Chapter Text
Alma awoke with a gentle smile upon her face. Sitting up in her bed, she took in the gentle glow of the miracle’s candle, still visible even in the morning light that floated in through her window.
‘Three times dreamt, three times assured,’ the matriarch thought as she began getting ready for the day; the words flowing through her mind as easily as they had so many years ago.
It was time.
Taking a place at the head of the breakfast table, Alma Madrigal took in the controlled chaos before her in quiet contemplation. Her familia had grown quite a bit since Casita’s foundation had been relaid and reborn, and the table had lengthened accordingly.
Her son’s return had made things snug, though not unbearingly so, and the first extension of the table didn’t come about until Mariano began joining them for meals. His mother would join on occasion but after years of just her small family, even smaller since her esposo’s passing, she found the liveliness of a ‘Madrigal Meal’ a bit too much for her, and so would only join her son and daughter-in-law on special days.
Years passed, new suitors joined, and Dolores and Mariano would add their own children to the mix; including Alma’s first great-grandchildren, twins Miguel and Michaela.
Who would be turning five next week and thus have their gift ceremonies.
The first ones since their Tio Antonio’s.
Reassurances had been made all around, and repeatedly, that no matter what happened, gift or no gift, nothing would change.
All simply prayed for their health and happiness, Abuela loudest among them.
But this morning she had another matter to focus on and she intended to see it through.
As breakfast drew to a close and clean up began, Alma called out to the person who had been on her mind all morning.
“Mirabel?”
“Sí, Abuela?” her youngest granddaughter called back, absentmindedly lifting the pile of dishes in her hand up and out of the way of a scampering child; a friend of the twins eager to play, if Alma wasn’t mistaken.
“Would you mind escorting me around town today?” Mirabel blinked in surprise and Alma didn’t blame her; even in her old age Alma still tried to be as independent as possible.
“Sure, Abuela,” she agreed nonetheless, “I just have a few deliveries to make and then I’m free.”
“Bien, bien,” Abuela nodded agreeably. “Just let me know when you are ready.”
Soon enough they were off, and if Mirabel slowed her usual gait to match her Abuela’s, neither mentioned it.
“So, mija, what are you delivering today?”
“Oh not too many things,” Mirabel grinned, looking so much like her mother that Alma couldn’t help but smile back as she began tapping each bundle under her arm and explaining its contents. “Cecilia requested some dragonflies on her dress; she’s really into the color teal this year. Señora Alvarez asked me to duplicate some embroidered napkins her late grandmother had done; took me three days but I think I finally got the stitching just right. Annnnd Dante needed me to fix the rip in his pants; again.”
“Heh heh, when will that boy learn to stop climbing every tree in Encanto?” Alma chuckled fondly, easily guessing how Dante might have ripped his pants this time.
“I’m guessing about a week after he quits drinking café,” Mirabel smirked.
“So, never then?”
“Exactamente!”
Alma grinned and on they went, calling out greetings to those passing by and making odd smalltalk with their neighbors while MIrabel delivered her orders and even took a few new ones, jotting them down in a notebook she’d begun to carry in her bag at all times.
“Gracias, Mirabel,” Dante’s mother called gratefully as her son bashfully ran back into their home to change, shouting his own gratitude behind him. “I hate to bother you so often-”
“It’s no bother at all,” Mirabel waved off with a chuckle. “Dante’s become a great way for me to test out new stitching techniques; at this rate I’ll have it perfected in about, oh, three more pairs of pants?” Dante’s mother laughed heartily at her son's expense.
“Still, if you ever need an errand run you just snag Dante anytime!”
“I just might take you up on that! Ten un buen dia!” Mirabel grinned cheekily.
“Likewise! And to you as well, Señora!”
“Adiós,” Alma waved, setting off down the street at Mirabel’s side. To her mild surprise, her granddaughter took them down a sidestreet that led to the outskirts of town. There were still people going about their day, but there were at greater and greater distances until soon there was only Alma, Mirabel, and the odd passing mariposa.
“Alright!” Mirabel said with a too casual stretch, “Now that that’s done; what did you want to talk about?” Alma chuckled warmly.
“Was I that obvious?
“Considering how much you prefer, and are able-” Mirabel knocked her hip into her Abuela’s gently, “-to go about town on your own? Yeah, pretty obvious.” She chuckled a moment before allowing her focus to return. “So; what’s up?”
“Hm hm, no fooling you, mi mariposita,” Alma said, spying a worn fallen log ahead of them. “Let’s have a seat; even I need to rest every now and again.”
“Sí, Abuela,” Mirabel chuckled goodnaturedly, settling down next to Alma on the log, and for a moment the two simply took in the calm of the field that lay before them. Content that her thoughts were now in order, Alma turned to her youngest granddaughter, smiling softly as she realized that she had to look up slightly to reach her eyes.
“The twins are turning five next week,” Alma began to speak, not bothering to beat around the bush. “And with that comes the occasion of their gift ceremony.”
“Wait wait wait, don’t tell me,” Mirabel interrupted, a cheeky grin already on her face. “You want me to stand aside and out of the way?” Alma knew she was joking- the over-the-top face Mira made only proving that -but she couldn’t help but feel a twinge in her heart at the memory of her past words and actions. Shaking it off, they had all worked too hard to repent for her to dwell on the past now, she pressed on.
“No. I want you to do it.”
Mirabel blinked, the exaggerated smile fading to a slight frown on her face. “Do what?”
“I want you to do the Gift Ceremony for the twins.”
Silence stretched for several moments. Alma patiently counted the seconds as her words finished making their way through her granddaughter’s ears.
“...Perdón?!” Mirabel finally all but shrieked.
‘Hm, five seconds. She took that faster than I thought she would,’ Alma thought approvingly before repeating out loud, “I want you-” Mirabel waved her off, nodding her head so hard she had to fiddle her glasses back into place.
“Sí- yes, I heard you! But- Abuela, you can’t be serious?!”
“I can and I am,” Abuela replied, taking Mirabel’s disbelief in stride; she had a feeling this discussion would go this way. “Mirabel I am eighty-two years old- and- ” she cut off granddaughter’s protests, “-while I have no intention of leaving my familia any time soon, si Dios quiere, I recognize that it will be years yet before our familia is in need of another ceremony after the twins. As such, I feel this is the perfect time for me to, let us say, ‘retire’, and guide my replacement through it in my stead.”
“Bu-wha- okay, yeah, that makes perfect sense,” Mirabel stated, rubbing at her temple. “But Abuela, me? Why not Mamá? Or-or Tía Pepa! Dios, Tío Bruno would be a better choice!” Alma lightly flicked her ear.
“Language.”
“Discuple…”
“And you’re right; normally this sort of responsibility would go to one of my children, and I would be proud to pass it to them. But,” Alma shrugged, “Pepa, bless her heart, would get so emotional she’d make a waterfall down the stairs, and Brunito? Aye no, I couldn’t ask him to be at the center of attention like that, though I’m sure he’d try if I asked.”
“...and mi Mamá?” Alma chuckled.
“Honestly? Your mother was my first choice. And if any of my children could handle it, it would be my Julie.”
“So why not her? Why bring me into this at all?” Mirabel asked, and Alma felt her heart creak and groan at the pain that couldn’t help but sneak unknowingly into her nieta’s words. Even after all these years and all of her growth, her mija still felt that she wasn’t quite worthy.
Alma would see that fixed, if it took to her dying day.
Looking out across the field, through the far off houses and towards the river she now visited once a year, Alma quietly asked, “Did I ever tell you about the first time I did the Gift Ceremony?”
Thrown slightly by the turn their conversation had taken, Mirabel blinked in confusion. “Uh…no?”
“We’d had our Encanto for nearly five years,” Alma smiled warmly at the memory. “Five years of peace. We stumbled and struggled every now and again, as we began to rebuild what we had been forced to leave behind, but step by step, stone by stone, we did.” She paused to remember all they had accomplished before carrying on. “…A fews days before my children turned five, I had a dream. Nearly sixty years have passed but I still remember it as if I had had it this morning.
“In the dream, I stood with my niños, our candle in my hands, even though I never took it from its place on my windowsill. Before each of them was a glowing door, similar to the one to my rooms, but bearing no designs or names. One by one, they each touched their doorknob and the door would light up even brighter than I had thought possible. And then I woke up.”
Mirabel sat and listened, fully enraptured in her abuela’s words.
“I didn’t think much of it, until I had the exact same dream the next night. And again the night after. I did not have it the night after that, but on the morning of their birthday I came down from my room to find three doors in the walls of Casita that had not been there when I’d gone to sleep. Doors that were exactly as I had seen them in my dream.”
“What did you do?” Mirabel asked, flinching as she realized she’d interrupted.
“After my heart started working again from the shock?” Alma joked. “I decided that the dreams were our miracle trying to tell me something, and that I should do as they had shown. So, that evening, I did as I had seen, and watched as my children received not only doors of their own, but fantastic gifts as well!” She sighed. “You know what happened after that, but that is not the point of me bringing this up.”
“Then…what is?” Alma caught her granddaughter’s eyes once more.
“My point, Mirabel, is that I have not had a dream like that since.” She smiled softly, “At least until this week.”
“You-” Abuela nodded.
“Three nights in a row, I have dreamed of Miguel and Michaela’s Gift Ceremonies; but I am not the one holding the Candle. You are.”
Mirabel stared at her abuela for a few seconds before breaking eye-contact to drag her fingers back through her hair with a groan.
“Abuela I- I’m thrilled you think I have what it takes to be the next- next you, but-” Alma cut her off with a gentle pat on her leg.
“I know, I know; it’s a lot,” she reassured her nieta. “Believe me, I was nervous too the first time I stood next to the doors; I had no idea what was going to happen. I definitely didn’t expect one of my children to be able to cause a thunderstorm every time she threw a tantrum,” she mumbled drolly, making Mirabel snort despite her trepidation.
“But-”
“Mirabel. I understand why you think you might not be the right choice; and I am so sorry for ever making you question what your worth is in this family,” Alma took a steadying breath, forcing her now watery eyes to hold firm for just a while longer. “And that is why we are having this talk. Because while I firmly believe you are the best choice for my replacement; I will not force this upon you.”
Mirabel blinked and caught Abuela's eyes again.
“...What?” Alma smiled softly at her granddaughter.
“We still have time before the Ceremony; if you truly don’t want to lead it, then I will ask Julieta to do so. No one will even have to know I asked you first. …Barring a certain someone, that is, if she’s been paying attention,” Alma smiled wryly, referring to her other nieta and her sharp ears.
“...It’s my choice?” Mirabel asked, sounding like a teenager again.
“Yours and yours alone,” Alma nodded.
“But- but- your dreams?!”
“My dreams can make suggestions all they like,” Alma shrugged, flicking a hand in the air as if dismissing her dreams entirely, “-but I am not putting anything before my familia. Not again.”
Mirabel opened and closed her mouth several times, before looking out across the field again. Alma simply sat and waited. She had said everything she had wanted to say, and would wait as long as needed for her nieta to gather her thoughts.
“...Could…could I think about it?” the young woman asked quietly, as if afraid of the answer.
“Por supuesto, of course, mi mariposita,” Alma smiled, creakily rising from the log. “Take as much time as you’d like. My one regret is that I had to wait until this late to tell you, but there are still days left before the twins' birthday; you have time, and the world will not end no matter which one you choose.” She placed a kiss atop Mirabel’s head, causing her to look up and stare at Alma with the same bright eyes she’d had at her own Ceremony so long ago.
“You are my granddaughter and I love you,” Alma stated firmly, with as much feeling as she could pour into the word, “And there is no choice you could make that could change that. Entiendes?”
“Entiendo, Abuela,” Mira replied with a watery smile. “Te amo.”
“I love you too,” Alma said, her heart light as she made her way back towards town, leaving Mirabel to sit and contemplate the choice placed before her. She was confident her nieta would make the right choice.
She just prayed Mirabel would choose for herself and only herself.