria's side since the beginning. He still couldn't imagine the pain even if he tried.

Maria forced herself to chuckle, as though trying to clear the air. "That was when you started saying I should take the vows," she said. "And just look at me now. Married with a girl. Traitorous."

Valeria set down her teacup. "How long have you been together, if I may ask?"

"Ten years last November," Manolo answered.

She raised her eyebrows. "Just after Maria returned."

They both smiled sheepishly. "It's a long story."

"And how old is the girl?"

"Ofelia's nine," said Maria.

"She came early on, then?"

"Surprised us like she always does."

Valeria made a sound in the back of her throat, something that spoke vaguely of intrigue and disapproval. "She's an odd child. It's all very odd. Unfortunate."

"Funny, I've never noticed," Manolo said, not as harshly as he had meant to. It was still enough to earn a look from Maria.

A knock on the front door pulled them all out of the moment. "Excuse me for a moment," Maria said, standing up. "I won't be long." She quickly left the dining room, leaving Manolo and Valeria alone.

Manolo stared down at the tablecloth as he lightly drummed his fingers on the surface. "There's nothing strange about our girl," he said quietly. "She's just shy sometimes. If you got to know her - "

"You said you were a Sanchez, did you not?" Valeria suddenly asked. "One of the old families from this region. Bullfighters by trade."

He stopped and stared at her, surprised and annoyed, but continued nevertheless. "My ancestors' trade, at least."

"I have heard much of them in my travels. And some of you."

"Nothing very interesting, I assume."

"Assumptions rarely prove useful." Valeria slowly removed the crucifix from her neck as she leaned closer to him. "Are you a religious man, señor?"

"What?"

"Do you follow the word of God? Fear the Devil and his forces?"

He blinked several times. "I…I like to think that I do."

She held out the crucifix. "I want you to touch this."

"Why should I?" he demanded, glaring at her.

"Only for a second."

Reaching out, Manolo tapped the cold metal with a finger and quickly withdrew. "Is that good enough for you?"

"Hold it."

"No."

"Hold it."

"Maria!" he shouted.

Valeria moved away from him and deftly put the crucifix back on as the younger woman hurried back into the room. "What's wrong?" Maria asked, looking between them.

Manolo began to speak, but Valeria was quicker. "Nothing," she said. "Nothing at all."

Maria glanced at her husband with a raised eyebrow. "Really?"

"…Yes." He stood up, not taking his eyes off Valeria. "Lo siento."

"Where are you going?" Maria asked as he started to walk away.

"I just remembered something I had to do."

Slipping out the door, he began to walk up the hill towards the church. Hopefully Father Domingo would be there. And have time to answer plenty of questions.