5: Bonds Forged in Arms Held

As newborns, each of the Madrigal grandchildren had reacted differently to being held by their Tío Bruno for the first time.

Isabela slept. The perfect image of an angelic, sleeping infant. She didn't bother opening her eyes to give anyone the time of day as she was being passed around. She knew she was the most important person in the room, and her new family would treat her with nothing less than the utmost care.

When it was Bruno's turn to hold her, he honestly didn't want to. Isabela was so tiny, so fragile, and he was afraid he would drop her or hurt her like the unlucky klutz he was. But Augustín and Julieta had insisted—every member of the family was to personally welcome the girl they would all help raise, and her tío was no exception. So Bruno carefully took the baby into his arms. She was warm, light as a feather, and her head almost fit in the palm of his hand.

Isabela murmured in her sleep as he took her, shifting slightly. Perhaps it was her greeting to him. Or maybe she was scolding him for how awkwardly he was handling her. He wouldn't be mad if that were true. One look at her face and Bruno knew he wouldn't hesitate to go jump off a bridge if she asked him to. And Isabela just went right back to sleep, fully trusting him. Bruno wanted to hold her forever, but sadly had to cut it short—his vision was starting to become clouded with tears and he had to hand Isabela back to her father before his awful luck really did catch up to him.

Dolores stared. Unlike her cousin before her, she had her eyes wide open when her family came to meet her, silently observing them all. She was curious about everyone, studying them with scrutiny, judging if they were worthy of her presence.

When it was Bruno's turn to hold her, he was almost overwhelmed by the intensity of her gaze. Her eyes were huge, dark in color but shining with curiosity and potential. Like with Isabela, Bruno was cautious when he held her. Dolores, not making a peep, frowned a little when she saw him.

Bruno couldn't help but crack a smile. "I know, I know," he whispered, so that only she could hear. "I'm a disappointment. But I hope you can still love me like I love you."

Her frown let up ever so slightly, or perhaps that was Bruno's imagination.

Luisa whimpered. It wasn't his fault—he knew that, logically. The girl had been sniffling and whimpering since the second they started passing her around. But emotionally, he couldn't help but feel like he was making it worse.

She was a bit heavier than the previous two, a bit fussier and therefore harder to hold. Bruno was still awkward about it despite being an uncle for two years now. That's probably why she was uncomfortable. Luisa's bottom lip was quivering, her eyebrows knitted together, and it looked like she would burst into tears any second—but she didn't.

Strong, resilient Luisa didn't break down and cry, no matter how much she looked like she wanted to. Bruno wanted to hug her close and tell her it would all be okay, but he hesitated too much and didn't get the chance. He only got to hold her for a few seconds before someone else demanded their turn with the baby.

Camilo screamed. He took one look at his uncle and started bawling. Bruno had been the first after the baby's parents to hold him this time, because the others seemed convinced that this was something special for them—Camilo was Bruno's first nephew, and thus far the only other male born to the Madrigal bloodline. Surely they would have a special bond. But instead, all that happened was that Camilo saw him and immediately cried out in fright.

Bruno quickly handed the baby back to his mother, stammering out his repeated apologies in the process. He only vaguely heard Pepa lightly scolding him before he made a quick retreat from the room. If the baby didn't want him around, there was no use to him being there.

(Julieta later assured him that he hadn't done anything wrong. The baby wasn't scared of him. Camilo was just a mama's boy since day zero, and wanted no one other than Pepa holding him. Bruno wasn't sure how much he believed her.)

Mirabel smiled.

Bruno doubted what he was seeing at first. Was she gassy? Was she not seeing him clearly? Surely no one's first reaction to him, not even a baby, would be a smile. But there she was, smiling and cooing and reaching out to him with her teeny hands, and Bruno felt his heart melting into a puddle that was now pooling in his eyes, reveling in the knowledge that this sweet girl already had him wrapped around her finger.

He actually felt an ache in his chest when Mirabel had to be passed on to the next person. Futilely, he reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to play favorites. And truly, he loved them all—he would happily lay down his life for any one of these children—but something in his gut told him Mirabel would be special. In hindsight, maybe that had been his precognitive powers at play. His Gift did act up in strange ways sometimes.

Antonio hugged him first. Bruno hadn't been there to hold the little one when he was born (even though he longed to. God, did he long to), and it wasn't until after the fall of their Casita did he have a chance to bond with the boy.

A few days after the rebuilding began, one of Antonio's coatis died. It was even harder on him now that he no longer had his Gift, and was unable to properly say goodbye. To his credit, Antonio handled it like a champ, especially for a kid his age. But even then, Bruno still found him kneeling over the burial spot of the animal one day, all alone, and joined him without a second thought.

"I know it's not the same thing, but I used to hold little funerals when my rats died," Bruno said softly. "Some people said it was silly, since rats don't live that long anyway, but—they're still your friends, you know?"

Antonio, without a word, snuggled into him, wrapping his arms around Bruno's waist and sniffling quietly. Bruno was stunned for a moment, but hugged him back fiercely. Five years. He'd waited five years to hug his youngest nephew for the first time. He wouldn't trade this moment for anything.

From the corner of his eye, Bruno saw Mirabel, who had also managed to seek them out. She stood watching them for a moment, a joyful smile on her face that reminded him of the smile she'd given him when she was born.

Such a fantastic young woman she had become. Such fantastic people they had all become. They'd grown so much, no longer the babies he could acutely remember holding in his arms for the first time. Isabela, still polite but now so much more self-assured. Dolores, observant, quiet, and sweet as ever. Luisa, strong in so many ways, and equally as sensitive. Camilo, still dramatic, still outspoken, not caring what anyone thought of him. Antonio, a soft heart who cried for even the smallest of creatures. And Mirabel. Hopeful, smiling Mirabel. Just as special as he'd always known she'd be.

Still, even though they were grown, Bruno would always be there with open arms if they ever needed someone to hold them. After he'd been away so long, never would he take for granted the moments he could hold them close. Never again would he not be there for them when they needed him.

These wonderful children were his family. And for that, Bruno counted himself extremely lucky.