21. Chapter 21

A/N: Edited 7/5/22 for spelling and grammar. This one's a long doozy of a chapter, but I didn't want to break it up. Sorry. Time for Bruno and Lucía to do some detective work. òwó

Chapter 21

Mamá was just leaving when Bruno and Lucía arrived at Casita, Dolores right behind them. Mirabel had already left to return to Antonio, where he was waiting with Sofia and her son Diego in the town square; Sofia's other children were helping their padre search for their prima. A small pang of guilt twinged in Bruno's chest at his Mamá's expression, and he paused.

"Mamá…"

She just shook her head, something warm and sad on her face, and she patted his cheek. "It's okay, Bruno. Lo siento. What…"

"I'm – I'm giving her a vision." He hoped he didn't look as scared as he felt.

Mamá looked uncertainly between them. "I can – do you need - ?"

He knew what she was struggling to ask.

"No contract, Mamá. This is an emergency."

She nodded and stepped aside, and she, Julieta, and Pepa watched the two of them climb the stairs to his room.

Bruno never let go of Lucía's hand as he led her back to his vision room.

He was trembling again and his hands were clammy but she didn't seem to mind. She was gripping his hand just as tightly.

Dolores had decided to stand outside his main door, both to give them some privacy and to listen for any news on Josefina.

He pushed open the door to his vision room, and – as he'd done at every threshold along the way – he knocked, and threw salt and sugar over his shoulders, and crossed his available fingers and held his breath as he entered. His nervous tics, which had been slowly getting better over the past weeks, had returned full-force. He was anxious about Josefina and would take all the luck he could get.

Lucía stopped for a moment, gasped, and blinked at the sight before her. After a moment, she shivered slightly and refocused. "We step in there?" She asked quietly, nodding to the circle of sand.

He nodded. Any other time, and she probably would have gushed about how beautiful it was. Josefina would have made several loud exclamations about how she was never going to leave. His mouth pulled down at the corner. They had to find her.

He offered up a silent prayer that this vision would have at least some good news, like the last.

Something about the idea of his last vision – no, not the last one, but - a previous vision - tickled at his brain, but he pushed it to the side for the moment. He had a task to do.

He knelt in the vision circle, and guided Lucía to do the same. He released her hand and reached over to a small box that Mirabel had gotten for him to house his dried leaves and matches. He quickly made his small piles of sand and lit the leaves. Then he rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles before holding both his hands out to Lucía again.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked her, his heart pounding. He was risking everything by having this vision – or at least, that's what it felt like, to him. If this vision showed something bad happening to Josefina – something that couldn't be changed - his relationship with Lucía would change forever. Even if she didn't blame him, things would be different.

But this wasn't just about him, and it wasn't just about Lucía. It was about Josefina…and if his visions could help find her and bring her safely home where she belonged - then he'd risk his everything for that.

Just as he had with Mirabel, he'd risk everything for any one of his sobrinos - and Josefina - with her constant presence in his life since Casita fell, with her complete acceptance and pure, innocent affection for him as a person, uninhibited by the baggage that had accumulated around him; this niña, with her enthusiastic, stubborn spirit and unconditional love – Josefina was as precious to him now as his sobrinos were. She wasn't just some kid from the village; she was connected to him in a way that was undefined and unconventional but significant, nonetheless. He felt her disappearance keenly – not only because she was Lucía's daughter, but also because of what Josefina meant to him.

Lucía nodded. "Are you sure you want to do this?" She parroted his question back to him, anxiously searching his face.

She desperately wanted to find her daughter, but she was still giving him an out, if he needed it. He was overcome by a warmth of affection for her that managed to blanket his worries, for the time being.

"It's for Josefina, right?"

She nodded.

"Then I'm sure."

She put her hands in his, and he closed his eyes.

His power was astounding.

Even if the throes of grief and fear and worry, his vision room – in all its beauty - had given her pause.

But this – this was something else entirely.

Lucía gasped as the air stirred around them, caressing her skin and tousling her hair, picking up the grains of sand that surrounded them and swirling them into a large, glowing dome. Bruno opened his eyes, and they glowed a bright neon green.

Lucía's breath caught in her throat. He was surreal, like something out of a book of fairytales in her Papá's shop, and if she weren't in such pain and panic over her missing daughter, she would marvel over how beautiful he was.

"Look," he said – and released one of her hands to point at the image in the sand.

Josefina, barefoot and curled up and sleeping on the grass.

Lucía gasped and stood and reached out a hand, as though to touch her, pulling Bruno up with her – but the image shifted.

Juan Valencia, biting his lip and pointing to something.

"Juan?" Lucía breathed, frowning and confused - but the image shifted again.

Josefina, crouched in a ball, hiding, as legs passed in the ferns beside her.

And finally –

Josefina, in her mother's arms, the two of them crying but together, foreheads pressed together.

Lucía gaped at the image of the two of them, and turned with such swiftness to Bruno that he instinctively flinched and looked away from her.

She noticed and she was immediately sorry. Still holding one of his hands tightly in hers, she lay her free hand slowly and gently on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb reassuringly over the fabric of his ruana. He looked back at her, with his bright glowing eyes, his expression relieved.

"Is that going to happen?" She breathed.

He nodded, and tears filled her eyes, a tremulous smile on her face. "She's okay. She's going to be okay. Bruno – she's going to be okay!" She pulled him into a tight, one-armed embrace, their hands still joined awkwardly between them, and he returned it with an intensity that surprised her, before letting go.

"She'll be okay," he whispered.

A determined look came over her face. "How do we get there – to that?" She gestured to the image, still in the sand before them, and Bruno squinted, the images playing in reverse. He stopped on the image of Josefina napping and attempted to go back farther – but there was nothing. "She's probably sleeping now – and will be for a while. I can't go back further than that."

Lucía nodded, and inspected the scene before her. Josefina was on a bed of grass, surrounded by ferns, her shoes and mochila by her side. She looked to be sleeping peacefully. "Is she in the jungle?" She asked Bruno.

He shrugged. "Maybe? It looks like it to me."

He pressed forward and the image shifted, again to Juan Valencia.

"Why is he in the vision? Did he – did he have something to do with – this?" Lucía whispered. She didn't think Juan could have anything to do with Josefina disappearing. He was not his mother, and even Tatiana would not stoop so low as to harm a child. Besides, she did not look harmed. She looked fine.

"I don't know about that – but he probably has something to do with finding her because he's in the vision." Bruno said.

"What is he pointing at?" The attempted to see, but the vision would not allow them to see what he was gesturing to.

Bruno pushed forward, little by little, and they continued to press through the vision again – searching for any sign that would lead them to Josefina and the final image of her home, safe and sound.

They only found that Josefina would be startled and hide from someone walking in the forest, and when Lucía asked, tentatively, if they could avoid talking to Juan – she didn't want to drag Tatiana into this if she did not have to – to their horror, a decision to avoid talking to Juan led to a vision of Josefina with dark circles under her eyes, ill in bed, with Julieta and Lucía pressing spoonfuls of food to her lips. Lucía had been so upset she asked if she could see the original vision again – and sighed in relief when the original outcome reappeared.

Bruno released her and Lucía watched as the sands solidified into a green tablet in Bruno's hands, a look of tired relief spreading across his face. He frowned as he tilted it, and Lucía leaned over to see. Flat, the tablet showed the original outcome – Josefina in her mother's arms, teary relief on both of their faces. Tilted, it showed the outcome if they refused to speak to Juan – Josefina ill in bed.

They looked at each other, and Lucía's lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm going to go see Señora Valencia and see if I can speak to Juan."

Bruno nodded and offered her the tablet and she slid it carefully into her bag, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface with reverence.

"Gracias, Bruno," she said. The words were simple, but full of feeling. "Are you alright?" She looked him over with concern.

He stepped back a bit and held his arms out in front of him, stretching his shoulders with a few cracks and a pop, and tilted his neck side to side. He rubbed his hand over his face and brushed the few grains of sand that had fallen on him out of his hair and off of his shoulders, but he gave her a tired smile. "I'm fine. Nothing some sleep won't cure later. And – ah – I'll – maybe grab something of Julieta's for the road. But – I'm – I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You – you don't have to come, if you're too tired. It's okay - "

"I'm coming," he said firmly, and then seemed to hesitate. "If – that's okay with you."

"Of course it is. I just – don't want you to get hurt, or sick or – too tired. I don't want to worry about you, too."

They found Señora Valencia with Juan. Madre and hijo were nearly to the school, each carrying a box in their arms. Dolores had told them right where to find her, and she kept in step with Bruno and Lucía as they walked. Dolores had promised to stick to Lucía like glue until Josefina was found. She obviously felt guilty about not catching the girl leaving town earlier, even though Lucía assured her it was not her fault in any way, shape, or form. Both Dolores and Bruno had worked so hard all day. Dolores, with her listening, and Bruno, with his visions. Guilt battled with gratitude in Lucía's heart at their actions.

Bruno had given her a short update on Marisol as they walked – which was wonderful, but bittersweet news – no one had really ever left the Encanto permanently; not since Señora Ruiz – and even she returned, eventually. Who knew if the family would ever return? They would be missed. Lucía knew having that long, drawn-out vision, and then another shorter one for her and Josefina, had only tired him again. Just as he had when the murales disappeared, he'd shown up at exactly the right time, in exactly the way she needed. He'd done so much to help her – to help her and Josefina – already. Even if all he'd done was offer emotional support while she searched, that would have been more than enough. This, though - this was above and beyond. His place in her heart was firmly cemented there, and she kept glancing at him to make sure he was doing as well as he claimed.

"Señora Valencia!" Lucía called, once they were close enough to be heard.

The woman in question stopped, looked over her shoulder, frowned, and then turned around and kept walking.

Lucía felt that cold shoulder like a slap in the face. She felt her face pale and then flush and she balled her hands into fists at her side. Didn't she realize Josefina was missing? Did she really think Lucía was going to rehash old arguments right now, of all times? "Señora Valencia!" She called again, her voice sharp and strong.

Bruno swallowed and his shoulders tensed as he looked to Dolores. He kept in step with Lucía, darting a nervous glance her way as Tatiana sighed dramatically and turned to face the three of them.

"Señora Moreno. Señorita Madrigal." Tatiana dipped her chin in acknowledgment, and spared a quick glance of disdain for Bruno before refocusing on Lucía; an action which caused Lucía to bristle even more toward the woman in front of her.

Lucía squared her shoulders, took a breath, and reminded herself why they were there. "Señora Valencia – Tatiana – may we speak with Juan for a moment? Josefina - "

"-is missing. I'm aware. We've brought the remainder of the obleas we made for school to offer to those searching for her. My husband is searching his fields at the moment." Tatiana sniffed and deliberately looked away, not meeting Lucía's eyes.

Lucía blinked. "Oh…um…gracias…may I speak with Juan for a moment, please?"

Tatiana narrowed her eyes at her. "Why on earth would you need to speak with Juan?"

Juan swallowed.

Lucía bit her lip. "Juan, have you - "

"I did not give you permission to speak to mi hijo, Señora Moreno."

Dolores squeaked in shock and Lucía jerked her gaze back up. All of the stress of the day imploded into her chest and she was speechless. Her jaw worked for a moment, eyes bright and angry, and when she spoke next, her voice was low and serious, and she was shaking with the effort of not shouting. "Tatiana Valencia. Mi hija is missing, and I don't give a single papaya seed about whatever grudge you seem to be holding against me -"

"-against you? You're the -"

"-but Josefina has nothing to do with any of this!" Lucía raised her voice slightly to cover Tatiana's. "Bruno had a vision - "

Tatiana's face twisted in horror. "What, that maldicion saw something horrible happen to her, and you blame my Juan?" She stepped protectively in front of Juan and gave Bruno a dark look. He looked away and seemed to wilt. Dolores took his hand and lifted her chin and glared at her.

"Tatiana, what is wrong with you?" Lucía cried, before Dolores could say anything in return, tears springing into her eyes and desperation into her voice. "Bruno is not a curse – he is a blessing and a good man and a good friend; it is not his fault people like you cannot seem to take responsibility for your own actions or your own future. He is good and kind and worthy of respect. He helped me – he is helping me find my daughter! He's seen that Josefina will be fine – as long as I speak with Juan! I don't think Juan had anything to do with Josefina's disappearance, but the vision showed us speaking to Juan, and he pointed at something, and if you just let him tell me what he saw, we'll find her and she will be fine!"

Tatiana's glare relaxed into something slightly less defensive, her fingers loosening their grip on the box of obleas in her hands. She swallowed uncertainly, but did not speak.

Lucía threw her hands up in the air, her voice rising in pitch and volume as she continued. "I don't know how to get through to you. I'm appealing to you as a mother, as a human being in pain – so help me – I hold no grudge against you at the moment; I've been avoiding you for my own peace of mind, because you seem to think everything I do is a personal vendetta against you! But words and paintings are nothing to flesh and blood – if my daughter ends up deathly ill in bed because you refuse to let me ask your son a question - in your presence, no less - it will take the power of God for me to forgive you! If – if you let me speak with Juan, I will tell the council I consider whatever debt you have to me forgiven; whatever restitution they told you to make to me will be paid in full. Just – let me speak with him, por favor!"

Tatiana, Bruno, Dolores, and Juan looked at Lucía with shock and awe on their faces. None of them had ever seen her so much as raise her voice to shoo a fly, let alone shout at another person. Dolores had her hands over her ears and took them down slowly, as it was apparent Lucía was done.

"Lo siento, Dolores," Lucía murmured under her breath, not taking her eyes off Tatiana. Tatiana blinked and looked away, obviously overwhelmed, but before she could speak, Juan stepped forward.

"I saw her -"

Tatiana did not stop him, but she looked at him with such an incredulous expression on her face that he cut himself off mid-sentence.

He took a deep breath and then faced his mother. "Mamí – I lied to you," he whispered bravely. "I lied about wanting to do the project on my own and make obleas with you."

A hurt expression flitted across her face, but she didn't interrupt.

Tears sprang into his eyes, but he blinked them away. "No one wanted to be my partner, Mamá, so I had to do it alone. Because – because of you. Papí is right. Nobody – nobody likes any of us anymore. Nobody wanted me on their team."

Tatiana's whole face crumbled and she staggered toward him. "Juanito - "

"But Josefina invited me to be on her team when she heard me – being upset. And I had to turn her down because I didn't – I didn't want to make you mad. And now she's missing and everyone's looking for her and I want to help. Right now," his voice fell to a whisper again, and he hung his head – "right now, if I went missing – I don't know if anyone would help you look for me."

Tatiana looked horrified, but when her mouth moved for a moment without speaking – Lucía stepped in.

"Juan," she said softly, "That's not true. None of this situation between your mamá and I is your fault, and everyone would look for you as hard as they're looking for Josefina. Lo prometo."

Tatiana glanced at her and then set her box of olbeas on the ground and pulled Juan in for a hug. "Lo siento, cariño – Mamí is so sorry." She kissed his head and brushed his tears from his eyes, and closed hers for a moment. When she opened them, she looked down at her son and spoke again. "Lucía...is right," she said slowly, as though the words caused her actual pain. "About this. None of this is your fault, bebé. None of it. If you saw something, you – you go on and tell her what you know."

Relief filled Lucía's entire being as the small group continued walking toward the school and Juan explained what had happened that morning. Tatiana had taken his box of obleas as she picked her own up again, and he gestured with his hands as he spoke. He told them how Josefina had seemed upset, carrying the silleta by herself, and how he'd helped her finish carrying it to school, and how she'd left it there, and that she had her mochila with her and that it looked pretty full, and how she told him it was none of his business where she was going.

By then, they had reached the school. Juan shrugged helplessly, bit his lip, and pointed in the direction he'd last seen her walking. "I watched her walk down there, to the main road. I thought – maybe she was going to visit her Tía Rojas? But then she didn't turn that way. I think – she went toward San Cristobál?"

Bruno and Lucía exchanged a worried look, and then Lucía turned back to Juan and gave him a small, tired smile. "Gracias, Juan. We have a direction now, which is a lot more than we had earlier. You were very helpful."

Lucía straightened and looked Tatiana Valencia in the eye. She struggled to find the words to say. She finally settled on a stiff, "Gracias, for letting me speak with Juan. Consider this your restitution."

Tatiana nodded and looked away. "I hope you find Josefina," she mumbled.

Lucía turned as they walked away, relieved to be done with them. Juan had pointed them in the right direction, and they could concentrate their search along the road toward the other town. Dolores spoke with the hummingbird flitting around them, courtesy of Antonio, and it flew off toward him, where he was presumably with Alma and Mirabel in the center of town.

But – why would Josefina want to go into town? What possible motivation would she have for heading toward San Cristobál? She tapped her index finger against her lips as she thought.

"Did it have anything to do with her project for school?"

Lucía startled and Bruno gave her a sheepish wave from beside Dolores. She hadn't realized she'd been thinking out loud.

Lucía sighed and looked around. "Well, we are here – we might as well look at it, sí? It won't hurt to find another clue before we meet the others along the road."

"Oh, Josefina," Lucía murmured under her breath as she spotted some familiar sketch marks in the paper flowers on Josefina's group's silleta. She bit her lip and blinked the tears from her eyes as she carefully removed one of them and unrolled it, the top half of one of Alejandro's sketches curled in her hands. It was the sketch of when Awilda and Alf – now Imelda and Ramón – first met. The two glared angrily at each other, but the lower half of their bodies was missing, and half of their faces were now concealed with pale brown paint.

She turned to Bruno and held out the drawing, and he winced as he took it from her. "Oh, no." He whispered, and looked back up to meet her eyes. "This - this is why, isn't it?"

"Poor bebé," Dolores whispered as she took in the mess.

Lucía nodded. "It has to be. She was so excited all weekend. She – she must have realized what happened with the manuscript last night or this morning…and…decided to go to San Cristobál…?" She was still staring intently at Bruno, as though she could find some answer to her questions in the quirk of his brow or the color of his eyes.

Fresh tears stung her eyes. "Did she think I would be so angry with her that she felt she had to run away? I know I've been distracted the past few weeks; we've been busy…but – I – I thought she was enjoying herself. And I would rather have her than a thousand sketches! She has to know that!"

Bruno gently put the scrap of paper down on the desk the silleta was displayed next to. "I think she does. You're a good madre, Lucía." He wrung his hands in front of him and hesitated. "I think…somehow…it's all connected. I think – the murales disappearing, and her reaction to that, and then realizing she'd ruined another piece of – of her padre's artwork – it's all connected."

Lucía thought for a moment.

"Bruno," Lucía said suddenly, reaching forward to still his hands, her fingers encircling his wrist lightly. "You said you've had an incomplete vision of me, before. On a bench. That – that was fulfilled today, wasn't it? Was there anything else you remember seeing in the other vision that could be connected to today?"

Bruno blinked and frowned, concentrating on his memory of the vision of her he'd practiced searching and holding up a finger for each image he recalled. "Murales – bench. Then – murales – teacher – La Feria de Las Flores project – kids in the art studio – ah, that was when – I see now. Then – talking to Juan – Luisa, working by the bridge - "

Lucía started. "Luisa? She wasn't in the vision we had earlier. We saw – Josefina napping, Juan, Josefina hiding, Josefina safe. Right?"

Bruno nodded. "Right." He scratched his cheek. "Ah – the thing with Luisa, then – it must've happened before we had our vision together. It had already happened, so we couldn't see it again."

"Luisa was working by the bridge this morning, sí?"

He nodded again.

As they turned to go, he sighed, gently massaging his temple with his fingers.

Lucía turned back to him, her determined expression fading just a bit as she took in the dark circles under his eyes.

"Bruno? How are you holding up? You can – you should go home, if you need to. We'll let you know as soon as we find her, lo prometo."

He shook his head. "You won't need to. I'll already know. I'm fine. I'm - I'm staying. Okay?"

She just stared at him for a moment, something warm and ambiguous in her expression. "Okay," she whispered.

By the time they'd reached the main road, there was already a small crowd of other villagers there; among them were Mirabel, Luisa, Parce, and two Antonios.

The Antonio on Parce's back lept off and shifted into Camilo, who rubbed his face and stretched his arms. Mirabel offered him an arepa, which he took with gratitude and ate with gusto, before explaining that Parce had tracked Josefina well into the jungle, before loosing her scent in the stream.

They listened anxiously as Antonio confirmed with Parce that he had followed Josefina's trail to the bridge, then into the jungle before she appeared to have attempted to cross the stream. He explained that Parce smelled her attempts to climb up the bank on the other side, but could not smell a trace of her after that.

There was stunned silence as the implications sank in.

"Lo siento," whispered one of the villagers, her young face stricken. "What a tragedy."

Lucía frowned. "The stream was not deep, sí?" She looked to Camilo. He shook his head. "Maybe ankle to shin deep, where Josefina crossed."

Bless him for not saying 'attempted' to cross.

"Then it is not a tragedy." She said firmly. "We think she was trying to get to San Cristobál, but obviously she could not cross the bridge. There was no bridge. She did not go back the way she came, when she couldn't cross the stream?"

Camilo looked to Parce, and Antonio communicated that no – the scent trail was lost in the water, and there was not a new one on the way back.

Lucía nodded. "She could not cross, so she either went upstream or downstream, until she found a place where she could."

When several villagers shifted uncertainly on her feet, pity on their faces, she squared her shoulders, patted the vision tablet in her bag, and addressed them. She knew how this ended. "Do what you will. I will not rest until I find mi bebé."

Dolores paused suddenly. "Shhhh!" She held out her hand, listening intently. A hush fell over the group. A small smile broke out on her face, and she turned excitedly toward Lucía. "I hear her. I think...she's this way – which side of the stream she's on I don't know. But I hear her. She is…near to the stream. Sleeping. It's got to be her. Somewhere that way." She pointed to the right side of the bridge.

With that, the search split up on either side of the stream. While Parce claimed that Josefina had not returned on the path she'd taken through the jungle, she may have attempted to climb out on the same side she went in, further down the stream, and then walked off in a different direction.

They spread out, Dolores and Lucía on one side of the stream with several volunteers, Bruno and Luisa with several volunteers on the other. Mirabel and Antonio stayed near the makeshift bridge Luisa had put together for temporary use in the search for Josefina. As they walked through the thickly forested jungle, they spread out to cover more ground and ensure they would not miss any clues as to the young girl's whereabouts, calling her name and encouraging her to wake up and come home.

It wouldn't be long, now.

He found her.

He found her.

He'd walked right past her, at first – but something about the patch of ferns looked familiar from the corner of his eye, and he backtracked.

He parted the ferns, and there, curled into a frightened ball, was Josefina.

"Josefina," he breathed, and her head jerked up. She stared at him with big, red-rimmed, hazel eyes, and his heart leapt with relief. "I found her!" He breathed. "I - " found her, he was going to yell, but -

Her face crumpled and she started to cry.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay. You'll be okay. Are you hurt?" He asked urgently. He mentally kicked himself. He'd given the last of his emergency arepas - something they all carried in situations like these - to Camilo, who'd been tired and hungry after staying shifted for so long.

He crouched down, but she just drew her knees more tightly into her chest and hid her face in them.

"Are you hurt?" He asked again.

She shook her head.

"Can I see?" He asked.

She turned her head to peek at him, her wavy black hair framing her face and giving her a wild, sad look. He gently lifted her chin and inspected her head, and her hands and arms, and her bare feet – but aside from a nasty bruise on her elbow and a scrape on her knee, he couldn't see anything wrong. Her cheeks were flushed and her forehead felt a bit warm as well, but again – that was something that Julieta could easily fix.

"Luckily, an arepa from Julieta will heal that right up," he said, attempting to sound cheerful. "Should we go see her?" He stood up and offered her his hand, but she just shook her head and began to cry again.

"I can't go back!" She managed to choke out in between sobs. "I – have – to go – to San Cristobál – to make – rest – it – ushon!"

Bruno blinked. "What?"

"I did something – so – bad. I – mfphk bfmlo -" She buried her face into her drawn-up knees again, and her speech became muffled. He couldn't make out what she said.

"Dolores! Dolores, I found her. On mine and Luisa's side of the river. Come find us, por favor," Bruno said, directing his voice across the stream. She'd probably already heard him talking to Josefina, but he wanted to make sure she knew.

"No!" Wailed Josefina, into her knees. That he could understand.

He repeated his message once again, and then dropped down and sat cross-legged beside her.

"You know, you gave us a quite a scare, kid," he said quietly. "We didn't know where you were. Why were you trying to go to San Cristobál?"

He gently laid a hand on her shoulder and she scooted closer to him, pressing herself into his side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and rubbed her arm lightly, attempting to allow her to release all of her feelings.

She brushed the tears away from her cheeks, but new ones replaced them just as quickly.

"I - I accidentally – I don't know how but I - " she sniffed. "I – my friends – we accidentally used Papá and Mamá's story in our silleta project." She choked on the admission. "I – it's all cut up and painted and ruined and I - " she started sobbing again, and turned and pressed her face into his ruana.

He could feel her sobs reverberate through his chest, and he scooped her up and put her in his lap, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She wrapped one arm around his waist and the other hand clung to the front of his ruana, bunching and unbunching the fabric in her fist as she cried.

"I'm so – so mad. And sorry! And sad, and – now – I have – to make – rest – rest – rest- it –ushon - "

"Restitution?" He asked as the word finally clicked in his brain.

"Mmmhmm. I have to go – to – San – Cristobál. And – and – get something – to – fix – it."

"Oh, niña," he murmured. "You don't have to do that. You didn't have to do that."

"But I did! I do!" Josefina said angrily, lifting her head to glare at him. The effect was lost as she was still crying. "I have to so that I don't have to go to – the – the Council – like – like – Tatiana Valencia!"

Bruno shook his head. "That's not how it works, kid."

"But - "

"The only reason Tatiana Valencia was there was because she chose to go and get involved in - ah – in council matters. The murales was public, but – the manuscript, that wasn't – that was something private, between you and your mama. And she would understand. She does understand. All you had to do was admit what happened and say you were sorry. She understands."

Josefina's face dropped. "She knows?" Her voice wavered.

Bruno nodded. "She knows. But - uh - she's -"

Josefina burst into tears again.

"Hey, hey," Bruno soothed, attempting not to panic or cry himself. It had been ages since he'd comforted a child this young. He held her and rocked as best he could sitting on the ground and patted her back softly and let her cry. "It's – it'll be okay."

Josefina shook her head so fast and hard Bruno felt her whole body move. "It's all wrong and she's going to be so sad, she acts like she's okay but I'm not dumb!"

Bruno blinked.

"I know she was sad about the murales! I know she was sad about – about the marketplace – and the murales – and – and Papá! She pretends to be okay but she's not! She tells me stories and shows me his work but she – she is sad still and now she's going to be even more sad because something else of his is gone and it's not coming back! He's not coming back! He's not coming back."

Bruno's mouth twitched and a tear dripped down his face.

"Everyone else at school has a padre," she whispered, her voice small and broken. She leaned her head on his chest, her own chest heaving with emotion. "But I don't. And now I lost - I ruined what I did have. And it's not fair."

Bruno swallowed. "I – I'm sorry. I – it's not fair. I know how it feels."

She sniffed skeptically.

"I don't have a padre either," he admitted quietly. "And I didn't have one as a kid in school. He died when I was a bebé. It – it is hard."

Josefina stilled in his arms. "Does it make you mad?"

Bruno trembled. He'd – he'd never really talked about his padre, with anyone. His Mamá, of course, spoke of his father Pedro's sacrifice with reverence, and his portrait hung in the most prominent place in Casita growing up. Everyone in town knew of the hero his father was – but no one but his mother knew the person. And he learned very young not to ask too many questions, lest his mother grow sad and melancholy.

"Sometimes," he whispered honestly. "Sometimes it made me mad. And sometimes it still makes me sad. But I haven't – I haven't felt – I haven't thought - " He gasped with a sudden onset of emotion. "Mostly I – I wish – things had been different. But that was impossible, and I knew it was impossible, and I guess I sort of – ah - I – adjusted." He concluded lamely.

He looked down at the child in his arms, looking earnestly up at him. Her brows were drawn together as she focused on what he said. He swallowed. He didn't want her to just…adjust. He shook his head slightly. "But – it's okay – you can tell your Mamá about how you're feeling, you know? She's – she's good with things like that."

"I know. She should just tell me how she's feeling too." She frowned.

"Well, ah - " Bruno said. "Right now, she's probably just feeling so relieved that you're okay. Earlier – she was – she was not okay, niña." He gently tried to lift her off of him, to stand, but she clung to him. He sighed. "She was so worried about you, Josefina. We all were. The whole town has been looking for you, since lunchtime. And look." They looked up at the sky, and the sun was nearly set. "We should be getting back, before it gets dark. You should never go off on your own like that. Ever."

"…I'm in so much trouble, aren't I." Josefina whimpered, her voice small and afraid. "And I didn't even get to San Cristobál."

"I can't say much about the trouble part. That's – up to your madre. But – I do know your mamá loves you. So much. So very much. More than all the artwork in the world, more than those sketches of your papá's, more than anything. Even if she's mad, she'll be so happy you're home safe."

Josefina smiled.

"Can you – can you stand, for a moment?" She shifted off his lap and stood, and he got to his feet as well. She picked up her shoes and put them in her over-stuffed mochila and lifted her arms to him, and he stared at her for a moment before bending down to pick her up again. She put her arms around his neck and leaned her head on his shoulder. Her forehead still felt a little overly warm, and he shivered. The night air was cooling around them. She shouldn't be this warm.

"Oof. What have you got in that bag, kid?" He complained good-naturedly, attempting to keep the worry out of his voice.

"Bananas," she murmured into his shoulder. "And arepa crumbs. They got wet when I fell into the water. So I had to get rid of them. And my canteen. And money. All my money."

"You've got a lot of money for a six-year-old. Where'd you get all that?!" Bruno began to work his way back through the brush.

"Ratón Perez," Josefina said. "I've lost three teeth. Plus I had some birthday money left over. Mine was just before Antonio's, you know." (1)

"Three teeth?" Bruno attempted to whistle but it sounded a bit wooden. "No wonder you're loaded."

Josefina giggled, but tensed as the trees beside them trembled with motion. Luisa appeared between the trees, making a small exclamation of surprise and offering to carry her. Several other villagers who had been looking on that side of the stream were making their way toward them as well. When Josefina refused, clinging to Bruno's neck again, Luisa offered to carry him.

"Oh – ah – uh -"

"Josefina!" The three of them looked up, and Lucía was running through the jungle, batting ferns and leaves and vines away and leaping and stumbling over tree roots as though she were an Olympic athlete from Ancient Greece, Dolores failing to keep up behind her. When she reached them, Josefina half-fell into her arms; one arm around her Mamá, and one still around Bruno. Bruno staggered forward, and Lucía sank to her knees, taking Bruno down with them. The three of them half-fell, half-sat, together, in a hodge-podge pile of clothes and limbs and hugs and tears.

"Josefina! Josefina! Josefina!" Lucía cried, holding her tightly to her chest. "Josefina! Mi bebé! Mi amor, mi corazón, mi fresita – you're okay! You're okay!" She kissed her hair, she kissed her forehead, she kissed her cheeks; she pressed her forehead to her daughter's and held her and kissed her and laughed and cried and the relief she felt was palpable to all those who witnessed it.

Bruno swallowed, his throat suddenly thick with emotion. He was vaguely aware of the people standing around the three of them on the ground – Dolores, Luisa, several other villagers – and he felt, a bit, like he was intruding on something intimate, that was meant to be just between madre y hija. Just between parent and child. But when he went to gently extricate himself, Josefina refused to release her hold on him.

When she had finally reassured herself of Josefina's well-being, Lucía drew in a long, calming breath. Josefina was still half in her mother's arms, half in Bruno's, and Lucía's tear-stained gaze met Bruno's over Josefina's head. He looked away, apologetic, feeling out of place – but Lucía reached out and cupped his face with her hand, her fingers ghosting over his beard along his jawline and her thumb brushing over his cheek. She drew his gaze back to hers with the gentle stroke of her fingers.

Gracias, Bruno, her lips mouthed silently. Stay, said her eyes.

He gave her a tremulous smile in response, and he thought his heart might burst with relief and with love for them both.

He loved them.

His breath hitched at the realization – at the sheer magnitude of it – but Josefina shifted and their connection was broken.

"Mamá…" Josefina kept her head and her voice low as she spoke. "Mamá…lo siento. Lo siento muchísimo – for the – for the – for Papá's drawings – and – and – for making you worry, for making you sad - " she swallowed. "I just – I wanted to – I wanted to keep you from feeling – even more sad. And the murales - "

"Let's not worry about that, now," Lucía murmured, pressing her lips to Josefina's forehead again and frowning. When Josefina fidgeted in response, Lucía tilted her chin gently to catch her daughter's eye. "To clarify, mi amor – you are not in trouble for the accident with the manuscript. However," she narrowed her eyes at her, "you are in trouble for lying, hiding, sneaking out of town on your own, making a long list of foolish choices, and worrying me half to death. We will discuss the consequences of your actions later. And there will be consequences. But for now – Gracias a Dios - I'm just so happy you're safe."

She smoothed the hair from Josefina's forehead, leaving her wrist against the warm skin. She sighed. "You feel hot, Josefina. Are you feeling alright? You're not hurt?" She inspected Josefina – her head and face and arms and legs and hands and feet – but aside from some scrapes and bruises and the abnormal body temperature - which could have been from a fever or a sunburn, she wasn't sure - she seemed fine.

"We should get going. It's getting dark. We'll get some food from Julieta and you'll be just fine."

Lucía sent a prayer of gratitude heavenward and stood, pulling Josefina up. Bruno scrambled to his feet as well, and Josefina finally let him go. They walked together, surrounded by Dolores and Luisa and the villagers who'd reached them, and as they approached the main road, they heard the church bells ringing in the distance, signaling that Josefina had been found.

"I told one of Antonio's birds. They must have gotten the message," Dolores explained.

Several villagers had brought lanterns, as the sun had almost completely disappeared beneath the horizon, and they glowed and flickered on the road, like small guiding stars. There were quiet congratulations and shouts of celebration and exclamations of joy. Mirabel embraced Bruno first, and then Dolores, and then Luisa, and thanked each towns person in turn for their help. They made their way back over the makeshift bridge – which Luisa picked up and placed to the side once everyone had made it across. It was unsafe to leave as it was; they'd have to finish it tomorrow.

Bruno and Lucía took turns carrying Josefina back down the road and through town. Josefina didn't want anyone else, and though it wasn't terribly far, they were all tired and had to pass her back and forth a few times.

Julieta met them in the town square, handing out arepas and buñuelos to anyone who needed them and taking a moment to inspect Josefina. Julieta looked over her scrapes and bruises and diagnosed a mild fever as a result from being wet and exposed to the elements all day, and promptly prescribed two buñuelos and a warm bath. By the time Josefina had swallowed her last bite, every scrape and bruise had disappeared and her fever was gone.

One by one, villagers made their congratulations and well-wishes to the mother and child before heading home, spirits raised and hearts light. The Madrigals slowly flocked toward the center of town as well, feeling all the more relieved at Josefina's safe recovery because of the weight of their gifts and responsibilities. Knowing glances were exchanged and eyebrows were raised in silent communication as the family checked in on each other before preparing to go home, together.

Dolores hung back from the crowd around Lucía and Josefina. She smiled at the scene, but she couldn't deny she felt overly emotional after the events of the day. She was so tired, and she nibbled halfheartedly on one of her tía's arepas.

"Mi amor," a deep, familiar voice carried over the crowd, and she perked up. She hadn't seen Mariano all day, though she had heard him. He'd joined the search parties on the opposite side of town and she'd heard him ask regularly after her. Their responsibilities that day had simply led them in opposite directions. Remembering his concern for her and yet also his full trust in her brought a fresh set of tears to her eyes.

"Mariano," she murmured, turning until she spotted him.

He wove his way through the dispersing crowd until he reached her side, and she leaned into his embrace, not wanting to let him go. "Mi amor," she breathed, turning her head to lay her ear against his chest, the familiar cadence of his heart a comfort to her tired ears. "Mi corazón."

"You were a hero today, mi tesora." He spoke so softly, but his voice rumbled through his chest and she felt the reverberations through her whole being. (2)

She shook her head. "I still feel like - if I'd been awake earlier, I'd have heard her leaving, and none of this would have happened."

He pulled away slightly, brushing his fingers along her jawline and gently lifting her face toward his, framing her face with his hands. "Dolores," he whispered. "If you listen to only one more thing today, listen to this:" He paused. "You were magnificent. You have a heart of gold. Te amo."

Dolores turned into his hand and smiled into his palm, pressing a kiss to it. "That's it?"

He smiled at her, and he was radiant with love for her. "That's all you needed to hear."

Lucía said her last tired thanks as the last villager walked away, and turned to both her familia and the Madrigals. Pepa held Antonio, who was looking rather sleepy in his mother's arms, and Félixstood beside her, rubbing her back. He held a large umbrella over them to keep her drizzle off of Antonio. Clouds were building on the horizon, and after such an emotional day, they'd all welcome the rain to sleep to. Dolores and Mariano stood to the side, looking into each other's eyes and murmuring to each other. Camilo and Mirabel sat on a bench, alternately staring tiredly at nothing and poking each other and smirking. Luisa and Isabela talked quietly with their parents, and Alma stood beside Bruno, pride and apology alternating in her expressions as they spoke.

He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his arm, and Lucía's mouth twitched up into an affectionate smile.

"Luci," Sofia spoke quietly at her side. Papá stood to her other side. They'd all met at the town square with the rest of the villagers and had taken turns holding Josefina as they thanked the townspeople for their help. "It's getting late, mi amor. Will you be all right tonight? Do you need me to stay the night with you? Lorenzo's got the niños taken care of."

"Hmmmm?"

Sofia rubbed Lucía's arm to get her attention.

"Luci."

She blinked sleepily at her hermanita.

Sofia smiled. "You need me to stay the night with you?"

Lucía stared at Josefina, who was rapidly nodding off in her arms. "No – I think – we're just going to sleep tonight. I'll give her a quick bath – but – I'm exhausted. But – maybe – tomorrow morning, you could stop by?"

Sofia nodded and gave her hermana and sobrina a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. "Of course. I'll see you both tomorrow."

Papá had begun the process of thanking and saying good-night to the Madrigals, and Lucía approached each of them in turn as well, thanking them and embracing them as well as she could with her one free arm. Josefina blinked awake at the jostling, and when Lucía got to Bruno – Josefina lurched forward to wrap her arms around Bruno again.

Lucía fumbled for a moment to support her daughter's awkwardly balanced weight, and Bruno staggered, but he quickly returned Josefina's embrace. The six-year-old then kissed his cheek and nuzzled her face into his shoulder.

"Te quiero, Bruno," she whispered. "Te quiero." (3)

He attempted to swallow the lump in his throat at that, and he closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her head. "Te quiero, Josefina," he whispered in return.

When he opened his eyes and gently returned Josefina to her mother, Lucía was staring at him with something akin to adoration on her face.

She blinked, and the look was gone – but still, she held his gaze. She shifted Josefina's weight on her hip and tentatively reached for Bruno.

He stood frozen, with his arms at his sides, not knowing what to do.

She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. She hesitated for just a moment before she pressed her lips lightly to his cheek, in the same place Josefina had kissed, and pulled away.

His eyes widened and a flush spread from his cheeks down his neck. "Gracias, Bruno. For everything." She stepped away, and looked down. "Get some rest tonight? And maybe – I'll – I'll see you tomorrow?"

He cleared his throat. "Uh – ah – yeah. I'll – I'll see you. Tomorrow."

Alma pressed her hand to her heart as she watched Lucía walk away beside Señor Hernandez, carrying Josefina in her arms.

Bruno watched them go as well, and he didn't move until they turned down a street and out of sight, and then his shoulders relaxed and he exhaled as though he'd been holding his breath. He absentmindedly rubbed his palm over his chest, scrunching the fabric just above his heart.

"Oh, Pedro," she murmured, her fingers automatically encircling her locket. "Gracias a Dios for helping us find Josefina. And as for her mother - he's not just interested in her. He – he already loves her." Alma laughed, and it was almost a giggle. "Él está tragado." (4)

A/N:

1) Ratón Perez – the Colombian equivalent of the Tooth Fairy. Ratón Perez is a little mouse who takes lost teeth in exchange for small gifts or money.

2) Mi corazón – my heart

Mi tesora – my treasure

3) Te quiero - I love you.

4) Él está tragado – Literally – he is swallowed. Figuratively, a Colombian expression meaning someone is head over heels in love

* squee! * I want to know what you think. I was so excited to finally post this chapter; I've had the Bruno/Josefina/Lucía scenes written For. Ev. Er.

I truly appreciate all of your favs, follows, reviews, comments. Thank you so much for your support and encouragement. God bless you all and have a great week!