“How—” began María.
“She was an eejit. They don’t live long,” said Sor Artemesia.
And then María drew the kind of conclusion that was so typical of her and that made Matt love her. “You were trying to save her,” she said. “I understand now. You were trying to save her, and she died anyway. How awful it must have been for you!”
The generosity of this conclusion made tears come to Matt’s eyes too. He blinked, remembering Mirasol dancing and then falling limp into his arms. It hadn’t been as high-minded as María thought. “I want you to come here,” he said.
“I’m trying. I keep arguing with Mother, but she’s like a brick wall. She’s—oh, this is terrible—she’s trying to arrange a marriage for me.”
“You’re too young,” said Sor Artemesia.
“I know. It won’t be an actual marriage, more like a betrothal. Honestly!” María stamped her foot and looked, for an instant, like Esperanza in a snit. “You’d think it was the fifteenth century, with girls being given away like favors to slimy old men. It’s one of Mother’s friends on a human rights board. He’s not really old. Thirty-five or so, but he’s hopeless. He wants me to help him do good works, distribute pamphlets on dental hygiene or getting immunized against AIDS.”
Sor Artemesia stifled a snort of laughter. “Mija, isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? To emulate Saint Francis?”
María looked daggers at the nun. “Of course, but not with him. I haven’t got anybody on my side here. Please call Emilia or Dada. Maybe they can back me up.”
Both Matt and Sor Artemesia flinched. They knew the story of El Patrón’s funeral had been kept secret to protect Matt’s fragile hold on the Alacrán empire. “What should I do?” the nun mouthed silently.
Matt thought rapidly. Sooner or later the news had to come out. He was a lot more confident of his power than he had been months ago. “I’m going to tell you something that you absolutely have to keep secret,” he said, without much hope that María would.
“Aren’t Emilia and Dada there?” she said uncertainly.
“Listen to me. It’s extremely important. This involves my safety and Sor Artemesia’s, too. You must promise to say nothing to anyone, including your mother.”
“She should have told you long ago,” put in Sor Artemesia.
“Of course I’ll promise. Is Dada in prison?” said María, with a keener sense of her father’s activities than Matt thought she possessed.
“He’s—he passed away,” said Matt. “So did Emilia.” How was he going to tell her the circumstances of how it happened?
Sor Artemesia came to his rescue. In a careful, restrained tone she described El Patrón’s funeral and the old man’s final revenge on anyone who dared to outlive him. “It was quick. They didn’t suffer,” the nun said.
María looked stunned. “How long has Mother known?”
“Since the first time I saw you through the holoport,” Matt said.
“She lied to me. She let me write letters to them for months. She gave me their answers. She wrote them herself.” María was crying now, but she was also angry. “She wanted to betroth me to that mealy-mouthed creep. She said Dada was in favor of it. She lied!”
“We’re on your side,” said Matt. “I’ll tell Esperanza that I won’t cooperate with her unless she sends you here.”
“She’ll find a way around it. She always does.” María paced around the room, smacking a fist into her palm. Sor Inez came in and signaled wildly. Esperanza was on her way. “Mother’s going on a fact-finding mission to Russia next week,” María said quickly. “Contact me at the other holoport in Paradise on Tuesday afternoon. I’ll have a plan then.” She snapped off the connection before Esperanza could come in and discover what she was doing.
Sor Artemesia sat down as mist filled the screen and the Convent of Santa Clara disappeared. She was trembling. “I hate dealing with people like Esperanza,” she admitted. “What I wouldn’t give for a cottage in a quiet valley where all I had to do was garden.”
“Me too,” said Matt. “I wouldn’t grow opium there either.”
Sor Artemesia smiled weakly. “I noticed that the altar cloth I embroidered wasn’t fastened to the wall at the convent. I wonder what happened to it.”
“María sent it to me.” Matt didn’t say that it was under his pillow or that he felt for it in the middle of the night when he had trouble sleeping.