9. Chapter 9

A/N: Edited 6/24/22 for spelling and grammar and final minor timeline corrections.

Chapter 9

The doorknob was well-crafted. Intricate decorative details were carved around the outer edge, and a graceful M was etched into the center. Anyone else might have said it was an M for Madrigal, but the family knew very well it was mostly an M for Mirabel. It was perfectly polished and reflected the light almost as well as a mirror of glass.

It was perfect.

Bruno's heart swelled with affection and pride and a sense of justice for his sobrina as she gasped and stared in wonder at them all, tears filling her eyes, scarcely believing that this – this was for her.

And this door would not disappear, not a chance. It was rock solid and built of real wood and metal and stone, on a foundation of love, forgiveness, and trust as deep as the mountains themselves – and it was all because of Mirabel. Julieta wrapped an arm around Bruno and leaned her head on his shoulder as they watched their mother press her forehead to Mirabel's, imparting some gentle words of gratitude and acceptance and giving her blessing before stepping aside. Mirabel turned around to look at them all one last time, a tearful smile on her face, and then turned back to the door to carefully put the doorknob in place.

Válgame Dios. (1)

He could not believe this was happening.

His mouth dropped open and he felt Julieta's arm drop from his shoulders as she gasped. He took a small step back, craning his neck as he took in the orbs of light that spread out from the doorknob like dandelion seeds in the wind. They glowed and swirled, turning to sheets of dancing golden light that enveloped the casita. When they'd completely covered it, they burst outward into shining magical dust with a residual wind that caressed his curls and tugged on his ruana, moving past him and his family into the surrounding town and jungle.

As the last of the flickering spheres floated into the sky and faded away, the blinding glare of the door faded into a familiar golden glow. And instead of one person on the door, the entire family was magically etched into its surface.

There was Mirabel, front and center, and her Abuela beside her, just a step behind. Antonio, Camilo, and Dolores were to the left, with Pepa – and Félix! – above them. Bruno was on the door, centered between Pepa and Julieta, and Agustín stood beside his wife! Isabela and Luisa stood to the right, just below Agustín and above their Abuela.

He'd scarcely had time to take in the fact that Félix and Agustín had been added to the doors – they'd never had their own before, hadn't even been on the murales in town - before moving tiles above the doorframe caught his eye. The shutters above the door opened and waved, and Mirabel responded with a wave of her own and quiet, teary, "Hola, Casita."

And then, as if the house itself were dancing with joy at being alive again, it began to move its tiles and shutters to a beat, and shifted the floor tiles to move Mirabel into the house, throwing the doors open wide. As soon as Mirabel joyfully shouted for everyone to come in, Casita immediately began to pull them all in – the family first, followed by the villagers that had shown up as the magic returned - shifting and moving tiles and bricks to keep everyone upright – if barely. Shrieks of delight and joyful laughter and awe-filled gasps filled the air.

It didn't fully hit him until he walked from the foyer, where he'd been deposited, into the courtyard of the rebuilt, fully functioning Casita – the magic had returned. His heart hammered in his chest, overwhelmed with the sheer amount of emotion coursing through him.

Joy and pride for Mirabel. A bittersweet sense of coming home, freely walking through the front doors for the first time in a decade. Gentle love for Antonio and his obvious happiness at the return of his gift. His sobrino raced past him on a jaguar, toucans flitting back and forth around him.

Disbelief.

A lurking fear of what all this might mean for himself.

A sense of dread that all of the progress he'd made these past two weeks with the community would crumble like sand through his fingers as soon as they realized he could see the future again.

Satisfaction at seeing Isabela's powers return, and her hesitant pride in being able to create something new and different and vibrant.

Amusement, as he watched Mirabel notice Luisa attempting to test out her returned strength. She whispered to Antonio, who jumped off of his jaguar and onto a donkey's back and then whispered to the donkeys. In a fitting sense of irony, they carried her to a hammock, where she was deposited without ceremony and offered a drink. Surprised and delighted, she took it, and lifted it in salute to her Tía Pepa, who had begun hailing while dancing with Félix.

Hailing.

He swallowed as he watched her dance, one hand gripping his ruana, twising the cloth in his fist.

Not sunshine – not unbridled joy – but hail. There was a cloud. She felt more than joy at her gift being returned, and he'd guess that some of that was similar to what he felt – anxiety and dread and fear.

But she was dancing.

She was hailing and dancing and no one was reprimanding her for her weather. Not the villagers, watching in awe, some beginning to join in – and not Mamá.

He looked around, tense, waiting for someone to tell her to stop –

And then he realized that no one was going to.

She was free. Free to feel her feelings and manage them in her own personal way. Maybe that's why she was dancing. Maybe she realized things had changed, now, for the better - that things would be different. Maybe this magic – this magic, born of Mirabel's miracle, was gentler and kinder than the magic born of his father's sacrifice and death. He could feel it, hovering around and inside him, its presence familiar and yet different. He was tempted to reach out to it, to see if his gift had changed, to see if he was different now, as well – but he wouldn't, not yet, not with all these people around watching. He wouldn't risk losing his newfound reputation so quickly.

So – hesitantly, pushing that sense of uncertainty and foreboding to the side, clinging to the acceptance and joy he'd found and experienced the past few weeks – he watched his familia, and he smiled. His smile grew as he watched Pepa and Félix dance. Félix reveled in his wife's weather, his enjoyment of her and her gift obvious. His heart swelled with tender affection for his hermana, and for his mother, who wrapped an arm around Mirabel's shoulders.

Suddenly, Casita's tiles shifted again, and he was flailing through the air, pressed against Mirabel, the rest of the familia fumbling on Casita's tiles as well. They were thrown together, shifted, and he looked up to see Casita bumping their camera along the ground before them. Valentino rode the top of it like some sort of rat vaquero (2), and Bruno's nose wrinkled in amazement. He looked to Antonio, who called out to Valentino to take the photo. Bruno gripped Mirabel's arm, both to steady himself and as a sort of reassuring sign – look, look at what you've done, this is amazing and it's all thanks to you – and Valentino raised his little paw, and Bruno spoke the words spoken at every family photograph, words he hadn't spoken in ages – La Familia Madrigal.

A sense of relief and belonging washed over him – for about two seconds.

And then Casita, who apparently had developed a sense of humor, shifted the floor tiles and squished them all together. Camilo slammed into him, and he slammed into Mirabel, and Pepa flailed behind him. Everyone was grasping and shrieking and laughing and yelling and attempting to stay upright. Antonio's jaguar misinterpreted the family's reaction as something dangerous, and immediately nudged Antonio onto his back and bolted, just as Valentino took the photo.

Antonio laughed, calming and reassuring his animal friend, who circled back but remained a short distance away from the rest of the familia, with an expression that looked, to Bruno, an awful lot like distrust on its face. The rest of them staggered and attempted to pull themselves off each other, equal parts amused and disgruntled.

"Casita!" Mirabel scolded, laughing. "What was that for?!"

Casita raised two tiles in a shrug, and then continued to clack and move, bumping the camera back to its place in an alcove in the foyer. Valentino scampered down and ran to Bruno and scampered up his leg. Bruno held him in his hand and pet his soft fur affectionately, rubbing his thumb across the rat's neck and back. "You did good, buddy." Valentino squeaked in response, and the clambered up his sleeve and settled into his favorite pocket. He wondered where the rest of his little rat family was. He'd brought them over earlier today to get them settled into his new room. Perhaps they'd skittered out when the magic hit, and were now in hiding.

Casita then began to bump Agustín toward the piano.

He took the hint, and began to play. Other people from town, who had already planned on bringing their instruments to the celebration tonight, set up around him and began to play. Casita set the beat with its clacking and shifting and drumming, and soon, the courtyard turned into a dance floor.

Bruno surveyed the scene, his mouth twitching up at one corner. He noticed Dolores from the corner of his eye as she stood against the wall, a peculiar expression on her face.

Ah.

"Dolores. You holding up okay, kid?" He asked softly, from where he was.

She looked toward him and smiled.

He walked to her, and she looked around in wonder.

He waited.

"It's different," she whispered. She looked at her tío with disbelief clearly written on her face. "My gift is the same, but different."

"How so?"

She sighed and tilted her head. "I can hear everything – but I don't have to. Before, I heard everything, all the time. Every new sound, in town and the jungle and at home, I heard as though it were happening right in my ear, practically in my head. I learned to focus and tune out, but this – it's different. Before, I had to focus to tune things out – it was like – pulling my gift in, always trying to hold it back. Now – I have to focus if I want to use it. I can hear things far away – but it's a background noise. I have to – push it out, searching for what I want to hear. It's - " she paused, searching for the right words, and she looked into her tío's eyes, willing him to understand.

"It's – good." He supplied.

She smiled again. "Yeah. It's good." Her face lit up then, and she blushed. "Someone wants to dance with me." She darted a look at her tío, as if to ask if he would be all right there alone.

He smiled and inclined his head toward the dancing crowd. "Go dance, kid. I'm fine."

He watched her weave through the crowd to the other side of the dance floor, where Mariano Guzmán was speaking earnestly with Felix and Pepa. Dolores approached and he beamed at her, taking her hand and holding it in both of his. After a moment, she nodded and he pulled her onto the dance floor. As they danced, Mariano watched her with the same delighted look Félix always wore when he looked at Pepa, and Bruno smiled, blinking away the sudden moisture in his eyes.

"Hey, Tío," Mirabel said softly a short while later, appearing by his side and grinning up at him. Alma and Julieta stood beside her, forming a small group against the wall. "How are you doing?"

"I'm – I'm good. I'm great. I'm happy for everyone. Look at how happy she is." He nodded toward Dolores, and then laughed softly as he noticed Isabela and Luisa dancing together. Isabela was clearly delighted with Luisa's dance moves and kept trying to copy her hermanita. "Look at how happy they are."

"Are you happy, Brunito?" His mother asked softly, reaching out to grasp his hand and squeezing it affectionately.

He didn't quite meet her eyes. "I am."

"Is your gift back?" Julieta asked softly.

He nodded. "I haven't – I haven't tried it yet, obviously. I hadn't done a vision in ten years until Mirabel asked me to see hers again. I'm not – uh – I'm not in a hurry to have any more."

"You don't have to," his mother reassured him quickly. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Bruno."

He hummed noncommittally in response. "Dolores' gift is different," he murmured, and the three women jerked in surprise.

"Not like – totally different," he explained. "Just – better. Not as – hard."

They looked at each other. "That's…good." Mirabel said first.

"It is."

Alma hesitated, looking as though she wanted to say something, and then shook her head. "It's – we can discuss the gifts later, how things will change. How things have changed." She released Bruno's hand and smiled at Mirabel. "For now, we are here to celebrate. So let's celebrate, mmm?"

Mirabel nodded, and in a matter of moments Isabela and Luisa pulled her onto the dance floor with them, the three hermanas moving and twisting and swaying and laughing.

Bruno settled back against the wall, content to watch and enjoy his familia.

He got a good twenty minutes to himself, leaning against the wall in the shadows. He watched his familia dance. Camilo made his way through the crowd, shifting into a woman and taking the hand of one of the taller men from town and twirling beneath it, before shifting into another man to catch and dip a young woman who'd nearly tripped, returning her to her partner, and then shifting into a child and demonstrating some fast footwork with a small group of them from town. He then shifted back into himself, bowing as though on stage, and the children laughed and cheered.

He obviously got his smooth moves from his padre.

He watched as the town continued to stream in. He recognized Señor Flores with his daughter Cecilia and his pregnant wife, whom Casita graciously allowed to walk in on her own two feet. He had a feeling the ground moving beneath her would either cause her to vomit or fall.

He saw a few other people he'd worked with during the reconstruction, and then Lucía and her family came in, riding comically on Casita's tiles. Señor Hernandez, looking quite dapper with his silver hair combed back and wearing a blue guayabera with brown slacks and a brown sombrero vueltiao, appeared surprised and a little uncertain at the house's enthusiasm. Casita separated him from his daughter and granddaughter and deposited him in a small alcove where multiple sombreros were hanging. One of the wall tiles extended and waved impatiently until the older man tentatively hung his sombrero on it, and then watched as it raced to its place beside the others. Señor Martinez called to him from nearby, and José Hernandez waved to Lucía and Josefina before joining his friend in conversation.

Lucía had braided flowers into Josefina's hair for the celebration tonight, and the little girl was wearing her 'most fanciest dress' for the occasion. She'd demonstrated its fanciness with a twirl before the Madrigals had left that afternoon. That time felt so far away, now.

At the moment, Josefina was standing completely and entirely still in the small sea of people moving around her. Her mouth was open in a little 'o' of shock and delight, and her eyes grew wider and wider as she took in the moving Casita and Antonio's animal friends intermingling with the crowd. Another child ran up to her – it looked like one of her primas, a girl just a bit older than her with auburn hair in twin braids – and Josefina hugged her fiercely. The girl gestured animatedly with her hands, and pulled her over to another group, with a lot more kids.

A woman Bruno recognized as Sofia, Lucía's hermana, stood to the side of the group with a little boy on her hip. She called out and waved, and Lucía made her way across the courtyard to talk with her.

Lucía had braided her own hair, too, and wound it into an intricate design on the back of her head near the nape of her neck, adorning it with flowers as well. She wore a cream-colored ruffled blouse with an embroidered blue and green striped skirt, and she grinned in disbelief as she joined her hermana.

"Hey!"

Bruno looked down to see a kid staring at him, casually and expertly sipping coffee as though he were seventy-six instead of just six. He was one of the kids Bruno had seen in town while rebuilding the Casita, though he didn't remember his name.

"Hi." He responded.

The kid in question tilted his head back and looked up at him, obviously thinking hard about something. "Everyone got their gift back. You get yours?"

Bruno's eyebrows shot upward, and he gripped his ruana in his fist. "Uh…"

"How's that work? Are you gonna tell me my future?" The kid narrowed his eyes at him, skeptical. "You're not gonna curse anyone, right?"

Bruno's heart fell to his feet. "No. Of course not. I – uh – I never actually - "

"Juancho!" A young woman appeared out of the crowd, absolutely mortified. "Lo siento, Señor, I am so sorry. He speaks without thinking sometimes. Juancho, leave the man alone. We are going to have a talk about this…" The kid looked over his shoulder as his mother herded him away, confusion and fading suspicion and a little bit of embarrassment on his face.

Bruno swallowed. Was she sorry that Juancho asked him something rude, or was she sorry because she was worried he'd see something bad about the kid's future? Did it really matter? It seemed to cement his worst fear. Without his gift, he was a nice addition to the community. With his gift back, he was -

"Don Bruno!" Josefina skidded to stop in front of him. "Don Bruno!" She beamed up at him. "I've been looking for you!"

He managed a feeble smile, and wondered how much longer she would smile at him like that, carefree and unafraid. "Hey."

"Do you like my hair?" She twirled before him, showing off the braids with small white and orange flowers in them.

He nodded, and his throat felt thick. "Looks beautiful, Josefina."

She stood on her tiptoes and whispered loudly - "Do you think Lareina would be jealous?"

He snorted. "She's always jealous."

Josefina looked around curiously. "Is she here?"

Bruno shook his head. "Too loud, too many people. The rats are either all in my room still, or they're hiding."

As if one cue, Valentino scrambled out of his favorite pocket and poked his head out from beneath his ruana. Josefina's face lit up with delight.

"Valentino!" She crooned. "There you are! Mi prima Gabriela told me a rat took a photograph earlier. Was it you? You are such a smart little rat, taking that picture. Such a smart little cutie!"

Bruno lifted an eyebrow, surprised. He hadn't told her which rat it was, but she recognized him on her own. Not many people could do that. He held out his arm and Valentino scampered down to sit in his hand, and Josefina reached out her fingers, stroking his fur gently. "I love you, Valentino. I miss you. But I'll come visit you, te prometo. (3)" She whispered to him. "Say hello to Pablo for me too, okay?" Valentino squeaked in response and nuzzled her fingers affectionately.

Bruno's lips twitched as Valentino scampered back up his arm and into the safety of his pocket as Lucía approached.

"Hola, Bruno." Her formal skirt was a bit more voluminous than the normal skirts she wore, and it swished when she walked. She turned and leaned against the wall next to him. The party was loud, but the soft sound beside him reminded him of the sand that used to fall in his room.

Well. The sand that was probably currently falling in his room, now that the miracle had returned.

He nodded toward her and willed his shoulders to relax. He felt the comforting weight of Valentino in his pocket and blinked as Josefina casually squeezed between him and Lucía and slid one hand into his and the other into her mother's. He reflexively squeezed it, both to make sure that was what she intended to do and to thank her. Her hand stayed in his and she smiled up at him.

"So," Josefina said. "Do you dance?"

Bruno coughed. That was not what he expected to come out of her mouth. "Uh - "

She looked up at him with a frown when he hesitated to answer. "Do you not know how?" She whispered loudly, obviously concerned and possibly a bit horrified.

"Josefina," her mother chided gently.

He chuckled. "No, no – I know how. Pepa made sure of that."

"Oh?"

He nodded to the dance floor, where she and Félix continued to dance, her hail from earlier dissipating into soft snowflakes that melted as soon as they hit the warm air outside of her cloud. "When we were teenagers, she made me practice, a lot. So she could dance with Félix."

Josefina grinned. "So you do know how to dance!"

"Yeah. But – I – don't - " He didn't want to let her down, but he also – he didn't want to go out there, in the middle of his home, and risk another run in with Juancho or his mother or anyone else who might ruin this evening for him or anyone else in his family.

"Josefina," Lucía interrupted gently. "I don't think Don Bruno wants to dance right now."

Josefina rolled her eyes, and then, at the stern expression on her mother's face, apologized. "Sorry. But I didn't ask him to dance. I just asked if he knew how."

Lucía raised an eyebrow at her daughter. "But you were going to ask him, weren't you?"

Josefina sighed. "Yes." She mumbled.

"So…"

"I know, I know. If you want something, don't be sneaky about it. Just ask."

"And…"

"Accept their answer, even if you don't like it."

Josefina pursed her lips and rocked on her feet, and before long another little girl ran up to her. "Josefina!"

"Alejandra!"

"Wanna dance?"

"Yes! Mamá…?" Josefina looked up at her mother with pleading eyes.

Lucía laughed. "Go on, mi querida. Dance as much as you like. Just be mindful of the people around you."

"I know, Mamá! Thank you!" Josefina ran off, leaving Lucía beside Bruno.

"Thank you for being so patient with her, especially with your rats. She is particularly fond of them."

Bruno smiled. "Yeah, she's good with them."

"Now, I know you'll all need time to settle in, but…perhaps, sometime next week, we could come visit you? Not for long," she rushed on, sounding apologetic. "And if it's too soon, it's okay. I know she'd love to see you and your pets, but if you don't want us to, I understand."

Bruno stared at her, a strange expression flitting across his face. "You still…want to come...visit me?"

Lucía's brow furrowed. "Yes. Why wouldn't we want to?"

He rubbed his hands on his ruana, smoothing it out before him, his head down. "Well…you know." Nervous laughter bubbled out of him.

Lucía blinked in confusion. "No, I don't."

"My 'gift'." He mumbled. "It…returned with the rest of the magic. Probably."

"Probably?" She sounded even more confused.

"I mean, I – I haven't actually tried to have a vision, yet. I don't particularly want to. But I can…sort of…feel it, there." He waved his hand in front of him.

"Oh."

He looked up at her, but the only emotion on her face was confusion.

"It's hard to explain." And he didn't really want to go into it, right then. He suddenly felt extraordinarily tired.

"That's okay. You don't have to explain."

They were silent for a moment, watching the joyful exchanges of the people spread throughout the Casita, and moved out of the way of one of the older village women moving through to the kitchen with a large pot of something that smelled like sopa de plátano.

When they were relatively alone again, Lucía asked carefully, "You think I wouldn't want to visit because your gift returned? I don't remember it being dangerous."

He chuckled darkly. "Having a vision isn't, no. But my gift - the visions themselves - it's – uh – I don't have the best track record. With it. My 'gift.'"

"You say gift as though it were a curse."

"Isn't it?" He blinked. He hadn't quite meant to say that out loud.

Lucía turned her head to the side to look at him and spoke softly, mindful of the people around them. "I - I can't answer that for you. I've never had a gift like that. But if you really say it's more of a curse, I will believe you."

"So if you believe me, why would you still want to be friends with me? Why would you still let your daughter around me?" He tried and failed to keep the bitter note from his voice.

"I didn't say I thought it was a curse. I thought…I think you feel like it is one, and I believe it feels like one. I don't think you're actually cursed - or that you curse people. I know…I know people have been…" She let out a small huff. "Why am I trying to sugar coat it? There is no nice way to say it. People have treated you terribly, Bruno. I don't blame you for being…skeptical."

He shrugged. "And I don't blame them. I wouldn't be friends with someone I thought regularly cursed people. You weren't friends with me before. Why would you want to be, now?" He didn't say it accusingly, just as a matter of fact.

Lucía nodded slowly. "I didn't know you, before. You were, what, nine when I was born? By the time I was old enough to know who you were, and what you could do - "

"-I was already hiding in my tower, attempting to keep a low profile."

She grinned to herself. "Not quite yet."

"Huh." He looked at her skeptically.

"You don't remember? You had a stint in your teens where you tried to make fortune-telling more of a performance art. I believe that's when you began wearing your ruana all the time?"

Bruno groaned. He remembered. Fifteen years old. As a kid, his prophecies had been mostly good, or at least vague and benign enough that no one had blamed him for bad things happening. He was so eager to please, and most people, when faced with a less than ideal future outcome, would shrug and pat him on the head or mutter a polite 'thanks, anyway'. But as he'd aged and practiced honing his gift, he'd seen more and more at a time, and he'd begun to understand the patterns of his visions. His first truly bad vision had been of one of his favorite teachers, Señor Ruiz. He was kind, never treated Bruno differently than the other kids. He wanted to see how his proposal to Simone Zuniga would turn out. Bruno looked for him, saw that she would accept, that they would marry, and then - that she would leave. Bruno remembered clearly the stubborn denial of his favorite teacher, and how he had pleaded with Señor Ruiz to remember that his visions had always, always come true. Bruno saw how heartbroken his teacher would be and advised him not to propose to her. But he didn't listen. Señor Ruiz proposed and married and then, three years into their marriage, she left. Not just Señor Ruiz, but the Encanto entirely. She asked her husband to go with her – to travel and explore and experience more of the world she read about in books – but he refused. So she left, and she took his heart with her.

Señor Ruiz didn't purposefully treat him differently after that. But he couldn't stand to be around him for long, either. He didn't blame Bruno, exactly, but Bruno's presence reminded him so strongly of what he'd lost. Bruno lost one of his favorite teachers because of that. And after that – after his bad prophecy came true – things had been different.

People still came to him for visions, but they were fearful, hesitant, and scornful. They were almost haughty when the vision went the way they'd expected, and resentful when it did not. He felt more and more pressure to distance his fortune-telling gift from himself as a person – to escape the fallout - and so he'd used his acting skills to create a sort of – persona. A different Bruno. It was fun, at first, and he also thought that maybe – if he acted like some sort of traveling circus fortune teller, they wouldn't push him to give specific details, to look so far. It was always confusing the farther out he looked, the images became more disjointed and it was hard to tell where in the timeline they fit in.

It backfired.

People started believing he enjoyed giving bad fortunes, that he reveled in dramatizing their bad luck. So he left the bravado behind but kept the ruana. It was comforting to be able to pull the hood up and ignore the unkind world around him.

He shivered, bringing himself back to the present. "I didn't scar you for life with my dramatic prophet act?"

"Well, I may have been a little scared a few times, but honestly, I was more afraid of the people shouting later on than the skinny older boy hiding in his hood." Lucía teased, but her smile faltered when he grimaced. "Sorry."

She drew in a breath and let it out very slowly. "My point is, I didn't know you well enough to choose to be your friend or not all those years ago. But from what I've seen, from what I know of you now," she continued, "I'd be happy to call you a friend."

He stared at the ground, attempting to communicate very clearly this burden of suffocating responsibility and loneliness that was slowly sinking back onto his shoulders. "People will talk. Maybe my 'curse' won't rub off on you, but my reputation will. You don't know what it's like." He looked up at her to gauge her reaction. "Being friends with Bruno Madrigal wouldn't have hurt you, but being friends with a seer of the future might." He looked pointedly at Josefina, still dancing with her friends and primos, and his message was clear.

He didn't want that for her. He didn't want them to get hurt because of him.

Lucía's mouth pulled down at the corners, and her eyes looked sad. She sighed and watched Josefina notice her Abuelo and pull him onto the dance floor, imploring him again and again to help her twirl. She smiled absentmindedly at the sight, and then looked to Bruno again. She had to pause before replying, because a group of people decided at that moment to take a break from dancing and press in toward them. One of the men went to get them all drinks, and offered to get one for Bruno and Lucía as well. They politely declined, and waited until the group had rested and rejoined the dance floor before continuing.

Lucía crossed her arms, leaned back against the wall, and began to speak in a quiet voice. "The very fact that you are willing to cut ties with us to protect Josefina proves my point. You're a good man and a worthy friend. I wouldn't have much integrity if I claimed to be your friend and then left at the first sign of difficulty."

He rubbed his arm nervously. "You're not obligated to stick with your offer to be – to be friends. You made it before my…gift came back." When she just stared at him, he raised his eyebrows. "I'm giving you an out."

She frowned at him. "I don't want an out, Bruno. This may come as a surprise to you, but I actually like you. I didn't want to be your friend out of pity or obligation. I may have said it casually last night, but I meant it. I want to be friends with you."

"You say that now, but that will change."

Now she looked offended.

It irritated him. "Look," he said firmly, and turned abruptly to the crowd. "Señora Pezmuerto." He jerked his head toward her in the crowd. "She was always nice to me, gave me extra portions at her parent's food stall. I had a vision that her goldfish would die. I told her, thinking maybe she could prevent it, or prepare for it, or – I don't know what I was thinking. But I told her and she decided we weren't friends anymore, and I started sending Pepa or Julieta to get any food we wanted from them." He pursed his lips toward an older gentleman dancing slowly with a woman he didn't recognize. "Señor Ruiz. He was a teacher when I was a teenager. One of my favorites. He wanted to see how his proposal to Simone Zuniga would turn out. I looked for him, I saw that she would accept, and that they would marry, and then she would leave. I told him how it would go, I saw how sad he would be, I begged him not to propose to her. But he proposed and married and then she left."

"She came back."

Bruno's entire defense sputtered out like a candle in the wind. "What?!"

Lucía nodded, brow raised, to Señor Ruiz. "Simone came back, oh – about – four years ago now? She brought back so many books, so much information, so many souvenirs and schematics and ideas. She said she was ready to retire here. Papá is still recording all the things she's brought back – newspapers, books, basic blueprints of inventions – it's mind boggling how much has happened in the outside world in the past fifty years since the Encanto was formed…how much good, and how much bad..." her voice trailed off and she shook her head.

"Anyway, that's her." She inclined her head toward Señor Ruiz again, and he and his dancing partner turned, and Bruno blinked. There she was, that woman with silky hair and startling blue eyes that had captured his favorite teacher's heart all those years ago. She was older, her hair was styled differently – it was much shorter, now, and there was more white in it than black – and she moved slowly, as though certain joints pained her – but there she was. He hadn't recognized her at first, but he could see now it was the truth.

His mouth open and closed like a fish. "What – she – he - "

"She apologized," Lucía said softly. "She apologized for marrying him when she knew she wanted to leave and he wanted to stay and serve the children in the Encanto. She apologized for hurting him, trying to change him. He apologized for hurting her, trying to hold her back. They've made amends. They're…friends, if not more."

He turned his gaping stare to Lucía, and she gave him a lopsided smile. "At least, that's the chisme," she mumbled nervously. (4)

Bruno shrugged. "Sometimes the chisme is true."

"And sometimes it's not," she pointed out. "You didn't curse him. She would have left no matter what you saw or didn't see. Your vision was accurate. It just wasn't the complete story."

"And that's the problem." Bruno said flatly, but then he paused - thinking of Dolores, thinking of Mirabel – and beginning to wonder. "It's never the complete story, but people think it is." He blinked. It never was the complete story, was it? Mariano was betrothed to someone else, but now, he and Dolores were currently dancing their way to a happily ever after. Both aspects of his vision of Mirabel came true. Her confrontation of his mother had brought about the collapse of the Casita, but the resulting change in their family had brought forth another miracle, and the magic and all the gifts that accompanied it. Señor Ruiz – the vision had come true, but – it hadn't ended there. It just – it didn't go the way anyone thought it would. The way anyone could have predicted. A little spark of hope flared to life inside of him.

Lucía stayed beside him, hands clasped before her, her lips pressed into a thin line, thinking. "I think I understand where you're coming from. For me, continuing to be your friend now that your gift has returned is a minor thing."

He began to argue, but she held her hand up and continued. "I acknowledge your point that some people will talk and judge because of my choice to be your friend. But that's nothing I haven't experienced already. My father is…eccentric. Quiet but passionate about his beliefs and intensely focused, and people either love him for it or avoid him at all costs," she explained. "People don't always understand or get along with him – and sometimes that avoidance extends to me, too. But I value his acceptance over their rejection. And - after - after - " her voice faltered. "After - my husband - "

She looked down and swallowed. "After Alejandro died, I was - I struggled. People - people talked about that. And -" she took a breath and plowed forward, apparently eager to leave that topic behind. "I've seen the way you went to rescue your sobrina, the way you take care of your rats and the way you took care of Itziar - "

"-but I lost her!" Bruno protested. He immediately flinched as several heads nearby turned in his direction, and gave them an awkward smile.

Lucía snorted and shrugged, keeping her voice low. "I've lost her. She wanders toward food. You felt badly about it, helped find her, and made sure to thank her for her help. Not just me, but the horse. You jumped right into helping rebuild your family's home, the one you – you – you 'left' to protect them! You've been patient and kind and gentle toward my daughter, your sobrinos, and the rest of the village children. My daughter looks up to you, and there are not a lot of men outside of her Abuelo and her Tío Lorenzo that she looks up to, that treat her with the same affection as they do their own children, their own familia. I see a man worthy of friendship and worthy of enduring a little chisme for. Or a lot of chisme," she corrected herself, accurately guessing he was going to protest that point as well.

She sighed. "But! I understand the risk for you is much greater."

He looked up in surprise.

"You've…not had many lasting relationships outside of your familia, have you?" She asked delicately. He looked away, though her tone was kind. "I think…you might feel that protecting yourself by cutting off ties with me and my familia before we have the chance to do so to you is the smart and safe thing to do. Accepting and trusting someone outside of your familia is a much bigger deal for you."

He didn't argue, and she continued. "So I will say this: I am giving you an out. I'd be honored to consider you a friend. But I understand if you do not want to be mine right now. So much has happened in the space of a few weeks. If you choose to associate with me, you will also get my pedantic father and my over-enthusiastic daughter. We will visit, we will invite you over, we will beg to hear what happens to Lareina and Lorenzo in Todos Somos Ratas Enamorados. We will not gossip about you to others. We will not blame you when the same bad things that happened for the past ten years you were gone continue to happen now that you are 'back' – people and animals get sick and die and things get lost and broken, that is life. We will not ask for a vision, but if you have one in Josefina's presence she will be curious. It is only natural – but I will make sure she understands not to pester you about it. You never have to share anything you see with any of us unless you want to. The choice is yours."

He stared at her, hesitant, but she held up one finger. "But – I ask that you make that choice, knowing that my daughter is well on her way to loving you as fiercely as she loves her abuelo and her tío. I am more than willing to explain to Josefina that gossiping busybodies in the village are wrong about you. But," she said softly, "I never want to explain that we were wrong about you, if you allow her – allow us – to grow close to you, and then you decide later that it's not what you want."

He swallowed, eyes wide. What did he want? She'd patiently, thoughtfully, ruthlessly demolished every argument he'd set up against tying himself to her – to a friend, to someone outside of his familia. He was hesitant to trust others, but she understood that. So far, she hadn't given him reason to doubt her. He was still healing, would still be healing for a long time. He could come up with a million other reasons to hole himself up in the house again, away from the world – but was that ever what he actually wanted, or was it just a way to survive? He didn't want to just survive, anymore. He wanted to live.

Maybe making a real friend - someone who made him feel comfortable, who he could talk with about stuff like this –

Wait. He'd just spent the past half hour or so discussing the scars of his isolation and the curse of his gift with someone other than Pepa and Julieta. And while he was exhausted, he also didn't feel like curling in on himself or escaping into the world of his telenovelas just to avoid feeling.

If this was what having a friend was like, he definitely wanted one.

Lucía gazed thoughtfully at him as he processed everything, and then turned as Josefina ran up to them once again. She launched herself at her Mamá, breathless and laughing. "Mamá Mamá Mamá! Dance, dance, dance! Pleeeeeaaaase come dance with me!"

Lucía laughed and agreed, and Josefina latched onto her hand, pulling and tugging her mother toward the dance floor. She looked over her shoulder, and smiled at him. "No rush," she said, just loud enough for him to hear her. "Josefina, just a minute, mi querida. You don't have to decide anything tonight - "

Casita loosened a wall tile behind him and smacked him lightly in the behind.

"Ah! Heh – uh - still friends?" He asked as he lurched forward, sticking out his hand suddenly.

A smile spread across her face. "Still friends." She agreed, shaking his hand firmly before being pulled away by an eager Josefina.

A/N: Hey, don't mind me sliding in a day late with an update that took some turns I didn't expect. Sorry for the delay. I also got new glasses with a new prescription that took a little getting used to...and on a related note, my apologies for any spelling and grammar mistakes as well.

(1) Válgame Dios – God save me/God help me

(2) vaquero – cowboy

(3) Te prometo – I promise you

(4) chisme - gossip

Thank you for reading and for your support. Thanks to the guest reviewer who left the review for arepas, I can't wait to try them, and I'm sure my girls will enjoy them too. God bless you and have a wonderful week!