Chapter Text
“We’re gathered here today to–”
“What is he doing here?” Isabela interrupted and raised both eyebrows, all too familar with the opening sentence to not recognise it as their special cousin meeting. Perhaps that was why one small tiny little thing didn’t exactly fit.
Dolores glared at her. “He’s here because I want him here.”
Luisa looked them both up and down. “But he’s not a part of the family…”
“Yet,” Dolores shrugged, ignoring Mariano’s wide-eyed side-eye. Her lips curled in a smug half-smile.
Isabela crossed her arms over her chest, looking first at Mariano and then at Dolores. Her expression changed from one of curiosity to one of being highly impressed as she met Dolores’ steely determined gaze.
“Now, you’re certainly not wasting any time…”
“But you are,” Camilo declared loudly and all eyes rested on him. “So stop interrupting me, flower girl,” he barely ducked from Isabela’s vine that aimed to slap him on the arm. “As I was saying…” he glared at his older cousin. “We’re gathered here today… to talk.”
“Obviously.”
“Oh, shut up, Isa.”
There was a loud gasp and Isabela turned abruptly to stare at her younger sister. “Lu?!"
Camilo cackled.
Luisa blushed, though didn’t avert her eyes, staring Isabela straight in the eyes. “Sorry,” she said bashfully. “But you know, I want the meeting to go on a little faster because you all interrupted my reading and the book was getting really interesting, so…”
Dolores nodded seriously. “Understandable.”
“You were saying, Milo,” Isabela hissed through gritted teeth.
“I was saying… Oh, Isa, you’re going to love it,” he chuckled.
“Rather hate it,” Dolores countered.
Luisa paled. “No…”
“Damn it, get it out!” Isabela’s patience had already run short.
Honestly, she hated when people were pussyfooting around the topic, and she especially loathed when Camillo was doing it, because he always, always did it only to annoy her. He knew perfectly well how to get on her nerves and even in the past, he was probably the only member of their family able to make the mask she had worn crack.
Sometimes the idea of strangling him with her vines didn’t sound so bad…
“What fun,” Camilo regarded her with an annoyed look of his own, which made her roll her eyes. “Anyway, Isa, since you’re so impatient today…”
She inhaled sharply–
Camilo raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Hey, it’s not me you should be mad at!”
“It’s hard when you’re being a little shit,” she snarled.
At that, Camillo grimaced, and his voice dropped a little. “You know who else has been a little shit recently? Your favourite person!”
“My favourite person–”
“The one and only Clara Gomez.”
The mere name made Isabela’s blood pressure jump significantly. She pressed her lips into a tight line, raised her chin and sniffed. “What has the bitch done now?”
“Language,” both Dolores and Luisa admonished her, though it didn’t sound at all patronising, more automatic than anything.
“Well?”
Mariano cleared his throat. “Clara and Osvaldo stopped me on my way here. They gave me flowers and asked me to hand them over to Señora Julieta–”
Isabela narrowed her eyes. “Did you?”
“No,” Mariano answered immediately. “But never mind the flowers, the worst part was that they asked me if Mirabel’s name was, umm, Mirabel.”
“Why would they?” Luisa furrowed her eyebrows.
“Yeah, how would she get that idea?”
Dolores squeaked, drawing attention to herself. “Oh, Isa, I should’ve seen it coming!” she lamented, her face a picture of worry. “I don’t know how I missed it, but there must’ve been a wave of rumours going around the town! You see, when tía Julieta went to town with Mirabel, she met the kids, you all remember Alexandra, Juancho and Cecilia…”
“Mirabel was fond of them and they of her,” Camilo sighed.
“That’s true, but the thing is,” Dolores squeaked again. “Tía told them Mirabel’s name–”
“She didn’t!”
“She did! I heard it, I…” at that she looked down sheepishly. “Well, I was… eavesdropping, you can say, because I was worried about her and Mirabel and wanted to make sure they were comfortable when out in town… But that was probably the biggest mistake, I focused so much on tía and Mira that I never really heard that apparently the townspeople went wild with gossip!”
Isabela, despite her anger, lunged forward and grasped Dolores’s arm. “Ay, Lola, that’s not your fault. I’m really touched that you did it for mamá, you know? Honestly, we don’t give a damn about what people say, but keeping mamá feeling safe and comfortable… so that she can be herself again… this is the most important thing.”
“But I should’ve–”
“Your focus was on mamá, not on them, and that’s okay,” Luisa piped in, scooting closer to the group. “You don’t need to be on high alert about everyone at all times anymore, remember?”
“Some things never change…” Dolores joked weakly.
Isabela squeezed her hand. “Some should,” she said firmly. “It’s not your fault,” she repeated and met her cousin’s eyes. “It’s not.”
Dolores smiled. “Got it.”
Isabela smiled back, then let go of the other woman’s hand and leaned back. “Now, you said she told the kids…”
“Yes, but she also asked them not to tell anyone…”
At that, Camilo snorted. “Aw, come on, they’re kids! Of course, they would tell!”
“Not everybody is so careless like you,” Isabela shot him a look.
“Excuse me,” Camilo said indignantly. “I never told anyone what was her name! Though I was asked so many times it could’ve slipped!”
“Congratulations,” Dolores offered dryly.
Camilo looked between her and Isabela. “I so hate when you gang up on me.”
“You’re making it too easy.”
The teen moved his gaze to Mariano. “Think twice before you get yourself into this family, you see what I have to go through every day!”
“Fortunately for me, I’m not in the position of annoying younger hermano,” Mariano smirked.
Camilo gasped. “ Treason! And I thought we’d get along well!”
Isabela growled, finally having enough. She waved her hand and a few vines shot from the ground, enveloping Camilo in a tight embrace. Among his offended cries, one of the vines produced a big leaf and smacked it straight onto his face, cutting his words off, working like a gag.
She smiled in triumph as Camilo was reduced to glaring at her.
“Now,” she turned to Mariano. “You mentioned Clara…”
“Clara’s never up to any good,” he grimaced. “Something about her and Osvaldo didn’t sit right with me. They didn’t seem sincere.”
“I bet they weren’t! She’s probably running all over the town right now, yapping to whoever would listen to her about the craziness of la familia Madrigal!”
There was a short silence that ended with another squeak from Dolores. “You’re on point, Isa.”
Isabela’s eyes flashed dangerously. “What. Is. She. Saying.”
Luisa put her hand on her shoulder. “Calm down, por favor.”
“I am calm!”
Luisa raised both eyebrows.
Isabela relented a little. “I am calm,” she assured. “Yet.”
“Isa…”
“What? You know I’m allergic to that woman!”
She really was. Isabela had strong opinions and strong feelings about almost everybody in their Encanto, but never had any person pissed her off as much as one Clara Gomez.
The woman was insufferable, insincere, fake, back-stabbing, annoying and stupid like nobody else. Not even Osvaldo.
Isabela really hated her with passion. And after their little talk in the town market a while ago, she was sure Clara felt the same about her.
Frankly, she didn’t give a damn. The woman could’ve talked about her all she wanted and thought about her whatever she wanted, but to badmouth anyone else in their family? And especially her mamá or Mirabel?
Now, that was something she should never do again.
But it seemed that she did.
And now, Isabela was out for blood.
“Isa,” Dolores said quietly. “You know Clara. She always gossips and she’s doing it now, actually, but… People seem to be growing annoyed with her too, maybe it’s not worth intervening? You’ll only get cross with your parents and Abuela if you did…”
“A little talk–”
Luisa elbowed her. “It’s never a little talk with you.”
Isabela huffed. “I can be civil, muchas gracias.”
“We know you can,” now Dolores was the one who sounded softer. “But we also know it’s not always the point when you get protective. And that’s okay.”
Isabela smiled at her, her anger deflating a little. “Alright. But if the bitch does something I don’t like… Neither Luisa nor the donkeys would be able to hold me back.”
The group chuckled, even Camilo, though the sound came out muffled. It reminded Isabela that he was, indeed, in the room with them and so she moved her hand, making the plants disappear.
She expected to hear whining, but instead…
“It was quite fun.”
Isabela burst out laughing, caught off guard by his reaction. And only the sound of knocking on Luisa’s door helped it die down.
“Come in!”
The door opened, and Agustín peeked inside. “Hola! I heard you were all hidden here and I was looking for you, Lola…” he stopped, evidently surprised. “Oh, hola Mariano!”
“Hola, Señor Rojas,” Mariano greeted him back.
“You know, actually it’s so much better you’re both here, may we have a word?”
“We?”
The door opened more to reveal Julieta with little Mirabel in her arms. “Hola.”
“Hola, Señora Madrigal!”
“I really do think you should call us just Julieta and Agustín,” she said with a small smile. “Especially after what we ask of you.”
“Oh?”
They walked inside and approached the group, which made itself sparse by moving aside so that they could sit down if they wanted. They opted not to, so Dolores and Mariano stood up.
“We have been thinking a lot about it,” Julieta began, absent-mindedly stroking Mirabel’s head. “And we decided to ask you both to be Mirabel’s godparents. That is, if you want to.”
Dolores squeaked in surprise and Mariano’s eyes widened comically. “Us? But…”
Agustín smiled at them. “We talked about it with the rest of our familia, and decided it would be the best decision considering all that had happened in those few last months.”
Dolores blinked. “How come I never heard anything?”
Isabela cackled. “Oh, you seem not to hear a lot of things recently,” she suggested with a smirk. “I wonder why…”
Dolores felt her cheeks getting more heated, and she and Mariano looked at each other, then quickly looked back at the parents standing before them.
“It would be an honour,” Mariano said first.
Dolores nodded, as her eyes glistened suddenly as they always did when emotions overwhelmed her. But this time those were positive emotions. Not being able to word her answer, she nodded again, more decisively.
Julieta gave her a big, warm smile.
Dolores started crying.
Three days before the christening, it was high time to meet with their priest again to finally confirm Mirabel’s godparents.
Julieta left Casita as the woman on a mission.
With Mirabel held close to her chest, because she would never leave their house without her baby near, she made her way to the church, hoping she’d meet him there, probably preparing for the evening Mass.
The church’s doors were wide open when she approached the grand building, so Julieta entered it, immediately looking around and quickly reaching one conclusion.
Padre Roberto wasn’t in the church.
Julieta adjusted the sling, cupping Mirabel’s head with her left hand, and sighed, intending to get back later, maybe together with Dolores and Mariano that time, but the sight of a lonely person sitting in the front of the church caught her eye and made her stop.
Even from quite a big distance, Julieta had no trouble identifying Alma Madrigal’s frame. Everything about her mother was characteristic, but her hairdo had to be one of the most iconic traits she had.
She could tell the older woman was praying.
Though she couldn’t hear her voice, so she was sure it was either whispered or not said out loud, but the bowed head, the joined hands, the whole pose her body was in - it all screamed prayer.
And Julieta didn’t know why, but that sight moved something inside her.
She looked up at the altar and at the big cross. Her gaze moved to the baby cradled against her chest and she brushed her thumb against the back of her small head, then, finally, looked at her mother.
Her feet moved on their own accord as she made her way down the narrow aisle, her every step quiet, light and ever so careful.
Julieta stopped a few rows behind the older woman, glancing once again at the cross, then back at her mother, noticing her favourite rosary clutched tight in her hands. It was the rosary their papá gave their mamá on their wedding day.
After more than fifty years, it was worn and used, the wooden cross was no longer sharp but smooth around the edges and some of the small glass beads were already chipped or even missing.
Julieta remembered that both she and Pepa got to hold it exactly once in their lives. A day before their respective weddings, when they were all gathered by the matriarch for a rosary with the intention of a happy and fruitful marriage for each of her daughters.
Bride-to-be had the honour to pray with said rosary then.
Julieta was twenty-five when it happened.
She was fifty-one now, standing behind her mother, rooted in place as if something was holding her back. What exactly?
Was it anger at her? For how blinded Alma Madrigal had been through the years and how that blindness led to the collapse of their house, loss of their gifts and death of one of their own?
Was it resentment Julieta had felt ever since the night of Mirabel’s gift ceremony that only grew over the years only to reach its peak when Casita buried her baby under tons of debris?
Was it the sadness and an air of regret that seemed to follow her mother everywhere she went for as long as Julieta could remember?
Or maybe, just maybe, it was something different.
The same reason that made her enter the church despite Padre Roberto’s absence, and made her walk all the way down the aisle to come closer to her mother who, still deep in prayer, hadn’t even moved so far.
Mirabel curled her fingers, grabbing a handful of Julieta’s dress and tightening her small fist in the fabric, her eyes still closed and breathing quietly and steadily. Calm.
One last look at the cross and Julieta made her decision.
She took a few steps more, now a little louder so as not to startle mamá too much. She was an older woman, after all, and too focused on other things to notice her arrival. Julieta didn’t want to scare her.
She slid onto the bench and knelt next to her mother, carefully, making sure Mirabel was safe and sound in her sling, and made a sign of the cross, then started praying.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that mamá stopped praying, her lips stopped moving and she tilted her head to look at Julieta in bewilderment, her face a clear expression of surprise or shock, even, as her wide-open eyes flickered all over Julieta’s frame.
Neither of them said anything.
Julieta finished her prayer and slid back onto the bench, resting her back against the seat back, her eyes focused on the altar.
“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you,” she recited, looking to the side. “The Epistle to the Ephesians.”
Mamá still looked gobsmacked.
Julieta looked down at Mirabel who squirmed a little in the sling. “Mamá,” she called while swiping her index finger down the newborn’s nose. “Do you want to hold her?”
“I…” the older woman’s voice was quiet and raw. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Two pairs of brown irises met. “I believe you two weren’t properly introduced,” Julieta said simply, getting the baby out of the material. The girl opened her eyes and yawned, and Julieta looked at her in utter admiration. “Or reintroduced, rather,” she cooed and bowed her head to kiss Mirabel’s forehead.
“Julieta–”
“Do you want to hold her?”
“Do you… Do you mean it?”
Julieta raised her eyebrows. “Why would I ask if I didn’t?”
“But…” mamá’s eyes darted downward, to look at Mirabel. “You didn’t want me near. I thought…”
“... that I didn’t want you in my baby’s life?”
Alma nodded.
Julieta took a deep breath. “It might’ve been true three months ago. And two months ago. Dios mío, it was probably true a month ago too. And yesterday, even, but–” she looked down at the baby who had her eyes wide open now, staring up. “But for this whole time that Mirabel’s been with us, you respected my wish to stand aside. And since my baby turned out to be Mirabel… I think it’s a second chance. To do things right now. And if I got a second chance, then so did mi familia. And you’re a part of mi familia, mamá. It’s your second chance as well.”
The older woman’s eyes watered. “Mija…”
Julieta gave her a tender smile. “Mamá…” she pointed at Mirabel with her lips. “Do you want to hold her?”
“Si,” she croaked out. “Si, por favor.”
Alma hid the rosary in a small box attached to her keys and prepared her arms to hold the baby. Julieta smiled down at Mirabel gently and gave her to her Abuela.
The little girl immediately stared at the unknown face, her little forehead creasing as a frown appeared between her eyebrows. She blinked slowly but didn’t make a sound, only looking at a new person with curiosity mixed with confusion. Her small fingers curled and uncurled.
“Hola mi nieta,” mamá said softly, brushing the tuft of soft baby hair with her hand. “Soy tu abuela. It’s nice to meet you,” a sharp exhale. “Again.”
“Hoo,” was the answer.
Julieta barely stopped herself from grasping her little hands or feet or taking her into her arms again. Her eyes remained glued to the tiny body in her mamá’s safe hold.
“She’s as beautiful as ever,” Alma whispered, tracing Mirabel’s cheek with her little fingers. “Ella es perfecta.”
“Lo sé,” Julieta answered quickly. “She’s always been.”
Silence.
“Julieta…”
Julieta looked up. “Yes?”
“Lo siento. Lo siento mucho. For everything.”
“That’s okay,” she answered, her voice a little breathy. “I forgive you.”
“Do you?” Alma asked hesitantly.
Julieta nodded. “We’re all at fault for the things that pushed Mirabel to risk her life in the first place. It wasn’t just you. She had been hurting for so long… But I had believed she was okay. I had believed she just had worse days. You know, with Antonio’s ceremony, all those emotions ran high.”
Mamá nodded slowly and Mirabel clenched her tiny fist around her grandmother’s fingers.
“Mirabel never stopped loving you,” Julieta continued, clasping her hands tightly onto her lap. “In her sketchbook… There were so many designs for clothes for all of us, but she also designed clothes for you. Even when things had been bad between you, she still wanted to make something nice for everybody. If I decided to keep you two apart… I’d be selfish. Because despite everything, she had still wanted you in her life.”
Understanding this one thing was the hardest part for Julieta.
At first, she was very determined to keep her mamá out of Mirabel's second life. She wanted to do anything to keep her youngest safe and happy, and alright, having in mind that it was the argument between her daughter and mother that pushed Mirabel to try and save the Candle in the first place.
But even hurting, Mirabel still had wanted to make her Abuela proud. She still had wanted to get her love, affection and attention.
She had still wanted to make all her family happy. Because Mirabel had loved their whole family. Her parents. Her sisters. Her cousins. Her tía and tíos. Her Abuela.
And if Julieta took it away from her without her consent… In the future, Mirabel would resent her for that, she knew.
Especially that mamá wasn’t getting any younger and there was no guarantee she would even have a chance to see Mirabel grow into her adult years.
Julieta realised she didn’t want to take away that chance. She wanted her baby to have a relationship with her maternal grandmother.
Not to mention - Mirabel was barely two months old. She was still a baby, unable to move on her own or talk. Unable to make her own decisions that weren’t related to eating, sleeping or rolling around.
They had no idea if her memories from her previous life on Earth would come back or not. They had no idea if she would remember her first childhood, her time spent with her sisters and cousins or the day Antonio got his gift.
They had no idea if she would remember the moment she died. If she would remember their screams and the oh-so-loud noise when the walls had come crashing down around her.
They had no idea what her future would look like, either.
Julieta didn't want to ask Bruno for a vision. Out of fear? Or maybe something else was the reason? She didn’t know. But she suspected it might be the fear she felt deep inside that kept her from asking for insight into her youngest’s life.
She believed Mirabel would be okay and it had to be enough.
“But do you want me in her life, mija?”
Julieta’s brown eyes welled up with tears. “I missed you, mamá. So much. Despite everything.”
When she looked up, Alma’s eyes were watery too. “And I missed you, mija. Muchísimo.”
One thing led to another and in the end, mamá stroked her cheek and pulled her into a hug with one arm, embracing her as tightly but gently as the tiny baby between them allowed it.
Julieta hugged her back.
“Te amo mucho, Julieta,” mamá whispered. “We’ll make it right this time. I promise.”
And Julieta believed her.
The Sunday that was supposed to be her baby’s christening day was a really beautiful day.
But there was one problem.
All of a sudden, Mirabel became fussy just today.
After two hours of not being able to calm her down, Julieta was exhausted and crying herself.
“Mi bebé, please,” she said through the tears for what sounded like the hundredth time this morning. “No more tears.”
Mirabel, of course, didn’t listen.
Always so calm and quiet, now she was crying her little lungs out to the point she sounded almost like she was suffocating because she ran out of breath at times and it made Julieta anxious.
“Still upset?” Pepa asked, poking her head into their bedroom.
Julieta gave her the look. “Can’t you hear?”
“Fair point,” the redhead continued, walking into the room. “Maybe she has colic?”
“My milk always helped with that.”
“A dirty diaper?”
“Checked a million times.”
“Hungry?”
“She ate an hour ago and it was the only time she was calm and quiet since she woke up.”
And she had a great appetite today, Julieta noticed. Mirabel never ate too much, she was always that baby that needed to be almost forced to eat because the food was rarely her priority in life but today, she nursed like the most greedy baby in the whole Encanto.
“She’s too young for teething…” Pepa mumbled, pacing in front of her. “Your food would help with digestive problems… You tried singing?”
“Both me and Agustín.”
“Playing some music?”
“Three or four songs, her favourite included.”
Pepa exhaled loudly. “Reading?”
“Doesn’t work.”
“Rocking?”
“I’m already doing it, Pepa!” she snapped.
She had been pacing in their room with Mirabel pressed to her shoulder for at least thirty minutes. Her gentle touch and rubbing of Mirabel’s back didn’t help. Delicate rocking didn’t help. Stroking her head didn’t help. Humming didn’t help. Kissing her head didn’t help. Pleading with her didn’t help–
“Oh… right.”
Julieta looked at the ceiling, blinking the tears away. “What’s wrong, mi amor?” she asked again, and once again a wail was what answered her. “I wish you could tell me.”
“She’s telling you,” Pepa remarked. “Just in a baby way.”
“You’re not helping, Pepi!”
Mirabel cried louder.
“Shh, shh, hush now,” Julieta murmured, moving her from her shoulder into her arms and the baby’s whole body tensed. She was clearly displeased. A few experienced manoeuvres and Mirabel was held in both hands in front of her. She fell silent. Julieta smiled. “Better?”
Mirabel's whole face was red. Her eyes were wet with tears and her breathing was laboured but she calmed down.
For a moment.
Before Julieta could tell anything more, Mirabel’s lips wobbled and she started crying all over again, now with an additional kicking that was clearly meant to hurt. Julieta huffed when two feet aimed at her stomach.
“Hey, hey, Mira!” Pepa called out, approaching them both. A shiny rainbow appeared over her head. “Look at that!” she said, pointing above them. “What’s that? ¿Un arco iris? Just for you!”
Mirabel blinked, breathing heavily, tears still pouring out of her eyes. She was staring up at that shiny thing that seemed to catch her attention.
“That’s it!” Pepa cooed. “Should I make it brighter? Just like you like–”
But as the rainbow got lighter, the baby girl screamed.
The rainbow was replaced with a dark grey cloud that started to drizzle just in a few short seconds.
“Mierda,” Pepa muttered.
Julieta glared at her. “You’re raining on my baby!”
“I know!”
“She’ll get sick because of you!” she accused, stepping away.
“I know!” Pepa shouted back. “I’m sorry!” she added, waving her hands to make the cloud disappear.
The commotion made Mirabel even more nervous if it was even possible. Julieta came back to holding her against her chest and shoulder. “Shh, mi vida, it’s just your tía, it’s just rain.”
No reaction.
“Pepa,” she called out now quite desperate. “Can you call Agustín or mamá? Or even Antonio? Whoever can come here, por favor.”
Pepa nodded, gave her a sympathetic smile and stormed out of the room with water dripping from her dress onto the floor.
Julieta turned away, kissing Mirabel’s head. Her cries didn’t lessen and she was still crying and whimpering, screaming her throat out. Where did she get the energy for that from, she couldn’t know.
She didn’t remember the last time any of her babies made a fuss like that. Two hours of complaining and almost an hour of crying nearly non-stop. It must be exhausting but for some reason, Mirabel didn’t seem tired by that.
Julieta, on the other hand, already got a headache. And throbbing in her temples was getting worse with every passing minute.
“Stop crying, please,” she begged. “No harm’s coming to you.”
Though guessing by her cries, she must have been being murdered, at least. Julieta was surprised people from their village didn’t come to Casita to complain. And poor Dolores–
“Juli?”
She turned her head and saw her husband together with their older daughters on the doorstep. “Agustín,” she sobbed out. “She won’t stop crying!”
“Okay, okay,” he tried to soothe, coming to stand behind her. “Hey Miraboo, will you go to Papi?”
But as he tried to touch her, Mirabel tensed in her arms again and started flailing her little feet again, tightening her both tiny fists on Julieta’s nightgown.
“You won’t,” he remarked brilliantly, sighing. “Maybe we should try playing again?”
“It won’t work.”
They fell silent with only Mirabel’s crying heard in the room. Julieta continued rocking her but her arms were slowly starting to get numb and she wanted nothing more than to go and take a shower at the moment.
“May I?” she heard and turned her head to look at Luisa.
Her middle daughter had her eyes glued to the small wailing infant on her shoulder and her hands were stretched out in a little hesitant but ready gesture. Honestly, at this point, Julieta felt really desperate.
“If she allows it,” she said through the tears, handing Mirabel to Luisa.
The baby screamed when she lost the warmth of Julieta’s body but calmed down the tiniest bit when she was pressed against Luisa’s shoulder the same way Julieta held her just a few seconds before.
“Hey Mira,” Luisa said, stroking her back with her hand. “You’re fussier than Isa, you know?”
“Hey!” Isabela called out, narrowing her eyes.
Mirabel stopped crying, swallowing big gulps of air.
Julieta prayed it would stay this way. She leaned against Agustín with her face wet from tears and watched the scene before her eyes with her hopes high. If they didn’t succeed, she didn’t know what she’d do.
Luisa continued to rock Mirabel gently. “That’s right, no need to be worse than princesa Isabela!”
Isabela approached them, creating a threatening cactus in the palm of her hand. “Luisa, I swear!”
A gasp.
“Oh my God!” Isabela squealed, her whole face lighting up. “She’s smiling at me!”
“She’s what?” Luisa tilted her head back to look at the small head cradled in the palm of her hand and she cooed immediately. “Oh my, she really is! Look, mamá!”
Luisa turned around to let them see Mirabel’s face while Isabela moved with her as well, not taking her eyes off the baby, the cactus still in her hand. The plant popped a few small flowers and the baby smiled wider, letting out a soft ‘hoo-hoo’ again.
“Aww…” Isabela put her free hand on her chest, popping new flowers on green creation in her hand.
Mirabel gasped and waved her little legs against Luisa’s chest, to which the young woman chuckled, throwing them a big smile.
And Julieta… she could melt at the sight. Not only Luisa did wonders with calming down her baby sister, but also Isabela made the little girl laugh, stopping her tireless crying.
It was a miracle in itself, truly.
“Isa, I think she likes it when you get violent,” Luisa chuckled, stroking the baby’s soft hair.
Isabela smirked. “You haven’t seen me getting violent yet, dear sister,” she answered smugly. “It was just an innocent threat with my new favourite plant.”
“It’ll stop being innocent when someone sits on one of these.”
Julieta couldn’t help herself. “I just hope it won’t be your papá,” she yelped when Agustín pinched her bottom. She flushed red. “Agustín…”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t see that,” Isabela said stiffly before turning to Mirabel. “Aw, pobrecita, you have no idea what’s awaiting you with these two,” she said gravely, pointing at the couple.
Agustín cleared his throat pointedly. “I’m sorry?”
“Apologies accepted,” the oldest of the sisters replied, giving them a long look.
He shook his head with a sigh.
“Now, mamá, I think you’d use some shower–”
“–are you saying I stink?”
Isabela laughed at that. “You said that,” she snorted. “No, but I think it would help you relax and you certainly need it today.”
Julieta smiled gratefully at her. “That I do but–” she approached the girls and almost instinctively, touched Mirabel’s head. Her baby leaned into her touch, making her smile more. “But would you–”
“We’ll be okay.”
“But–”
“It’ll be us and papá.”
Julieta glanced at Agustín. He grinned at her. She bit her lower lip. “Alright. But if anything happens–”
“–we’ll let you know,” they all said.
“Ay…” she mumbled.
“Juli, the time’s passing…”
And it was the thing she needed to get motivated. They couldn’t be late for the mass, after all. With one kiss on Mirabel’s head, she disappeared into her bathroom.
“It’s just like the old times!”
“What exactly, Cami?” Dolores asked while weaving her long fingers through Isabela’s hair, finishing the recreation of a hairdo that appeared with instructions step-by-step in a magazine they got from their library.
The outpour of new media they were getting since the crack in the mountain opened them to the rest of the world was truly fascinating, and all the cousins found themselves more and more interested in new things the merchants of their Encanto provided.
“He probably means the dressing up part,” Isabela smirked. “Remember how we used to dress him and Mirabel in matching dresses and do their hair in so many different hairstyles?”
Camilo groaned but was ignored.
Luisa chuckled. “Oh, do you remember that one time when Mirabel decided to help us get a grip of Milo’s curls and brought papá’s glue saying it was mamá’s hair product?”
“That was her?!”
“Very much so,” Luisa looked down at the baby napping in her arms. “She didn’t do it out of spite, she genuinely thought it was the hair conditioner that mamá used!”
“It probably didn’t help that papá so often misplaces all of his things and that had to be the case with the glue. I’m sure she had found it on the dressing table!”
“Wait a minute!” Camilo got to his feet and started pacing around Isabela’s room. “You want to tell me that she–” he said, pointing a finger at the small bundle in Luisa’s arms. “–was the reason why I had to get a buzzcut at seven?!”
“Yep!”
“What’s a buzzcut?” Antonio asked curiously from his place next to Luisa, where he was watching his now-baby cousin.
“It’s a hairstyle where you cut your hair really, really short,” Luisa told him. “Shorter than tío Agustín’s.”
“I was bald,” Camillo whined. “For a few weeks, I looked like a peeled potato!”
“And now you look like a hairy potato,” Isabela smiled sweetly at him.
Camilo put a hand on his chest. “Ouch?”
Antonio’s giggles interrupted his older brother’s complaining. “I bet you looked funny!”
Dolores turned to them. “He did!”
“Are there any pictures?”
“No,” Camilo said instantly.
“As a matter of fact, there are,” Dolores told them, as she and Isabela switched places and now she was the one getting her hair done. “I have a photo album!”
“But after Casita fell–”
“–aw, Milo, didn’t you know that all our belongings returned when the miracle came back?” his sister inquired in a sugary tone. “Though, I’m not surprised you haven’t noticed, it’s difficult when one lives in such a mess.”
Camilo raised both eyebrows, straightening proudly. “It’s not a mess, it’s artistic disarray, but what would you know! None of you have any artistic bone in your body. Tío Bruno, on the other hand–”
“–would be terrified. Maybe that’s why he never visited your room.”
“It’s a man who lives with rats,” he deadpanned.
“And rats are very clean animals!” Antonio declared loudly, his tone defensive. “They clean themselves all the time!”
Camilo threw his arms in the air. “So nobody in this family will ever stick up to me, I get it! It will always be me versus you!”
Luisa raised one eyebrow. “Maybe you just have to wait for a while until Mirabel grows up and you’ll be just like years ago. Two inseparable–”
“–unsufferable–”
“–untamed–
“–little beasts,” Dolores finished.
Isabela shivered. “Please, no. We cannot let Mirabel make the same mistake and befriend him.”
“Hey!”
“Don’t be mean to him!” Antonio pouted. “He can’t help who he is!”
The group roared with laughter, and even Camilo caved in, especially when their giggles woke Mirabel up and caused her to make all sorts of weird baby noises, though any of them was crying.
Thank God.
That faithful day the weather was perfect – neither too cold nor too hot, with a gentle breeze giving relief to people who had to stay in sunlight for long periods.
They were quite fortunate for that, for their church was unfortunately very weather-dependent, and the temperature outside often dedicated the level of comfort people inside would be faced with.
So Julieta felt truly grateful that the day looked promising.
Their whole family gathered inside the holy building long before the first townspeople started rounding inside, but with every minute the chorus of voices, mostly hushed, was getting more and more detectable.
Poor Dolores really was being tested at times like that.
But as it was, the once again united la famila Madrigal occupied the first rows on both sides of the church, the matriarch, the parents and the godparents occupying the right one, the siblings and other family members behind them, and the children of the family in the row on the left.
Padre Roberto had approached them for the last time before the Mass began, chatting with them in a friendly manner, though every now and then his eyes seemed to dart aside, which made Julieta a little restless for reasons unknown.
As the priest didn’t voice any concerns, though, she decided to let her feelings slide, because surely, it was nothing. She was nervous only because it was a big gathering, a big ceremony, and she had been rather secluded in the past months, which was understandable. Nothing more to that. She was sure.
The bells rang and the celebrations eventually began, but fortunately for them, Mirabel decided to nap through most of it, not making any sound even when she was transferred from Julieta to Agustín and from Agustín to Alma when holding her was becoming a little tiring.
Mirabel seemed to enjoy the latest change in their family’s dynamics, mainly the new inclusion of her grandmother in the daily interactions, and always looked rather content for a tiny infant when the oldest Madrigal held her, which was a relieving outcome.
It was all coming together so well. For the first time in God knew how long Julieta felt happy with her life. Everything was getting better with time, and it almost seemed like their familia had never been more wrapt up together. Another miracle in its own right, she was sure.
The voice of Padre Roberto got her out of her thoughts and Julieta turned her head to see the priest coming toward them.
“Today, our ceremony will have another important part,” he said in a warm, friendly tone. “As you all know, every new life is worth celebrating, and today, we’ve gathered here to not only celebrate our saviour Jesus Christ, but also to welcome another member of our community.”
He stopped before them and gave Mirabel, who now was resting again in Julieta’s arms, a fond look.
“Or rather, to welcome her anew.”
And just like that, the silence was filled with many murmurs that started quietly, but were getting louder and louder by the moment. Dolores glanced backwards, and Mariano put his arm on her waist. The children followed suit, also turning their attention behind them, confusion and other emotions clear on their faces.
Padre Roberto gave the congregation one long look, before he turned to the family. He looked at the parents.
“What are you asking the Holy Church for on behalf of your child?”
“For baptism.”
“By asking for baptism for your child, you decide to raise your child in faith, so that, according to God’s Commandments, they live with love for God and brothers and sisters in faith, like Jesus Christ taught us. Are you aware of this responsibility?”
“We are.”
Padre Roberto turned to Dolores and Mariano.
“And you, the child’s godparents, are you ready to help the parents of this child in fulfilling this responsibility?”
“We are.”
Padre Roberto turned to Julieta and raised his hand slightly above the sleeping baby’s head. “Mirabel Pedra–”
The murmuring grew impossibly louder.
So did the priest’s voice. “–this Congregation welcomes you with open arms and in great joy. I, on behalf of said Congregation, mark you with the sign of Cross, and so will do your parents and godparents.”
As soon as his hand finished the sign of Cross and Julieta had already raised her hand to do the same, a loud, shrieking voice sounded from a few rows behind them. “This is madness!”
The silence afterwards was loud.
Padre Roberto raised his gaze – and Julieta could swear she had never seen such iciness in his eyes – and stepped to the middle of the aisle, so that everyone could see and hear him perfectly.
“This is a serious accusation to be made in the house of God, dear sister,” he stated simply in a loud yet steady voice.
Clara Gomez stepped from her row and, having dropped to one knee to make a hasty sign of Cross before the Altair, came a few steps forward. “Padre, surely you can see that it is not right.”
“What exactly is not right? Are you implying it is not right to welcome a child into our Congregation?”
“I have no right to imply this, but didn’t you hear yourself?”
A few shocked gasps sounded from the crowd, probably as a reaction to the woman’s incredible boldness in such circumstances.
Clara took another two steps. “What are the child’s names?”
Padre Roberto remained stoic. “Mirabel Pedra.”
“ Exactly! ” Clara exclaimed, earning more aghast looks from the crowd. “Just like her older dead sister! This is madness!”
“I see no madness at all.”
Clara gaped. “You don’t?”
“I don’t,” he confirmed. “It is not unusual for people to name their newborn children after their late siblings–”
“–but–”
“–and I may be in the wrong, but I’m fairly certain that was the case with you as well. Wasn’t your sister who died before you, may God protect her soul, named Clara?”
That shut the woman up for a brief moment.
Padre Roberto remained passive. “As I said, it is not uncommon, but the Madrigals have another reason to name their little girl as they did,” he said, and gave a long look to the big crowd. “A true miracle had happened, and we can thank God for that, because Mirabel, our sister that had left us far too early, and who had been such a happy, beautiful soul, was returned to us.”
Clara breathed sharply. “You cannot possibly say–”
Padre Roberto gave her another steely look. “That is another accusation, and also a serious display of lack of faith in the greatness of our Lord, whose power is something beyond our understanding.”
“Padre…”
His gaze softened, and he sighed wearily. “Clara, I see you got lost in your way, and I would gladly offer you assistance in guiding you back towards God, but it shall start with some reflection. Are you capable of it?”
The woman looked at him, the priest looked at her, and then–
–she turned on her heels and ran out of the church.
Much to the confusion of everybody present in the building.
Padre Roberto seemed unfazed, but those standing the closest to him would notice the pity that had appeared in his eyes as his gaze lingered on the retreating form of a woman.
When Clara’s steps could no longer be heard, he once again addressed the people surrounding him. “God’s grace and power are unlimited, and He is capable of things our minds may not comprehend. But when I tell you that one of us was returned to us and given a second chance at mortal life, I do not lie. I believe that what He had done was an act of love and mercy, and we shall celebrate it as such, and not controvert His doing.”
Silence.
But now, it felt almost respectful. Understanding. Welcoming.
The shift in atmosphere was palpable and Julieta released a long breath she didn’t even notice she had been holding in.
Padre Roberto returned to them, smiled reassuringly, and, looking into Mirabel’s eyes, who now was wide awake and looking straight at him with an expression that looked like she understood, repeated the sign of Cross.
“Now, the parents…”
The charming atmosphere was only interrupted when cold water was poured down the girl’s head and Mirabel Pedra Rojas Madrigal screamed at the top of her lungs.
Much like the first time it had happened.
Everything finally seemed right.