“If she has any, I’ve never met them.” She examined me in silence as if to determine if I was trustworthy or not. “You’d best stay away from her. La Niña Catalina is considered a saint around here.”

I smiled, but Julia’s frown left no doubt that she wasn’t joking. I didn’t know if I was more amused by the fact that she thought I had a romantic interest in my sister or by the saint comment.

“A saint? Why?”

“She saw the Virgin when she was a child.”

I wasn’t sure if I perceived contempt or admiration in her tone.

“Where did she see her?” I asked, swallowing the word “allegedly.”

“She appeared in her room. She sent a message through her to all the villagers.”

“What message?”

Julia finished collecting her things. “You’ll have to ask her personally.”

Without another word, she left the room. I’d only heard of Virgin apparitions in books and legends, never in real life. I wondered what my father thought of this saintly daughter of his. Did he, like Julia, believe this to be true? Or had he been a skeptic, like me?

CHAPTER 9 - Catalina

CHAPTER 9

Catalina

Three months earlier

Angélica hadn’t spoken to me in two days. This was not uncommon; she had one of those terrible tempers, just like our father—though she would never admit to it. This time, though, I didn’t blame her for her anger. It must have been an abysmal blow to her ego to know that our father had left the majority of his assets to a sister we’d never met.

What I wasn’t expecting was to see her poking her head inside my bedroom with that charming smile of hers. Angélica hadn’t been to my room since we were little girls. Even then, I was always the one who followed her around the house.

“What is it?” I asked, ignoring my good manners.

She opened the door wider and stepped inside with Ramona on her shoulder. I was surprised not to see Laurent trailing behind Angélica like a shadow. His vocation in this world, it seemed, was to please my sister in every one of her whims.

“What? I can’t stop by to say hello?” She slithered toward my bed and sat next to me. “What are you reading?”

I flipped my copy of Fortunata y Jacinta so she couldn’t see the cover. Benito Pérez Galdós was on the Vatican’s list of forbidden authors, but I was infatuated with this story. I’d waited years to get the book. What an odyssey it had been.

“Is there anything I can do for you, hermana?” I said.