17. Chapter 17

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

Chapter 17

Bruno was a bit preoccupied for the next week. He had assumed that the murales would be the cause of Lucía's distress, but it appeared that rather than causing it, it was just a precursor to it – a sort of time-marker, to indicate the timeframe when the rest of the vision would occur. He'd had experience with that before, but it had been so long - he'd panicked and forgotten about that possibility.

The fact that the vision he'd had of Lucía wasn't quite right – that it wasn't quite complete, and that there may be more to see - constantly occupied a small corner of his mind. However, it was often covered with the distraction of family, household responsibilities like taking care of his rats, working on the play with Lucía for the rapidly approaching festival, and – trying to decide how, exactly, to practice his gift – or if he even should. If he even could.

Mirabel held him to his word and at breakfast the morning after the council meeting, the two of them shared what they'd learned of his new vision room and the potential that his visions may have two outcomes, now.

The family was, of course, shocked, and had a lot of questions that Bruno could not answer because he did not know, himself.

"Will all your visions have two possibilities, now?"

No clue.

"Does that mean you change the future?"

Nope.

"Are your visions still definite things? If there are two outcomes, will one of them definitely come true? Or both?"

He had no idea, but he was fairly certain at least one of the outcomes would come to be. If not, what was the point of having visions?

"Does it hurt, Tío? Did it bother you to have a vision?"

God bless Antonio. That one he could answer.

Pepa and Julieta exchanged looks, and the tension in her lips and brows gave away his mother's guilt on the subject - but Bruno was focused on his youngest sobrino. "No, Antonio. It doesn't hurt. It – it felt good, to use my gift. Just like you feel good when you use yours. It's just – the vision itself, was confusing. It's hard when I don't understand the visions." He sighed, and added quietly. "And it's – it's hard when people blame me for them coming true."

There were several surprised expressions at that, but it was the truth. His gift – it had always been harder to bear than others. But just like Julieta and Pepa, and later, his sobrinos – when done well, using his gift felt good. He'd been proud of it as a child. He only began hating it when he felt like he was constantly disappointing his family, when people started hating his visions and blaming him for their outcomes. Distancing himself from his gift felt like denying a part of himself, rejecting an important aspect of his soul – and that hurt as much as being blamed for the future he could see but couldn't control.

So it surprised him when he didn't immediately shut down Mirabel's suggestion to practice it by trying to see how the first trip outside the Encanto would go.

Mirabel hesitantly suggested, if he wanted to practice seeing the future again – if he wanted to try experimenting with his gift – perhaps he could look into the trip Señora Ruiz was planning on taking next week, to San Cristobál? To make sure she would be safe. (The older woman was stubborn and would not wait for a group to form. Even if there were a volunteer to accompany her, she'd probably refuse them. She preferred to travel alone, and she didn't care much for the rules. Even if her husband did sit on the council and helped make the rules in the first place.)

At the look on his face at that suggestion, she and the rest of the family quickly reassured him that under no circumstances did he have to. He could choose to never have another vision for as long as he lived and he would still be loved, still be an important member of the family and community. But if he wanted to use his gift again – Señora Ruiz was an ideal first candidate. She was a practical, well-traveled woman who had made her own path in the world and would not blame Bruno for anything less than ideal she might see. She had never blamed him before. Even all those years ago, before she'd left her husband and the Encanto to explore the outside world, she'd made it very clear it was her own decision and had nothing to do with Bruno Madrigal's fortune telling. Too bad the rest of the village didn't get the memo.

So Bruno contemplated quietly, for the remainder of the meal - and then he announced that he would think about it.

Bruno sat on a stool in the print shop and read the finished script out loud, line by line, as Lucía and her Papá set rows of type onto the lower wooden platen of the printing press. Father and daughter had done this so many times, together, that their fingers flew over the tiny letters and spaces in a way that was definitely admirable and almost like dancing – if that dance was done entirely with the arms, hands, and fingers.

They'd finished the final hand-written draft of the play for the festival and were printing several copies. Bruno and Lucía would perform the majority of the play as the voices of Ramón and Imelda, and they would each be doing the voices of some of the other minor characters, but Papá Hernandez, Mariano Guzmán, Camilo, and Luisa had volunteered to round out the cast with their own voices. Papá was not particularly skilled at acting, but he played his small part well and was eager to support his daughter. Mariano's deep, loud voice was an excellent fit for both Ramón's father and one of the sailors. It was no surprise that Camilo was good with theater production. He was in charge of several secondary characters and played them all with aplomb. But it had pleasantly surprised and delighted both Bruno and Lucía to see Luisa take on the part of Viviana, Imelda's best friend and first mate. Luisa shyly claimed that she wouldn't be comfortable in front of others on a stage, but sitting with Bruno and Lucía behind a curtain and reading out a story she'd fallen in love with - that was something she could do.

As they finished printing the last page of the script, Bruno helped hang up the pages on lines to dry. He'd gotten fairly good at knowing where to touch the pages to prevent the ink from smudging and how to hang them, and Lucía's father nodded in appreciation as he surveyed their work.

"Well done, niños," he said affectionately, as he clapped Bruno on the shoulder and pulled Lucía in for a side-hug. He sighed. "And now, I will take a little siesta before Josefina comes home from school, eh?" He gave them each another gentle squeeze and left the shop, leaving Lucía and Bruno to clean the press and sort out the type letters. They worked side by side in comfortable silence. When they finished, Lucía offered Bruno some coffee, and he accepted gratefully.

He sat back in her airy, tidy little kitchen, tired and content.

And then he remembered that in two days' time, Señora Ruiz was leaving for San Cristobál, and he frowned. Should he offer to have a vision for her? Part of him wanted desperately to know if his visions had changed – if he could provide people with two options, with two outcomes. Would that change everything? It felt like it might. But then again – were his visions even still accurate? He'd assumed that he'd been mistaken, before - that his vision of Lucía simply hadn't happened yet, that the murales being gone was just the first step in whatever series of events would lead to her being devastated on that bench. (Which she would not be. Because he was paying attention, and he would be there for her, when she needed him. Again.) But what if he was wrong? What if there was something wrong with his visions, now? Wrong with him? He'd never know if he didn't try to have a vision, but he was afraid to try.

"Bruno?" Lucía asked gently.

"Hmm?" He looked up, and her eyes darted to the mug in his hand. He realized he was gripping it so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, and he laughed nervously and relaxed. "Lo siento, sorry, its – ah - " he sighed.

"Are you nervous about the festival?" She asked.

"What? No, no. It's - " He paused, thinking. He hadn't exactly decided to tell Lucía about it, but now that he thought about it, he wanted to. She'd been a good listener, before, and he knew she wouldn't give him those sad, guilty looks Mamá and Pepa and Julieta got when he talked too much about how he felt about his gift. "I – I'm considering having a vision. For Señora Ruiz. She's – ah – she's going to San Cristobál in two days, and – Mirabel suggested, if I wanted to – uh – test out my gift – I could do it with her."

"Oh?" She put her cup down, completely focused on him. "What do you want to do?" She seemed to think for a moment, and then added – "No one is making you, right?"

"No! No, I – I – I'm just considering it."

She relaxed and nodded, and listened to him tell her about it – about his concerns that his vision of her was – incomplete. He glossed over the vision he'd had of her – that there were two outcomes, and in one she was sad, and in one he helped her, and she was – less sad. He told her about his family's reaction to his new vision room; to his new vision having two outcomes. About his concerns, his worries, his doubts – and about, despite it all, how curious he was to use his gift again. If only he could use it without constantly feeling all the trauma associated with it, without constantly fearing that he'd ruin someone's life – and in doing so, ruin his own.

When he was done, she was looking at him again, with that look that made him feel both incredibly seen and known but also completely vulnerable, and he swallowed.

"Bruno - "

"Mmm?"

"I admire you."

He promptly turned the color of a tomato and his heart gave a little leap that he silently scolded himself for, but she was tracing the edge of her coffee cup, collecting her thoughts, and she wasn't looking at him at the moment.

"I'm so sorry people have used your gift as an excuse to hurt you. You didn't deserve that, you know?" She looked up again and gave him a half-smile. "Here you are, one of the kindest, most humble men I've ever met, with a power that is - its – it's just - "

"-Unnerving? Intimidating? Terrifying? Unwelcome?" He recited, attempting a joke and falling flat.

She frowned. "No, Bruno. It's – it's a power that is hard to understand. And I don't want to downplay your struggle. I can only imagine how frustrating it can be to see part of the future, and not always see exactly what leads to it, or what it leads to. That is hard. And some people – they fear and reject anything that they cannot fully understand. I can see how experiencing those reactions would make you feel as though your gift were a curse." She paused. "Do you still feel that way? That it is a curse?"

He thought about it for a moment, and he realized something. He didn't feel so much that the gift itself was a curse – he'd helped Lucía with it, and it was a lot easier to bear with his family's support. (Though it was sometimes awkward, he knew they did mean well, and he was trying to trust them when they said they'd support him, whatever decision he made about his gift.) It was more – his fear of the past repeating itself, the burden of people's reactions - that was the curse.

He hesitated, and shook his head.

"You have a gift – a supernatural, miraculous gift from God because of the sacrifices and the love of your family – and despite people misunderstanding it, despite people abusing it – abusing you – for years, you still want to use it to help. Do you know how rare that is?"

He blinked.

"You have an advantage, Bruno. Your entire family does. I will admit that even Papá and I have been intimidated by the mystery of your family's miracle. The sheer magnitude of it is – overwhelming, sometimes. Many times, give anyone any little advantage, and their first instinct is to use it for their own gain. (1) But your family – and you, mi amigo – you have never done that. You've all been given immense power, and yet – you are all so eager to serve. The fact that we can sit here, having a conversation about your gift, your struggles with it, how you wish so desperately you could understand it better, with the intention of helping others – is a little bit of a miracle in itself. You are a gift to this Encanto, Bruno, just in the man you are – and who you are is connected to and has been shaped by your power, but that power alone is not what defines you."

"You helped me, and Josefina, and I - " she looked up and met his eyes, shrugging sheepishly. "I'm just glad to know you. It feels a bit surreal. It all does – all the magic. Sometimes, do you ever just – take a step back and – wonder, at it all?" She waved her hand vaguely before her.

Bruno's lips twitched into smile. "You mean, at how amazing it is that my five-year-old sobrino can ride a jaguar to school every day?"

A brilliant grin flashed across her face. "Yes! Exactly. How – how are we this fortunate, to live here, in this time and this place? To experience miracles every day? To be able to eat an arepa from Julieta and watch bone and flesh be knit back together? To be able to have Pepa stand in the breach of a summer storm and watch her calm it with her arms raised and her face turned up to the sky? To inhale the scent of a hundred different flowers and watch Isabela bloom them all, simultaneously, before our eyes?"

His smile dimmed, not at what she said, but at what he assumed she left unsaid – his gift was still, somehow, the hardest to reconcile, the hardest to appreciate - but she reached over and lay her hand over his, where he was gripping his mug, again. His fingers relaxed.

"…to be able to sit in my own kitchen with my own cup of coffee with my dearest friend, an actual prophet."

Bruno frowned and fidgeted. "I'm not – I'm not - "

Lucía laughed softly. "What do you call warning people of the future? What do you call seeing a friend in sadness, and going to help? If that's not being a prophet, I don't know what is."

Bruno felt decidedly uncomfortable and he must have looked it, because Lucía removed her hand and sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm not – I'm not trying to - to make light of anything. Or make you into something you're not." She frowned. "I just – from what you've told me, it sounds like you want to embrace your gift, but are afraid to. It's a part of you, and I think you should try to embrace it, if covering it up only causes you pain."

"But – I – why – why would I embrace something that hurts people." He voice was small and flat and more of a statement than a question.

Lucía didn't speak for a moment.

"I don't think your gift hurts people, Bruno. I think your gift – and all of your family's gifts, not just yours – have the potential to hurt people."

He looked up at her, startled.

"I acknowledge that fear, Bruno. But I'm not afraid of your gift, just as I'm not afraid of Luisa's or Isabela's or anyone else's. Do you know why?"

He shook his head.

"Because although some part of me might fear the idea of someone with gifts like yours – with gifts like your family's – I trust you. Can you imagine what those gifts could do in the hands of someone selfish? Someone greedy or power-hungry? Someone who allowed themselves to become twisted and vengeful and bitter and hard-hearted?"

Bruno swallowed.

"But I'm not afraid of your family, and I'm not afraid of you, because you've experienced all the possible things that could make you twisted and vengeful and selfish, but you're not. Especially you, Bruno. You're the perfect man to wield your particular gift, because of who you are."

He'd been so tense at the beginning of their conversation, but over the course of it, he had relaxed, and he felt warm and at peace, now. It wasn't that he suddenly had all the answers to his questions, but rather – he suddenly realized that he would be alright without getting all of those answers today. "Oh." He mumbled and his brows knit together. "So - who am I?"

She smirked at him and leaned forward, propping herself on the table with her crossed arms. "Let's see. You are…a fifty-year-old man with a deep love for ruanas, rats, and storytelling – and for your family. You are willing to wrestle with your anxiety and your past and many hard things, and I respect you for that. You are kind and gentle and forgiving. You think too little of yourself, and overthink things in general, and you have curls that frequently misbehave," she said in mock disapproval, reaching over to tug on one. He snorted, but looked down at his coffee and smiled to himself, and he was obviously pleased. She continued, "You have many gifts, one of which is making my daughter laugh. Another is acting. And one of which is seeing into the future. I think," she added softly, "it would be a shame if any part of you were to disappear entirely."

He looked up at her in surprise.

That's – that was exactly his problem, in a nutshell. He'd always felt – that his life, his family's lives – would be better, everyone would be happier, if his gift – if part of him - just disappeared. And he didn't want to disappear. He'd been relieved when his gift was gone because he didn't have to fear anyone's reaction to it…and now, that it was back, it was peoples' reactions he feared, again – more so than the gift itself. "Oh." His jaw worked for a moment, but there were no words that could convey his gratitude for the clarity she'd just handed him. "Uh - thank you. Lucía."

"I respect whatever decision you make, in regard to your visions, Bruno. Lord knows you've had enough pain from them in the past. But I think maybe giving them another chance is worth a shot, if you want to. After all, your family supports you now, right?"

He nodded.

Lucía nodded in return and lifted her coffee cup to him with a smile. "And you've got our support as well."

He announced at dinner that evening that he would do it – he would have a vision for Señora Ruiz. But he had some stipulations.

Several jaws dropped at that, though Pepa and Julieta quickly recovered. He could have probably pushed Camilo over with a feather.

Isabela used some flower petals and that did the trick.

By the time Camilo righted himself and sat back in his seat, Julieta had cleared her plate and had already begun writing down Bruno's guidelines, adding some herself. The whole family worked together to make – in essence – a contract that would protect Bruno and prevent history from repeating itself.

Bruno offered his arm to Señora Ruiz as she slowly climbed the stairs to the vision room. Although Julieta's food took away the pain of her deteriorating joints and helped prevent further damage, she'd lived outside the Encanto for so long before returning that there was no reversing the toll her travels had taken on her body. Fortunately, she didn't seem to regret it.

When they reached the top and he opened the door, she stopped for a moment, and her eyebrows shot straight to her hairline. "This is new," she commented wryly. "I love what you've done with the place, dear. The desert theme was getting a bit…dry."

Bruno laughed nervously and guided her over the bridge, helping her to the center of the stone circle. She would not sit, as her joints would make it difficult to rise again afterwards. Mirabel followed behind, closing the door behind them. She'd volunteered to witness the vision – both as support for Bruno and for Señora Ruiz.

They didn't forsee any issues. When Alma approached her with a private invitation to look into the future and make sure the trip was a safe one, Señora Ruiz thought for only a moment before agreeing to both the vision and the stipulations that accompanied it.

One: Señora Ruiz was a trial run. She would not tell anyone besides her now-reconciled husband that she was seeing Bruno Madrigal for a vision about her future trip. Señor Ruiz – who was also on the Council with Alma - was a trustworthy man and would keep it to himself. This was also a benefit, because if the visions were something Bruno decided that he wanted to continue, the man could both vouch for him and his success and help enforce the safeguards in place to prevent Bruno from becoming a scapegoat for the village again.

Two: She (and any other future vision seeker) would witness the vision with Bruno. If there was something in particular she wanted to focus on, she would tell him, and he would do so to the best of his ability. But she – the vision seeker – was responsible for paying attention to the images and helping Bruno to direct the vision. She'd been advised to keep an eye out for any golden butterflies.

Three: Bruno would give a vision but would not attempt to interpret it unless he was specifically asked for help interpreting it. As he said before – having a vision was the easy part. Understanding what it meant was another thing entirely.

Four: If the vision depicted something bad, she (or any other vision seeker), would not hold Bruno accountable for the things she (or he) saw. He was the messenger, not the manager.

Five: If the vision had two outcomes, the vision seeker bore sole responsibility for making the choices that led them to their desired outcome. Bruno was not responsible for any poor decisions made by anyone.

Finally: If she, or any vision seeker, at any time, was caught slandering Bruno Madrigal for a vision they did not like, they would be banned from ever seeking a vision again, and would be banned from the services of the Madrigal family for a period of time fitting the severity of the slander (with the exception of life – or – death emergencies that required Julieta's healing).

Camilo had helpfully created a slander scale. On the far left was a stick figure drawing of 'Padre Tomás' – who had unknowingly added fuel to the gossip fire but had not intentionally hurt Bruno. When Mirabel had asked him what vision Bruno had given him, he'd simply been stating the truth, not attempting to malign him. ('Oh, your tío, Mirabel. He said all my hair would disappear, now look at my head!' with an exaggerated eye roll and a smile. The priest, upon learning the pain it had caused Bruno to be blamed for it, had apologized and refrained from further using it as a joke.) On the far right of the scale was 'Tatiana Valencia', complete with a small, cartoonish drawing of the woman with angry eyes and devil horns. Alma had attempted to cover her laughter and said, apologetically, that while the scale was helpful for them and decidedly accurate, they'd need to come up with more concrete definitions if they were to submit it to the Council.

And so, Señora Ruiz agreed to the conditions of the vision, and she stood across from Bruno as he lit the leaves in the small mounds of sand he'd taken from the edges of the sand circle in his vision room. He stood, cracked his knuckles, and held out his hands. Señora Ruiz took them, and he closed his eyes and accessed his power.

It flowed out of him in a warm, invisible current, lapping at his skin in a gentle caress. It stirred the sand around them until it reached a crescendo in the large, glowing green dome above them. He opened his eyes and they glowed bright neon green, and he and Señora Ruiz stared at the images forming in the sand.

An image of a mule, its saddlebags loaded down, tethered to the horse Señora Ruiz was riding down the trail.

Señora Ruiz, looking between two objects in her hands and then returning one and handing coins to a shopkeeper in exchange for what looked like a globe.

Señora Ruiz, stepping behind her mule on a leafy trail to look at something in the foliage – the globe falling out of the mules's loaded saddlebags, startling it – and the animal kicking backward, hitting her square on the hip.

She lay in the grass, clutching her side, the globe lying beside her.

Bruno felt bile rise in his throat and shrunk into himself, but when he looked at Señora Ruiz and attempted to pull away, she only held on tighter and looked mildly concerned. "Can we look at it again? What if I don't stop and look behind the mule? Easy enough."

Bruno attempted to refocus on the horse and mule before the globe fell, but there were no golden butterflies to be found in that particular area. He shook his head. "I don't think that will change. Whatever you saw in the – the forest, it's – you're going to look. Behind the mule."

She nodded, determined. "Okay, let's go back to the shop."

Bruno blinked. "What if you just – don't pack the saddlebags so full?"

Señora Ruiz narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you telling a woman how to pack for a trip?"

He closed his mouth at that.

She gave him a tight smile. "Gracias, Bruno. We'll go back to that if we need to. But I am old and would prefer to make one trip, if I can. Bianca can handle the load. Back to the shop, please."

He refocused on the shop, and it came into view again. Señora Ruiz focused on the image and then blinked again. "Butterfly?" She asked, pointing.

And there it was, the golden butterfly fluttering to the side, flying away from the globe and toward the other object in the shop. This one – a book?

"Okay, I'm – buying a book…" Señora Ruiz muttered. "Now let's see what happens?"

The vision played on, and once again – she investigated something in the bushes. This time, however, nothing fell, the mule did not kick, and Señora Ruiz continued on her journey after just a few moments.

Señora Ruiz nodded and released Bruno's hands. "I'm satisfied."

Bruno allowed the vision to fade, and an emerald tablet appeared in his hands. It, too, had two outcomes. The first was of Señora Ruiz, clutching her side, eyes wide with pain, a globe on the forest floor beside her. When shifted, the vision showed her on her horse, a book tucked safely into the saddlebag at her side, the mule still tethered behind.

He handed her the vision with wide, anxious eyes. She took it from him, inspected it, moving it back and forth in her hands, and then looked up at him, her mouth pressed into a thin line. "Well," she said slowly. "I think I'd better buy the book. And," she added, raising her eyebrows at him over the tablet in front of her, "I believe you may have just saved my life. If not that, you've certainly saved me a lot of pain. Gracias, Bruno Madrigal."

It took two cups of Julieta's aguapanela con limón (and a dash of liquor) before Bruno stopped shaking, and Mirabel didn't leave his side the entire time. (2)

He sat and stared at the mug in front of him, his hands wrapped around it.

"Tío?" Mirabel said softly, bunching her hands in the fabric of her skirt, her shoulders hunched. "Lo siento - "

"Lo sientes?" He repeated, looking up. There was a strange, genuine smile on his face, and he shook his head. "I'm not. I'm not at all." (3)

The entire family had congregated in the kitchen with Julieta, Mirabel, and Bruno, and they all shared a look.

"Mirabel," Bruno said gently, and reached over to cover her worried hands. "I'm okay."

She looked up at him, uncertain. "But – the vision - "

"- had two outcomes, Mirabel. And Señora Ruiz chose the better of the two. She – she's prepared, now. She's more than prepared, she's – she had a choice. " Bruno blinked, and his expression changed to one of hesitant hope. "Mirabel – my gift helped."

"Bruno! Bruno Madrigal!"

Bruno's shoulders instinctively hunched at the sound of someone - someone with a deep, masculine voice - calling his name through the streets. Lucía stopped beside him, adjusting a large mochila on her shoulders. They were making their way to Casita with the scripts they'd printed previously and put together today.

It would be easier to practice at Casita, with the stage and props and costumes and rats being there, than it would be at la Casa Hernandez.

Seeing Bruno tense, Lucía immediately stepped closer, brushing her shoulder against his. He darted a surprised glance at her and she smiled. "You need an escort through town, I'm your girl, remember?"

Something warm bloomed in his chest and he blinked. "R-right."

They turned to face the person who'd called out to Bruno.

"Bruno!" Señor Ruiz jogged up to the two of them and put his hands on his knees, holding up a hand to give him a moment to catch his breath.

Bruno's heart rate increased rapidly and his stomach dropped to his feet. Señora Ruiz was due back today. Had something happened?

"Gracias, Bruno Madrigal." He felt the weight of warm hands on his shoulders, and he looked up to see Señor Ruiz peering at him, concern on his face. "You alright, hombre?"

"Uh – ah – yes?"

"Good." The older man nodded and he pulled Bruno into quick, tight embrace, and released him, his hands still on Bruno's shoulders. "She's back safely, and it's thanks to you."

Bruno blinked, and sweet relief flooded his features and caused him to relax. "Oh? Señora Ruiz? She's – she's back?"

"Sí! Sí, and it is all thanks to you!" He leaned forward, looking between Bruno and Lucía, as though gauging whether or not to speak in front of her. Lucía lifted her chin and smiled politely, but made it clear through her body language that she would not be leaving Bruno's side any time soon. Considering her short and slightly pudgy stature, the effect was rather less intimidating than she probably would have liked. It was - kind of adorable. And it definitely warmed his heart.

Bruno noticed the other man's hesitance. "Oh! You can – you can – I mean, she knows. About the vision. That I had one. Not the details, but it's – it's all good." He hadn't told her all the details, but he had told her he'd decided to have one for Señora Ruiz, and that it had had two outcomes, and that the older woman was grateful for it.

Señor Ruiz nodded in acknowledgment. "Simone is tired, so she's resting and eating some buñuelos from Julieta at home. She bought the book. You know," he said, leaning back on his heels and scratching the back of his head. "She stubbornly insisted that she would not get off of her horse the whole trip back. 'Why on earth would I ever go stand behind a mule like that?' she said. But you know what? She spotted a – what was it…" his voice trailed off for a moment, before he recalled. "…an Ecuadorian sac-winged bat in a hole in a tree. Apparently, that's very unusual, they usually live in colonies, and in caves or large cracks in the rock, and - " he shrugged. "She saw it, did a double take, dismounted, and was behind that mule staring at that thing before she realized it. So – gracias, Bruno Madrigal. Gracias."

He shook Bruno's hand again and then excused himself, and Lucía looked at Bruno from the corners of her eyes, a proud, knowing little smirk on her face.

He felt the heat from his chest rise to his cheeks. "What?"

She just smirked.

"What?!"

"I'm waiting."

"What?" He brushed off his ruana and self-consciously smoothed back his hair, and then looked around at the people moving around them. "For what? Why?"

"Because," she said. "You look shocked."

"Wha – well, yeah. I mean - "

"I'm waiting for the 'relieved shock' to pass and the 'pride and happiness' to come."

He stared at her for moment, and then it hit him.

He'd had a vision. He'd used his gift, and it had helped. And with his family's support, and the contract they'd written – he could use his gift again. And people might actually react like that, just a little bit more often.

A shy smile slowly grew to a full out grin, which only grew wider when Lucía grinned right back at him.

A/N: Whaaaaaaat? Is that Lucía, flirting just a little bit in the midst of all that heartfelt conversation? (Mayyyyybe.) Does she even realize she's doing it? (No, folks. The answer is no, she does not. But she willllllllll.)

1) This small section of Lucía's conversation with Bruno was paraphrased from a morning devotional by Toby Mac, of all things. (Eye On It – Steal My Show on Youversion). Of all things. I'm starting to see Encanto in everything, send halp.

2) aguapanela con limón – a Colombian sugarcane lime drink sort of like lemonade (boiled water, sugarcane, and lime juice). It's used as a refreshing summer drink and as a sort of cure-all/comfort drink, like tea and honey.

3) Lo sientes? - You're sorry?

Next chapter: Cute rehearsal fluff! God bless you all, and I'll see you next week! Thank you so much for your support! You make my day!