“Cursed?” Carissa’s voice squeaked, as if the hinges of her tongue were rusty.
“Yes, my dear.” Her eyes fixed on Carissa. “As are you.”
Carissa leaned back to better see the woman before her, who knew more than she’d first appeared to. “This, I know. But how do you know?”
The woman’s lips met in a sad, fond smile. “Because you’re her daughter.”
Incredulous laughter spilled from her lips. “Her daughter? So the curse is passed on through blood?”
The nun nodded.
Carissa opened her mouth to contradict her, only to close it. Her mother had said something in the heat of their argument: Then I could have died at least thinking my daughter truly loved me, that the girl I took into my family would never abandon me. Could Carissa’s mother have adopted her? “What happened to Marissa? Why didn’t she raise me?”
“The curse… it overwhelmed her. And she died.” Her lower lid shimmered with unshed tears.