The party was still in high spirits as the sun rose, pink and gold, over the orchard. Most of the family was still up—Dolores and Mariano had yet to leave the dance floor since la hora loca began, twirling beneath the lanterns—but others, like Abuela and Luisa and Antonio, had gone to bed hours ago.

Mirabel hadn't seen Bruno in a while, not since she and Isabela and Camilo had ganged up to drag him onto the dance floor at the beginning of the reception—when most eyes were on the newlyweds and not the strange, masked man no one had ever seen before. (Mirabel had already answered several questions about him from curious neighbors, and she'd seen Abuela and the other adults do the same, and she fretted about it—but she also knew Dolores would be keeping a close ear out for any signs of trouble, and if she wasn't worried, Mirabel would try not to be either. Emphasis on try.)

But that had been hours ago. Mirabel sat down on the porch, tired and hot from dancing, and fanned herself with her hand. She wasn't sure how she was still awake—her head felt stuffed with cotton and her eyes were gritty behind her glasses. She let her gaze drift over the orchard, searching for even a glimpse of her tío.

Julieta sat down next to her, tucking Mirabel under her arm and pressing a kiss into her hair.

Mirabel grimaced. "Gross, Mamá, I'm all sweaty."

Julieta laughed. "I don't mind, mi mariposita." She looked out over the remaining wedding guests, still dancing under the coffee trees. "Bruno's gone."

Mirabel's head snapped up in alarm but Julieta was quick to soothe. "No, no, I mean, I saw him slip away. I think he's in the barn." She sighed. "I don't think anyone else has noticed yet. Could you…check in with him?"

"What, me?" Mirabel frowned. "He's your brother."

Julieta gave her a small smile. "Even so. You…you know him best."

Mirabel wanted to argue. The words were there: no, Mamá, you should go, he'd rather see you…

But they wouldn't come.

So, she leaned against her mamá's side and nodded, trying not to feel insignificant in the face of this foreign and unforeseen grief.


Mirabel found Bruno in Antonio's barn, exactly where her mamá said he'd be—up in the hayloft, a lantern flickering at his side, his legs dangling out the window. The shawl was gone from his face and the borrowed socks and shoes lay discarded beside him. He was turned, not toward the golden sunrise, but to the dark jungle. He didn't look over when Mirabel sat down next to him.

Wordlessly, he passed her the shawl, neatly folded. Mirabel accepted it and held it in her lap, smoothing the fabric out.

"It was a beautiful ceremony," Bruno said softly.

Mirabel smiled. "Sí. It was exactly what Dolores wanted."

He nodded.

Mirabel wondered what he was thinking about, now that everything was over. She'd done what she set out to do—she'd brought him home, reunited him with the family, and now…

Now what?

"Do you…" Mirabel started, trailing off. Her long day and night were rapidly catching up with her, and she was finding it hard to focus. "Do you want to come back to the house? To sleep? Lola's room is free now, ha."

Bruno shifted, knocking on the floor with one hand. "I don't—Mirabel, me sleeping is what got us into that-that mess last night, so I-I'm not sure—"

"Tío, I think you not sleeping is going to cause more long-term problems than the other way around. Trust me."

"But—"

"Tío Bruno."

He winced and looked at her from behind his curls.

Mirabel gave him a tired smile. "Tío, I haven't slept for more than an hour in nearly…"—she tilted her head, scrunching her face— "…twenty-seven hours now. And if I haven't slept in that long, Dios knows how long it's been since you slept. And I don't know about you, but I can not handle a deep conversation right now. Can I please go to bed."

Bruno laughed softly, shaking his head. He plucked the shawl from her fingers and wrapped it around his face before standing and offering his hand. In the light from the lantern, Mirabel caught a glimpse of the fetter still around his ankle—a symbol of where he'd come from; a stark reminder of how far they still had to go.

"Come on, mija," Bruno said, helping her to her feet. "Let's get you to bed."

"And you," Mirabel insisted stubbornly, tearing her eyes away from his feet to look into his face.

"Sí, and me." Bruno's eyes crinkled in the corners. "I have a feeling your mamá will lock me in a room until I comply anyway."

Mirabel shook her head, clutching his hand. "No, nope, no one is locking anyone in rooms."

Bruno squeezed her hand.

Together, they stepped out of the barn and into the warmth of the newly risen sun.


Mirabel felt like she'd been hit by a bus.

It was nearly noon by the time she stumbled out of her room, her sisters snoring lightly behind her, and down the stairs for coffee. She could tell she hadn't slept long enough—her head was still stuffy and she kept yawning hard enough for her jaw to pop.

But she promptly forgot all about that when she walked into the kitchen and froze.

Señor Martinez and his son, Alejandro, were sitting at the kitchen table, cooling cups of coffee in front of them, and they turned in their seats at the sight of her.

"Buenas tardes, señorita," Señor Martinez said politely.

Mirabel blinked blearily at him. "Uh," was all she could manage to say.

Félix entered the room behind her. "Caballeros," he said smoothly, and from his tone, Mirabel knew instantly that he was turning up the charm. "Unfortunately, Doña Alma is still sleeping. We've had a very hectic couple of days, I'm sure you can imagine!" He laughed. "But I can tell you that she will probably not wish to discuss any council matters today, as we're seeing off mi hija and her new husband later this afternoon. I'm sure you understand."

Alejandro frowned and stood. "But Señor Castillo! The monster is still out there! I saw it with my own eyes, it–it can look like any of us, it even took the form of your son—"

Mirabel gasped and Félix shot her a warning look.

"I heard a lot of talk about a monster from everyone that night," Félix said, folding his arms across his chest, "including from my own son-in-law. But I can assure you no one else saw anything. Antonio wandered off into the jungle, as he has done many times before, and was found again by his tía, safe and sound and unaware anyone had been looking for him. And he has been punished for it, believe me. Whatever Mariano saw had nothing to do with Toñito's disappearance at all, so if—and that's a big if—there was such a monster, by now it must be long gone."

"Félix," Senor Martinez said lowly. He placed a hand on Alejandro's arm and stood. "Are you calling my son a liar?"

"Manuel," Félix said sharply. "I would never do such a thing. Just how long have we known each other?"

Señor Martinez regarded Félix carefully for a long moment before he said, "Por favor, tell Doña Alma we would like to request a meeting with her as soon as possible. Buenas tardes and felicidades on Dolores' marriage." He nodded once and stepped toward the door. "Vámanos, Alejandro."

Alejandro looked torn. But, with a stern look from his padre, he complied, and the two men filed out, the door slamming behind them.

Mirabel watched the Martinezes go, her eyebrows knitting together. Félix's face was stormy, but he elbowed Mirabel playfully anyway and gave her a small smile that didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Careful, chiquita, or your face will get stuck like that."

Mirabel shook her head. "They don't believe you, do they?"

Félix sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Hard to say. But, this is nothing we haven't faced before! You're probably too young to remember, but your sisters and cousins nearly spilled the beans every other week when they were little and still figuring out how to control their Gifts." His smile grew into a more genuine one. "Isa was probably the worst offender. She'd grow cactuses under people's seats when she didn't like them. Your abuela got really creative explaining those away."

Mirabel cracked a grin. "Sounds about right," she said. Her smile wilted, and she bit her lip. "But…what happens if she can't explain this one?"

Félix hesitated for a split second before he waved a hand. "Nahhh, if anyone can, it'd be Alma." He threw an arm over Mirabel's shoulder and shook her a little. "Let the grown-ups worry about this one, okay? You've done more than enough."

Mirabel nodded and this seemed to appease him, but she knew she'd be worrying about it anyway. It was just in her nature.


The rest of the family woke up slowly, and it was late in the afternoon by the time everyone was up and complaining of hangovers over brunch. Dolores and Mariano had come back for their send-off before leaving for their honeymoon, and Dolores joined Camilo in wheedling Julieta into making something, anything to cure their raging headaches.

Mirabel was laughing at something Camilo said when she felt someone stand behind her chair. She twisted in her seat and looked up to see Abuela smiling softly down at her.

"Mirabel," she said. "May I speak to you for a moment?"

"Oh, um," Mirabel said. She hadn't spoken to her grandmother since the wedding and she felt something akin to panic race through her—she wasn't in trouble, surely? "Of course, Abuela."

Abuela smiled and nodded, and gestured for Mirabel to follow her out of the kitchen. The rest of the family watched her go, and Mirabel caught a glimpse of her mamá's worried gaze before she joined Abuela in the living room.

Abuela sat down on the couch and patted the seat next to her. Mirabel sat stiffly, her shoulders straightening.

Abuela reached for Mirabel's hands. Mirabel allowed her to take them, and Abuela drew them into her lap and ran her thumbs over them soothingly.

"I just wanted to say," Abuela said, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "Gracias, Mirabel."

"Oh," Mirabel said after a moment, unable to come up with a better response. "Um. For…what?"

"For bringing my son home again," Abuela said simply.

"Oh." Mirabel fidgeted. "Well, anyone could've done that." She laughed lightly.

Abuela squeezed her hands. "No, Mirabel, I don't think anyone else could have."

Mirabel's mouth snapped shut.

Abuela cleared her throat. "I also wanted to thank you for opening my eyes. This family—we…we are broken, and it took a very long time for me to see just how much. And…and to see how much of it was caused by—by me."

She looked Mirabel in the eye. "I'm sorry for the pressure I put on you, mija, when you didn't want it. I…I don't know how to make amends for that, but…I am ready to try."

Mirabel took a deep breath. "I don't know how either," she admitted. "But, um." She prematurely winced. "Maybe…I don't have to go to council meetings when I come visit anymore?"

But to her complete surprise, Abuela laughed. "I think that can be arranged." She released Mirabel's hands and held out her arms—tentatively, giving Mirabel the option to say no.

Mirabel shook her head and fell into her grandmother's embrace anyway, hugging her back tightly. "Te quiero, Abuela."

"Te quiero mucho," Abuela whispered back.

When they broke apart, Mirabel smiled.

And had a thought.

"You know, Abuela," she said slowly. "Camilo…he knows nearly everybody in the village."

Abuela raised an eyebrow. "¿Sí?"

A slow grin spread across Mirabel's face. "He'd probably have some very good insight into community matters."

Abuela looked thoughtful.

Mirabel heard a door creak upstairs and both she and Abuela looked up.

Bruno stumbled down the stairs, his wild hair sticking up in odd directions, and his ruana rumpled. He froze when he saw them sitting on the couch before slowly raising a hand and waving at them.

"Buenas tardes, Tío," Mirabel said with a grin. "Sleep okay?"

Bruno squinted at her. "Afternoon already?"

Mirabel nodded with a giggle.

Abuela stood and walked around the couch to her son, but stopped short of touching him. "Hola, mijo."

"Hola-hola, Mamá," Bruno said softly.

Neither of them moved.

Finally, Abuela just gave him a small, tense smile, nodded, and stepped away into the kitchen.

Bruno let out a shaky breath and watched her go, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Mirabel got up from the couch and approached him. She lightly touched his arm and he jumped.

"Sorry, sorry," Mirabel said quickly, holding up her hands.

Bruno shook his head. "No, no, it's okay, Mirabel."

Mirabel looked at him, then to where Abuela stood just a moment ago, then back to him, before deciding that that was probably something outside of her capacity to fix.

Instead, she asked, "Soooo, anything…different?"

He shook his head, whiskers twitching, and Mirabel's heart sank.

But he smiled at her and nudged her gently. "It'll be alright, Mirabel," he said softly.

He through the doorway to the kitchen. His gaze lingered on his sisters—on Pepa chugging her cup of coffee and Julieta preparing several cups of chocolate en leche de coco, laughing at something Agustín said, then on Abuela, now conversing in serious tones with Félix, and then on the rest of his sobrinos gathered at the table.

"I'm…home," Bruno whispered, as if it had just dawned on him for the first time.

Mirabel reached for his hand and held on tight. "Sí, Tío Bruno," she whispered. "You are."

Bruno looked down at her, something close to awe on his strange face. "It's all thanks to you, Mirabel." He gave her his approximate smile. "I always knew it'd come down to you."

They heard Abuela clap her hands in the kitchen. "Everyone! ¡Vamos! Dolores and Mariano are leaving within the hour, and we need a family picture!"

Mirabel and Bruno looked at each other.

Bruno shook his head. "I'm, uh," he began. "I'm just gonna…grab some breakfast…"

"Oh no you don't," Dolores said, appearing in the doorway to grab hold of Bruno's arm and drag him into the kitchen. "You wiggled out of every single photo yesterday; I'm making sure you're in at least one."

Bruno stammered out protests, but it was no use. Once his sisters saw him, Pepa and Julieta looped their arms through each of his own and dragged him into position in the living room.

Agustín was already there, setting up the camera. Isabela darted forward. "Ay, Pá, let me handle that—"

"No, no, I've got it, Isa, don't worry."

"That is what I'm worried about—"

The rest of the family jostled together in the living room, rearranging themselves so Dolores and Mariano were in the center, all the cousins fanning out around them, with their parents and Abuela and Bruno in the second row. Bruno, squished between his sisters, hunched his shoulders and reached to pull his hood up.

Antonio loudly insisted Parce join the picture and, since no outsiders were there, Abuela obliged readily with an indulgent smile that made Mirabel's head spin.

Maybe things can be better, she thought wildly.

"Is it ready, amor?" Julieta called.

Agustín gave her a thumbs up and almost knocked the tripod over. Isabela caught it and set it upright with a huff. With a flick of her wrist, a flowering vine bloomed and positioned over the shutter button, and Isabela stepped back to join the rest of the family.

"Everyone say 'queso' on three?" Camilo joked.

"Ooh, what about that old cheer?" Pepa asked, turning to her siblings.

"Ay, really?" Julieta asked, rolling her eyes.

"For Bruno's return!" Pepa cried. "It's fitting!"

"What cheer?" Luisa asked, confused.

"Por favor, anything but that," Bruno muttered from under his hood.

"I think it's a splendid idea," Abuela said firmly, and that was the end of it.

"Alright, on three, everyone says, 'La Familia Madrigal,' bueno?" Pepa explained. A rainbow formed above her head. She yanked Bruno's hood down with a grin and he squeaked.

"Uno—"

"Dos—"

"Tres—"

La Familia Madrigal!"

Isabela's vine pressed the button.

The camera flashed.

And then—Pepa shrieked.

Mirabel turned just in time to see Bruno slump downward, his eyes rolling back in his head. Agustín caught him and eased him down, fear shining out of his eyes behind his glasses. Everyone started shouting at once and Parce bolted. Dolores slapped her hands over her ears, a stricken look on her face. All the blood drained from Abuela's face as Julieta fell to her knees by her brother's side, and Pepa's cloud returned and started thundering, and lightning flashed on the ceiling.

Mirabel pushed through her cousins and joined her mamá on the ground. "What happened?"

Julieta was checking his neck for a pulse. "I don't know," she said softly. Her face was ashen. "He just fell—I don't know what could have—"

She cut herself off.

Light.

A bubbly, golden light was steadily building, emanating from every inch of Bruno's prone body. It flooded the room, forcing Mirabel to throw her hands up to shield her eyes.

It lasted only for one blinding moment, and when the light subsided and Mirabel was safely able to open her eyes again, the first person she saw was Bruno.

Only, he wasn't—he was—

"Oh my god!" she cried, throwing her arms around her tío.

His remaining ratty features; the fur, the ears, the snout—were gone. He had the same wild hair, now with more pronounced gray streaks, and scruff on his face. He was shorter, thinner, swimming in his ruana.

But when he opened his eyes, they were the same hazel green, and very, very confused.

"Uh, Mirabel?" he asked. Even his voice was slightly different, a little higher-pitched. "Why am I on the floor?"

Mirabel released him, beaming, and he sat up, his brow furrowing as he looked at the concerned faces of his family, all piled on top of each other and staring at him. Pepa was openly weeping, tears streaming down her face, but above her head, rainbows danced on the ceiling. Julieta had her hands over her mouth, her eyes bright.

"What's going on?" Bruno asked. He hunched in on himself a little, and looked to Mirabel, his fingers twisting in his ruana.

"Brunito."

Abuela was on the floor, pulling him into her arms. That was all it took for Julieta to join her, then Pepa, and Bruno found himself squished between three sobbing women. He hesitantly reached up to pat their shoulders and as he did so, he did a double take at the sight of his arms and hands.

Mirabel giggled as her own tears slipped free. Bruno squirmed in his mother and sisters' grip and they released him so he could take stock of himself, feeling for his snout and finding only a regular nose, and small ears hidden beneath his hair. He flexed his left ankle; Mirabel looked down and gasped—the fetter was gone. He looked at her and his eyes welled up.

"I'm…I'm…" He couldn't finish.

"Home, Tío Bruno," Mirabel whispered. "You're home."

And somewhere far away, hidden in the mountains, a magical house began to dance.


Translations:

1. La hora loca - the crazy hour; the part of a Colombian wedding where, after midnight, the dancing picks up and continues well into the early morning hours.

2. Buenas tardes - good afternoon

3. Caballeros - gentlemen