Casita opened its doors to Dolores as Mariano escorted her home. She turned and smiled up at him, drowning in his dark eyes.
"Buenas noches, mi amor," Mariano whispered.
A shiver went up Dolores's spine at his deliciously husky voice. "Buenas noches, mi poema. Hasta mañana."
Mariano smiled and leaned down. Dolores held her breath then sighed as he gave her a gentle peck on the lips. After kissing her knuckles, he turned and left. Dolores listened to his footsteps as he walked back toward the village in the twilight. Then she heard a creak from the upper railing. She turned to see Bruno watching her. When he saw her looking, he cringed then turned and scurried back toward his room. The door shut quietly, and then she could no longer hear Bruno.
That was a gift Casita had given to her with her hearing. She could not hear the sounds inside any of the bedrooms if the occupants wanted privacy. She was exceedingly grateful for it. Casita was so kind to the family. Speaking of the house, Casita gently rippled its tiles, and she stepped inside. The front doors shut quietly, and Casita rippled a path to the bottom of the stairs, almost like a question.
"I do need to speak with him. Let me get the memory first," Dolores said.
After she told her mother she was home, she strode purposefully up to her room to get the glass tablet. She handled it carefully, trailing her finger over her uncle's broken heart before she hugged it to her chest. On soft feet, she went to her uncle's room. The hallway looked foreboding, but she pressed on. As she reached out and knocked, she stared at the outline of his door and realized something. Her tío had his eyes open on his door. She thought her door was the only one like that.
After a few minutes, she realized Bruno wasn't going to answer. She sighed then hesitated. He could be deep inside his room. She recalled the towering cliffs and warm sand and wondered if he could hear somebody knocking when he was so far away.
"Casita? If he can't hear me, could I come in? If he's ignoring me, I'll leave." There was a pause then Casita opened the door. Dolores breathed out and stepped forward. "Thank you. Where is he?"
The boards rippled a path to the sand waterfall, and Dolores looked at the flowing sand. She remembered this noise, a constant background to her life while Bruno hadn't been living in his room. For Dolores, falling sand was forever linked to her uncle. And when the sound had finally cut off, when Bruno had returned to his room and wanted privacy, the lack of noise had made her uneasy, yet incredibly happy at the same time. Taking a deep breath, she ducked under the sand and slipped down the small dune.
After brushing the grains of sand from her dress, Dolores straightened and looked around. Soft footsteps sounded out and she could hear her uncle counting under his breath.
"Uno, dos, tres, four, five, six. Uno, dos, tres, four, five, six."
He repeated the phrase again and again, and Dolores looked up to see that he was walking up the stairs. He was nearly at the top, and Dolores's eyes moved down to the beginning of the stairs. Her footsteps were muffled as she walked through the sand to the steps. Why were there so many? But she looked down at the tablet. Her resolve hardened and she took the first step.
Without conscious thought, she stepped in time with her uncle's counting, and the same mantra he chanted repeated in her head long after he'd reached the top.
'Uno, dos, tres, four, five, six. Uno, dos, tres, four, five, six.'
By the time she got to the top, Dolores's calves were burning, and she stopped to catch her breath. She could hear Bruno talking to his rats.
"Such hungry little idiotas," he crooned. "Hungry, hungry. But this arepa is for me."
Dolores giggled. She'd always loved hearing her uncle talk to his rats. He said the funniest things to them. But it wasn't right for him to not know she was there. After carefully crossing the bridge, she walked up to the door, hesitated, then tapped gently. Despite her soft knock, there was a yelp and the sound of shattering pottery. The pause lasted for several seconds, and Dolores tapped again. Footsteps sounded out then the door cracked open to reveal one suspicious hazel eye. Bruno relaxed and opened the door a bit further when he saw Dolores.
"Hola, burbujita. What brings you all the way up here?" Bruno asked, leaning against the round frame of the door. Then his eyes caught the glow of the ruby tablet she was hugging to her chest. His mouth fell open and he pushed the door open further. "For crying out loud, how many visions did I have?"
Dolores attempted to remember the number, but Bruno sighed and muttered before she finished counting who had received one. "Guess you wanna talk about it, huh?
"Yes, tío. Please?" Dolores stepped forward to go inside. For a moment, she wasn't sure Bruno would let her in as he shifted to block her way. Then he hesitated and stepped back.
"Get comfortable. ¿Necesitas agua?"
Dolores nodded and accepted a canteen of cool spring water. The wind suddenly picked and blew the door closed, plunging them into darkness. Dolores squeaked in surprise, splashing water down her front. Green flames flickered to life in the metal brackets around the wall, casting them both in an eerie light. Dolores blinked at her uncle as he looked at her. He burst out laughing when he saw water dripping from her chin.
"Surprised you, didn't it?" he teased. "Stupid door's always been like that. I barely even notice anymore."
Dolores giggled a little, a bit nervous. "Surprised me," she whispered.
She was startled to hear herself more clearly than usual. Looking around, she realized the vision cave was magnifying her voice. Then it magnified the silence that fell between them. Bruno's smile faded as he glanced at the glowing tablet. After a long pause, he held out his hand. Dolores took a deep breath and handed it over.
Bruno ran his eyes over the tablet and he wilted. He touched his shattered heart then closed his eyes and shook his head. "I shouldn't have ever agreed to do a vision for you, Dolores. I'm sorry."
Bruno's voice was even softer than usual, but the amplification meant that he sounded normal. Dolores knew he was taking her gift into account, and it warmed her heart, even as it broke from the self-loathing in her uncle's voice.
"No, tío," Dolores said. "I'm the one who should apologize."
Bruno glanced up, his brows furrowing. "And why is that, burbujita?"
Dolores took a deep breath and spoke clearly. "I should have let the whole vision play out. You tried to warn me, but for once, I didn't listen. Because of that, I hurt you and damaged our relationship. If it had played through, I might have seen beyond the proposal. But I ran away, and so I had no hope for my own future. I saw no happy ending for me, tío."
Bruno glanced up at her. "The future can be hard to see sometimes. It's impossible to know how the event can happen. 'I would never!' you might say. Ah, but the vision said otherwise. Accepting that part without knowing how you end up there is pretty difficult. It was my fault for showing you and then cutting it off like that."
"What do you mean, tío?" Dolores asked.
"Aw, well, I shouldn't have agreed to show you. Once I did, it was only natural for it to play out. You didn't like the vision, you scared me, I kicked out the herbs, it cut off… It was just a bad idea to use my 'gift' for anything."
The bitterness that clung to that one word was painful for Dolores to hear. She considered his words carefully. "It wasn't your fault for using your gift. That's what you're supposed to do. But because I didn't let you continue, it affected everything in a negative way. So it was inevitable because of my own response." Dolores paused and looked down. "Seeing the future is hard, isn't it? Because you see key events but not what leads up to them. And people can't see themselves being there because they don't know how they could possibly get there."
Bruno stared at her, and a smile grew on his face. "That's exactly it, burbujita," he said, affection and wonder in his voice. Then he sighed. "That's why they think I'm creepy."
"What's creepy about it?"
"Well, think about it. Knowing that somebody is going to do something that seems out of character would freak anybody out. I mean, I know the futures I see are going to happen. There is absolutely no way to avoid them. Many of the villagers have tried. But in doing so they simply make them come true. But they don't want to blame themselves. So they blame me and say I cause the future." He paused and picked at his ruana. "I promise I don't, Dolores. I just see the future."
"If anybody is to blame, it's the villagers," Dolores said thoughtfully.
"What? How do you figure that?" Bruno asked.
"Seeing the future is your gift, tío. But I don't think you were meant to use it for every little thing," Dolores said. "And that's what Abuela made you do. She made you use it for casual things instead of saving it for the big things. In encouraging everybody to come to you for whatever they want, she was unintentionally abusing your gift. Nobody is meant to know everything that's going to happen. The Good Lord never intended for mankind to know everything in store for them. Just because you can use your gift to see the little things doesn't mean you should."
Bruno gazed at Dolores, his expression pinched. Then his bottom lip trembled, and he quickly looked away. Dolores reached out to take his hand.
"And it's not your fault that the villagers react that way, tío. You don't control the future. Nobody understands your gift, and they don't try. Instead, they abuse it then blame you. Just like me. And I'm so sorry I asked for such a small thing. I didn't understand either. But I understand better now."
Tears slipped down Bruno's cheeks, and he smiled warmly as he scooted closer and pulled Dolores into an embrace.
"Gracias, burbujita. I forgive you."
Dolores pulled back and kissed his damp cheek. "Now that I understand, may I ask you for a favor?"
Bruno peered at her in the green light. "What would that be?"
"May I see if I truly have a future with Mariano?"
Instantly, Bruno was tense. He shifted away from her as he hunched over and began wringing his hands together. After a long pause, he shook his head. "I told you, I'm never using my 'gift' again. I meant it, Dolores. I'm sorry."
"If that's what you want, then of course. Thank you for considering it," Dolores said. She leaned over and kissed her uncle's cheek.
As soon as she responded positively, Bruno relaxed and hugged her again before he stood up and stretched. He offered her his hand and tugged her to her feet. Leaning down, he picked up the red glass and walked his niece to the door and opened it.
"Thanks for dropping by, burbujita. But I think you should go now."
As the golden light came in, the torches went out, and they both blinked in the brightness. Dolores stepped outside and looked around. Bruno handed her the tablet and turned away.
"Shake off the sand before you leave my room," he said then quietly shut the door behind her.
Dolores turned away, looking eagerly down at the tablet. Just like Luisa had described, Bruno had left glowing green fingerprints on the ruby surface. As she watched, the green began to spread out over the glass, and a new image was revealed.
She had to have been ten or eleven, and she was clearly at an event with the rest of the town. She had a gleeful look on her face and was looking through the crowd at Bruno, who was off in the shadows. His hand covered his mouth, but his eyes were shining as he caught young Dolores's eyes. Dolores was delighted by the tablet. She'd forgotten that her tío liked to make her laugh by muttering the funniest things under his breath, sometimes during serious moments.
A slow grin spread over Dolores's face, and she turned to go down the slide that had appeared while she was inside the cave. She enjoyed the exhilarating slide to the desert, and she giggled when she stood up and brushed off her skirts. She turned to look up at the cave, and she squinted at the stairs. Was it just her, or were there fewer stairs than when they'd dragged Bruno up a couple weeks before?
After staring for a few moments, she shrugged it off then headed for the waterfall of sand. She had to see the front door, had to see if her crack had disappeared just like it had with Camilo and Luisa. When she saw that it had healed, she ran straight to the family to tell them the good news.