Chapter 39
A/N: Hello!
Content warnings for this chapter: A brief mention of the loss of a young child; nothing graphic and it's no one you know.
Mirabel rapped rhythmically on the door to Bruno's actual bedroom, the last knock a solid thump with her hip instead of her knuckles. She bounced on the balls of her feet and hummed to herself as she waited for him to open up.
Which he would surely do.
Any minute now.
She bit her lip and frowned at the door, resisting the urge to knock again. It was already seven thirty, and he was on the schedule to start visions at eight.
Maybe he just needed to know it was her. She took a deep breath and filled her lungs, ready to call his name.
Bruno opened the door just as she began to shout for him.
"TÍO BRUN-"
He flinched away at her volume.
"-oh." Mirabel stepped back. "Oh - sorry. You were just – I mean, I was just trying to - you know. Make sure you were awake." She shook her head and gave him a bright smile. "Because today is a big, big day!"
He blinked at her.
Her smile dimmed a bit – less flashy and vibrant and more gentle and understanding. She didn't know it, but she looked so much like Julieta in that moment. "Your first visions this morning should be pretty easy. It's all people you've seen before. Señora Ruiz, and Señor García, and Señor Rojas – even if you tell them not to go into town, they won't be mad. They've signed the contract and you know Ma and Tía Pepa are rotating in and out as witnesses this morning. Nothing to worry about!"
Bruno leveled a very unimpressed look her way and promptly knocked on his door before throwing a pinch of salt and sugar over his shoulders. "Don't jinx it, Mirabel."
He crossed his fingers, held his breath, and stepped across the threshold, pulling his door shut behind him.
"…right. Right. Uh – sorry." Mirabel said. "So – like I said. Several people in the morning, and then a nice break for lunch and even a little siesta if you like! And then it'll be more – ah – open, in the afternoon. People can sign up this morning for the afternoon, and Abuela and Tío Félix will be here, and Señora Moreno of course, and then I thought, after school, I might come right home and I could - "
"No." His voice was flat, and when her face fell, he attempted to lighten his words with a tense smile. "I mean – no, thank you. And thanks. For the offer. It – it's real nice of you. It means a lot to me, really," he said, and she could tell that despite nerves making his words short, they were sincere.
He moved past her to the sandfall and door to the hallway and stopped short when he realized she wasn't following. "…you coming? 'Cause – you know – if we wait much longer Camilo's gonna hog all the arepas," he joked. "And I prefer my coffee hot."
Mirabel sighed and stared at the floor. She just wanted to help, and it seemed like no one wanted it, and that stung.
"Tío," she said quietly. "Why don't you want my help? Aren't I…I mean – did I mess up somehow? I thought I did okay with my own vision. I mean, sure, it still came true, but I helped! And then – with Señora Moreno – Lucía's – I helped then, didn't I? And when you first started doing them for other people again? I did good, didn't I?"
When she looked back up to her tío, he had turned to face her, his hands wringing in front of him.
"Of course – of course you helped," he said, and she had to strain to hear him, his voice so similar to the sound of the falling sand. He looked at her and the corner of his mouth tugged up into an affectionate smile. He stepped back toward her.
"You brought me home," he said, and his voice was stronger, now. "And you helped me use my gift again. You're - " he choked, and he reached out and patted her shoulder. "You did good, kid. You've done – real good."
Mirabel's smile wavered for a moment and then she pulled him into a tight hug. She must've caught him by surprise because he just sort of stood there, but after a moment he returned her hug with a strength she didn't know he had. And then he pulled away and cleared his throat and made a show of brushing invisible pieces of sand off his ruana.
"Then – why don't you want my help now?"
When he didn't answer right away, she stepped forward. "I can help, Tío. I know I can!"
He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled deeply, stretching his neck and looking up into the great domed ceiling of his tower. "I know you can, too," he said. "See, it's not a question of your ability, Mirabel. You're more than capable of helping. You - you are not the problem, here."
Mirabel crossed her arms in front of her. "…then what is?"
He sighed. "My visions can be…unpredictable."
Mirabel gave a little faux gasp. "No! Really? You mean you don't know what you're going to see before you see it?!" She smirked and leveled her most deadpan stare at him…and then it fell away at his expression. She felt a twinge of guilt for being sarcastic when he was obviously stressed out. Isa and Camilo must be rubbing off on her.
He snorted. "Not like – I mean obviously they – augh!" He started pacing. A few steps to the left, sharp pivot. A few steps to the right, pivot again.
Mirabel uncrossed her arms. She hadn't meant to make him more anxious. "I'm sorry, Tío. I didn't mean - "
"You're young and optimistic, Mirabel," he said, suddenly stopping and turning to her again.
"…thanks?" It didn't sound like a compliment, more like – an accusation.
"And this vision could go…in so many different directions. I - I've seen some things. And they were - hard to carry. Heavy. They don't leave you. And I don't – I don't want you to have to exchange your…youthful optimism for the burden of…whatever could happen in the future." He looked up at her, his expression almost pleading. "You understand?"
She did not. "Señora Moreno is optimistic too."
"Pbbft - yeah, but she's not young."
Mirabel raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips.
He froze and then immediately backpedaled. "Not that I mean she's old. I'm old. Well I mean I feel old. She's…what I meant to say is that she's older than you. She's had more experience with these sorts of things. She's…" he deflated a little bit. "Please don't tell her I said that. I didn't mean it like that."
Mirabel smiled. "I know. I won't."
Bruno breathed a sigh of relief. "What I mean is – all the adults helping me? Your ma and pa and Pepa and Félix and Abuela and Lucía? They've all – they're all – we're all just trying to protect you. Let us carry this heavy…thing. Because once you pick it up, it – it's hard to ever put down again. One day you'll be able to help us carry it, but for now – just – trust us, okay?"
Mirabel held his gaze for a long moment. He was so earnest. "Okay," she sighed. "I'll trust you. And Tío?"
"Hmmm?"
"I love you."
He smiled, his hand already on the doorknob. "Love you too, kid."
It only took two days for the town to adjust to Bruno being on the Madrigal schedule. Some were less than pleased about the arrangement. Some were frustrated they had to consult him before leaving town; some were unhappy that his visions were now exclusively for trips out of town and not for anything else. Most, however, accepted it without fuss and some were even eager to come to him.
He looked regularly into trips to San Cristobál and the majority of trips were fine. Anything negative he saw was minor – a bolt of cloth falling into a mud puddle here, getting into (and losing) a fist fight at a bar, there. Anyone that even looked at him sideways was kept in line by Pepa's thunder, or his madre's intense, no-nonsense gaze. Juileta could be surprisingly intimidating when she wanted to be. Lucía had a way of empathizing with the vision seeker while also staying firmly on Bruno's side and interpreting things in the best possible light – he thought that was a little magical in its own right.
Félix and Agustín helped too. Félix often started talking before the vision seeker could, cheerfully thanking them for visiting, reminding them to thank Bruno, and seeing them out before 'gracias' was past their lips. Agustín distracted anyone from Bruno by redirecting all of their attention onto himself – he'd fallen into the stream surrounding the sand circles several times, had caught himself on fire via one of Bruno's leaf piles twice, and somehow - even though Bruno swore up and down he'd never encountered even one in his vision room before – Agustín had gotten himself stung by several bees.
As far as Bruno knew, Tatiana hadn't even sought out a vision yet. There was now someone stationed on the road out of town reminding people to get a vision before leaving, and no one had noticed her trying to leave.
Some people who were not interested in seeking out a vision from Bruno – or who were banned from it – sought proxies to do their business for them. Osvaldo in particular became a sort of letter carrier for the town. At least twice a week he'd consult Bruno for a vision and travel to San Cristobál to browse shops and stalls for new items for his gift baskets. While he was there, he'd also deliver and pick up letters or small packages from those in the city and bring them back to the Encanto.
Lucía was one of those who asked him to do business for her in the city. She asked Osvaldo to collect Bruno's birthday present from Selena de Leon. She said she was just too busy to go herself, but Bruno could tell she was trying to keep from adding any stress to his life.
He felt a bit guilty about it, but when she told him she wouldn't be leaving the Encanto, he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Mamá!" Josefina called impatiently from somewhere downstairs. "Mamá! It's time to go!"
Lucía finished applying the mascara that Ana had let her borrow and inspected herself in the mirror. She smoothed her hair into place and patted her cheeks and popped her lips, being sure the lipstick she'd bought the last time she was in town stayed in place. It had only been a couple of weeks, but it felt like so long ago.
The days had passed faster than one of Pepa's whirlwinds and today was the triplets' birthday. It was their first birthday together after ten years apart, and as such, the family had lots of plans for them – plans that started small and soon grew to typical Madrigal proportions.
Lucía fluttered her eyelashes at her reflection and then snorted and rolled her eyes at herself. She was so excited for the party – for a chance to relax and celebrate and just enjoy spending time together. It would be such a good break for all of them.
Bruno had been working so hard. There were shadows under his eyes again. Those dark circles under his eyes that had lightened in the first months she'd known him had now grown darker again. She knew he wasn't sleeping well, despite the visions going as well as could be expected so far. She suspected he spent several hours a night looking into the future, trying to unearth more pieces of it in an effort to understand what his vision meant. But if he had, he hadn't said anything to her about it.
Maybe he was just afraid of having more visions in his sleep.
Tatiana hadn't approached him yet, but the knowledge that eventually Tatiana would request a vision and things would get significantly more complicated loomed over them all.
But today – today was a day to temporarily forget about the shadow the future cast into the present. Today they would celebrate the reunion of a family and the birthday of three people who had grown very dear to her over the past six months.
Josefina showed up at the door to Lucía's bedroom to interrupt her thoughts. She cradled Bruno's carefully wrapped present in her arms. She'd insisted on wearing her hair in a 'fancy updo' like her mama, and it made Lucía's heart squeeze to see her looking so grown up.
"I don't wanna be late! Let's go!"
Lucía laughed and grabbed her own gift. They said good-bye to José, who would be joining them later that evening, and then they were out the door and on their way.
Originally the family had wanted to keep it a small celebration, just the Madrigals – though they assured Lucía she was invited, too. It was meant to be small, a private party.
But then, of course – as it was wont to do - one thing led to another. Señora Guzman had mentioned bringing her famous salpicón to the party and Señora García had offered to sing with the band and Osvaldo assumed they'd want a giant order of party decorations. By the time they realized they'd have to cancel a party they never planned on having in the first place, half the village had already RSVP'd.
So, naturally – they were having a party in the evening and the entire village was invited.
But the day? The day was for the Madrigals alone.
This morning Lucía had given them all some space to just be together as a family, and now she and Josefina would join them at Casita for lunch. They would have a few hours with the family, a small private party, and then in the evening the entire town (give or take a few families) would descend on Casita to celebrate the triplets' birthday.
The Encanto had always celebrated their birthday with fanfare – at least when they were children. Even in her grief, as the first anniversary of Pedro's death and the founding of the Encanto approached, Alma didn't want her children's birthday to be a day of mourning. And so the Encanto celebrated the triplets' birthdays first, with a big celebration.
The first Sunday after their birthday every year was El Día del Recuerdo, the Day of Remembrance.
That – that was a solemn day to honor Pedro's sacrifice and remember those who were lost during the founding of the Encanto and those who had been lost since.
Something heavy grabbed hold of Lucía's heart and tugged on it, but she shook it off with a roll of her shoulders as they neared Casita's doors.
Today was a happy day, and she was determined that her own mood would match it.
Bruno was in the courtyard with the rest of the family, laughing as Isabela and Camilo argued about some prank Camilo had played on all three of the triplets earlier that morning.
Lucía felt some of the tension in her shoulders leave her and she smiled. It was good to see him laughing. He'd been so serious lately.
"It's not my fault Isa!" Camilo complained. "How was I supposed to know Mamí's lightning would strike that exact spot when she was surprised? Just grow another one of your fancy cactuses!"
Isabela glowered at him. "I'll tell you right where I'll grow another one, you little - "
"Feliz Cumpleaños, Bruno!" Josefina cried as Casita pulled her and Lucía in. "I've got your – oh!"
Casita pulled her right over to a table with a small stack of presents on it, and Josefina carefully set hers beside the others.
"Don't let it fall, Casita," she said seriously, and Casita lifted a tile in mock salute.
Lucía set her present beside Josefina's, and the little girl spun around and launched herself at Bruno.
"Hola, Bruno!" She shouted, and when he winced, she lowered her voice. "Feliz Cumpleaños! Are you having a good day?"
Bruno's mouth twitched up into a half-smile and he nodded, hugging her with one arm in return. Lucía tried to study him discreetly as Casita deposited her beside the two of them. He looked tired but happy.
"I can honestly say it's the best birthday I've had in over ten years. Maybe in my whole life." He looked from Josefina to Lucía with a small but sincere smile, and she suddenly felt like she might cry. She blinked rapidly and smiled back and pushed the feeling away.
Today was not a day to cry. There would be plenty of time for that on Sunday. People wouldn't question it, then.
Would they?
"Lucía," he said, and she really looked at him.
She couldn't get over how tired he looked.
But he was still happy. Relaxed. He wasn't twisting his ruana in his hands or bouncing nervously or attempting to knock on his head. He was okay.
He was okay, and she was okay, and everything – everything would be okay.
When her eyes met his, his smile widened, and a little color came into his cheeks as he took in the rest of her appearance. "You dressed up," he said, almost shyly.
She felt her face grow warm and she smiled. All that mattered today was Bruno and his sisters. If they were happy – if they were well – that's what was the most important thing. "Of course I did," she said. "It's a very special occasion."
"I dressed up too!" Josefina said, lifting her chin and stepping away from them to pirouette and show off her hair and favorite indigo dress.
"Yes you did," Bruno said, nodding. "You look like a princess."
"Like a real lady!" Josefina agreed. She leaned forward and motioned for Bruno to lean down, which he readily did. She noticed Lucía watching them and frowned at her, pulling Bruno a few steps away.
Lucía could still hear her loud whispers perfectly well.
"Mamá said once I have my quinceañera I can wear makeup like she does on special occasions. But that's nine whole years away! I tried to eat lots of berries at breakfast to make my lips red but it just washed off when I washed my face this morning."
"Oh. Ah - "
"She said I look perfectly like a lady without makeup but so does she! But I think you should tell her how beautiful she looks because she was looking at herself in the mirror a lot before we left."
"Josefina!" Lucía gasped, embarrassed.
Josefina looked over her shoulder and flashed her madre a sheepish grin but pressed on. "But you know what the bad part about lipstick is? It comes off super easy when you kiss someone. She kissed me on the cheek already and had to wipe it off me and so you better watch out. You'll have lipstick kisses all over and then all the ladies will be chasing you around with handkerchiefs trying to get it off."
Bruno snorted and then looked from Josefina to Lucía with a look of exaggerated horror on his face.
"No," he whispered. "Not ladies with handkerchiefs."
"OoooOOoooooOOOooo," Josefina said, pulling her handkerchief out of her pocket, waving it around, and making a noise like a spooky ghost. "Come heeeeerrrreeee, Bruno. Let me get that for yoooouuuuuu."
"Ah," Bruno said knowingly. "But you forget – I have someone very brave to protect me."
Josefina's face lit up as Bruno turned on his heel and threw up the hood of his ruana. "It is I! Hernando de La Roya, and I am afraid of nothing! Not even ladies wielding handkerchiefs!"
Josefina grinned and got into character herself, rounding her shoulders and squinting up at him, transforming herself into the semblance of a little old lady. "Oh, my, what a brave young man," she said. "Have you seen another man come by here with lipstick kisses all over his face?" She waved her handkerchief at him.
Lucía couldn't help but laugh at their performance. Josefina went from regal lady to ghost to little old lady in the span of two minutes.
"No, Señora Vieja," Bruno-as-Hernando said, shaking his head and crossing his arms. "I have not seen such a man here."
"Well," Josefina said, "Then I suppose I'll have to go find him!"
"Hernando wishes you good luck, Señora!" Bruno called as she spotted Antonio, abandoned her character, ran off, and waved.
The moment he turned back to Lucía, her arms were around his shoulders and her face was buried in his neck.
"Lucía?" He asked.
It took her a moment to answer.
"Feliz Cumpleaños, Bruno," she finally whispered. "Te amo."
The kids did the majority of the cooking for the triplets' birthday lunch, and they'd done a fantastic job. Camilo in particular wowed everyone with his version of coconut rice and chicken with a mango aji. Everyone laughed, everyone smiled, everyone teased and toasted. The last time everyone had been this happy had been the day she and Bruno announced they were courting.
After lunch it was time for the gifts. They moved everyone to la sala and placed the triplets on chairs in a line, side by side, to open their presents. Alma sat nearest to Julieta, then Pepa in the middle, and Bruno on the other end. Lucía sat beside Bruno, and everyone else crowded around in a misshapen circle to watch the three siblings open their presents.
Mirabel's gifts were on the top of the stack of presents.
"You have to open them all at the same time," she said, adjusting her glasses and then leaning forward and rubbing her hands on her skirt. Lucía thought she looked a little nervous.
Each triplet put their gift in their lap, untying the ribbon that held the box closed and unfolding the tissue paper that lay inside, cradling the gift.
"Oh," Bruno breathed, and something in his voice caught as he looked up at Mirabel. His face was slack with shock and some powerful emotion welled up behind his eyes.
"It's beautiful, Mirabel, gracias!" Pepa cooed, and she and Julieta complimented the designs and the details and held up their gifts for all to see.
A custom-made plate for each of them, with personalized symbols adorning the border and their name written in Mirabel's pretty handwriting, to replace the plates they'd all lost in the fall of Casita.
Bruno stared down at his box; his trembling hands made the tissue paper rustle.
"Bruno?" Lucía asked softly from beside him.
He darted a look at her and then shifted slightly, tilting the box so she could see his plate.
It was a lovely mix of greens and maroons and browns, vines and leaves and emeralds, with subtle hourglasses and rat shapes throughout the border. Just like his sisters', his name was written across the bottom of the plate in Mirabel's careful, flowing script.
"Oh," Lucía said, and tears sprang into her eyes. She knew how much that plate meant to him – she knew what not having it, what not having a place at the table, a place in the family had done to him. "Bruno, it's beautiful."
He nodded numbly in agreement.
"Tío Bruno?" Mirabel asked softly, and suddenly she was crouching down in front of him. "…are you okay? Do you like it?"
He nodded. "I - " He cleared his throat.
The room was quiet, and everyone was looking at him now.
" – I – needed this," he said softly, and he smiled at Mirabel. "I didn't realize I did until you gave it to me, but – gracias, Mirabel. It's – perfect."
He pulled her into a quick hug, carefully balancing the box on his knees, and she squeezed his shoulders tightly. "I'm glad you like it, Tío. You'll always have a place at the table."
And Lucía – she knew what Mirabel was really saying. What Bruno was hearing.
You belong here. I see how brave you've been, and I'm glad you're home. We all want you here, home, with us.
There was an awkward silence for a moment as tío and sobrina had their moment. It was obvious most of the family had no idea how significant the plate was to him.
"Geez," Lucía heard Camilo mutter from his perch on the couch beside them, "I guess I should've gotten tío some silverware or something. Maybe a nice bowl or a mug. Who'd've guessed he'd like a plate so much?"
Dolores elbowed him and he protested, but Mirabel pulled away and adjusted her glasses with a smile and said she didn't want to spoil the surprise but everyone in the family would be getting a plate soon, and then the moment was gone. Agustín was already handing the triplets their next gifts, and Bruno smiled at his plate before carefully wrapping it back up and setting it safely beneath his chair.
After a few more presents were opened, it was his turn to open Lucía's gift.
He unwrapped it and when he saw the cover, his mouth dropped open in surprise. He ran his fingers over the title page – La Princesa y El Pirata – complete with a sketch of the rats Lareina and Lorenzo as Imelda and Ramon, dressed in their pirate garb and looking suitably dramatic – at least, as dramatic as a rat can look illustrated on the cover of a manuscript.
He looked from the book to Lucía and then back down to the book again. "Is this what I think it is?" He said, and his mouth twitched into a smile that grew more incandescent with every turn of the page.
He flipped through the book, one hand reverently turning the pages while the other rubbed over his chin, hiding his grin with his fingers. "You - " He laughed delightedly at a sketch of Lareina looking dramatically over the ocean from the bow. "You made this? For me?"
Lucía grinned back at him. "I commissioned it for you. From Selena. She did a fabulous job, didn't she?"
"Yes!" Bruno laughed and clutched it to his chest. "I love it! It's perfect! Gracias, Lucía!"
"De nada, Bruno. I'm very glad you like it. To remember our first story together." She hesitated a moment, and then added shyly, "…the first of many, I hope, to come."
He looked up at her and held her gaze, suddenly serious, and she felt her cheeks grow warm at his expression. "Yes," he said solemnly, a disbelieving smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "The first of many."
He leaned forward slightly, and she thought he might kiss her – but then – "Knock knock knock knock knock, knock on wood." He knocked rapidly on the chair he sat on and on his head and then looked at her sheepishly.
"…those there were kissing words, bro," Félix said with a laugh.
"Oh – ah - " Bruno ducked his head, embarrassed.
"It's fine, really - " Lucía said.
"Allow me to demonstrate," Julieta said – and she stood, reached over to Agustín, and pulled him off his chair. "Gracias, amor," she whispered. She framed his face with her hands and stood on her tiptoes and pulled him down into a kiss, which he enthusiastically returned, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"Pepi, mi amor - " Félix barely got the endearment out of his mouth before Pepa was bestowing a kiss on him.
The kids were screeching and laughing and protesting and Bruno chuckled and looked to Lucía in the chaos. She smiled at him and inclined her shoulder in a sort of 'why not' shrug, and he pulled her in for a kiss of their own.
"Gracias, Lucía," he whispered when it ended, their noses still touching.
"Happy Birthday, Bruno," she whispered in return.
"LIPSTICK KISSES!" Shrieked Josefina, and held up her handkerchief in triumph.
Josefina's gift was the last to be opened, though she did not seem to mind in the least.
She'd gotten him a copy of a recent record from a popular group called Los Panchos, and as soon as he opened it she rushed to his side. She held her breath, hands clasped before her and her eyes wide, and Bruno knew at once what she wanted.
"Hmmm, Josefina. What do you think? Should we have a listen?"
She nodded twice, sharply.
"…and," Bruno added casually, "should we maybe…dance?"
Her face broke into a huge smile, and she nodded enthusiastically.
They wasted no time in setting it all up and clearing space in the courtyard for everyone to dance.
He danced with Josefina first, of course, and Lucía watched, her heart lifting with every giggle and twirl and exclamation of joy from her daughter while in the arms of the man who would – Lord willing - some day become her papa.
When the first song ended, they stopped right before Lucía. Josefina was breathless and flushed from the dancing and grinning so widely her cheeks looked like two plump little strawberries.
"D'you like my present, Bruno?" She whispered, looking up at him with eager expectation on her face.
"I love it, fresita," he said, and he brushed his thumb over her cheek and birthmark with tender affection. Josefina beamed at him, wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed tightly, and then grabbed her mother's hand.
"Let's all dance together, next song," she said.
And they did.
"…it means youthful. Or Jove's child." Julieta lifted her chin proudly.
"Well isn't that nice!" Pepa snickered. "It fits you so well. Julieta, with her healing food keeping everyone young and healthy and fit as a fiddle, daughter of a god – a little princess."
"Stop," Julieta laughed, feigning tossing the pillow she was leaning against at her sister. "You know I was named for our bisabuela. The meaning of the name," she sniffed, "is just a nice bonus."
"And how about your name, Pepa?" Lucía asked, stifling a yawn and pulling the shawl Pepa had loaned her just a bit tighter around her shoulders. She snuggled into Bruno, fighting off the chill of the cool night air. "Were you named for anyone in particular?"
The party this evening had been a huge success and was still winding down. Food and music and drinks flowed freely all evening, supplied by the people of the village, and Lucía was fairly sure there were still some younger couples dancing under the stars in the courtyard. She wasn't sure what time it was, but it was well past midnight. Josefina was asleep in Antonio's room, along with a few other little primos from Félix's side of the family.
All evening the triplets and their significant others had navigated congratulations and well wishes and neighbors reminiscing, and when Bruno tired of it, he'd escape to the patio or the balcony and wedge himself into a corner in the shadows, content to watch and breathe – a moment of stillness and peace in an otherwise very loud and busy day.
Everyone would let him have his space, and then seek him out after some time had passed. Eventually, though, everyone was as tired as him. Lucía had found him shivering slightly in the corner on Casita's back patio an hour or so ago. She'd told him he should go to bed if he was cold and tired, but he gave her a smile and pulled her close and buried his face in her neck. He said, very quietly, that he wasn't quite ready yet.
It wasn't that he wanted to stay up and party – it was that he didn't want to go to bed.
He couldn't see her at that moment with his head on her shoulder, but her face fell as she understood that he wanted this day, and this night - with its happiness and peace and freedom from the unrelenting urgency of his vision schedule - to last just a little bit longer.
And so she pulled him to the small, Casita-contained warming fire someone had lit on the patio and settled onto one of the benches. She pulled her feet up onto the bench and they snuggled into each other. He rested his head back onto her shoulder, and she stroked his hair and held his hand as they talked about everything and nothing at all. Eventually Pepa came with shawls and Julieta came with buñuelos and pandebono and their husbands came with pillows and blankets and wine. The six of them sat around the fire and watched the stars and together, they fought the break of dawn.
"One of Papa's sisters," Pepa answered after a long moment, in answer to Lucía's question, "had always loved the name María Josefa. They called me Pepa from the moment I was born, though. Mama said Papa took one look at me and knew I had to be Pepa."
"It means glorious goddess of a woman," Félix said with confidence and a mischievous smile that showed he knew he was spouting nonsense. "An angel. The sun itself. A dream!"
"In your eyes, maybe," Pepa laughed as he kissed her shoulder. "I think it means something like God will - improve? God will bless? It's been ages since we all looked it up."
Bruno snorted.
Pepa whipped her head to him and glared. "What was that for? Something funny, Brunito?" But the curve of her mouth made it obvious that she was only playing at being offended.
He sat forward and smirked. "Yeah, you got the 'Josefa' part. But 'María,'" he said haughtily, "means bitter and rebellious."
"María means beloved, you pequeño pelota presumido." She fired back.
"Me? A smug little idiot?" Bruno pressed a hand to his chest. "Someone sounds a little bitter to me."
"Well it still beats what yours means." Pepa made a face at him. "Señor Brown."
"Is that what it means?" Lucía asked, struggling to stay awake. She was beginning to regret that glass of wine. "Well, I love it. It's a great name. Matches mine. Moreno. And Bruno. Bruno Bruno Bruno," she sighed. "I love your name."
"Thanks," Bruno said with complete sincerity. "I got it for my birthday."
There was silence for the span of five seconds and then they all burst into stilted, snorting laughter.
"Trust me!" Bruno reassured them, still laughing under his breath when the rest of them had all stopped groaning and giggling. "It's gonna be a thing someday. A line. You'll see."
They all fell into comfortable silence again, halfway to dozing off, when Bruno spoke again.
"It…doesn't just mean 'brown'," he whispered.
"…what else does it mean?" Lucía asked.
"…it does mean brown, but…also…it could come from the word brunna."
After a moment of silence, Félix spoke. "You say that like we're supposed to know what that means."
Bruno shifted and Lucía stretched and blinked sleepily at him.
"Oh. Uh - it's an old Germanic word. Means…armor. Or…protection."
Everyone was quiet for a moment.
"Well then," Lucía said softly, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "It suits you."
He sighed.
She frowned into the dark.
She got the distinct impression that he wished it didn't suit him quite so well.
The triplets' birthday was on a Tuesday. Wednesday was spent recovering from their birthday, and the next few days were spent preparing for the Encanto's Día del Recuerdo.
The brief interlude of celebration and relaxation that was the triplets' birthday was over, and the mood of the entire town changed to one of solemn reverence as the next holiday approached.
The somber tone of the town didn't help the feeling of melancholy that weighed on Lucía's shoulders like load of sand. As Día del Recuerdo grew closer and the village prepared to honor their lost loved ones, Lucía's heart grew heavy with grief and tired with the stress of seeing Bruno struggle with his visions.
The birthday celebration had been good for him – for all of them. He'd slept long the next day, as had just about everyone in town, and then got right back into his visions. And although he, too, was solemn with his new responsibilities and with the upcoming day that honored his father, in particular, he also seemed…at peace with it, somehow.
"We're talking about him, Luci," he told her as they arranged the items on her mantelpiece in honor of her departed family members. On Día del Recuerdo* it was Encantan tradition to display photos and mementos of those who had died, to remember their lives by telling stories with family and friends, and to attend a special candlelit Mass.
"Everyone's asking questions and talking and yeah, sometimes it's sad and sometimes Pepa storms a little and I've never seen Ma cry so much, but – it's so good, Lucía. He was a carpenter for a living – but did you know his real passion was writing?"
"Really?" Lucía asked as she organized some of the personal effects of Alejandro and her madre they'd collected from around the house – her madre's decorative comb and favorite book of poetry; Lucía and Alejandro's wedding rings. She'd worn her wedding ring for a year after he'd died, and then - when her fingers grew thinner and she grew afraid that it would slip off and she'd lose it – she kept it safely in a wooden box with Alejandro's.
There had been a time when she tried wearing the rings on a necklace, but the weight of them over her heart just acted as a constant reminder of her grief, and so in the box they stayed. She kept the box with their rings on her dresser, but always brought it out to place on the mantel for Día del Recuerdo. A box full of Alejandro's work and sketchbooks sat beside the couch, along with a pile of letters her mother had written to her father when they were courting, and a blanket her madre had woven as a young woman was spread over the couch.
"Yeah! He, uh – he wrote more, um, essays and poems than telenovela-style dramas but hey! It's – it's something we have in common, you know?" He said softly, using his fingers to adjust the chain of her madre's favorite necklace until it was just so. Beside him, Lucía laid out her madre's favorite saint medal – St. Francis de Sales.
"What's this?" He asked as he held up a small, embroidered square of cloth – not quite a handkerchief, more like a carefully preserved piece from something else. It was a soft, worn blue and had a name stitched on it in black thread – Felipe Luis Hernandez, 22/09/1898.
"Oh," Lucía said, taking the cloth with reverence and smoothing it out beside her mother's things. "That's my brother's."
It took a moment for him to process what she'd just said. "…your…you have a brother?"
Lucía bit her lip as she searched for the words to explain. "Before I was born – before the Encanto was born – my parents had a son - a boy named Felipe." She gave Bruno a sad smile. "My older brother. They all had to flee from the violence. They were traveling, on the run for months…and he didn't make it. This is the only piece of him we have left. It was part of his baby blanket. He was only two years old."
Bruno shut his mouth and swallowed hard. "Oh. Lo siento. I – I didn't know."
"He doesn't often come up in conversation," she said graciously. "No one here ever knew him, and Mamá and Papá – they speak – they spoke about him, but usually only when a young child reminded them of something he did. When Mateo made a mess and smeared mud on his face and arms, or when a village child would cry during Mass – they'd say 'Felipe used to do that too.' or 'That reminds me of Felipe. He used to…'…things like that, you know."
She sighed heavily. "I think it was easier for Papá to talk about him when Mamá was still here. Because – they both knew him, they both loved him, they both shared the loss, you know? Papá hasn't talked much about him as much these past few years. But he will, if you ask him. He'd probably like that. I wonder, sometimes, what it would be like to have a brother. But I will only ever know him as he was in my parents' stories, at two years old."
Lucía took a deep breath and put up the only photos of her grandparents that she had – two small black and white tintypes of them. "But," she continued. "I'm glad you're getting to know your padre better."
"Gracias. It is good. To know him better. And it's not just mi padre," Bruno said. "It's – our whole family. Our abuelos and tías and tíos and primos, people we knew existed but never really got to know about, you know? Ma always kept it to the basics – we didn't really have any photos, except for the one of Pa, you know? All she ever really told us was their names. But now she's been telling us everything – every little thing she can remember about every one of them. Heh. She keeps adding things to the shelf below the family tree that remind her of them."
He paused, turning a small carved stone turtle over and over in his hands. "They never - " he cleared his throat. "Ma never let them put anything out for me. I think – because – because she was hoping I was still alive. And uh – turns out, she was right."
He cut himself off abruptly and set the turtle on the mantle.
Lucía stopped fussing over the order of the items and threaded her fingers through his. She squeezed his hand and bumped her head against his shoulder, and he rested his cheek on her hair.
"So yeah," Bruno mumbled after a moment. "I know this – this one, this Día del Recuerdo, it's a hard anniversary for a lot of reasons. But I feel like – this year – this time – it's actually – doing what it's supposed to do. For my family."
She felt him shift slightly.
"We're actually – talking." Bruno kissed her head. "But – ah – hey."
He waited until she looked up.
"…are you doing okay, Lucía?" He asked. "…with…everything?"
She smiled at him and kissed his cheek. "I'm fine, Bruno. Don't you worry about me. I'm fine."
Lucía was not fine.
She was worried about Bruno. She was worried about that vision. She was stressed out trying to balance being a good mother with being a good novia with being a good friend with being a good sister and daughter while also running the print shop and avoiding a run in with the woman who all but declared herself to be her arch-nemesis.
And she was trying to remember Alejandro without…missing him too much, without dwelling on him and his loss.
She told stories to Josefina, of course. They went through all the photos they had of him, all the work he'd done, both with Bruno and on their own. And Bruno was a good man. He was so patient and kind, and he never complained. But with all the demands of the vision schedule lately and the changing and healing relationship with his family, Lucía knew he had a lot to deal with, and she didn't want to add any difficult emotions on top of what he was already going through. Lucía never wanted him to think she'd trade him for Alejandro if she could; she never wanted him to doubt that she loved him as much as she possibly could with her still-healing heart.
And then, the day before Día del Recuerdo, Señora Díaz said something to her that broke her fragile heart.
Lucía had just walked Bruno home so they could have some time alone to talk after he'd come to visit her and Josefina. They'd said goodbye while still in town; he'd kissed her goodnight and promised to see her at Mass tomorrow before he crossed the bridge over the stream to Casita.
She stopped at the cemetery on the way home and stared at Alejandro's grave, her mind whirring but unable to catch hold of any one thought long enough to even sort through the muddle of her thoughts and feelings.
As she left, Señora Díaz, the music shop owner, was entering, a pretty flower wreath ready to adorn her own father's grave.
Lucía nodded at her and held the gate open, still not thinking of anything in particular.
"Gracias, Señora Moreno," she said nervously. Lucía nodded again and made to leave, but Señora Díaz paused just inside the gate.
"Señora Moreno?" She said timidly.
Lucía hummed and looked up at her.
"I - I only say this because I care about you, you know – and people talk – but…it won't do for you to look so sad. It's not a good look for you to mourn your late husband while you're on the arm of another man."
Lucía stopped short and gaped at the woman standing a few feet from her, her breath frozen in her lungs and her heart dropping in pieces to her feet as her brain finally cleared enough to process the words.
"You know," she continued, "I'm so very happy you've found someone else! Not everyone gets to do that. Just – make sure you don't lose him. You know losing someone to death is the worst kind of pain, but there's still pain if you lose someone to a break-up. And it's a different sort, because you still have to see them every day."
Lucía just stared at her as her eyes filled with tears.
"Oh! No! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry – don't worry, Lucía, querida. I'm sure he understands. He seems a gentle sort, doesn't he? Doesn't seem like the type to get jealous. I just meant – be careful, sí? Oh, dear…"
Lucía managed a curt nod in parting and then turned and rapidly walked way, the tears in her eyes blurring her vision.
She waffled between silent, seething rage and second guessing herself in despair the entire way home.
Had she messed up? Had she been selfish in asking Bruno to help her carry the burden of her grief for Alejandro? Should she just – mourn him quietly, remember him on her own?
He'd never seemed upset when discussing Alejandro with her, but maybe he was just pretending that it didn't bother him.
Well, he had enough on his shoulders.
This year, at least – she'd just - she'd keep it to herself for now.
Bruno waited in the narthex for Lucía and her family, nodding politely, if a bit impatiently, to those that greeted him or offered their awkward condolences and gratitude for his father's sacrifice, or for his own work, or wished him well.
Evening Mass would start any moment and he wanted to sit with her – he wanted the comfort of her presence. She'd been strangely distant all day.
Maybe she was just grieving and he needed to give her space to do it.
Just because they were courting now didn't mean all her memories and history with Alejandro had disappeared, and he didn't expect her to act like they did.
"Hola, Bruno!" Josefina called, doing her best to keep her voice quiet as she and her abuelo entered the church. He gave her a hug and allowed José to pull him into one as well and then looked around, confused.
"Where's Lucía?" He asked.
José hesitated.
"Mamá said she had a headache and that we should go on without her," Josefina said matter of factly. "I was gonna ask Doña Julieta for some arepas or something after service but Mamá said not to bother her. I'll probably still ask her," she confided to Bruno.
He nodded in agreement and looked back up at José, his eyes narrowed in concern.
The older man looked to Josefina. "Fresita," he said quietly. "Go in to church and sit with Sofia. I'll be along in a minute, okay?"
Josefina nodded and slipped into the nave, and José turned back to Bruno.
Before Bruno could even ask if she was all right, José spoke. "Can you check on her for me, por favor?" He pleaded. "She kept telling me she was okay, that she was fine, but she's never missed Día del Recuerdo before. Not even the first year after…" He shook his head. "Go talk with her, please?"
Bruno was halfway down the road before the doors fully closed behind him.
The knocking was familiar, and Lucía put the photograph of Alejandro back on the mantel, brushing her fingers over her madre's jewelry and Felipe's scrap of blanket before she left to answer the door.
"Bruno?"
"It's just - " he leaned over, hands on hips, and took a few deep breaths. "It's just – I wasn't – I wasn't going to come. I mean – I'll always come, if you need me, but I thought – 'maybe she just - wants to be by herself'; sometimes I just want a little time to myself - to – y'know - process, but sometimes when I think I want time by myself what I really want is - a rat."
Lucía blinked at him in confusion.
Bruno exhaled sharply, straightened, and tugged at his ruana with one hand while gesturing with the other. "Heh - uh, what I mean by that is I want someone who'll – who'll listen, y'know? Who I know will never – never judge me for my feelings or thoughts and – on today – on today, of all days, I didn't – I didn't want to…impose." Bruno wrung his hands in front of him. "But I – I know you're sad. And I didn't want you to be sad alone. Again."
Lucía smiled at him, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, Bruno. I - "
He held up a hand, his eyes large and pleading. "I don't want it to become a habit, for you to grieve Alejandro alone. We all - " he swallowed and shuffled on his feet. "My family – we all did that for too long. Way, way too long. Mourned my father, and – and everything that happened – we all grieved alone, my mother especially, and – it wasn't – I don't want you to do that. I don't want you to feel like you have to do that just because we're – together."
Lucía stood there in the doorway, her arms at her sides, staring at him, blinking rapidly.
"I know what it's like. Some days are good, and they get better, and then some days are worse and it's hard. And I – I just want you to know - " he took a deep breath. "I still miss my padre, and I never even had the chance to meet him. It's okay if you still miss Alejandro. Lucía - " he stepped forward. "You never have to hide your grief from me."
Lucía's eyes slowly filled with tears until they overflowed and fell, sliding down her cheeks to land on her dark dress with a soft plip. She inhaled sharply and lurched forward, allowing her head to fall to Bruno's shoulder with a soft thump.
He blinked and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly.
"I'm – s-sorry," Lucía whispered. "I'm sorry. I love you and I don't want – I never want you to think that I – I - "
"It's okay," Bruno whispered back.
"But I – you – how can I ask you to listen to me miss a man who – when - "
Bruno gently pulled her away from his shoulder. "Hey. Was he good to you?"
Lucía sniffed and nodded, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. "Yes. Very."
Bruno gave her a tremulous smile. "Then he was a good man to me, too. And, you know - it's never wrong to mourn the loss of a good man."
Lucía pressed her lips into a thin line, stifling a sob.
Bruno wiped her tears away with his thumb. "Hey. He loved you, yeah? Can't fault him for that. Heh. And you were happy – your life was happy, because of him. You have Josefina, because of him. I can't even imagine a world without her in it. I'm glad – I'm so glad you had someone who loved you so much."
Lucía's hands came up between them, her fingers curling into the soft fabric of his ruana over his chest, and a low, keening sound escaped from somewhere deep inside her.
"It's okay to miss him. It's okay to cry, Lucía. You never have to pretend you're more healed than you are. Not for me. Never for me. I mean – heh - I know I'm one to talk, but - "
She pressed herself against him, burying her face into his shoulder, and shuddered. He held her close.
"If he loved you, and cared for you, and made you happy, then - " Bruno's voice shook with emotion and he swallowed. "Then I'll never be anything but grateful to him."
Lucía wept.
"Señor Ortíz! Oh, Señor!"
Osvaldo stopped short, on his way to visit the Madrigals – specifically, Bruno. He felt like he'd gained a new calling in life – Señor Ortíz, deliveryman extraordinaire. Today, he was feeling particularly gracious.
Until he turned around and saw who was calling to him.
"Señor Ortíz," Señora Valencia said, walking briskly to him and stopping a respectful distance away. She held a letter in her hand. "How do you do, Señor?" She smiled politely at him.
He blinked at her. "Oh – hola, Señora."
She blinked back at him and her smile stretched a bit thin. "How do you do?" She repeated.
"Oh." He shifted slightly. "Oh! I'm doing well, gracias. I just got a new shipment of pinwheels in from San Cristobál, right before the Madrigal party – you know, the one you weren't invited to? But I have to say, the pinwheels - "
"How nice," Tatiana interrupted. "I've heard such good things about this new branch of your business."
Osvaldo blinked at her. "…really?"
"Oh, yes!" She said, nodding in that refined, ladylike way she had. "Why, I overheard Señora Pezmuerto say you were such a blessing, with the way you got her family those new plates for their business. 'Not a one broken, not a single scratch on them', she said. You've built up quite the reputation for yourself in the past couple of weeks!"
Osvaldo felt the pride swelling in his chest. "Oh, gracias!" He said. "You know, that particular delivery was - "
"- and I thought, I'm unable to leave town at the moment myself, with that new – rule in place - so who better to trust my letter with than you?"
Osvaldo grinned and nodded right along. "Yes, of course, no one better than me!"
"Excellent!" She smiled serenely at him. "So you'll deliver it for me, then?"
"Of course!"
"Oh, gracias, Señor Ortíz! My husband and I so appreciate it. What you're doing is so thoughtful for the people of the Encanto. We are lucky to have you."
Osvaldo tucked the letter into his pocket with a smile as she bid him good-bye.
Osvaldo Ortíz went to see Bruno Madrigal to see how his trip out of town would go.
It would not go well.
When he was escorted out of the vision room twenty minutes later, Señora Moreno stayed behind with Bruno and both Félix and Agustín held Osvaldo up, helping him down the stairs. When they reached the kitchen Julieta gave him a glass of aguapanela with a strong dash of liquor.
"That's the second time he's saved my life," Osvaldo rasped as he set the glass down. His hand was still shaking. "Well – saved me from a serious injury, at least, anyway. What can I get him now? I'll have to – I'll have to do…something big...Ah! The favors for their wedding. That's it!"
"I don't think Bruno expects anything," Julieta tried to intervene, but he would not be dissuaded.
"They'll be – they'll be the best favors anyone has ever seen at a wedding before! Everyone will go home with an entire basket commemorating the event! I'll - "
"I think," Julieta said kindly, taking his glass from his hands and replacing it with a strong coffee, "that any wedding favors should wait until there is actually a wedding being planned, hmm?"
"…right," Osvaldo murmured. "Right. But still! It will be the specialist of specials. The Wedding Wonder of all Specials…"
Julieta exchanged a look with her husband, and he offered to sit with him until he was ready to leave.
Later that evening, Osvaldo returned all his planned deliveries. "I'm taking a week off, minimum," he explained. "Bruno Madrigal saw…we saw that it would not go well if I went this week. We can try again next week."
He returned the letter to Señora Valencia, and she stared at him for a full thirty seconds as he explained before shutting the door in his face.
"Well," he sniffed, offended. "That was rude."
If she came to the wedding, she was getting the worst basket of the lot.
She waited until after Señor García had already gotten his vision from Bruno and was on his way out of town.
It didn't matter why he was going to San Cristobál, the important thing was he was going.
The men in San Cristobál that paid in advance – the last time she'd seen them, they'd said they were leaving at the end of the month, and she wanted to trade with them at least one more time before they were gone.
If she couldn't go to them because of this ridiculous embargo the Council had enacted on behalf of the Madrigals, she'd ask them to come to her.
Señor García was a strict man, traditional and gruff, but he was also reasonable and could be very generous when he wanted to be.
It was easy to convince him to take her letter.
She smiled in satisfaction as she watched him ride away.
Forget a bicycle – if she kept up this momentum, she'd be able to buy Juan a motorcycle for his next birthday.
A/N: This one is a long one, folks. Bear with me.
Fun Fact: The triplets' birthday was in fact on a Tuesday on October 17, 1950.
Señora Vieja – Mrs. Old Lady
aji – a spicy salsa like condiment/sauce
Los Panchos was a famous trio of musicians that formed in New York City in the 1940s and is widely regarded as one of the top trios of all time and one of the most influential Latin American artists of all time. Their music is great and I listen to it regularly now. Even though it's not exactly right timewise, I like to imagine the song they all dance to in this chapter is Solamente Una Vez. The song was written in 1941 by Agustín Lara for the film Melodías de América but Los Panchos didn't cover it until sometime in the 50s. (Shhh I have a permit I can do what I want.)
*I also did a lot of internet research in an effort to learn about the history of Día de Muertos in Colombia, because I did not want to appropriate any part of Día de Muertos and just rebrand it as my own made-up holiday, but neither did I want to claim that the holiday was celebrated in the early/mid 1900s in Colombia if it was not. According to my (admittedly limited by time and experience) research, Día de los Muertos was primarily an indigenous Mesoamerican (aka Central American, and later – Mexican) tradition. It was originally celebrated in summer, usually in August. When Spanish colonizers came, they moved the celebration of the dead to fit with the Roman Catholic Church's All Saints and All Souls Days in November, and the holiday became a 'pre-Columbian and Catholic fusion' ceremony for remembering the deceased. However, by the 1960s, the tradition was fading away in Mexico, and it was revived in the 1970s as the Mexican government promoted celebrating it, even in areas that had not previously celebrated it, in an effort to draw tourists to the country. Since the 1980s, the celebration has spread and has since become widely popular in the U.S., Mexico, and other Central and South American countries.
However, today, Día de Muertos is not 'officially' celebrated in Colombia, though they do attend mass on All Saints and All Souls Day, and people do visit graveyards to picnic and leave favorite flowers and objects on loved ones' graves.
So, based on this research, I thought it was reasonable to assume that the early to mid 1900s Encanto could have a holiday remembering those lost during and after the founding of the Encanto, but that they would not celebrate Día de Muertos in the same way it is celebrated today. Hence – Día del Recuerdo, a holiday I created for the Encanto based on the idea of remembering and honoring the dead that is present in many cultures. If I've gotten wrong, please don't hesitate to correct me, and I'll make any necessary edits. Thank you!
St. Francis de Sales is the patron saint of writers and journalists, among other things.
The conversation between Bruno and Lucía on Día del Recuerdo is one I always planned on them having, but the framework for it is based on a conversation between Rieta and Killian, the MCs of a webcomic called "Like Wind on a Dry Branch" Episodes 129 & 130, "Hidden Things (3 & 4). If you liked Bruno and Lucia's conversation here, you'll love the one in the webtoon. They speak much more elegantly than Bruno does. XD 12/10 I cried reading it. It's an absolutely beautiful story.
And thus, ends my very, very long author's note. Thanks for reading it, and if you made it this far, a gold star for you.
I hope those who celebrate have a Happy Thanksgiving, God bless you, and thank you for your support. I'm thankful for you all.