I do not own Encanto. This story is not for profit.


Chapter 30

November 7th

Evening

November 8th

Morning

Mirabel

Mirabel climbed through the window of the bedroom in the north wing on her way down from the roof, following Mariano. They exited into the hall. Mariano smiled at her a little awkwardly. "Well, good night, Mirabel."

"Good night." Mirabel paused. "For what it's worth, I'm really happy that you're courting Dolores now."

Mariano's shoulder relaxed. "Really? You were so enthusiastic about me proposing to Isabela. You couldn't even wait for me to sing the song I composed for her."

Mirabel grimaced at the fact that Mariano still hadn't figured out what had really been going on during the engagement dinner for Isabela. She forced a laugh. "Well, you know, I'm Isabela's kid sister. The idea of my sister getting engaged was exciting. I-It was the first engagement dinner in the family. For my generation. So…" She curtseyed. "Sorry. Yeah, I got hyped up, but I'm equally hyped for Dolores – if not more! Because, you know, she loves you so much."

Mariano glowed with an expression of awe. "Yeah. I had no idea she was listening. She…She hears so much. I mean, I know that was her Gift, but…The only other person who's ever heard my poetry is Mamá. Dolores said she looked forward to it every night." He flushed. "I never would have guessed. It's just…words. But she likes it."

Mirabel's head hurt at poetry being called 'just words,' but she couldn't help smiling genuinely. "Well, what you put your heart into, people care about. Ideally. I know it's not always true…but when someone finally sees you for you, it's special. See Dolores for herself, okay? That way, you see each other. And that's what love is. I think."

"No, you're right," Mariano said earnestly. "You're very wise. Thank you, Mirabel. I'll take your advice to heart." He gave her a little bow. "Good night."

"Good night." Mirabel gave him a little wave as he walked toward his bedroom, and he gave her a little wave back. I really want this to work. Dolores deserves a happy ending. She's been in Isa's shadow this whole time, even down to loving the person Abuela and Señora Guzmán wanted to marry Isabela. And Dolores helped me as much as she could without betraying Tio Bruno's wishes to stay hidden.

After a few minutes, Mirabel walked down the hall slowly toward the staircase that would lead her down into the junction of the kitchen and living room. She was in no hurry. I hope Antonio is having a good time with his Mamá. Tia Pepa's longing to spend time with Antonio had been impossible to miss. Mirabel had felt like she was intruding.

She passed by the guest bedroom where Tio Bruno and her parents were sleeping for the night. Good night, Tio. Hopefully you're already asleep. She didn't know if her Mamá was back from stargazing with Dolores. It had been almost two hours since they left for Dolores' stargazing spot. I hope Mamá isn't rude to Dolores. It must've been really hard to keep Tio Bruno's secret.

Mirabel reached the stairs and crept down carefully, mindful that her sisters and Camilo might already be asleep. The lamps in the living room weren't lit and the shutters were closed and curtains drawn, making it very dark. Mirabel assumed this was because everyone was sleeping, or trying to. She pushed her glasses on top of her head and rubbed her eyes with both hands. Ugh. I'm wide awake.

She adjusted her glasses, slipped out the front door, and sat on the step. The street was peaceful. A stray dog padded down the street between houses several doors down. The air was damp and smelled like incoming rain, but for now the sky was still clear. Mirabel looked up at the moon. The moon had been full on November 1st and now was nearly in its third quarter.

Abruptly, tears filled her eyes. I used to talk to Casita on nights like this. Casita's last act of sheltering her from Casita's own crumbling body replayed for Mirabel vividly. The warmth of the candle fading as the light sputtered and went out felt as if it happened all over again in her hands. She smelled the plaster dust and felt the devastation.

Tio Bruno, smelling like shampoo and soap, came out of the house and sat next to her on the doorstep, dropping into a similar posture. He draped an arm around her. He wore a ruana he had received for his birthday; the material was thicker, softer, more luxurious than his old one. It was also a vibrant emerald green, which currently looked almost black in the moonlight.

Mirabel took a deep breath and avoided crying, brought back to the present.

"Can't sleep?"

Mirabel shook her head.

"Me neither."

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes. Mirabel slowly rested her head on his shoulder. "Tio…do you think – do you think that Casita forgives me?"

"Absolutely."

Mirabel sighed. "Did I cause the cracking?"

"No. The cracking started before you were even born. It couldn't have been you." Bruno tightened his arm around her. "I had been trying to tell Mamá about the cracks since I was 14 years old – cracks that would appear when she became angry with me, or Pepa, or your Mamá, and then disappear as we made up. Sometimes the cracks appeared if Pepa and I fought – a particularly bad fight – and when things calmed down, the cracks were gone again."

"If you've seen them before, why didn't Mamá believe me when I said I saw the cracks?"

"Don't take it personally. She never believed me, either."

"But why? She never saw them herself?"

Bruno shrugged. "I guess not."

Mirabel frowned. "Weird. There's something I don't understand here. You saw the cracks, and I did, and no one else? Ever?"

"Dolores could hear the cracks forming, but until she stepped behind the wall, into the space where I was living, she couldn't see them. She had to step behind the wall first."

"But they were everywhere."

"I know."

Mirabel's head hurt trying to figure this out.

"When Mamá has spoken to me privately, lately, she's confided several things that I think she still isn't telling Pepi and Juli because I'm the 'man of the family' who is expected to take Papá's place." Bruno sighed. "That's who she always wanted me to be. She has always wanted me to make up for Papá dying and leaving her."

Mirabel was horrified. She straightened and stared at him. "But you were literally a baby when Abuelo died. You can't be your own father. That's not fair."

Bruno smiled at her with a deeply sad expression, and some of the dark circles under his eyes and the weight that sloped his narrow shoulders made sense to Mirabel more now, besides the weight of the Gift of prophecy. "And I never have been. I never have been enough to replace him. I heard what you said about none of us being enough, and that really struck home. Juli could never be helpful enough. Pepa could never be happy enough." He sighed. "And I…I could never be manly enough – never be confident enough. Never be wise enough. Prepared enough. Never be…Pedro enough. I'm not him. He had a rare charisma. You have to understand, he had the power to convince people to come with him, to follow him, who were absolute strangers. My Papá's idea was to flee Colombia altogether, and they were following him. They packed their bags and agreed to go if he would be their leader." His shoulders twitched. "I'm not a leader. I never have been. I've never been confident. And Mamá was driven crazy by this, as if it were a personal insult – to her and to Papá."

Mirabel had a bitter taste in her mouth. "You don't get to choose who your kids are. It's – It's not like choosing a buñuelo. 'Oh, I want the one with chocolate cream'. That's not how parenting works."

He patted the top of her hand. "You're a good kid. I really think – I really think Antonio might be the best of us, because of you. And you were so young. A 10 year old raising a baby…is nothing that anyone should have to endure."

"Mamá helped a lot, at first," Mirabel said awkwardly. "Besides, it's not like I really raised him." She rolled her eyes, trying to inject a lighter tone into this sudden conversational turn. "I just watched him. I just made friends with him. I tried to be a good roommate. That's all. I can't be his Má."

"And who do you think has been his Má? Pepa?" Bruno snorted. "Please. Don't make me laugh."

"Well, it can't be me. You said it yourself. I was ten."

"I wonder what Antonio would say about it."

Mirabel got a case of the clammy sweats. "Please. Don't. I don't want to know. What if he does…Do you think…?" She stared into Bruno's eyes.

Bruno smiled nervously. "I don't know what I think. I haven't gotten to see Antonio so much before now, you know. Anyway, I'm not sure how we ended up here. I was trying to say that Mamá tried her best to give you a Gift, so maybe she succeeded."

Mirabel scoffed, but she also relaxed at leaving behind the terrible question of who Antonio would pick between her and Pepa, his actual mother or her. She didn't want to compete with Tia Pepa. Tia Pepa terrified her. And she had no doubt that her tia would want to murder her if Antonio turned his nose up at her. "A Gift without a room? Something got messed up, at the very least."

"Right," Bruno said slowly. "Something went wrong, no doubt about that…" His expression was speculative. "But you could see the cracks. That suggests you got something from the candle, even if it wasn't standard issue."

"But, we're just guessing here, since all that magic is gone now," Mirabel said. "Even if it comes back, I have a feeling that it won't be the same again."

Bruno hugged her again. "Right. It'll have to be different. Because we're different now."

Mirabel hugged him back and then slumped. "I finally feel sleepy now. You?"

"Exhausted." He gave a little laugh.

They went into the house together and parted ways. Mirabel wrapped herself up in her blanket and pillow on the floor, and it didn't take her long to fall asleep.

She dreamed that Casita was on fire, and amidst the flames on the walls and the falling, flaming debris coming from the ceiling, she faced off against her mother in the second story hall outside the Nursery. They shouted at each other, even though everyone else in the family had run away from the burning home. Weirdly, she could smell the fire, but she couldn't feel the heat.

When Mirabel woke up, it was daylight out, Luisa and Mamá were in the kitchen chatting and moving pots and pans, and the smell of fresh coffee was in the air. She took a deep breath. Dream. Just a dream. She sat up with a groan and raked her hand through her hair. Casita was on fire again, just like the dream I had the day we started rebuilding. What does it mean?

She untangled herself from her blanket and saw Antonio still asleep nearby. She tickled him awake, stopping when he laughed and slapped her hands away. He grinned at her and gave her a tight hug. Mirabel hugged him in return, warmth rushing through her. "Good morning, hombrecito. Did you have a good time with your Mamá last night?"

"Mamá promised to spend more time with me now," Antonio said with innocent pride.

Mirabel beamed and stood, ruffling his hair. "Then you better spend all today with her. Show her that you really want her to keep her promise. I bet she would like that."

"Okay!" He ran upstairs, no doubt to wake his Mamá and Papá.

Dolores sidled up to Mirabel and whispered, "I thought you show know that your Madre asked me to recount some of the things that Abuela and Isabela said to you over the years."

"Why?" Mirabel asked. "Why now?"

Dolores squeaked and shrugged. "But she said she had a right to know, and she outranks me, so I told her. She was angry I hadn't told her before. She thought I should have volunteered." She walked into the kitchen with her usual stoic expression, ending the conversation.

Mirabel sighed. At least she warned me. I can count on Mamá to act weird today.