We all walk to the nave together so Sister Lucia can explain to Ella its importance to the orphanage. Gabby García stands yawning in the back of the group, and I turn to look at her. Just beyond Gabby, framed in one of the clear panes of the stained glass window at the far wall, a dark figure stands outside looking in. I can just make him out in the oncoming nightfall, his black hair, heavy brows, and thick mustache. His eyes are trained on me; there’s no doubt about it. My heart skips a beat. I gasp and take a step backwards. Everyone’s head snaps around.

“Marina, are you okay?” Sister Lucia asks.

“Nothing,” I say, then shake my head. “I mean, yes, I’m fine. Sorry.”

My heart pounds and my hands shake. I clasp them together so it’s not noticeable. Sister Lucia says something else about welcoming Ella, but I’m too distracted to hear it. I turn back to the window. The figure is gone. The group’s dismissed.

I rush across the nave and look outside. I don’t see anyone, but I do see a single set of boot prints in the snow. I step away from the window. Perhaps it’s a potential foster parent assessing the girls from afar, or perhaps it’s one of the girl’s real parents sneaking a glance at the daughter he can’t provide for. But for some reason I don’t feel safe. I don’t like the way his eyes settled on me.

“Are you okay?” I hear behind me. I jump, then turn around. It’s Adelina, standing with her hands clasped in front of her waist. A rosary dangles from her fingers.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I say.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Worse than a ghost, I think, but I don’t say that. I’m scared after this morning’s slap, and I pocket my hands.

“There was somebody at the window watching me,” I whisper. “Just now.”

Her eyes squint.

“Look. Look at the prints,” I say, turning back and motioning to the ground.

Adelina’s back is straight and rigid, and for a moment I think she’s actually concerned; but then she softens and steps forward. She takes in the prints.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she says.

“What do you mean it’s nothing? How can you say that?”

“I wouldn’t worry. It could have been anyone.”

“He was looking right at me.”