Godmother
Chapter Eight
…..
The Madrigals were paralysed, hovering around the courtyard waiting on Luisa's return. They didn't even speak to each other, too busy with their individual thoughts. They were hopeful, but also partly convinced this was a sick joke being played on them. The younger Madrigals, the one who had seen Mirabel drop from the cliff into a roaring inferno, couldn't bring themselves to believe she had survived, it was impossible, and yet...
The older Madrigals were lost in a memory, of someone coming to their door to tell them they had found their missing child, and Julieta's reaction...it was too much like that day to sit easy with them.
Dolores stood sentry at the front door, listening for Luisa's footsteps over the clamour of the village waking up and starting work. Not for the first time, she cursed her gift's short range.
"Do you hear anything yet?" Isabela whispered to her, keeping a watchful eye on her parents.
"No, nothing," Dolores whispered back. "That kid did say they were down by the river..."
Julieta was staring, blank-faced, at a spot on the floor, twisting her skirt in her clenched hands. Agustin milled around nearby, looking like he wanted to say something to her but unable to find the right words. If this was someone's idea of a joke, Isabela would rip them to pieces with her bare hands. False hope had the potential to destroy her parents completely.
"Okay, I hear her coming back," Dolores whispered. "She's not saying anything, she's running...the villagers are making a fuss..."
Isabela's heart skipped. That had to be good, right? Luisa wouldn't be running if it wasn't good news...
"That's her voice!" Dolores suddenly announced to the household. "Oh god, it really is her!"
There was a moment of stunned silence. Julieta was the first one to break, crossing the courtyard in a single breath and throwing open the door, Agustin following close behind. They all spilled out onto the lawn, catching sight of Luisa thundering towards the Casíta with a bundle in her arms. She was shouting something, but nobody was listening.
It was Mirabel. Smaller, thinner, clearly injured and exhausted but very much alive. Luisa was cradling her like a child and Mirabel hung limp in her arms like she had no strength left in her. Even so, she managed to raise a frail hand when she saw Casíta and wave to her family.
When Julieta reached her, she pulled her out of Luisa's arms into her own and let out a sound that could only be described as primal, somewhere between a sob and a scream.
"My baby, my baby..." the rest of the family heard her call over and over, clinging to her daughter as if she was afraid to let go of her ever again.
Many tears were shed; hysterical ones on the part of the Madrigals, overwhelming joy that Mirabel was alive and pain for the weakened state she was in. Many of the villagers had gathered a short distance away, and they were delighted and relieved for the Madrigals, enough to shed some tears of their own.
Luisa caught Mirabel under the arms and lifted her slightly so she could be hugged and kissed and fawned over by her family without being crushed. She hung gratefully in the embrace, too tired to do much but let herself be held.
"Bring the poor girl inside," Alma scolded at last, wiping away her own happy tears. "Let her rest."
The wave of frenzy passed and became something more gentle, she was ushered into the Casíta carefully, supported by everyone's hands. The older Madrigals didn't miss how her leg dragged behind her. The old kitchen rocking chair was cleared, a blanket was wrapped around her and Julieta picked up her apron for the first time in what seemed like forever.
"I can make you some arepas," Julieta babbled, her emotions overflowing. "Or I could probably put some pandebono together...I'm sorry, I haven't been in here for so long, we don't have anything ready...maybe some coconut rice? What would you like, hijita?"
"I really don't mind," Mirabel said quietly, sinking into the chair under the blanket. "Whatever you feel like making."
Her voice was croaky and weak, the family winced to hear it.
"Coffee first then," Julieta offered, filling a small saucepan with water. "We'll fix you right up..."
"Wait," Mirabel mumbled. "I can't have anything yet...there's a bullet stuck in my leg."
Julieta's heart sank, and the rest of the family exchanged unhappy glances. A little factor that Julieta had learned over many years was that her gift sometimes worked too well, and healed torn muscle and skin over a foreign object that should have been removed. More than one person had come back to her a few days after being healed with a raging infection.
"Well, we'll just have to take care of that first," Julieta said, plastering a reassuring smile on for Mirabel. "Isa, could you go get my tweezers?"
Alma herded everyone out of the kitchen as Julieta went to work on the injury, but they hovered around outside the kitchen door, fretting. Agustin sat on one side of Mirabel, letting her squeeze his hand while Julieta dug through the wound, looking for the bullet.
"You didn't say she got shot twice," Pepa muttered, the cloud over her head switching between a light rain and a trickle of sunlight. "Bastards..."
"I didn't see her get hit directly," Camilo responded. "I just saw her fall over, we were pretty far away."
"If it makes you feel better, Mariano didn't have to pay Los Calaveras for botching the job so badly," Dolores joked.
"Why would that make me feel better?" Pepa growled, accompanied by a tiny streak of lightning. "Aye, what kind of man would point a gun at her?"
"Should I give her back her glasses now, Mama?" Antonio piped up from under Felix's arm. Felix was trying not to let him see the makeshift surgery but he kept slipping out to go to the door.
"Best not, Tonito," Alma told him. "We need to get them repaired, the glass is broken...it could cut her face."
Solemnly, Antonio nodded and put the glasses back in his pocket.
In the kitchen, Mirabel stifled a yelp of pain as the tweezers probed deeper. They had the bullet, but pulling it out was proving more difficult than finding it in the first place. Every time a nerve was hit, a wave of agony washed over her entire body. So strange to think that she hadn't felt a thing when she was with...
Don't think about it. Not now.
"I'm nearly finished, sweetheart," Julieta said soothingly. "That's my brave girl..."
"Is it better or worse that they weren't even aiming at me?" she grumbled.
"I'm just glad it was your leg and not your head," Agustin grumbled back, stroking her forehead as she lay against his chest.
At last, the metal slug was wrestled free, and Julieta dropped it with an air of disgusted finality into a bowl of hot water.
"What about the other wound, Mira?"
"No, the bullet went straight through that one."
There were four arepas on the grill and Julieta gratefully attended to them, serving them up with a flourish. Another layer to the joy in the household was that she was finally back in her natural element, cooking for her loved ones. Mirabel bit into them ferociously, as if she hadn't eaten in days (for all they knew, she hadn't).
"Is there anything else you want, hijita?" Agustin asked. "I think there's some obleas in the back..."
"I just want a hot bath and some sleep," Mirabel admitted through mouthfuls of cornmeal.
Being under the watchful eye of her entire family was already exhausting. She had never been under such scrutiny before, it felt like they were counting her breaths and swallows. She could barely see any of them, but she felt their eyes on her.
The gaze intensified when she began to gag on the last mouthful, and a fretful Julieta managed to push a basin underneath her just before everything in her stomach came back up, burning like acid. She could feel the family go still and silent.
"All that cheese, too hard on your stomach," Julieta muttered. "I should have known that...I'm sorry, I'll make something more plain, okay? Some coconut rice?"
Mirabel could not see it, and the rest of the Madrigals were not looking, but Alma's back had gone ramrod straight, every muscle tense, a look of barely concealed horror on her face. She remembered this. This was what followed the first shock, from before. Food rejection, followed by...
Don't. It's the cheese, that's all it is.
She told herself, but she didn't believe it.
…..
"This is interesting," Isabela said, holding up the tattered white gown, examining the embroidery. "You could probably fix it up..."
"I'd rather burn it," Mirabel groaned, sinking into the hot water.
Isabela had run the bath for her and helped her into it, and she lingered in the bathroom in case Mirabel needed help. She had filled the tub with orchid and plumeria petals so thick that Mirabel disappeared into them.
"Too bad, it was probably really pretty," she said, dropping the dress. "How does your leg feel?"
"It stings a bit," Mirabel admitted. "But it's not too bad now. Did you really see me get shot?"
"Camilo did, he had the binoculars. I was trying to get that stupid tree root to grow."
"I had no idea you were all there."
"How would you? You were blind!" Isabela chuckled, a little of her good humour returning. "If it wasn't for the fire we could have made it..."
"I'm glad you didn't," Mirabel admitted. "They were dangerous men, it was too much of a risk to take."
"Dangerous or not, you're my baby sister," Isabela told her. "You really think we would have just left you there? Without even trying to save you?"
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Though they were on good terms now, there was a time not so long ago that Mirabel would have answered that question without thinking.
Yes, you would have left me there. Maybe not everyone else, but Isabela would have.
"Watching you drop into that fire was the worst experience of my life," Isabela told her, past the lump forming in her throat. "The second worst was having to come back here and tell Mom and Dad what happened."
"It was either that or marry El Verraco," Mirabel replied. "It seemed like the better option."
"I'm sure it did," Isabela sighed. "And I might have done the same thing...but I can't begin to tell you how thankful I am that you survived. You're the glue that holds this family together. It all falls apart without you. Especially Mom."
Mirabel said nothing. Isabela could only see her head bobbing in the water, her face hidden behind a cluster of petals.
"Listen, there's no easy way to ask this..." she began, bracing herself for an answer she wouldn't like. "That man...did he hurt you? I mean, did he..."
"No."
The relief made Isabela feel weak.
"He said he wasn't an animal that takes a child into his bed," Mirabel continued. "He wanted to wait until I was the right age."
"A monster with principles," Isabela muttered, feeling a little sick.
"One of his henchmen tried, though."
Mirabel said it so bluntly, like she was talking about what she had for dinner. Isabela swallowed, hard.
"Tried what, exactly?" she asked, dreading the answer.
"Snuck into my room in the middle of the night, forced himself on me," Mirabel continued. "He was drunk...and I think he thought he was helping me, sort of. Don't worry, he gave up pretty fast. He was the guy who broke into my room and took me away."
After the party, before she went missing,Isabela had been excited that a handsome man was flirting with Mirabel. She had been watching and smiling at her sister's potential rapist. A cold trickle of horror ran down her spine.
"My virtue is intact," Mirabel mumbled, closing her eyes. "Abuela will be glad to know."
"Nobody cares about that," Isabela told her. "All we want to know is that they didn't hurt you. Any more than they did already, anyway..."
"I'd like to get out now, please."
Maybe it was the exhaustion or the pain or the fact that she hadn't been able to keep her food down, but Mirabel seemed worryingly subdued. Isabela helped her out of the tub, dried her off and dressed her in her oldest, softest nightgown. Maybe after some sleep, she'd have a spark of her old self back.
But when they got to the door of the nursery, Mirabel froze. She clung to Isabela's shoulder, looking over the room, the familiar bed, the window that hadn't been repaired, only cleaned up...her heart was beating so forcefully that Isabela could feel her pulse through her arms.
"Okay, this was a bad idea," she muttered. "You can sleep in my room for now, I can bunk with Dolores for a bit...actually, I can move a bed in there so you don't have to be alone, would you prefer that? Or I could..."
Mirabel took a deep breath.
"No, this is my room," she said, more to herself than to Isabela. "I want things to be normal. I'll get used to it."
It hadn't really struck Isabela how claustrophobic the nursery was until now, even rebuilt after Casíta's collapse hadn't improved it. It was fine when they were children, but the ceiling seemed so low compared to her own room, the floorboards rough, the furniture mismatched and scratched to pieces. The shutters on the window hanging on one hinge, proof of what had been stolen from them. Isabela didn't want to stay there, never mind Mirabel. Even so, she got her settled under the covers like she wanted.
"I lost my quilt," Mirabel mumbled, already half-asleep.
"We can make you a new one," Isabela told her.
"How? You can't sew, you'll bleed all over it."
There it was, a little of the old spark. Isabela laughed, kicked the bed gently.
"You cheeky little brat," she said, settling on the floor. "I'll sew it and you'll like it, whether you like it or not."
"Are you staying? You don't have to..."
"Just until you fall asleep, okay?"
Some of the tension dropped out of Mirabel's face when she heard that. Within a minute, she was fast asleep. Isabela lingered in the nursery for hours, until Luisa came to replace her.
…..
In the morning, it was Pepa, trailed by Felix.
"...and then she says she's trying to grow her own avocados and they need more water, but I told her I can't just turn it on and off like that, it doesn't work like that, and why she wants to grow avocados herself when she knows that Rosita's been growing avocados since we were all..."
"...and tomatoes, don't forget the tomatoes, amore...
"...yes, I know, but anyway Rosita's been growing the whole village's supplies of..."
In the afternoon, Dolores took up her seat.
"...this friend of Mariano's, he was the one that brokered the deal and now it's gone sour so he's looking to get out of the country altogether, Mariano says he wants to go to California, but if he really wants to get away he should go somewhere in Europe, right? It makes no sense to just..."
In the late afternoon, after Mirabel ate and then threw up a bowl of coconut rice and two cups of coffee, Luisa paced around the nursery.
"...he's got this new donkey, but he swears it's a mule, and I took one look at it and I said, 'that's a donkey with short ears' and he doesn't believe me, like I don't know the difference between a donkey and a mule? And I ask him how much he paid for this 'mule', and get this..."
Antonio showed up shortly before dinnertime, along with his jaguar friend, a tamarin and a cluster of poison-dart frogs.
"...Luisa says he's a donkey but I asked him and he says he's a mule, and he should know because his mommy was a real racehorse, he says her name is Balada and she has a whole room of ribbons and trophies but his daddy was a donkey and they met on a ferry..."
Julieta played it safe with a plate of pan de yuca and a glass of water for dinner. It didn't matter, Mirabel couldn't keep it down anyway. She was still queasy when Camilo dropped by for his visit.
"...so he tells me that Anamaria has gone off to some fancy boarding school and Pedro has been just moping around, like actually crying, it's really sad, you know? So he wants me to turn into Anamaria just to cheer him up, and I figure, what the hell? Why not? And Pedro's not an idiot, you'd think he would know that she wouldn't come all the way back just for..."
Mirabel was never alone, even when she slept. It seemed like her family had saved up every little piece of gossip and funny anecdote just to be able to sit with her for a while. It was flattering, but exhausting. And her inability to eat meant that her wounds weren't healed, and she was stuck in bed recovering the old-fashioned way.
Julieta was worried, and trying to hide it. She muttered under her breath about bringing in the doctor from another village, but she kept on hoping that Mirabel would be able to eat something eventually. Her cheeks were gaunt and she was swallowed up by her blankets, but she didn't seem to feel any hunger.
Bruno usually showed up at night, rats poking in and out of his pockets.
"...this woman, she's hysterical because she knows about the whole fish thing, right? And I told her, if she's really that worried then she needs to build a bigger pen for her pigs, but she keeps insisting she needs a prophecy, so I do it and it's bad news for the prize hog and she starts freaking out on me but how is that my fault when I..."
Isabela, Julieta and Agustin were in and out of the nursery all day. Antonio's jaguar was set as a guard by the window, Antonio insisting that he would keep her safe. Only one member of the family was conspicuously absent.
"Don't start with me," Julieta hissed at her mother late at night in hushed tones, but not so hushed that Dolores didn't pick up on it.
"I'm worried for you, Julieta," Alma insisted. "This is how it started last time, don't you remember...?"
"Of course I remember," Julieta snapped, throwing bowls and plates into the sink. "Don't you remember that we got past it? She did eat eventually, we just had to keep trying..."
"And what about what followed? The screaming, the running away, she was a demon..."
"Stop it! Don't you dare say that word, she was a child!"
"She was then, she's nearly fully grown now! If she's anything like what she was..."
"As I recall, Mama, you were the one that insisted I had gone loco."
"I didn't know enough then. None of us did."
"I knew. I took one look at her and said 'that's not my baby' and you told me I was mad."
"Julieta, things were different then. We know more now. Have you taken a look at her feet? She walked all the way back here, barefoot and blind, and she doesn't have a mark to show for it?"
Dolores paused in her eavesdropping. It was true, aside from her gunshot wounds Mirabel didn't have a single scratch or cut after being lost in the wilderness for days.
"That's not my baby!"
If she thought back really hard, she could remember those words. She could vaguely remember seeing a tiny child reach out for her Tía Julieta, and Julieta shrinking away from her. She had a hazy recollection of crying into her own mother's arms, asking why Tía Julieta didn't love her baby anymore.
In the early hours of the morning, plagued by troubling thoughts, Dolores crept into Mirabel's room. Buried under the covers, only Mirabel's head was visible. In the low lamplight, Dolores peered intently at her cousin, seeking out familiar features.
She had her mother's hair. In colour, but not in pattern. It was curlier than Luisa's or Julieta's.
Was that her father's nose? Hard to tell, it looked different with her newly hollow cheeks.
Her eyes were closed, but the shape was similar to Isabela's, wasn't it? Maybe it was her glasses that made them look bigger, they looked smaller now, slightly turned in.
It was so easy to pick apart a face, to see a stranger in someone that she thought was so familiar. If she thought about it for too long, she could say that Mirabel didn't look like a Madrigal at all.
Who are you?
