Chapter Text
The door is, in every aspect, perfect. It’s golden and shiny and very much magical. And Camilo is in the middle of it.
“It’s unorthodox,” Abuela says as they gather to study it the day after the ceremony. She gestures towards the golden specters behind the carving of Camilo. “But we will find its usefulness.”
Pepa smiles and thinks of clear skies even as Félix settles a hand on her shoulder. “Look at our hijo, eh,” he says with the ever-present warmth in his voice. “Look at his smile!”
“Ay.” Pepa hides her face with her hand. That’s not a smile on her son’s face. That’s a smirk. And Pepa knows her mischievous five-year-old son well enough to sense trouble.
There have been a lot of smiles since Camilo received his Gift, but most of them are from the people around him. The smiles he causes.
The thought of that keeps the skies calm for now.
Pepa stands by herself and breathes in slowly. Yesterday was good. Today is good. The laughter in the house clears her mind and lets a sense of pride grow in her chest. She follows sound down the stairs, towards the hallway where Bruno is being entertained by Mirabel and a twice as tall than usual Camilo.
Ay, dios míos.
“Taller!” Mirabel cheers him on. “Taller! Taller!”
Camilo follows the demands, growing until Mirabel can only embrace his knee and he has to duck his head to avoid a bump, even as the house helpfully moves a beam away.
“Careful,” Bruno warns him. “The house needs a ceiling.” As Camilo shrinks, he adds under his breath, “And you need to keep your head.”
The kids gasp and share a glance. Like two heads sharing one single stupid thought.
Bruno flails his hands around frantically before Camilo can attempt to make his limb disappear.
“No,” he says and grabs the kid by the shoulders. “Camilo, you need to understand that we have to be careful with our Gifts. It’s a responsibility – Camilo.”
During the last sentences of his unclely advice, Camilo has mimicked Bruno, mouthing along with the words while wearing his body. At the sharp tone of his name he changes into a wide-eyed Mirabel for sympathy points.
It just earns him a sigh from the tired Bruno. “You will get to learn this too, Mirabel,” he says as he turns towards the laughing girl. “And then maybe you can help me repeat it to your primo.”
Pepa, thinking about clear skies, clears her throat and enters the scene. “Papito,” she says. “The table needs to be set.”
Both kids run towards the dining area, Camilo already shifting into someone he is not. “I’ll grab the plates from the high shelf,” he proclaims proudly and barely avoids to trip with Agustín’s long legs.
Pepa stares after him for a long time.
“Pepa.” Abuela’s voice appears from behind her, and Pepa jumps. “There are clouds.”
“Not mine, mamá,” Pepa says but looks up just in case. There are no clouds above her head, but when looking above the courtyard, she can see the grey sky. She’s not to blame – her feelings are at a perfect neutral spot right now, and if the weather is acting up, the nature is the culprit. “This is a good day. Camilo is so happy.”
“And we are very proud of him.”
Pepa nods. “It was a beautiful ceremony.” It was. It’d been perfect, and the evening night had been warm and filled with stars. Not a single cloud as Camilo had walked towards his door.
“And we will soon start the preparations for the next one,” Abuela says, and Pepa knows the town is excited for it as well. Two big parties within a month will be remembered for a long time. Especially since there might not be any new doors for a long while.
There is another burst of laughter, and Pepa goes to check. Just in case.
“Camilo.” Julieta’s head appears from the kitchen as Pepa joins the children in the dining room. “I need some fresh cilantro for the pollo, por favor. Can you grab some for me? Quick, before it starts raining.”
“Sí.”
“Gracias.”
Camilo disappears, along with Mirabel. Some days you would think they are twins. It’s a comforting thought. Dolores is good with Camilo, but Pepa knows the blessings and curses that come from having a sibling of the same age quite well.
This is why Julieta appears capable of reading her thoughts the moment Pepa comes near.
“It’s a very lovely door,” Julieta says as leans over the pot. Tiles clink as the house moves a tray closer for her to grab.
“We are very grateful,” Pepa says and it’s true. It’s a blessing, and she feels bad for the worries that keep creeping up on her.
“He is smiling.”
“He is smirking.”
“He is happy.”
“I know,” Pepa says. One can smirk and be happy. Those two are usually connected. “We are happy too. I just worry – No, no I do not worry, it is fine.” She smiles, thinking of sunshine, filling her head with it. After a deep breath, she is ready to rephrase her statement, “I am thinking that he might be hard to keep a track of.”
Julieta’s smile is warm, calm, and steady as a rock as always. “On the contrary, I think he might be very easy to spot.”
“He turned into Félix last night to avoid bedtime,” Pepa says and appreciates how Julieta does not laugh. “And that’s not his first clever idea.”
“He is still a kid.”
“Ay. But he is growing so fast,” Pepa says and takes the platter that Julieta hands her. Just the smell of the dinner makes her feel a tiny bit better. It makes it easier to cling to the sunshine. “Faster than I’d like.”
“He might slow down,” Julieta says unworried. “If not, Mirabel will be able to keep up with him.”
“In a month, I’ll be the one having to calm you down,” Pepa reminds her, earning a soft shake of the head from her sister. The point still stands. They are there for each other.
“Mamá,” Dolores says, her voice quiet as always. “Camilo is getting mud on his clothes again.”
“You can hear that?” Julieta asks. In the last six years, they’ve grown used to watching their words, but every now and then Dolores’ Gift still catches them off-guard.
Dolores shrugs and explains, “He is laughing about it.”
Pepa sighs heavily, and then Julieta asks, “Where’s Mirabel?”
The question is easily answered. Camilo and Mirabel are never far from each other. Yesterday had been an unspoken challenge when Camilo had left Mirabel alone in the nursery. His new room has been a good distraction, but Pepa knows her son and his mischievousness. He will slip away if he wants to.
“I will drag them back in,” she says as she hears the rain fall against the house’s roof. The tiles stretch themselves longer to shelter her as she takes a single step outside.
Before she can call out, she spots her son.
“This is mine!” Camilo exclaims happily. He dances around as Pepa, arms spread out to embrace the raindrops that fall around them. “It’s all me! I’m making it rain!” There is glee in his voice that remains unashamed as he calls for the weather. He dances through the raindrops, braid swinging freely as he spins around. “I’m magical!”
“We’re magical!” Mirabel says as she dances with him. With his newfound height, Camilo picks her up, swinging her around as they steadily get soaked through. “Because we’re the-“
“Madrigals!” they scream in unison, laughing.
Pepa stares at the scene as if enchanced by it. Maybe she is. She isn’t sure whether it’s the rain or the smile – the smile that’s her own, unstained by the raindrops streaming down her face worn by her son. It shines so brightly, wet and true. It's been a long time since they've been seen together, the rain and her smile.
The sight of it has her mirroring it, hands pressed against her chest that is filled with something warm and bright, something that makes the cloud part and lets the sun shine through.
Camilo shifts back to himself in disappointment as the raindrops stop. “Aw,” he says, glaring up at the sky as if it had personally betrayed him.
“Milo,” Pepa calls out softly, letting her presence be known. “Mirabel, dinner is ready. Or will be – do you have what Tía Julieta asked you to get?”
“Yes, mami.”
“Change out of your wet clothes before you sit by the table. Vamo.”
As they step in to join the family, Pepa makes sure to stop Camilo in the doorway, leaning down to press a kiss against his wet curls. He makes a face, of course, but doesn’t pull away.