11. Chapter 11

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

Chapter 11

"All right, mis niños, welcome, welcome! Take a seat, that's right. We have a few stories to read today, and I'm so excited to get started!" Lucía welcomed the children arriving for story time, offering handshakes and high-fives and hugs to everyone that wanted one. School had finally resumed after everyone had taken time off to repair the Casa Madrigal, and she was eager to get into the routine of story time again as well. Tuesdays and Thursdays she hosted a story time for babies and toddlers who were too young for school. She would read a few stories, play some sort of simple game with the children, and the parents would have a chance to socialize before going home.

After school on Wednesdays and Saturday mornings she hosted story times that the school-age children usually attended. Sometimes on Saturdays, older siblings brought along their younger siblings, so she tried to choose stories on Saturday that would satisfy the wide range in ages – exciting and entertaining enough for the older children, but not so long or complex as to lose the little ones' attention.

The rest of the workweek was spent assisting her father with any orders for the printing press, (such as birth certificates, marriage licenses, invitations, and business contracts), helping him repair any damaged books, and organizing and cleaning the library.

Today was Saturday, and as such, the children arriving were a mixture of older and younger. She'd decided on two traditional tales today, El Renacuajo Paseador by Rafael Pombo, and a classic fable called La Gente Mono. Both were funny, entertaining, and, like most traditional children's literature, contained moral lessons. They were classics, so they were kept in the rotation and read at least once a year.

Once everyone was settled, she began with El Renacuajo Paseador, a tale of a young tadpole who ignored his mother's teachings and decided to go party with his friends, all three of whom ended up dinner for some cats and a duck. (1) She invited some of the older children who had heard the tale many times to act out the parts of Rinrin Renacuajo, Mother Rana, Niño Ratico, Doña Ratona, and the cats and duck. They were very entertaining, and by the end of the tale, the girl playing the duck was chasing the boy playing Rinrin around the circle of students, and 'gobbled' him up with such ferocity it took five whole minutes for the children to calm down afterward.

"All right, mis niños," she said, still quieting her own laughter. She waited patiently for them to settle, and began when they were all quiet. "Now, we begin La Gente Mono." (2) She pulled her treasured book of stories from the side table beside her chair, and thumbed it open to the pages she, her father, and Alejandro had worked together to retell, print, and illustrate. "As you know, this tale has been told in Colombia, and across South America, for many, many years – since before even Señora Madrigal or my own Papá were children."

"Once upon a time, a long time ago, a village near a lake in the Amazon rainforest was filled with happy, hardworking people. They had everything they needed to live happily – fruits and fish and fertile soil for gardens, plenty of trees and leaves and stones to build their homes, animals and plants to provide them with materials for clothing, and a cool lake filled with the freshest of water."

"Over time, however, the villagers became lazy. Little by little, they allowed chores to go undone. Fruits and vegetables rotted, and flies moved in. Houses became dirty and animals escaped as fences fell into disrepair. But instead of cleaning up their home, the villagers decided instead to move to a new spot around the lake. But they kept their lazy ways with them! When their new home became as disgusting as their old one, they kept moving around the lake. Eventually, they had moved to every possible spot along the lake, and found themselves right back in their original village! Now, the villagers met to talk about the problem. Talking about problems was one of the few things the villagers still did with any enthusiasm."

Lucía continued the tale, dramatically voicing the different village leaders, who all decided that sleeping was the best way to come up with an idea to solve the problem. When they awoke the next day, one of the village children, a small boy, brought an old man to them, claiming to have found him living in a brand new house on the outskirts of town.

The village leaders, of course, were shocked to discover his brand new house, with no rotting compost or flies and fresh food on the table. The man himself wore splendid, soft, clean clothes, and seemed very cheerful. When asked how he had managed to build himself all of that in a single night, he explained that he had not lifted a single finger! Instead, he had made helpers for himself out of sticks from the forest. In demonstration, the little boy handed him a stick, and the old man carved it into a figure with a tail. Clapping his hands, the figure sprang to life!

"Now," Lucía continued, making her voice low and scratchy like the old man's, "this little stick monkey will do whatever you ask, but he can only do one job. I am happy to carve as many figures as you need, free of charge."

She continued the tale, explaining that the villagers quickly began calling out orders for the old man, who carved and whittled the little stick monkeys as quickly as he could. With three claps, the little monkeys awoke and began doing the chores the villagers requested. Within a day, the little stick monkeys had cleaned up the village, doing all the chores the lazy villagers should have been doing on their own. At first, the people were happy. The village was clean, they were well fed, and they could lie about all day, writing poetry and making music and thinking great thoughts.

They got greedy. They asked for more and more stick monkeys, and soon – the little figures were rocking hammocks, fanning the villagers, and popping grapes into their mouths.

Soon, however, even that became tedious for the villagers. They complained that the chewing of their neighbor disturbed their ability to write poems, and demanded a stick monkey write their poems for them. They complained it was too difficult to make music while others were napping and snoring away, and ordered their stick figures to play music for them. They complained that even sleeping was too difficult, as dreams interrupted their much-needed rest, and commanded their stick monkeys to dream for them!

"Eating is so much work," Lucía complained in a nasally voice, acting as a villager. "First, I have to open my mouth! Then I must chew and swallow. What's worse is that my poor stomach must digest everything I eat!"

The children giggled, and one little girl snorted, prompting another round of laughter. Lucía smiled and waited until they were quiet again, and continued.

"You think that is tiring? Look at all the breathing I have to do!" She switched her voice, making it deeper and rougher. "In and out, in and out, all day and all night. It never stops, even when I am sleeping! No wonder I am exhausted!"

The story continued as the villagers got even more stick figures – to do their eating, their thinking, and even their complaining! Soon, people became sick. The only thing they had enough energy to do from their beds was complain. There were so many little stick monkeys, the little stick monkeys soon needed servants of their own – to help them get their food, and shoo flies away, and then - to write their stories and dream their dreams and voice their complaints.

"You couldn't tell the lazy village people from the lazy stick people," Lucía continued. "The village became more and more crowded, and there was pushing and moaning and complaining and restlessness, and everyone was miserable. The only one who seemed to be alert enough to even ask the old man to stop creating more and more stick helpers was the little boy who found him in the first place. The old man offered to help the boy leave the village, and the little boy accepted. The little boy escaped the village, following the old man, and soon after, the stick figures vanished as well. The people of the village slowly recovered, and, relieved to have the peace of their village restored, got back to the business of living. They cleaned up their homes and mended their fences and picked their own fruit. They made sure to space out their chores so that when they were done, they still had enough energy left to write their poetry, make their music, and dream their dreams. As for the stick monkeys, some say they returned to their original form when the old man left with the boy. Some say they grew hair and escaped to the rainforest as real monkeys. And as for the little boy, why –

"He is the one who has been carving you a monkey as you listened to his tale!" Her Papá stepped out from behind her chair as she closed the book with a thump, and he dramatically whipped out a small wooden carving of a monkey, which he placed on the table beside Lucía for all the children to see.

He raised his hands in the air. "Shall I clap it awake?" He said, something spooky and sinister in his soft voice.

"NO!" The children shouted – equal parts terrified and entertained. Some squealed, some laughed, and Juan shouted out "Yes!" just to see what mischief he could cause.

Lucía rolled her eyes and handed the monkey figurine to the nearest child to pass around. "Be careful, niños. Although it is made of wood, it is also delicate. You may all look at it and then bring it back to me when you are done."

The children stretched as they passed it around, talking quietly amongst themselves and preparing to leave, when a soft voice asked, "Señora Moreno? Are we the lazy villagers?"

Lucía blinked for a moment, searching out who had spoken. María, a nine-year-old girl who was friends with Lucía's sobrina Gabriela, held the carved monkey thoughtfully.

"What do you mean, María?" She asked carefully. While both of the stories she had read today held themes of avoiding peer pressure, avoiding laziness, and the value of hard work, she had not intended for any of the children to take those lessons so personally. They were general life lessons, not directed at any one person or family in particular.

María looked up at her. "Señora Madrigal announced the new helping schedule for her family this week and Papá was not happy that Camilo couldn't come help with Nico last night. Mamá said we've got to stop relying on the Madrigal family so much, because we've gotten lazy."

Lucía felt her heart stutter at María's words. It was true that earlier this week, Alma Madrigal had met with the town elders and explained that she had pushed her family to work too hard these past years. Together, she and Mirabel presented a new schedule for helping the town. Each family member had specific duties and days and times they would carry those duties out. There were spaces in said schedule for the villagers to request assistance from them with specific things – but Alma had explained firmly that any assistance outside of said schedule was out of the question unless it was an emergency, and the holder of the gift determined what was an emergency and what was not.

Apparently, Camilo did not consider baby Nico not cooperating with a regular babysitter an emergency, and had refused to babysit for Maria's parents last night. Lucía had to agree with the teen. She'd peeked at the schedule in the town square, and he already had several days during the week where he offered his services after school. He had even generously offered time slots on Saturday evenings twice a month to babysit for the villagers. It was simply first come, first serve on the schedule sign up, and Fridays were not a day Camilo had on the schedule for any service. Actually – none of Pepa's side of the family had time available on Fridays, and none of Julieta's family had time available on Thursdays – those days, it seemed, were set aside specifically for each individual family to rest and bond. Sundays the entire Madrigal family was unavailable except in case of emergency.

While most of the village accepted the schedule without complaint, about a quarter of the townspeople were more vocal about just how unhappy they were at the change. Lucía thought the schedule was more than fair and even generous. Most of the gifts (except Bruno's, his was not on the schedule at all) seemed to be utilized daily in a way that allowed the Madrigal family to help the village while still pursuing other interests. However, it made Lucía uneasy to hear how entitled some people had become.

"Are the Madrigals going to leave us because we've been so lazy?" María questioned, her voice trembling at the idea. By now, all the other children were listening to Maria and looking to Lucía for an answer.

"Oh, no," Lucía reassured her. "No, no, mi querida, of course not. We just rebuilt their home, they are not leaving us."

"So if we rebuilt their house shouldn't they be helping us now?" Juan asked.

Lucía attempted to keep her expression even, but inside, a spike of anger stabbed through her gut at the misinterpretation of her words. "Well, Juan," she said, knowing that he was just parroting the adults he'd heard. She wanted him to think critically about his opinion, not criticize him for it. "I helped them rebuild their Casita because it was the right thing to do, not because I expected something out of it. When someone is in trouble – when someone is in need – I think you should help them, even if you don't get anything in return."

"My little children," interjected her father from across the room, where he was shelving books. "let us not love with words or speech but with action and in truth." (3)

Juan wrinkled his nose. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, young man," her father said, turning around to face him, "that you do not just shake your head and tut and wish people well when misfortune befalls them. When bad things happen to your neighbors, you help them with your actions. You offer them food and clothes and a place to stay. You help rebuild their house. You help them find lost donkeys. You help them rock their babies. You help them clean up their mess. You help. Period."

"So shouldn't they be helping María's family rock Nico?" Juan argued.

"But they do!" Gabriela protested, turning around to make a face at him. "Camilo helps watch Nico, like, once a week. But he can't watch every baby every day! That's impossible!"

"Yeah, if we're trying to keep track, they were helping us, like, way way way before we helped rebuild the Casita," piped up another child.

"But - " Juan kept attempting to argue with Lucía or her father, but she sat back and watched the children discuss the Madrigal family, allowing them to find their voices.

"Yeah! If we're going to keep track we owe them, like, a bazillion favors," Alejandra said, frowning at her fingers as she attempted to count.

María looked crestfallen. "We are the lazy villagers!"

"No we're not!" Another child objected. "We say 'thank you'!"

"The lazy villagers said 'thank you' at first!"

"We don't make them fan us and feed us grapes."

"But we do ask Doña Julieta to feed us, a lot."

"And Luisa moves everything…and always finds all our donkeys, even when we're the ones who let them out…" Gabriela said softly, realization dawning on her. "We shouldn't ask her to carry our donkeys every time they escape, 'specially when it's our fault they got out."

Lucía clasped her hands in her lap, her feelings conflicted. She was proud of them, and also anxious to reassure them - they were just children, after all. But things in the community had changed, and they needed to work through how that affected them - and how they affected others as well. She let them discuss and bicker for a few more moments, and then gently interrupted. "Mis niños, I am proud at how you are considering how the Madrigals feel. You are showing how compassionate you are and taking responsibility for your mistakes. Some of us – many of us – have made the mistake of taking the Madrigals and their gifts for granted. Making mistakes is normal. The important thing is to learn from our mistakes, to apologize, and to try to fix them. The way the Madrigals do things are changing now, and that means our old way of doing things may change, too. La familia Madrigal is amazing, and they are generous with their gifts - but our families are strong and smart and have gifts, too."

"Yeah, like my mamá tells stories!" Josefina cried out, jumping up and pointing at Lucía.

"My mamá can sing so pretty it makes the birds listen!"

"I'm really, really good at math!"

"My abuelo can play accordion and sing at the same time!"

"My tío can make almost anything out of metal!"

"I help Señora Lopez teach the little kids their letters at school!"

The children called out their own and their family's talents, one by one, until even a frowning Juan admitted that his Papá was a very good farmer and his Mamá was a great dessert maker.

Lucía beamed at them. "There, you see! They may not be magical, but you all have gifts to share as well!"

María nodded seriously. "I think we should share our gifts with the Madrigals like they share theirs with us."

Lucía stared at her for a moment, breathless – and then a wide smile broke out across her face. She clapped her hands with delight. "That's a wonderful idea, María!"

"Yeah, but how am I supposed to share my mama's singing voice with them?" A little girl by the name of Dora asked, confused.

Lucía smiled and shook her head. "No, no, mis queridos. We are not sharing other people's gifts – we are sharing our own. We can't volunteer others to share their talents. We can only take responsibility for ourselves. You can ask your parents and abuelos and tías to share their gifts – and remember, many of them do share their gifts and do already help the community in many ways - but you can only ask, and accept their answer. I think that many of us have fallen into the idea that now that the Casa Madrigal is complete, we have nothing more to share with them. But I think it's a wonderful idea, María, to continue to share our gifts and our gratitude to the family that has helped us all for so long."

"But what can I do?"

"We can make them thank-you cards!"

"And obleas!"

"And polvorosas!"

"And salpicón!" (4)

Before they could get carried away with the desserts, Lucía laughed and stood up. "Que lindas ideas, niños! (5) I think right now, if you have time, we can make the Madrigal family some cards, and I believe I have the ingredients to make a quick batch of polvorosas. I think that is a beautiful start, and you can discuss ways with your families to share your gifts with the Madrigals – and with other families in the community."

"And we won't be lazy villagers anymore!" Maria said proudly.

"I never said you or anyone else was a lazy villager," Lucía clarified. "In fact, you have all worked extremely hard these past few weeks, and I am very proud of all of you. But I do support the Madrigal family and their new work schedule. Remember, at the end of the story, the villagers still found time to play and dream and rest. It is balance that is important. We can help la familia Madrigal while they find their balance."

She and her Papá brought out paper and crayons and paints, and some children worked on cards for the Madrigal family, while others followed Lucía out of the shop and across the courtyard into the kitchen, where they made a batch of polvorosas and placed them in a bowl.

When the children were done, some went home, while some walked with Lucía and Josefina to deliver their final product. Lucía and Josefina and the remaining children presented the sugary cookies and the cards to Alma and Mirabel, both of whom blinked with shock before delighted smiles spread across their faces.

They only stayed long enough to say 'gracias' in a chorus of (mostly) childish voices, pass on their gift, and go home in time for lunch and siesta.

When Alma and Mirabel passed out the cards later, there was at least one for every member of the family.

Even Bruno got a card with a picture of him with a bucket over his head and 'Gracias Jorge' written across it in childish scrawl, signed by several children.

But his favorite was a small, folded piece of paper, where Josefina wrote 'Gracias Bruno' on the outside in a rainbow of colors. Inside, there was drawing of him, Josefina, Lucía, and Señor Hernandez, dressed in their finest party clothes, with music notes around them. 'We love you from Josefina', was written in careful block letters. A scribble beneath that looked suspiciously like it was supposed to be Señor Hernandez' signature. 'Your friend always, Lucía' was written in precise cursive to the side.

He swallowed and rapidly blinked away tears. He felt like he could weep, he was so touched. He tucked the small piece of paper into the front pocket of his shirt, near his heart.

His rats would just have to stick with the other pockets from now on.

The following day was a day of rest, and Lucía enjoyed going to church with her Papá and Josefina, before spending the rest of the day with Sofia and Lorenzo and their children. On Monday morning, Lucía made her way through the center of town after walking Josefina to school, her basket on her arm, ready to pick out some fresh produce for the week. She greeted several of the stall keepers and carefully chose some avocados, bananas, tomatoes, potatoes, and onions. They still had some cornmeal, rice, flour, and sugar left from the large stock that had been shared with them to help feed the Madrigals, and she carefully made her way up and down the street, searching for some papaya. It was Josefina's favorite, as long as it was perfectly ripe. She scored two from Señor Balard that she knew Josefina would enjoy, and handed over the coins with a smile. As she turned away, she went over the list in her hand, noting she still needed eggs and cheese, before a shrill voice pierced her focus.

"Señora Moreno!" Lucía looked up and blinked, turning to find the source of the voice. She saw Tatiana Valencia – Juan's mother - striding toward her, her face dark with fury. She was a beautiful woman in her early thirties, tall and willowy with sun-kissed skin, hair the color of dark honey, and brilliantly blue eyes that were currently flashing with animosity.

"Señora Valencia," Lucía responded calmly, though her heart rate was already increasing as the woman invaded her personal space, stepping so closely that Lucía took a step backward and bumped into the papaya vendor's table. "How can I help you?"

"Did you tell my son we are all lazy ungrateful slobs dependent on the Madrigals?!" Tatiana hissed, pinching her thumb to her forefinger and wielding her hands and her words like swords in combat.

Lucía's eyebrows shot up and her lips parted in disbelief. "No – no!" She said, once the shock had worn off enough for her to speak. "I did not - "

"So now my son is a lazy slob and a liar? You have some nerve, Lucía." Tatiana spat.

Lucía straightened and attempted to turn her basket between them to give herself some more space, but Tatiana Valencia refused to move, shoving the basket so that one of the papayas in it fell to the ground with a wet thump.

"Señora Valencia!" Señor Balard cried, attempting to keep the rest of his papaya from rolling off of the table. "Please!"

"Stay out of this, Señor," Tatiana smiled tightly at him. "It does not concern you."

She turned back to Lucía, her mouth twisted in disgust. "Juan came home on Saturday, very quiet, not his normal confident, rambunctious self. He told me he was thinking about the story you read, and I let it be. But last night, he was still moping, and I coaxed the truth out of him. He claims we shouldn't be asking la familia Madrigal for help anymore! That we have taken advantage of their gifts! Bah. Do you think you are free from guilt, Señora? Do you think you're better than us, to lecture us on accepting help from the Madrigals?! Well - "

Lucía winced and attempted not to bump the papaya table as Tatiana continued with her rant.

That morning, Dolores sat with Bruno and Alma at the kitchen table. Camilo, Mirabel, and Antonio were at school. (6) Luisa was walking with her Mamá and Papá through the surrounding jungle, helping them search for new ingredients to use. They had confirmed this past week what Alma suspected – that Agustín now had the ability to help Julieta cook. When the two of them worked together, his food healed as well as hers, even if it did not look quite as nice. He could not heal by himself, however, and so far, no one else that had assisted Julieta with cooking was able to share in her gift. It seemed Agustín alone was able to help his wife in that way.

The family had worked carefully to make a schedule that balanced the town's needs and wants with their own. Julieta had decided that Monday mornings would be spent working on her own cookbook, tweaking and creating recipes that were more exciting for her than her normal fare. This morning, Luisa volunteered to accompany her parents, helping them reach things that might be too difficult for them otherwise. The afternoon would see them in their typical places in town, helping with whatever was on the agenda for the day. Pepa, Félix, and Isabela were in the fields surrounding the town, working on strengthening and cultivating the crops.

That left Dolores at home with Bruno and Alma, content to practice the sewing Mirabel had left her. They were all attempting to find other hobbies for themselves, discovering who they were apart from their gifts, and it was going more easily for some than for others. After Antonio got home from school, Dolores would accompany him to the fields surrounding town, listening for any animal pests in the fertile soil, and Antonio would convince them to leave. Tomorrow morning, she would listen to the town, making sure no one was in need of emergency services from her Tía Julieta, before assisting Señora Ruiz in the jungle. The older woman had returned four years ago from her travels outside the Encanto, and was now working on cataloging the wildlife within it. Dolores enjoyed helping her, listening for different calls and animal sounds. She supposed Antonio would probably be more help than herself, but he was still so young and needed to be in school. After her work with Señora Ruiz, she would have dinner with Mariano and his mother. She smiled to herself, content and hopeful with how bright the future looked.

A shout from somewhere in town disturbed her concentration, and she accidentally pricked her finger with the needle. She gasped and sucked on it for a moment, taking the sting away, and pushed her gift out to listen and make sure no one was in trouble. Most of the shouting in town was from excitement or enthusiasm, but every now and then, angry words still grabbed her attention. This was one of those times.

Usually, Dolores tried to mind her own business. She would listen for a moment, make sure the argument was typical and not dangerous, and then tune it out. This, though –

"Did you tell my son we are all lazy ungrateful slobs dependent on the Madrigals?!"

"No – no! I did not - "

Dolores' face grew pinched and uneasy as she listened to the onslaught of bitter words from Señora Valencia. She could tell they were in a public place – near the fruit stands in the center of town – and she focused on Señora Moreno, noting her rapid heart rate and heavy breathing.

" -thing wrong, kid?" Bruno asked quietly, and Dolores blinked and refocused her attention on her Tío and Abuela, who were both staring at her, concern evident on their faces.

Dolores hesitated, and Abuela quickly reassured her she did not have to share, if she did not think it necessary.

"-think you are better than us, to lecture us on accepting help from the Madrigals? -"

This, though – it involved them. The family. It wasn't just about Señora Moreno and Señora Valencia.

"It's Señora Moreno," Dolores said softly, biting her lip. She didn't notice, focused as she was on listening to the argument in town, but Bruno sat up a little straighter and froze, a brief look of panic spiking in his eyes before fading to mild concern. "Señora Valencia is very angry with her."

Abuela blinked, surprised. "With Lucía?"

"Yes. It's – they're in town, near Señor Balard's fruit stand. She's yelling at her in public. She's saying – that her son came home, accusing Señora Moreno of telling the children at story time – that they were all – lazy slobs, who were too dependent on the Madrigals - " Dolores spoke quietly and rapidly, explaining as she listened. Bruno and Alma exchanged a look of shock. That did not sound like the Lucía they knew.

"Señora Moreno is apologizing, trying to explain that it was a misunderstanding. She read – El Renacuajo Paseador and La Gente Mono. They're – classics, she reads them every year. She says – the children decided to – say thank you to us for all the help we've given over the years – and to try to share their gifts with the town instead of depending on ours – it was all their idea – she just encouraged them - "

Dolores winced. "There goes another papaya," she whispered, and then her eyes grew wide with shock.

"What is it?" Bruno asked, his voice low. "What's wrong?"

Dolores closed her eyes and shook her head, her voice small. "She crossed a line, saying that. Abuela - I don't – I - "

She opened her eyes as Abuela kissed her forehead. "Don't worry, mi querida. I will take care of it. You said Señor Balard's fruit stand?"

Dolores nodded.

"Bruno - " Alma turned to her son – but he was already gone.

"Just because you let the Madrigals stay with you for a few weeks, you think you're better than us?!" Tatiana shouted.

Lucía shook her head, still tense but growing more annoyed than afraid of the woman who still pinned her beside the papaya stand. She'd already apologized for the misunderstanding and attempted to explain, but Tatiana Valencia was obviously in no mood to be placated. She was angry, and she wanted the entire town to know it.

And know it, they certainly did. There were quite a few people, frozen in shock, staring at the sight before them. Señor Balard, the sweet man, had tried again to calm Tatiana and distract her, but the woman had only turned her wrath on him and caused another of his fresh papaya to fall to the ground and roll away before turning her attention back to Lucía.

"Or," the woman said, a sudden look of smug understanding dawning her beautiful face – "or, do you just not want the town relying on them because they failed you?" She pointed an accusing finger at Lucía's chest, stopping just short of touching her.

Lucía frowned. This conversation had just become much more personal, and she didn't like the direction it was going. "I don't – they did not -"

"Oh, don't think we haven't all thought it, before, Señora. If Pepa hadn't gotten angry over Camilo's behavior at school, the rains would have been on time, as scheduled – and there wouldn't have been the mudslide, making the mountainside unstable. If Dolores had been able to hear Alejandro as the rocks fell, Luisa would have been able to find him sooner – if he hadn't been unconscious, Julieta would have been able to feed him back to health. If he had just told Isabela what plants he was looking for, she could have grown them for him. And if that cursed man - " Tatiana spit over her shoulder, " - had stayed with his family instead of disappearing into the jungle, he could have seen it would happen and - !"

"That is enough!" Lucia said sharply, her words overlapping Tatiana's as tears of both anger and sorrow pricked her eyes. She then lowered her voice, quiet and harsh. "Don't you dare imply that. I have never blamed the Madrigals for Alejandro's death. It is not their fault he decided to wander into the jungle after - " she caught herself, but not before a triumphant smirk lit Tatiana's face. "It is not your place to blame them in my stead. You sound like you believe they owe you - "

"They have gifts, they were given them to serve the town," Tatiana sniffed. "It's probably your fault Señora Madrigal instituted that stupid - "

"Lucía," a strong, firm voice interrupted Tatiana's dying rant, and the woman froze, a panicked look crossing her face for a split second. She quickly schooled it into one of teary innocence, and Lucía pressed her lips into a thin line at her theatrics.

"What good fortune that I've found you here," Alma Madrigal continued calmly, picking up a papaya from the ground and handing it to Señor Balard, who nodded his thanks, relief evident on his face.

Tatiana spun around to face the town matriarch. "Oh, yes, what good fortune you came when you did, Señora Madrigal." She sighed and leaned forward. "Señora Moreno has been exposing our children to questionable content during her 'story times'. I think you should -"

"Mi nieta has the gift of hearing, Tatiana," Alma stated drily. "Do you think me to be ignorant of what you have been…discussing, today, when you have been speaking at such a loud volume?"

Tatiana blinked. "Well, of course not, but -"

Alma turned back toward Lucía, ignoring the other woman. "I wanted to invite you and your family to dinner this evening. Antonio has been missing playing with Josefina, and the older children and I were hoping to return the book we borrowed on simple machines and exchange it for one on steam power, and also perhaps one on electricity? Mirabel and Camilo, especially, have developed an interest in the more modern technology Señora Ruiz has recorded in her travels. With the Encanto more easily accessible, we thought perhaps such modern conveniences could become more easily accessible here as well. Only time will tell, but we would love to discuss our ideas with you and your father. Perhaps one day we will invite Señora Ruiz for supper as well, though her interests have shifted to biology since coming home."

Lucía nodded, unable to come up with a coherent reply in the face of Alma's nonchalant dismissal of Tatiana, whose face clouded at their exchange.

"Well, I have taken up enough of your time. Please, have a wonderful day, Lucía. We look forward to seeing you and your family again this evening."

Lucía nodded again and muttered her thanks, and numbly took the papaya Señor Balard held out to her to replace the one that had fallen from her basket, earlier. When she offered payment again, he shook his head in refusal and patted her hand. She offered the man a weak smile, and stepped around Alma and Tatiana, glancing uneasily over her shoulder as she walked away.

A/N: Where is Bruno? You'll find out next chapter. Sorry for the sort-of cliffhanger. This whole scene was a lot longer than originally planned! I hope the story time scene did not bore you. It was important to understand the context of the argument later in the chapter.

1) El Renacuajo Paseador – 'The Walking Tadpole', a children's story by Rafael Pombo

2) La Gente Mono – 'The Monkey People', a traditional Colombian folktale. The story Lucía tells was paraphrased, copied, and retold from summaries on Amazon of "The Monkey People: A Colombian Folktale (Rabbit Ears We All Have Tales)" by Eric Metaxas AND by "The Tale of the Lazy People", a Reader's Theater Teacher's Guide from Reading A-Z that I found on a school website matalas dot weebly dot com. (The fanfiction site makes it very difficult to link and credit sources. This is my best effort to give credit to those I got the story from. If you google those things you will find the sources.)

3) 1 John 3:18 - A Bible verse

4) Obleas – ultra thin, waffle-like sweet dessert with cheese or jam or caramel sandwiched between them

Polvorosas – shortbread-like sugar cookies

Saplicón – a fruity drink, like punch

5) Qué lindas ideas, niños – What nice ideas, kids!

6) Based on my research of Colombian schools, schooling is compulsory until age 15, which coincides with the last year of high school. From there, university degrees, if students choose to pursue them, typically take 5 years. So in my story, this is Camilo and Mirabel's last year of school. That won't be a major plot point at all, just wanted to share.

As always, THANK YOU! Your reviews are SO encouraging and uplifting and make me smile. God bless you and have a great week!