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After walking through her usual weaknesses, this time involving Presentación’s idiocy (pride), Isabela’s beauty (envy), and remaining hard feelings about that skirt Antonio’s coatis shredded (wrath), Mirabel swallowed.
“And I have had impure thoughts about…” Oh God, she still couldn’t say it, despite knowing since before she really understood what sins were that Padre Flores wouldn’t speak a word of what he heard.
“My child, whoever it was, you can be forgiven. But you must confess it.”
“I’ve had impure thoughts about my uncle.”
“Have you entertained them?”
“Aren’t you going to ask which one?”
His answering sigh was enough.