*P*A*R*T**T*H*R*E*E*

"I think it's a perfect gift for the girls" Alma said, her arm hooked around Bruno's as they approached his staircase, "and what a wonderful tradition to begin for the children."

Bruno was not so sure. "I don't know," he admitted carefully, "my visions aren't often…well received."

"That's because you are always looking at the negative, Brunito," Alma countered easily, giving his arm squeeze with her other hand. "I think that we can start helping you see the positive. This will be good practice."

"It's not a matter of practice," Bruno said, "Do you think I want to disappoint everyone with my visions? I don't make the future; I just see it! And even then, I don't always understand it."

"Come, come," Alma soothed, "We aren't going to borrow trouble."

"I don't want to do this, Mama," Bruno said. "Isabela and Dolores are just children. We don't need to see their futures. It won't help them! It won't change anything."

"I don't want to change anything; I want to encourage them. Imagine if you had been able to see what your gift would be before your ceremony."

I would never have touched that doorknob, Bruno thought bitterly. His gift had been almost nothing but trouble his entire life.

"The girls will be thrilled to know what their gifts are," Alma went on.

"I love you, Mama, but I do not think this is a wise decision."

"Nonsense, Bruno. Everything will be fine."

*E*N*C*A*N*T*O*

Bruno peered through the crack in the wall. It let him see into the dining room where his entire family sat for their midday meal. Bruno hadn't been able to get sneak any leftover food into his room the night before. The family had had a party to celebrate Pepa's pregnancy announcement, and Julieta's famous cooking had been entirely consumed by the community, and Bruno was not about to try and cook for himself and risk being caught by his family.

His stomach growled, and he noticed Dolores flinch and glance toward the wall. He wondered if she knew he was there. He remembered when he first moved into the walls, she had heard him a few times whispering to himself. She had told Pepa, and all Pepa had said, "Oh, it is just the rats in the walls, my sweets. Don't be afraid. We set traps for them."

Bruno always set off the traps before his pets did. He tried to train them to stay out of the public areas of the house where they would frighten his family and perhaps get killed by a shoe or a broom. However, they were not always entirely intelligent company.

"Have you picked any names yet?" Julieta asked Pepa and Felix.

Pepa smiled. "Not yet, though I do like the name Antonio if it is a boy."

"What a lovely name," Alma said.

Bruno smiled. It was a nice name. It would be fun to have another nephew running around the house. Having grown up with two sisters, Bruno understood how it must be for Camilo to have only a sister and three female cousins.

"I hope it's a girl," Dolores said quietly. Her voice was always so small. Bruno wondered if even her own voice sounded loud in her head.

"I don't! I want a brother!" Camilo said much louder. He grinned at Dolores when she scowled at him.

"Well, we won't know which it will be for a few months yet," Felix said good naturedly, "and we will love the baby either way…so there is no point in arguing, right?"

"Right, Papa," Dolores and Camilo said in unison.

Bruno grinned. He'd always liked Felix. He was a peacemaker nature and seemed to be able to handle Pepa's outbursts in any direction they might take her. Her storms never seemed to phase him. Felix had never seemed to hold it against Bruno about the wedding fiasco, and Bruno appreciated the effort he took to give him a good word whenever the topic came up.

"I won't be the youngest anymore," Mirabel said brightly.

Julieta smiled, "Maybe not of the whole family, but you'll always be my baby."

Mirabel rolled her eyes good naturedly. "Mom," she sighed.

Everyone laughed.

The topic shifted to the remainder of the day's activities. Bruno always let his mind wander away during this part of the meal. He enjoyed being a part of the banter and familial conversation…at least, as a part of it as he could be under the circumstances. However, as soon as Alma began delegating tasks and chores, Bruno felt guilty, and he could not quite understand why he felt that way. His mother had stopped giving him anything to do in the community long before he left his tower and the family. He was only called on to use his gift under dire circumstances, which were incredibly rare in their protected corner of the world. Even though he had never necessarily liked his gift…it was all he had. It was all he was. Outside of his gift, what was he? To the community, he was a monster that enjoyed tormenting them with his ominous visions. To his family he was odd and misunderstood. Except to Julieta and Augustin. They always seemed to value his input outside of his gift.

The familiar chant that ended every meal brought Bruno back to the present. He looked back through the slit in the wall and saw most of the family leaving the room. Julieta began cleaning up the meal, and 10-year-old Mirabel was trailing behind her, helping.

"Mama," she said once it was just her and Julieta in the dining room, "Do you think Aunt Pepa's baby will get a gift…or will it be like me?"

Julieta paused from her work, and Bruno saw her eyes shift to the wall he was peering through. He knew she was staring at the painting that adorned the wall, not at him, but for a moment, their eyes met, and he wondered if he should have told her what he saw that night, the night Mirabel did not receive her gift.

"I don't know, Mirabel," Julieta said honestly, "but even if the baby does or doesn't receive a gift, he or she will be just as special as all of us…just like you."

"Do you think it's my fault I didn't get a gift?" Mirabel asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, my sweet girl," Julieta said, putting down the dishes she had been gathering. She knelt in front of Mirabel, and Bruno could not see her face anymore. But he saw Mirabel's and he saw the tears in her young eyes. "You did nothing wrong. You are perfect, my sweet and wonderful girl. Gift or no gift, you are Mirabel Madrigal. Daughter of Augustin and Julieta Madrigal. Most favorite baby sister to Isabela and Louisa Madrigal. That's who you are."

Bruno's breath caught in his chest as he remembered when Julieta said almost those exact words to him years ago, when he was only a couple years older than Mirabel herself. Julieta had always seen past their gifts.

"I am Mirabel Madrigal," Mirabel breathed, a small tear rolling down her cheek.

Julieta brushed it away with her thumb and gave Mirabel a kiss. "You are amazing just like this, Mirabel. Don't you ever forget that."

*E*N*C*A*N*T*O*

Louisa and Isabela trailed behind Bruno as he led them to his "secret spot" in the forest. In reality, it was just the meadow where Alma and his siblings would have picnics when they were children. However, for now, it was a "secret" location that only he knew about to intrigue his young nieces and keep them distracted while Julieta was in labor with her third baby. Felix had taken Dolores and infant Camilo to visit his family, mostly to give Dolores more distance since she could hear everything. Poor kid, Bruno thought…he had never envied Dolores' gift.

"How much further is it, Uncle Bruno?" 4-year-old Louisa sighed, trudging beside him. She caught his hand, pulling back to make him stop walking. "Can you carry me? I'm tired."

"It's not much further," Bruno assured her, but he scooped her up and put her on his shoulders.

Louisa squealed delightedly and grabbed two fistfuls of his hair to brace herself. Bruno winced, but he didn't complain.

"I wish you could carry me too, Uncle Bruno," Isabela sighed, tugging on his tunic.

"Don't worry," Bruno said, "I'll let you have a turn on our way back."

"When we get back to casita, Mama will have the baby, right, Uncle Bruno?" Louisa asked.

Bruno nodded. "That's our hope."

"Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?" Isabela asked.

"I don't know, Isa," Bruno said.

"You have to know, Uncle Bruno," Isabela said, "with your gift, you can know everything!"

Bruno laughed. "That's not quite how it works, kid."

"Then how does it work?" Isabel asked.

Isabel had had her gift for just about two years. She was fascinated by the gifts bestowed on her family members, especially the more discreet powers such as Bruno's. Bruno's powers, he realized, seemed exciting and mysterious to his youngest family members who had never seen him have a vision. All they knew is that he could see the future, and that sometimes what he saw was good, sometimes bad, and sometimes scary.

Dolores, with her gift, had spent the past two years hearing the rumors and tales of Bruno's gift from the townspeople. Because of this, she had become wary of Bruno, afraid that he might make something bad happen. It didn't matter how many times his family told Dolores that Bruno couldn't cause anything to happen – good or bad...Dolores had become afraid of him, which broke Bruno's heart.

"Well," Bruno said, glancing down at Isabela who stared back with wide eyes, "I'm not really sure, to be honest. It's difficult to understand sometimes."

"Mama says that you have to go in your tower to get your visions because the sand can turn into glass," Isabela said. She had seen the physical copies of his visions many times, even examined them when it was nothing that would be frightening to a child.

"That's true," Bruno said. "I need a lot of space to have a vision. But even when I try to focus on a specific event, I don't always see what I need to see. I have to interpret what I see, which is the hard part."

"What does that mean? Interpret?" Isabela stumbled over the word but seemed proud of herself for saying it.

"It means to take what I see and put it into words. Sometimes what I see is hard to explain with just words."

Isabela frowned. "Do you like your gift, Uncle Bruno? It seems hard to do. My gift is easy."

"Mine is definitely a difficult gift," Bruno agreed, but he wouldn't admit to the child that he hated his gift most of the time. She did not need that burden on her young mind.

Thankfully, before he had to into any further explanation, they stepped into the clearing.

*E*N*C*A*N*T*O*

"Did you know you look just like your father when he was your age, may his soul rest in peace," an elderly voice said.

8-year-old Bruno, who had been busily stirring spackle, startled, and looked up to see an old woman standing only a few steps away. She seemed to have been standing there for some time, just watching. Bruno glanced over to where his mother and sisters were, across the street helping spread the spackle for the men to then lay bricks over in careful rows for a new home they were building. Bruno looked back at the woman. "You knew my papa?" he asked timidly.

"I did," the woman said with a smile.

Bruno noticed several of her teeth were missing. He tried not to stare like his mother taught him, but it was very difficult. He forced his eyes to meet the woman's. "Did you know my mama, too?" he asked, to be polite.

"Not when she was little, but I went to their wedding," the woman said.

"Oh," Bruno said. He didn't really have anything else to say, though he did like that he looked like his papa. The thought bolstered his courage. "What else was my papa like?"

*E*N*C*A*N*T*O*

Bruno sat in his chair, mindlessly plucking at a loose thread on the fabric of the chair arm. His thoughts were consumed with the memories of that old woman and the stories she told – not just about his father, but also her own life as a young woman. Bruno would sit for hours as she talked, just listening. Occasionally, she would seem to forget he was even there at all, and they would sit in contented silence.

Bruno had also been fascinated by her eccentric behavior. She was what his mother had called "superstitious". She would throw pinches of salt over her shoulder and knock on anything wooden. Sometimes, just to tease him, she would lightly rap her knuckles on the curly crown of his head. "Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock on wood," she would say.

"Why do you throw salt and knock on wood?" Bruno had asked one day.

He could still hear her low chuckle, lacking any humor. "To keep the bad away," she had said. "It doesn't always work, but it helps."

Bruno sighed. He knocked on the wooden table next to him, saving the last knock for his own head. He muttered under his breath the familiar words. "Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock on wood."

When he was younger, he had laughed remembering his elderly friend's superstitious behavior. However – then – he had had his visions to show him what would come and how he might keep it away. As much as he hated his gift, it made him feel safe, being able to see. For almost 10 years, he felt blind, only able to see each moment as it came.

The cracks were becoming worse. He would spend hours every day repairing what he could. But the bad kept coming. And he didn't know how to stop it.

Maybe she had been on to something, his friend. Maybe he could keep some of the bad away with the habits she had kept religiously. Afterall, it wouldn't hurt anything or anybody. Maybe waste a little salt, but if it helped…wasn't it worth it?

It was the least he could do for his family.