Chapter 13: Bees
43 years before Encanto
It was early morning as Alma helped Julieta prepare food for the town. They were running behind and Alma was getting frustrated, because her daughter was slow at improving her skills.
"It's not working because you are not whisking fast enough."
"Sorry Mama."
Julieta tried again, but it wasn't much better.
"It's because you're moving from your elbow." Alma explained, adjusting her daughter's arm for her. "You'll have better control if the movements come from your wrist."
"Sorry." Julieta said again, but she still couldn't get it right.
"Like this." Alma took Julieta's hand and rotated her wrist for her to demonstrate, and her daughter winced.
"What's wrong?" Alma asked.
"It's really sore, Mami." Julieta admitted.
Alma took one of the cooked arepas from the pile and handed it to Julieta to eat.
"Better?" Alma checked, moving Julieta's wrist again to be sure. Julieta nodded, quietly chewing the food.
There was laughing and thumping of fast footsteps as Pepa and Bruno chased eachother down the stairs, and Julieta's face lit up.
Pepa made explosion sounds with her mouth as she jumped the stairs, throwing hands back at Bruno and making rainbows flash in his face. Bruno fell back onto the steps with a laugh, then jumped onto her back, making Pepa trip and tumble to the tiles, yelling as she kicked him off.
At the sight of Pepa's thundering cloud, Alma held her breath in worry.
"Bruno!" Alma shouted, and they both flinched. "Get off your sister. Now."
Bruno backed off and Pepa sat up, wide eyes on Mama as she approached, the wind blowing around her.
"You see?" Alma sighed, checking Pepa over. "That wind. Next thing we know she will be raining." Alma ran fingers through Pepa's hair to check it was still dry.
"You need to be careful, mija." Alma reminded her. "A thunder will led to a drizzle. A drizzle will lead to a sprinkle. And a sprinkle-"
"Will lead to a hurricane." Pepa sighed, tired of hearing it. She climbed to her feet with ease. "Mama, I'm not a honeycomb."
Her siblings stifled laughter at the nickname they'd made up for Julieta's regular customers, the clumsy ones who needed daily healing. The name had come from all their bee stings.
"That is rude, Pepa." Alma scolded.
Pepa shrugged with a grin, her siblings' laughter encouraging her. "It's what they are, Mama."
Alma frowned. "Where is your umbrella?"
Pepa groaned, throwing her head back as she went upstairs to get it.
"No umbrella, no play!" Alma called after Pepa as she stomped away, then turned to Bruno. "And did you clean your vision cave?"
Bruno nodded proudly. "I raked the sand into circles this time."
"And the stairs?" Alma added. "We don't want anyone else slipping on the steps while they wait in line."
Bruno chuckled at the memory.
"Those honeycombs." He grinned, then stopped as he saw Mama's stern look. "Sorry... Yes Mama."
"Good." Alma sighed. "And remember, if it starts to look like bad news-"
"Let the sand drop." Bruno nodded, heading over to the breakfast table. "Don't let it keep going."
"Good boy."
Julieta got breakfast ready, and Alma helped her serve it up.
"I have to take Pepa to the fields this morning." She told Julieta, kissing her forehead. "And then I have a meeting in town. So I'll need you to set up the food stall and run it by yourself today."
Julieta felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, but she put on a brave smile and nodded.
Pepa entered the kitchen, exhaling in a puff at the mention of the fields. Pepa hated watering the crops.
As Pepa sat down, Julieta moved in closer so she could hug her sister, head against her shoulder. Pepa combed fingers through Julieta's hair, gently rubbing her scalp. Julieta sighed and closed her eyes in relief.
Alma felt her heart sink as she watched them together. Sometimes Alma missed her own sisters so much it hurt.
"Eat." Alma encouraged, shifting her mind instead to their duties. She had so many responsibilities to get through today and they were already running late. Alma didn't have time to get sentimental.
She sat with her children, taking out a big pile of papers and reading through them as she quickly drank her coffee.
The village had written a long list of requests. The river still needed to be diverted, the church was supposed to face the morning light, the bees nests still needed to be removed from the west side of town. There was a list of grievances about bad prophecies, and a list of specific dates where the village had requested clear skies. Weddings, birthdays, events.
Dios, okay. Alma exhaled as she quickly scratched in responses and rebuttals for each point.
"Juli gets sore, Mami." Pepa explained, rubbing Julieta's arms.
"That's what the food is for." Alma spoke bluntly, eyes still on the paper. "Eat. We need your immune system strong for the rain, Pepa. I don't want you getting sick."
"I'm not a-"
"Don't say it." Alma scolded, glancing up at her. "I don't want to hear that word ever again."
Pepa frowned, one hand holding Julieta's while the other shovelled down food. She saw Bruno sneaking food to his rats under the table and she giggled.
"I said enough, Pepa!" Alma snapped in a tired voice, rubbing her eyes. "We're supposed to care for our community, not make fun of them."
"I'm not-"
"Try to be more like your sister." Alma suggested, then immediately regretted her words as it began to rain.
Alma cursed, hiding her meeting notes under the table as the paper got ruined. Great. Another stupid phrase she'd learned from her mother, who seemed to still haunt her from beyond the grave.
"Clear skies, Pepa." Alma reminded her daughter. A phrase she'd made up to try and teach Pepa to control her gift. "Clear skies."
The room thundered.
"I hate clear skies!" Pepa shouted, smacking food from the plate as rain fell harder. Her daughter was very quick to anger, a temper she'd inherited from her Mama.
Julieta watched the storm with wide eyes, not saying anything. Bruno ducked under the table, gathering rats into his ruana and singing comforting words to them.
"Clear skies." Alma tried again, but it just made her daughter angrier.
Pepa didn't like forcing her feelings. It hurt her heart to try and make the weather change when it didn't want to.
"I hate it!" Pepa screamed. "I don't want to do it! I hate clear skies!"
Alma closed her eyes, trying to push down the familiar rage that bubbled up within her. She felt the urge to grab Pepa, to slap the words from her. To yell at her until she went quiet. Alma's fingers gripped tight to the edge of the table and Casita nudged her chair, trying to help bring her back.
Alma exhaled slowly, memories flashing through her mind of what her own Mama would've done if Alma had spoken to her like that. Alma remembered Mama grabbing a fistful of her hair, slamming her head into the door till she couldn't think straight. Alma didn't want to be like that. She wouldn't. But how else was she supposed to discipline them?
She thought of what her sisters would say. She could almost see Ramona's dry expression, Cora's bright and hopeful eyes. She thought of Pedro, and how gentle she knew he would've been with their babies. She tried to imagine what advice he might've given her. They hadn't had enough time for Alma to really see his parenting methods.
Clear skies Alma, she sighed to herself, then couldn't help but laugh. It was so stupid. No wonder her daughter hated it.
"Not funny, Mama!" Pepa shouted, thunder and lightning flashing.
"I know, mija." Alma smiled, opening her eyes again to hold out an arm. "I know. Come here."
Pepa scowled as she came over to Alma, pretending not to enjoy the cuddle that Mama gave her. Alma held onto her daughter, unsure if this was right or not.
Later
"Next on the agenda is food supply." One of the villagers read from his notes.
Alma sat at the head of the table, her expression unreadable as she glanced down at her warped and weather-damaged papers. The responses she'd written this morning were pretty harsh, so Alma decided to paraphrase.
"There's been an increase in demand for Julieta's food." Alma told the villagers. "If demand goes up, supply goes down. You know how it works. She's just a little girl. Give it time and she will become faster, and supply will increase again."
"But there is also the strain on the crop supply." Another villager pointed out. "The hurricane left us with less harvest than we could afford to lose. It's going to be a difficult winter for the Encanto. We must be careful with our resources, now more than ever."
"The magic only goes so far." Another agreed. "Plants don't just grow out of thin air."
"I am aware of that." Alma replied. She drew pictures on her papers, something she did when she was annoyed, though to everyone else it just looked like she was taking notes.
"Do you have a solution?"
Alma looked back up, offended by the question.
"Of course I do."
The villagers watched with hopeful expressions. They always seemed to trust Alma held all the answers.
"We prioritise life threatening injuries and sickness first." Alma told them. "People like Maria Guzman."
Her friend Sofia smiled gratefully, holding her new toddler as she slept in her arms. Maria had been born sick, and wouldn't have made it if not for Julieta's daily healing.
"Some villagers are coming to Julieta several times a day, the same people over and over." Alma told the villagers. "If these-"
Alma hesitated to find the best word, but all that came to her mind was Honeycombs.
Dios, those kids.
"-The more vulnerable members of our community," Alma continued, "If they were to see Julieta only once at the end of the day, and heal all their injuries in one go, that would reduce the demand greatly."
There was an uproar of protests, but Alma was never one to please. She stayed her ground, watching with a dry expression until they stopped.
"You want to survive the winter?" Alma threw a hand. "This is how we do it."
"My Gus can't help getting hurt." Señora Rojas spoke up in a defensive tone. "It's the bees. They have it out for him."
"That is on the agenda too." Alma turned to a group of villagers who were tired and covered in beestings. "How is the bee removal team going?"
"Almost done." One man sighed, rubbing one of his stings. "There is still one hive we can't reach."
"And it's right next to our house." Señora Rojas added. "What do you expect my poor son to do?"
"How high is the tree?" Alma prompted.
"It's the big jacaranda in town." They responded. "Way too dangerous. We'd be better to just knock the nest down."
"I told you, we relocate them." Alma insisted. "We don't kill them."
The villagers sighed.
"I know that tree." Alma continued. "It's not so high. Try again."
The exhausted team of bee removers exchanged offended looks.
"You want to try, Señora?"
There was murmuring, all eyes on Alma to see how she'd respond.
Alma stayed calm, though internally she groaned.
Great. Now Alma had to do it, just to prove her point.
"So be it." She shrugged.
Later
"Listen here." Alma spoke to the bees, wind blowing her hair as she clung to the top branch. "You sting me, you die."
The bees buzzed defensively.
"Not from me." She muttered. "Your stingers. They only work once. Trust me. I want to find you a better home."
She climbed closer along the branch and the buzzing became louder.
"I know." She sighed. "It hurts to lose your home. But at least you'll live. On the outside, at least."
The triplets gathered together under the tree, standing with the crowd as they watched Mama.
"I can't believe she actually did it." One villager commented.
"I can." Sofia Guzman laughed, holding little Maria in her arms as they watched Alma.
Beside the triplets a little boy with glasses hid against his Mama. Julieta recognised him as one of her regular customers, and she instinctively got an arepa ready in her hand, just in case.
Alma used the smoker, puffing it over the hive to put the bees to sleep. They began to fly over, landing on her as she carefully slipped the hive into a bag.
She winced at the stings.
"Don't." Alma whispered, feeling sad for them.
The villagers all cheered and clapped, the triplets bouncing a little in excitement as Mama jumped down from a low branch, a big bag under her arm and stings over her arms and face.
"Take them to the mountain." She instructed one of the bee catcher villagers, handing over the bag. Alma refused to go anywhere near the forest. Never again.
Julieta tried to hand her an arepa, but Alma shook her head.
"We need to save them." She explained, leading the children back to Casita. "This will just get better on its own, mija."
"Mami, you were brave." Brunito smiled.
"That wasn't brave." She muttered, remembering Pedro and the war, then she put on a smile for them. "Just serving our community. It's important to help them, hm?"
They headed across the bridge together, Casita waving its shutters to them.
"Mami." Pepa spoke up in a bright tone, the sun shining as they reached the door. "You know what you look like with all those bee stings?"
Alma saw her daughter's cheeky grin and she couldn't help but grin back.
"Don't say it." Alma smiled, opening the door for them.