A/N: Hello guys!

This chapter is finally up and it is super long, so I really hope that you enjoy it!

When you're done, don't forget to leave me a review! They REALLY encourage me ?

Read, Review, and Enjoy!

Chapter 6

Needles and Heart

It was late in the evening, probably about 8:00. Imelda was cleaning up the kitchen, feeling exhausted from her day. Not only did she have to do her daily chores, but she had to take on her Mamá's work since she had been feeling sick all that day. But her mamá still insisted that she cooked dinner that night—which Imelda didn't try to argue with. She was, in fact, relieved that her mamá took that off her hands.

Now Imelda was finishing up washing dishes from their earlier supper while her brothers were off in their rooms doing God-knows-what. But they were quiet (for once) which caused Imelda to enjoy the peace and quiet that hung in the air.

Imelda stood at the sink, humming a little tune while thoughtfully drying a bowl. She was so into the little melody that produced out of her mouth, she hardly heard the knocking on the door. That awoke her from her daze. Placing the bowl down on the counter, Imelda trotted over to the front door, wondering who could be here at this time of night. She opened the door slightly and peeked through the small crack. What she saw—who she saw—became quite a surprise to her.

"Tío Santiago," Imelda spoke, trying not to exclaim her words (in fear of waking her ill mother up.) "What are you doing here at this time of night?"

"You mean what are we doing here." Her uncle stepped to the side to reveal a woman. In the crook of her arm were fabrics of all kinds and she held the handle of a box in her hand. Imelda quickly recognized her as a seamstress. Her uncle's personal seamstress.

"You know my grand fiesta is next weekend, mi sobrina," Santiago said. "And you need a dress."

Imelda sighed, rolling her eyes slightly. "Tio, I've told you before that I have many dresses in my closet..." Imelda stopped talking the moment her uncle raised his eyebrows. She nodded and said, "Well, come on in." She stepped back and allowed Santiago and the seamstress to pass through. After she closed the door behind them, she lead them to the sala de estar. She held her hand out towards the sofas as an indication to sit down. They did so, the seamstress and Santiago sitting together. Imelda sat in a chair across from them. She patted and wrinkled out her skirt to look more presentable and clasped her hands in her lap.

"Now Imelda," her uncle said. "I don't want you wearing one of your Sunday-best dresses to my party. This is a fiesta grande! You must wear a beautiful dress with ribbons and colors and sashes and pearls, oh, and—"

"¡Tío Santiago!" Imelda impatiently cut him off. She took in a deep breath before continuing in a calmer voice. "I already have a dress. From last year. I've only wore it once and it's almost brand new. Why can't I just wear that one?"

"Mi querido, my guests have already seen that dress on you once, I don't think they'd want to see it on you again."

Imelda opened her mouth to speak against this, feeling slightly offended. But Santiago continued on.

"And in my opinion, I didn't think that dress looked too wonderful on you. It didn't fit well with your shape. It was…odd fitting. That seamstress didn't make that dress well at all. So that's why I fired her."

Imelda met out a little gasp of disbelief. "You didn't need to do that. I liked the dress, and you and Mamá told her how to make my dress and what you wanted it to look like."

"Well, she didn't do it the way I wanted it to look. The color was all wrong too."

"Mamá suggested the color and you agreed on it, commenting on how it looked well with my skin tone." Imelda felt a little fired up.

"I only said that because I didn't want to disagree with your mamá and have her fight me about it."

"Well you're so strong and you always speak your mind, so why didn't you? You always fight with Mamá about other things."

"We had a seamstress in the room. I didn't want to be rude and argue in front of her."

"You're doing it right now."

"Doing what?"

"Arguing with me," Imelda sniffed while raising her nose in the air.

"You know, you're so much like your mother."

"I take that as a compliment."

All the while the uncle and niece were arguing, the seamstress looked awkwardly between the two when they went back and forth with their irritated words. She was getting tired of it and finally decided to butt in.

"So you want a nice fitting dress with a complimentary color for señorita Imelda?" The seamstress spoke up. Immediately, Imelda's and Santiago's eyes turned to her.

"Oh, Margarita, lo siento. We just got carried, as we always do." Santiago bowed his head.

Imelda also smiled apologetically, feeling absolutely horrid about arguing in front of Margarita. She was a lady; she shouldn't have been doing that. If her mamá had heard her, she would have been furious.

"Sí, Margarita. That's exactly what we want," Santiago replied with a delicate smile. "Some thing so beautiful that even our Imelda can't complain. She must be the most beautiful girl at the whole fiesta. This will be her time to shine!"

Margarita smiled while stroking the fabrics that she held in her arms. She looked back and forth between Imelda and her fabrics, wondering which ones would best be good on her.

"You know the whole reason I need Imelda to be the most beautiful is so that she can find a suitable husband," Santiago explained to Margarita, not caring if Imelda heard or not. Because it was the truth and she knew that her uncle was trying to marry her off.

"There will be plenty young suitors for our dear Imelda. And I need all of them to fall for her so that she has many men to choose from." Santiago then chuckled. "Imelda will be so beautiful, I'm sure that even taken men will be dying to ask for her hand."

Margarita giggled along with Santiago while Imelda rolled her eyes in annoyance. She didn't want to court any man in this town. She didn't want to get married. She still had a life to live and giving herself to a man would end it all.

"Ay, I see." Margarita gave a little smirk, her eyes upon Imelda. "You will be the lady of the hour."

"More like of the night," Imelda mumbled. She sat up straighter and let out a sigh. "Tío, you better be honest with this seamstress about this dress, unlike last time apparently."

"Of course, mi sobrina. We will make you the most beautiful girl at the whole fiesta. In the whole town! You will see," Santiago grinned widely, imagining it all.

"Okay, Señorita. Can I take your measurements?" Margarita asked while standing up from her seat. Imelda stood up and walked towards the seamstress. Margarita opened up her sewing box and grabbed a measuring tape.

"Lift your arms up please." Imelda did as she was instructed as the seamstress measured her waist. She felt a little embarrassed when she measured her bust in front of her uncle, but she was glad to notice that he was pacing around the room, looking at pictures of their family.

"It's a shame that your father isn't here to see the beautiful young woman you've grown up to be," her uncle blurted out. Those words came as a surprise to Imelda. Why did her uncle always bring up such sensitive topics?

"Yes, it is a shame," Imelda spoke softly, casting her eyes upon the ground.

"Chin up, señorita," Margarita instructed. Imelda looked up, though her eyes still focused on her feet while Margarita measured the width of her neck.

"Yes, well it was his own fault. Maybe your father would still be here if he hadn't gone off and—"

"Stop it!" Imelda exclaimed, covering her hands with her eyes. She felt tears burning in the back of her eyes, but she still dared to look up at her uncle with a hard glare. "I don't know what makes you think that you can bring him up, but it doesn't make things any better."

"But it does, Imelda. You need to learn how to toughen up, my querido."

Her uncle walked over to her and cupped her face in his hand while the seamstress measured her arms, so there was no way for Imelda to push him away.

"You are a grown lady now. You can't be seen crying about something that happened years ago. Men won't find that appealing," her uncle spoke.

Imelda found that her arms were now free. "I don't care if I'm attractive to men or not. My heart still hurts from what happened, and nothing can stop that." She pushed her uncle away.

"Of course not, Imelda. Of course not," his voice spoke softer. "Nothing can stop you from hurting on the inside, but you must be strong on the outside. For your mamá, for your husband. For him."

Imelda looked away, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. She remembered when she was growing up and her father was gone. So her uncle—her mother's brother—stepped in to help out. Her mamá was always too weak from heartbreak to teach young Imelda things, so she either had to learn on her own or her uncle would help her out. And when it came to emotional things, Imelda never went to her mamá for advice or help. She always went to her uncle, who taught her how to toughen up and to keep her emotions inside of her. She couldn't let them show or that would be considered unattractive. Imelda recalled being teased about that. Many of the boys at her school would call her "cold-hearted" and "stuck-up." Imelda would go home every day and at the end of the day, she'd cry at night in her room when she was alone. That was the only place should could let her emotions show. And her stained pillow of tears proved that.

"Sí, Tío Santiago," Imelda said in a hushed voice, nearly a whisper.

"Good girl." He gently patted her cheek and then looked over at Margarita to see if she was done.

"Alright, we are all finished here," she said with a big smile. "Thank you for your time, señorita. I'm sorry for coming this late at night."

"It's alright." Imelda gave her a small smile. "Are you sure you're finished? Did you pick out a color? And a design?"

"Oh, I do that all on my own time, don't fret mi querido. You're going to look beautiful!"

Imelda nodded. "Gracias, Señora. I'm looking forward to what masterpiece you will create."

"Oh, me too," Margarita giggled. Imelda giggled back and turned around when she heard her uncle clear his throat.

"I'm going tomorrow to see a musician. I'm going to watch him and decide if I want him to play at the party. Would you like to come with me?"

"Oh, thanks for asking, but I'm afraid I can't," Imelda replied. "I have too much responsibility here at home, especially with my mother feeling ill."

"Alright." Santiago nodded. "Well, we'll see you real soon."

As Imelda led them to the door, her uncle kissed her cheek in parting and said, "Hasta la vista."

"Hasta la vista," Imelda responded. Then she closed the door.

###

"Are you ready, mi amigo?" Ernesto asked. He watched as Héctor quickly tuned his guitar once more, just in case it may have fallen flat since the last minute when he tuned it. What could he say? It was one of his nervous habits.

"I think so," Héctor replied. "I just hope I don't forget a lyric or a chord or something."

"We do this all the time. I don't think you will," Ernesto tried to assure him.

"I know, but Señor Santiago is coming to watch us today, so I'm bound to be nervous."

"Might. He might come today," Ernesto corrected. "We don't know that for sure."

Héctor looked a little doubtful as he ran his hands over his guitar strings. Ernesto sighed. "Come on, let's go play and have some fun."

He reached out his hand toward Héctor to help pull him to his feet. Héctor reluctantly took his hand and was pulled up to a standing position. He felt a little wobbly, probably just from nerves. He looked at Ernesto with a small smile. He was nervous. Definitely nervous.

"Ay, relax!" Ernesto exclaimed. "We're going to be fine. We'll do great. You'll do great."

"Okay, okay. I guess. Let's just get it over with," Héctor muttered. Ernesto walked up onto the small stage with Héctor trailing behind him. He held his guitar in a firm grip and breathed in deeply. Then, he let out a loud grito. Ernesto did the same. That caught the attention of nearby people passing. Some of them knew what was going on and, because they loved Ernesto's and Héctor's music so much, sat down on some benches in the plaza. Their faces lit up as Héctor began his beautiful guitar playing. They recognized the tune easily. They always opened up with this song, and it was a good song to open up with.

The intro of the song was coming to an end, and Ernesto knew he had to start. He took in a deep breath, and with a gorgeous voice, sung out:

"Señoras y señores

Buenas tardes, buenas noches

Buenas tardes, buenas noches

Señoritas y señores"

The people clapped and cheered. Some even began to sing along to the catchy tune. This was always Héctor's favorite part because he knew he was doing something right. He was playing for the people. Not for himself, but for his audience. And that's all that he wanted to do. He wanted to play for the world. Not for his sake, but for their sake. He wanted to see them smile—to see them so happy. He wanted his music to lift hearts and to make the people feel the emotion that he was playing so that they too could relate. He didn't want money, nor fame. He just wanted this.

Héctor smiled brightly and Ernesto sang on.

"To be here with you tonight

Brings me joy, que alegria

For this music is my language

And the world es mi familia

For this music is my language

And the world es mi familia..."

The song was coming to an end, and Héctor got ready to jump in and sing along with Ernesto. Together, they sang,

"For this music is my language

And the world es mi familia!"

Héctor ended the song with a long and upbeat strum that left the people cheering and clapping. Ernesto and Héctor gave small bows, showing their appreciation to the audience.

And then Héctor's heart nearly dropped to the bottom of his stomach.

There, among the people in the plaza, sat Santiago.

"Ernesto," Héctor whispered casually to him. "I've spotted Señor Santiago."

"Oh, sí, sí. He's been there from the moment you began the song. He looked very entertained, mi amigo."

"Ay, ay, ay, I didn't even notice," Héctor replied. But he let a smile grow on his lips. Santiago had seen how the crowd reacted. He must've known by now that they were talented musicians and that the people of the town loved them.

"What song should we play next?" Ernesto whispered to him as the crowd's cheering died down.

"Um...let's do La Adelita. Everyone loves that one. It's a classic," Héctor replied. Ernesto gave a nod and waited for Héctor to begin the song with his guitar. And once he did, Ernesto began singing the traditional folk song.

"En lo alto de la abrupta serranía

Acampado se encontraba un regimiento

Y una moza que valiente los seguía

Locamente enamorada del sargento."

Many of the people began to dance around to the fun melody. Héctor was surprised to see Santiago dancing among the many people. He let out a small chuckle and played more fervently

"Popular entre la tropa era Adelita

La mujer que el sargento idolatraba

Y además de ser valiente era bonita

Que hasta el mismo Coronel la respetaba.

"Y se oía, que decía, aquel que tanto la quería:

"Y si Adelita quisiera ser mi novia

Y si Adelita fuera mi mujer

Le compraría un vestido de seda

Para llevarla a bailar al cuartel.

"Y si Adelita se fuera con otro

La seguiría por tierra y por mar

Si por mar en un buque de guerra

Si por tierra en un tren militar!"

When the song was finished, the people cheered once again. Though there weren't many people in the first place, it still was a lively audience and more people gathered into the plaza when they heard the music and when they realized an important man was among the plaza, clearly interested in the two musicians.

Once again, Héctor and Ernesto bowed after their performance. They noticed Santiago clapping wildly among the people. Héctor smiled brightly, knowing for sure that Santiago enjoyed their music very much. He most certainly wasn't disappointed.

After a few more songs, Ernesto announced to the small crowd that they were done for the afternoon and that they were very grateful for a wonderful audience. Slowly, the people made their way out of the plaza, continuing on with their lives.

Héctor put his guitar in its case once the audience began to leave. He kissed the neck of his guitar while he gently placed it in the worn-out case. He felt his stomach churn as he picked up his case, because he realized that Santiago was still in the plaza, waiting to speak to him and Ernesto.

The two of them gradually made their way down the stairs of the stage and walked towards Santiago. Nervous smiles were plastered on their faces as they approached him.

"Hola, Señor Santiago," Ernesto spoke first. "¿Cómo está usted?"

"Bien, bien," Santiago replied. "You did very well out there. I was thoroughly entertained."

"Gracias, Señor," Héctor said, dipping his head. "I'm glad that you enjoyed it."

"I did very much enjoy it, yes," Santiago spoke. "And because I was thrilled by your talent, I wanted to ask you a question."

Héctor held his breath, knowing—hoping—exactly what Santiago was going to say would be good news.

"I've been looking for good musicians to play at my fiesta this Friday. And after looking for a while, I think I've found the right ones," he said. "Would you two play at my fiesta for me?"

Héctor wanted to let out a yell of excitement. He looked over at Ernesto and knew that he wanted to too. But he instead grinned widely.

"Oh, sí, sí! Gracias, Señor. We'll be honored," Héctor accepted right away.

"I'll be honored." Santiago smiled formally, and then reached his hand into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper. "Here is the time and address for the fiesta. I expect to see you arrive a few minutes early to set up."

"Of course, Señor," Ernesto said, carefully taking the paper from his hands.

"Well," Santiago sniffed. "I must be going. I will see you two on Friday."

The man held out his hand and Ernesto took it, shaking it firmly. Héctor also shook his hand, a little less firmly. Though he was trying to control it on the outside, he was bursting with excitement on the inside.

"Well then, adiós," Santiago spoke. He waved at them and turned around to walk away. Ernesto and Héctor replied, "adiós," and then when he was out of sight, they went crazy with excitement.

"We got the gig!" Ernesto exclaimed. "This is big news, mi amigo!"

"Sí," Héctor replied. "Just imagine the beautiful ladies we will see at the fiesta."

Ernesto laughed heartily. "That we will, Héctor."

"Do you know what this calls for?" A smug smile grew on Héctor's lips. Ernesto smirked back at his best friend and at the same time, they answered Héctor's question:

"Drinks."

A/N: Hello my peoples!

I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. It was a long chapter, made up for the late and short previous chapter.

Things are finally starting to heat up!

Review and tell me your favorite parts so far! Or if you have friendly criticism, go ahead and review that! Also, review what you'd like to see from this story.

Thank you, and I'll see you guys in a bit!

Don't forget to review! ?

Also, if you were interested, the translation to "La Adelita" is:

In the height of the steep mountain

Could be found a camping regiment

And a brave girl who was following them,

Madly in love with the sergeant.

Adelita was popular among the troop,

The woman that the sergeant idolized,

And besides being brave, she was pretty

And even the colonel respected her.

And it was heard that the one who loved her so would say:

And if Adelita wanted to be my fiancée,

And if Adelita were my wife,

I'd buy her a silk dress

To take her to the barracks dance.

And if Adelita would leave with another man

I'd follow her by land and by sea,

If by sea on a war ship

If by land on a military train.