It's the scent of blood that stops him. It's hot metal and salt and sugar coating the inside of his nose, like meat left in the sun. He stiffens and presses a fist to his mouth, trying to keep his rolling stomach where it's supposed to be. He will most certainly not be eating dinner tonight. Probably not tomorrow either.
He swallows once and then again, takes a deep breath in through pursed lips and holds it, and looks down at his own pale limbs. The skin from forearms to fingertips is littered with scars – years of broken visions written in between scattered freckles and popping veins. None are newer than about last month. He runs his hands over his face and into his hair – nose, eyes, ears, curls, crown – and exhales. It's not him. But that's not a relief.
His foot hovers just above the last step down into the main house, trying to decide if it wants to go forward or back. A small whimper draws him out, and he peeks down the back staircase that leads into the entrance hall. His heart drops down to his toes when he sees what's making the whimpering.
Mirabel is curled into herself in a pile of dirt, leaves, and tears. It looks like she lost her footing and fell, forward momentum sending her through one of the larger decorative vases. She makes as though to get up and falls over again with a gasp. Her arm can't support her. There's so much red spreading over the white gold of her dress.
It's the scent of blood that stops him, summoning one, two, three, four shadows from the depths of his mind. They tie his ankles and wrap their fingers around his throat, whispering to him from across the years.
...
Isabela is five or six and no corner of the house is safe. Every available nook and cranny is chock full of flowers or shrubs or both. The house looks like an overgrown ruin but in the best sense, like nature intended to preserve rather than erase. She has just discovered that she can braid her vines together, and if she does it right, she can fly. If she doesn't...well...
Bruno launches himself, arms out, and breaks her fall. He picks her up and kisses the skin just above the scraped elbow and pulls all of her hair back so he can see if there are any other injuries. Julieta sprints across the lawn and all but tackles both of them. "Mi amor, are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Isa shows her the scrape on her arm and another one on her knee that he couldn't see. Julieta kisses Isa and then Bruno. "Thank goodness it wasn't worse."
...
Dolores and Bruno are racing to the front door. Dolores pulls ahead and looks back to taunt her uncle, who has fallen several yards behind. "Hey, Tío! Better catch me before I tell Mamí how many gray hairs you have!"
"She has more!"
"I don't know...old age seems to be – !"
The insult is unceremoniously shoved back down her throat as she trips over a tree root and goes sprawling. If he wasn't running top speed before, he certainly is when she turns over and he sees tears pouring down her cheeks. Her leg is cut open from knee to ankle.
Pepa comes storming across the lawn. "What did you do?"
The rain washes away the worst of blood, but it stings, judging by the grimace twisting Dolores's face. "We were racing, Mamá."
"You are both far too old for that."
"...we were just having fun..." The new round of tears isn't from the cut. Bruno sighs and rummages in his pockets, offering her a bit of leftover arepa from lunch. The cut on her leg heals at once. The cut on his heart scabs over a little when she kisses him. "Thanks, Tío!"
Pepa flares her nostrils at him. "At least you were prepared."
...
"Luisa!" Bruno grabs at her arm, and she pouts up at him with a very stubborn "No!"
"Yes!" He insists. "Get away from the balcony. Come sit with me, let's read."
"No! Play! Jump!"
"No, nena. You'll get hurt. Come on. A book and hot chocolate?"
"Choc'let?"
He nods encouragingly and holds his hand out. "And I won't tell your Mamí."
She toddles after him, and it never gets old listening to pattering of little feet following him...until they aren't. He turns around, just in time to shout her name, and watch her topple off the ledge. He isn't the first to get to her.
"What happened?" Julieta demands. She has a wailing Luisa in her arms, scraped and bruised and angry, and is trying to calm her enough to get her to eat a piece of arepa.
"I – she wanted to – I just looked away for a second – I told her not to – " His brain is scrambled with fear, guilt, shame, and adrenaline, and he can't get a coherent sentence out.
"You have to be more careful, Bruno."
...
...
The longer he watches Camilo, the more he regrets not telling his sister that he had felt a headache – a bad one – coming on. It had been so long since either of them had asked him to watch any of the children. His response was a bit too hasty, but now he's stuck, praying that someone will return from town soon.
"Hey, Tío!"
"Mm?"
"Did you ever slide down the banister when you were little?"
"No. Your Mamá did once."
"Was it fun?"
"You'll have to ask her. Abuela didn't like it."
"Abuela's not here. Can I try it?"
"No." He lets the pain give his voice enough of a bite to let his sobrino know he means it. Camilo harrumphs at him but moves away from the stairs.
They are putting together a puzzle that's making him go cross eyed when the front door opens. He's a half-step behind his nephew when he feels a brief flame run across his eyes. Too late. Camilo is already careening down the railing...overbalancing...smashing his face into the ground. Bruno can still feel his eyes alight when Pepa's nerves get the better of her and she screeches "What good is your Gift!? Look at my son!"
...
Ever so quietly, Bruno takes a step back. And another. And another.
His chest tightens as Mirabel starts crying for real. Dolores finds her within minutes and calls for Julieta who calls for Agustín. It's a concerted effort to get Mirabel out of the dirt, healed, and into clean clothes for dinner, but they manage.
Julieta kisses Mira and then Dolores. "Thank goodness it wasn't worse."
Author's Note: Sort of a character exploration for Bruno (like I don't do enough of those) probing a little bit deeper into his place in the family over time. I may be doing a few more of these (not just for Bruno), just to get a feel for the family dynamics as they will be much more prominent and varied in the Little Talks sequel, From The Ground Up, and I would love your feedback! Ch.1 of From The Ground Up is already posted on AO3. Updates on either site will be slow on that one as it will likely approach novel length at the current plotting.
Through the flashbacks, I envision Isa at 5-6, Dolores to be between 7-9 , Luisa to be around 2 or 3, Camilo at 5, and Mirabel at 4.
I can't say it enough - thank you all for the love and support!
As always, I would love to hear your thoughts! -WW
