Generations of Miracles

Prologue

"AYE, DIOS!" Dolores screamed in agony, her parents and husband kneeling at her bedside, her usually carefully bound curls tumbling down her shoulders as she writhed in agony. Her mother held her hand, rain clouds fighting with storm clouds fighting with rainbows and sunbeams crashed around her

"Hold on, mi vida," soothed Mariano Guzman. "Julieta!" Mariano said, head tossing round to his wife's aunt frantically cooking in the corner of the room. "We need relief!"

"Mariano, labor is difficult! The correct draft is... difficult! Where is Roberto? I thought he was good at this!" Julieta cried frantically. "Hang in there, sobrina."

"Which one is that?" Mariano asked frantically.

"Oh, Roberto?" Felix said. "Ay, hijito, Roberto – he's one of the twins that Bruno found under a bush. You know, the one who blinks really tight looks through the cooking pot so he never has surprise dinners? Or something like that."

Just then, a fumbling 8 year old dashed into the room. "Sorry, prima. I was – "

"Sobrino, just do what you can do!" Julieta cried. She composed herself. "Roberto, just check on the bay while I finish making the serving of ajiaco perfect for labor. Hurry, before mi hermana starts a hurricane!"

Roberto screwed up his eyes tight, then opened his eyes wide, glowing amber. "Let's see – right. Sweet, perfect condition – yep, her head is ready to come out. Very cute, prima. Ready when you are, tia."

***

Mariano stepped out of the birthing room to take a deep breath, but was confronted by Mirabel.

"So!" Mirabel laughed, exited. "Do we have a new little Madrigal or not? Ay! ¿Niña o niño?"

"Well, technically a Madrigal-Guzman," Mariano huffed. Then smiled. "Yes. I have a little hija!"

***

"Aye, Dios!" Dolores cried out. But, after hours of pain throughout labor, a small baby girl with a kind smile who never cried was born. The Next Madrigal.