PART 3

HOME

The Return

The cousins stirred on the marble floor, puzzled for several long moments, as if they'd awoken from a restless sleep. They stood on their knees, examining their bodies that were now back to normal.

Reality struck them like lightning, and their gazes landed on the guitar mere feet away. Rosa winced as Miguel studied it warily. His face was unreadable, which only worsened things since she could only surmise what he might be feeling.

Yet her hope shot up when evaluating the damage. Only the bottom of the instrument had suffered; it was holey with the paint scratched off. The rest of the guitar seemed to be in unharmed condition. Despite that, she still cringed at the smaller or bigger fragments of wood lying on the ground.

"Miguel, I'm sor–"

"Don't apologize, prima. We must hurry to save Papá Héctor."

He got up and tried the heavy doors.

"Argh, it's locked!"

"There! They haven't replaced the shattered window yet."

She slid her hoodie off in a haste, using it as a sack to gather the pieces of the instrument while Miguel tightened a secure grip around the neck of the guitar.

"I can't walk!" she cried out, her legs wobbling when standing up. "You go! I'll catch up. Help Mamá Coco remember!"

"There's no way I'm leaving you here! I'll carry you."

They managed with effort to exit the mausoleum before Rosa hopped onto his back, gripping the bag hoodie close and holding onto her cousin. Miguel dashed through the graveyard as if he weren't carrying twice his weight.

The streets of Santa Cecilia were empty, although the sun had already risen and was climbing higher in the sky.

In his rush, they passed the bench Berto and Abel were sleeping on. Upon being woken up by the bolt of steps, the former jolted on his feet, waking his son up in the process.

"There they are!"

Rosa turned her eyes ahead. There was no time for this now. All that mattered was getting to their great-grandmother.

There wasn't even time to feel the welcoming and relieving feeling of being back home. Miguel thrusted the gates aside, not slowing down.

They were about to barge into Coco's room when Elena cropped up in front of them.

"Where have you been?!" she hollered.

Miguel tried side-stepping her, but his way was blocked. "We need to see Mamá Coco!"

"Por favor, Abuelita. It's urgent!" added Rosa at the same time.

Her eagle eye spotted the guitar, and her instincts kicked in.

"What are you doing with that?! Give it to me!"

Miguel was agile enough to maneuver his body and enter the bedroom, locking the door behind, leaving Elena to scream their names on the other side and helplessly jerk the knob.

The morning light was shining through the only window of Coco's bedroom. The elderly woman was sitting in her wheelchair, a lost expression on her face, her eyes nearly closed. Miguel approached her, Rosa getting down from his back to kneel before her.

"Mamá Coco? Can you hear me? It's Miguel. We saw your papá. Remember, papá?"

"Please… You can't forget him…"

"He'll be gone… Forever…"

Tears pricked their eyes. He showed the guitar to her. The instrument didn't ignite anything in her memory. He took out the photo, holding it up to her face.

"Papá. Remember? Papá?"

Coco didn't react to the picture as she had the evening before, remaining silent and depressed-looking.

Had it only been twelve hours?

Enrique's voice was heard from the outside, as well as Luisa, Berto and Carmen's.

"Mamá Coco, please don't forget him…" said Rosa desperately, out of solutions.

The door was suddenly banged to the wall, the Riveras barging in.

"What are you doing to that poor woman?" cried Elena, approaching her mother. "It's okay, Mamí."

Rosa and Miguel didn't even heed Enrique's seething "What's gotten into you?", nor Berto's anguished "Where have you been all night?"

It was over. Papá Héctor was gone. They failed. It was too late…

A sob escaped Miguel. Her cheeks already damp, Rosa hugged him before they clumsily got up to embrace their parents, who were taken aback by the affection, but returned it nevertheless.

"We thought we'd lost you, mijos…"

"We're sorry," admitted the girl through hiccups.

"We're all together now. That's what matters," comforted Luisa.

Elena's voice was heard. "Miguel, Rosa, apologise to your Mamá Coco."

They were about to do so, but Miguel got an idea. He whispered it in Rosa's ear, making her eyebrows raise.

"You really think it will work?"

He wiped his eyes. "It's worth a shot."

They knelt down beside their great-grandmother.

"Mamá Coco… your papá… he wanted you to have this," said Miguel weakly before signalling to his prima with his eyes. Holding hands tightly, their gentle voices became one,

Remember me…

By now, the entire family had arrived in the bedroom. Elena wanted to stop them, but Enrique placed a hand on her shoulder, holding her back.

"Mamá, wait."

Though I have to say good-bye

Remember me

Don't let it make you cry

For even if I'm far away

I hold you in my heart

I sing a secret song to you

Each night we are apart

The Riveras' eyes widened in astonishment, silent. Coco's eyes opened, her gnarled fingers twitching to a silent beat. She started singing along, to the kids' contentment and relief.

She remembered…

She really did…

Remember me

Though I have to travel far

Remember me

Each time you hear a sad guitar

Know that I'm with you

The only way that I can be

Until you're in my arms again

Remember me…

Coco smiled at them, and they beamed at her.

Upon looking back to the rest of the family, Rosa and Miguel noticed the family's relieved and delighted faces, eyes filled with tears. Even their abuelita was crying.

"Elena? What's wrong, mija?" asked Coco.

She hadn't recalled her daughter's name in years…

Elena sniffled. "Nothing, Mamá. Nothing at all."

Coco looked at her great-grandchildren. "My Papá used to sing me that song."

Miguel smiled more widely. "He loved you, Mamá Coco."

"Your papá, he loved you so much…" added Rosa.

The woman's eyes brightened, light shining in them, and she teared up again. She reached to cup their cheeks, just like her father had done less than an hour ago. They grinned, tears dripping off their faces.

Mamá Coco opened the drawer of her nightstand, getting out a small notebook, turning its pages.

"I kept his letters… poems he wrote me… and…"

She pulled out a tiny piece of paper, handing it to Miguel, who took it slowly. Rosa let out a relieved giggle as he got Mamá Imelda's photo out and pieced the picture together, Papá Héctor's head finally back where it belonged.

"Papá was a musician," Coco added, smiling fondly. "When I was a little girl, he and Mamá would sing such beautiful songs…"

The cousins gave her a long heartfelt embrace.

They were all back together, at last…

"Now, let me tell you about my papá as I remember him…"

"We love you too," whispered Rosa, her throat tight. "And we're sorry for running away."

Carmen's voice washed over her worry, echoing Luisa's minutes ago, "What matters is that you're back home. Safely so."

Despite the dark fate she and Miguel had just sidestepped, Rosa found herself grinning. She didn't mind the tears racing down her flushed cheeks.

Berto rubbed her back in circles before looking her over. "Are you hurt, mija?"

His tone conveyed his concern, but Rosa inwardly shivered at the stern note in his voice. Her father was known for his temper, but she dared to hope that his gentle side would be the one she'd see for at least the next few days.

Abel came forward to hug his sister. She had to stifle a wail when his strong arms wrapped around her middle. Nevertheless, she combed a hand through his hair, returning the affection. His embrace was so similar to Tía Rosita's…

"I still have to bend down to hug you, hermanita."

The teasing was light-hearted, but she could see beyond it. Could see the anguish of the night in his eyebags, the fatigue in the smile that suddenly resembled Papá Héctor.

"Just be patient for a few more years, will you?" Rosa responded with her own smirk.

Elena embraced her and Miguel with such force that it rivalled Abel's, kissing their hair and faces.

"Oh, mijos, we were so worried! Where have you been?"

Miguel bit his lip, glancing at his prima.

A silent question.

"Mamá, I think they need to rest now," Enrique voiced tiredly before any of them could. "We'll talk later."

Rosa sighed through her nose. It would have been exhausting if they were forced to narrate everything that had happened so soon.

"You're right, Enrique," agreed Luisa. "Come on, mijos, let's get you cleaned up."

"But first, please tell me you can repair this guitar?" asked Miguel, him and Rosa showing the family the destroyed instrument.

Enrique sighed before surveying the damage and the broken parts.

"It's really important. It belonged to Papá Héctor."

His father searched his eyes. "Of course, mijo."

Elena looked like she wanted to say something, but held back.

"Rosa, why are you limping?" Berto asked, cautiously eyeing her left foot, which she was holding slightly above the floor.

"I… I think I sprained my ankle."

Her parents looked like they wanted to ask away, but Abel scooped her into his arms; complaining would only add to her enervation, so she took pleasure in being carried to the main hall, Luisa, Miguel and Carmen on Abel's heels.

Carmen helped her daughter into the bathroom, setting her on the edge of the bathtub.

"Mamá, I can shower on my own."

The girl swallowed the rest of her words when she noticed her mother's pained eyes.

She needed this. Rosa had put her through the horror of a lifetime last night, so she'd keep her mouth shut and allow her mamá to look after her.

"Arms up!" Carmen ordered softly, and Rosa obeyed wordlessly, though she braced herself for the reaction she'd have to face.

Carmen pulled her shirt over her head. Rosa fought the urge to withdraw when her mother's wide eyes scanned the red and purple bruises on her stomach, side and hip. She looked at her only daughter quizzically, but the girl merely shook her head. She'd expected questions to start flowing by now, but Carmen only kissed her forehead.

She inspected the wounds. "Does it hurt if I touch you?"

"Yes."

Carmen looked her over just like Berto had done minutes ago, but her husband couldn't have seen what she was seeing at the moment. While helping Rosa in the tub after having turned on the water jet, she noted down Rosa's wounds.

Scrapes to the left elbow, bruised torso, knees and temple, scratched palms and fingers, and sprained left ankle…

Carmen's face was only a shadow of the storm of emotions within her, and Rosa didn't dare give details.

Not now.

Not yet.

She didn't feel ready.

And something told her that her mamá wasn't ready to know everything - anything - about that night.

When the family would interrogate them, she and Miguel would reveal what was veiled at present. She just hoped they'd be ready, and that the Riveras would be prepared for what was to be divulged to them.

So, she let Carmen wash her tangled hair, tend her injuries as well as bandage her ankle skillfully.

Throughout it all, Rosa wondered how her mother could still work so deftly with tears in her eyes.

In clean clothes after the relaxing shower, Rosa was sitting on her bed with a bag of ice on her bruises. Upon hearing the knock on her door, she hid the ice under her bed, but retracted it when Miguel walked in.

He sat next to her. "Hey! How are you feeling, prima?"

"As if a train hit me," she answered.

Despite the truth of the words, they both chuckled.

"Yeah, me too." He turned serious, looking at her side as if he could see through her shirt. "Are you badly hurt?"

"Depends how you define "bad "."

He sighed. "Should we tell them the truth? You know, about what happened last night?"

Rosa pursed her lips, sceptical. "I highly doubt they'll believe us. And not only about the whole Land of the Dead and the curse thing, but also about de la Cruz and Papá Héctor. I mean, we have no proof whatsoever, and they have never questioned what happened to Héctor."

Miguel's eyes narrowed in concentration. "Maybe there is some sort of proof. Somewhere. Or maybe there isn't and they'll have to take out word for it. We're family after all."

Silence lingered over the issues that awaited to be dealt with like a storm that threatened to blow everything in its way, but did not reach the town.

"You're right," admitted Rosa. "They're our family and they have to know we would never ever lie to them about something so serious. Nor could we just make everything up, it'd be too much!"

"But… do you think we managed to… save him?"

Her heart stopped. "Yes, I do!"

There was so much doubt in his eyes that it started unrooting her belief.

"What if we were too late, even if Mamá Coco remembered him?" Miguel added.

"We weren't."

He looked deep into her eyes as if having the ability to spot the uncertainty nestling in her soul before changing the subject which was clearly unnerving him to a frightening degree.

"I do need to apologise to you, Rosa."

She frowned. "Regarding what?"

"All those months when I treated you differently after you quit music. I shouldn't have done it. I should've put family above all else."

She waited for his words to sink in before speaking, "There's also something I've been meaning to tell you. If I had stood up to our family's rules better, maybe Abuelita wouldn't have smashed your guitar. I should've been brave in front of them last evening. Believe me, quitting music to follow the rules hurt a thousand times more when I realized that I'd lost you in the process."

Her eyesight was blurry as she was wringing her hands and he was staring at her.

"I'm so, so genuinely sorry about everything, primo…"

He pulled her close with quivering hands just when the first tear rolled down her cheek, to which she responded with a strong hug.

"Rosa, please listen to me carefully. I don't blame you for what happened. I understand you were afraid of the consequences that would come with taking my side. I made some pretty big mistakes myself, and you know it."

"But families support each other. And I'm a failure of a cousin because I was so stupid to simply stand and watch you suffer. I know how hard you worked to build that guitar, how much it meant to you…"

"You have supported me as long as you could, and I could craft another one."

Miguel pulled back and grabbed her shoulders, squeezing them to make her pay attention. He was briefly reminded that Hector had done the same thing to encourage them to perform last night.

"And you are certainly the most amazing cousin I could have asked for."

It felt as if a boulder was removed from her heart.

"What about my brothers?"

"They're cool too, but you can't deny that you and I have a special connection."

He wiggled his brows, and she snickered.

"And besides, if my guitar weren't broken, nothing from last night would have happened, right?"

Despite the truth the statement held, Rosa noticed the pain behind his smile. She knew only time could mend that kind of wound.

"Do you think they'll lift the ban in case they believe us?" he questioned.

"I don't know. I always thought I knew my family, but now, I honestly can't predict a clear reaction from them."

"Will they forgive me? And Papá Héctor?"

She looked at him as if he'd done something outrageous.

"Miguel, they're our family! You mean more to them than anything else! About Papá Héctor though, I'm not sure, but it won't hurt if we hope."

"Berto, I'm scared."

Carmen clenched her husband's fingers, nestling in his embrace. "I fear that the worst has happened to our little girl and nephew."

"They've both been hurt by somebody." Berto's eyes narrowed, the image of his hija and sobrino getting harmed sending a dagger through his soul. "Whoever is responsible, they'll face great consequences."

Luisa rested her head on Enrique's shoulder. "Should we talk to them tomorrow? They fell asleep fifteen minutes ago, and I don't think they'll wake up anytime soon."

Enrique nodded, his gaze lost. "We'll let them sleep however much they need, and hope that they'll be ready to talk to us. Whatever happened, we'll find out, but Miguel and Rosa come first."

Rosa's head was throbbing as she was eating breakfast under the weary gaze of her mother. Upon closer observation, she realized she hadn't slept well (which also applied to the rest of the familia, even though the night of Día de Muertos had certainly exhausted them), unlike her and Miguel.

Nineteen hours.

She'd woken up around 2 a.m, and knew she'd be unable to sleep any longer. She obeyed the urge to check on her primo, and found him still asleep in his room.

He was safe.

She was safe.

Papá Héctor was safe.

She'd returned to her bedroom, opened a book, and delved into its pages.

"Rosa, Miguel," Abuelita said after both her grandchildren finished their tamales, "we need to talk. The family is waiting in the living-room."

When they were eventually seated on the sofa with the Riveras around them, Rosa prayed before the questions started. The tension was tangible, the adults' anxiety intensifying with every moment.

Before she would have begun though, Miguel spoke up.

"I'm… terribly sorry for running away. I didn't think how much it would hurt you all. I'm not asking for your forgiveness, but I want you to know that I love you more than anything. I could never not wish to live my life without you."

Luisa hugged him. "Of course we forgive you, mijo! Now, will you talk to us?"

Peeking at his cousin, who nodded, he copied her gesture.

They told the story down to the most minute details they recalled, not missing anything, except for the one that Rosa purposely left out, the details about Ernesto de la Cruz hurting her as well as throwing herself off the ledge of the roof.

By the time they finished, the family's faces were a mix of utter shock, disdain, horror and wonder.

Miguel took a deep breath before letting his remorse out. "I want you to know that I never meant a word. I was angry, I wasn't thinking straight, but I have never and will never want not to be part of this amazing, wonderful family that we have. Please forgive me."

Nobody commented for two long minutes, their silence deafening and scaring the cousins.

Luisa was the first to find it in herself to move, hugging her son and niece tightly; she was followed by the others, the embraces being so tight that Rosa had to suppress the pain they caused her bruises.

"There is a lot to think about," Berto said for everybody.

"Do you think they'll believe us?" Miguel asked as they were sitting on the well in the hacienda.

"I surely hope so," replied Rosa, tilting her head back to admire the thousands of stars speckled across the navy-blue sky. "But whatever happens, promise me one thing, primo."

"Anything."

"That we won't be mad at them, that we will always remember how loved we are."

She looked at him.

"That… music or no music, we will accept things as they will be and never forget what truly matters."

He showed no hesitation, his tone clear and assertive, "I promise."

Rosa let out a vibrant laugh that she didn't know the source of.

"Good."

From somewhere far, music could be heard, and they revelled in the ambiance it created as a warm breeze blew their hair askew.

"A big change is coming," said Miguel as they side-hugged, their gazes absorbed by the stunningly magnificent night sky.

Rosa nodded. "It is. But we're Riveras, and no matter what happens, we'll have each other and our family. That's what really counts."

Thank you for reading! How was it?

I don't know if it's noticeable, but I struggle to write scenes with a lot of characters in them.

Do you know that deleted scene where the Riveras repair Miguel's broken guitar? Well, I wanted to include that moment in my fic.