Chapter 38
Mirabel looked up from where she stood near the cabinet in the kitchen, her arms piled high with plates for dinner, as Tío Bruno and Lucía walked into the room.
"Hola Tío Bruno! Hola Lucía!" Mirabel beamed, blindly reaching for another plate to add to the stack. "I didn't know you were coming for dinner." She frowned as she strained on her tiptoes but her fingers touched the bare wood of the shelf. "Casita – help me out here - "
Casita slanted the floor slightly to tilt the hutch and rolled a plate forward. Mirabel found the plate and added it to the stack and refocused on her tío and his novia. "Is Josefina here too? Or Señor Hernandez? Are you staying for dinner? We're having mojarra frita and patacones!"
The rich smell of the fried fish and plantains made Mirabel's stomach grumble. Casita had opened a window near the stove and waved it open and shut, venting the heat and scent of the majority of their cooking out of the house, but right here next to the food it made her mouth water.
Tía Pepa and Dolores stood side by side cooking dinner, and Pepa glanced over her shoulder at the sound of Mirabel's greeting. "Hola, Lucía. I didn't notice you come in - "
"…that's because she came in the back," Dolores said quietly, continuing to help her madre. "Mm!"
Pepa made a sound in the back of her throat that managed to sound suggestive, scandalized, and triumphant all at once, and Mirabel wrinkled her nose in disgust. She ran her fingers along the stack of plates, silently counting to be sure she had enough.
"…it's not like that, Pepa," Bruno said. He sounded tired.
Casita tapped under Mirabel's foot with the nearest tile and she turned to take a better look at them.
A small line deepened between Lucía's brows. Her mouth was set in a smile but her eyes were worried. She held herself as though she didn't quite know what to do with herself or where to put her hands. At the moment they were clasped together in front of her.
Tío Bruno was staring at the floor, so close to Lucía that the edges of his ruana brushed against her arms. He swallowed and looked up to meet Mirabel's eyes and pasted on a nervous smile of his own. He succeeded for all of two seconds before it fell away and his eyes darted away from hers. Lucía leaned slightly toward him, and he pressed his shoulder against hers.
Whatever they were here for, Mirabel had a feeling it wasn't for dinner.
"What's wrong?" She asked, freezing. "What's going on?"
Pepa stopped poking the fish with her tongs and turned to look at them. When she took in their expression, a tiny cloud popped into existence over her head. Dolores froze at the counter where she was slicing avocados for the ensalada, her ear turned toward them.
"Nothing!" Bruno said, and Lucía turned slightly and lifted one eyebrow. "…yet."
They all stared at him.
"Um…something," he amended after a moment. "Something is going on. But nothing's wrong, exactly. Yet. But it could – or, it will - ah – never mind – um - where's Ma?" Bruno asked Pepa.
"…She's sitting with Antonio on the back porch. He's introducing her to some new animal friends." It took Pepa a beat too long to answer. "Why?"
"What's wrong?" Mirabel said again.
Bruno took a deep breath. "I…had a vision."
The weight of the plates in Mirabel's arms grew heavier right along with her heart as they explained it was something…unclear, but something Abuela needed to know about.
"…and me," Mirabel whispered.
Dolores didn't move but her eyes darted to Mirabel.
"And me," Mirabel said again, louder.
Tío Bruno and Tía Pepa and Lucía exchanged glances.
"If I'm the new miracle keeper," Mirabel said with more confidence than she felt at the moment, "I need to know about…stuff. That…affects the Encanto."
Lucía and Bruno had another silent exchange and Mirabel sighed, setting the pile of plates down on the cabinet's outer shelf, gearing herself up for an argument. She was pretty sure she could convince them. After all, she was right. "I just - "
"I mean," Bruno said quietly, bunching his ruana in his fists. "I agree that – that is a good point. As the new miracle keeper, you should know about…stuff. But - "
"And I helped you with my vision! And Señora Ruiz'! And I've sat in on a bunch…" Mirabel paused for a minute, frowning. "Wait - "
" – but this is – something that might affect us all - "
Tía Pepa glanced sharply at him and the temperature dropped several degrees.
Mirabel shivered.
"What might affect us all?" Abuela asked, standing in the doorway, Dolores right behind her.
Tío Bruno sighed and fidgeted, and Lucía looked like she wanted to put her hand on his arm but didn't, and Abuela clutched the locket on her chatelaine. Mirabel looked down at the stack of plates near her hip and traced the edge of the top one absentmindedly, her mind racing.
Tío Bruno had seen something in a vision that bothered him.
But Lucía had been in town all day. The younger kids had the day off because the oldest kids had exams for two days in a row, and Josefina had been talking all week about how excited she was to go to San Cristobál and pick out a birthday present for Bruno.
When had Tío Bruno had that vision?
Had he waited around all day just to ask Lucía for help?
Maybe it had something to do with Lucía. Maybe that's why he sought her out over – over anyone else.
They were courting. It made sense. Especially if the vision had to do with her.
But they were so nervous…
Mirabel hoped it didn't have to do with Lucía. For his sake.
But she had helped with her disaster of a vision, and it had turned out all right in the end. She could help with this one, too.
Tío Bruno exhaled slowly, his shoulders slowly sinking back down to where they belonged. "I…" he said, and his eyes darted to Mirabel, too. "I had a vision and I think – you need to see this."
Dolores and Pepa had to take care of the half-cooked meal in the kitchen and then went to round up the rest of the family for a meeting as Alma and Mirabel made their way up to the vision room with Bruno and Lucía.
Lucía felt like everything was happening so fast, and yet so slowly at the same time. It didn't take long to show them the vision itself and then the tablets Bruno had made, but her stomach turned over halfway through, and she realized that she should've eaten dinner an hour ago. She'd been at Casita with Bruno for two hours already.
Mirabel made several gasps and wordless exclamations as Bruno showed them the vision, but Alma watched everything silently, with increasingly wide eyes and increasingly thin lips.
Bruno, finding one woman alone in the trees, her wavy hair spread out behind her. Or was it two women, on a fallen log?
The road to the Encanto, there one moment and gone the next.
A man with a cart piled high with goods; a truck and men on horseback.
A bird, a snake, a horse.
Juan Valencia and his father, hands outstretched in plea – and Tatiana Valencia, arms wrapped around herself, bent forward and her face wracked with painful grief.
Alma and Mirabel sat on a stone bench just inside the door of the vision room and sifted through them more slowly. Mirabel mused aloud what different pieces of the vision might mean, but her tone lacked its usual enthusiasm. She was treating this seriously.
Lucía and Bruno just let them look. Their hands had only separated long enough for Bruno to show Alma and Mirabel the vision, and then they'd found each other again. Bruno kept pulling away at intervals to knock on wood or throw salt over his shoulder or make the sign of the cross, but he always came back to her, and she was always waiting to give his hand a reassuring squeeze as they waited.
Lucía hoped that Alma and Mirabel would offer them a different perspective – maybe a better one. And Mirabel was trying – but there wasn't enough information to know how to prevent what was going to happen or even what, exactly, they were trying to prevent in the first place.
Alma stared for a long time at the tablet of the road to the Encanto appearing and disappearing, her expression blank and unmoving as she thought.
"Bruno," she said slowly.
He made a small sound of acknowledgment.
"Do you know – did you see - " she stopped speaking for a moment, though her lips continued to move.
"That's – it." Bruno said, his voice small. "That's all I could see. I tried – Lucía and I tried to see more but - "
"But - " Alma eyed Mirabel beside her. "Mirabel."
"Si, Abuela?" Mirabel looked up expectantly.
"I would…like to discuss something with Bruno and Lucía."
Mirabel blinked at her.
"Alone."
Mirabel's whole face fell, the hurt at being excluded again plain on her face. She opened her mouth to protest.
"I need to confirm one thing, milagrita. One thing. And then you will be included on all of our decisions, lo prometo."
Mirabel closed her mouth. "…why?"
Alma set down the green vision slab she held with gentle clink and took Mirabel's face in hers. "Please trust me, nieta. Just – trust me."
Mirabel's eyes darted from her Abuela's face to Bruno's and Lucía's, and then back to Alma's, her cheeks still squished slightly between her abuela's hands. She pulled away and nodded slowly and then left the room, looking over her shoulder with a dejected look on her face.
She shut the door behind her.
Alma looked back to Bruno and Lucía, and they stared at each other for a long moment.
Alma struggled to speak. "The mountains," she whispered. "They came because – of Pedro's sacrifice - "
They continued to stare at her.
" – you don't think - " she said, her body very still and her eyes pleading with them – "you don't think – the forest – the road – is because…"
Lucía gasped as she felt Bruno tense in horror beside her.
They hadn't even considered that.
"I don't want that – again. Mirabel – she already, once - "
"Hold on, Ma," Bruno said, and he nearly tripped as he stepped away from Lucía. "Don't – don't say - I don't think – let me see."
He took a deep breath and the wind stirred around them as his eyes glowed green. "Let me see," he breathed, and it sounded like a prayer.
Lucía opened her mouth to protest – he shouldn't do that! He shouldn't go looking for horrible futures, especially not on his own, without anyone else to see them with him, to help – but –
"It's not that," Bruno sighed after a tense moment, his eyes glowing green and moving back and forth, seeing everything and yet completely blind to the immediate world around him. His voice cracked with relief. "Mirabel – in thirty-odd years she'll be a very happy middle aged lady who is also very frustrated with one of Antonio's monkeys. I think it's one of Antonio's, anyway. She's in Casita. It was just a peek," he said in defense to Lucía as he came out of the vision.
She was still in the midst of protesting.
"But she'll be okay."
That wasn't what she meant.
"I don't – I don't know what's going to happen. But if anything," Bruno said, refocusing on his madre and timid once again – "if anything, that road disappears because of Tatiana – or the woman in the woods. Or the men? It still – the pieces are still too – they're just – they're too – disconnected to makes sense of. But – it's – not good. Right?"
Alma was quiet for a long moment.
Mirabel poked her head back in and when no one else said anything, Lucía gave her a tired smile. Mirabel took that as permission to rejoin them.
"Gracias, Bruno," Alma finally spoke when Mirabel sat beside her again. "For bringing this to my attention. I will need to discuss this with the council." She sighed, and when she looked up at them, her face was tired and sad.
"Would you be willing to show the council, to explain the vision? Just to the council itself, mijo. Not at a council meeting, not to the public. This - this is something that they need to be aware of. I would like to discuss our options with them."
Lucía felt Bruno tense beside her.
"…what…what do you think you're going to do?" Bruno asked.
Alma sighed. "We will probably limit trade and travel until we know more about what is going to happen."
Bruno winced.
Something inside Lucía winced too, at the implication that Bruno would be looking to see more about what was going to happen - but she also knew that at the moment, there wasn't any other way to know more. And Bruno would insist on looking anyway, now that he knew there was something wrong.
Except -
"What about Tatiana?" Lucía asked at the same time as Mirabel. They looked at each other and Mirabel flashed her a brief co-conspiratorial grin.
Alma pressed her lips into a thin line. "Her travel will be limited too. Very limited."
Lucía bit her lip. "But - " she said softly. "Aren't you going to show her? Shouldn't she be warned? Shouldn't we - tell her?"
" – Interrogate her?" Mirabel said simultaneously, her voice trailing off as she realized she and Lucía were on two entirely separate pages. She gave them all a sheepish, too-wide smile. "Not like – interrogate interrogate. I just - " she mumbled, her voice getting smaller and smaller as she spoke – "if she's doing something that's going to put us all in danger – isn't the fastest way to find out what it is to – I dunno – ask her what she's doing?"
Bruno's eyes were far away in his thoughts and worries. His shoulders slumped.
"I don't want any of us to have anything to do with her," Lucía said when no one else spoke, "but – maybe, if we warn her – if she knows, maybe she'll - "
"She won't," Bruno said flatly. "I mean - is it the right thing to do? Unfortunately. But she might not even know what she's doing. And whether she does or not – it's not like she'll choose any other path but the one she's already decided on. And then she'll blame us for telling her where she's gonna end up."
He sounded like he'd done this before. And he sounded very, very tired.
Lucía chewed on her lower lip, the desire to argue that they should at least give her a chance - both for the Encanto's sake and Juan's sake – he'd looked so sad - battling with the desire to defer to Bruno's knowledge and experience.
"So…interrogate?" Mirabel asked slowly, her eyebrows lifting in expectation.
"No," Alma said, and her voice was calm but firm.
They all looked at her in surprise.
"We will not being showing Tatiana this vision. Yet." Alma said, watching Bruno carefully.
Bruno blinked at his mother and his shoulders straightened just a bit, his brows furrowed. He looked taken aback.
Mirabel looked as confused as Lucía felt.
"But -
"If we rush off to show Tatiana this vision, as I - " Alma swallowed and looked away. "As I would have insisted we do in the past…"
She shook her head. "No. Things are different now. We don't know enough to say for certain what is going to happen or why. If we go trying to warn Tatiana or question her, she is going to deny any wrongdoing, grow suspicious, and refuse to cooperate. We'll never find out what she's doing and may just end up bringing the vision to fruition even faster."
Mirabel frowned and then brightened. "Well, then….what if we just ask Dolores what she's up to?"
Both Alma and Bruno blanched at the suggestion.
"Oooookay, maybe not," Mirabel said slowly. "So if we can't go question her, and if you don't want to show her the vision – what are we gonna do? Just let it all play out? You're just gonna let her – do whatever it is she's going to do that makes her and her family sad and miserable and the road disappear?!"
Lucía didn't say so, but she agreed with what Mirabel was saying.
Alma set the tablet she'd been inspecting again on top of the stack beside her and stood from the bench. "No, no we are not. This is a complicated situation, Mirabel." Alma smoothed her skirt as she thought. "We think we know what this vision is about, but as you know – we have misinterpreted visions before. And misinterpreting visions can have far-reaching consequences."
Mirabel bit her lip.
"The vision is not clear, but if the road disappears, it will affect the entire town. This is not something we can decide for ourselves. We believe it is related to actions of Tatiana's, but what proof do we have? We must protect both the town and – and Bruno. For now, we will - " Alma sighed, and her face showed every bit of her age. "I will ask Dolores to keep an ear on Tatiana, if she is willing. It will be her choice," she reassured Bruno. "Limiting travel is a good start for the time being, but we will discuss more options with the council. They may decide to bring Tatiana in and question her or warn her. I am not saying we will never tell Tatiana – I am saying we should not rush into assumptions and cause even more trouble for ourselves – and for Bruno - before we fully understand what's happening."
She hesitated, her voice low. "It has not been three months yet, but if necessary, I could consider lifting the ban on Madrigal services we placed on Tatiana. It may serve as an incentive for her to stay put without directly telling her anything about the vision."
Lucía and Alma both looked to Bruno, who swallowed nervously.
Mirabel protested heavily.
"I am sorry," Alma said, and her words were strained. "I would never consider it, mijo, if there wasn't this – this extenuating circumstance. You do not have to speak with her, but we must do something. I am trying." She stepped toward Bruno and took his hands in hers, her expression pleading. "What would you have me do, Bruno? If you know of a better way, tell me. Tell me what we can do to protect you and everyone we love."
"…I don't know, Ma," he whispered. "But I'll keep looking. And I…I'll go with you and explain to the council."
And then Lucía remembered the way his shoulders hunched and his eyes darted to the side when he had said he didn't want to be the villain again, and she locked away the argument that Tatiana should know and that she should know now while she still had a chance to change.
It raged and fluttered against her heart, but she kept it caged where it wouldn't be heard. Maybe someone on the council would bring it up.
"I'll go with you," Lucía said instead.
"And so will I," Mirabel said, looping her arm through his on his other side.
"But Ma!" Mirabel protested, following her mother around as she measured and scooped and kneaded and baked. "Ma! I should be at that meeting! It's important! It's – you saw the vision, too! You all saw the tablets last night! Tell her - Abuela!" Mirabel gestured to Alma, a pleading expression on her face.
"You will know everything that happens at the meeting, lo prometo," Alma said, her mouth trembling slightly with both amusement and apology.
"You should be at school. You have a test today, mija," Julieta repeated serenely. Agustín nodded decisively and made a small sound of agreement beside her, concentrating on patting arepas into shape. "You're still fifteen, amor, and almost done with your schooling. There will be time enough for council meetings when you are done."
"Pa?"
"I agree with your mother, Miraboo," he said, his voice tinged with just the right amount of remorse.
"But the vision - "
"Will still be here when you get home. As will a detailed account of the council meeting and their decision." Julieta said.
"But - " Mirabel looked to Bruno, and he studiously avoided eye contact, choosing instead to focus on his coffee cup. It was probably for the best. He'd let Julieta and Agustín handle this. Personally, if it was him – he'd cave faster than Luisa to Antonio's puppy eyes.
"But I'm the Miracle Keeper!" Mirabel said, pressing her hands to her heart.
"Sí. You are. And as the Miracle Keeper, you have a responsibility to be well educated. Now," Julieta said with a grave air of finality, taking Mirabel's face in her floury hands and kissing her on both cheeks - "Go to school. Do your best on your test, my brilliant, creative, beautiful, miracle keeper daughter. We will update you when you get home. And in the extremely unlikely event that Bruno's vision comes to pass while you're at school, I will come get you myself."
"Knock knock knock knock knock, knock on wood," Bruno glared at Julieta, rapping his knuckles on the table and his head and grabbing the salt shaker to toss some salt over his shoulder.
Julieta wrinkled her nose at him in return and shooed Mirabel out the door.
Bruno sat beside Lucía at the long rectangular table in Señor Muñoz' home. The council had agreed to a private emergency meeting where Bruno explained his vision, laid out the tablets, and answered as many questions as clearly as he could. They'd chosen the Muñoz vineyards because they were out of the way and they were less likely to draw attention to an impromptu council meeting there.
Bruno noticed that Lucía studiously avoided eating any of the obleas, jam, and grapes set out on the table as refreshments.
"…and you don't know when, exactly, this will happen, Señor Madrigal?" Señora Villanueva asked again, tilting the tablet of the road disappearing back and forth.
Bruno sighed. They'd been at this for nearly an hour. "No. I mean - I assume it will happen sometime in the near future, because Tatiana Valencia is easily recognizable in it and mango season is coming up in a couple months. I mean," he rubbed his arm nervously. "I mean – technically, the mango the bird was eating could have been one Isabela grew out of season, or it could be one from outside the Encanto – somewhere else, far away. Or it could be from a mango season next year. Or - "
Lucía gently squeezed his knee under the table and he stopped talking.
They'd already gone around and around in circles, asking questions that Bruno could only answer half of the time. Lucía had stepped in and answered a few questions when he seemed to get overly flustered and looked to her in desperation, but – for the most part – she simply sat beside him and offered him moral support.
And now was the time he dreaded – when the simple logistical questions were out of the way and the harder 'what do we do with this information' questions began.
Thankfully they didn't seem to need his opinion, as they had plenty of their own to share.
"We need to stop travel outside the Encanto immediately. What if someone is in San Cristobál when the road disappears?!" That was Señora López, the elderly matriarch of the large farming family whose fields bordered Lucía's house. Señora López been with his madre on the night the Encanto was formed, and had taken her husband's spot on the council when he passed away several years ago.
In Bruno's opinion she was just as cautious as her husband, but with a much shriller voice.
"We cannot just 'stop all travel and trade'! We've got contracts to honor and orders to fulfill!" That one was Señor Muñoz, speaking on behalf of his family's pocketbook, of course.
"Who cares about your orders? Money is worthless if we can't get anywhere to spend it – and no amount of money is worth our homes and families."
"Who said anything about our homes and families? All I saw was the road disappearing and one family in trouble – Tatiana Valencia's."
"Mmm-hmmm. And those men in the truck looked like they were going to throw us a nice little welcome party, did they? Bring us some nice lil housewarming gifts?" Señora Villanueva leveled a look across the table at Muñoz.
"We don't know anything about them! We don't even know what road they were on! Do we?" Muñoz turned to Bruno.
"Ah – no - " he said.
"You see? And even if the road does disappear, that doesn't mean anyone will be unable to travel through the forest. It doesn't necessarily mean we'll all be cut off."
"It's a magic forest, Muñoz," Señora Álvarez said flatly. "We have no idea what it will mean."
Around and around they went, arguing about what the vision meant, its urgency, and what they should do about it. His madre gave her input when asked, but otherwise – surprisingly – stayed quiet.
"We don't know enough to make any long-term decisions," Señor Ruiz said, finally stepping in after trying and failing to indicate Alma should take the lead. "But I suggest we take some basic precautions while we wait for more information. Stopping all trade and travel may be the safest move, but how would we explain that decision? How would we enforce it? How long could we keep it up?" He shook his head. "It doesn't make sense to isolate our community again so soon after finally opening up to the outside world. It isn't healthy."
"And you know people would complain," Señor Muñoz said.
"Believe me, we know," Villanueva grumbled as she adjusted her glasses.
"But," Señor Ruiz continued, "Ignoring this vision and continuing on as though nothing has happened is not wise either. It would be a mistake to ignore this warning."
"But nothing has happened!" Protested Muñoz. "And the only ones in the vision – aside form a few animals and total strangers – are La Familia Valencia. Perhaps we should simply bar them from travel and trade for the foreseeable future."
Señora López bristled at that. "And why would we do that? As far as we know they've done nothing wrong. All we've got is a questionable vision and a 'feeling' that something is wrong, coming from a family currently in a feud with them." She glanced at Alma. "No offense intended, Alma."
Ma blinked at her, seemingly unflappable. "I am not offended. But I would like to note that we are not in a feud with her. Señora Valencia seems to insist that we are, but it is entirely one-sided."
"Why bring this to us at all?" Complained Muñoz. "Why not simply show Tatiana her vision, warn her she's going to be in trouble at some point, and be done?"
"Because she's connected to the road disappearing, and that affects us all." Bruno's madre replied with more calm and conviction than he'd have been capable of.
"How do we know she caused it, though? What if she's just – upset because the road disappearing separates her from her family? Maybe she's a victim of the road disappearing, not the cause of it?" Another council member – a younger one Bruno didn't remember the name of – spoke up.
"My point exactly," Muñoz said. "I'm no friend of Tatiana's, but shouldn't she be warned of this vision instead of blamed for it?"
Bruno swallowed and stared at the glass of water in front of him. Lucía shifted nervously beside him.
"Because the contract we approved protects Señor Madrigal from those who actively seek a vision from him," Señora Álvarez said quietly. "Tatiana Valencia has not sought a vision, and is, in fact, barred from seeking a vision and from all other Madrigal services at the moment. What will she do if we send Bruno Madrigal to her to tell her she and her family will be heartbroken, and the road to the Encanto will be gone?"
The question flew into the room on her soft feathery voice and settled onto everyone's shoulders like a burden, and it only grew heavier in the silence that followed it. Bruno tapped his fingers lightly on the underside of the table, knocking silently, and when he was done Lucía took his hand and held it between both of hers, running her thumb soothingly over his knuckles.
She gave him a small smile but he could see the line between her brows had only deepened since the meeting started.
"I will tell you what she will do," Alma said clearly in the quiet. Everyone looked at her. "If you send my son to her with an ambiguous but ominous fortune, she will blame Bruno for everything that is to come, make unspeakable accusations, and feel vindicated for every piece of gossip and slander she ever spoke and ever believed about him. She will abuse him in any and every way she believes she is capable of getting away with."
She looked around the table at the people surrounding them. "And if you desire to avoid panic about this vision, know that she would crow to the sun that Bruno cursed them all - that the road to the Encanto will disappear. It would be disastrous."
She met the eyes of everyone sitting around the table one by one until they all grew uncomfortable. "If ever I was a friend to you – if ever I treated you fairly and impartially in a disagreement – if ever I put the needs of this community above that of myself and my family – today I ask you to return the favor. Do not even suggest to my son that he speak to that woman about this vision unless you are willing to be there with him to explain how very little we know about what is going to happen and that what we do know is not his fault."
Bruno's heart hammered in his chest and he heard Lucía swallow beside him. He tried to catch her eye and she gave him a small, wavering smile.
Señor Ruiz sighed and broke the silence. "This is an urgent matter, but one with no clear direction on how to mitigate it. Telling Tatiana is an obvious solution, but has difficulties of its own to navigate. Perhaps we tell the town that Bruno had a vision about…trees in the road to San Cristobal; that it may be unsafe to travel and need repair in the near future."
"That may deter some people from traveling but not all. And if Tatiana has it in her mind to go, she will not let that stop her." Señora Álvarez said.
"Then…we…require permits for travel. For the safety of our people."
"And Tatiana never gets a permit?"
"That's hardly fair."
"Well what else do you suggest?"
Everyone was getting…cranky and all the council members looked like they were gearing up for yet another endless round of arguments.
Bruno had a suggestion.
He didn't like it, but he had one.
"I - I'll look individually." Bruno muttered, and he saw both his madre and Lucía startle and felt both of their eyes on him.
"What?" Señor Ruiz asked, and everyone else stopped talking.
Bruno forced himself to look up at his old teacher's face. Forced his shoulders to straighten. Forced his voice to steady. "I'll look. Individually. Tell them - I had a vision about trees in the road to San Cristobál, and that I think they will be dangerous, but I don't know when it will happen. That, at least, is true. Anyone who wants to travel out of the Encanto will need to get a vision first. I'll - see how it goes. Until we know more about – about what's going to happen."
"What?" Señor Ruiz asked again, and Bruno thought he might have actually made him speechless.
"You don't have to do this," Ma said quietly.
"Actually," Bruno said, feeling strangely calm, "I think I do."
Lucía's hand found his and he squeezed it. Funny that he was the one reassuring her, now. But it felt right, somehow. And inevitable. Like this was part of what the future wanted. "Put me on the schedule. The Madrigal schedule. We'll figure out – regular days and times. For the visions."
Everyone was silent for another moment, and then they all began talking again.
He looked at his madre, and she was staring at him. She had tears in her eyes. He wasn't sure if her expression was proud or deeply sad. He had a feeling he'd disappointed – or worried – her, somehow.
The council agreed on a plan of action.
His mother remained silent.
Great. Once again, he had failed in some indecipherable way.
"…will make sure someone is always with you, Bruno. They will sign the contract and you never have to look alone. You've done the Encanto a great service in warning us of this potentially dangerous situation and we will do our best to support you," Señor Ruiz was saying. "As for the problem of Señora Valencia - Tatiana is barred from Madrigal services and from council meetings for another… month, is it?" He looked to Señora Villanueva, and she nodded.
"She can appeal, but she will have to find someone willing to appeal on her behalf. Her husband will appeal for her eventually, and we'll have to tell them about their part in the vision then, but hopefully by then we'll have more – ah - information. You've bought us all – and yourself – some time."
Bruno nodded numbly.
Maybe he should feel relieved that he wouldn't have to knock on Tatiana's door to deliver a bad vision today, but Señor Ruiz was right – all this had done was buy them some time. All they'd done was delay the inevitable.
He looked at Lucía and her eyes were bright, her brows knitted together, and her breathing, deep and even, through her nose. She looked…angry, almost. Worried, definitely. She leaned forward and looked like she might hold his face in her hands or kiss him, and then - as though she remembered where they were, she settled for pressing his hand between both of hers again, instead.
She swallowed and stared at their joined hands. "If you're going to do this," she whispered as the council continued to make arrangements, "you have to let us help."
"Okay," he said.
"Bruno," his madre said that evening. They sat on the back porch together, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun set, on the eve of Bruno's first day on the Madrigal schedule. He would start tomorrow.
It was a full schedule. He'd still be able to help Lucía with her story times once or twice a week, and he'd still have time to help Lorenzo with the animals and the barn if he wanted to, and he'd still have time off, just like the rest of his family –
- but lazy mornings spent sipping coffee with whoever happened to linger at the table that morning and peaceful siestas with Antonio and everyday visits with Lucía and Josefina would be a thing of the past.
For now, at least.
It felt like he was a child again, all nerves and anticipation and doing his best to help the community with his gift.
It felt just like that.
And it felt nothing like that at all.
"Bruno," she said again, pushing her feet lightly on the ground to make the bench swing they shared sway back and forth. "You know I am proud of you."
The words sounded sweet but felt bitter going down. He'd heard that before, and it had always been tied to his performance; to visions he had no control over.
"Ma - "
"From the moment you took your first breath, I was proud of you, mijo. And I have always loved you. Nothing you did or didn't do has ever changed how much I love you." She put her feet flat on the ground, stopping their swinging abruptly. "Which is why – when you left – when I thought you'd left us – it broke my heart."
Bruno stared at her, his heart hammering in his chest. This conversation had taken a very unexpected turn.
"I am sorry I ever made you doubt that. I'm sorry I made you leave. Bruno," she said again, and her voice was urgent and pleading as she turned to look at him. "You don't have to do this…"
He studied her expression. "…but you still want me to." It wasn't so much a question as it was a prompting.
His madre tilted her head and sighed but she didn't deny it. She looked out over the garden, past it, toward the mountains. "I want my family to grow old together. I want to know that we will be safe – I want to know how we can protect ourselves from harm. I want all of these things very much - but not at your expense, Brunito. I do not want to trade your life – the life you have now; your happiness, your peace, your health - for someone else's."
Bruno's mouth moved without speaking for a moment. "I - "
"You're doing so well. You just came home. You never left the house, Bruno, but you only just came home."
She was trying very hard not to cry.
"Ma," he said.
And he stopped.
There was so much he wanted to say; so much he didn't know how to say. His mouth felt dry and his tongue felt heavy.
"Mamá," he tried again. "I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry. But you're right; I - I'm home, now. I won't – I won't leave again…"
She took out her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.
It was still strange to see her acknowledge her tears instead of hide them.
"…and I'm sorry I hurt you too, Mamá."
She dried her eyes and twisted her handkerchief in her hand.
"When you left," she whispered, "I thought - " her sniffed, and when she spoke, her voice trembled. "I was hurt, and I was angry, and I was worried, Bruno. I was so worried for you, but I also thought – how could my son – how could my Pedro's son - do such a thing to his family; to leave us in our hour of need?"
Bruno winced.
"I thought – Pedro would never be so selfish."
Bruno froze and his heart dropped and his nails dug into the fabric of his ruana on his lap. His jaw tightened and he curled in on himself, his arms trembling with the effort of not getting up and walking away. Hearing something so brutal from someone like Tatiana or another disgruntled vision seeker? It was hard, but he could take that.
He didn't think he could take this. Their relationship was still fragile and she was putting words to one of the biggest fears and criticisms he'd hit himself with in his ten years in the walls -
She reached out to cover his hand with hers.
"But I was wrong. You were never selfish, Bruno. You were hurt and alone - because of me. And you – you are more like your father than you know."
Oh.
Well then.
His heart nearly stopped in shock and then warmed, and his chest and face grew hot. It took his muscles longer to react and he had to take a few deep breaths before they relaxed.
He blinked and a tear slid down his cheek. He flipped his hand over to hold his madre's. Her skin was soft and papery with age, but her grip was still strong, like it had been when he was a child. Now it was gentle, too, though – a comfort, not a vice grip. He drew in a sharp breath and widened his eyes and willed the tears left to evaporate instead of fall.
"You're both so willing to sacrifice yourselves for the people you love. But our family – we don't need another martyr. We just need you."
"Ma - " he wiped at his cheeks in an effort to dry them.
"It is so strange to see your child choose a difficult path and wishing with everything you are that you could change it – and yet, being proud at the same time. I hope with all my heart that this will not be painful for you, mijo. I hope things will change. I hope things have changed, enough - and that you know you can ask for help, if you need it."
She sighed. "I wish you didn't have to do this Bruno. But I am also proud. You are a good man, Bruno, and I am proud of you. Your father would be proud of you, too."
She smiled up at him, and he stopped trying to dry his eyes. She opened her arms and he pressed his face into her shoulder and cried.
A/N: I wish I had some clever or pithy author's note joke to lighten the mood, but alas – I do not.
This is a bit of a mess but I promise everything happens for a reason.
Thanks for reading! God bless you and I hope you have a great weekend!