Mirabel is up with the sun, just as she has been for most of her life. Casita greets her like an old friend, and it makes her throat tighten and her eyes water, because she's honestly missed this. She's missed Casita.
The house shuffles her shoes over to her as she heads out the door. Out in the hall she immediately starts rapping on doors to wake everyone up as if it hasn't been almost a month since the last time she did this. It's not until she reaches the end of the hall-and Bruno's door-that she hesitates.
The floorboards rattle at her impatiently, and Mirabel squares her shoulders and steps forward, rapping briskly on the door as if she's been doing his as well as the others' all along.
She's at the top of the stairs when Bruno peeks around the corner, hair disheveled, looking not quite awake, a question on his face.
She grins at him when he meets her gaze.
"Good morning!" she calls.
"She does that," says another voice. Dolores is leaning on the frame of her own door, looking less awake than their uncle, but she never has been a morning person.
Bruno looks to the older girl, uncertain. Dolores yawns.
"She likes to wake everybody up in the morning. She knocks on the door and moves on. You don't have to actually answer it."
"Oh," he ducks his head. "Thank you,"
Dolores smiles at him before turning and disappearing back inside her own room, leaving the two of them alone once more.
"I don't have to do it," Mirabel offers. "If it bothers you."
"No," Bruno shakes his head. "That's okay. It's nice, being included. I just-" he shrugs, but doesn't finish his sentence.
"Then I'll keep doing it," Mirabel says. "Dolores is right, though. I don't expect an answer. See you at breakfast?"
He nods, then stands there awkwardly for another ten seconds before turning around and disappearing back into his room.
Mirabel continues down the stairs.
Breakfast is in the courtyard, same as ever. Mirabel busies herself making coffee, then helping set the table, then returns to the kitchen to see if Mama needs any help with breakfast.
"Morning, Mirabel." Mamá kisses her on the cheek.
"Good morning," Mirabel smiles back at her. "Need any help?"
Her mother points, and soon she and Mirabel are working side by side to finish the morning preparations.
The rest of the family has made it to the table by the time Mirabel finds her seat, even Bruno, who looks no more alert than he did when he answered the door earlier, but at least he's dressed and has actually combed his hair. He's nursing a cup of coffee while Antonio introduces him to a toucan, two capybaras, and a leopard.
Bruno nods politely to each in turn.
"Buenos dias."
Camilo is unsuccessful at hiding a laugh. Dolores elbows him as she sits down, prompting a "Hey!" that attracts both Bruno's and Antonio's attention.
Bruno takes a sip of his coffee.
"It never hurts to be polite," he says. He startles, though, when the leopard bumps its head against him, nearly dropping his cup.
"She likes you," Antonio says, smiling.
"Thanks," Bruno replies nervously, "Um, Toñito, she knows-does she know-the rats, I mean-"
"She knows not to eat the rats." Antonio says it as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "So do the others."
"Others?"
"The toucans," Antonio offers. "And the jaguars, and the panthers, and the bears..." he trails off. "I made sure they all knew the rats were your friends."
Bruno looks touched. "Gracias," he says.
Antonio smiles at him. "The leopard jokes, but she doesn't mean anything by it," he promises.
Abuela stands and says a few words to start the day. It's nothing like the speeches from before Casita fell. This is nowhere as grand, mostly about being thankful for family and second chances.
Bruno is actually eating, though likely still nowhere near as much as anyone would like. He manages a second, and then a third cup of coffee somehow, and completely ignores the reproachful way Mirabel's mom can't quite keep herself from staring at his cup.
They linger even after everyone has finished eating, no one entirely certain what to do next, now that Casita is back and the miracle is back and they all have gifts again.
Eventually Mirabel's mama pushes her chair back and starts gathering plates. This spurs everyone into action except for Bruno, still sipping at his coffee, his expression thoughtful.
Mirabel's surprised at how easy it is to slip back into their old way of life. Isabela heads for the garden, Luisa, Tía Pepa, and Camilo all head into town. She's pretty sure Dolores has retreated back to her room, and Mama's in the kitchen, baking.
Mirabel's watching Antonio play with his animal friends. Before he got his gift, she spent a lot of time looking after him. Now that he has it back, he doesn't really look any different.
He certainly doesn't look as like he should have to carry the responsibilities of a fully gifted member of the family.
She wonders if maybe she's just telling herself that so she won't feel useless. She supposes she'll have to figure out something eventually, but right now, at least, she can tell herself he still needs her.
It occurs to Mirabel that she hasn't seen Bruno since breakfast, and now she wonders how she could have forgotten him so easily. It makes her feel guilty-it is, after all, his first day back home with the rest of the family.
She wonders if it's okay to leave Antonio long enough to go looking for her uncle, but maybe her primo doesn't need her around anyway-he seems to be doing fine with his animals.
He just looks so young.
"Where are you going?" he asks, and she realizes she's gotten to her feet. She fumbles for briefly for an answer before giving him a smile.
"To see what Tío Bruno's up to," she says. "Wanna come?"
Antonio scrambles to his feet, his face lighting up. Most of his animals wander off as he joins her, but a few follow along.
They find him in the kitchen with Mirabel's mama. He's sitting at the the small kitchen table, rolling dough into small balls, watching his sister cook, yet another cup of coffee within easy reach.
He grins and sets aside a ball of dough as Antonio approaches, and no one's surprised when the boy climbs into his lap.
"Whatcha doing?" he asks, eyeing the balls of dough curiously.
"Making buñuelos," Bruno replies. "Wash your hands, and I'll show you."
Antonio practically jumps out of his lap. Mirabel hoists him up so he can reach the sink and grabs the dishtowel hanging just out of his reach.
As soon as he's done he's across the room and back in his uncle's lap.
Mirabel looks around, noticing the partially filled basket of food on the counter. "Are you going into town today?" she asks.
Mamá nods from the stove, where she's frying arepas. "And what have you two been up to?" she asks, turning her head and smiling at the sight of Bruno showing their nephew how to smooth bits of dough into small round balls by rolling them between the palms of his hands.
"Talking to the animals," Antonio replies promptly. "I missed them so much."
"Just keeping an eye on things," Mirabel admits. She feels silly admitting it. She wants to ask her mom a question, but she's not entirely sure what the question is, so she doesn't.
Bruno pauses to take another sip of coffee. Mama looks over and raises her eyebrows.
"Did you sleep at all last night?" she asks, and he shrugs.
"Maybe I just missed your coffee," he says, and his sister laughs.
"Mirabel made the coffee this morning," she says. Bruno turns to Mirabel and raises his cup as if toasting her.
"It's good," he says, but Mirabel's mamá shakes her head.
"I've seen you drink that stuff cold," she says. "I'm pretty sure you can't tell the difference between good coffee and bad."
He looks mildly offended at that. "I've had Pepa's coffee too, you know." he reminds her, and they both shudder.
"I thought I was having a heart attack." Mama says, and Bruno chuckles.
Mirabel has smelled her aunt's coffee. Once. That was all it had taken for her to decide to abstain. "I think I do an okay job," she says.
"You do a wonderful job, mija," her mom assures her. "But seriously, Brunito-"
"The sand kept me up most of the night," he admits. "I haven't had to hear it for ten years. I'll get used to it." He clears his throat and changes the subject. Sort of. "How was it, having your own room last night, Mira?"
Mirabel smiles. "I loved it. I almost didn't want to go to sleep, I was so happy. Everything about it is absolutely perfect."
He returns the smile.
Antonio decides he wants to go to town with Mamá when she's done cooking. Bruno decides to stay, and even offers to help clean up.
Mirabel stays too.
Bruno remains at the table even after the two have gone. He looks a little uncertain, maybe a little uneasy.
"You okay?" Mirabel asks.
"It's going to take some getting used to," he admits. "Being back."
"You seem to be handling it well."
He blushes, just a little bit. "If I'm being honest, I'm not entirely sure what to do with myself."
Mirabel considers this. "What did you do before?" she asks, and he snorts.
"Mostly avoid people, when I wasn't helping with you kids." He looks up, and something in his gaze softens. "Mamì would say you're all grown up now. Not really in need of a baby-sitter."
She sits down at the table beside him. "I'm not really sure what to do either. Antonio doesn't really need looking after anymore. Even if he still looks so little."
Bruno shrugs. "He's still pretty young," he says, his voice noncommittal.
Mirabel looks around, and figures she can at least start on dishes. She starts the dishwater, and goes around the kitchen gathering dishes while it runs.
Bruno slips into place beside her when she starts washing, towel in hand. For a moment the only sound in the kitchen is the clattering of dishes being washed, rinsed, dried, and put away.
"It almost feels like nothing's changed," Mirabel admits, breaking the silence between them. "I mean, you're back. Obviously. I don't know, I guess I just expected everything to be different, somehow. That there would be some noticeable change, some big sign, shouting that things had changed."
Bruno shrugs. "It was weird, waking up in my room after all these years," he admits. "For a moment, it felt like the last ten years were all a dream." He shoots her a sideways grin. "And then you came knocking on my door-that never happened, before."
"What about people asking for visions?" Mirabel asks, curious. Her tìo shrugs.
"Eh, they'd mostly stopped, by the time you were born. Better not to know, than to risk getting bad news."
"Do you think they'll start asking again?" Mirabel wants to know, and the smile fades.
"I don't-" he swallows nervously, but continues. "I hope not. I don't really want to do that anymore." Tension is building in his shoulders, and he's starting to look a bit trapped, so Mirabel leaves it alone.
"I wonder what Isabela's doing with the garden," she says, offering a distraction. "She'd just discovered a love for pointy things and plants that could eat you when the house collapsed."
Bruno chuckles, and allows the change in subject. "She used to make up plants, back when she was little, and insist I use them in stories. Not that I'm sure whether or not they were entirely made up, mind you, but there was one story where the evil witch ended up getting eaten by a giant plant. She and Dolores argued about it for the rest of the week. Dolores was certain plants didn't eat people." He shakes his head, and Mirabel laughs.
They finish the dishes in companionable silence. Mirabel sets about tidying the rest of the kitchen while her uncle retrieves what is now most likely a cold cup of coffee. She's a little impressed when he takes a sip and doesn't so much as bat an eye, even though it has to be nasty by now.
She's not sure what to do, once the kitchen is clean. She's always tried to keep busy, but right now she can't think of a single thing that needs done. They just moved in yesterday, and Casita is still new and shining and clean, so there's not much to do in the way of housework, and everyone else is already out and about.
She figures she can go into the village and see if anyone there needs help.
Mirabel turns to her tìo and is about to say as much when she realizes he's been watching her from his seat at the table. There's a knowing look in his eye, one that's a little bit fond, a little bit sad, and a little bit worried.
"You okay?" she asks, and he blinks.
"Yeah," he says, shaking his head as if to clear it. "You know you don't have to be productive every minute of the day, right?" he asks. "Pretty sure the whole point of losing our gifts for nearly a month was that things weren't sustainable as they were."
Mirabel feels caught. Maybe a little embarrassed. "It's been less than a day, and I'm already slipping back into old habits, aren't I?" She slides into the seat next to him. "I just-I'm not really sure what to do with myself now."
He tilts his head, humming just a little. "What would you like to do?" he asks.
Mirabel thinks for a moment, then shrugs. She feels silly. Definitely embarrassed. "I don't know," she admits. "I feel like I should be doing something."
"What about all that stuff in your room?" he asks. "You seemed in an awful hurry, trying to get everything put away last night."
Mirabel brightens. "I didn't want to be rude. I would like to organize everything, though. Make sure I can find stuff when I need it."
"Well, there you go," Bruno says.
Mirabel practically pops out of her chair and is halfway across the room when she turns back to her. "What are you going to do?" she asks.
He shrugs. "Still working on that, mija," he admits. There's a sudden strain to his voice, and she looks him over carefully.
"You could come with me," she offers, suddenly feeling just a bit shy. "If you want. Just to hang out." She smiles. "I wouldn't mind the company."
He favors her with a shy smile of his own. "I'd like that. Thanks."
Bruno pauses at the door and waits. At first Mirabel doesn't notice, because now that it's occurred to her she's super excited about organizing her room. She's got an idea, after last night, of what all she's got, and Casita's been pretty thorough. She's also got a vague idea for some new projects to work on, as soon as she figures out for certain exactly what she does and does not have.
The floorboards clatter at her meaningfully, and she looks back to find her tìo still standing in the same place.
"Come in," she says, almost laughing, because he looks a little like he's not sure he's welcome, in spite of the fact that she just invited him along.
The floorboards clatter again, reproachfully this time, and Mirabel reconsiders.
"You can sit on the bed, if you want," she suggests. "I'll probably end up on the floor before too long, but the bed's comfortable, and you won't have to worry about getting buried."
He can't quite hide his relief as he nods and crosses the room to settle on the edge of her bed, and Mirabel wonders if he half-expected her to change her mind and regret inviting him along.
She smiles at him, just in case, before turning her attention to the shelves and various bins containing hastily put away sewing materials from the night before. It's not long before she once again has everything dumped out in the floor and is sorting through it, partially in an attempt to properly inventory everything, but also to figure out where she wants everything placed.
Bruno is content to just sit and watch, and at first it feels a little odd, given that she's focused on her work and he doesn't seem particularly interested in striking up a conversation, but little by little she gets used to it, and after a while she's so immersed in what she's doing that she nearly forgets that he's there.
She's startled by the sound of the front door closing downstairs, and realizes as the sound of Antonio chattering brightly wafts through the halls that she's completely lost track of time.
Mirabel looks up, figuring Bruno has to be bored out of his mind right now, only to find her tìo has dozed off.
He must have scooted down off her bed onto the floor at some point, because he's currently sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. His head and back are propped up against the side of the bed, and his eyes are definitely closed.
She's not entirely sure how he's asleep after the amount of coffee he's gone through this morning, but it's nice that he feels comfortable enough to doze off in her room.
He shifts while she's watching him, and his eyes open. "Sorry," he apologizes, yawning.
Mirabel smiles before he can start to feel self-conscious. "You could have sprawled out on the bed," she offers. "It wouldn't have bothered me."
He ducks his head, but returns her smile. "I didn't mean to fall asleep," he admits.
"That's all right." She looks around. By now she's got almost everything sorted the way she wants it. There are a few things she hasn't made up her mind about yet, so she gathers them and sets them on the dresser near her bed. "Mama's back with Antonio. I was thinking about seeing if she needs any help with lunch."
Bruno climbs quickly to his feet as if he didn't just fall asleep on the floor of her bedroom and follows her out of her room, down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Mamá greets them cheerfully as they enter the room. Antonio, who is still with her, hugs Mirabel and then turns and promptly throws himself at Bruno.
Her five-year-old cousin has yet to notice how much his tío struggles to catch him, or how quick he usually is, after hugging him thoroughly of course, to either put him down again or lower the both of them to the ground where Antonio invariably ends up sitting in his lap.
This time Bruno opts to relocate them both to a chair. His arms are shaking just a bit as he listens to Antonio talk about his trip into town, and he ignores the way both Mirabel and her mother are watching him.
Mirabel's a little bit worried in spite of the fact that her uncle hasn't dropped him yet. If anything, she's worried about her uncle rather than her cousin-he always looks more than a little panicked when Antonio launches himself at the man, maybe even a little surprised when he succeeds in catching him.
Mirabel turns her attention back to slicing vegetables before Bruno can catch her staring. In her peripheral vision she sees her mother turn back to the stove.
Antonio continues telling his tío about the trip, oblivious to the concern of those around him, and Bruno's attention seems to be entirely devoted to his youngest sobrino.
"Oh, and we saw Ana!" Antonio beams up at his uncle. "Tía gave her some food, and her arm got better. It didn't even leave a scar or anything! She said 'hi'."
"Her father wanted us to tell you thank you," Mama adds. "He said he doesn't know what they would have done, if you hadn't been able to help her."
Mirabel wonders if her mother knows that the man initially didn't want Bruno's help. Or that he tried to blame Mirabel for the miracle going out. She hasn't said anything, and she's pretty sure Dolores hasn't.
Bruno's gaze flits nervously over to meet Mirabel's for a moment before darting away, and Mirabel is certain that he hasn't brought it up either.
"Just-just glad I could help," he says. Antonio hugs him.
"I love you, Tío Bruno!" he announces as his uncle returns the hug.
"I love you too," he says, and some of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders.
Sometimes Mirabel wonders if Antonio knows how much of a good influence he is on their tío. The man always seems just a little more relaxed when he's around, and out of all of them, Antonio seems to be the best at figuring out exactly how much physical contact he can deal with at a given point in time.
"The children kept asking for you," Mamá tells him without looking over her shoulder. "They wanted to know when you were going to come and tell them more stories."
Bruno chuckles nervously, but Mirabel is pretty sure that he's pleased, if a little embarrassed. His cheeks are slightly pink, but he doesn't look upset.
"I want a story," Antonio decides, snuggling even further into his tío's ruana. "Will you do Pobrecita?"
Mirabel has yet to see the man turn down a request for a story, and before too long the sound of his voice fills the kitchen, accompanied by the usual clatter of dishes as Mirabel and her mother work on getting lunch ready.
Dolores is the only other family member to join them for the midday meal. Bruno shoots her a sympathetic glance as she sits down, her mouth pressed together in a tiny frown.
"Headache?" he asks, the words hushed, and she shakes her head, albeit carefully.
"Everything just seems a little loud," she admits. "I got used to not being able to hear everything. Now there's so much to hear, all at once."
He nods, satisfied by her answer, and turns his attention to his plate. Mirabel looks over at her mother and sees the exact moment she stops herself from saying anything about the fact that he seems to be eating better today than he has in weeks, maybe even since he came back.
Antonio's looking at his sister, though, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "Why would your head hurt?" he asks, and beside him, Bruno tenses as if the question had been directed at him instead.
Dolores only smiles. "When you can hear everything all at once," she tells him easily, "sometimes it makes your ears tired.
"Oh," Antonio says, his expression clearing. Then he turns to their uncle. "Is that why your head hurt, when you were in the walls?" he asks. "Because of your visions?" He frowns, and before his tìo can come up with any sort of answer he asks, "What's a vision, Tío Bruno?"
Bruno pales, and both Dolores and Mama flinch. Mirabel's mother opens her mouth quickly, as if to intercede, but then her brother shakes his head.
"It's okay, Juli." He looks down at Antonio, whose eyes have gotten big. He seems to have realized he's said something to upset the people around him. Tears are threatening to form in those large eyes.
Tío Bruno leans over and awkwardly drags the kid in his lap, pulling him into a big hug.
"I'm sorry, Tío," he mumbles into his uncle's ruana. "The rats said-I didn't mean to upset you."
Bruno hugs him again, and sighs. "It's okay, Toñito. I'm okay."
"But you're upset," Antonio protests, pulling his face out of the man's chest so he can look up at him. "I don't want you to feel bad. You don't have to tell me about your visions if you don't want to."
Bruno smiles down at him, though it's a fragile sort of smile. "I don't mind telling you a little bit," he says. "It's not a secret, after all."
Antonio straightens, putting on his best listening face, and Mirabel can't help but smile at the sight, even if her mother still looks worried and her cousin is more than a little on edge.
"Now I don't know what the rats told you, mijo-" he begins, and Antonio interrupts.
"They don't really understand," he admits. "They just know that sometimes it makes you sick." He leans forward, as if sharing a secret. "They worry about you." Bruno clears his throat and looks uncomfortable for a moment, and Mirabel's pretty sure it's not at the revelation that his rats care about him.
"Sometimes it does," he admits. "But it's not something I want you to worry about. That was before. Everything's different now."
He says it like he means it. Dolores relaxes just a little bit.
Bruno looks down at his nephew. "My gift is that I can see the future. That's what the visions are-pieces of the future."
Antonio gasps. "Did you know we were going to lose our gifts?" he asks, and Mirabel flinches.
Their uncle chuckles nervously.
"Not really," he admits. "I saw that something was going to happen, but I couldn't really tell what. Or when." He shrugs. "That's the hard part about it, mijo. Just because I see something doesn't mean I understand it."
Antonio nods sagely. "There are a lot of human things the animals don't understand. And a lot of animal things I don't understand, even when they try to explain it to me," he says. "But why does it make you sick?"
"Because I can't always control it," Bruno admits, ducking his head, and Mirabel isn't sure, but she thinks she sees shame lurking in his eyes. "Sometimes I can make them happen, but sometimes they happen on their own, and sometimes they get-stuck, and it makes my head hurt." It's not the full truth, Mirabel can tell, but then, Antonio is only five.
"And makes you sick," Antonio adds, understanding even though his uncle didn't say it. "But when that happens, couldn't Tía Julieta make you some food to make you better?"
Bruno shakes his head. "It doesn't always work that way, mijo. Sometimes not even your tía's food helps."
Antonio looks thoughtful, like it's never occurred to him that his aunt's food might not be able to fix something. "Does anything help?" he asks. "Hugs?"
"Sometimes," Bruno admits, and Mirabel isn't sure she likes the way her mom is staring at the two of them like it's never occurred to her to ask the same question. "Sometimes it makes it worse, though," he adds, and Antonio nods as if he knew that already.
"I know sometimes you don't like to be touched," he says. "Does it hurt? Do your visions hurt?"
Mirabel's mom is starting to frown now, but Bruno only shrugs. "Sometimes," he admits. "But that's okay. Sometimes when you're playing you fall and skin your knee, and that hurts, doesn't it? But that doesn't stop you from having fun."
Antonio nods again, completely missing the look in his tío's eyes, the one that says the comparison does not fit his situation in the slightest.
He doesn't want Antonio to know how bad it really is, Mirabel realizes, and it makes her wonder just how much it hurts him, to have a vision.
She's not sure why the miracle would give someone a gift that would hurt them.
Antonio accepts the explanation without too much fuss, though, and doesn't appear overly upset by anything he's learned. As soon as lunch is over he's throwing himself out of his chair and darting out of the room, intent on finding his animal friends.
Dolores lets out a small, soft squeak, very much like the ones she so often uttered before Casita fell and excuses herself, though not before patting their tío comfortingly on the shoulder.
Mirabel's mother shoots an uneasy glance in her daughter's direction before turning her attention to her brother.
"Was that a good idea?" she wants to know. Bruno brings up one hand to massage his forehead, but doesn't immediately answer.
"I don't know," he finally says. "But he asked, and I didn't really feel like lying to him. Especially not when the rats can apparently tell him otherwise." He looks up at her. "I tried not to go into any more detail than I had to."
"Thank god for that," Mama murmurs, half under her breath. "Still, I don't know if Pepa's going to like him knowing that sometimes your gift causes you pain."
For a moment Bruno looks offended, but his expression evens out fairly quickly.
"We can't keep pretending that there's no downside to the miracle," he says, his words gentle. "We talk about it being a responsibility, and we talk about all the good the gifts can do, but we can't keep ignoring that there are times when it's unpleasant."
Mamá shakes her head nervously, but doesn't disagree, and Mirabel wonders what sort of downsides her mother's gift could possibly have.
She's never thought about it before. And honestly, before Luisa's confession, and before her breakthrough with Isabela, it never occurred to Mirabel that having a gift could be anything but wonderful. All she had known, growing up, was the pain of not having one. The thought that having a gift could be just as painful-
Well, she had seen the stress it put on both her sisters. And Dolores's admission today, that everything felt too loud, even as she assured their uncle that she didn't have a headache (which meant that sometimes she did get headaches from her gift), was another example of how having a gift wasn't all sunshine and roses.
Tìa Pepa's gift was another example of that as well. Often her gift was literally the opposite of sunshine, depending on her mood (and her control), and now Mirabel wonders if there's a reason her aunt always seems so high strung.
Mirabel offers to clear the table. Bruno follows her mother into the kitchen; he's helping Mama with the dishes when Mirabel joins them. Mirabel wipes down the stove and counters while they work.
Isabela appears just as they're almost finished, dirt under her nails and smudged on her face, pollen in her hair (and on her clothes), and looking just a bit embarrassed.
"I lost track of time," she admits, even as their mom waves her toward a plate of leftovers sitting on the counter. "Thanks,"
"Do you need me to reheat those for you?" Mama answers, but Isabela shakes her head.
"That's okay." She takes a large bite out of an arepa. It's a little bit funny, watching her formerly 'perfect' sister shove nearly a quarter of a slightly warm arepa into her mouth at once, and Mirabel has to resist the urge to laugh.
Isabela's eyes meet hers, and her first instinct is to glare at her younger sister. Then she shakes her head, and smiles, as the humor of the situation seems to catch up with her as well.
"Oh!" she turns to Bruno, swallowing quickly. "I almost forgot to ask if you wanted anything special in the garden out back. I know you like roses, but I didn't know if there was anything else I could grow for you-or if you'd like some space to grow something yourself."
"Mint," Mama suggests, because Bruno suddenly looks just a little bit like he's forgotten how to reply. His eyes are a little watery, and he's blinking rapidly, like he's trying not to make a big deal out of the question, and Mirabel figures he's not used to being included in stuff like this, even though he's technically been back with them for nearly a month, and they haven't exactly been ignoring him during that time.
It feels different though, having him back now, with Casita rebuilt and the miracle back, so Mirabel can't really blame him for getting a little emotional.
"Lavender," their mother continues thoughtfully, "Chamomile," she steals a look at him. "Weren't you obsessed with those marmalade bushes at one point?"
He shrugs, but seems to be recovering. "They're pretty," he says. Clearing his throat, he manages to meet Isabela's eyes, albeit briefly. "I'm sure whatever you decide to do will be nice," he says shyly, and his sister rolls her eyes at him.
Isabela grins. "Yeah, but I want to do something for you, Tìo. So it's whatever you want."
He immediately looks like he's going to start crying in the middle of the kitchen.
Mama shakes her head and pulls him into a hug. "He'll let you know if he thinks of anything else," she says.
Isabela looks from their mother to their uncle and nods before grabbing a second arepa.
"Thank you," Bruno manages.
Isabela looks over at Mirabel. "Anything you want? I can make you a corner too."
They end up outside, in a small corner of the garden, Isabela working on a section specifically for their uncle while Mirabel looks around, impressed, and notes that while the garden now looks more than a bit wild, there are still clear pathways through it.
There are cacti and sundew and a number of other plants Mirabel doesn't even know the name of scattered about, but there are also flowers everywhere, as well as fruits and vegetables. There's an herb garden for Mamá, and a huge section of flor de mayo, which happens to be both Tia Pepa and Abuela's favorite.
"This is amazing," Mirabel admits. Isabela smiles but doesn't look up from coaxing what look like rosebushes in several different colors from the ground.
"You don't think it's...too much?" There's a slight waver in her sister's voice, a shyness, and Mirabel understands. Before Casita fell the garden was always kept in perfect order, nothing out of place, and certainly never this wild. It feels just a little bit like the jungle, but on a smaller, more comfortable scale.
"I think it's perfect," Mirabel says, then winces at her choice of words, but then her sister is laughing and hugging her, so she must have said something right.
They break apart a little awkwardly. Even after a month they're still getting used to the thought of getting along, never mind actually wanting to spend time together. Isabela goes back to her roses.
"How many different colors are you going for?" Mirabel asks. She can already see red, pink, white, yellow, and orange blossoms, but her older sister doesn't seem done yet.
Isabela shrugs. "As many as I can. Here, look. These are tea roses."
The bush she's working with blooms as if on cue, revealing pale pink flowers. Their scent washes over Mirable in a delightful wave, and she can't help but breathe deeply.
"I want to get as many types of mint as I can, too," Isabela says. "Not just peppermint and spearmint. Lemon mint, chocolate mint-"
"There's a chocolate mint?"
"Yeah. It smells amazing. Apple mint, pineapple, mojito, margarita..." Isabela trails off, thinking. "I need something to keep them separate from everything else, though. Mint will take over, if you let it."
They ended up dragging some leftover pieces of wood from when Casita was being rebuilt into the garden and pushing them together to make a frame for the mint. They were both sweating, covered in dirt, and giggling by the time they were done.
Mama's for dinner has them both frantically brushing themselves off, as if it's going to make any sort of difference. Mirabel and Isabela catch each other at it and start laughing again.
They walk into the dining room hand in hand, neither willing to admit to the tension that seems to grow with every step they take but equally reluctant to face it alone.
The garden seems much farther away, and Isabela has to resist the urge to duck her head as first Mama, then Abuela look up and take notice of the girls' appearances.
Her mother, thankfully, looks mildly amused underneath a layer of concern. Abuela-
Abuela's disapproving scowl is notorious, and now everyone is staring. Mirabel stiffens beside her sister, and Isabela takes a deep breath, holding her head up and hoping it looks confident rather than rebellious.
Tio Bruno, coughs, fidgets, and promptly knocks over a glass of water. Isabela and Mirabel are promptly ignored as everyone tries to mop up the mess at the same time.
Everyone, that is, except Camilo, who is eyeing his uncle critically, and Papa, who is more likely to add to the chaos than actually help.
He smiles at the two girls, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and clears his throat.
"Why don't you two tidy up a bit," he suggests, kindly.
Isabela takes the opportunity to retreat, but a part of her wonders if her father were more worried about appeasing Abuela than what his daughters looked like. It's not a nice thought, but it's there all the same, and Isabela isn't sure what to do with it.
They make it back downstairs in record time. The mess is gone as if it never existed. Abuela spares them both a glance as they reenter but doesn't comment. Isabela settles into a chair next to Dolores and breathes a silent sigh of relief.
Dolores hears her, of course, and shakes her head ever so slightly. Isabela doesn't ask why. She doesn't really want to call any extra attention to herself after getting off so easily.
Abuela speaks for a moment before the meal begins. She's thankful for family, thankful for Casita, thankful for another chance. She's looking at Tio Bruno as she says it, but he's studying his hands where they lay folded in his lap as if they hold the secrets of the universe in them and misses the moment entirely.
It doesn't take long for people to start talking about the day, and it doesn't take Isabela long to realize that tonight's dinner conversation sounds very much like every other dinner conversation held around the table in as long as she can remember.
Mom took food to those who were injured. Luisa helped some of the neighbors with their chores. Camilo babysat a bunch of kids, entertaining them by shifting into various other people. Isabela herself spent a lot of the day gardening, trying to think of things the others would like so that everyone could enjoy the space.
She's not sure if she did it because she wanted to be nice, or because she wanted everyone to like what she made. She doesn't want to go back to life before the candle went out. Maybe it's selfish, but she wants to live her own life, be her own person. She doesn't want to just go along with what everyone else expects anymore.
Right now it feels like everyone else just wants things to go back to 'normal,' the way they were before, and Isabela can feel a sudden panic rising in her chest.
She takes a slow, steadying breath, forces herself to relax, and looks up to catch Tio Bruno watching her with the same intensity he earlier devoted to staring at his hands. Their eyes meet, and he tilts his head slightly, offering a wry smile.
Isabela offers a small smile of her own. Whatever else is happening, there's at least one person who doesn't want things to back to the way they were before. She looks at Mirabel, sitting next to their uncle (Antonio has of course claimed the other side) and watching the family interact with a bland smile and eyes that tell anyone who takes the time to notice that her mind is a million miles away (Isabela doesn't know how she didn't recognize it sooner, she herself has been a master of faking happiness for years).
Maybe two, she corrects mentally. She won't go back. She can't.
Disclaimer: Disney's Encanto does not belong to me.
Author's Note: I missed everyone! And writing. But sometimes life has other plans. Anyway, glad to be back. There's an update for Seer Survival Guide, and some Avatar: The Last Airbender if you're interested, and hopefully we're back for a good while.