Chapter 7

Letters

After making sure Dolores was asleep, Mirabel strode to her grandmother's room, looking at the glowing door for a moment before knocking.

"Come in!"

Despite Alma's consent, she still hesitated. She rarely stepped inside her grandmother's chamber. After her failed ceremony, she'd felt unworthy of entering the Candle room for months. She still was a Madrigal, but… the magic had rejected her at that time, had it not? And Abuela had made it clear that she didn't particularly enjoy her youngest granddaughter's presence ever since the morning that followed her disastrous night, let alone said girl being near something as precious as the source of magic.

Mirabel steeled herself.

"For my family. For Encanto."

For Carlos. For Rafael. And Zoraida.

She walked in. "Abuela? Do you have five minutes?"

Her voice should not have been so meek.

"Yes, Mirabel. Come in."

The girl surveyed the whole bedroom. She leaned on the wall, not feeling like sitting next to her abuela, who was reading in a chair. Alma's face was undisturbed, patient, waiting.

"There's something you should know."

"For my family. For Encanto."

For Carlos. For Rafael. And Zoraida.

"Abuela… The person who brought the baby here… Could they be an intruder?"

Alma's voice was unrelenting. "The magic does not let anybody with harmful purposes in. There is an invisible shield that does not let the wrong people in. That is what our Miracle has always done. Shield us from the ill-intended. Whoever crossed the mountains two nights ago, they are not a threat."

"But there seems to be a threat outside of Encanto," Mirabel categorically said as she once again braced herself so as to give voice to the yet-unmentioned horror that might be looming over their town. "Abuela, our Encanto is thoroughly safe. Right?"

Alma kept facing the window, her voice as assured as before, "Of course, it is, Mirabel. The magic has been strong for five decades. We are the Madrigals, and we will keep it that way. Nothing in this town will falter. Our home is wholly defended."

The Candle suddenly flickered, and both of them stiffened. Mirabel had never seen it quiver except for the night of her Gift Ceremony. She felt something strange inside her when it did, as if a flame were dying out in her insides, leaving only ash in its wake.

The flame of the Candle returned to its usual glow, expanding again.

Cogwheels spun in Alma's mind as she composed herself from the shock, regaining her aura of confidence that made her not only an undisputed matriarch, but also an imposing presence.

"Mirabel, did you tell anyone else in the family what you told me?"

"Dolores only, but I didn't mention the post scriptum part. And before coming to you, I was sure she'd fallen asleep."

"Good. You can tell the others about the new baby if you wish, but not about the post scriptum of the note, entiendes? I don't want our family to worry."

Mirabel wasn't keen on concerning more people anyway.

Alma frowned, still gazing in the distance. "We will work harder. We will keep our safe haven strong. We will not lose our home. Never again."

She finally turned to her descendant. "Go get some sleep now. Tomorrow will be a long day."

"I will."

The teenager made to exit, but was stopped when her hand was on the doorknob.

"Mirabel," Alma spoke, eyeing her granddaughter with such gentleness that the girl's heart melted. How long had it been since the matriarch regarded her that way?

"Thank you for letting me know."

Mirabel's lips parted in a smile. "You can count on me, Abuela. Always."


Mirabel was lying awake in her bed, Antonio shifting in his cot on the opposite wall. She'd been tossing and turning for an hour already, despite her exhausted body and mind. Sleep was stubborn tonight.

The windows were slightly open to let a cool breeze drift to her. But when she looked at the navy sky, the storm clouds gone by now, she started at the sight of something white on the windowsill.

She heaved a breath. A pearl-white dove was peering at her through the gap between the windows. She got up with soundless steps.

"Hola. What's this?" She grabbed the envelope from the beak of the bird before offering it some bread crumbs. Glancing at Antonio, who didn't stir, she unfolded the envelope, pulling out a piece of paper.

She somehow recognized who it was as soon as she read the greeting.

Hey Mirabel,

How are you? I've been thinking about what happened today at el orfanato. I know you're distressed about Zoraida's situation. I wanted to make sure you're alright.

Also, I owe you an apology. I wasn't entirely frank with you at the library. Right now, I have the legends book in front of me, which I've been studying this entire evening. My eyes hurt because I won't turn on the light since Rafi's asleep (we're still accommodating at the Guzmáns). During these times do I manage to appreciate the moonlight.

Anyway, if you're reading this while it's still night, you don't have to reply if you don't feel up to it. But if you do, send the message with Paloma (I think the name fits her, you know?). Don't hurry. I might be up for a few more hours.

Get some sleep. You need it.

See you soon,

Carlos

Mirabel stared at the words, rereading the letter five times. His handwriting was neat yet with a hint of disarray, as if the letters were torn between staying put on the paper and jumping off it. She grinned, stroking the letters, tracing the outline of the ink that glimmered in the moonlight, finding surprising refuge in this short message.

Carlos checked on her. And he was finally being honest. Her body warmed at the same time with her heart.

She wouldn't leave him hanging. She could picture him with the thick book in his lap on a chair beside the open window at the Guzmáns' house, fountain pen still in hand, waiting to see if she'd answer. If she sharpened her smell, the scent of mangoes and caramel that surrounded him everywhere went up her nose.

She took a slab of paper from a drawer and a pen before propping her elbows on the windowsill, her heart hammering when the ball of the pen touched the paper.

"What do I say, Paloma?" She stroked the bird's head as a way of thanking it for the journey it made. As if in response, the dove cooed, flapping its wings and eyeing her with what seemed like interest to Mirabel. Paloma had to be smart, if she was a messenger and if Carlos trusted her with his letter.

So, Mirabel let the pen glide.

Hi Carlos,

I'm still very worried about Zoraida, but we'll take care of her just like we do with the rest of the children. I hope you're alright too.

I have to tell you this though. I told my abuela about the note that came with Zoraida. My family will take care to strengthen the protection of Encanto in case of any potential threats. I also spoke with Dolores, mi prima, and she told me she hadn't heard anyone enter Encanto that supposed night. So, I guess whoever the person is, it will remain a mystery.

You did seem incredibly intrigued by that book. I was on the verge of believing you'd spend the night at the library, but thank God we can borrow the books! Also, since there's a copy of "Myths and Legends" somewhere in the library, take your time to read it. Your eyes need rest too, you know?

I don't know if you can tell, but I'm not used to communicating via letters. Can we do this more often? It feels as if I'm in a story.

You should get some sleep too. You need it just as much as I do.

Take care,

Mirabel

P.S: I think Paloma does fit as her name. But how do you have a homing pigeon? I've never seen anybody with one in Encanto.

It took her three attempts until she was satisfied with her reply. Smiling to herself, she pressed a kiss to her fingers whose tips then touched the dove's head.

"Besides my letter, give this to Carlos for me too, okay?"

The bird cooed again, and took to the sky. Mirabel remained at the window for a long time after it was out of sight, dreamily staring into the peaceful night. Carlos' letter was under her bed, in the box with her most prized possessions that she kept locked with the key hidden below a floor plank.

Something jolted inside her, wanting to leap across mountains and oceans. In the stillness of the night, Mirabel Madrigal's soul laughed freely and fiercely for the first time in a decade.


Over the next month and a half, Mirabel and Carlos saw each other every day, be it at the orphanage, in the park or at the library. They read together, laughed and chatted for hours, and Mirabel had no idea how fast time passed when they were together. She always left his side with a feeling of longing, and found that he was her last thought before she fell asleep every night. There were nights when she did not sleep a wink thinking about their shared moments, and got engulfed in pure bliss doing so, occasionally shifting to stare at another spot in her room or getting up to look out the window, planning what they'd do next.

They made a custom of sending letters to one another via their homing pigeons during the night (Mirabel had bought Chip with a discount from Osvaldo Orozco Ortiz the day Carlos had suggested they go buy her a pigeon). Mirabel felt the intimacy between the two of them growing, and had got used to Carlos' lighthearted teasing to which she always retaliated in the same relaxed, witty manner.

Despite their developing closeness, she abstained from telling him about her troubles, even when he insisted she do so because he knew something was off. He always saw into her soul, whenever she was troubled and exhausted, even though she displayed her biggest grin and always acted carefree. He saw beyond every façade, but never pushed her enough to make her talk to him, probably choosing to give her space instead. That, she appreciated.

He surprised her greatly while they were returning home from the orphanage one day, worn out but merry, and he kissed her cheek when they were in an empty alley, and she froze beneath his touch. His eyes sparkled in a way they never had with a question she could not identify. He departed with his usual warm smile, which somehow held more allure and mystery than ever before, while she remained gawking at his shrinking frame, her heartbeat feral. His kiss burned on her skin that entire evening and night, sending ripples of warmth across her body, and she was afraid her family would guess what he'd done just by her quietness and increased clumsiness of that dinner.

She did not let it show to anyone, but she was in extremely high spirits the next couple of days.

It was no wonder that the citizens of Encanto - adults, kids and teenagers alike - noticed Carlos quickly. With his charming attitude and good looks, he did not fail to attract attention. He was polite to everybody, had an unmatchable sense of humour that immediately made him rise in people's eyes, and always jumped to offer help (which especially made Mirabel's heart flutter).

She was aware she should not have felt hurt by the sight of him laughing with other kids their age though. Should not have let fear poison her heart at the mere thought that she would become a nobody in his eyes, that he would sooner or later look at her with contempt the way Isabela did, would ignore her the way Abuela did and would shoot hurtful jokes and backhanded compliments in her direction because she was different from her family.

She was useless. A burden. A waste of space.

She did not deserve him.

Why had he misled her with that kiss?

No one, no one had wanted to get to know her as well as he did for many years. And now, she felt guilty and clingy for latching onto the one person who showed interest in her.

This interest of his in her wouldn't last, she realised, and she felt needles being plunged into her soul as she was sewing in the nursery one sunny evening. Her family and the people of Encanto had all respected her before her Gift Ceremony, but after that, that respect… vanished from some people, including certain Madrigals.

Carlos would eventually get tired and bored of her, realize she had nothing to give, and leave her alone. Search for some other girl. Fall for her. Marry her.

Dolores' words echoed in her brain.

Promise me you'll be careful.

Just… don't get distracted, alright?

She was definitely careful. And she was not distracted. She spent time with Antonio and took care of him, did her chores conscientiously, helped Julieta prepare food, delivered patched or sewn garments back to the owners who asked her to fix their clothes. What didn't she do?

Perhaps she should not have gotten attached to Carlos.

A dagger stabbed her, and she thrust the needle into her finger, a thimble jingling on the floor, and blood sliding down her skin.

Mirabel grunted, but then a sob shook her shoulders. She bent over, trying to contain herself.

Love meant pain, and heaven knew she already had enough of that to endure.

A small timid voice questioned her ingrained belief, offering a spark of hope, but she pushed it down, down, down, wrapping it with the chain of solitude.

Why, oh why had she fallen for Carlos Serrano?

But she could not force herself to fall out of love now, could she?

And she did not wish to. Carlos was the brightest source of light she'd had since her disastrous night. He was a beacon in the sea of darkness she'd been helplessly swimming in for a decade, and now she was finally able to see the shore that had a tiny chance of meaning happiness, a glimpse of a life where she did not feel unwanted and was not frowned upon for her differences. A life where she would not be judged for who she was, but rather accepted with her flaws and noticed for her qualities.

Loved.

A blissful life.

One that was not out of reach, and where she would be fulfilled.

She did not attend dinner that evening.


The family seemed to have started working even harder. Abuela insisted on working harder than ever so the magic would continue to burn relentlessly. But really, Mirabel wondered, with this rhythm, what would become of them? They'd be like walking ghosts in less than three months.

We are the Madrigals. We are strong. The magic is bright. Our community is happy.

It wasn't Mirabel's voice that was repeating the words.

It was Alma's.

This is for the best, she kept reminding herself. But every time she did, her stomach twisted.

"Abuela, I can't help but notice how… tired everybody is lately," Mirabel said one evening when she and Alma were alone, bracing herself for the worst. She'd calculated every risk she was taking, and had already accepted the tongue-lashing she'd receive if uncareful with her words.

"Tired, Mirabel?" Alma regarded her with big eyes.

Abuela hadn't used a term like 'mija' or 'querida' in almost ten years with her, not even 'nieta'. What wouldn't she give to be addressed that way by Alma again, at least once!

"Yes." She gathered her fearlessness from every corner of her being. "Luisa falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow. I was talking with her last night and she fell asleep in the middle of our conversation. Mamá… She goes to rest late. Tía Pepa has eye bags that don't quite go away anymore, and Dolores says she hasn't had a good night's sleep in weeks."

Alma tore her eyes from the picture of Pedro that was hanging in the hallway. "Mirabel, we are the Madrigals. Working hard is what we do best to keep our community thriving and the Miracle alive."

"Abuela, I love our community as much as you do, but I don't think it needs the Madrigals to go save the day… every day. Our family really needs a breather…"

"Mirabel."

That tone always signalled trouble coming, sending icy shivers down Mirabel's spine. Alma went on with deadly calm, "Why do you defy my choices? I know what is best for my family, my community."

The girl's voice didn't waver, "I don't mean to defy you. But ask yourself, Abuela, are we, the Madrigals, happy?"

"Mirabel."

That kind of call of her name meant she had to stay silent, and suffer the inevitable that was to come. Still, she raised her chin, squared her shoulders, and adopted a mask of coolness, despite the crash of emotions within.

She would not yield when she was trying to stand up for what was right.

Ever.

Alma gave her a pointed look. "Do not question my methods of guiding the family, nor of aiding the village. I know what is best for everybody." She turned back to the portrait of her late husband, her features softening. "Don't let my Pedro's sacrifice be for nothing, Mirabel."

Mirabel gulped, her emotions bubbling up. Her fists clenched, her sight blurring. "Never, Abuela. But I won't be deterred from believing that this is not what Abuelo Pedro would have wanted for us all."

She turned on her heels, hyper aware of the scolding she'd undoubtedly receive in the morning because of her dissent. Against her desire, she made out Alma's 'Stubborn girl!' beyond the raging of her head, her ears, her eyes, but thank Heaven, she wasn't called to return.

She didn't bother to dress into her nightgown, for how would she be able to fall asleep anyway after the argument with Abuela?

She needed to talk to someone. Not Dolores, she was too tired, and worried enough as it was.

Even though it now hurt to think about him, she grasped a pen and paper and scribbled away.


Carlos was staring at the ceiling, Rafael's breaths soft in the bed on the opposite wall. His brother was asleep, but Carlos was not. Still in his everyday clothes, he threw his legs over the edge of the bed, running a hand over his face.

Accommodating was rough. Living with his cousin and aunt hadn't been as easy as he'd first deemed. He'd told them the entire story - how he and Rafael had got separated, how he'd desperately searched for his beloved sibling, but did not reveal the details of what had happened to his parents, sister, and brother-in-law. He didn't want them to know. And he wasn't even ready to talk about it.

He was unsure he would ever be.

Thankfully, neither Tía Helena, nor Mariano insisted that he tell them.

He helped his small family with chores, wanting to make himself useful, to show his eternal gratitude. His bond with both Mariano and his tía had strengthened. While he still had nightmares about his past, he managed to keep them a secret. He calmed down Rafi whenever the little boy woke up startled and anxious, and didn't go back to sleep himself until he'd kept watch long enough to ensure his sibling would sleep till morning.

Tonight, thoughts about a certain Madrigal had kept him up.

The curtains weren't pulled, and when something fluttered outside, Carlos flinched, but then exhaled. He opened the window to let Chip in, scratching the pigeon's head.

"What do you have here, buddy? What does the most amazing Madrigal say?"

Chip cooed, ruffling his raven feathers before going to snuggle into Paloma on the armrest of a chair. Carlos unfolded the note that had been strapped to Chip's leg. Hurried letters whirled before his eyes.

His heart thundered with a feeling of foreboding. He scribbled an answer, and tied the note back to the pigeon's leg. It took off silently back to its owner.

Carlos changed his wrinkled shirt and pants, put the hood of his poncho up and, out the window, fled into the night two minutes later.


After receiving Carlos's reply, Mirabel did not have to wait long until she knew the entire house, the spirit of Casita included, was fast asleep. She placed a tender kiss to Antonio's forehead before drawing up the hood of her capelet and climbing into the tree Isabela had created at the front of the house, shutting the windows soundly behind. She'd made her bed to appear as if someone was sleeping in it.

With practised ease, Mirabel slithered between the branches, the only sounds being the soft thuds of her alpargatas on the wood. She eventually reached the ground, and hastened down the mound her house was on.


The valley was silent as Mirabel was striding amongst the trees and bushes, her ears sharp to detect anything – or anyone. But the only sounds that met her were the grass rustling and the cicadas singing their ballads.

Then, she noticed him.

Or better said, he noticed her.

Carlos was in front of her in an instant, his bangs glistening in the moonlight, his eyes shimmering with worry.

"Are you alright, Mira?"

She did not nod, as she typically would have, instead slid her hand in his. His fingers curled around her palm without hesitation. She dragged him to the lake in the centre of the valley, sitting beneath a willow whose leaves made a constant whisper. The breeze blew a symphony, carrying the scent of flowers and melancholy, while the water danced beneath the gaze of the moon.

Carlos waited in silence as she searched for her words.

"First off, did I wake you up?" she asked fearfully.

"No. I was already awake."

She dissected his words to find the smallest sign of lie, but when she found none, she interlaced her fingers tightly in her lap.

"Carlos, I asked you to come here… because I need someone to listen."

He scooted closer, their knees brushing.

"Am I selfish for doing this?"

"You're everything but selfish, Mira. Háblame. What happened?"

Mirabel looked into his calming eyes, her heartbeat slowing down to a more serene pace. "I tried to talk to Abuela today."

He became alert, as if he anticipated some sort of bad news. The whole Encanto knew she and Alma hadn't been on good terms since her fifth birthday.

"I've been noticing how exhausted my family's gifts make them. I told you that I've spoken to Abuela about the anonymous note, and she decided that we should work harder to strengthen the invisible magic shield of Encanto in case danger comes. This evening, I tried to convince her to let my family take a break, but… let's just say that didn't exactly turn out as I hoped."

She hadn't realized her eyes were misty until her cheeks got damp. Carlos wiped her tears with surprising gentleness, and she leaned into his touch, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I'm so tired of seeing them work so hard, they barely get to breathe. I'm scared they'll work themselves to illness. Mamá's food can't cure illness. I don't know what they're feeling, but there's no way they don't feel the pressure to always do everything. I'm not saying we shouldn't help the community, and I know all this work is to enhance our defence, but… but… I don't think Abuelo Pedro would have wanted this for us."

She stiffened in an attempt to block out the weeps piling up in her throat, and Carlos pulled her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around him, sobbing as quietly as she could.

"And the worst part… Abuela doesn't listen. She doesn't see things the way I do. I even went up to all of my gifted family members, tried to make them understand that they're exerting themselves too much, that they need and deserve to take it easier, but they forgot to even think about their own well-being."

His lips lingered on her forehead in a tender kiss, a gesture that had the power to make her feel a little lighter despite the anguish within. "You have a way of connecting with people." He smiled knowingly. "They may not have listened to you at first, but what do you do after failing?"

She pushed her head up to eye him, wiping a stray tear. Her lips curved up. "Try again."

Carlos' hold on her hand hardened. "You know your family best, cosa linda. Still, you are resolute, but your abuela also is. I've seen her. Concerning her, you should be careful. She has her mind fixed to think a certain way, and doesn't seem to be the type to embrace change quickly. I don't want you to get hurt, so here's my advice: try to gradually instil the fact that your family should also focus on themselves in their mind, starting with your sisters and cousins. If you all come together, you'll have a higher chance of making the grown-up ones listen."

Mirabel nodded, a seed of hope growing in her soul.

"But Mirabel," he said, angling his head towards hers with a solemn mien, "you will take care of yourself just as much as you'll take care of your family. I've seen how hard you push yourself to please them, and you are just as important as the rest of your family."

She was speechless. How many times had she repeated that phrase? Had attempted to make herself believe it once and for all?

He lifted her hand, and when his lips touched her fingers, his eyes pinned on her with undivided attention, she embraced everything she felt for him.

"Promise me," he added, his brows twitching upwards as if to reinforce his genuine request.

She grinned with mischief. "You are one charming and convincing boy, aren't you, Carlos?"

He let out an exasperated sigh, but she knew at least half of it was affected. "Charming? Yes. Convincing? Yes. Boy? Seriously, Mirabel? I am almost sixteen, I am a growing man."

"My sincerest apologies, Your Growing Highness. I did not realize my humble words would be so downgrading and offensive to you."

He tipped his head back and laughed, drawing her in another embrace. "Let me hear it."

"I promise you," she breathed on his shoulder. "I do."


A/N:Thanks for reading!

So yeah, things are changing in the Madrigal family, Alma is worried and so is Mirabel. But Mirabel's life is the one that has probably changed the most in the last months, don't you think?

Carlos has had the opportunity to see every Madrigal use their gift and has noticed how they behave, so of course, that's why he knows how Alma is regarding her rules.

Obviously, Mirabel and Carlos' connection had to start developing faster at some point. Hope you enjoy the moments between them.

Quick question: what was your favourite part of this chapter?

Please let me know what you think overall, I'd really appreciate it!