Soltando la Sopa; Secretos y Soledad

by crazyashley

Summary:

Secrets and accusations fly as Bruno's true whereabouts are discovered by the family.

Antonio's innocent comments as the family prepares to go their separate ways, staying with friends and family rather than staying cramped in the church rectory, causes a fallout none of them could have predicted.

As the youngest of the children are sent away and Bruno runs in despair, the adults try to piece together what happened with Dolores' help, silences finally broken on realities none of them wanted to face. Félix and Agustín's protective instincts take over, and Alma despairs for her only son.

Will the truth about Casita's nurturing presence put their minds at ease, or will the specter of a man living in secret in the walls of their home overcome their love for their newly returned brother and son?

Notes:

My final written entry for Encantober 2024, prompt: Discovery.

 

Could be seen as a companion piece to Chess and Conversation. Emeraldsverse compliant stand-alone fic

Félix and Julieta shifted uncomfortably on the rectory's lumpy couch, unsure how to digest the information their children had just revealed and even more unsure about what to do next.  Alma sat off to the side, handkerchief to her mouth as she wept silently, her private horror at the situation plain for all to see.

Bruno sat huddled in the only armchair, knees to his chest.  His eyes were huge and hollow and glassy, tears slowly rolling down his cheeks as he stared, shaking, at the floor.

 

It was the final day at the church; arrangements had been made for them all to find more permanent lodging while Casita was being reconstructed.  Alma had agreed to stay with the Rivera's.  With her age and the burgeoning pain in her joints that Julieta could no longer heal, it made more sense for her to stay with old friends, one of whom was the town doctor.  Privately both Julieta and Félix were relieved, unable to shake the feeling if she'd stayed with either of their families it would have fostered the same sort of favoritism that had just torn them apart.  They regretted it, the separation, but they'd all agreed that a break from the insular structure of La Familia Madrigal was needed.  With the Gifts and the house gone, and perhaps the Miracle gone entirely, it was time to simply be just Madrigals rather than The Madrigals.

Agustín had been so busy with the girls, and so wracked with guilt about not seeing the signs of Isabela's unhappiness, Luisa's burnout, and Mirabel's longing for acknowledgement that he'd been bending over backwards to try and reconnect with them all, terrified he'd slowly started emulating his own distant father.  Julieta and Félix had both told him he was being ridiculous, but he hadn't been convinced.  Pepa had become Mamá Osa, protective of Antonio and rarely letting him out of her sight.  Félix had been trying not do to the same, afraid that focusing on the fear would further insulate his already shy youngest son, but Pepa had always been a little overinvolved.  Considering what they'd all just been through, Félix was less concerned with the short term attention.  Dolores and Camilo were slowly adjusting.  There had been good and bad for both of them, and he held no illusions that wouldn't continue, but they were more even keeled about it than Antonio even could be given his age, and doing better than Julieta's oldest two.  It would be good for them to get out and be on their own with their friends for a bit.

Félix was looking forward to spending time with his Tío Leonel and prima Carlota.  The closest thing his kids had to an abuelo, his Tío had invited them to stay immediately, only asking they give him a few days to prepare the house.  Small but somewhat empty since his Tía Francisca had passed and Carlota hadn't found a spouse, he knew Leonel could use the company.  Félix planned to use some of the free time to help him repair the house, Leonel's own work as a draftsman for the quarry and his other pick-up jobs leaving him little time for it himself.  If he could teach his children a few skills while he was at it, all the better.

Julieta had made arrangements for her family with her and Agustín's friends the Constantino's.  A large family, the town's zapateros and long time hobbyist musicians, they had plenty of space out on their property.  She'd spent longer getting them to agree to take on Bruno as well; ill feelings from their earlier days had made Diego, the current head of the family, wary of bringing him on.  It had been this announcement, that Bruno had a place to stay, that had brought about the morning's disaster.  Maybe it was uncharitable, but at the moment a small part of Félix' heart couldn't blame them.

Breakfast had been donated again, arepas con huevos and a huge pot of changua that they'd readily dug into, passing fruit and quiet conversation.  Alma had been careful with her words, concerned about her children dispersing and away for truly the first time in their lives.

"We'll all see each other at the rebuilding, but I'd like to still try to have a family dinner with all of us.  Just once a week, I know things are going to be hectic.  But is that a possibility?"

"Of course, Mamá!" Julieta said brightly.  "It's not forever, just temporary until the house is standing.  I'd never want to stop dinners for all of us.  Pepa?"

"As long as you don't ask me to cook," Pepa had laughed, nudging Félix.  "Pretty sure I can still burn water."

"I can help, Tía," Dolores had volunteered.  "I want to learn more than just the basics, you know?"

"I appreciate it, Dolores, thank you!"  

"I'll help too, Mamá," Luisa volunteered.  "As long as I don't have to bake anything."

"I know amor, and I'll take any help you can give."

"So it's settled then?" Alma had asked.  Julieta heard the odd twist in her mother's voice, but of course she wasn't going to ask her aging mother to stand over a borrowed hot stove for several hours.  

"Sabados, do you think?  Gives us time to prepare and there's little enough work the next day."  Julieta suggested, trying not to overstep.  They were navigating a spider's web, and she was still learning which strands were sticky traps and which ones were sturdy paths forward.  

"Is Leonel's house fully ready, Pepa?  I know he insisted on just him and Carlota setting things up."

"He says so.  It'll be tight, but we'll manage."

"Excellent!  Julieta?"

"Diego says whenever we're ready we're welcome."

"Wonderful!  It'll be good for you and the girls to catch up with your friends.  There's been...too much pressure on all of you."  Julieta saw the shadow of shame pass over her mother's face.  She wanted to feel contrite but couldn't muster it.  Part of her was still seething over all the implications of if Isabela's failed engagement had gone through.  Alma continued.

"And...Bruno?" Alma asked, the man in question sinking into himself at the sound of his name and lowering his face over his bowl of changua, hoping to go unnoticed.

"Diego grumbled about it, but he cleared out a space for him."

"Oh, that's lovely to hear.  Isn't it, Brunito?"

Whatever he'd begun to say was drowned out by Antonio's excited shout.

"Better than staying in los muros!"

Time stood still for the briefest moment.  Camilo had frozen with a spoonful of egg slowly dripping onto his ruana.  Dolores had covered her mouth in shock.  Eyes were wide across the table as Bruno made a strangled noise, his eyes darting between faces.  

"What did you say, papito?" Pepa had asked, her voice straining and weak.  Mirabel had clapped a hand over his mouth, panic making her head swivel like an owl's. 

"He--he said it's better than staying with los burros!  'Cuz...'cuz Tío Bruno was joking about sleeping in the barn if we--if we couldn't find a space, right, Tío?"

"That's not what I said!" Antonio protested.  It was clear from his face he didn't understand the reaction.  It had made sense to him.  The rats lived in the walls, and Tío Bruno kept the rats, so Tío Bruno lived in the walls.  Tío Bruno hadn't said anything about it himself, but Tío Bruno was quiet.  If something was secret, the person it was secret for would tell you, wouldn't they?

"Mirabel, don't you remember?  His rats showed me where you both were?  We used my room for the vision!  It was so cool too, all the flying sand and colors!"

"Antonio, amor...where did you say your Tío Bruno was staying again?" Julieta asked, her voice so quiet he almost didn't hear.  Mirabel looked mortified.  Bruno was quaking in his seat.

"In Casita's wall!  I think he was behind the cocina?"

"The...the walls?  Bruno?" Alma murmured, but it was too late.  Chaos erupted around the table.  Isabela, Luisa, and Camilo were almost shouting in conversation, Dolores had become paralyzed in her chair, her hands covering ears that no longer needed it in instinct.  Pepa, Agustín and Félix matched their children in volume demanding an explanation while Mirabel tried fruitlessly to reassure them that nothing was amiss.  The words 'walls' and 'Bruno' were all that could be heard over the cacophony.  One of the heavy chairs clattered to the floor, and they all turned as one to see the tail of a ruana escaping around the corner.

"Mierda, I'll get him," Agustín hissed, standing to go.  Julieta snatched his arm.

"Amor, don't hurt him, please.  We...we don't know what was going on.  We need him to explain himself."

"What is there to explain?  He's been creeping in the walls like...like...for a decade!  A decade, Julieta!  Who knows what he's--"

"Exactly!   None of us know!  We can't make assumptions!"

"Our niños--" Félix began, but Pepa took his hand.

"I know, mi vida, I know!  But...but this is Bruno!  Bruno.  We just got him back.  Please.  Please don't...I can't...we can't lose him again.  We..."

"He wasn't in his right mind when he left, you remember!  What he shouted.  He's...he hasn't been well for a long time."

"All the more reason to--" Félix said, his voice thick and full of gravel.

"To be gentle with him." Alma said finally, her voice cutting through the tension, whetted with tears.  "We cannot assume.  We've lost too much on expectations and not speaking to one another, not...we cannot assume again.  I know how poorly this looks, but we must speak with him and find out the truth.  In the meantime...Dolores?"

All eyes turned to her, and Dolores covered her face, immediately breaking into tears.  

"Camilo, Mirabel, Antonio?  Please leave the room.  We have things to discuss and you three are either too closely involved or too young to hear them."

"But what did I say wrong!" Antonio cried, his eyes huge and wet in confusion.

Camilo and Mirabel immediately began to protest, but Luisa stood, wiping her own eyes.

"I'll take them out, Abuela.  I...I don't want to know either.  Not until everything is done.  I...I don't want to...Tío Bruno was..."

Alma took her hand, tugging her to bend so she could press a kiss to her cheek.  

"Bless you, Luisa, and thank you.  I remember how close you and your Tío Bruno were.  Yes, you may all go.  Don't stray too far, please."

"Mamá, please!"  Mirabel called, eyes wide with fear and confusion, trying to figure out what all was going on, the implications slowly sliding into place, her expression growing horrified.

"Amor--"

"Mamá no, he didn't do anything wrong!  He was just back there!  He was so sad, please!"

"Luisa--"

"Mira come on.  The grown ups know him better than any of us do.  They'll get it figured out."

"Pá looks like he wants to kill him!  Mamá, please!"

Julieta's heart broke for her daughter and her brother and all of them as she pressed a kiss to Mirabel's forehead.  

"No one will be hurt.  We just want to understand.  Maybe it's our own fault.  A magical home makes the strange easier to accept and this is...  What your Tío's done is troubling, Mirabel.  I trust you understand why."

"Well yeah, staying in the walls was crazy but..."

"We just want to know the truth, amor.  Please.  Let us worry about this."

"But Má..."

"Go with your sister and primos.  You all need a break, there's still too much stress.  Please.  And do not discuss this with anyone outside of us, understood?."

Mirabel hung her head and let her self be pulled away.  Julieta pushed down the guilty pang in her chest at the sight of her and Antonio wiping their eyes.

 

With the youngest four of the children and Bruno gone, the table felt empty suddenly, and Dolores' quiet sobs took up the room.

"I...I didn't know!  I lost him...I lost him for weeks!  And then he was back, but he sounded hurt or dead and I thought...I thought he was a ghost!  You all thought I was crazy but I thought he was a ghost and my Gift was getting stronger and I could hear the dead and--and..."

"Shhshhshh, mija, it's alright," Félix murmured, shaking his fists loose and sitting beside his eldest, letting her cling to him and weep into his shoulder.  The words came in fits and starts as he rubbed her back, his grown daughter becoming a distraught little girl again before his very eyes.

"I'd go without hearing him for so long and then...It...it was like...like Casita didn't want me to hear.  Like my room, where it was...where I was normal...  I'd start to worry and I'd hear him talking to...to someone.  His rats?  I don't know."

"You heard him?  And you didn't say--" Alma began.

"I said all the time!" Dolores shouted cutting her off.  "I said all the time!  But you said not to talk about him!  You all said I was wrong!  That it was a mistake!  None of you believed me!"

"Dolores..."

"No, Mamá!  It took me years to figure out he was alive!  Years!  And when I did none of you wanted to hear it!"

"But you did hear him, mija," Félix hummed, trying to calm her back down, though the guilt was eating at him too, just as guilty as the rest of telling her to stop bringing up the man they'd all thought dead.  "In the walls of all places.  How could you not?"

"I didn't hear him in the walls, Papá!  That's what I'm trying to say!  None of you ever listened to me about him!"

"Then say what you need to now, Lola," Julieta said quietly, placing a hand on her sobrina's shoulder.  "Tell us what you can, because you're the only one who did know anything.  We shouldn't have...Please, Dolores."

"I didn't know where he was." It was quiet, Dolores staring at her lap like it held all the answers.  "I couldn't...It was hard, when I was younger, to...to pick out where a sound was.  I could guess, remember, but I couldn't really...not 'til I was...sixteen.  But him I...I could never..."

"You...what did you hear?" Alma said, correcting her tone halfway through.  Dolores peered up at her gratefully.

"After...after a while I knew he was in the valley somewhere but it...it moved.  I thought maybe the--the caves?  There's so many and I can't hear in half of them--couldn't...It..."

"Could you hear him outside of Casita?" Agustín asked, his voice piqued.  Isabela looked at him curiously, but he shook his head.

"I...no.  Not really.  But I wasn't listening for him that much.  I thought it was odd but he..."

"He what, Lola?" Isabela asked.  Dolores looked at her, her expression inscrutable but her hands shaking.  Isabela took them and squeezed.

"He was...more active at night.  Not--not doing anything but...but just outside sometimes.  I think he...I guess he left, sometimes.  And...please I don't...don't be angry at him for...I think he had to steal.  It didn't make sense then really but if he was...if he was really in the--the walls then..."

"Stealing?  Oh, Bruno..." Alma sighed, wiping her eyes and crossing herself.

"It wasn't a lot.  Little things.  The few times I heard he...he talked to himself a lot.  Wine deliveries sometimes.  Or fruit from people's trees.  Books, once or twice."

"It...it sounds like things he couldn't get here.  Not without..." Isabela hummed.  Dolores nodded.

"I only heard him go out when it was raining hard, the few times I did.  I...I don't think...I never heard him in the house.  I heard the rats but it got so hard to tell them apart from the ones I guess he was keeping and talking to and I just...It all got jumbled in my head..."

"Dolores...Mirabel told us what happened, before.  About asking you for advice," Julieta began.  She was tentative, not wanting her sobrina to think she was accusing again.  "She thought it was strange you mentioned the rats in the walls and then she finds..."

"I...Antonio heard them.  Late that night.  I don't think he understood.  It really was the rats.  They're smart and...and if Tío Bruno had been talking about it...Tonito came to my room all worried, but I sent him back to bed, told him it was just a bad dream.  I...It was so odd it just slipped out."

They grew silent, each slowly turning over the news.  Félix and Agustín stood, hands clasping and unclasping nervously, clearly itching to run and collect the man in question.  Pepa and Alma were barely holding back tears, and Julieta sat stonefaced.  The minutes stretched on until finally Alma spoke.

"We all know the reach of Dolores' gift.  A gift that unveiled so many secrets in the Encanto, and only grew stronger as she aged.  She has no reason to hide the truth.  There have always been blindspots in the Gifts.  Had always been, perdóname.  They've never been so specific to apply to only one person.  If...if Casita was concealing him...Bruno was not well when he left but he has...he has always loved our family.  Casita wouldn't have done this for him if he were going to bring us harm."

"Alma, we can't know that, we can't--" Agustín began, but Alma held up her hand sharply.

"I lived in that home for twenty-five years before you joined the family, Agustín.  Don't act like I don't know the home the Miracle gave me.  I missed more than I ever should have but for years Casita was my strongest ally.  She was conscious in her way."

"But Alma--"

"Enough, Félix.  How many boys did it throw out for you, Pepa?  The few for Dolores?  If you had such a distrust of the house maybe we were meant to lose it."

"Of course we trust the house but Casita was just a house--"

"No." Isabela said quietly, still gripping Dolores' hands, her eyes swimming.  "No Pá.  Casita was part of the family.  We could...We could feel it.  Like...like a pulse, almost.  It was so faint I always thought it was head but...but it was there.  She did things.  Tried to keep us...tried to keep us safe."

"Isabela?  What do you mean?"

"She...After Tío Bruno disappeared she hid all my mirrors.  I was...I had to be perfect.  People were talking about Tío and Mirabel and I thought if I could be perfect they'd...they'd forget and..."

"The smiling..." Julieta gasped, her face lighting up, connecting the thread. "You were always at me for cocadas for headaches...I thought it was your reglas but it was...it was the smiling, wasn't it?  That horrible fake smile you wore that first year."

"I couldn't practice it if I couldn't see and...and she knew that."

"Pepa's gift, when she was pregnant..." Félix murmured.  "You think...you think it was the house?"

"The house, the candle.  The...the Miracle.  They were all tied together somehow with our family.  I don't pretend to know everything, you two but I know this.  Casita would not have let harm come to us when the whole valley sprang from the earth to protect us.  Please.  Bring Bruno back, ask him what you must but...but you cannot assume the worst from my son when the very eyes of the house were on all of us."

 

So now they sat in the church rectory, pressed again into silence by the truths and fears between them.  The door opened quietly as Agustín and Pepa made their entrance, delayed by sending the children off to tasks to keep them busy, to keep them from worrying.  No one bothered asking, grateful at least the children were preoccupied.

 

"Bruno, please...we just want to understand," Julieta murmured quietly, as if her brother were a spooked wild animal.  He almost was, in a way.  They'd all seen him flinching at loud volumes or drifting back away from the gathered family when he'd only been on the fringes of the group to begin with.  Julieta turned to Agustín, her face contorted with concern.  Ten years of isolation.  Ten years of solitude with nothing more than what they all hoped was the voices of the family.  Imagining eyes peering unseen from the house send a ghastly unease through them all.  Julieta pushed the thoughts away.  This was Bruno.  Her brother, her shy little brother who'd spent most of his life trying not to hurt anyone when his gift all but forced him to be the bearer or heartbreak and pain to a community that paid him back in kind.  He'd been there for them with all their children save Antonio, helping even when he was breaking.  Her heart ached at the thought.

A memory rose unbidden as Bruno huddled in his chair, turning his eyes to her, red rimmed with tears.  Of this same expression on his face with each of her girls.  With Isabela, the fear of being a new tío, fear of watching younger town children not being enough to make him able to help with her.  With Luisa, fear for her; born early she'd been delicate and watery as a frog, her skin near transparent and so thin the veins could be seen.  The shared fear they'd all held of losing her.  That year had been hard on everyone.  She hadn't been able to name the fear when she'd introduced him to Mirabel, but now she suspected she knew.  He'd been unwell for so long, disappearing more often and the few times he did leave the house only culminating in him drowning himself in sorrows at the bar.  Fear of damaging her, through his brokenness.  Of hurting any of them through compulsions he couldn't bear to stop.  

Julieta wondered briefly how he'd survived.  His liver at forty had been kept healthy only by her own remedies, and she knew what cutting off alcohol could do to someone who was reliant on it.  More than once she'd been called to the home of some stubborn farmer trying to tough it out, only to find them on death's door.  She shuddered.  Bruno worked his jaw, but his voice seemed to have disappeared.  She went to sit beside him, though she couldn't quite bear to offer her hand.  Not until she knew.

"Please, Bruno.  Tell us what you can.  We have questions but..."

"We promise, no judgement until we know the truth.  But we have to know."  Félix said from his corner.  Julieta winced.  His words were kind enough but his posture spoke volumes.  Agustín's wasn't much better, but Julieta had never been more glad her own husband wasn't nearly as imposing as her cuñado.

Bruno turned away, picking and biting at his cuticles and gnawing at his lip.  He was whispering to himself, but Julieta couldn't make out what was said.  He looked absolutely mad, and their mother sobbed silently from her own chair.  Slowly he took his fingers away from his mouth, twisting them in his ruana and shaking his head frantically.  He reached for his pockets, but came back with nothing, and Julieta's heart broke again at knowing why.  His salt and sugar had depleted the day before, and he'd been asked not to take any more from the church pantry.  THe crutch pulled from under him, he flowndered for a moment before making a grating, wounded noise.

"...wha-...what do you want to...want to know?"

The air in the room stilled.  They all had questions, all of them burning their throats and souring their tongues, but none of them knew where to start.  Alma sobbed again quietly.  Agustín's shoes squeaked as he shifted his weight.  Pepa began reaching over her head to clear a cloud that wasn't there, only to realize and fall back into her own despondency.  

"Why the walls?  Of all the places you could have gone, why there?" Félix huffed.  Bruno shrank into himself, and Julieta knew that Félix' tone hadn't helped.  

"I...I didn't want to.  Not...not at first."

"Take your time.  What do you mean not at first," Julieta asked, careful to keep her own voice calm.

"I...I left.  I know you remem...remember what I s-said that night.  To--to Mamá.  I..."

She stayed silent as he swallowed thickly and twisted his fists in his ruana.  He took a shaky breath and continued.

"I couldn't stay.  I couldn't, not after...after that.  I left.  I tried to leave.  I-I-I...I couldn't leave."

"How do you mean, 'couldn't?'"  Félix said, his voice low.  Bruno huffed humorlessly, one hand running up and down his right leg as if the memory pained him.

"I...the mountains.  They're...they're so tall even climbing them was hard.  I...I think I made it over once or-or twice but I'd get all...twisted around.  Pulled.  Like...Like the Encanto didn't want me to leave.  I...I couldn't break it.  I was...there's a fog.  In my head.  I don't--I don't remember.  I don't...It's just jungle and wet and animals and I...I don't know how long I was out there."

"The mountains let the traders pass." Pepa whispered, confused.  "Why not you?"

"I don't know!" Bruno wailed.  "I wanted to go!  I wanted to go and the land wouldn't let me!  I just...I couldn't..."

"But why the walls, Bruno?  Why couldn't you--" Agustín began, cut off by a frustrated cry

"You know why!  You know why I couldn't!  I'd never be free of the questions!  That one wouldn't have left me alone until I...until I..."  He shouted, pointing accusingly at his mother.

"The...the vision..."Alma said mournfully, looking away, unable to face her son.  Bruno shrank back into himself, his voice hoarse and weak.

"I...I didn't mean to shout I...I just...I got sick.  I had to...had to come back but I couldn't...I couldn't come back.  I couldn't answer...couldn't let it out...had to keep it...keep it secret...I had nowhere else to go and I..."

He hid his face, his breath coming in shaky pants, his whole body shaking.  They waited.  They could do nothing else.

"I...Casita made a space.  Made a-a door.  I couldn't come back.  It'd been...too long.  Weeks.  Months, I don't know.  Lost and just...I just..."

"Dolores said you sounded hurt?"  Julieta asked.  Bruno winced and gripped his right leg again, his fingers twisting into the fabric and the meat of his thigh until it looked ready to be torn away under the force of his grip.  Julieta wanted to ask, but he'd paled so much in fear it screamed at her to wait.

"...sick.  I was...I was sick.  Ate something really bad and...my rats...I'd...I'd left them here, they...they got me some of the food but it had been so long I...it took a long time to heal.  I don't--don't know why."

Julieta did.  External wounds she could see and sense easily enough, and even described wounds were readily healed, but inside the body had always been trickier, and she'd had to investigate further for decades.  Her regular food would have kept him from death and prevented an illness or injury from going further, but healing would have taken far longer--as much as if his body had to heal from whatever happened too him on its own.  She could tell he wasn't telling the whole truth, the grip on his thigh concealing something far worse than a bout of poisoning, but she couldn't press.  She knew if she did, if she tried to find the truth out about this one thing, she'd lose all access to the rest.  All access to him entirely.  She felt a tear threaten to spill.  

"You wanted to leave.  Why didn't you...try to leave again?  Once you were healed?" She asked, horrified as soon as it came out of her mouth.  Bruno gazed at her like she'd torn out his heart.

"I...it wasn't...I was afraid.  I couldn't survive out there.  I thought...but I was wrong and I...  Not...I wasn't...I'm not...right.  Something's not right...in here."  He tapped his head, his lip caught between his teeth.  "I couldn't...not...not then.  Not...If I had I...I wouldn't have made it back a second time and I..."

Pepa made a strangled noise, and he flinched as Félix went to her, letting her weep on his shoulder.  His cuñado's face was still hard, but his eyes had softened.

"Ten years, Bruno.  You hid for ten years!  I can almost understand the first months and the sickness but an entire decade?"  Agustín strained, trying to keep his voice metered and calm.  His shaking fists belied what he held back.  Julieta watched as Bruno sagged in his chair.  He was boneless.  A cord had been pulled and drained all of him out of his skin like a rotten gourd.

"Please, mijo.  We just want to understand.  We want to know that you're..."

"I know what you want to know, Mamá.  I know." Bruno choked out, staring into the space in front of him.  "I know where your minds all went and I...I can't..."

"You can't...what, Bruno?" 

Félix pressed.  There was a sob like someone dying.

"I can't make you believe me.  I watched you all, through the crack in the...in the family tree.  I...there were so many cracks.  So many cracks.  I tried to...I kept trying to patch them but it was never...never enough.  The house just kept breaking and breaking and breaking and I...Everything I'd ever done was...it wasn't for anything.  It wasn't for anything and I could have just...should have just stayed in the...in the jungle.  Shouldn't have come back."

"Bruno, no," Pepa sobbed, breaking loose of Félix hold and snatching up Bruno's hand.  He buried himself in his chair, gripping the other arm as his breathing went wild.  "Don't say that.  Don't ever say that.  We thought you were gone!  We thought you were dead!  We thought you'd...that you'd..."

"...and wouldn't it be easier now, if I had?" Bruno whispered.  There was a hopeful resignation in his voice, like he wanted them to agree.  Like he believed what he'd just said, and felt they'd all be better off without him.  Everyone in the room shuddered at the realization that he wasn't entirely wrong.  His return had complicated things, and the reality of where he'd been even more, and some small, mean, cold part of their hearts acknowledged, almost clinically, that yes, his presence would cause more issues than it resolved.  They said nothing, nauseous with horror at their own thoughts, furious with themselves for letting their minds sink to the darkest places as doubts buried them all alive.

Something came over Bruno then, some false bravado that reminded his sisters so harshly of his days as Señor Adivino and the mask he'd worn then that for a fleeting moment he even appeared younger.

"I...watched through...through the cocina.  And the courtyard when...when I could.  The cracks...they kept reappearing.  I couldn't...sometimes I couldn't help but see.  I...I heard Antonio born.  I...heh, a couple times...Casita dropped me next to him, when he was really little.  I...I was so scared to hold him but...but she wouldn't let me back in until I did.  I'd forgotten.  I forget a lot.  Forgot a lot.  Now.  In the walls I...it was easier to forget.  To...to let my mind drift away.  And I...I heard more than I should have...the fights and things and I...Casita...the walls were...were mostly dead but they were...they were solid.  I...there's...I never saw the...saw the rooms.  Just dinners and...no private, never private, nothing...nothing...please I..."  Bruno rambled, not looking at anything in particular, his eyes hazy and unfocused.  He gave a slow, crooked grimace that might have been a smile if his eyes hadn't been streaming.  He glanced around the room, at all of them in turn and a solidity came to him, making him more real than he'd seemed even a moment before.

"I can't...I can't ever...I'd never hurt the family.  I love our family but...but I know I'm...that this is...this is hurting all of you and I can't...I can't go back and make you see what I saw and what I didn't and I'll never be able to...to...I can't...And I...I don't blame you.  I wouldn't want me around either.  Not some crazy man that lives in the walls.  Not some...some...not when you can't ever really know."

"Bruno...we didn't say we--" Agustín began, but the humorless huff returned.  

"You don't have to say, Agustín.  You have three girls.  Pepa has Dolores and Camilo was just five when I left and...and Antonio...You don't have to say.  You or Félix.  I don't...I don't have to have a family of my own to...to understand how you must feel.  I know Pepa and Juli are the only reason I'm...that I'm here right now."

Félix and Agustín turned their gazes away, shame washing over them for their own suspicions.  Bruno, however well he'd been able to act in his youth, had never been able to lie to any of them very effectively.  His face and nerves always gave him away and still did, it seemed.  He was pale, and drained, but not deceitful.  The tale-tell flush that had always given him away in a lie was gone.  He'd dredged up the desiccated bones of his spine and bolstered himself with it in front of them as best he could, even shaking and pigeon toed and looking one stiff breeze away from unconsciousness.  They said nothing, but leaned in as he began to speak, too ashamed to admit he'd read them for the fools they were for doing exactly what Mirabel had accused them of before the house had fallen.  In a disgracefully scathing predication, they'd only seen the worst in him, and assumed worse still.

"I can...I'll go, now.  I can't put your minds at ease but if I go then you don't have to...you can just...  The way...the mountains are open.  I--I'll stay here and...and in the morning...I still have some money from...from before.  I'll hire one of the traders, go out to the city or-or-or one of the towns.  I...I'll send a letter, let you know, let Mamá know I'm alright.  I know...I don't want you to worry.  I'll...I'll be ok, I'll go and you won't have to worry about any of it!  I'll head out in...in the morning and...Just...It'll be just like it was, you don't have to talk about me.  I didn't come back, I didn't, it was just stress from the house falling.  Yeah, stress--wishful thinking...it's better.  Better if I...if I go.  I'll go."  He was ranting and pacing, ticking things off on his fingers, his eyes darting around the room but never landing on any of them.  He couldn't bear to see his mother's tears.  Or his sisters'.  Agustín and Félix looked on in horror at what he was saying as he continued his mad ramblings.

"...give my rats to Antonio...needs the company.  Lets him know he didn't do anything wrong.  You have to let the kids know this wasn't anything they did.  You have to, you have to...especially...especially Mirabel...she's...she's already blaming herself and I...I-I-I...I'm a loose end and I don't fit anymore and tell them I'm not...tell them I'd do better away from the house and the town and and and..." he ran on, words pouring from him, his hand gripping and clenching over his chest as he winced, his breath hitching as he spoke, his words tumbling and choking him.

SLAP!!

It rang out across the room before anyone realized what caused it.  Bruno stood frozen, a scarlet handprint on his cheek as Pepa stood before him, tearstained and furious.  She pulled him into an embrace so strong Julieta swore she heard his spine pop.

"Idiota mierda, cabeza en el culo," she cried as she held him close.  "We just got you back, you aren't leaving again.  Never again."

"B-but I...but you all..."

"We just needed to hear the truth from you too, Bruno," Julieta said, joining the embrace and resting her head on his shoulder opposite Pepa's.  "We just needed to know for sure."

"But...but Agustín...Félix...Mamá...all of you thought that I..."

"It was a stupid thought.  A terrible one.  Mierda like that is what sent you...into the walls in the first place, if I'm guessing right." Félix sighed, moving to sit.  His weight landed heavily, his expression just as weighed down with regret.  Agustín was helping Alma stand as she dabbed at her face, her tears still carving lines of sorrow down her face.  Bruno flinched, too near all of them and not close enough at the same time.  This was his family.  He couldn't blame them for what they'd thought, what they might still think, but he'd rather never see them again than hurt any of them further.  He'd felt too much of their pain, seen too much of it become the cracks that had torn them all apart.  Caused too much of it letting them all think he'd rather end his own life than be there for them.  He swallowed back bile in revulsion.  Little wonder they could think the worst of him when he could leave at the worst of times and make everything harder for all of them, could hide away and watch them suffer the fall out in silence.

"Dolores said she couldn't tell where you were, inside Casita or outside.  That...that the house helped keep you hidden."  Agustín murmured, breaking Bruno out of his dark musings.  His tone was low, again the hush of placating a wild animal, dangerous only when frightened.  "If even the house didn't stop it...if she didn't..."  Alma huffed at his feeble consolation, and sat, stomping her boot twice.  The echoing claack of her heel against the hardwood caught everyone's attention, and they turned to her.  She straightened her spine, resolute stoicism holding her up, a solid aura she'd lost the last few days returning to her and leaving them all hanging on her words, harsh in their finality. 

"Casita threw out anyone she thought had gone too far, or meant ill.  You know this, Bruno.  How many of Pepa's novios did she send packing?  That foul man that tried to court me when you were all younger than ten, the butcher's father?  The Garzas after their son assaulted you?  Enough of this.  Enough of this doubt and misery.  I am too old for this stress, after everything."

"...Mamá..." Bruno began, voice thick with tears, but she held up her hand sharply, silencing him.

"I have made more mistakes than I know how to account for, and I will spend the time I have left trying to rectify those mistakes.  But I...I am not going to lose my son.  Not again.  I couldn't survive it again if you were to leave.  Any of you.  This ends now.  Casita heard and saw all.  I took that for granted for too long, but it's the truth.  If the house could create rooms for our Gifts, could sense children before they were born...why would she not sense if one of us meant to cause harm?  She rose to protect us, and she always has.  Even in this, even with her gone, we can look back!  Our home...our blessed home didn't just allow Bruno to stay, she helped him remain so.  This ends today.  No more accusations.  Not from the family."

"...but I...What I've done wasn't..." Bruno tried to argue.  His mother's glare silenced him.  She knew this behavior, this strange pull to ruin himself her son employed.  Better to do so himself than to have a loved one harm him first.  No more.

"Hiding in the walls was insane.  I will not deny this.  I understand you had your reasons and with Casita allowing it she must have had hers too.  But it is absolutely not the decision of a healthy man.  I'm not blind, I know this."  Alma sighed, beckoning her family close, knowing they'd have to impress this upon the children as well.  

"We will not speak of it outside this family.  Tell your children what you need too, but it is a family secret.  If we only hold one let it be this.  Anyone who enters this family, who can be trusted with this information, will be told, but while I am alive, while Bruno still has a life to live in the town, we tell no one outside ourselves."

"What will we tell the town, Alma?" Agustín asked.  "Because they'll want to know.  Mi padre is already foaming at the mouth, and I can't keep him away forever, even staying at the Constantino's place.  We have to give them something."

"We will let the town do what they've always done," Alma sighed.  She settled beside Bruno, and took his hand in hers, his fingers curling instinctively as he looked away, unable to speak.  

"The more we deny or try to halt them, the more they believe the rumors we react to.  So we react to nothing.  They will come up with the same wild theories they always do, and argue among each other about it.  But they won't ask directly.  Unfortunate or not, Bruno's reputation earns him a reprieve from prying meddlers."

"They're going to ask us though, Mamá.  And they'll notice if we don't give them something."  Pepa said, eyes pointed skyward for a cloud that wasn't there.  Alma sighed.

"They will.  We can always say we prefer not to talk about it.  Or that he simply stayed outside the valley.  Neither of which is entirely false.  Would that be alright, Bruno?"

Bruno's cheeks were wet with tears as he turned, scanning the room again, overcome with the spiraling turn of events.  Casita had been his saving grace one final time, and his heart ached at the thought of the house in ruins.  Slowly he nodded.

"Th--they'll ask a-anyway.  But...but I was outside the v-valley.  For a little.  I...it...it...It can work.  I...I won't be...be t-telling anyone...who...who would I tell?"

 

An agreement was reached quickly, guilt eating at all of them to make up for everything they'd just thrown at Bruno driving the rest to a quick resolution.  Julieta paused before they left, placing her hand on Bruno's chest, feeling his still too-rapid heartbeat.  She mourned the loss of her gift, knowing the stress was wearing down on his already too-vulnerable body more than the rest of them, knowing he'd never been in the best health even since childhood.  She looked to her husband and her sister, her cuñado and her mother, imploring them.

"We leave this here, when we walk out the door," she pleaded.  "We leave every suspicion and bit of anger here and let it die.  We don't...we can't let it come back.  We can't or it will tear us apart again.  Mamá was right.  This ends now.  we walk out this door, we explain to our children and then...we forget.  We forget the anger and the stupid, stupid fear.  What was said...the real truth we remember but the rest...let it die.  Can I have all of your words on that?"

All heads but one nodded silently, and Julieta almost missed the whine that Bruno tried to bite back as his hand hesitated over hers, his eyes brimming with new tears.  She took his hand and placed it over his own heart, making him hold the sign of an oath as she met his eyes.

"That was meant for you too, Bruno.  You let this go, too.  You don't have to forgive us for what we've all done and said, I'd be surprised if you did.  But forgive yourself.  For the sake of your own mind, please forgive yourself, cachetes.  If you do nothing else, if you can't stay in Casita once she's rebuilt...if you never want to speak with any of us again...forgive yourself for all this."

The tender sound of an old childhood nickname was the final thread, the burden of everything snapping away and scattering as he broke, hating himself for being so weak even as he fell into her arms, the sobs tearing from his throat held back by nothing but the cry in front of them.  By some miracle they hadn't thrown him out, and his heart beat a sickly tattoo in his chest as he wept, his body and mind empty and full and heavy, so very, very heavy as he fought for air.  The embrace tightened, the others adding to the heat and the pressure, compressing him down into sand, into stone, into the broken shards of emeralds that had doomed him for decades and scarred his mind.  He felt himself slipping away and being scooped back into himself as they held him, whispers across his consciousness he couldn't quite understand, mourning and acceptance and a tentative return to something he thought he'd lost ten, twenty, thirty years before.  

His eyes had swollen themselves near shut, dehydration still weakening his body, and he felt himself lain on someone's lap--Mamá, her hand in his hair, the smell of lavender and tamarind and sun baked stone that had always accompanied her soothing him back into dreams of his childhood.  Before he finally succumbed to exhaustion long overdue, he heard her murmuring to the rest.

"Go care for the children.  I'll watch over mine."