This chapter contains a reference to a headcanon by Tumblr user holyfudgincrackpots. The first of many references, in fact.
DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.
Manolo could hardly believe it had only been a year.
A year since the worst and best day of his life. When he had died and lived again, discovered worlds he had never imagined, overcome the fear that had plagued him, welcomed his true love into his family.
When he had lost the only two members of that family he'd ever known.
He held his breath as he walked, hoping the light of the candles illuminating the graveyard didn't reflect off the tears he was trying to hold back. Maria walked at his side, Ofelia sleeping in her arms. His guitar was slung over his back, and he was carrying a small basket of marigolds and pan de muerto. Nestled beside them were a new set of knitting needles and the roses his mother had always loved tending to. A picture of his father was tucked inside as well, drawn and colored by Maria just for this occasion. He couldn't quite look at it yet.
Carlos and Carmen's grave was near a corner of the graveyard,its carved heart silhouetted against the rising moon. The candles were lit, the flowers and the bread set down and the gifts following. The work was quick, and it was quiet.
Manolo placed the picture of Carlos next to Carmen's before kneeling in front of the grave. "Mama? Papa?" he asked, his voice hardly rising above a whisper."Are you there?"
The candles flickered, as though someone was walking past them.
"You wouldn't believe the year we've had," he continued, smiling. "I hardly can. Maria's doing well. Her father's gotten used to us, I think. Joaquin got married, can you believe that? I've never seen him this happy. You'd love his wife. She's…well, it's a long story."
He paused, waiting. For what, he didn't know. He closed his eyes and tried to sense them, but felt nothing. Couldn't it be easy? Couldn't the gods be merciful and let them truly return for a few hours? Is that too much to ask?
"I haven't told you everything yet," he continued after taking a few breaths. "There's…there's someone we'd like you to meet."
Maria knelt besidehim. "This is Ofelia," she said to the grave. "Your nieta."
A small gentle breeze seemed to sweep past them, ruffling the baby's black curls. Ofelia opened her dark brown eyes and looked up. She smiled and laughed, waving her small arms in an attempt to touch the multitude of blurry blue shapes floating above her.
Carmen laughed as she let the tiny hand grab her finger. "Hola, mi querido. Isn't she lovely, Carlos?"
"She's perfect." Carlos stroked the girl's cheek, then rested an arm around his son. "And you were actually worrying about them, Papa."
"As I should be!" Luis exclaimed. "Now I owe the twins new rifles!"
Adelita and Scardelita snickered. "And you're paying up come sunrise."
"Cállate!" Carmelo snapped at all three of them. "I want to see the girl!"
Jorge peered out from behind him, leaning over Ofelia. "She'll sing," he said proudly. "I feel it in my bones!"
"You are all bones," Anita said, giving the child only a cursory glance before returning to her knitting. "She will do as she wishes."
Manolo blinked back his tears. "I wish you could hold her," he said. "You should be able to hold her…"
Carlos patted his shoulder. "You've done well, mijo."
The young man closed his eyes again, then smiled in wonder. "I can feel them. I can feel them, Maria!"
Maria smiled and took him by the hand, resting her head against his arm. The spirits knelt around them both, encircling them in a gentle embrace.
After a time, Manolo rose and took out his guitar. He played a few chords, then let them drift together into a slow, lilting song. His family sat by him, listening intently as the rest of the graveyard seemed to fade away. Only with the first rays of the sun did they all depart.
