20. Chapter 20

A/N: Edited 7/5/22 for spelling and grammar.

Chapter 20

It didn't take long for Josefina to come to a bridge over a stream along the main road. The road had seen a lot of improvement the past few weeks – it had been made wider, so that near town, two carts could pass each other without going off of it, and the cobblestone in town had been extended quite a ways down the road. It only turned to dirt and loose stone after the bridge.

Josefina had not planned on the bridge being under construction. She heard voices as she approached, and – not wanting to come face to face with some stick-in-the-mud grown-up who would send her home – she quickly ran into the trees. Once her heart stopped pounding from fear at being caught, she crept closer to the bridge, staying carefully in the trees, and peered out from behind a large fern.

Several villagers, along with Luisa Madrigal, were working on the bridge. They were trying to make it wider, so Luisa had taken the whole thing off the road, and they were using the good pieces of the old bridge to help make the new one. Señor Martinez was there, and so were several other young men and women.

She watched them for a few minutes, frowning, and turned to look at the stream. She couldn't cross on the bridge; there was no bridge at the moment and the grown-ups would make her go home if they saw her. It wasn't too deep, but the stream was wide, and if she crossed right here, she'd be spotted. She puffed out her cheek and thought.

She was determined to make it to San Cristobál and back before dinner. She could do it; she knew she could. She couldn't cross here, but if she followed the stream, she could cross in another shallow place, and then follow the stream back to the road. It would be okay. This would just make the trip a little longer. But she could do it.

Her decision made, Josefina adjusted the strap on her mochila and set out along the stream, taking care not to walk too close lest someone on the bridge spot her.

It was an adventure! The jungle was alive with colors and sounds and the warm sun filtered down through the leaves, glistening off of spider webs and highlighting rainbow-hued, fragrant flowers that filled the air with their perfume. Water splashed along in the stream beside her, and every now and then, some animal would dart away into a tree or bush as she approached. She wished she had Antonio's gift; she'd ask them to keep her company. Or keep on the lookout for any grown-ups.

After a while, Josefina's tummy growled. She was having so much fun walking along in the forest beside the stream and climbing over large tree roots that she'd lost track of the time. She frowned. It was probably close to lunchtime, now. And she hadn't even crossed the stream, yet!

She looked behind her, and the bridge was nowhere to be seen. Well, that was good. If Josefina couldn't see them, they definitely couldn't see her. She scampered down to the stream, half-sliding down the slick embankment, and peered across it. Thankfully, it was still fairly shallow. In fact, large rocks poked out of the top of the stream, and the water made funny splashing sounds as it slapped against them. She took off her shoes so they wouldn't get too wet and cautiously stepped one foot into the cool water.

"Oooh, it's cold!" Josefina shrieked, and then laughed to herself. Oh, well. She stretched one leg out to the nearest rock, and haphazardly pushed off the stream bank with the other. She made her way across the stream, picking out the larger rocks and stepping across them, flailing her arms to keep her balance. She got more confident as she went along, almost hopping – until she landed on one that was wet with moss and spray from the stream and slipped.

"Eeeeeeeeee!" She shrieked and flailed and fell to the side, into the cold water. Her hip hit the side of one of the larger rocks and her elbow and knee both scraped the bottom of the stream, but her other hand held her shoes high above her head.

"Ow." She half-lay, half-sat there for a moment, icy water seeping into her clothes. She shivered, and slowly picked herself up out of the stream, accidentally slipping and putting her hand with the shoes in the water as well. She made a little whimpering noise in the back of her throat as she stood.

She inspected her elbow and knee and rubbed her hip, but there wasn't more than a bruise or scratch on any of them. "I'll be okay," she whispered to herself. "I'll be fine."

She suddenly felt very alone, standing shin-deep in the stream in the middle of the jungle with no one else around. A little tendril of fear sprouted in her belly. She blinked back tears and shook her head. "I'm okay!" She said stubbornly. "I'm okay!" She shuffled carefully to the other edge of the stream and attempted to climb out, but the edge of the bank was slick and she couldn't get a good grasp on anything to pull herself up. Sighing, she shuffled along with her bare feet in the stream, back in the direction of the bridge and the main road, until there was a clear space in the slick tree roots and stones. She climbed up, and and just ahead of her, in the midst of some large ferns, she spotted a rare, bright patch of sunlight in a grassy area. She wrung out the damp bits of her hair and her clothes as best she could, and she put her shoes in the sunlight to dry. She sat down in the warm grass and hugged herself, taking a deep breath. "Okay," she whispered. "I crossed the stream. Now I can go back, and get to the road, and get to San Cristobál. And on the way home, I'll stay on the road, because by then, it won't matter if anyone sees me. I'll be going home."

Her stomach growled again.

"After I have lunch."

She pulled out the arepas from her mochila, which had gotten a bit wet when she fell into the stream. She ate what she could and tossed the rest into the stream for the birds and the fish. She drank some of her water, and ate one of the bananas she'd brought. It was okay, but not as good as a papaya or mango. She loved juicy fruits, and bananas were definitely not juicy. But those other ones she'd need a knife to cut into, and she didn't have one of those.

After her belly was full, she suddenly felt extremely tired.

She'd been up all night worrying, and then she'd had to carry that silleta almost all the way to school, and she'd had such a long walk through the jungle, and the little patch of grass in the sun was so very warm on her cold skin.

She'd just rest here until her shoes dried.

And then she'd go to San Cristobál.

Even with the door to Bruno's vision room closed, Dolores heard the cry.

It was the long, loud cry of a woman - in shock or fear or agony, she couldn't tell - and it cut off as quickly as it began.

She'd slept in that morning after spending Sunday evening with Mariano and his familia. It had been such a long, wonderful night. Though it was closer to lunch than breakfast, she was only now sitting at the table to eat, having just emerged from her room, and made herself some huevos pericos and a reheated arepa with some hot chocolate. She froze for only a moment at the cry before racing up the stairs and to her tío's room, where her padre, who had been waiting outside Bruno's door, took one look at her face and followed her. The two ran up the stairs to the vision room.

Neither Félix nor Dolores were prepared for the scene that greeted them.

"Gracias, Señor Madrigal. Gracias, Gracias a Dios for your help." Juan Carlos and Andrea pulled Bruno in to a tight embrace, each of them hanging on to his shoulder, his ruana, his arms for dear life. All three of them were crying, and Bruno couldn't get a word out past his trembling lips.

In one of his hands dangled a green vision tablet.

Félix stepped forward, hesitantly. "Hermano? Primo?"

Juan Carlos released his hold on Bruno and pulled Félix into an embrace just as tight as the one he'd given Bruno. "We'll miss you, primo. We'll miss our home, we'll miss you all. But we're leaving. We're leaving. Because – if we leave – we'll find a treatment. Félix, our Marisol - she will live."

Dolores' eyes pricked with tears, still somewhat confused. "But I – I heard - "

Andrea released Bruno as well, and he probably would have collapsed to his knees if Félix hadn't immediately grabbed his arm and propped him up.

Andrea pulled Dolores in for a hug. "I saw mi hija die, Lola," she murmured into the younger woman's hair. The vision had taken much longer than most as they looked through every image of the vision for butterflies, searching for every possible outcome. They'd begun early that morning and had only just finished. If Juan Carlos and Andrea made a very specific series of choices - leave Encanto, travel to Bogotá, then to los Estados Unidos - to a place called Boston - there would be a man who could help them. They saw his name on a plaque outside a door - Dr. Sidney Farber. And if they got to him - Marisol would live. (1) Any deviation from that path led to her death.

"But although I saw her die - I also saw her live. I was prepared to see the first, I was – overcome with emotion when I saw the second. I think – I think I scared your tío - " she turned back to him and fresh tears pooled out of her eyes and down her cheeks. "Lo siento, Bruno Madrigal. Lo siento, I am sorry you had to see that; I am sorry you had to witness all of that."

Bruno opened his mouth, but words still would not come.

Andrea pulled him toward her and kissed him twice, once on each cheek. "You have saved us, and we will hold you in our hearts forever. Gracias."

Juan Carlos did the same, offering Bruno a kiss on each cheek.

It took them another fifteen minutes to leave, promising to return and say goodbye before they left the Encanto for good. They were eager to leave, but would wait until after the Festival, as it would take at least a week to prepare everything anyway.

Félix and Dolores guided Bruno down the stairs. Alma waited at the bottom, concern evident on her face. Casita had brought her to Bruno's room as soon as Dolores sprang up from her breakfast in a hurry. "Bruno?" She whispered.

He waved her concern away and allowed Félix and Dolores to guide him to his bed.

"Water?" He asked, his voice hoarse. He closed his eyes and lay sprawled there. Lareina, Lorenzo, and Valentino, along with several other rats, scampered up the bed posts. Several stood sentinel by his head, and some curled up near his chest, their warmth and light weight a reassurance to him.

Dolores ran to fetch it, and Alma and Félix crowded around him. The rest of the family was either at school or working in town. "Are you okay?" Félix asked quietly. "You want me to go get Julieta?"

Bruno shook his head. They sat beside him, waiting. Dolores returned with the water and he propped himself up on a shaky elbow to drink it, before flopping back down on his back.

"Brunito," Alma whispered, clutching one of his hands, her other hand fluttering around his face, smoothing back curls and stroking his cheek.

Once again, Bruno waved away her concern. "M'okay," he mumbled. "Just tired. It was – a lot. A lot to look into. A lot to see. A lot that was – hard. I haven't worked my gift that hard in a long time. I just – need a nap."

Alma pulled a blanket from the foot of the bed and covered him with it, resisting the urge to shoo his rats away. "Then a nap you shall have, mi amor." She tucked him in tenderly, as though he was still a child, and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

"Ma," he protested, but he was already half asleep, and his lips curled into a smile. He couldn't wait to tell Lucía what had happened - but he could scarcely keep his eyes open. He felt warm and at peace and exhausted, but it was the good kind of exhaustion - the kind that came from the hard work of doing something good and worthwhile.

Josefina had fallen asleep. She'd curled into a ball amongst the ferns at the side of the gurgling stream, shivering slightly. The sound of the splashing water had lulled her to sleep, and the warmth of the sun kept her comfortable enough.

Her breathing was slow and quiet and even, her mouth open just a bit, her cheek resting on her folded hands.

"Lo – lo siento muchísimo, Señora Moreno. Pero – I thought – I thought Josefina was ill, or tired – I thought you dropped off the silleta for her classmates to present. But – Señora – Josefina never came to school this morning." (2) Señora Lopez's expression had morphed from confusion to fear when she'd explained to Lucía that she hadn't seen Josefina all morning.

Lucía forgot to breathe.

It felt as though her heart was stuck in her throat, and when her brain finally screamed at her to take a breath, it came out as a ragged gasp.

She'd intended to give Josefina a good lecture on communicating her whereabouts and asking persmission before going off to school – or a friends' house for lunch – alone.

But she hadn't ever showed up for school, even though her silleta had.

Her heart burst into a rapid, panicked staccato at the realization that her baby was missing. She managed to communicate with Seńora Lopez that yes, she would notify the Madrigals and the Council, and yes, Señora Lopez should search the school grounds and wait there for any children returning from lunch in order to ask them if they'd seen her.

"Papá, Josefina! – Josefina is missing." Lucía managed to get the words out, not even bothering to completely enter the door to the shop. She had attempted to stay calm as she ran home, but now that she was here, and Josefina was not – as she said those words out loud - it was difficult to stay calm. "I went to the school to check on her and Señora Lopez said she never showed up. The silleta was there – her class project was there – but Josefina was not!" Lucía attempted to stem the panic she felt as the words left her mouth, but it flowed freely and curled around her heart, squeezing it painfully.

Papá looked up from his work at his desk in the shop and stood. "The silleta was there, but she was not?" He frowned, and the deep crease in his brows made Lucía's hands tremble.

"No. I mean – yes. Señora Lopez said she assumed Josefina was sick and we'd dropped the project off for the rest of her classmates. She's going to stay at the school to ask the students when they return from lunch if they've seen her, and if we haven't found her by then, she'll send them home. If we need - " She wheezed unexpectedly.

She was going to say 'if we need to form a search party', but the words stuck in her throat.

The last time their family needed to ask the Encanto to form a search party, her husband was found under a pile of mud and rocks and had died days later.

She blocked that thought as effectively as she could and squared her shoulders, her hand to her chest. Lord willing, Josefina would be fine. She would do everything in her power to find her and then she'd scold her and Josefina would pout but she would be fine. She had to function, she had to stay in control for her bebé. Dios te salve, María… (3)

"Papá," she gasped, "Ask the neighbors if they've seen her, por favor. When you're done, por favor - come back and stay here, in case she returns on her own. I'll go to the Madrigals and ask if they can help find her. I'll stop at Sofia's on the way to ask her to alert the Council."

Papá nodded. "I will search, and return, and pray. Perhaps Dolores has heard her already."

Lucía paused. When she'd said she was going to go to the Madrigals, Dolores had not been the first person on her mind. It was Bruno she wanted. She shook her head and tried to breathe deeply. Now was not the time to be una pelota. (4) Her worry must be affecting her ability to reason. Bruno was her friend, but of course she should ask Dolores for help. Perhaps Dolores had heard Josefina already this morning and could tell her right where to find her wayward daughter.

Lucía prayed it was true. She pushed off the doorframe and broke into a run.

Lucía knocked on the door to Casita after stopping to alert her sister, breathing hard. When it didn't immediately swing open, she stepped back and addressed the house directly. "Casita – please – let me in. I need - "

The door swung open and Dolores stood on the other side, frowning. "Josefina is missing?" Dolores asked, her voice quiet and nervous.

"Sí," Lucía nodded. "I can't – she took – she went to school, early, and I didn't – she never came home, but she never actually went there. Well – she did, but - "

"I heard. Come in," Dolores said, grabbing her hand and pulling her inside.

The rest of the family appeared in the courtyard, in various stages of returning from work and school for the lunch hour. "What's wrong?" Mirabel asked, concern knotting her brow.

"Josefina is missing!" Lucía's voice shook as she attempted to explain. "She – she left early for school today with a project and the project is there but Señora Lopez said she never came, and I – I - " She swallowed and turned to Dolores. "Have you heard anything?"

Dolores flushed and looked guiltily at the floor. "I – I slept in this morning. I didn't – I didn't listen in on the village when I woke up, but I didn't – I didn't hear anything particularly concerning that grabbed my attention, either. And – then – Tío Bruno – " she darted a concerned glance at Félix as her voice trailed off.

Lucía's head jerked up and she scanned the courtyard for him, but didn't see him. "Is Bruno okay? Where is he?" She suddenly had such a strong desire to see him, to have him hold her hand and tell her everything would be okay. Her fingers twitched and she balled them into a fist.

Alma stepped forward, her face uncertain. She, too, looked between Félix and Dolores before settling back on Lucía. "Bruno is fine. He – had a particularly difficult vision this morning, and it tired him out. He is sleeping, but he is fine."

"A – difficult vision?" That's right. He'd told her about the vision for little Marisol. She felt guilty for forgetting. She'd promised to come see him after lunch today, to see how it went – but then Josefina hadn't come home. Lucía's heart couldn't handle anymore bad news at the moment.

"It went well, but he needs to rest," Alma said apologetically. "But Dolores will - " she caught herself. "Dolores, mija, would you be willing to help Lucía?"

"Of course, Abuela." Dolores stood in the center of the courtyard, her brows furrowed in concentration.

Lucía felt a small tug on her hand, and looked down to see the worried face of Antonio. "Lo siento, Señora Moreno," he apologized softly. "When – when Josefina didn't come this morning, I just thought – I thought she was tired or not feeling well and that you brought the project for her."

Lucía squeezed his hand, attempting to offer him reassurance she herself did not yet feel. "It's alright, Antonio. It will be okay. It's not your fault."

"Señor Hernandez has told all the surrounding neighbors. They're searching their houses and shops." Dolores paused, focusing. "Señora Lopez is still waiting for the students to return from lunch. She and the other teachers are looking around the school grounds. Señora Rojas has sent her oldest niñosto alert their padre to search on this side of town, and she has almost reached the Town Hall with Diego." She paused to give Lucía a small smile. "Abuela will leave soon to join the Council. Don't worry, Señora Moreno. We'll find her."

She took a deep breath, planted her feet firmly shoulder width apart on the stones of Casita's courtyard floor, and closed her eyes.

The rest of the family held their breath and stayed still and quiet as she listened.

Dolores tilted her head this way and that, turning slightly to focus in on the various sounds and voices in town.

As soon as she'd heard Lucía's panicked cry to her father in their home, she'd begun searching the town for Josefina. She'd done a quick skim of the village, searching for Josefina's voice, and hadn't heard her. She'd just begun searching more deeply when Lucía showed up at the door.

Dolores painstakingly pushed her gift out, little by little – beginning with Casita. (Though she didn't think Josefina was there, it didn't hurt to check. After all, her tío had lived in the walls, unnoticed by everyone but her, for a decade.) Then, the road to the village, and through each house, pausing when she heard the quiet sounds of a person in them, moving on once their movements or voices revealed it was not Josefina.

She continued going through the village, listening in at each home, each shop, each yard or garden plot, until she'd reached the fields and orchards on the outskirts of town, past the last of the shops and homes. People had already begun branching out and searching, which was good – except – while she could generally differentiate amongst people in town, the farther away the person was, the more difficult it was to tell who they were unless they spoke. Footsteps and heartbeats and breaths and the general noise of being a person overlapped with the noises of the jungle, and it was hard to focus in on who, exactly, was making each particular sound – was the branch breaking she heard to the west a person walking, or a monkey? Was that sigh to the north a little girl, or a capybara? Working with Señora Ruiz had helped her learn to listen to the different animal calls, but attempting to push out in all directions at once made it too confusing. And now that there were additional people stepping out into the fields and jungle – it actually made it more difficult to center in on which human sounds were searchers, and which were potentially lost little girls.

She blinked and frowned, uneasy. She looked toward the people standing frozen around her and shook her head, just the tiniest bit. "I can't hear her in town," she whispered apologetically.

Lucía blinked and fought back the panic rising in her chest, pressing her trembling hands into her skirts. If she was going to help Josefina, she needed to stay calm. "If – if she's not in town – where is she?" She whispered.

Dolores bit her lip.

Alma stepped forward, gently taking Lucía's arm and guiding her toward the front door of Casita. "Mirabel and I will alert Padre Tomás and then join the Council. We will call a meeting in the town square to form a more organized search. We will have everyone check their homes and their shops, just in case, and then we will send out a search party, as we did for Mirabel. Is there any reason you can think of that she would leave town?"

"No!" Lucía protested. "She was so happy, so excited to present her project today! She is so excited for the festival! Why would she leave?"

Why would she leave? Guilt covered her like a blanket as she realized how busy she'd been the past week – how distracted she'd been, practicing for the play with Bruno while also continuing her story times and helping her father in the shop. Josefina had been sneaking out of her room just last night to check on her project – she'd assumed it was her typical excitement keeping her from sleep, but what if there was more? She didn't have a clue where to begin to search for her, or why she would just disappear.

Lucía dug her heels into the ground as she realized she was at the door. "Where – what – why are – what are we doing? What about Bruno?" She didn't even know why she was asking for him, she just knew she wanted him to know.

He would want to know.

Alma squeezed her hand reassuringly. "We will all help, as we always do. Isabela, will you please go see Luisa on the main road? I know she and the other villagers were planning on working there all day, but you can ask if they've seen her and let them know to return to town to help search. Actually – perhaps one or two could stay near the bridge, in case she shows up on the road?" Isabela nodded and took off, her colorful hair flying behind her. As she reached the trees along the road, vines reached down from the trees to her outstretched arms, carrying her further and faster to Luisa.

Alma turned to Lucía. "You may choose what you wish to do, of course. You may stay here, or return home or come with me to the Town Hall, but I recommend staying with Dolores. She can hear and update you as soon as possible if anyone finds her."

Lucía nodded.

"Dolores - will you walk the perimeter of town with Lucía, listening into the jungle for Josefina? Antonio – will you send one of your birds to accompany them? That way if they find something, it can act as a messenger." Here, Alma paused.

"Actually - Pepa, do you mind if Antonio stays with Mirabel and I?"

Pepa looked to Félix, and he nodded in encouragement. "He can assist you, Mamá, if he is up for it."

Antonio nodded. "I want to help."

Alma took the boy's hand, crouching down to speak kindly to him. "Toñito, please listen carefully, okay?"

Antonio nodded.

"Please ask one of your animal friends to accompany each member of the family. Preferably animals that can move quickly back to us to relay messages to you, and ones that would be able to carry a piece of paper to return a message. This way, we can share information without all of us having to return to Casita or the town hall."

Antonio nodded seriously. "So I should ask them to be messengers? They'll go with Dolores and Milo and Tía and everyone and come back to us – to me and you and Mirabel – if they find anything?"

"Sí, very good, querido. Also – can you ask your animal friends who are not being messengers to search the jungle for Josefina? Tell them to come back to you and tell you if they find her."

"Parce has a good sense of smell. Maybe he can try and smell her?" Antonio asked in a small voice.

"Tracking! Excellent idea, mijo," Félix said, placing a hand on his small son's shoulder. Antonio smiled up at him.

Mirabel and Alma quickly gave directions to the rest of the family – Julieta would stay at Casita and wait, cooking food in case it was needed. Pepa would stay with her, monitoring the weather and attempting to keep skies clear for the search. Agustín and Felix would assist organizing the rest of the village in town. Camilo would accompany Parce to la Casa Hernandez to pick up Josefina's scent and attempt to track her. He would shift into Antonio to ride with the jaguar, even if they couldn't understand each other. Pepa fretted about this for a moment, but Antonio reassured his madre that Parce would not get lost or leave Camilo alone in the jungle.

Lucía was thankful for the calm, reassuring manner in which Alma and Mirabel took the lead – but she still couldn't help but ask – "And Bruno?" She asked quietly.

Alma straightened from her position near Antonio and returned to Lucía, who was still waiting to the side of Casita's main door beside Dolores. "Lucía," she murmured apologetically. "Lo siento, pero Bruno – he had a hard morning. I would not keep him from you if he did not need to rest. But as soon as he awakes, I will tell Julieta and Pepa to send him to find you. Lo prometo."

Lucía nodded, her thoughts a whirlwind. "Okay. Okay. Gracias, Señora Madrigal. Gracias."

Lucía held onto hope as tightly as she held to Dolores' arm, as she and Dolores began walking the perimeter of the village. Dolores paused every few moments to focus her gift into the jungle. It was easier to focus and sort through the many sounds when she wasn't trying to hear everything at once, though it still took a lot of concentration. It was rather like sorting through a large bowl of beads – looking for one in a specific shape in a specific color. Sometimes the shape would be right but the color wrong – she'd accidentally focus in on the heavy breathing of someone tramping back from the fields to meet at the town square, or on the crying of a child who most certainly was not Josefina, in town. And sometimes the color would be right but the shape would be wrong – it would be a small sound, from a small thing – but it was too high-pitched or too low-pitched or too…inhuman to be Josefina.

"Come on, bebé, say something," murmured Dolores. If Josefina would just talk, she'd be able to figure out right where she was.

When they'd made it nearly three quarters of the way around the village and Dolores still hadn't heard anything – she still hadn't found her; Lucía's strength began to falter.

When they'd completely finished listening around the perimeter of the village, Dolores turned anxiously to Lucía, apology in her eyes – "Lo siento, Señora Moreno – I hear so many heartbeats, so many breaths – so many feet walking – if she would just talk or call to me – I'd be able to hear her, but – right now – I can't hear her specifically."

She's not talking. But she's always talking! She's not calling for help. She's not able to call for help? Lucía stopped walking at that traitorous thought and began to blink rapidly. Alejandro. This was so much like that – too much like that. She couldn't do this again. She couldn't do this again. She couldn't –

Her lips moved for a moment before she forced the words out, her voice flat and mechanical. "Gracias, Dolores. You have done so much. It is not your fault. I will just – wait here, for news. Maybe – maybe Antonio's animals will find her soon."

She lowered herself onto a nearby bench, and once she was seated, she released the grip she'd had on Dolores' arm. She bent herself nearly in half, her face in her hands, and rocked, back and forth, back and forth.

Dolores was fairly certain she could hear her heart breaking.

When Lucía still hadn't composed herself a full five minutes later, but had actually started muttering – 'I can't do this again, I can't do this again, please – please – Dios, por favor – Dios te salve, María - Padre nuestro, que está en el cielo -" Dolores began trembling herself, and tears of compassion pricked her eyes.

When Lucía began gasping, unable to even speak - Dolores recognized a panic attack when she saw one. She'd seen her mother's and listened to her tío's for years. While she had learned to help her mother calm herself, in the time before the first Miracle was lost – this particular situation was outside of her comfort zone. She knew Lucía needed more help than she herself could give.

She crouched down before Lucía. "Señora Moreno," she said softly. "I know you're probably having a hard time hearing me right now, but I'm going to get help. I'll be back. I'm not just leaving you alone, okay? I'll come back."

She paused just for a moment and listened, but both Lucía's padre and her sister were farther away at the moment than those at Casita. Dolores turned on her heel and ran.

Alma and Mirabel were almost to Casita when Dolores flew past them. They called out to her, hoping for an update - and she'd obviously heard them, but did not stop. Alma and Mirabel looked at each other in concern and began walking as fast as Alma possibly could. They'd called everyone to the town square and explained the situation. The village had turned itself inside out looking for Josefina, and they'd completely ruled out the hope that she'd still been in town. Then, they had helped break the town into groups to begin searching the jungle. They'd left Antonio at the Town Square with Sofia and a menagerie of animal friends and promised to be back were now on their way back to Casita to update Julieta and Pepa – and to wake Bruno, if he was not already awake.

Alma had hoped that they would all find Josefina quickly. It was now apparent that the situation had moved from 'urgent' to 'emergency'. It was already late afternoon, and even in a magical place like the Encanto, the jungle at night was no place for a child. She hoped Bruno's rest had helped him. He would have a difficult evening ahead of him if they still couldn't find Josefina.

When they entered Casita, Julieta was walking beside Pepa toward the front door, and Dolores was nowhere to be found.

"Por favor, Pepa - just in case - " Julieta said, attempting to hand Pepa a small bag, presumably with her food inside. "Take this."

Pepa took the bag but shook her head. "Juli, your food won't heal this. I should know."

"Won't heal what?" Alma asked, her heart clenching in fear. "Where is Lucía? Is Josefina - "

"No. Not Josefina. And Julieta's food does not cure panic attacks, grief, anxiety, depression, heartbreak," Pepa listed grimly. "Dolores left Lucía on a bench in town. I'm going to - "

"Mamá!" A voice cried from the stairs, trembling with anger and fear, and all four of them – Alma, Mirabel, Julieta, and Pepa – froze in shock. Bruno half-ran down the remainder of the stairs and stopped before his mother, his hair wild, still adjusting his ruana from where it had tangled around him in his sleep. "You told – you told Lucía I wouldn't help her?"

They all blinked, and Dolores squeaked "No!" from the balcony, frozen at her tío's outburst. She'd gone to wake him at the behest of her Mamá and tía, but apparently, in her rush to convey the most important events of the past few hours, Bruno had misunderstood exactly what had happened.

"No," Alma said calmly, eyes darting from a pained Dolores to her son. His chest was heaving and there was a wounded, angry look on his face. "I told her you'd had a hard vision and we would send you to her as soon as you awoke. We are all helping her. I told her you would help, too, when you had recovered."

"Mamá, Josefina is missing."

"And we - "

"Dolores couldn't hear her!"

Alma looked up to Dolores, still on the balcony, who nodded in confirmation, her eyes full of sorrow.

"I - "

"When it comes to my powers – my gift – how I use it and how I recover from it - I decide what constitutes an emergency! And if Lucía needs me, if Josefina is missing – it is an emergency!"

Alma stared at her son, at his fierce expression, and a strange mix of warm pride and cold conviction swirled in her heart. He looked so much like his padre in that moment.

"You're right. I'm sorry," she whispered.

He swallowed, suddenly realizing who he was speaking to - and how he was speaking to her. "It's - ah -" then turned with a jerk back to Dolores. At her expression, his tone softened immediately. "Lo siento, Dolores," he said softly. "Where is she?"

"The bench near Señora Díaz' music shop. Not the side with the murales on it. The other side."

He paused, for just a moment. A bench. Devastated on a bench. His vision. His heart sank. He had to move quickly. "Gracias, Lola."

And then he was gone.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't afraid.

He was afraid he'd be too late, and that the wrong vision would come true.

He was afraid of disappointing Lucía.

And he was afraid for Josefina.

But how - how did some kids working on a school project, and the village updating the bridge - how did it all connect to Lucía on the bench?

And why hadn't he seen this?

Lucía was aware there were people moving around her, but she wasn't really aware of whom. A few people stopped to ask if she was all right, but she'd been so lost in her fear and worry that she wasn't able to reply properly.

The cold reality that her daughter was missing and that events were playing out in much the same way they had when Alejandro was missing had settled on her heart and made her numb to the world around her. Everything hurt. Her arms and legs and fingers wouldn't work right; she didn't think she could stand even if she wanted to. She was so cold but she'd also broken out into a sweat, and her sinuses and eyes burned from the tears that had not yet fallen and her chest felt tight, as though the heavy weight of her failure as a mother was slowly suffocating her.

She slowly sat back against the bench, arms at her sides, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing. "I can't do this," she whimpered. "I can't do this again."

"Lucía!"

She blinked.

"Lucía!"

Someone slid onto the bench beside her, taking her hand in theirs – gently - so very gently –

She blinked again, and their was a buzzing in her ears, but she could hear again, and there was someone saying her name –

Bruno.

"Bruno," she breathed, and a pulse caused the withered hope in her heart to come to life again. It was weak – but it was still there. "Bruno." She turned toward him and leaned forward, grasping his ruana, near his shoulder, with her other shaky hand. Her brain leapt forward, over a hurdle of fear, with dizzying speed. There was something – he could do. Right? No. Yes. He could help. He would help her. But she'd promised not to ask – she couldn't ask for a vision. She'd promised. She wasn't making sense. She didn't want a vision. She wanted her daughter. She couldn't think straight. "Josefina is missing."

"I know. I'm sorry – I'm so sorry, Lucía. I'm here, I'll help – I'll have a vision, I'll look for her, I'll help however you need me to - but – but - you need to calm down, first. You're shaking."

A vision. Lucía choked. She couldn't break her promise to him. But this was her daughter. Her heart, walking around outside of her body. If there was any way, any way to help her, she would take it. She –

"Lucía, I'm here to help you calm down," a new voice said firmly and gently.

Lucía blinked up at Pepa, who was standing there with a snow cloud flurrying around her. She shivered as snow landed on her head and shoulders and her teeth began to chatter. Pepa shook her head and crouched before her. "Now, we're going to do this together, okay? You're feeling disconnected, sí? Like you're dying, slowly, and can somehow feel everything and nothing?"

"Pepa, how is this helping?" Bruno said, trying and failing to keep the judgment out of his voice.

"I've been doing this since I was a kid, hermanito, trust me," Pepa said icily, before turning her attention back to Lucía and speaking with warmth and gentleness.

"Now, querida, I know it hurts right now, and I know you're scared, but we're going to come back to reality, together. First, I want you to tell me five things you see. Okay? Five things."

Lucía blinked and forced her head to nod. "I see…you."

"More specific." Pepa said firmly. "What do you see on me? What are you looking at?"

"You have a red curl there." Lucía blinked at it. She wanted to touch it, but her hand wouldn't move the way she wanted it to. Her eyes slid to the side, to Bruno. "Bruno has a black curl - there." Her lips twitched, as though they remembered smiling about his curls before, even if her brain couldn't remember why at the moment.

"Excelente, querida. Three more to go."

Pepa walked Lucía through the five things she saw, before moving onto four things she could touch, three things she could hear, two things she could smell, and one thing she could taste. (Pepa offered her one of Julieta's honey-lemon drops, and Lucía sighed as it hit her tongue.) When she nodded firmly when Pepa asked if she would be all right now – ready to go back to searching for her daughter – Pepa's snow cloud disappeared in a soft ray of sunshine. (5)

"I'm so proud of you, Lucía. Bruno will take it from here." She stood and stepped away, into the arms of Félix, whom Dolores had found and sent to support his wife with her difficult, emotional task - and Lucía realized she still had a death grip on both Bruno's hand and his ruana. She released his ruana, but he kept a gentle grip on her hand. He searched her face anxiously, but he also seemed almost relieved.

"What do you need me to do?" He asked quietly.

She stared at him for a moment, and he prompted her again.

"Do you - do you want me to have a vision? Or should I - just help search - ?" He seemed uncertain.

She licked her lips. "I promised," she croaked out. "I promised I wouldn't ask - "

"But – see - you're not asking," he said gently. "Lucía, I'm offering. You might not like what you see – I might not like what I see. But if not knowing is worse than knowing - "

Lucía looked away, staring at the ground for a moment.

She would do anything for Josefina.

She lifted her gaze and met his. "Okay. For Josefina."

A/N:

1)Dr. Sidney Farber and his team of laboratory scientists were among the first to use chemotherapy and were the first to achieve successful remission of acute lymphoblastic leukemia in children in 1947. (according to www dot dana farber boston childrens dot org) So it is possible (if not super probable) for Marisol to have treatment and live in the early 1950s.

2) Lo siento muchísimo – I'm so sorry

3) Dios te salve, María – God save you, Mary/Hail Mary – the beginning of the Catholic prayer 'Hail Mary'. Padre nuestro, que está en el cielo - Our Father who is in Heaven

4)una pelota – an idiot

5) Pepa used the 54321 method for coping with anxiety. It grounds you and brings you back to the present. Probably wasn't labeled as such in that time and place but I think attempting to focus on the here and now and the concrete stuff in front of you has been a coping mechanism for a long time.

I hope Bruno did not seem too OOC in this chapter with his mother. I was attempting to channel the scene where he confronts his Mamá over her treatment of Mirabel at the river.

P.S. - I know I've recommended it before, but if you haven't read "A Third Chance" by Starfang's Secrets - these last few chapters were absolutely beautiful and all my emotions from reading them may have come out as screeching pterodactyl noises from the sheer amount of feels.

Also, I came across another beautiful story called "The Future is a Funny Thing" by These Are Mine and it's a beautiful look at the lovely (completely platonic and pure) tio-sobrina relationship between Bruno and Mirabel and the parallels in their struggles after he disappears. So I highly recommend that one too.

Thanks for your reviews, comments, and support! You make my day!