A/N:Hi!

CW: Brief descriptions of violence in this chapter as a minor OC remembers the events of the night the Encanto was formed, similar to the flashback we see in the movie. Also, a woman has difficultly in childbirth. Two people share a passionate kiss at the end of the chapter. (The description of which is as spicy as this particular story will ever get.) Nothing explicit or graphic.

I hope you like it! :)


Chapter 31

"So, Señor - can you tell me where can I find the nearest television?" Camilo asked as he leaned against the counter of the stall at the open-air market, just off the road they'd come in on. A man stood behind it chopping and fileting fish.

"Camilo!" Mirabel whisper-shouted from between clenched teeth.

"I just wanna see one – real quick. Then we'll return the notebook to Selena and go home!" He whispered back.

The man grunted, not even bothering to look up from his work. "…television?"

Camilo's charming smile faltered. Had Tío Bruno somehow gotten the timing wrong? Was television – not invented yet? "Ah – you know – it's – ah – moving – pictures – in a – in a box?"

It didn't help that he didn't actually know what he was looking for, either.

The man stared at him and then threw back his head and laughed.

"Okay, that's a little rude," muttered Camilo under his breath.

"Mijo," the man said, shaking his head and coughing slightly. "Hombrecito – there's no television here. You've got to go to Bogotá to see something like that. Even better, México or Los Estados Unidos. They've actually got something to watch, there."

"What?!" Camilo exclaimed, clearly disappointed.

"But," the man continued, chopping the head off a fish with a practiced efficiency, then fileting it and removing the bones. "But – if you want to see 'moving pictures', you can visit the cinema. There's one next town over – Villa de Salento. It's a bigger city; they have a cinema and a train station. Less donkeys and carts. More – modern things."

Camilo sighed. "Okay. Gracias. We'll – keep that in mind. Can – uh – can you also tell us – where to find Selena de Leon?"

The man blinked at him. "de Leon? I don't know any Selena de Leon, but Santi – Santiago de Leon works for Carlitos. He delivers for me sometimes, when Carlitos doesn't have enough work for him. I think he has a sister? I don't know where he lives, but I can tell you how to get to Los Carnes de Carlitos, and you can go from there, eh?"

"Sí! That would be – very helpful, gracias," Camilo said, noting the directions carefully. "Mirabel – we've got to - "

He turned around to find he was alone. "Mirabel?"


"Señora Madrigal?"

Alma paused and turned to see a man roughly her age with salt and pepper hair and a neatly trimmed mustache walking toward them, using a cane and limping slightly. They'd finished their business with Selena and Daniel and left with a promise that they would have the remainder of the money she was due if she came to the Encanto next week. Even if she'd agreed to do the work for only twenty pesos, Alma insisted she deserved adequate compensation for her labor. Selena had also realized after searching through the things they'd brought back that she was missing one of her sketchbooks and Alma had promised they'd look for that as well.

They were slowly walking back the way they came, and Alma was currently turning over in her head how best to address the fact that Tatiana Valencia cheated Selena de Leon out of a fair price for her work. She'd been distracted.

Someone recognizing her here, of all places, gave her pause. "Sí, Señor?" She asked warily.

Luisa tensed beside her.

"Señora Alma Madrigal?" He asked, planting his cane in front of him and leaning forward onto it, peering into her face. He wore a neatly pressed pair of brown trousers and a deep blue guayabera, and his nose was thin and hooked and his eyes were searching.

"Sí…"

He smiled, a crooked, sad thing that walked halfway up his face before deciding it couldn't commit to the full thing. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Señora. My name is Eduardo González. I have heard much about you and your Encanto from the traders that come over the mountains every year. I am one of the elders of this town; one might say the leader. El Presidente of the Council. And we have much to discuss, if you allow me to take but an hour or two of your time."

Alma looked curiously to her familia. How – had he even known she was here?

"Have you had lunch yet?" He asked.

Luisa's stomach growled in response, and she looked away and wrung her hands in embarrassment.

He smiled at her. "I will provide a meal for you and your guests, of course, Señora Madrigal," Señor Gonzalez insisted. "Please, join me."

Alma nodded, tense. She was wary of the offer but it wouldn't do to offend their neighbors now that the Encanto was more readily accessible.


So far, so good.

It was past lunchtime and no one had knocked on Casita's door, demanding anything or asking for help.

Well, there was Osvaldo, but a honey-lemon drop pressed to his hand sent him on his way soon enough.

Nevermind that Dolores had been frowning all throughout lunch. As they'd finished the dishes for their meal – a very small one, for just her, Bruno, and Antonio - she'd tilted her head and grown more and more agitated. Finally, she had begun stuffing some of the arepas and buñuelos and the jug of aguapanela Julieta had left behind into a basket.

"Knock knock knock knock knock, knock on wood," Bruno muttered, rapping his knuckles on the table, the back of the chair, and his head.

"What was that?" Antonio perked up, looking around curiously from where he'd been lying on the ground, playing with a few rats and birds before he needed to return to school. Parce lounged beside him and flicked his tail lazily.

"It was – just me," Bruno said. "I was - "

Knock knock knock.

Dolores looked at her tío and then to the door.

Knock knock knock.

"Is anyone home? Señoras? Señors? Mi esposa – she is having a baby, and the midwife – she is concerned - we need some help, please!"


"Mirabel!" Camilo sighed in relief as he spotted her, standing in front of a shop, eyes wide and mouth open in delight. "Prima, we've got to stick together. You can't just go – oh."

He stared at the display before him, carved wooden mannequins displaying fashions he'd never even dreamed of. Suits and hats for men that they'd only seen crudely sketched in their tío's hand; dresses with skirts that stopped at the knee and blouses with wide shoulders; hats with veils and flowers and in colors and textures that were entirely foreign to the Encanto they'd lived their whole lives in.

"That's – that's - "

"It's gorgeous, Milo," Mirabel sighed, her eyes darting here and there – taking in every pattern, every stitch. "It's – it's - "

"Yeah, yeah, it's beautiful. Are you going inside or are you just gonna stare at it?"

Mirabel gave him a look. "We're supposed to be here to help – to return that book - not to – to – window shop and drool over fashion!"

Camilo crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her. "When's the next time we're going to be here, you think? Next year after we're ungrounded?"

"Heh." Mirabel laughed nervously and her shoulders deflated slightly.

Camilo sighed. All this - it really wasn't her fault at all. He'd just taken her along for the ride, and now she was all tense about it. She couldn't even enjoy herself and the adventure they were on. "Don't worry, Mira. I'll tell them it was all my idea." He put his hand over his heart and blinked dramatically. "She tried to stop me but she couldn't. My stupid teenage brain impacted my decision-making abilities. So she came along to protect me, lo prometo."

Mirabel snorted and attempted to hide a smile.

"Sí, sí, I swear, it's the truth! Look at her muscles! Her charming smile! Her big head -!"

"Hey!"

"…full of brains to solve all the problems I make being stupid!"

She couldn't hide her smile at that, and Camilo grinned back at her and pushed her into the shop, following behind.


"…so you see," Señor González continued, carefully patting his lips with his napkin. "…we've been eager to meet the founder and leader of the Encanto for a long time. Your produce is always the best; your minerals brilliant; your wine so strong; the craftsmanship of your people is truly quality work – everything from the Encanto is better than anything we grow or make here ourselves. It's better than most things we could get from Bogotá, even, though according to the vendors who visited during your festival, your small city is far behind it and ours in terms of technology. There is something to be said for tradition, though, eh? Why fix what is not broken? I think you'll find, though, that some modern conveniences are worth the investment of time and money. Electricity is a wonder, Señora."

He'd led the Madrigals to a pretty café near the center of the city, and they'd sat down at a table outside to enjoy the food set before them…by his daughter, the same Señora González who had met them and given them directions as they first entered the city. Apparently she and her brother and their cousins worked that stall every day, monitoring the back road into the city and watching for people from the Encanto. Once she'd heard who they were and sent them on their way, her brother had taken over the stall and she went to fetch their padre. Her in-laws ran the café and she stayed long enough to help serve them and then went to relieve her brother from his work.

"…so I've heard," Alma said primly. "And you've kept…the Encanto a secret?" She was still having a hard time wrapping her head around their conversation.

"Not a secret, per se. We just don't freely advertise the source of all the goods we sell. First of all, it is simply good business. You make a profit by selling your wares to us, and we turn around and make a profit by selling what you bring to us to others. Everything is 'charmingly harvested and hand-made by a quaint, difficult to access village in the mountains'. We must protect our source, eh?" He winked at her, though it was a half-hearted gesture, and when she gave him stony-faced silence in reply, his face fell, and he sighed.

"It is also – out of gratitude, Señora Madrigal."

Alma exchanged a look with her family. "Gratitude?"

Señor González pushed his chair back from the table and stood, relying heavily on his cane to do so. "I have something to show you."

He held out his free arm for her to take, and after a moment of hesitation, she took it. She allowed him to guide her and the rest of their family around the café they had eaten at to the true center of town.

Several other shops surrounded the café, and they backed up to another group of buildings that seemed to contain another restaurant, an inn, and several more shops. A church sat on one end of the street, and a government building that could only be the town hall on the other. Spanning the length of the city block opposite them was a park, its neatly maintained garden beds overflowing with flowers.

She felt that she'd been here before – and she had, hadn't she? If only for a brief moment, fifty years ago – she and her husband and her babies had fled through the town, much smaller then, in their escape. But though everything held an air of familiarity, it was distant – as if seen through a warped lens, or through a dark veil. It made her ache strangely inside, to know she'd been a part of the history of this town and yet to feel so very…detached from it, now.

Señor González led them across the street to the park and down the path. Shortly after the entrance to the park, the path branched out in several directions, and there – in the center – stood a statue of Pedro and Alma Madrigal.

Alma's hands flew to her mouth and tears sprung her eyes. She felt Julieta and Agustín wrap their arms around her; she sensed Isabela and Luisa on either side of their parents. Alma kept one hand pressed to her lips and the other sought out her locket.

Her late husband – not an exact match, but very obviously him - stood carved from stone, a pack on his back and a lantern lifted before him, his arm around an inexact but recognizable carving of her in her early twenties. His expression was determined and hopeful, his eyes looking ahead to the horizon. A real flame burned in the lantern he held. Alma held a large candle, also burning with a real flame, though it was plain – not carved or decorated like their previous candle. Carved into the stone beneath them was the verse "And the light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not." (1)

"Pedro?" she gasped. She looked to Señor González. "And – me? How – how?"

Señor González looked up at the statue of her late husband, his hands clasped before him over his cane in solemn reverence. "His sacrifice did not save only the refugees on your side of the mountain, Señora." He looked back to her. "It saved us, too."

Alma looked from him back to her husband, tears shining in her eyes. "I don't – I don't understand."

Señor González led them to a bench nearby, and motioned for them to sit. Alma sat, Julieta on one side and Agustín on the other, and Isabela and Luisa stood behind them, their hands on their parent's shoulders. Luisa was already sniffling and Agustín offered her his handkerchief, which she accepted and blew her nose in. Loudly.

Eduardo González lowered himself stiffly onto the far side of the bench, trying to give the family a comfortable amount of space.

"The night your husband died, Señora, I was a young man in San Cristobál. Barely seventeen years old. Your group had just passed through and several families from our village followed, seeking a better life than the one promised here in our rapidly deteriorating town, the impending violence promising to ruin it completely. But as you may know, some could not leave their homes. Some did not want to leave their homes. My family was one of them."

Alma stared ahead, seeing nothing but the past play out in her memory. She and Pedro had escaped their home and had come to San Cristobál, exhausted and afraid. The people had offered them shelter and food, and Pedro had helped pass out the generous gift of supplies to those who needed them most, warning the leaders of the town what they were running from.

They'd stayed only one night before setting out again, but they'd waited too long, rested too long.

They'd been followed.

Señor González' hands clenched and unclenched around the cane before him. "We fought, Señora. I was full of fire and anger and talk until the time actually came to fight. It was - " he swallowed. "My father – my older brother – they were unyielding in their defense of our home. We had one rifle, used mainly for hunting or for frightening jaguars away from our farm – but the bullets ran out before the men did. They could not fight against so many. I watched as they cut down my father and brother without hesitation. I – I did not have that same…fortitude." His fingers clenched the fabric of his trousers, just above his knee, rubbing slowly and absentmindedly over the old wound.

"I looked into the face of the man who killed them. He turned from them and saw me - a young man who could not hold his machete without it shaking, standing in front of his mother and sister - and he attacked me. But I saw in him my father, my brother, my tío – and I hesitated."

There was silence for a moment.

"Then you were the better man," Isabela said quietly, her voice tight with anger and grief.

Señor González smiled, a tiny, bitter smile of acknowledgment, his gaze far away. "He cut me down, and I still – remember his face as he stood over me." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I knew I was going to die. But – I didn't."

He opened his eyes and turned to them, tears in his eyes. "There was an explosion of light – it passed through the town, a fire that consumed nothing but the men attacking those of us who had stayed behind. One moment, there was a man over me, the next – nothing." He shrugged his shoulders. "He was gone. They were all – gone. Carried away in a cloud of divine magic. We learned later from witnesses on our side of the river that that – light, that – miracle - " he inclined his head toward the statue. "It was because of Pedro Madrigal. And you."

A low, mournful, keening sound escaped from the depths of Alma's soul, and she buried her face in her hands, her elbows on her knees. Oh, what a complex myriad of emotions swirled in her heart! It held grief and anger at the pain of the memory of that night, amplified by the story of the man beside her. She was not the only one who'd lost someone that night. Guilt and confusion at why, exactly, that was – why had Pedro's death resulted in such a miracle, such gifts for them, when others had borne the same pain and gotten nothing? Amazement and love, once again, for her Pedro – whose sacrifice and willingness to seek peace in the midst of violence had saved so many more than she ever knew.

Someone placed a hand on her shoulder, and when she looked up, Agustín offered her a handkerchief with a look of great compassion and tenderness. He was so accident prone he always had several on him, just in case – and she was so grateful for it. Grateful for him. She pressed her fingers to his cheek in affectionate gratitude and took it. Luisa bent down to give her an awkward hug from her place behind the bench, sobbing into her ear, and Alma patted and squeezed her arm reassuringly.

Señor González waited until the family had collected themselves and continued. "You can imagine it was – disconcerting. It took us days to work out what had happened that night. Your group – some of our people saw you, before the mountains sprang up and hid you – but all we could do was guess at what had happened. We pieced together what we could – that Pedro had stood before the attackers and sought peace, that they had killed him, that you cried out in grief – and perhaps in plea? - and a candle sent forth a burst of light that destroyed the enemy and created the mountains. We tried for months to find a way through the mountains to aid you, but no one could ever pass through them. Anyone who tried always ended up right back at the river where they began."

Alma's tears began anew.

If only she'd known.

If only they'd all known there had been survivors willing to help. Those first few years – they were so difficult, so hard.

But they had been so afraid.

He shifted slightly and sighed. "We went about rebuilding our lives here in San Cristobál, much the way I expect you did in your Encanto. Ten years passed, and then – imagine our surprise when one of our farmers on the outskirts of town, nearest the river - saw a group of men crossing it! We were astounded. We were so happy to have evidence that you'd survived; that your group was alive somewhere behind those mountains."

Alma bowed her head in guilt. She'd been so strongly opposed to the traders leaving the Encanto, but there were only so many things they could make on their own in the mountains, only so many animals they could breed from the very limited supply they'd brought, and she'd finally agreed for the sake of the village that looked to her to guide and protect them.

"We…didn't know," she said slowly. "That…all of the men, from that night…were gone. We were…afraid."

Julieta squeezed her hand and rested her head on her madre's shoulder, and Alma pressed a kiss to her hair before resting her cheek on Julieta's bowed head.

"Completely understandable, Señora," Eduardo González said softly. "I understand completely. But – Señor Perez, the farmer, led the men to town, and they told us they were doing well but wanted to trade for some things, and we worked out an agreement." He sat back against the bench and rubbed his hand over the top of his head and chuckled. "We were so eager to help then, not knowing that soon you would be bringing even more blessings over those mountains. Produce the likes of which we'd never seen. Minerals and gold so pure it put Boyocá to shame. And by then, we'd established a strong system of trade. We were more than willing to buy what we could and sell it in turn to Villa de Salento. You know, of course, that your people were very closed-lipped about their home, and for good reason. And though your people always managed to find their way back, only those your traders accepted to take back with them ever made it through the mountains to the Encanto."

He looked to Agustín. "I remember you, I think. Young teen? Fourteen, maybe fifteen? Tall and clumsy? Majority of your injuries were simply a result of you tripping over your own two feet?"

Agustín gave him an awkward half smile and shrugged apologetically. "Not much has changed."

Señor González chuckled and continued. "We were not a town that received a lot of traffic. Most of the surrounding towns were focused on rebuilding themselves. You and your trade – it gave us an advantage. Most of what you see around you today is a result of what you sold and traded to us."

"And you never abused that advantage," Alma said softly, but there was a sharp question hidden in it.

Señor González mouth twitched. "We did not - most of us did not. Like all people, Señora, we are flawed. Some in our village tried to find the Encanto, not out of a desire to harm but a desire to…trade more. Gain more. Greed is powerful motivator. No one could ever find you, though. We know, now, that you are a healthy town, a precious Encanto in the mountains. And we do our best to honor your desire to remain so. But - here is where I must be frank."

He turned and looked solemnly at each family member in turn, and Alma's heart constricted with apprehension.

"We do not talk about the Encanto much, here. Everyone in town knows, of course, of the village in the mountains that comes to trade occasionally. The village is small and antiquated but thriving, and near impossible to get to – or at least it was, until an earthquake opened up a mountain pass that made it more accessible. You are a valuable trade partner but not worth visiting. That is the attitude of the people here, Señora, and I admit that I, along with the other leaders in town, encourage it."

"But…why?" Luisa asked, confused.

Señor González gave her an appraising look. He continued without answering her question, but raised his hand in a gesture that indicated he would arrive there eventually. "We've always known there was something special, something magical about your village. But to most here, the miracle of the Encanto was a one-time thing – an event that happened fifty years ago."

He gave them all a pointed look. Alma felt Isabela and Luisa shift nervously behind her. Julieta lifted her head from Alma's shoulder and stared at the man.

Eduardo González continued. "I have long suspected there is more to your miracle than that night. There are rumors." He paused.

"What sort of rumors?"

He sighed, collecting his thoughts. "As with most secluded rural villages, there are rumors of magic that haunt the forests; otherworldly creatures that protect the jungles. La tunda, of course. El Mohán. El Boraro. La Llorona. But it is also more than that."

Alma felt her family straighten with her, goosebumps breaking out over her scalp and neck and arms.

"Spirits that control the weather, or foretell your doom. Tree women, the daughters of La Madre Monte, who can make roots grow out of the ground around your feet, dooming you to finish your life on this earth as a tree. Shapeshifting demons. Indestructible giants. Shadows that drive you mad whispering all of your darkest secrets into your ears. Fairies who will curse you to immortality with a bite of their tempting food. La Candileja, the spirit of the vicious grandmother who raised her grandchildren to be such wicked things, cursed to wander the afterlife surrounded by flames." (2)

Alma heard Luisa gasp and turned to look at them. Isabela and Luisa's eyes darted to each other and then back to Eduardo, struggling to keep their expressions neutral.

Señor González watched them carefully. "…but of course such rumors are nonsense."

Isabela unintentionally sprouted several blossoms on her hair, and a cactus grew by her feet.

Alma swallowed, overwhelmed and trying desperately not to show it.

Señor González cleared his throat and when Isabela looked at him, he inclined his head toward her and tapped his head furtively. She brushed the petals from her hair and met his even gaze with one of her own, narrowing her eyes at him slightly.

Alma's mouth worked for a moment, looking between her nietas and the gentleman beside her, and she did not speak.

The man looked around and then leaned toward them, his voice low and urgent. "Knowing the extent to which the rumors of your people's abilities are true is not something I need nor care to know. I just wanted to make you aware that such rumors exist, that they are bedtime stories told to frighten young children into behaving, and that your village – and your secrets – are not something this city needs to know about."

Julieta darted a glance to his wounded leg, and then back up to him. "But – don't you - "

His sharp gaze made her words die on her tongue. "Are you the…doctor?"

She blinked back at him and gave a little nod.

He sighed, rubbing his hand across his tired face. "I have lived with it this long. What is a few years more? Trust me, please. You are welcome here, all of you, anytime you wish. We are grateful for the protection your miracle afforded us fifty years ago and the income it has brought to us since. But our system has worked well for the past fifty years. You've desired privacy for so long and we have honored that - in part because we were forced to, in part because we truly desired to leave you in peace. It may be best if you keep your abilities to yourselves."

"But – we could help, here," Luisa blurted out.

"And you could also put a target on the backs of all our people, Señorita. Do not to that to yourselves. Do not do that to us."

Silence fell heavily around them. "Of – of course." Alma said softly, her voice far away to her ears.

"But people already know!" Isabela hissed. "Vendors came to the Encanto during the festival. We literally just healed Daniel and Luisa carried a whole cart's worth of paint cans up two flights of stairs on her own!"

Señor González sighed and rubbed his temples. "None of that is unexplainable. The vendors didn't see anything of note during their visit to your town; I spoke with all of them afterward to determine how the trip went and whether they deemed it worth it to return at subsequent festivals. They agreed the people were charming and they would be willing to travel to your town a few times a year. Is that agreeable to you?"

Alma shivered slightly as though waking from a dream. "I will – bring it up at our next council meeting."

Señor González nodded. "Next issue. Healing Daniel - ?"

" - Daniel de Leon." Alma supplied. "Señorita de Leon painted a murales for us during our most recent festival."

He nodded. "I know the family. I know of Daniel. They all arrived less than a year ago after losing their parents in Bogotá. We have a committee to help newcomers; my daughter is on it. She found the oldest boy a job and checks on them frequently. Daniel is unwell. She helps where she can, but there is no cure for asthma, and the boy has missed so much schooling I'm afraid he'll not be able to work next year when he's old enough."

At their expressions, he explained further. "I am not being judgmental, only practical. A family like that needs all the income they can get. Daniel being unable to work puts a strain on them. Most families that come are more…self-sufficient by now. They've been hit hard with a series of unfortunate events."

Alma pressed her lips into a thin line.

"We already work with the landlord to reduce their housing fee and give them food when we can. But Selena often only takes jobs when she knows Santiago will be home to help care for Daniel, and that puts additional strain on their finances. I – offered to send them to you; told them that the fresh air in the mountains may help him; that I'd heard there was an excellent doctor there. I was going to encourage them to go the next time the traders came – but then the earthquake happened, and the pass opened up." He shook his head. "Even so, they didn't believe it would help, and I have a feeling the oldest regrets moving here. He was not at all interested."

"A doctor going to see the family is nothing unusual," Señor González continued evenly. "Daniel rarely leaves his apartment and even if he tells someone he met a woman whose magical arepas healed him, they will dismiss the idea that they are magical and believe you've found some medicine or herb that helped ease his symptoms. If you're concerned about the family somehow revealing your secret, you needn't be. Last point - a large, strong young woman being able to carry several paint cans at once is not such a stretch."

"It was more than several," Isabela muttered.

"Even those in this town that believe in your abilities believe them to be exaggerated. Most see the tales of your magic as old wives tales," Señor González continued. "People take what they see and hear and turn it into what they want to believe, and most people now have no desire to believe in magic. They will explain away anything unusual in a way that makes sense to them. Still, I believe it best to do any 'helping' away from the eyes and ears of the city. A blatant display in the town square may be all well and good for you, and you may get away with it here - but I would rather you did not. The fact that the road to your village is still notoriously difficult to traverse and the rumors of the dangerous jungle serve as a small layer of protection, for you and – indirectly – for us as well. If there is no reason to seek out a small village in the mountains, that is one less reason to come to San Cristobál as well."

"Protection?" Alma's heart stuttered in fear, and Julieta squeezed her hand.

Señor González sighed, and when he looked back to the small group huddled there on the bench, he looked apologetic. "It – is bad out there, again, Señora," he said softly. "Our little city is safe enough for the moment, but we do not know how long that will last."

He looked back to the statue of Pedro and Alma with their lantern and candle. "There are two types of people who remember, Señora. Those that remember to honor the dead and prevent history from repeating itself, and those that remember in order to seek violence and revenge." He sighed. "As long as I am alive and leading this town, we will always be the first. You have nothing to fear from us. All we ask is the same from you. Please – reassure me that we have nothing to fear from you as well."

Alma shook her head in disbelief. "Of course, Señor. You have nothing to fear from us."


"Uh – qué pena, Señor…Carlitos?"

Camilo looked over the counter of the butcher shop and pursed his lips. No one was around.

"Hola!" He called, attempting to get a response through the back door.

"Camilo," Mirabel whispered urgently as she tugged on his sleeve. "I think maybe we should just go, now. We tried to help, there's no televisions, I saw the dress shop – let's go before tío's vision of you comes true - "

"We came this far, why give up now?" Camilo whispered back.

Mirabel sighed. He'd already lost out on seeing a television, and while the automobiles and electric lights were admittedly cool, he was obviously not ready to leave, yet. There was so much more to see – and that stupid sketchbook to return.

"Ah, look – a bell!" Camilo smacked the top of the small bell and it let out a clear little ding.

Nothing happened.

He hit it again, several times in succession – ding ding ding ding ding -

"Can I help you?" A large man came out behind the counter from the back, his shoulders barely fitting through the door. He looked about the age of their parents and the height of Luisa, but with less muscles and a much larger belly. He had a large bushy mustache and eyebrows to match. They looked like little caterpillars settled over his dark and deep-set eyes. His apron was splattered with blood.

Mirabel knew it was just a sign of his job but she shivered slightly at the sight of it and offered the man a winsome smile to hide it. She knew better than to be intimidated based on someone's size or appearance alone but the way the man carried himself screamed 'leave me alone'.

"Hola, Señor…Carlitos I presume?" Camilo said, his voice polite and professional.

The man grunted and dipped his head in response.

A yes.

Probably.

"Ah, so – I was wondering if you might be able to give me the address of Selena de Leon, ah – sister to Santiago de Leon. I believe he…works for you?"

The man stared at him for a minute.

Camilo smiled at him.

Carlitos grunted and then turned back to the door. "Santiago!" He barked.

A young man came out of the back room, just barely squeezing past Carlitos, wiping his hands on a towel and then flinging it over his shoulder. He was tall with brown skin, dark wavy brown hair, and dark green eyes.

Carlitos grunted and nodded in their direction and then ducked his head to return to the back room.

Santiago de Leon opened the counter and stepped around, then offered them a smile. It was professional and kind but it didn't reach his eyes. "What can I do for you?"

"Hola, Señor de Leon," Camilo said, straightening and returning the young man's smile.

Camilo didn't realize it, but he'd begun mimicking the man's body language. He always resorted to mirroring others' mannerisms back to them when nervous, and this was no exception. Mirabel wondered if Santiago noticed – and if he did, if he'd mind.

"My name is Camilo Madrigal, and this is mi prima, Mirabel."

"Hola!" Mirabel gave a little wave with her fingers.

His expression changed then, into something guarded and uncertain. "Madrigal?"

Camilo and Mirabel darted a glance at each other. That was not the reaction they were used to when introducing themselves.

"Ah – sí! Your sister painted a murales of our town and our family last weekend? Selena, right?"

"Sí." He said and crossed his arms in front of him.

Mirabel shifted to the side slightly as Camilo explained that they were there to return Selena's sketchbook, the one that got left behind. He took the book out of the bag that sat across his shoulders to show Santiago. Mirabel had a hard time staying still when she was nervous, and the new angle she saw as she wandered around the shop made her see the interaction in an entirely new light.

He was the man.

The young man from Tío Bruno's vision.

The one who would either attempt to pummel Camilo or shake his hand.

Santiago held out his hand. "Gracias. I'll take it home to her when I get off of work."

"Camilo," Mirabel whispered urgently through gritted teeth.

"Relax, I got this," he whispered back, the smile still plastered on his face. "Well – ah – of course! But – we're happy to return it for you."

Mirabel had huffed and took to pantomiming behind Santiago. She attempted to make the outline of a vision tablet with her hands and pretended to hold it, her mouth open in shock.

Camilo squinted at her and wrinkled his nose in confusion before returning his attention to Santiago. "You know. Since you're working and all."

Mirabel then pretended to grab someone in one hand and punch the imaginary person in the face. When she caught Camilo's eye, she grimaced and inclined her head from Camilo to Santiago. Camilo's brows drew together in confusion. "Wouldn't want to get any of that…meat juice? On these pages…?"

Santiago turned to give Mirabel a confused look as well, and she quickly tried to hide her movements by grabbing her elbow in one hand and tapping her cheek with the other before waving away their concern. "Nothing! Nothing, I'm fine! Just admiring all this…steak. Never seen so much before!" She squeaked slightly.

Santiago stared at her suspiciously for another moment before slowly turning his attention back to Camilo. "I appreciate it, but I don't think my family needs any more unexpected visits from Madrigals today. I'll take the book back to my sister, thanks kid."

Camilo bristled at that. "I'm not a kid."

Santiago snorted. "You're not much older than my baby brother, and he's still a kid."

Camilo snorted right back, the sketchbook protectively clutched to his chest. "Well you don't look much older than my sister and she thinks she's grown but she still sleeps with a little stuffed capybara that's missing an eye."

Mirabel bit back a groan and tried valiantly one last time to warn Camilo that Santiago was the person in Bruno's vision. She mimicked Camilo's Spooky Tio moves from back when she'd first asked him about Bruno, before Casita fell. Then she cupped her hands around her eyes and flared her hands them outward, wiggling her fingers, before pointing emphatically between Camilo and Santiago and then throwing another imaginary punch into her hand.

Santiago narrowed his eyes at Camilo. "Give me the book, please. I don't let people who can't take 'no' around my siblings."

"I can take a no," Camilo argued, his arms and hands gesturing wildly, the sketchbook still clutched haphazardly in one hand. "I take 'no' all the time. 'Camilo, don't take seconds until everyone else has had a chance to eat.' 'Camilo, no, stop playing fútbol in Casita, we'll have guests over soon.' 'No, Camilo, you can't go to town today.' 'No, Camilo, we don't need two Juanchos, for the love of all that is good in the world, please stop!' Well, here, if you want, you can have it - "

"Stop!" Mirabel yelled, just as Camilo flung his arms wide and the sketchbook accidentally slipped through his fingers.

All three of them watched as it flew in a perfect arc – right into the trashcan at the end of the counter.

Mirabel smacked her hand to her face, Camilo stared in open-mouthed horror at the rubbish bin, and Santiago's face turned dark.

"Okay, see, that was not supposed to - "

But Santiago stepped toward Camilo and grabbed his ruana, right over his chest, the fabric twisting in his grip as he pulled Camilo closer to him.

"What is wrong with you – all of you? You Madrigals think you're hot stuff because you're the leaders of your backward little town in the mountains? You think you can take advantage of people and treat people and their things like they're trash?! The world is bigger than that, pelota, and a whole lot meaner than you're used to."


Bruno wrung his hands as he rushed after Dolores.

"Lo siento," he whispered. "I didn't see – I didn't see this; I just – looked into what would happen in town, not what would happen here, and I - "

"It's not your fault, tío," Dolores said softly, her voice made more urgent by the rapid rhythm of her footfalls.

They'd sent Antonio back to school safely on the back of Parce, and then raced after Señor Herrera with all they could carry.

They stopped outside of the house Señor Herrera ducked into. The agonized cries of a woman in the midst of labor were easy even for Bruno to hear outside, and he looked to Dolores, worried.

She dug through her basket of supplies and pulled out a set of earmuffs, slipping them carefully over her ears and adjusting them until they were comfortable.

The midwife met them at the door.

She took one look at Bruno and glared at him. "You! Out. Away. Shoo."

It stung a bit until she did the same to Señor Herrera. "This is no place for men. You stay out. We'll call if we need something."

She turned and gave Dolores an appraising look. "Where's your tía?"

Dolores met her gaze with an even one of her own. "She's unavailable."

"Well she'd better make herself available. You're an unmarried woman. The birthing room is no place for you, either."

Dolores blinked at her, and if her cheeks flushed slightly, she didn't let on that it bothered her. "Well, I'm the only Madrigal woman you've got at the moment. I've got some of tía's food and I've listened to plenty of labors and deliveries, Señora Cabrera. If you let me, I think I'll be able to help. Señora Herrera's heartbeat is strong but her baby's is rising and falling. I think - "

"I think you're inexperienced." Señora Cabrera snapped. "And you know even less than you've experienced."

"Hey!" Bruno said sharply as he watched Dolores' shoulders tighten.

The midwife turned her sharp eyes on him.

"She's – inexperienced – that much is true. Can't argue with that," he said firmly. "But – just because she hasn't experienced it personally doesn't mean she has nothing to contribute here, eh? If she says the baby's heart rate is rising and falling and might know how to help – you should listen to her. At least – don't be – don't treat her like that."

Señora Cabrera crossed her arms. "Treat her like what?"

"Like you're – like - like she's - "

The midwife snorted. "I am more experienced and more knowledgeable than her. I'm not being rude, I'm being direct." She sniffed as she eyeballed in Dolores again. "But I'm short on help and she can fetch water and hold Señora Herrera's hand."

Dolores nodded.

"But if your mother finds out and questions my decision making, this is on you and your tío, not me. You hear?"

Dolores squeaked. "Sí, Señora."

Cabrera turned to Bruno and frowned at him. "I need another woman who knows what she's doing. Do you know one who could help?"

Bruno blinked at her and stuttered, and his brain failed him for a moment. He could only think of Ma and Juli and Pepa, and they were all gone at the moment. "Do I – do I – know - any women? Ah - "

Dolores narrowed her eyes at him. "You're dating one, tío."

"Right!" Bruno's eyes widened in realization. "Right! I'll just – go get – Lucía. For help. To help with this baby-making situation. Having - baby-having situation. I'm – ah – I'm gonna go now." He stared at them for a moment, obviously mortified. "Bye."

Cabrera and Dolores watched him leave. "Men are stupid," Señora Cabrera stated flatly.

Dolores frowned at her.

"Trust me," she repeated. "When it comes to having babies, even the strongest, most level-headed men become blithering fools. Follow me, Señorita. We have work to do."


Camilo held his hands out in front of him, palms up in a placating gesture. He wore a sheepish grin on his face and Mirabel clapped her hand over her mouth, wincing.

Tío Bruno's vision was coming true.

"Lo siento!" Camilo said, cautiously attempting to tug his ruana out of Santiago's fist. "I didn't mean to – I just - it slipped - "

"Do you have any idea how hard it was for Selena to save up enough to buy a sketchbook with that specific type of paper? And how long it took her to save up for the pencils to go with it? And then you come in here waving it around toss it in the trash?!" Santiago gestured angrily with his free hand, and Camilo winced – but Santiago never made to hit him. He just – held onto his ruana with one fist and gestured wildly with the other. "I told Selena she was crazy, we should never have - "

"Found it!" Mirabel said, hoisting herself up after digging around for a minute. It was only slightly soiled. "Found it, and we can clean it off for you!"

Santiago's grip relaxed slightly, and the doors to the butcher shop flew open, bringing wind and rain and thunder and lightning and hail with it.

"LET GO OF MY SON!" Pepa bellowed.

"What the - " Santiago hissed, dropping Camilo and lifting his hands to shield himself from the unexpected barrage of weather.

Pepa stood in the doorframe, sopping wet, lightning illuminating her features and making her look more than slightly unhinged. Tío Félix was right behind her, his lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.

As soon as he looked to his wife, his mouth lifted into a little smirk of pride, before resettling sternly on the three young people in front of him.

"Santa mier-," Santiago said, his mouth dropping open in shock.

Pepa glared at him and then turned to Camilo. "And you - "

Camilo straightened his ruana around himself and raised his hand sheepishly in greeting. "Hi, mamí!"

"Don't 'hi mamí' me, Camilo Castillo Madrigal-Álvarez! You are in so much trouble, young man! So!"

Camilo opened his mouth to speak.

"Much!"

He closed it again and offered her a tense smile instead.

"Trouble!"

Santiago reached up to touch his shoulder in a daze, brushing off some of the snow that fell there. He looked like he might faint.

"What?!"

Mirabel heard the small sound despite the chaos raging around her. Carlitos had rushed in from the back room to find that a hurricane had taken roost in his shop front.

"Ah – we - we can – explain - "

"You!" Carlitos thundered as he pointed to Pepa - and his voice caught the attention of everyone in the room.

"All of you," he demanded, gesturing to the whole lot of them. "Back room. Now."


"You're doing great, Paula," Lucía soothed as she held her arm. Paula Herrera was squatting beside the bed, her upper half draped over a pillow and her hands clenching the bed sheets as she cried, the sound muffled by the blankets. Lucía was on one side and Sofia on the other, holding her up and supporting her as she rocked and moved in any attempt to ease the pain. When Bruno had come and finally managed to get the words out to explain what was going on, she sent him to fetch Sofia as well. Sofia had left Diego with her husband and come to help Señora Cabrera as well. Bruno waited outside with Señor Herrera, but Lucía was too focused on her current surroundings to worry much about him.

Dolores sat on a chair at the head of the bed beside Sofia, rags and towels at her feet, a pitcher of water on the nightstand next to her, her tía Julieta's food lined up beside the pitcher. She had her earmuffs on, and Lucía almost wished she had a pair as well.

"Shut up!" Paula bawled. "Shut up shut up shut up shut - " Her pain-filled cries were cut off as the contraction ended and she gasped for air.

Lucía was unoffended. Sofia said all manner of things when she was birthing all five of her children and Lucía had quickly learned not to take it personally. Paula's sharp commands to shut up or stop touching her were nothing compared to Sofia's curses.

Dolores took the opportunity the silence afforded her and lifted her earmuffs, frowning in concentration.

Señora Cabrera squatted behind Paula, pressing and feeling her back and abdomen and checking the birth canal. "Well?" She asked, looking to Dolores.

Dolores nodded. "It helped. The position helped. The baby moved and his – or her – heart rate is steady again."

The midwife nodded in approval. "Good girl."


Carlitos ushered them into the back room. Mirabel looked over her shoulder long enough to see him move the sign on the door from Open to Closed and lock it. Her heart sank as she turned and followed her tío and tía through the door and into a room full of wooden butcher blocks, knives and saws and all manner of sharp instruments hanging from the walls, moving and clanging together in her tía's wind.

She grimaced as she stepped over a puddle of…something on the floor. Apparently Carlitos had been in the middle of butchering a pig. She tried not to breathe through her nose.

Once everyone was in the back room, Carlitos crossed his arms and stared at them. He and Santiago stood on one side of the room, Mirabel and Camilo shivered beside Pepa and Félix on the other.

Mirabel looked at them all. Félix was murmuring words of comfort and encouragement to Pepa, who still looked like she could spit fire if she opened her mouth, and Camilo was staring at the ground, chewing on his lower lip. Santiago's eyes were wide and his face was completely blank with shock.

Carlitos' expression was difficult to work out. He looked the same as he had when they first walked into the shop and Camilo dinged the service bell. That is to say – unamused and unapproachable.

He waited.

They all waited.

When Pepa had calmed enough that her wind no longer made the knives sway and her cloud was a small gray thing above her head, Carlitos turned his head slightly to Santiago.

"Go get Señor González."

Santiago stared at him for a moment. "I - "

"Go."

Santiago nodded and moved to the back door. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes darting from Mirabel and her family to his employer. "I – don't want to get anyone into trouble," he said, his voice quiet and urgent. "I don't want any trouble."

He looked afraid.

Carlitos grunted. "No one is in trouble. Go."

When Santiago had left, Carlitos turned back to address their little group.

"So," he said, in his gruff, quiet voice. "You must be los Madrigal."


Bruno looked up as the door opened, and Señor Herrera sprang up beside him, his eyes wide and searching the faces of the women exiting for signs of news, good or bad.

Sofia smiled. "Madre and baby are healthy and well," she announced. "Señor, go meet your son."

"My son!" Señor Herrera cried, his face lighting up with joy. "A son! I have a son!" He shook Bruno's hand so hard Bruno winced and clasped Sofia and Lucía on the shoulders as they exited, loudly kissing their cheeks.

He ran into the house and was quickly scolded by Señora Cabrera for being too loud.

Sofia brushed her hair out of her face with her arm. She'd washed up in the house before leaving but was still a mess, and Lucía didn't look any better.

Bruno stood, clutching his arm. "So – ah – how – how did it go?"

Sofia grinned at him. "As well as it possibly could have. The baby was breech and Dolores was a lifesaver. I'd warn your sister that Señora Cabrera's got her eye on her now."

"Oh. That's – ah – good? I think?"

"Sí. Gracias. Dolores should be out in a minute, Señora Cabrera's going over a few things with her."

Lucía smiled at him. She looked tired. Bruno stretched his hands, cracking his knuckles nervously. "Gracias."

Lucía shrugged away the thanks. "I admit it wasn't what I expected to be doing today, but I'm glad I could help." She looked down and sighed at her clothing. She'd worn the apron the midwife provided but she was still...less than presentable. "I…will probably have to cancel story time today. I need to get cleaned up and I don't have enough time to heat all the water we need, bathe, and clean everything else up before the kids arrive after school lets out."

"You could shower at Casita," Bruno said before he realized what he was saying.

Lucía blinked at him. "You…your Casita has a shower?" She and Sofia spoke in tandem, looking at each other before looking back to him.

Bruno nodded. "Uh – sí? We all – ah – well, all the – adults have bathrooms attached as part of our rooms. I mean – Ma and Pepa and Juli and me. And then there's another bathroom the kids share. But I mean – sometimes they use their parent's bathrooms too. And I assume – I hope? - that once Dolores and Mariano are married, Casita will add a bathroom to her room, too. It's what happened when Pepa and Juli got married. Their rooms changed. And I got mine – I mean, I guess Casita just gave up on me at some point because I got a bathroom in my thirties." He laughed nervously.

"But!" He plowed forward. "But the point is – that I have a bathroom. More than one. That you can use. You both can use. Hot water. Shower. It's ah – it's a quick clean. Then you can still – ah – still do your story time. If you want to. But you don't have to! A break could be nice too. If you're tired. After – uh - all that."

Lucía shook her head and grinned. "You're explaining the history of Casita's magic architecture but I'm still tuck on 'Casita has a shower'. A real shower? The kind with pipes and heated water that washes you off like rain? Or like - a mini waterfall?"

Bruno nodded, a little confused at her enthusiasm about Casita's indoor plumbing. "Uh – yeah. I mean we've got – tubs, too, you know – like the rest of the Encanto - but – ah -"

"Oh, we're taking you up on that offer," Sofia said, her voice leaving no room for argument. "After the afternoon we've had we deserve a treat."

Lucía gave her sister a look. "Paula was an angel compared to you."

Sofia stuck her tongue out at her.

"Sofia can use the main bathroom and Lucía can use Tío Bruno's," Dolores interrupted quietly. "I'm calling Mamí's."

Bruno and Lucía jumped slightly as she appeared behind them, and Bruno watched as Lucía's expression softened and warmed. He blinked in surprise as she held out her arms to his sobrina and Dolores willingly embraced her, bending down to rest her head on Lucía's.

Lucía wrapped her arms around her and squeezed her tightly. "You did so well," she whispered into Dolores' shoulder. "You did so well, Dolores. I'm proud of you."

"Gracias Lucía," Dolores whispered back.

Lucía held her for a moment and then released her, and Dolores gave her a small, genuine, smile. Bruno noticed that Dolores looked – stunned. Maybe a little overwhelmed. And who could blame her?

"I – I know your madre will want to talk to you about this, but – if, after – you ever need to talk about what happened with someone who was there – I am happy to."

Dolores gave Lucía a grateful look. "That – would be good. Gracias." She flushed slightly as Bruno caught her eye and then looked away.

Right.

Bruno cleared his throat. "Um – right. Casita?"

Dolores, Sofia, and Lucía nodded. "Casita."

As they began to walk, Lucía spoke with Bruno. "You were out here with Señor Herrera this whole time. How did that go?"

Bruno snorted. "He – ah – squeezed my hand so hard I thought it might break. And he paced and worried and gave a rousing monologue about how he was going to ask me to look into the future but didn't and how he wanted to know but didn't want to know. It was better to see, it was better not to see. No offense to me, of course. He – uh – he never actually got around to asking at all. He just – sort of – talked about asking."

Lucía looked at him curiously. "What would you have said, if he did ask?"

Bruno sighed. "I…don't know. My last – visions didn't exactly – go as planned."

"What do you mean?"

Bruno sighed again, deep and long-suffering. "Teenagers," he muttered, "are entirely unpredictable."


"So…let me get this straight. We're basically legends. That most people outside San Cristobál don't actually believe in. But you know we're real. And you want to keep our secret so we stay legends that no one believes in so no one comes looking for us and poking their nose around and messing up the cushy trade deal you've got going on?"

Pepa glared at Camilo but Señor González chuckled and nodded. "In summary, yes. That is the basic idea."

"Lo siento, Señor," Alma said. "I'm so sorry we've caused you so many headaches today."

The man waved away her apology. "It is nothing, Señora. In fact, this entire meeting has been much less eventful than I thought it might be. No harm done."

When Santiago had run to get Señor González, he was still saying good-bye to Alma and the rest of them, and now they were all here, together, in the courtyard behind Los Carnes de Carlitos. Señor González had explained a condensed version of his town's history and connection to the Encanto to Pepa, Félix, Camilo, and Mirabel, and Alma had promised to fill in the gaps once they'd gone home.

Mirabel was standing sheepishly with her parents and sisters, turning a small book over and over in her hands. Camilo stood between Pepa and Félix. Félix's hands were on Camilo's shoulders and though he had a smile on his face, Alma had a feeling he wouldn't let the boy out of his sight for a long time to come.

"Gracias, Señor," Alma sighed. "We'll be in touch after I've explained your…way of handling things to our Council." Her familia stirred and began preparing to leave, and Mirabel paused, pressing the book she'd been holding into Camilo's hands and nodding to Santiago de Leon.

Camilo stopped in front of him and held out the book, his lips pursed in a chagrined expression. "Lo siento, de Leon. I should've just…handed it to you when you asked."

Santiago took the book and studied it, looking between it and Camilo. "It's…alright. Gracias for returning it. I'll let my sister know you went through a lot of trouble to bring it back for her."

Camilo sighed and looked away. "Please don't. This is embarrassing enough as it is."

Santiago grinned. "Whatever you say, kid."

Camilo sighed and allowed his padre to lead him away.


Lucía stood in Bruno's bathroom, her mouth open with awe. A toilet and a counter with an inset sink took up one wall and a mirror hung above it. Along the opposite wall sat a large, luxurious tub - and in the back corner, sharing the pipes with the tub, was a large shower. Everything was made of warm wood and bamboo and smooth stone in cool earthy tones.

Bruno showed her how to turn the shower on and off and adjust the temperature. He set out towels with blinding, bumbling speed, almost over-eager to get out and give her privacy. He promised to return with a dress of Julieta's for her to wear home. Dolores had already gotten Sofia one of Pepa's dresses and had gotten her set up in the main bathroom before disappearing back into her parent's rooms to commandeer their bathroom.

Lucía undressed, folding her clothes neatly so the soiled parts stayed inside and setting them on the floor. She turned the taps and sprang back with a startled oh! as the cool water hit her arm. She shivered slightly as she stood out of the water's spray, waiting for it to warm a bit, taking the time to observe the bathroom again. The stone tile felt warm and smooth beneath her feet and she wiggled her toes against it, appreciating in the feel of it.

There was something so intimate about being in this space; a space that was usually reserved for Bruno's private use. She ran her fingers over the soaps in a tidy line on the shower shelf. She wondered idly which soap he favored; if he preferred to shave first and then shower, or shower and then shave; what his habits were in the morning and evening. Her mind wandered and she blinked and shook her head. There was no one to see the flush that grew on her cheeks, but she chastised herself all the same. It was far too soon to be thinking such things.

The water was warm enough, now, anyway. She stepped into the spray, tilting her head back and allowing the water to cascade down her head and over her body. Lucía scrubbed herself raw, breathing in the steam and enjoying the feel of the water on her skin.


After the turn the day had taken, Carlitos closed the shop and sent Santiago home.

Santiago had protested – they really did need the money – but Carlitos assured him, in his brusque way, that he'd be paid the same for the day, work or not.

Selena and Daniel were still organizing her paints in the bedroom when he arrived home, and he walked through the door, tossing the sketchbook on the dresser.

Selena looked up and blinked in surprise.

"Special delivery," Santiago announced, settling himself on the end of the bed.

Selena stood and rubbed her palms on her skirt, flipping through the book in confusion and wrinkling her nose at the state of its cover.

"Cleaned it as best I could. Might need to get it a new cover and rebind it," Santiago explained.

Selena looked over her shoulder at him. "But – how did you even get this? And why does it look like you used it to clean up the counter at the butcher shop?"

Santiago rubbed his hand over his face, unsure whether to scoff or laugh, and he told her.

"Well," Selena said when she was done, and looked between her brother and the book on the dresser, "He's strange. And an idiot, but he means well."

Santiago snorted in agreement.

And Selena smiled.


Lucía traipsed lightly down the stairs, adjusting Julieta's dress as she went. It was a little odd to be wearing her clothing, but they were similar heights and builds; close enough that she didn't trip over her hemline or expose more of her chest or back than she was comfortable with. It seemed that Sofia was the same in regard to Pepa – she filled out Pepa's dress a bit more, and the hemline was a touch too long, but it worked well enough. They'd make it home with time to change before school let out and their children arrived home, and Lucía would have enough time to make a small snack for the kids that came to her story time.

Sofia had been chatting with Bruno until Lucía was through with her shower. Sofia thanked Bruno, gushed with Lucía for a moment over how nice the shower was – and that she might have to convince Lorenzo to install one in their home. She said good-bye to the both of them, and left, leaving Lucía standing in the courtyard with Bruno, who was clearly still feeling awkward about cracking open the door to slide Julieta's clothes in while she was still in the shower.

Only his arm had snaked in, dropped the clothes, and snaked out, all the while apologizing and half-yelling, half-stammering that he wasn't looking, but she could picture him holding his other hand over his eyes and the thought made her laugh lightly again.

Bruno's eyes darted to hers, and he gave her a crooked smile. "Ah – thanks. For – helping today. With the baby thing. And for – for being there for Dolores."

Lucía smiled. "I was happy to help." She looked around, a small frown drawing her eyebrows together. "Is she still in the bath?"

Bruno shook his head. "She – ah – she's in her room. I checked on her; she said she just needed some – some peace and quiet for a few minutes."

Lucía nodded. "Keep an eye on her, okay? That was quite the introduction to labor and delivery. Hearing the process is one thing, witnessing it is another thing altogether. She did great but – make sure she talks to her madre if she has any questions, okay?"

Bruno dipped his head in acknowledgment, his hands worrying in front of him. "I will. Thanks for – everything."

Lucía sighed. He was obviously still thinking about the visions he'd done the night before and how it had all gone sideways today. "Hey," she said softly, ducking her head to catch his eye. "You did a great job today."

Bruno gave a short, dismissive bark of laughter. "Right. I tell my family the best way to go about going to town for the first time, they agree – and then half of them do the opposite and I'm left in charge of a town that still isn't quite sure what to do with me and a niece who had to help deliver a baby before she was entirely prepared for it."

"That is…rough." Lucía grimaced in sympathy. "But – it also sounds like the story of every person who's ever given advice. Just – multiplied in intensity. You can tell people what to do, but in the end it's their choice to do it or not."

Bruno stared at the ground for a moment, turning her words over in his mind. His brows drew together and he squinted his eyes at something she'd said. "Right. Right. Anyway – how – did you like your shower?" He gave her that same shy, crooked smile from earlier.

Lucía grinned. "It was amazing! I've never felt so clean. It's – I loved it. Gracias, for letting me use it. For letting Sofia and I clean up here."

"Oh, I'm glad. It – it is nice, isn't it? Feels good on your back. Like – a massage, sort of. Um - " Bruno's eyes darted from her body back to her face and he flushed slightly, and Lucía was struck, once again, at how endearing and gentlemanly he was.

She wanted to kiss him.

She looked around, making sure Dolores was still in her room, and smiled mischievously before pulling Bruno into the alcove, behind one of the larger potted plants, its leaves shielding them from the view of anyone who might happen to walk by. Not that she was expecting any other Madrigals to arrive anytime soon.

"Lucía?"

She looked at him from beneath her lashes, that same smile still on her face, her hands splayed over his shoulders. "I love you, Bruno Madrigal. I think about you all the time."

He swallowed, and his mouth twitched up in invitation.

Her hands gripped his ruana and she rocked forward, pressing her mouth to his. His hands rested lightly on her waist and she pressed closer to him, her hands releasing his ruana and her fingers tracing his neck and jaw until they threaded through his curls. His back hit the wall and though his fingers trailed down to plant themselves firmly on her hips, he held her loosely, easily, allowing her the freedom of movement to do as she pleased.

She was pleased to be as close to him as possible, and she pressed him even further against the wall.

He pulled her flush against him and kissed her, deepening it the same way she had, and the little sounds she made in response made him smile against her lips.

When she broke away from him a few minutes later, it took him a moment to come back down to earth. He blinked, refocusing on her, and she was grinning at him. His mouth pulled up at the corner, giving her a disbelieving little half-grin right back.

She flushed and focused on readjusting his collar and ruana and putting his hair back in order. "I've wanted to do that since we danced on Saturday night," she confessed in a whisper.

"Do what?" He asked, still dazed.

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, and then back down to his chest, where she smoothed her hands over it. She fought to keep a little smirk off her face and lost. "Kiss you senseless. I just – wasn't quite expecting to go all…senseless myself."

"Heh." He laughed breathily. "You can do that anytime you like."

"Oh," she said, pressing one last kiss to the corner of his mouth and before pulling reluctantly away, "I definitely will."


a/n: Thank you for reading!

1) Bible Verse - John 1:5

2) La Tunda, El Mohán, El Boraro, and La Llorona are all traditional Colombian or South American myths/legends. La Candileja is said to be 'the spirit of a vicious old woman who was in charge of her grandchildren but neglected to teach them any morals...in the afterlife she was cursed to travel the world surrounded by flames' (according to wikipedia). Similar to a 'will-o-the-wisp'. If you're interested in a really cool exploration of Colombian legends haunting the Madrigals, you can check out "A Ghost Story" by RamblesandDragons on AO3.

I'd also like to take a moment to recommend "Take Back the Kingdom" by Impossiblefangirl0632 and Britt30 on AO3, if you haven't read it yet. It's this...amazing mash up of a Modern and Fantasy AU that spans centuries and includes magic and adventure and angst and found family and it's just - my favorite thing right now.

This is the first chapter where this story will have very slightly different content from the AO3 story. Scenes between Bruno and Lucia will contain a bit more detail, and as such, that story is rated T. Everything else will be the exact same. :)