The Convent of Senhora of Jesus hospital ward smelled of cider vinegar. Light shone through the large windows onto the rows of beds and patients under pressed sheets. Pêro headed to the first bed. Paulinha situated the wicker basket in the crook of her arm and came up alongside the other side.
Pêro kneeled, placing his hand upon the ill youth. The boy’s hand was cold like the sea. Paulinha pulled from the basket a white and blue tile with a lively duck painted on it.
The boy’s eyes lit up at the playful image.
“Take it, son. It’s yours to keep,” Pêro said.
The boy smiled, accepting the gift. He held it up. “It’s wonderful and reminds me of home.” He propped the tile upon his chest and beamed at it, a little color returning to his pale cheeks.
“May the Lord continue to aid you in your
