13. Chapter 13

A/N: Edited 6/24/22 for spelling and grammar.

Chapter 13

It began raining shortly after Josefina arrived home from school.

It made Lucía uneasy, as she wondered if the rain was natural or if Pepa had finally learned about what happened at the market today. (Not that she was upset at Pepa's expression of her powers – she just didn't want the woman feeling any sadness or guilt over what had transpired today – or what had happened in the past.) It was not a storm – no wind, no thunder – just a heavy downpour that slowed to intermittent sprinkles by the time Lucía and her family left their house.

Lucía, Josefina, and Papá made their way down the road, the sun still bright through the clouds, though hanging lower in the sky. The air was heavy and humid. Puddles had formed from the rain, and it took every ounce of Josefina's willpower not to jump in them. She proudly carried a small mochila that contained a carefully wrapped bit of cheese for Bruno's rats and a book for Antonio to borrow. Lucía carried an umbrella – just in case – and some fruit to go with the meal, and her Papá carried the rest of the books Señora Madrigal had requested earlier.

Lucía's stomach fluttered uncomfortably in anticipation. After her talk with Sofia and a nice walk with Bruno, she'd also spoken with her father. He had reassured her in the same manner Sofia had – first listening, and then examining, bit by bit, the events that had led to the confrontation today and to Alejandro's death. She'd felt much better, afterward. She had given Josefina a simple, age-appropriate explanation of what had happened that day, just so she would not be taken unaware if it was brought up at dinner, and Josefina had hugged her tightly and pressed long, messy kisses to her cheeks.

She was still nervous about dinner with the Madrigals, though. It was such an unusual set of circumstances. Sure, she'd hosted them for a few weeks while their home was rebuilt – but earlier today Tatiana had publicly stated they'd all failed her and were at least marginally responsible for her husband's death. She didn't feel that way at all, but she didn't know how to address it with the family. Would they talk about it? Was that why Alma had invited them all over? Or was she just being kind and giving her a way to escape the situation with Tatiana, earlier? She felt a pressing desire to pass that same feeling of relief she'd gotten from Sofia and Papá on to the Madrigals, but didn't know quite how to go about doing so.

When they arrived at the Casita, it welcomed them by throwing open the magically engraved door and clicking its tiles. Lucía mumbled 'hola' under her breath and placed the umbrella in a stand near the door, and Papá lifted his sombrero in hesitant greeting. Casita held out a tile to take it for him.

He shook his head as he watched the house move his hat into place on the wall in the foyer. "I don't know that I'll ever get used to that," he muttered under his breath. He smiled as Josefina giggled, Casita spinning the tiles beneath her in friendly greeting.

Apparently, the house had cleaned itself up from the rain in anticipation of the dinner. The Madrigal family had moved the dining table into the courtyard, and Camilo, Félix, and Alma were just finishing setting it.

"Hola, bienvenidos – welcome, welcome!" Alma greeted them warmly and took the fruit from Lucía. "Camilo, will you take this to Julieta and your mamá, por favor?"

"Sí, Abuela," he responded, before shifting into the tía in question and taking the fruit. He grinned and spread his arms wide, as if to say 'ta da'.

Alma smiled and rolled her eyes. "To the real Julieta, Milito."

He shifted back into himself and turned to the Hernandez family. José shook his hand, as did Lucía, murmuring soft 'holas', and then Josefina launched herself at him, and he was nearly knocked over. He fumbled with the fruit for a moment, but managed not to drop it.

"Hey, Josefina!" He returned her embrace with one arm, and then stood back, a mock frown on his face. "Did you, like, grow a foot or something?" He shifted into a slightly shorter version of her and stood beside her, comparing their heights with his hand. "Yup," he said, returning back to himself. The fruit never even wavered as he shifted. "You've totally gotten bigger. You're making progress." He nodded seriously at her.

"Yes!" Josefina pumped her fist in a celebratory gesture and her face lit up. Then, Antonio called to her from the balcony overlooking the courtyard, several animals around him, and Josefina waved and dashed up the stairs to see him.

Lucía looked at Camilo, curious, and he shrugged. "She told me when she gets big enough she'll be able to have a pet of her own."

Lucía laughed. "I meant her age, not her size."

Camilo grinned and shrugged again and turned on his heel to take the fruit in his arms to Julieta and Pepa in the kitchen. Félix greeted Lucía and José warmly as well, and soon the entire family was descending on the courtyard dining room, exchanging greetings and finding seats and assisting Julieta and Pepa as they carried out the food for dinner. The sisters had worked together to prepare the evening's meal. Pepa did the brunt of the work since Julieta had cooked in the afternoon to serve the town. Julieta had fulfilled her promise to Pepa, though, and had focused on making cocadas de piña for dessert with the fruit Luisa had helped her and Agustín collect earlier. (Agustín, bless his heart, had been helping Julieta in the kitchen every day since discovering he could help with her gift – and both she and Pepa had insisted he take the evening off.) Pepa made ajiaco and chuleta valluna with rice and salad. The stew smelled sweet and savory and earthy, and the scent of the soup mingling with the scent of the salty breaded pork made Lucía's mouth water. After everything that had happened earlier, she hadn't had an appetite for lunch.

And thus began a carefully choreographed, insanely awkward sort of social dance, in which everyone was seated and served and carefully avoided talking about what made Lucía's stomach twist in knots. It seemed, to Lucía, as though perhaps everyone knew what had happened earlier today – Dolores kept her eyes down and her voice quiet, and Mirabel kept looking between her prima and her Tío Bruno and Abuela, and all the adults' words were stilted and polite. No one seemed to be able to look her in the eye for more than a moment, though Camilo, Félix, Agustín, and Isabela tried valiantly to. Luisa and Dolores hadn't looked at her at all, aside from the quiet greeting they both gave her when they all sat down.

Lucía looked questioningly at Alma, and then Bruno, but the older woman did not seem to catch it. Bruno just returned her look with an apologetic smile and a tilt of his head. His eyes were soft and his worried expression made her smile to reassure him that she was doing just fine.

Mostly.

Camilo and Mirabel eagerly filled in any awkward silence between the adults with something they'd begun learning in school about power sources, and the possibility of electricity within the Encanto.

"We wouldn't even need to connect to outside power sources, Abuela," Camilo explained. "They already use windmills and dams to generate electricity in other places. We wouldn't need to rely on anyone outside the Encanto. If we just got the right supplies - with Mamí's help – we could use wind and water to make enough electricity - "

" – theoretically – to power the Encanto. Or at least some buildings within the Encanto. Community buildings – the church – the town hall?" Mirabel suggested. (1)

Abuela looked uncertain, but inclined her head in acknowledgement. "It – seems worth exploring."

"I mean, think of what we could do with it!" Mirabel continued excitedly. "Refrigerators, radios, a powered sewing machine, television - "

"- maybe some quality programming for a change - " Camilo muttered under his breath, waggling his eyebrows at his tío.

Bruno laughed nervously, a beat too late to avoid sounding awkward. "What, Lareina and Lorenzo aren't enough for you?"

"We can't all be as romantic as Lola," Camilo said, attempting to draw her into the conversation, and then, when he couldn't catch her eye, seemed to catch himself, and stopped talking abruptly, asking for someone to pass the rice. He then fell into silence and even Josefina couldn't get more than a few words out of him.

Isabela attempted to fill the silence and spoke of the work she'd done that morning with Pepa and Félix in the fields. But when she began to explain her plans to try some experiments using her plants for dying clothing and perhaps hair, she seemed to realize that direction of conversation was not safe, either, and trailed off.

Josefina looked around in confusion. "Why is everyone acting so weird?"

The table went silent.

"Josefina," Lucía chided gently. "That's rude."

"But she's not wrong," Camilo muttered under his breath, earning him a disapproving look from Félix.

"Do you not like Isabela's idea? Because I think it's amazing!" Josefina continued on stubbornly. "Your hair is amazing! And I want a streak like yours. Except maybe I'd like purple. Or pink. Or orange."

Isabela smiled wanly at the little girl. "Any of those colors would look good on you. I think orange would bring out your eyes, purple would be more subtle in your dark hair, and pink would stand out more."

"Can I have a streak like that in my hair, Mamá?" She turned to her mother with wide, pleading eyes.

Lucía smiled. "I suppose, once Isabela gets the hang of it – once she practices and is comfortable with it – and if she wants to try it out on you, then – yes. Okay."

"Yes!" She exclaimed, lifting her fork high in victory. "Antonio, what color would you get? Orange? Maybe green? It's too hard to decide. Maybe I could have a whole rainbow…"

"One streak, mija. One to start with. And only when Isabela says it's okay." Lucía smiled apologetically at the young woman and Isabela returned it, though it was strained.

Josefina looked between them both and popped a piece of chuleta valluna in her mouth. By the time she was done chewing, the table was silent once more, everyone glancing at everyone else before looking back down at their plates.

She swallowed and took a big gulp of juice. "See?" She announced. "It got all quiet again. It was never this quiet at our house." She suddenly dropped her voice to a whisper. "Are we not supposed to talk at the table, here?"

At that, Lucía put down her fork. She was about to quietly explain to her daughter that commenting on the awkwardness of a situation did not usually help to make the situation less awkward, but she was distracted by a sudden presence beside her feet.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, pulling her legs up as well as she could into her chair. A large capybara had just settled against her and, at her exclamation, began chittering away, making a series of whistles, purrs, and clicks. "Uh…"

Antonio frowned and tilted his head, and after a moment, poked his head underneath the table. "What do you mean, Chispi?"

Lucía could have almost sworn the capybara sighed and began again, making its way closer to the boy.

Antonio brought his head back up and looked at his plate for a moment, before looking down the table toward his Mamá and Mirabel. He looked between the two of them, darting a glance at Lucía, before whispering – "Did something bad happen today?"

Pepa's face paled and a little cloud popped into existence over her head, a few snowflakes falling onto her shoulders. "What did that thing say to you, Toñito?"

Antonio blinked and looked nervous. Pepa's expression immediately softened. "Lo siento, mi querido. It's okay. What did – Chispi tell you?" (2)

"A lady yelled at Señora Moreno today in town and said mean things about her and our family. The birds told him. Why didn't anyone tell me earlier?" Antonio directed the question toward Chispi, and the animal responded with another series of clicks, grunts, and whistles. Antonio nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer.

"Is it true?" He asked.

Lucía looked around the table for a moment before nodding, and Antonio's face scrunched with worry.

"It's okay," she reassured him quickly. "I'm okay, now. It upset me, but your hermana overheard and your Abuela and Tío Bruno both came to help me. And the things she – the lady – was saying … especially about your family - well, they weren't true."

Antonio blinked. "Then why would she say them?"

Lucía hesitated, and her Papá jumped in. "The mouth speaks what the heart is full of," he muttered. (3) "And I think, perhaps – this old man and the two young children should be dismissed?" He looked pointedly toward Alma.

Alma hesitated, then nodded. "Antonio," she said gently. "Would you like to show Josefina your room?"

Josefina's whole face lit up at the idea, and she looked hopefully to Lucía. Lucía nodded her permission, and a jaguar appeared beside Antonio. Lucía's eyes widened as, after allowing Antonio to climb onto his back, the jaguar made his way around the table and paused beside Josefina.

Josefina's mouth dropped open and she looked to her mother, her eyes wide and eager.

Lucía's mouth moved for a moment before the words came out. "I…suppose, if it won't hurt him…or her…"

The jaguar made a noise that could be taken as either a grunt or a purr and Antonio smiled. "Parce says thank you for thinking of his comfort, but he can take Josefina up to my room with me, if she wants. It's safe. He can't take you, though, Señor Hernandez. Lo siento."

José shook his head. "Believe me," he said slowly. "That is fine with me." He slowly stood and held out his hand, assisting Josefina onto the jaguar's back.

"Hold on!" Antonio shouted as Parce tensed, and then bolted up the stairs and into Antonio's open door. For once, Josefina was completely silent. Lucía hoped it was in awe, and not terror.

After a moment, she heard Josefina make an excited exclamation, and relaxed. She looked to Pepa. "Will they be…?"

Pepa offered her a tentative smile. "I worry sometimes, too. But Antonio has a strong grasp on his gift. It brings him such joy, and he and his animals have a very respectful relationship."

"I'm heading up there, myself. I'm sure we'll be fine. You enjoy your conversation," Lucía's father said as he patted her hand.

Lucía wasn't sure 'enjoy' was the right word for it, but she was looking forward to getting it over with. She wasn't sure she could stand another butterfly in her stomach.

She waited until her father reached the top of the stairs and then looked expectantly at the remaining people at the table.

No one seemed to want to speak first.

"How - " Lucía began tentatively, and paused as eleven pairs of eyes focused on her. She swallowed and continued. "How much – did you all hear about – what happened today?"

Mirabel smoothed out the tablecloth in front of her. "Uh – weeeeeell - "

"When everyone got home we sent Antonio to check on his animals and had a family meeting and I told them everything. About the market." Dolores said, her voice soft and fast.

"Fat lot of good sending him to his room did, when the animals told him anyway," Pepa muttered.

"Oh." Lucía nodded, eyes drifting to the plate and cup in front of her when Dolores didn't look up to make eye contact with her. "So – so you all know - "

"We know what Tatiana Valencia said." Luisa said rapidly, her voice rising in pitch until she bit off the last word with a sob. She quickly stifled it, but it was obvious it had torn her up to hear about what had happened. Isabela and Mirabel leaned into their sister, wrapping their arms around her. Luisa patted their arms and gave them a brave, teary, smile.

"And – we – are so deeply sorry, for her actions today, and for your loss." Alma whispered. "We did everything we could. I am sorry, but - "

Lucía couldn't take the stilted conversation any longer. "She was wrong. Nothing she said was true and I don't blame any of you for what happened to Alejandro."

She looked earnestly around the table, willing them to see her sincerity. She thought – or perhaps wished – that that single statement would be enough, but it seemed that though they appreciated her reassurance, it would take more for them to truly believe her. "Pepa," she said softly.

"I – am sorry - "

"It's not your fault. In fact," she said, a sudden realization dawning on her, "I don't think I ever thanked you for all the work you did to keep the clouds away while we – while we searched for him. So - thank you." It came out as little more than a whisper.

Pepa's snow turned to a light drizzle, and she bit her lip, nodding in acknowledgment of her words. Félix took her hand in one of his and rubbed her shoulder with his other hand, and she leaned into him, tilting her face up to the rain and letting her personal cloud wash away the few tears that had escaped her.

Something unraveled in Lucía's chest, and she felt…both incredibly weak and strangely powerful, at the same time. She sent up a silent prayer for wisdom, for the right words to say to absolve this family of the guilt they'd obviously felt but hadn't acknowledged for a long time.

"Dolores," Lucía said next, her throat beginning to tighten as she realized what she should do – what the family needed and deserved, and what she needed and deserved. "You were so brave, helping to – listen for Alejandro. I don't think I'd have had the strength, at eighteen, to search like you did. I'm – I'm sorry I never thanked you properly, before. You helped, so much, and I'm thankful for you. I wish you hadn't had to do it."

Dolores made a strange, strangled sound in the back of her throat, her eyes wide and her body perfectly still. "It's not your fault," Lucía reassured her in a whisper. Pepa reached beside her and pulled her daughter into a hug.

Dolores returned it before pulling away a moment later. "I'm getting wet," she whispered, and Pepa let her go. Dolores leaned back in for another quick hug. "Worth it."

"Camilo," Lucía continued around the table. He looked in her direction – not at her, but through her - guilt and fear in his eyes. His posture was stiff and his face was blank. "It's not your fault."

His shoulders relaxed as the tension in them released, but his voice cracked as he spoke. "If I hadn't – if I hadn't made Mamí upset - "

"Camilo," Pepa interrupted. "Mi amor – you are not responsible for my emotions. I'm so sorry if I ever made you feel that way."

"I am sorry I made both of you feel so - afraid of upsetting or disappointing me," Alma added, eyes cast down.

"-And I'm grateful to you, Camilo," Lucía continued, not wanting to interrupt but also not wanting to stop before addressing everyone Tatiana had blamed earlier. "You were only twelve, but you were such a comfort to Josefina when I was deep in – in grief. I – I don't remember, entirely, but Papá said you came every day for a week - "

"I didn't – I didn't even – shift. I just – I didn't want to confuse her - "

"You didn't need to. Actually - I think - I think that was a wise decision. You helped just by being you. It gave my father and sister a much-needed break. Thank you."

There was silence for a moment, and then Félix stood up and moved to his son, wrapping him tightly in an embrace. Camilo froze for a moment, eyes wide with shock, and then returned the hug with fervor.

Félix stepped back after a moment, tears in his eyes and a grin on his face. "I didn't even realize you were there every day. You make your Papá proud, mijo. I hope you know that."

Pepa placed a hand over her heart, and a rainbow bloomed in the midst of her raincloud.

Camilo nodded, a bit embarrassed but obviously pleased. "Gracias, Papí."

"And Mirabel," added Lucía, turning to the girl at the end of the table, near Alma. "You checked on us – on Josefina - for months afterward. Every week. You made her doll Beatriz a new dress to wear. When we finally began doing things again, in the community – you made sure to invite Josefina into the games, the groups of children. You made it easier for her to be a part of the community again. Thank you, for looking after my little girl. For thinking of us."

Mirabel shrugged nervously as everyone looked at her, shock written on their faces. This was obviously news to them. "It – it was just – I was already getting books, and it's not like – I had anything else to do - " several faces looked a bit guilty at that, but she plowed on – " - and I thought – she was so little, and she might want – a – cheerful face?"

She darted a look at Lucía before hastily adding, "Not that your face wasn't cheerful! I just meant – ah - "

"When she was confused and our routine as a family had completely changed, it always made her day to see you." Lucía smiled warmly at her, tears in her eyes. Alma reached to Mirabel and held her hand, gentle pride evident on her face.

She blinked rapidly and looked at the next Madrigal. "Luisa," she said softly, and Luisa looked up at her. Tears were already streaming down the girl's face. Ah, but Luisa always loved her stories as a child, and Lucía had such a soft spot for this gentle giant of a girl. "Cariño, it's not your fault. I - " she had to wait for a moment while Luisa let out a sob, and Julieta moved to wrap her arms around her daughter, murmuring soothing words into her hair. Agustín hovered nearby. A lump formed in Lucía's throat that was hard to swallow. It was so awkward to be doing this around the table – her instinct was to hold, to touch, to comfort – but she couldn't reach anyone now that Julieta had left the seat beside her, and she felt rooted to the spot. If she stood, she might break whatever spell held everyone else at the table, too. She wanted to finish this, and so she pressed on, despite still feeling as though she were tripping over her words.

Lucía held Luisa's own tear-filled gaze. "You were – you are – such a - a sensitive soul. You have a strong heart, and you were so brave. And I am so grateful for you, and for your help. I am sorry you had to – to help find him. And I'm sorry that it hurt you to do so."

Luisa cried into her mother's shoulder for a moment, and then nodded and sniffed loudly.

"Isabela," Lucía continued, and the young woman gave her a tremulous smile. "It is not your fault. None of it. Alejandro - " her voice caught, and she paused. "He was very stubborn. Even if you had grown him everything he wanted, he still would've gone out into the mountains for inspiration of some sort. He would have loved to see what you're doing, now. You are an artist, Isabela, and I'm glad you are here. We – we always need more artists in the world."

Isabela's eyes widened. It obviously wasn't what she expected, but Lucía hoped it was what she needed to hear.

Lucía turned and held out a hand to Julieta, who stepped away from Luisa and back to her seat to take it. She squeezed it gently. "Julieta, you are a wonder. Thank you for doing everything you could to help Alejandro."

Julieta's eyes filled with tears, and Agustín layed a hand on his wife's shoulder. "I did my best," she whispered. "I'm sorry it wasn't enough."

"It was enough. I felt your love and support and your desire to help. It was enough."

Bruno watched the scene unfold with powerfully clashing emotions.

On the one hand, he felt overwhelmed with awe at the selfless grace Lucía was showing his family. She'd obviously felt awkward at the start, but had gotten more sure of herself as she went along, and now she was practically radiating compassion, her own tears forgotten as she spoke with Julieta.

And then she turned her warm brown eyes toward him, her lashes damp with tears, and his heart stuttered.

Here came the clash – the guilt, the longing to change the past, and the feeling of utter failure. It wasn't that he blamed himself directly for Alejandro's death. No – ironically, he knew that if he had had a vision of the man's death – there would have been no preventing it. His visions always came true. He was relieved he hadn't seen it; that he hadn't had to warn this little family he'd grown so fond of of their impending tragedy.

And that relief was what made him feel so incredibly guilty. Because if he'd stayed – if he hadn't been hiding in the walls – perhaps things would have been different. He hadn't seen it, so maybe it wouldn't have been set in stone. Perhaps him being home, with his family, would have changed something along the way in that series of events that led up to the accident. Maybe a vision long before the accident would have changed things, somehow.

And a little part of him feared that maybe – if he had been home – like always – he would've somehow taken the brunt of the blame. And if he'd taken the brunt of the blame, then his family – especially his little sobrinos – wouldn't have carried the burden of guilt for so long.

He blinked.

Lucía was talking to him, now.

"I hope you don't blame yourself, Bruno," she said softly, still holding his gaze. "But if you do – I want you to know it wasn't your fault. Whether you had seen it happen or not, you did not make Alejandro take a risky trip through the mountains in the middle of the wet season. None of you did."

She looked at her hands, twisting in her lap, and darted a look around the table before settling back on him. "He chose that himself, and the consequences were – much more than he could have anticipated. And I'm – I wish it had not happened, the way it did. I wish it hadn't happened at all. But just because I wish things were different doesn't mean I hold you accountable for the way things are now. I don't blame you." She looked up and met his mother's gaze. "I don't blame any of you. I don't think there's anything to forgive – but if you feel you need it, you have it. And you have my thanks."

There was silence for a long moment, and Lucía bit her lip. "That's all I wanted to say," she concluded.

"Oh. That's all?" Camilo muttered, halfway between sarcasm and teasing, to break the silence.

Lucía laughed, just a bit. And then her eyes suddenly widened. "Oh! Thank you Félix, Agustín, for all your help, after – afterwards." She turned back to Bruno and his mamá. "And thank you, Señora Madrigal, for – ah - interrupting Tatiana."

"It was my pleasure." Alma said crisply. Several laughs escaped from those around the table.

"And thank you again, Bruno, for watching Diego so I could talk with Sofia. You helped more than you know." There was that smile and those eyes again, directed right at him. He felt his ears warm at the attention.

"Is that where you went?" Alma asked Bruno, surprised. "I didn't know. I thought - " she stopped and shook her head, and smiled at him.

He gave her a weak smile in return, twisting his ruana over and over again in his lap. She probably thought he'd hidden away in his tower and hadn't bothered to ask Dolores where he was. Not that he blamed her, that's what he'd done for years. Not to mention she'd been concerned about how to discuss everything with the family.

His mamá stared at her plate for a long moment, her face softening and her brows drawing together at some private thought. The silence stretched until she shook her head and looked toward their guest.

Her lips twitched into a half-smile. "Gracias, Lucía. You are – very gracious. You've given us much to think on, and much to let go of. We appreciate your family, and we thank you." Her face brightened – Bruno thought, perhaps, deliberately – and she stood. "Shall we move to the sitting room for some coffee and cocadas de piña?"

"Muah-hahahahaha!" Bruno laughed dramatically, his voice low and menacing. "Now, the inheritance will be mine!" He clicked his tongue and Rafael, the villainous rat, dropped a soft round seedpod, painted to look like a rat-sized boulder, from his place on the shelf. It fell to the side table below him, and landed on Lareina, who squeaked dramatically and flattened herself out onto said table.

"Noooo!" Bruno changed his voice once again, making it breathy and dramatic. "Lareina, mi amor!" Valentino rushed over, sniffing at her prone form.

Bruno whipped out a prop picture of two men dueling and held it up to the small shelf, and both Rafael and Lorenzo popped their heads through the head-holes.

"Ay! Villainous scum!" Bruno said in Lorenzo's strong male lead voice. "You dare harm a lady?!"

"Fool!" Bruno-as-Rafael shouted. "She is not a mere lady. She will be the ruin of us all!"

("Oh mi amor, mi amor, speak to me!" Bruno-as-Valentino pleaded, oblivious to the ongoing battle on the shelf above him.)

"She is an angel!"

"She is his aunt!" Bruno-as-Rafael snarled.

"And – end scene." Dramatic gasps filled the air as Bruno concluded his latest episode of his rat telenovela. He turned to the rest of the people in the sitting room – his family and Lucía's - settled comfortably on the couches and chairs and on the floor.

"Will Lorenzo tell Valentino what he just learned? Will that truth affect his feelings for Lareina? Will Lareina survive? Find out, on the next episode of – Somos Todos Ratas Enamorados!" With that, Bruno took a dramatic bow to the smattering of applause and then acknowledged his rat actors and actress with a wave of his arm. Lareina popped up and squeaked enthusiastically, and he held out his hand. She hopped up onto him, followed quickly by Lorenzo, Valentino, and Rafael.

"Tío, that was amazing!" Luisa exclaimed.

"We have to wait all the way until the next episode to find out what happens to Lareina? It was so short!" Camilo groaned and flopped backward into Isabela's lap, and then laughed as Mirabel leaned over and hit him square in the face with a pillow.

"Who needs quality programming now, primo?" She teased.

"Tío! You actually trained Rafael and Lareina to act! The little boulder, and the dramatic little faint! It was genius!" Dolores squealed, bouncing with excitement.

Bruno blushed at the attention and sat crossed legged at the foot of the nearest couch, pulling out the cheese Josefina gave him before the performance as a reward for his little performers.

Josefina sat beside Antonio on the floor, nestled comfortably against his jaguar Parce with Pablo, her personal favorite rat, in her lap. She fed him a little piece of cheese as well.

"It was brilliant. I've never seen a performance quite like that," Lucía said, grinning from ear to ear.

Retiring to the sitting room to enjoy Julieta's cocadas de piñas had crumbled the last bit of tension from dinner to a dust that was swept away as soon as Antonio and Josefina emerged from his room with José Hernandez. The man had dryly requested a washcloth, as one of the birds in Antonio's room had relieved himself on his shoulder.

Antonio was embarrassed and kept apologizing until José looked him straight in the eye and reassured him that "Everyone poops, niño. Next time I will try to look less like a tree, and then perhaps your friend will not mistake me for a toilet."

At that, both Josefina and Antonio had laughed and laughed, and although the thing they were laughing at wasn't that hilarious, their laughter was contagious. Things had begun tapering off until a bird flew into the room and settled onto Antonio's shoulder – and José scooted away from him dramatically.

Just when everyone had stopped chuckling for a second time, Camilo shifted into José again and addressed the bird on Antonio's shoulder – "Ay. Have you seen my tree impersonation?" And it started again. It wasn't really all that funny, but they'd all desperately latched onto something to lighten the mood and it worked.

When everyone had finally settled down, the tension was gone and it felt like it had before, those last few nights at Lucía's house. Pepa, Julieta, Isabela, and Dolores had spoken with Lucía, and Mirabel, Camilo, and Luisa had joked with Antonio and Josefina. José had sat speaking with Alma and Félix and Agustín, and Bruno had perched awkwardly in between the two adult groups. He was not excluded but not fully involved in either conversation, until Lucía had turned to him and asked if he'd made any progress with his telenovela.

And thus began an impromptu performance of an episode he'd been practicing all week. It wasn't entirely perfected, but everyone had liked it. A lot.

Isabela stood and walked to the makeshift stage, picking up the little seedpod 'boulder' and examining it in her hands. "This is really neat. I bet I could make a lot of light little rat props like this, if you wanted me to."

"And we could make a stage. A real one." Luisa suggested shyly.

"Oh!" Dolores squeaked suddenly, and everyone stopped to look at her, concerned.

She shook her head. "No, no, no – it's not – not that. But, Tía, you may need to see Osvaldo tomorrow for some indigestion. But that's not – what I meant. What I meant," she said, eyes gleaming and wide as she turned to Bruno, "is that I had an idea. What if you wrote a story to perform at La Feria de Las Flores?" (4)

Bruno froze, Lorenzo still nibbling a piece of cheese from his fingers.

Mirabel gasped and began bouncing with excitement, and turned her own large, pleading eyes to her tío. "Tío!"

Camilo joined Isa at the table-stage and bit his cheek, appraising the scene before him. "You'd need a proper stage, like Luisa said. Mira could make actual curtains. Maybe Antonio could help you teach them to act for the entire play, so you wouldn't need these props anymore." He picked up the drawing of two men dueling. He nodded. "It could work."

"No no no no no no no. No." Bruno shook himself from his stupor and immediately began protesting. "I mean – in front of you guys? Yes. In front of some kids – some friends?" He inclined his head toward Lucía and Josefina. "Sure. Maybe. But the whole village? At La Feria de Las Flores? No way. Nuh-uh. Not. Going. To Happen."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest to keep the anxiety there at bay.

"Why not?!" Josefina exclaimed, lurching forward suddenly. "You could practice! At storytime! Couldn't he, Mamá?" She turned to Lucía.

Lucía looked thoughtful. "Of course. But it would have to be – appropriate for all ages. For the festival." She frowned, obviously recalling Tatiana's rant earlier in the day.

"You could help, Mamá! You know what's 'propriate!" Josefina said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Whoa now," Bruno said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Don't go volunteering your mama for editing duty. And don't you all go volunteering me for – for performance duty!" He chastised the rest of his sobrinos.

Lucía was quiet in the midst of the teasing and chatter, and José nudged her gently with his knee. "You used to tell a story at the festival, querida. Remember?"

Lucía smiled. "I remember."

After a beat, her Papá nudged her again. "Do you want to begin doing so again?"

Lucía sighed, thinking.

"Now is a good opportunity to work with someone, if you don't want to do it alone."

She bit her lip, and stared at Bruno, who was enduring the good-natured pleading and teasing of his sobrinos. Even Félix and Agustín had joined in, and she could tell his resolve was crumbling, though he still wasn't sold on the idea.

When she woke up that morning, she was not expecting to tackle her grief and anger head-on. She was not anticipating having hard conversations with her family or with the Madrigals. She was exhausted – she felt like she'd been knocked flat on her backside, emotionally speaking - but at the same time – she felt so – relieved. So unburdened. Hadn't she recently promised herself to try again, to find joy in the things she used to? She had released her anger and was ready to move forward. This could be the perfect first step.

"If you want to, we could do it together," she offered, turning to Bruno. Her voice sounded loud in the sudden quiet between jokes and teases from the Madrigal family.

Bruno looked up, brushing Camilo off and staring at her. "Really?"

She wasn't sure if his tone was one of pleased surprised or of dread. "Only if you want to. I was thinking – of trying it again, this year. But I'm not sure if I'm ready to do it alone, yet, either. We could work together? But only if you want to," she repeated.

"Oooh, how can he say no to that?" Camilo said, eyebrows raised thoughtfully and looking nonchalantly between the two older adults.

"He can," Lucía said. "He can say no if he doesn't want to do it."

"Okay." Bruno said after a moment. "Okay, we can – try. I mean it's – what – two months away? But we're not signing up yet, it's not official" he said sternly to his sobrinos. "We'll just – see where it goes?"

Lucía nodded. "Okay. We'll see where it goes."

Camilo perched lazily behind his Papí on the couch, balancing on the edge. "I'd like to see where this goes," he muttered, quirking his eyebrow.

Félix smacked him lightly in the arm, and Camilo flailed for a moment before falling off.

A/N:

Lucía and Bruno will be spending a lot of time together. Muahahaha.

1) Just a little note on my story's timeframe. I'm assuming Alma and Pedro fled their home in the early 1900s. This would place the current story in the 1950s. So television, radio, electricity, etc. are or are becoming a more common thing in the world at large, but the Encanto has been isolated for so long they're not exactly keeping up with the times. So even though the Encanto does not have electricity yet, they know about those things because of a few travelers who come and go (like villagers on supply runs and Señora Ruiz). And Bruno, of course, could see these inventions before they were invented. Hence the telenovelas (and other peoples' acceptance of them) in a place that has no electricity.

2) Lo siento, mi querido – I'm sorry, my dear.

3) "The mouth speaks what the heart is full of" – Luke 6:45, Bible verse

4) La Feria de las Flores – Colombian flower festival, held in August each year. According to Jared Bush, Antonio's birthday is May 21st, and their doors show up on their fifth birthday. So in attempting to keep with that timeline, the movie takes place late May, and in my story, the Casita is back and the kids are back in school in early June. Hence 2 months until the flower festival. (Also, in many places in Colombia, the school year runs from end of January/beginning of February to middle or end of November, with short breaks in April, June, and October. So the long break is actually November – January. In my story the kids will follow this schedule and be in school throughout most of June, July, and August, until the flower festival.)

I leave for vacation this weekend so no update next week! Next update should be Wednesday April 13th.

Anyway, as always – thank you for reading, and for taking the time to review. You're all amazing and I appreciate your support. God bless you all and have a wonderful week!