Chapter Text
When Alma Madrigal was given a miracle that October night so many years ago, it had cost her more than she thought she could afford. A piece of her heart, her joy, her feelings of safety, her home, all vanished with the slash of a blade. She had unhinged, patchy memories of it, could sense it rather than see it: her husband falling, spraying her with his hot blood, splashing the cold river water on her skirt, the sound of her own screams ringing in her ears, the feel of her soft babies clutched against her aching, engorged breasts, and the blinding flash of light from her wedding candle. As the mountains rose around her and a new house grew from nothing, she knew she was not the same woman who had rushed into the jungle carrying her tiny, newborn triplets. Suffering from excruciating exhaustion, her back aching, the blood from their recent birth still pouring from between her legs…but rush they must, or risk certain death, or fates worse than death. And in the quiet aftermath of such an overwhelmingly tragic experience, her life forever altered, something inside her died.
The pain, both physical and psychological, returned to her periodically out of the blue, as one often experiences with grief. And it was crippling. Paralyzing and terrifying. And when she finally willed the pain back, climbed from the depths it had sent her, she was ever more determined that she (and her little family) should never experience that ever again.
The miracle had created for them and the remaining residents of the village they had fled with, a tiny hamlet, nestled among tall mountains which hid them from the cruel world without. Through steel will and determination, they had carved out a tiny enclave, practically free from the troubles of the rest of humanity. And even in the haze and exhaustion of raising triplets all alone, Alma persevered, because the alternative…well, she didn’t wish to dwell on that.
After half a decade of living in their tiny utopia, the miracle blessed her family again; her triplets were bestowed with magical gifts, for what else could she call them? Her middle daughter was able to create weather with her emotions. The people were ecstatic! To have some say on the amount of sun and rain the heavens gave would surely help to stave off famine. Her eldest was able to make food that healed any injury. Certainly a miracle straight out of the Bible! And her youngest, her dearest boy who reminded her so much of his lost father, was given the ability to see the future. With such gifts as these, they would be well prepared for anything the outside world might think to bring upon them.
She was not unaware of how special all of this was. And even if the price of having these gifts and the safety of the mountains had been steep, there was always this ever present fear that it could all be taken away as quickly as it had come. The fear was strong. Oftentimes stronger than she was. And no matter how old and wise she became, the unfortunate reality that nothing was forever, kept her awake more nights than she cared to count.
The only way she could figure out how to keep the magic strong was to use it. Use it to help the community, for whom it was meant to serve. Everyday, she had Pepa travel around the village and water the crops or provide brilliant sunshine. She was not ingognizant how much it cost her daughter to constantly being made to manipulate her emotions for the task. But it was important. The people needed food to eat. So sacrifices must be made. And Pepa understood her duty.
Everyday she had her other daughter cook food and offer it out on the square for anyone who needed it, for whatever ailed them. No one was to be turned away. No one was allowed to suffer even the smallest paper cut, for Julieta could heal you with just one meal. Even though Alma knew this all took time, her daughter beginning her day before dawn in the large kitchen making food from the grain Pepa had helped grow and then standing for hours in the square serving it, for the food only seemed to work if Julieta personally provided it.
And everyday she sent her son into his room to scour the future for any possible attacks or intrusions or calamities that might befall them. No matter that he often saw things that no child should be privy to. No matter that most of the dangers actually brewed from within. No matter that the villagers’ bad behavior was now laid bare before a child who didn’t have the capacity to understand it nor explain it. No matter that if Bruno pressed too hard he was stricken with terrible headaches that Julieta’s magical food couldn’t seem to touch. Their safety was of the utmost importance. And Bruno’s visions helped keep them safe.
Since the beginning, when it was apparent that the magic had been created for her, she became the de facto leader of The Encanto. She was consulted on every decision, large or small. Oftentimes away from Casita more hours than she was in it; Her young children, raised by a sentient house. When Pepa would often act out, or Bruno caused too much chaos, or Julieta hid their misdeeds from her, she questioned the wisdom of spending more time than she likely ought out in the community. But it was her duty, her honor, to serve, and if her children were occasionally disobedient, well, what else was she supposed to do?
These were sacrifices that must be made so that whatever strange thing had brought them the magic in the first place wouldn't take it all away. The community depended on her family, on her, to keep them safe. And Alma was proud that she had done so. Pedro had died for the honor after all.
— —
“Hasta mañana, Señora Lopez,” Julieta smiled as she closed the invalid’s door.
Escaping into the shade provided by the widow’s house from the late afternoon sun, she pulled her never ending list from her pocket and made a note about the señora’s new missing tooth. She’d need something liquid soon at this rate.
“Where to next?” Dr Garcia asked conversationally, as if she didn’t already know. They’d been making the same rounds now everyday for almost two decades, only varying it when one of their patients inevitably passed away. Julieta sighed as the list continued to shrink year in and year out.
Her magic had made it so that fewer and fewer of the community members were struck with maladies that kept them home. It was a good thing, as going on her rounds was quite time intensive. But the passage of time was culling away so many whom she had once called friends; a testament that nature would always trump the magic in the end.
“Señor Muñez, and then that’s it for today,” she mused as she shifted her near empty basket to her other arm.
They walked on in silence through the bustling streets of the Encanto, greeting everyone along the way. Julieta was quite popular as anyone with an open heart willing to help others usually is. The population was well aware of her many duties and knew not to pester her with small talk at this time of the afternoon. Except for Dr Garcia, who was the only one Julieta cared to talk to anyway.
“The council has decided to have the festival next week,” she informed her as they turned the corner to mount the hill.
“That’s good. It’s been a few weeks and all the young people need something to look forward to, otherwise they get into mischief.”
Lucia chuckled, “you are a young person, too. Or have you forgotten?”
Julieta smiled, “I haven’t been a young person since…oh…a long time now. But that's all right. I’ve never really had the personality for it to begin with.”
“Ay, you were born with an old soul,” Dr Garcia grunted as the incline increased, “we really should try and get Señor Muñez to move down nearer to the square. This hill can’t be good on his knees.”
“Or yours,” Julieta chuckled as she hooked her arm with the Doctor’s.
Making it the last few steps, they knocked on the old man’s door and were welcomed in by a shout.
Dr Garcia had always been somewhat of an anomaly, more interested in how things worked or how to fix them rather than the normal interests of little girls. It was probably due to her being the youngest and the only female, constantly chasing after her brothers and wanting to be just like them. It also hadn’t helped that her father absolutely doted on her, ignoring her mother’s pleas to slow down and learn how to be a woman. So when it came time for her to get married, she convinced her father that she needed an education instead, promising that once she was a doctor, she would return to the village and provide the service for the place she called home.
While Lucia was away at university, the only woman in a medical class full of men, her father passed away unexpectedly, so when she returned to the village it was to nothing but heartbreak. Her mother, in the interim, had left to live with Lucia’s eldest brother in the city, her other brothers dispersed like seeds on the wind, and the new doctor found herself alone in a large house filled with nothing but memories. But she stayed on, determined to fulfill her promise to the only man she had ever loved.
One fateful night, not very long into her tenure, the young midwife requested her assistance with the delivery of multiples to a young woman and her husband. Elena knew the woman was carrying at least two which meant there was great danger to both her life and the babies’. She would need as many helping hands as she could get.
During the night, two baby girls were born healthy and pink. The oldest was calm and fell asleep in her father’s arms. The second was loud and upset at being so rudely evicted. Lucia held the eldest while her father worked to calm the youngest.
“Oh dear,” Elena hissed as she continued to assist the now exhausted mother, “Alma, there’s another!”
Within half an hour, a tiny boy emerged, pale and quiet. The very air held its breath, waiting for the babe to take his first breath. But Elena, though young, knew exactly what to do, and soon the frail little boy was latched on to his mother’s breast and the relief was palpable.
Leaving the tiny family that night, with such miraculous results, left Lucia feeling a high she could in no way realize she would never feel again. For, several hours later, the raiders would descend upon them and destroy the only life they had ever known.
By sunrise the next day, the young father would be dead.
Lucia and Elena were the only healthcare available in this valley filled with nothing but a large, magically rendered house and jungle. Many had been injured on the journey and food was scarce. But they were all survivors and survive they did, building a new village filled with new possibilities and a touch of magic.
When Julieta was a wee girl of five, her tiny heart shaped face surrounded by a mess of dark curls, she’d been bestowed with magic of her own. Magic that many assumed would make Lucia a relic of past times.
But Lucia didn’t see it that way. She knew the child would need guidance and took her under her wing – teaching her anatomy and pathology and about the medicines of the world and the medicines the jungle provided. Together they experimented with her magic, to discover what it was capable of and what it was not. For instance, a fresh injury was quickly cured with one bite of an arepa, but an old scar from a long lost missing appendage could not be regrown, no matter how much magical food one ate.
Do not even ask about bringing people back from the dead. They cannot eat so they cannot be healed. Young Julieta was not a fan of trying it. And neither was Lucia.
Nowadays, the people took the magic for granted. They had forgotten what it was like to not have near immediate relief from their aches and pains. They were, quite possibly, more careless than they might have otherwise been, knowing that magical healing was always on demand. And only Lucia seemed to remember the old ways. But she made sure to pass that knowledge along to her Julieta, because someday, she too would be no more and the science would need to be consulted again.
In so doing, Lucia became somewhat of a second mother to the young girl, whose own mother was stretched thin between the needs of her siblings and the needs of the community at large. Julieta, always quiet and calm, doing her best to never cause her mother problems, while shouldering the mothering of her triplets when Alma was gone, had needed Lucia almost as much as Lucia needed someone to love. It was a mutually beneficial relationship and Julieta searched out Lucia’s advice far more often than her own flesh and blood.
“I was wondering what your thoughts were on that magnolia bark tea I came across in my readings?”
“To be fair, I’ve only offered it to two of my patients thus far and both discontinued it due to the flavor. I believe I need a larger sample size before I can give you any results.”
“Ah, that’s rather disappointing to hear. I was asking because Bruno’s chamomile tea seems to be…less effective than he desires. I am not sure he sleeps many days out of the week anymore.”
“That is a shame. I say, why not give it a try? His insomnia seems to be the worst case I have ever encountered!”
“Perhaps I will,” Julieta mused, trying to recall which of the hundreds of books on her shelves she had discovered that recipe in.
“Maybe while you’re searching for it again, you might discover a way to make it more…palatable?” Lucia joked.
“Ay,” she replied absentmindedly as she was suddenly struck by another thought then lost it just as quickly. “Oh!” She suddenly recalled since she was thinking of her brother, “Bruno mentioned to me last evening that he was curious about your plants on your porch,” she scrunched up her nose trying to recall his wording, or attempt to phrase it as he had.
Coming up empty she was grateful when Lucia replied, “which ones? The orchids?
Julieta chuckled, “his knowledge of flowers is minimal at best, all he could determine was that they were pink. And you know how excited he gets whenever he sees a color other than green in his visions. He takes it as an omen.”
“Ah, my flor de mayo then. Why? Is there someone he is interested in gifting some to?” She asked slyly.
“I highly doubt that. He rarely speaks to anyone outside the family circle anymore…unless forced to for a vision, but I think, and this is more speculation on my part just because he was rather manic as he was telling me about it, he was concerned that they were not…stable? As if the pot might get bumped over and hurt someone.”
“Hmm,” Lucia was never one to write off advice from Bruno, no matter how peculiar or minor it seemed. “I have some on the ledge of the railing, which I suppose could get knocked off into the street. Perhaps I’ll see if Chepe can help me hang them from the porch ceiling. My little table is too small to take their weight.”
“That almost seems more dangerous,” Julieta smiled ruefully,” for how will you reach them to water them?”
“I have a step stool,” she replied dryly, “and I’m not that short.”
Julieta chuckled. They had now come up to her house which had originally doubled as the town’s clinic/hospital before the triplets’ gift ceremony and was therefore now mostly used as a home, Julieta’s gift rendering long term care unnecessary. The small porch was covered in plants and flowers, a hobby Lucia had picked up after spending so much time in Julieta’s room in Casita. There, every known medicinal plant known to man (both South American and from other continents) grew in abundance, attended to lovingly by the magic. It was rather addicting to be surrounded by so much nature and, being in the middle of the town as she was, and seeing so little of it from her windows, she felt the urge to bring some of the jungle to her.
“I wonder how he zeroed in on these?” Lucia mused as she picked up the one and only pot of cattleya trianae orchids, far less substantial than her enormous philodendron that entwined itself along most of the railing, or the bouganvillia that hung from the second floor balcony.
“Who’s to say?” Julieta shrugged.
“I may have to split it to hang it,” she glanced up at the rafters, “would it look more symmetrical that way?”
“Hmm, yes, I think it would do very nicely to put one here and then another on the opposite side of the door.”
“Hola, Juli,” a soft voice spoke from behind her.
Turning, she gave a friendly smile to a heavily pregnant Mariana, “how are you?”
“I’m…,” she huffed out a chuckle, “so ready to be done with this,” rubbing her enlarged belly for emphasis, “even though there’s still months to go!” Mariana was such a tiny little thing, Julieta was simply amazed at how miraculous the human body was to accommodate something so metabolically large in such a small person.
“I can imagine. You already look exhausted. Would you like a pan de yuca? It’s all I have with me at the moment.”
“Gracias,” she sighed, and after taking a bite, rubbed her back as the tightness lessened. “I didn’t actually come for me, however, though what a lovely coincidence you are here!” She giggled sweetly, “I was hoping Dr Garcia might have some more of that…special tea? For mi esposo? He’s been very…worried lately. About becoming a father and all that,” she giggled nervously, clamping her mouth shut, concerned she had revealed too much.
“Of course dear, come in, come in. Let me mix some more up for you. In the meantime, let’s get you off your feet for a few minutes. You know how Elena is always going on and on about mother’s needing rest!” Putting her arm around the young woman’s back, she led her inside, continuing to impart gentle advice to the first time mother before saying over her shoulder, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Julieta!”
Giving a wave, Julieta turned to head back to Casita. Admonishing herself after taking ten steps realizing she should have waited to see if Lucia needed her tea stores replenished! Now she’d have to wait another twenty four hours, which would likely put her behind on her cooking tomorrow! She sighed wearily to herself. Her work was never done.
Most of the tea stores came from Casita’s garden which Julieta then prepared in the lab she had behind her bedroom kitchen. Some of the teas were fairly straightforward, but other mixtures required steeping and drying and many other techniques she had discovered over the years to get the best potency out of her plants. The tea distribution was a job she had relinquished to the doctor long ago when it became apparent that she no longer had time for it, nor did she have the skill and experience needed to diagnose and make treatment regimens. Lucia had welcomed a return to relevancy, so to speak, and having patients of her own to dote upon once more.