Julieta - 23

Papa's portrait was always comforting to me.

I couldn't tell sometimes if he was smiling or not. But either way, the calm that radiated from his face brought me peace. That was all I had ever known of him, after all. He died when I was five days old.

That is, when the three of us were five days old. Pepa and Bruno were out in the town square among the villagers now, and honestly I should have joined them about an hour ago. In fact, I'm probably about to hear it from-

"Julieta?"

When I turned, I saw Mama standing at the foot of the stairs with a brow raised. "Shouldn't you be in the village, mija?"

A floorboard under my foot nudged me ever so slightly and I sighed. "On my way, Mama."

"That's my girl," Mama said warmly. As I passed her on my way downstairs, she pulled me in for a hug. And then her gaze went to Papa's portrait, her eyes misting a little.

"I wish he could see our miracle," her voice nearly grazed a whisper.

I listened to her words, trying to imagine what I thought she meant – Papa in our living Casita, seeing the magical gifts of his three children. Pepa's chaotic weather, Bruno's fateful visions, my healing abilities. Perhaps he would be amazed. But would he also be a little lost? Trying to figure out what all of this even meant... like me?

I tried to dislodge these thoughts, reaching for my cloak near the door. I called out, "Bye, Mama!" And then I stepped out into my village.

I had lived here as long as I could remember. As I walked the cobblestone paths, I felt something like a celebrity as people smiled and waved while I passed. Some came up to me with fresh cuts and bruises, and I patiently asked each of them to wait until I set up at the town square.

And once I did, the line formed quickly. I pulled out the ingredients for today's magical healing solution – carimañolas. A man came with a bruised ear, a woman with a sprained wrist, a little girl with a skinned knee. My chicken carimañolas healed all of them. And I felt proud of each cure, like the hole of questioning within me closed up just a little. But never completely.

Then a familiar black-haired young man, today with a swollen nose, stepped up glumly. My heart warmed.

"Back again, Augustín?" I asked with mixed exasperation and amusement.

Augustín started to smile at me but then winced. "Those bees..." he muttered.

I stifled a grin, making a new carimañola and handing it to him. There was a little pause as he took the snack from my outstretched hand and our fingers connected.

Our eyes met and I smiled. "You have to eat it for the healing to work, you know," I said gently.

He smiled back, "Right, thank you." He ate the carimañola, and his nose shrunk back to its normal size. I took a moment to just admire his face again – he was handsome, whether or not he'd angered the bees near his house.

I startled out of my thoughts with a nudge to my side. Pepa's flaming red hair flowed behind her and she smirked at me. "Someone's smitten," she teased.

"What?" I asked, "You don't know what you're-"

"Save it," Pepa flipped her hair around. "You saw that sappy look, right Bruno?"

I peered at our brother, who was standing next to Pepa and looked a little lost in thought. "Uh huh, yeah," he said distractedly.

"You okay, hermano?" I asked.

He looked at me, clearly strained. "Fine. Just... I gotta steer clear of The Romeros' house now."

"Señora Romero?" Pepa asked quizzically, "What did you tell them?"

"Just the future," Bruno said, frustrated. "That the tree behind their house is going to fall in two nights and crush their roof. She practically chased me out of the house."

The tree behind their house... "The guanábana tree?" I asked uneasily. "That's one of their main businesses."

"I know," Bruno said dejectedly, "I suggested they cut it down so they could save the house, though they didn't appreciate that. But if they don't, they're going to lose the tree and the house."

"Then it's going to happen," Pepa said matter-of-factly, "If they don't appreciate, our Bruno's predictions, that's their problem, right hermano?" she looped an arm around Bruno's shoulder.

Bruno didn't say anything. "I think I'm gonna head home."

As he turned, I saw a fresh scrape behind his ear. "Bruno, wait."

He turned around, and I handed him a carimañola. "Your scratch," I said.

"Oh," he raised a hand, behind his ear and winced as he touched it, "Yeah, thanks."

"Anytime," I said, watching him head in the direction of Casita with slumped shoulders.

"I'm worried about him," I said to Pepa.

Pepa watched him and a storm cloud appeared above her head. "Me too," she said.

Then the rain started and I winced inwardly. I should have known better than to bring up my worries about Bruno when Pepa was in the town square. "How's Félix, by the way?"

The storm cloud vanished immediately and a twinkle appeared in Pepa's eye. "A-ma-zing. O my gosh, hermana, I have so much to tell you. We were talking about making it official, and-"

"You mean, get married?" I asked, momentarily stunned.

"Well – yeah!" Pepa said.

"But, we're- we're only twenty-three..."

"And Mama was twenty-two when we were born," Pepa pointed out.

I thought about that. The image of Papa in the portrait with a young version of Mama. With their three babies, and then... Papa vanished. And Mama was left to raise the three of us alone.

I desperately hoped the same wouldn't happen for my sister or me. "Then that's sounds wonderful."

Pepa beamed at me, reaching out to squeeze the living daylights out of me. "Ah – too tight, Pepa!"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, hermana!" Pepa finally released me, beaming. "Now, time to talk to Mama! Maybe you can talk to her about Augustín too," she said with a wink.

My face filled with heat. "I should probably talk to Augustín, first."

Pepa looked over my head and her expression turned a touch mischievous. "I don't think you'll have to wait very long."

She turned me around and I saw Augustín standing a few feet away, a little unsure of himself.

"Go on," Pepa whispered in my ear. "Express your amor, seize your happiness!"

When I met Augustín's gaze, I felt another glow of warmth in my heart. Maybe... maybe Pepa was right. Maybe it was time to push away my fears about Mama's tragedy repeating itself. Because when I was with Augustín, it was easier to believe in hope. To believe that we had a chance at happiness with each other.

And together, we could have a family more beautiful than our wildest expectations.