12. Chapter 12

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

Chapter 12

At that moment, Bruno knew three things.

One: Lucía Moreno, a real-life, honest-to-goodness, actual human who chose to be his friend, was currently being harassed by Tatiana Valencia, a woman he knew very well could carve your heart out with some meticulously chosen words and a cruel smile.

Two: His mother might check on Lucía, but she would focus her energy on Tatiana, because she was the one threatening the family's reputation. Old habits die hard.

Three: Lucía would need someone, afterwards.

Sadness and anxiety welled up in equal measure at that last fact, and Bruno stopped his frantic pace down the road and paused at a literal crossroads. His eyes alighted on the stables beside him. He had a choice to make. Straight ahead and to the right – Lucía and Tatiana. Public involvement in an altercation involving his family, his friend, and a nightmare in human flesh. To his left – the stables, the Casa Rojas, and Lucía's sister.

Something inside him felt as though he should be there for Lucía, but from experience with his own past run-ins with Tatiana (she cut deep, fast, and personal) - he knew she would need someone who loved her and knew her better than he did.

He'd met – or been 'reintroduced' to - Sofia Rojas, of course, and her husband Lorenzo, and their children – but though she was nice enough, she was louder and more intimidating than Lucía. Perhaps it was her presence, used to commanding a household of five children. Whatever it was, he wasn't exactly excited to be knocking on her door and bringing her bad news.

He sighed. It wasn't even his gift that had brought it, this time. But he knew it was the right thing to do. He could tell the two sisters were as close as he was with Pepa and Julieta.

Decision made, he turned toward the house, hands trembling with anxiety.

"Bruno! Hola! What brings you here this morning?" Sofia opened her door, a small boy clinging to her skirt with his thumb in his mouth and his eyes watching Bruno warily.

"I - uh – I think your sister is – is in trouble and I think she's gonna need your help." Bruno wrung his hands as he spoke.

Her face immediately took on a no-nonsense, grim expression. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside, poking her head outside and looking left and right before pulling the door shut behind her.

"Diego, go play," she said, attempting to pry the four-year-old from her legs. He just shook his head and buried himself deeper into the folds of her skirt, a mischievous smile curling his lips.

Bruno was still reeling from his sudden entrance into the home when she turned back to him. He flinched, and she clasped her hands in front of her.

"What's wrong with Lucía – what sort of trouble? Did you have a vision? Where is she?"

Bruno blinked. That was straight to the point. He reached over and attempted to subtly knock on the wooden doorframe. "No. No vision. I just - I mean - "

"Wait. Can he hear this?" She gestured to Diego.

He nodded and grasped a little salt and sugar from his pockets and tossed them over each of his shoulders for good measure. Sofia gave him a funny look but didn't say anything about it. "It's – Dolores. She overheard your sister by Señor Balard's fruit stand."

Sofia's expression was guarded. "Okay."

"Dolores, uh – she overheard Tatiana Valencia – and, um - " he sighed. "She's – uh – pretty angry at Lucía about – about some stories, and making some – ah - nasty accusations – in public - "

Sofia frowned and brought her hand to her mouth, her fingers tapping on her lips as she took in the information.

"I don't think they're true! At all! Just - " his shoulders slumped a bit, and he stared at his ruana, rubbing the edge between his fingers. "-I know – I know how she – Señora Valencia can be, I thought – you might – want to know. To help. Your hermana."

He glanced up at her, and Sofia had a soft, peculiar expression on her face. It shifted suddenly to grim determination, and she nodded. "I know how Señora Valencia can be, too. When she thinks she's been slighted - "

"-it's bad." Bruno agreed.

"I'll go see what I can do. I - " she went to take a step forward, and halted, a very clingy four year old having stopped her in her tracks. "Diego."

She looked at her son, and then looked at Bruno, tilting her head thoughtfully.

He gulped, backing toward the door.

"Bruno." Sofia said.

"Uh – yeah?"

"My other children are either at school or with their tíos and my husband at the blacksmith. They're shoeing Nero today – he's the big black stallion - and that is something that requires full concentration. I know Lucía trusts you, and Lord willing, I won't be gone long. Like I said, Lorenzo isn't far in case of emergency, but I wouldn't recommend distracting them while they're shoeing Nero or we'll need a whole host of arepas from Julieta." She stopped her rapid-fire speech to take a breath, tapping her finger to her chin and surveying the kitchen as she did so.

"Uh…"

"Diego is a good boy, he won't get into mischief, will you Diego? You'll be good for Don Bruno? Mamí will be back soon."

The little boy stepped backward, one had still grasping her skirt, and looked up at her, a scowl on his face. "I don't want you to go, Mamí."

"Uh - " Bruno held up a finger, but Sofia was not paying attention to him.

She smiled at Diego and squatted before him, pulling him into a full embrace and peppering his face with kisses. "I know, mi hombrecito, but I'll be back very soon and then you and I will enjoy a nice lunch together, eh? Tía Lucía needs a little help and Mamí is going to help her. You'll stay with Don Bruno. And you'll be good."

Diego let go of her skirt and stared at him, his thumb finding its way back into his mouth.

"Thank you Bruno, for coming to get me. I'll be back soon. Adiós."

Sofia was out the door before Bruno could protest. The little boy stood there, staring at Bruno as Bruno stared back. After a moment, Diego took his thumb out of his mouth and whispered "El Hombre Rata". (1)

Apparently Josefina had been telling stories to her little primo.

Bruno gave him a lopsided smile and a little wave. "Uh…hola?"

"Señora Madrigal -" Tatiana said beside Alma, as they watched Lucía walk away, still anxious about just how much the town matriarch had heard – or how much Dolores had told her.

Alma turned a stone-faced gaze on Tatiana, and the woman's lips puckered into a frown, as though she'd sucked a lemon. "Walk with me, Tatiana."

The younger woman warily slid her arm through Alma's and they began to walk, away from the papaya stand and away from the gaping stares of those who'd witnessed Tatiana's explosion. She'd gotten carried away and she knew it. She was usually much more careful than that, much more subtle in her insinuations and accusations. She preferred to wield her words like surgical blades, not sledgehammers – but she was always a little hot-tempered when it came to Juan. Her baby had suffered at Lucía's hands, and Lucía's calm apology and explanations in the face of her fury had only served to infuriate her further, and she'd slipped. She'd latched onto the one thought that was always at the back of her mind. Whenever tragedy (or any minor inconvenience) struck in the Encanto, she believed that – someway, somehow – if la familia Madrigal had been just a bit more diligent, a bit more generous, a bit more, period – it could have been prevented. And if they could have prevented it, then it stood to reason that it was their fault.

Not that she'd ever said that aloud in the presence of any member of the family, before. She was far too smart for that. And if she'd whispered her carefully constructed opinions into the ears of neighbors and family and friends in the guise of sympathy, the Dolores girl had never confronted her about it, had never given any indication that she knew.

Until now.

Alma nodded in greeting to others on the street as they walked. "I am aware you disapprove of the stories that Lucía read to the children on Saturday, Señora Valencia."

Tatiana visibly relaxed. "Those stories - "

" - are two classics," Alma interrupted. "Shall we also ban La Pobre Viejecita? Los Tres Cerditos? Cenicienta? Don't be foolish," she said firmly, as Tatiana opened her mouth again. "Such stories are good for the Encanto, are good for our community. We appreciated the polvorosas and the cards from the children this weekend, one of which came from your Juan. If you disagree with the opinion Lucía allowed the children to form, discuss it with him. You are his mamá, after all."

Tatiana nodded, pasting on a tense smile.

"And," Alma added, "let me be very clear, Tatiana Valencia. It was a collective decision to create that 'stupid schedule' for my family. We agreed on it - as a family - and the town elders agreed it was a wise decision as well. Lucía and her stories had nothing to do with it. The schedule was created before she ever read them. If you have a problem with it, you will address it at the next council meeting. Do you understand?"

Tatiana narrowed her eyes at the older woman, but gave a sharp nod. "I will - "

"Good. Now that we have concluded our discussion on these trivial matters, let us discuss your very serious accusations against my family."

Tatiana turned, eyes wide, but Alma kept a firm grip on her arm and sharp tone to her voice. "Now, I didn't quite catch it all, Señora, between leaving Dolores at the Casita and arriving in town. Please remind me – was it only Bruno and Isabela's fault that Alejandro Moreno died? Or did you cast blame on the entire family?"

Tatiana stared at her, open-mouthed, for all of ten seconds, before clamping her mouth tightly shut and looking away. She was not stupid. She was well aware that her place in town was nothing compared to the woman whose miracle founded and protected it. Tatiana craved a very precise amount and kind of power. She had no designs on taking Alma's, or any other elder's, place. She didn't want the workload. Her position in town was much less direct than that. She was the wife of a hard-working farmer and used that image to her advantage. Sure, she was known as a bit of a hot-head who was overprotective of her family, but that was understandable to most. She just wanted to be secure and comfortable and respected. (And God help anyone who got in the way of that.)

And so – she handed out plenty of favors with many strings attached, and listened carefully to gossip and collected information and used it sparingly and precisely to her advantage. She liked the respect and control it afforded her, but she'd gotten it indirectly, influencing others in town to get what she wanted. A certain extracurricular here, a certain event there, certain products available at certain times – nothing substantial, just things that made her and her family more comfortable. She'd never directly confronted a Madrigal before. The cursed one didn't count, he'd never had any real power or influence in the Encanto.

When she still hadn't answered, Alma continued evenly, "Nevermind, I'm sure I can find out."

"You would use your family's gifts against me?" Even as she said the words, her mind was spinning with the potential accusation and what she might be able to get from it. Sympathy was a powerful motivator.

Alma leveled a stern gaze at Tatiana, her lips pinched. "No. Your shouting was what drew mi nieta's attention in the first place. If it is not Dolores, Señor Balard and several other witnesses are sure to know exactly what it is you've accused us of."

Tatiana stopped walking, a calculating expression on her face as she looked at the town's most respected and feared elder. After a moment, her jaw tightened and her face became an impassive mask. "I apologize, Señora," she said, with little emotion. "I misspoke. I was – confused. About Señora Moreno's motivations in - "

"You were confused." Alma's voice trembled with rage. "I will explain to you then, ignorant child, what my familia went through when Señor Moreno died." She released Tatiana suddenly and whipped around to face her, thumb pinched to forefinger, her whole hand shaking with fury. "An eighteen year old Dolores gave herself migraines, straining to hear a man unconscious in the mountains. She wore herself out tramping in every direction through the jungle, searching for a heartbeat, a breath, a moan. And when she heard it – when she told us where he was – Luisa – at sixteen years old – had to help dig him out - " Alma's voice caught, guilt and grief colliding and overwhelming her.

"Imagine - " she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Imagine your son digging through rocks to find a man half-dead. It is not a pleasant thought, is it, Señora?"

Her eyes betrayed her feelings, and Tatiana swallowed.

"Julieta mourned for weeks after he died, guilty she was unable to help a man who couldn't eat her food. We all mourned. Everyone felt the burden of guilt in not being able to save him, or prevent the accident – but that does not mean I consider our family responsible for his death. It was a tragedy, for the entire town."

Tatiana opened her mouth.

"-And yet," Alma continued sharply, not allowing her room to get a single syllable in, "our grief was a fraction of what Señora Moreno went through. A fraction," she hissed. "You cannot begin to imagine the pain of losing your esposo, Tatiana Valencia, and I pray you never will."

Tatiana wisely shut her mouth again.

Alma smoothed the skirt of her dress and stepped back, raising her voice just enough for the few people walking by to stare. "I will speak very clearly, and very plainly, here in public, so that you are not confused again, Tatiana Valencia. If you have any accusations against the Madrigal family, bring them to the council instead of hatefully spewing them in the town square. It will be so embarrassing for you when they are dismissed as slander, and I wish to spare you that pain, little though you deserve that small mercy. And - if you find that you are unhappy with the council's decision about any of the matters we have discussed – you are free to leave."

She nodded to the woman and turned away.

"Leave?!" Tatiana hissed behind her, her heart dropping to her stomach.

Alma didn't bother to turn around again. She simply turned her head slightly, giving the woman a disdainful glance over her shoulder. "Leave," she repeated. "After all, if we truly are such a lazy, negligent family – why would you want to stay?"

Lucía wandered aimlessly down the street, forgetting entirely about the rest of her grocery list. After a moment, she tucked herself into an alley, away from stares and the mutterings of other people from town. Gossip spread like fire, after all, and Tatiana Valencia had given the Encanto enough fuel for the rest of the week and then some. She leaned against the wall, tilting her head back to rest against the stones, and took several deep breaths, feeling suddenly very claustrophobic and longing to be in one of the cornfields – hidden by the green stalks with the wide blue sky above her.

It wasn't the first time she'd dealt with a parent angry about some story she'd read or something that had been discussed during story time. Most parents, though, were simply concerned for their child's well-being, and after some discussion, both parties would come to an agreement on what was appropriate for the child in question. Lucía respected the parents' boundaries and would avoid certain stories when very young children were in attendance, or would discuss upcoming stories with those parents she knew to be sensitive beforehand. The village generally respected her abilities and trusted her intentions and she hadn't had a complaint of this magnitude in over ten years.

No, Lucía was not upset that Tatiana was offended by the message of the story. It was the fact that she had dragged Alejandro's death into it.

"Why would she - ?" Lucía muttered aloud, her basket dangling from one hand while the other clutched her heart. Her breath came in short, breathy gasps. "How could she think such - awful things, let alone say them out loud, for the whole town to hear? Poisonous, mean, vindictive - " she cut herself off and took another deep breath through her nose.

She sent up a silent prayer for peace, for understanding. "She was wrong. She was wrong. It's not their fault. It's no one's fault. It - " She choked, attempting to hold the thought at bay – the thought she had gagged and fought and beaten into submission since the day she buried her husband. A tear escaped and slid down her cheek.

Better a tear escape than the bitterness she felt surrounding the circumstances of Alejandro's death.

"Hey," a soft voice interrupted her whirling thoughts.

She startled and pressed herself more firmly against the wall.

Sofia hesitated at the entrance to the alley, and then, as Lucía recognized her hermana and relaxed, she slid to the side, allowing Sofia room beside her. Sofia leaned with her back to the wall next to her, her face soft and sympathetic. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

Lucía looked at her from the corner of her eye, discreetly brushing away the tear that had fallen and drawing in a ragged breath. She was terrified that news of her…confrontation with Tatiana had spread so fast already. "You're…sorry? How…how did you…?"

"Bruno."

"Bruno?!"

Sofia nodded and reached out to hold her sister's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Dolores overheard, and he came to me."

"He came to you?"

"Are you just going to repeat everything I say?"

Lucía stared at the ground, and Sofia wiggled their joined hands. "Hey," she said softly. "He was actually very concerned about you. I don't think he quite knew how to help, so he came and got me."

"What did Dolores hear?"

Sofia shrugged, and Lucía felt it in their joined hands. "Bruno just said that Tatiana was making some nasty accusations against you."

Lucía felt her sinuses tingle with an incoming of tears, and the lump in her throat grew. She gasped, trying to stifle them.

"Hey, hey!" Sofia chided. "It's okay, it was just a couple of stories! It was about the stories, right? Stories are the only even slightly controversial thing you've done…ever. You know how she is, she'll rant and rave and then get over it - "

"It's not - " Lucía struggled. "It wasn't – just – the stories." She sniffed and took a deep, shaky breath. "She accused la familia Madrigal of causing Alejandro's death. Or of – contributing to it? That – they failed me, and I was – I - " several more hot tears carved paths down her cheeks, and she shook her head.

Sofia went very still beside her. "She what?! Luci, how did she go from a couple stories to that?"

Lucía just shrugged, her nose starting to run, completely helpless in the deluge of emotion spilling from her eyes.

Sofia dropped her hand and pulled her close, squeezing Lucía tightly. In the process, she bumped Lucía's basket, and a papaya on top fell to the ground. Lucía took one look at it and began crying harder.

"Lo siento, lo siento! I'll get you a new papaya! Luci -"

"It's not about the papaya!"

Sofia hugged her sister tighter, and after a moment, she pulled away. "Let's get you out of this alley and back to my house, okay? It's closer. And then we can talk."

Lucía nodded and rubbed her tears away as her sister took her hand and led her away. She felt helpless and small and angry and nothing like the forty-one year old woman she was supposed to be.

Sofia flung open the barn doors, knowing Lucía needed a close, quiet, private place to talk that wouldn't involve little ears. She hoped Bruno was doing all right with Diego.

"Here, sit, sit," Sofia crooned softly, lowering her hermana to the straw-strewn floor.

"Sofia? What's going on?"

Sofia looked up to see her husband closing the door on Nero's stall. The black horse looked exhausted, and Lorenzo spoke softly to him and patted his nose. Nero jerked away and sulked in the corner of his stall. The rest of the animals, if not working today, would be out to pasture, but Nero always needed a little downtime after a nail trim and shoeing.

"You're home already?" Sofia asked incredulously. It usually took half the day to re-shoe Nero, and it was only ten in the morning.

"Good morning, how are you, my my, you've improved your ability to shoe our most spookable horse, how marvelous! I love you too," Lorenzo teased, and then, at the frown on his wife's face, took in his sister-in-law sitting on the ground. Her knees were drawn up and her forehead rested on them, and she didn't look up to greet him. He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Out, out, out - please, mi amor." Sofia gently steered her husband toward the barn door. "Lucía is in need of a little sister time."

"In the barn?"

"We'll only be a few minutes."

He turned, just outside the door, and leaned in to his wife, his voice no longer teasing. "Last time you said a few minutes it took two hours, mi querida. Is she going to be alright?"

Sofia rolled her eyes and kept her voice low as she pushed the doors closed, leaving them open only a bit. She peered out at her husband. "Last time I said something would take a few minutes we were getting ready for the celebration at the Casa Madrigal. Completely different scenarios, mi amor. And after a good heart to heart she will be fine. I hope. Now shoo. Bruno is watching Diego in the house. You can go get your son and offer Bruno some coffee and send the nice man home." She pulled her head inside the crack between the doors, and then thought of something else and poked it out again. "Where are Mateo and Miguel?"

"With mi hermano. Nero's hoof trim and shoeing went much faster than normal, and he wanted them to practice trimming hooves with the donkeys."

"Ah, good. Gracias." Sofia pulled her head back in and turned away.

Lorenzo shook his head good-naturedly. "All right, all right. I'm leaving. Take all the time you need. Te amo, mi cariño." He called to the barn door as it closed.

It cracked open a hair. "Hasta luego, mi querido. Te amo." (2)

Lorenzo chuckled as he turned away to rescue Bruno Madrigal from the clutches of his most difficult child.

Lucía was only vaguely aware that Sofia lit the lamp closest to them. It was morning, but still dark inside the barn without the doors open. She heard Sofia sit down beside her and felt her gently brush her shoulder against Lucía's.

"Tell me about it, mi amor."

Lucía stayed where she was for a moment before lifting her head, rubbing her face, and then leaning back to rest her head on the wall of the barn. She closed her eyes, her face hot and swollen, both from crying and from the effort of trying not to.

She was silent for a moment, and then managed to croak out everything that had happened – from story time on Saturday through every single word she remembered spoken between herself and Tatiana Valencia, and how Señora Madrigal intervened.

Sofia was silent for a long moment afterward, and then slowly let out a string of soft curses.

Lucía couldn't bring herself to argue with the sentiment.

"I don't blame them," Lucía whispered after a moment. "You know I've never blamed them, Sofi."

Sofia nodded. "I know."

"It's not their fault."

"It's not."

"It was an accident."

"It was." Sofia agreed.

"It's no – it's no one's fault."

Sofia nodded.

Lucía balled her fists in her lap. "Then why am I so angry about everything?" A low, keening groan escaped her, and she felt the familiar, mournful bitterness well up just below her heart.

"Are you angry at the Madrigals?"

"No!"

"Not with Pepa?" Sofia asked, gauging her reaction.

Lucía glared at her sister.

"Not with Dolores?"

"She was still a child!"

"Not even with Bruno?" She asked cautiously.

Lucía turned to her sister, a hurt fury in her eyes. "Don't you dare! It is not their fault, it's not Bruno's fault, it's no one's fault but - " she cut herself off, her face feverish and her mouth trembling.

"But what?" Sofia prompted softly. "But – whose?"

Lucía clenched her jaw and shook her head sharply.

"Alejandro - he was a good man." Sofia said gently. "But - "

"But nothing. We should not speak ill of the dead," Lucía interrupted sharply. We do not speak ill of the dead we do not speak ill of the dead we do not speak -

Sofia let out a long-suffering sigh and took one of Lucía's hands. "Lucía, mi querida, mi amor - you have not said one negative word about Alejandro since his death. When he lived, you were never afraid to confront his faults and help him be a better man. Do you think when he died all of his past actions suddenly became perfect?"

"No – but - "

"Then just let it out!"

"He didn't put us first!" Lucía cried out and then, horrified, covered her mouth with her hands.

Sofia turned to her, eyes wide, and nodded in encouragement.

Hot tears spilled over Lucía's cheeks. Her heart hammered with guilt and shame and anger and sweet relief at finally admitting that her grief was more than just grief – it was multi-faceted and messy and – in her eyes - ugly.

"He – he loved us, I know he did! We were – important to him – but not – not always the most important. He put his art first. He put his art first and I'm so – I – I - " She pressed her head to her knees again, pressing her skirt to her mouth to stifle a scream of pain and frustration.

Nero knickered nervously in his stall and Lucía cut herself off, breathing in short gasps.

Sofia rubbed her back.

"I want – Josefina – to know the best of him. I want her to – know – how – beautiful he was, how – special he was. But – I – every time – she grows, or she does something like him – and he's not here to see it – and it's all because he was so stubborn about his art."

"He painted that murales, and he was obsessed! It was all he could think about, all he could plan. I knew – I knew it meant so much to him, and I - I didn't confront him then, Sofi, but I should have. I let him obsess. He ignored me, he ignored Josefina, for days at a time! You know, Sofi, he was never cruel about it, but he – he would brush by with a kiss and a pat and barely a word! And when Josefina was sick, and I was worried – he just – he just blew me off – 'whatever you think, mi amor, you're a great madre'. I wanted his opinion, his support! I knew Julieta would help, but still…and then - he finished it, and people liked it, I liked it – Papá was proud of him - and – and – I asked him to take a break, to stay with us."

She put her face in her hands, and her voice became muffled. "I asked him not to leave the Encanto right then to get more paints, to wait until the next group went over the mountains. To take a break. And he agreed, but then he went off into the jungle on his own, and there was the rockslide, and he died, and he left us – and for what?! For a handful of berries and some flowers?! We weren't worth more than berries and flowers?!"

Sofia sat beside her hermana, tears streaming down her face as she wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She let her sister cry, and when Lucía turned her face to the side to see her, Sofia brushed a stray hair from her eyes.

"He made a mistake, querida, and it cost him everything. He didn't knowingly trade you away for painting supplies." Her words were soft and sad and true, and Lucía knew it.

Lucía sighed, her eyes focused on something far away. "It's both of our faults that Josefina doesn't have a Papá."

"No," Sofia said softly. "That's not true."

"I loved him so much. I loved him! And I miss him, and I wish he was still here. He left me. He left me! I'm still mad at him for leaving. And mad at myself for asking him to stay. If I'd let him go, he might still be here." The soft-spoken confession brought a fresh round of tears to her eyes, and she let them slip out without wiping them away.

"That's okay, cariño. I don't think either of you were at fault, but it's good for you to say what you feel. It's not good to let those thoughts stay locked up inside you. I'm proud of you for telling me all this."

Lucía blinked slowly.

"It's okay to remember both the good and the bad about someone. It makes them real, and helps us not to turn them into something they were not – not to hold on too tightly."

Do not hold on too tightly. "You don't want me to - do you think – I'm smothering Josefina to make up for - ?"

Sofia shook her head, giving her sister a tentative smile. "You do a great job with Josefina. I'll let you know if you start messing her up, don't worry." She teased, and then her eyes softened. "I don't want you to smother yourself."

Sofia wrapped her sister in a hug again, and then held her at arm's length, giving her an appraising look.

Lucía smiled at her. Her sister had given her a lot to think about – and had absolved her of the worst of her guilt, the guilt she'd felt for so long, for feeling more than just sadness when missing Alejandro. She did feel a lot better, now. Tired, but free. "When did you get so good at this?"

Sofia fanned her face with her hand, a teasing expression on her face. "Well I did learn from the best. You and Papá helped me so much when - when Mamá died." She smiled warmly at her sister, and then her expression turned mischievous again and she bumped Lucía with her shoulder. "You know, I think Tatiana would be very pleased to know how her words helped bring about this successful therapy session."

Lucía wiped her tear-worn eyes and gave her sister a half-hearted glare. "Not funny."

"Oh, no, I'm very serious." Sofia schooled her expression into something very solemn. "She's got some sort of skill. Maybe I can convince her to go into business with me. She claws at old wounds, I clean them up with my – unparalleled wisdom and compassion - "

Lucía scoffed. "Stop it."

"Okay, okay," Sofia sighed. "But in all seriousness, one person you should thank is Bruno. He's the one who came and got me."

Lucía lips wavered up into a half-hearted smile. "He's a good friend. A good man."

Sofia nodded, and pulled her to her feet.

"Let's go see about some coffee, and if Lorenzo has managed to clean up after Bruno."

Lucía gave her a look.

"He's a good man, but I don't expect him to be able to contain the little tornado that is Diego."

"You left him with Diego?!"

When Lucía and Sofia entered la Casa Rojas, the first thing they noticed was all the salt. Or sugar? Their shoes crunched as they stepped in the door.

Lorenzo looked up from where he was steadily sweeping the granules on the floor into a pile. Bruno sat at the table with Diego, who was sitting on the man's knees in order to reach the table. Bruno had a half-finished cup of coffee in front of him and was using a fork and a spoon to tell some sort of story, and Diego had a look of approval on his face. His thumb was back in his mouth, but he was smiling around it.

"Qué es esto? What is all this, then?" Sofia clucked as she walked in, but there was a smile on her face. She crossed the floor to give Lorenzo a kiss on the cheek, tousling his auburn hair and then standing with her hands on her hips to survey the kitchen floor.

Bruno looked up as soon as they walked in and attempted to stand, but Diego anticipated his movement and purposely leaned backward to prevent him from rising. Bruno grimaced but shifted the boy's weight on his knees and looked between Sofia and Lucía, a question in his eyes.

"Gracias, Bruno," Lucía said softly.

"Yes, gracias, Bruno," Sofia said, staring at her floors. "I appreciate you watching Diego. What happened?"

Bruno ducked his head sheepishly. "Sorry! Sorry. It just happened, before – before Lorenzo walked in. I guess – I guess he – Diego - saw me – um – throw the salt and sugar over my shoulders, earlier, and I guess – he thought it would be – fun? I did stop him, I only turned my back for a second, he said he wanted to color - "

Sofia stepped forward and crouched beside Bruno. "Diego," she said sternly, to the little boy in his lap. "Did you throw salt all over the floor?"

The boy took his thumb out of his mouth and nodded proudly. " 'S good luck."

Sofia raised an eyebrow at him, and then directed her skeptical look over his head toward Bruno. "Is it, now?"

Bruno gave her an awkward smile, tugged the collar of his shirt, and rapped his knuckles on the wooden table.

"Well, it is very lucky," she said, unimpressed. "Lucky we have a broom and dustpan for you to help your Papí clean up, eh?"

Diego's eyes got big and sad.

"Oh, no, mijo. You used up all your luck, earlier. Time to clean, now. Let's see how lucky it is for you to throw salt all over the floor."

She gently tugged Diego off of Bruno's knees and Lorenzo was waiting to hand him the smaller brush broom and dustpan. The little boy sighed but crouched down and began the tedious work of sweeping the pile his father had made into the dustpan. Lorenzo moved away from that pile and began on another one.

Bruno couldn't quite meet her eyes. "Sorry," he muttered. "I – I can help - "

"Hey," Sofia said softly, gently using his shoulder and the table to help hoist herself up from her squat, and then patting his shoulder gently. "You already helped, today. You come to mi hermana's rescue, you can throw a little salt any day. You understand, Diego?" She said, calling to her youngest. "Don Bruno might throw salt, but we do not."

Diego sighed, still concentrating on the salt pile. "Like Juancho gets coffee all day an' we only get one cup?"

"Exactly."

Bruno and Lucía left Sofia and Lorenzo with Diego after they each had a cup of coffee.

They walked together past the stables and paused at the road – one direction leading back to the Casa Madrigal, the other to town. "Gracias, Bruno," Lucía said again. Neither one of them had said much while they were all drinking coffee. They'd just listened to the friendly, comfortable bickering and teasing between Sofia and Lorenzo.

"Oh – it's – you're welcome. I just – wanted – to help."

"Bruno - " she said softly. "How much did you hear?"

Bruno tensed. "Only what Dolores told us – told me and - and Ma. About the story, the Madrigals, laziness, you know..." His voice trailed off into a whisper.

Lucía closed her eyes again, tapping one fingernail nervously on her basket.

"Do - you want to talk about it?" He offered.

She shook her head. She needed more time to collect herself before she talked about what had just happened with everyone else. Hopefully she'd have enough time to collect herself before dinner with the Madrigals tonight.

He waited in silence for a few moments, and then spoke again. "I'm – sorry."

Her smile this time was small, but genuine. "Thank you. For checking up on me." She took a deep breath. "I'd better finish my shopping." She pushed herself away from the wall of the barn, and he followed suit. She paused and fiddled with the basket in her hands.

"Are - you going to be okay?" He asked uncertainly, rubbing his arm. "Would – company help? I mean, I know it might – look weird, being seen with me, after – that. But if – if you want company – or if you want to be alone – that's fine. It's all fine. Whatever you need is – fine."

She paused, contemplating the offer. Her emotion-fatigued brain attempted to work out what people might think if they saw Bruno walking with her after her confrontation with Tatiana, and she realized she didn't care. If anything, it would add credibility to her statement that she did not blame the Madrigal family – and that she especially did not blame Bruno – for Alejandro's death.

Honestly, it was a little strange having someone check on her immediately after something like that. Usually, it took Papá or Sofia or one of Lucía's few friends a few hours to hear about anything like that and seek her out, or a few hours for her to be ready to seek them out. Being friends with Bruno and his magical family made things…different.

She looked at him, head down and fiddling with his ruana, and something warm and grateful bloomed in her chest at his quiet way of offering support. She almost preferred it to Alma's interruption. Actually – while she appreciated Alma's help and concern, the summons to dinner had her feeling a whole lot of emotions, and they weren't all grateful ones. She was nervous about it. She definitely preferred Bruno's quiet, behind the scenes actions and his kind concern. Getting Sofia was the nicest thing he could have done for her, and she appreciated it more than she could say just then.

While she would need some time to collect her thoughts before dinner tonight, she'd prefer to do that in the privacy of her own home, not while walking through town. And if she had a friend with her on the walk, it might keep her mind from spinning quite so much.

"Okay," she said. "Let's go. But only if you want to. I'll be okay on my own, but I wouldn't mind the company, either."

They walked in silence for a few moments, and then Lucía spoke again. "Tell me – is Señora Rata still causing mischief, or has she calmed down now that she's gotten her beloved scrap of leather?"

Bruno laughed nervously. "She's – she's much better behaved. For now."

By the time they were done buying the cheese and eggs and Bruno had escorted her home, she was laughing. He'd updated her fully on his family's happenings this past week. He'd told her the new schedule was working out well (minus a few complaints from villagers like Tatiana). He told her of Isabela's enthusiasm for her new plants and her ideas on revolutionizing the clothes dyeing process in the Encanto – of Luisa's desire to play and dance and read and her ability to devour entire books in one sitting – and of Mirabel's consistent kindness and enthusiasm for everyone in the family. He explained how Dolores was half-heartedly trying to sew, but finding she daydreamed too much about her new novio to get much done. And he told of Mirabel and Camilo's newfound interest in the modern technology outside of the Encanto, and Felix's encouragement that his son find anything outside of his pranks as a new hobby.

Lucía laughed at Camilo's latest prank – involving one of Bruno's rats and Isabela's pollen dye and a whole lot of itty bitty paw prints – and linked her arm through his, giving it a squeeze before pulling away. They stood just outside the entrance to the courtyard of her home.

"Thank you, Bruno." She smiled at him, and it reached her eyes, though her eyes were still tired and sad.

"Well, uh – yeah. You're welcome. I mean – that's – what friends do, right?" He scratched the back of his neck and shrugged it off, attempting to play it cool. He was secretly so relieved he'd gotten this right, today.

"Absolutely. You ever need an undercover rescue mission or just an escort through town, I'm your girl."

"Right." He said, after a slight pause. "Right. See – uh – see you at dinner, tonight?"

Lucía nodded. "See you at dinner."

A/N:

1) El Hombre Rata – The Rat Man

2) Hasta luego, mi querido. Te amo – See you later, my darling. I love you.

Hooooo boy so there you go. I just want to say thank you, again, for your support and follows and favs and reviews. Seriously, they encourage me and motivate me so much and I truly appreciate them. You're all amazing.

Just a heads up – next week's chapter will be on the dinner with the Madrigals, and then I will be taking a break for one week while my family and I go on vacation. Yay for Spring Break! I need some sun!

If you need something to read in the meantime, "A Third Chance" by Starfang's Secrets and "Power Shuffle Playlist" by Atarah Derekh are both great Encanto reads.

God bless you all and have a great week!