16. Chapter 16

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

Welcome back! In case you missed it, I did post Chapter 15 yesterday. Please read that before this one or you'll be confused.

Chapter 16

It was gone.

Lucía had only noticed because they were finishing the whitewash as she approached. They had repaired half of the wall with mortar, where the crack had caused Bruno, Julieta, and most of Isabela, Luisa, and Mirabel to crumble. Traces of Pepa's side of the family on the remaining half of the murales were still slightly visible underneath the white paint, as though seen through layers of guaze.

She hadn't connected the dots, at first. Many people were slowly repairing any cosmetic damage done to their homes and businesses from the earthquake that occurred during Casita's collapse. A few weeks ago she and Papá had fixed the remainder of the tiles that had fallen from the print shop roof. Seeing a small group working on a damaged wall was nothing out of the ordinary.

And then it clicked.

It was the wall the murales had been painted on, and the murales was gone.

All the mornings spent passing Alejandro chalk and paint, all the afternoons spent coaxing him to take a break to eat and drink, all the talks and plans and knowing smiles and his looks of gratitude for her support – all the evidence of what they'd done together - it was gone.

His greatest life's work disappeared without warning in less than a day.

She realized she'd stopped walking when she felt Josefina tugging on her hand. "Mamá?" She asked, and followed her gaze to the wall of Señora Díaz's shop.

"Mamá!" She cried. "Papá's murales!" Her little face twisted into such a look of shock and despair that Lucía promptly pushed her own feelings on the matter to the side.

Just before returning to the council meeting, Mirabel turned toward Casita and spoke. She wanted Dolores to warn Tío Bruno about the turn the evening had taken, and hoped that Dolores would focus in on her voice.

"Dolores. Dolores. Doloooooores. Prima. It's Mirabel. And Dolores – I need you to tell Tío Bruno that I think his vision might be happening tonight. If he wants to help his friend, he needs to find that bench. Please tell him."

She repeated her message once more, and then nodded at her Abuela. It was time to return to the meeting.

"Tío Bruno!"

Dolores burst into Bruno's room, eyes wide – and for a second time that day, Bruno almost had a heart attack.

"Dolores!" He yelped, putting a hand to his heart. "What is it with you chicas and your dramatic entrances?!"

"Mirabel called to me from the meeting, Tío. She said that your vision is happening tonight and if you want to help your friend, you need to find that bench."

"What?"

Dolores bit her lip and tilted her head. "I can go out to the courtyard and listen for her, if you want me to."

Bruno narrowed his eyes at her. "You heard us? Me and Mirabel? Earlier?"

Dolores narrowed her eyes in return and threw her hands up. "It's a gift."

"I thought you could focus it now."

"I can. But mi tío using his vision cave for the first time with mi prima to help his friend -" She didn't actually use her fingers, but he could hear the air quotes around the word 'friend'. " – caught my attention and caught me off guard, and I figured if it was okay for Mirabel to hear, it was okay for me to hear."

It was official. He was doomed, in the teasing department.

Bruno sighed and stood, his stomach twisting in his gut. "Okay. Tell me where she is."

Alma and Mirabel returned to the council meeting, arm in arm, chins lifted high. Alma's face was serene and Mirabel's brows were drawn, just a bit, as she darted a look toward Tatiana Valencia. Their expressions betrayed nothing of the discussion they'd just had.

"I apologize for interrupting the meeting," Mirabel said quietly. "I was worried, for a friend."

Tatiana Valencia's smile faltered slightly but she caught herself and fluttered her eyes in concern. "Oh, I hope they are alright."

"I'm sure she will be," Alma said dryly. "We will be there for her. She has proven herself to be a true friend to the family."

Tatiana dropped her gaze and shifted on her feet.

"Now. Back to council matters. You have agreed to cover the cost of repair to Señora Díaz' walls. That was very generous. You have also agreed to finance the painting of a new murales, since in repairing said walls, the murales has been completely covered. Is that correct?"

"That is correct."

"Gracias. You have been very conscientious of Señora Díaz and her needs. Now, Señora Villanueva," Alma said, turning to another woman on the council, "Please remind me of the process by which we alter public works of art in the Encanto?"

Señora Villanueva adjusted her glasses and rifled through the papers in front of her. An older woman with a crown of silver-grey hair, dark skin, and a penchant for bright colors, she owned the best fabric store in town, and it was meticulously organized. Walking into her shop was like walking into a rainbow. Her talent for organization made her a perfect secretary for the Council. "Section Seven, Part Three of the Encanto's Articles of Governance states that before any major changes may occur to works or objects belonging to the public – the People of the Encanto as a whole – the changes must be presented and approved by both the Council and the owner of the property on which the work or object sits, in addition to the person(s) responsible for said work or object."

"Gracias, Señora Villanueva. Señora Valencia, you've obviously spoken with Señora Díaz. Although you should have consulted the Council for approval before altering any part of the murales, you technically have not attempted to change the murales by painting it; you have repaired the wall it was painted on, and it needed repair because of extenuating circumstances, so we will waive that requirement. What is done is done and there is no changing it now. Have you discussed the removal and replacement of the artwork with the former artist?"

Tatiana blinked.

Alma waited.

Tatiana shifted. "Señora Madrigal..."

"Yes, Señora Valencia?"

"The murales…"

"…was a work of art commissioned by the village. Señora Díaz was generous to allow the use of her building for the murales, but the moment the murales was painted on it, it became a public work of art. Señora Díaz may own the building, but the artwork belonged to the entirety of the Encanto. And as Señora Villanueva informed us, the changes must be approved by the persons responsible for said work or object."

Señora Valencia frowned. "Surely you are well aware that it would be impossible to consult Señor Moreno."

Señora Madrigal pursed her lips. "You are correct. It certainly would be. Have you spoken with Señor Moreno's surviving family members, to forewarn them of its removal and replacement?"

"…No."

"Were you planning on honoring Señor Moreno for his contribution to the village by being respectful of his work? Did you preserve any part of the murales?"

Señora Valencia looked as though she'd been slapped in the face with a fish. "Preserve? – I – did not. The – they – said it was a loss. It was half gone!"

"And now it is entirely gone." Alma said. "La Familia Madrigal is grateful for your attempt at reconciliation. We will accept your apology, Señora Valencia, on the condition that you will make every attempt to apologize and reconcile with Señora Moreno as well, as she was also an injured party in the first incident and now has been further injured by your lack of foresight."

"But it was her fault!" Tatiana seethed.

"What was her fault?" Another member of the council, Señor Ruiz - a retired school teacher - asked tiredly, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

"She's the reason I have to make amends in the first place! She read - "

Señor Ruiz held up his hand. "Are you suggesting that Señora Moreno is to blame for you losing your temper in public and saying, as you admitted earlier, things that were 'untrue and unfair'?"

Señora Valencia pinched her lips tightly shut. "She read - "

"We have already determined that the stories she reads, at her free story time, are her perogative. She was not to blame for your loosing your temper. You are in control of your own actions, Señora. We have also already addressed your concerns about the schedule for the Madrigal family and have adjusted it slightly to alleviate those concerns. Now, Señora Madrigal has graciously accepted your apology and efforts to make amends, simply pointing out that you have another apology to make, and in fact may have made that apology more difficult through your current actions. If you are going to rehash old arguments in an attempt to gain favor – though I have no idea whose favor you are currently attempting to win - you are only wasting your time. And ours as well."

Señor Ruiz looked around the table. "Motion to bar mention of Señora Moreno's story time, La Gente Mono, and anything pertaining to children's stories at Council Meetings for one month in an attempt to get this council back on track."

"I second that motion!" Another council member piped up.

The vote was taken and it passed unanimously.

Señora Villanueva addressed the woman as she made several notes on the paper before her. "Señora Valencia, per your offer, you are now responsible for the cost of replacing the murales on Señora Díaz' wall, and the council will be monitoring its progress. You will be expected to work with la familia Madrigal and gain their approval before a single brush touches that wall, and you are expected to offer restitution to la familia Moreno for the loss of their art - "

"How am I supposed to do that?!" Tatiana sputtered.

Señora Villanueva looked at Tatiana over her glasses. "You're obviously a very clever woman, to have thought of this brilliant plan to make amends to the Madrigal family, Señora Valencia. I'm sure you will think of something. The art is expected to be complete by La Feria de Las Flores. Now - next petition, Andrea Balard - "

Mirabel was surprised and quite relieved that the council had put Señora Valencia in her place in a way that was perhaps not as satisfactory as the way Abuela had previously, but was just as effective. Abuela had been right. Sometimes, as a town leader, she had to allow the council to do its job instead of taking things into her own hands.

Tatiana returned to her seat, having eaten humble pie for the second time that year and not particularly appreciating the taste.

Bruno wrung his hands as he walked, looking left and right as he approached the street that held – or had once held – the murales of his family.

He spotted her.

Just like in his vision, she sat on a bench.

No – not just like his vision.

Josefina sat beside her, leaning into her mother's arm, her face turned toward her mother's side. Josefina clutched some sort of stuffed animal in her free arm. Bruno couldn't see her face. Lucía's head was bent, talking to her. She caressed Josefina's face with her free hand, brushing her cheek with her thumb.

His steps slowed. This was – this was not how his vision went. He glanced at the wall opposite them, and sure enough – the murales had been covered – the wall repaired, mortared, and covered with white paint. Some of the previous murales could still be seen beneath, but it was clearly gone.

But Lucía was not alone.

It confused him. His vision had been particularly clear. Murales – disappearing. Lucía – devastated. Bruno – holding her hand. Lucía – okay.

The murales was gone, but Lucía was not alone, and she was not devastated. He was frozen in confusion, until Lucía looked up and noticed him staring. Swallowing, he approached them.

It might not be his vision, but the two of them were still upset, and he still wanted to help.

For once, Josefina did not jump up immediately to greet him. She kept her head down, pressed against her mother's side.

Bruno tentatively walked up to them and sat beside Lucía, making sure to give them enough room, not to encroach on her space. She turned to him and gave him a sad smile, but she didn't look – she didn't look devastated, not like she had in his vision. Something wasn't right. Not that he wanted her to look devastated, but this was confusing him.

Was this not his vision? Had they – had he and Mirabel been wrong? Those images had been connected somehow, but apparently not in the way they had thought.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," she replied. "Josefina, look who's here." She softly nudged her daughter with her arm.

Josefina responded by whimpering and burying her head further into her mother's side.

Lucía sighed. "She's – well – we're both – feeling - " she nodded toward the blank wall opposite them, just a little ways down the street from where they sat. "It's – a shock that it's just – gone."

Josefina sniffed.

Lucía wrapped her arm more tightly around her daughter and rubbed her arm gently. After a moment, she leaned her head back against the wall the bench sat against and closed her eyes, one arm around her daughter, her other hand splayed out beside her on the bench.

Bruno swallowed. It might not be his vision, but he still wanted to comfort her. He tentatively put his hand over hers, channeling that part of him that was most like Julieta. He could do this.

Her lashes fluttered but her eyes did not open, and after a moment, she flipped her hand over and threaded her fingers through his, pressing her palm against his.

He didn't know what to say, and so he didn't say anything.

They sat there, on the bench in town across from the former murales, hand in hand, watching the shadows grow longer as the sun set behind them.

After a while, Lucía attempted to gently pry Josefina from her hiding place at her side, murmuring quiet words of comfort and encouragement, and was unsuccessful. Bruno pulled himself away from Lucía, giving her hand an awkward pat before standing up and moving to stand in front of Josefina. He crouched down, just a bit, intending to offer her some words of comfort. The little girl sighed, and both the exhale and the following inhale were broken by little gasps and sniffles.

It made Bruno's heart hurt.

"Hey, niña," he said softly. "Do you need a handkerchief?" He patted his pockets in an attempt to find one, but her little hand had already darted out and grabbed hold of his ruana.

She'd apparently mistaken it for that handkerchief and rubbed her face in it, blowing her nose loudly. Twice.

Bruno froze as he stared down at her, and Lucía froze with him.

"Hola, Don Bruno," Josefina mumbled softly. She pulled away from his ruana and her cheeks had tear-stains on them. She reminded him of Mirabel at five years old when her door disappeared, and he had the strongest urge to wipe her tears away.

"Hola, Josefina," he said softly.

Her brow puckered and she stared at the fabric bunched in her hands, and then her eyes widened as they traveled up his ruana to his face and she realized what she'd done. "Lo – lo siento!" She gasped.

"It's okay," he hastened to reassure her. "It's okay, it's just - "

"Disgusting!" Josefina squeaked, peeking at what was on his ruana in her hands and then looking up at him again with big eyes. "It's so gross! You can't wear this!" Her eyes filled with tears. "It's your favorite and now you can't wear it - "

"It's really okay, I can wear it - " he tugged on it gently, attempting to get her to let go.

She gripped it with a strength he didn't know was possible. "No you can't! You can't until you wash it again and it's not okay and I'm sorry - "

She looked like she was about to cry again, and he panicked. "Well, then, I'll just take it off so I can wash it as soon as I get home."

He tugged it over his head and dropped it haphazardly onto Josefina, who was still clutching it. The fabric caught on her head and pooled around her, and all he could see was a green mess of cloth with two legs sticking out from the bench seat. "See? I'm okay without it. I'm okay! It's okay!"

(Truth be told, he felt uncomfortable without it, but he wouldn't let her see that.)

Josefina was very still under his ruana, and then the pile of cloth asked in a small voice. "Will Hernando be okay?"

Bruno squatted in front of Josefina, darting a gaze to Lucía. Her lips were parted in an inscrutable expression but she quickly blinked and offered him an encouraging smile.

"Hernando hasn't gone anywhere. Would you like to talk to him?" He said.

The pile nodded, and the fabric shifted so that he could see half of Josefina's face.

He took a step back, took a deep breath, and spun on his heel a full three-hundred-sixty degrees. He stopped himself before her, straightened his shoulders, and puffed up his chest.

"Ay, it is I, Hernando de la Roya – Confronter of Danger, Patcher of Cracks, Traveler, Adventurer, Hero."

"Hola, Hernando." She squeaked, still mostly hidden by his ruana.

"Ah! What is this?!" He pretended to unsheathe an imaginary sword from his hip, and swung it before him. "What fiend has swallowed whole an innocent child?! Prepare for your end, foul beast!"

He took a menacing step forward, and Josefina quickly pulled the ruana away from her face. "No, Hernando!" She cried. "It's not a beast. It's me!"

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Señorita Josefina! So it seems. But how do I know it is really you, fair Josefina? And not some trick by the beast to devour me as well?"

Josefina blinked, and a smile broke out on her face. "Br- I mean – Hernando, it's me! And your ruana!"

"Not a beast – but a thief, then!" He brandished his imaginary sword with fervor. "No one steals from the great Hernando de la Roya!"

She shrieked and scrambled to her feet. "You gave it to me!"

"Not I!" Bruno darted another gaze at Lucía, and she was watching the two of them with a strange smile on her face.

"Yes you!" Josefina squeaked.

"No! T'was the Madrigal fellow who did it! And without my permission at that!" He lunged for her, allowing her to brush past him and around to the other side of the bench. There wasn't quite enough room for her to fit between the bench and the wall, but she attempted to squeeze herself in.

"Please, sir, spare my daughter!" Lucía threw herself dramatically sideways off of the bench, before Josefina. "It was but a gift, she did not steal it!"

Josefina poked her head out "Yeah, I only blew my nose in it! And wiped my face on it!"

Bruno-as-Hernando stepped back, a stern look on his face. "Hernando does not fear the mucus of small children. Hernando fears nothing."

"But it's really yucky."

"I'm not afraid."

"You'll have to wash it."

"Hernando does not fear the dirt, and neither does he fear the bath. It shall be cleansed."

Josefina giggled.

"Very well." He returned his imaginary sword to its scabbard. "You shall be spared. Hand the ruana to your mother, fair child, and retrieve your jaguar from the bench."

"It's not my jaguar."

"What?!" Bruno-as-Hernando roared in mock outrage. "More thievery?!"

"Nooooo!" Josefina laughed. "Antonio left it at my house. We were bringing it back."

"Ah! A quest of honor then, to return a lost object to its rightful place! Come then, Señorita Josefina. I will be your escort through the forbidden forests and dangerous lands you must traverse in order to complete your quest." Bruno-as-Hernando bowed with a little flourish.

Josefina giggled again. "We're almost there. And it's not dangerous."

"What?! Do not confuse bravery for foolishness, niña! True bravery lies in acknowledging the danger, not in pretending there is none!" Bruno-as-Hernando lifted his chin knowingly.

"What's dangerous about walking two streets and across a bridge to get to Casita?"

He leaned forward. "It's not just two streets and a bridge," he whispered.

"No?"

He leaned back, spreading his arms wide. "The bridge is old and decrepit, and spans not a creek but a rushing river. Who knows what manner of mystical beings lie in its depth?"

"And," Lucía added, her voice becoming low, "the streets are filled with shadows. Who knows what monsters lurk within them?"

Josefina scowled. "Yeah. And one of them disappeared my Papá's murales."

Lucía and Bruno's eyes met over her head.

Bruno-as-Hernando crouched in front of Josefina, some - but not all - of the bluster leaving his voice. "I am sorry, Josefina, about your papá's murales. It is hard to lose something important to you."

"Are you afraid of losing things, Hernando?"

Bruno gave her a lopsided smile, and glanced desperately at Lucía.

"Losing things is hard, Josefina," Lucía began softly.

"It is," he agreed, his voice firm but gentle. "And losing people is harder. Hernando - Hernando is not afraid of hard things, but that does not mean he is not saddened by them. Of all the hard things, losing someone you love is the hardest."

"And losing the murales, querida – it felt like - losing a piece of your Papá, didn't it?" Lucía continued.

Josefina nodded. "It's not fair," she said in small, hard voice. "They didn't even tell us."

"It is not fair," Bruno-as-Hernando agreed. "However you feel about it, it is okay to feel that way. Just do not let those feelings dictate how you live, cariño."

"We don't know, yet, why the murales was covered," said Lucía, placing a hand on Josefina's shoulder. "It is okay to feel angry about it, it is okay to feel sad about it – like – ah - Hernando said. But we shouldn't start calling the people who covered it monsters. I don't - I don't think they intentionally did it to hurt us."

Josefina thought about that for a minute, and then lifted her chin. "Okay. I will be angry and sad and brave. Like Hernando. Gracias."

"Yes. Gracias – Hernando," Lucía said, meeting his eyes and looking straight through Hernando's bluster and into Bruno's heart.

He kept her gaze for a moment, until he shook himself from his stupor. "Uh – de nada, de nada. And now - never fear, my fair ladies," Bruno-as-Hernando swaggered. "You have the protection of the great Hernando de la Roya for the remainder of your journey."

Josefina handed her mother the ruana, which Lucía carefully folded into a square, the clean parts of the fabric on the outside so no mess would touch her. Josefina grabbed Antonio's jaguar from the bench, and ran back to stand between Lucía and Bruno.

"Hernando," she whispered. "Do you need to hold my hand?"

Bruno-as-Hernando sniffed. "I am Hernando. I never need to hold anyone's hand. But," he added. "Hernando will generously hold yours if it makes you feel brave."

Josefina nodded and took his hand. The three of them began to walk toward Casita. After a moment, Josefina handed her mother Antonio's jaguar, and Lucía tucked it under her other arm, along with Bruno's soiled ruana. She then took Josefina's other hand, and the three of them walked back to the Casita, hand in hand, together.

When they reached the Casita, Josefina scampered inside immediately to give Antonio his jaguar. Lucía lingered outside Casita's walls with Bruno, absentmindedly brushing her fingers over the folded ruana she still held in her arms.

"Thank you for tonight," she whispered. "What you did – it means a lot to me."

"It's – it's fine. I mean, not fine – it's – I was glad to. Not glad that you and Josefina were upset, of course, just – glad I could help. And – I'm sorry. About – the murales."

She nodded, and after a moment, murmured. "It's - not just about the murales."

"Oh…?" Bruno still didn't know what to say.

"For Josefina, yes. That was his last murales, his last big project. It meant a lot to him, and to have it just be – gone - was a shock. For both of us. Josefina just took for granted that it would always be there. I think – I knew, on some level - I acknowledged a new murales would be painted eventually. But I didn't think – I didn't think it would be so soon. I was trying to keep it – trying to keep it the same, even though things aren't the same. Sometimes," she paused and swallowed, wiping a tear from her cheek, allowing a small release of her own emotions after keeping them at bay to help Josefina with hers. "Sometimes, I feel like – like I'm stuck. I'm stuck in the time where Alejandro was alive, before, and everyone else has moved on and I want to move forward and rejoin the world, but it's – so hard. I want to move forward, but I don't want to forget. Sometimes it feels like everyone else is forgetting."

She picked at the carefully folded ruana, her fingers splayed on the worn fabric. "It's very soft," she said quietly.

"Speaking of not being able to move on," he muttered. "I've worn that for over ten years. Mirabel made me a new one, but…"

She looked at him, taking in his expression. "You understand." It was a statement, not a question.

His fingers tapped his thighs, and he looked at the ground, rather than her eyes. "I can't compare choosing to leave – or – or - hide - to - to losing a spouse. But yeah – I understand the feeling of being stuck. Of wanting to move on, and not knowing how."

"How is it going for you, now?"

He sighed, leaning back and squinting at the first stars appearing in the sky above them. "It's better. You know. I can't complain."

"You could, if you needed to. To me."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and smiled. "I – I know. And that means a lot. To me. And it's – there's still – stuff to work on. With me. Myself. And with my family. But I'm happy. I'm so happy - " with you. He stopped himself and blinked. "to be back. And to be working on – on the play, for the festival. With you. And friends! I have friends! Which you are, one – of my friends – of course. Heh." He scratched the back of his neck self-consciously.

She laughed lightly. "I'm happy about that, too." She sighed and leaned against the wall beside him, looking up at the sky as well. "I sort of – I sort of shut my friends out, after Alejandro died. I tried to shut everyone out. Sofia stayed, of course – she's my sister. But some of my older friends tried, too. Raquel, and Ana, they tried. But I just – it was hard. I think I need to reach out to them. To say thank you for trying, even if I wasn't receptive, then. But your friendship, now – it means a lot to me."

Bruno felt his face heat. "Uh – ah – thanks. You – your friendship means a lot to me too. You and Josefina. You both – mean a lot to me. I'm glad you're okay. Not that you're – like – totally okay now. I mean I don't expect things to be okay now after one little talk, I just mean you're doing a lot better than I expected, so it turned out okay -"

Lucía's hummed in acknowledgment, and after a moment, her brows drew together in confusion. "What do you mean, we're doing better than you expected?"

Bruno froze.

Lucía's eyes widened. "How did you know – how did you find us? I thought maybe – you'd come to get Antonio's jaguar – but - did you – did you have a vision about this?"

He ducked his head. "Um – sort of. It wasn't – it wasn't very clear. Apparently. And I tried to actually look but it still wasn't clear and I didn't – I didn't see everything. And I'm not even sure that tonight was what it was about, it didn't happen like I saw, Josefina wasn't in my vision. But my visions - they're always accurate, so I'm not quite sure what's going on, really, but I must have - misunderstood it, somehow - "

She nodded, and stared at the ground. He kept babbling, waiting for her to say more, to ask about the vision – but then he realized that she was still keeping her promise not to ask about any of them.

"It was you," he admitted quietly. "I saw – you. Upset. You were sad, and - uh – I didn't want you to have to be sad, alone."

She stared at him for a moment, and he swallowed. "You – had a vision of me being sad, and – is that what these past few days have been about? You've – you were waiting for me to be sad, so I didn't have to be sad, alone?"

"Uh, well, basically - yes."

She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder, his folded ruana still gripped in one of her hands. She squeezed him tightly, and he gasped, grabbing on to her in return to steady himself.

"Gracias, Bruno. Gracias." She whispered, her voice low and breathy and full of feeling.

He was frozen for a moment before he returned the embrace, and he felt the press of her nose and the warm exhale of her breath on his neck, and it sent goosebumps up and down his spine. He held her there, in the dusky shadows outside Casita, as she shivered and released the remnant of the emotions she'd kept a tight reign on in front of Josefina, and after a moment, he rested his cheek on her hair, and pulled her tighter.

This had never been a reaction to one of his visions before, but he could get used it.

After a moment, she sighed and pulled away - her hands still on his shoulders, his hands still on her waist. She absentmindedly stroked the fabric of his shirt with her thumb, and the sensation sent pinpricks of heat racing across his skin, radiating from their point of contact. "I mean it, Bruno. Thank you for staying with me, for – for everything. I'm so thankful for you, and for your vision. Even if it wasn't what you thought. I didn't have to go through that alone. You were amazing with Josefina, and – just – thank you."

"Well, I mean, even – I guess even if I hadn't been there, your sister, or someone – they'd come, eventually."

" I'm still glad that you were there for me. Right when I needed you. Gracias."

"You – you're welcome." He said, and then - suddenly realizing where his hands were on her waist - he made a strangled sound and lifted them up as though he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. She released him just as quickly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and refolding his ruana. He took his ruana when she handed it to him, and then reached over and rapped his knuckles on the wood of the door for luck. "Ah, right. I'm – uh – glad, too. That you're okay. And you'll be okay."

No matter what that vision actually meant, he'd make sure she would be.

A/N: Oh ho ho ho. Am I dancing a little in my seat? I am, I am.

Also – I meant to post this note yesterday, but Primo Camilo – thank you so much for your reviews. I am SO HAPPY you caught that little tidbit about Lucía noticing and appreciating that Bruno doesn't get so lost in his work that he ignores the people around him.

Fun fact: This story was originally going to be 15 chapters and was supposed to be finished this week. Obviously that's not happening, lol. I'd estimate we're about a third through the story. Ish. Bruno and Lucía will get together halfway through the story. (So it's coming soon!) And then there's more. Just as a heads-up. There's lots more to come. : )

Thank you again for your comments, reviews, PMs – everything makes me so happy. I'm so glad other people like these weird daydreams I think about all day and then write down. XD Thank you for your support. God bless you, and have a great week!