The Woman in Red Page 5

  “Fine.” I sulked. “This was my one opportunity to see the tall ships up close. I’ll never get to do this again.”

  Manuela sighed. “All right! I will go with you, but not one word to Hector. Do you understand? Not one word.” She turned and stormed off down the hall. “The things I do.”

  Two days later we went to the harbor. Manuela kept looking over her shoulder. “The only reason anyone would notice us is because you are wearing a cloak on a warm spring day. You look odd,” I grumbled.

  “Do you think I should take it off so that no one will notice us?”

  “No one is going to see us. Nor will they care.”

  “You never know,” she hissed. “There are eyes everywhere.”

  “Manuela, we are the least interesting people in Laguna. No one will be watching us.”

  “Not unless you let this flirtation get out of control.”

  I chose to ignore Manuela’s last comment. I didn’t need her to remind me. A relationship with Giuseppe Garibaldi was the last thing I needed. We walked in silence for a few more feet before she added, “You do look nice today, though.”

  “Thank you,” I responded. I wore one of Manuela’s old dresses, green with yellow trim. My hair was pulled into a modest chignon. Fidgeting with the sleeves of my dress, I wasn’t paying attention to where we were walking until Manuela placed a hand on my shoulder.

  My breath caught in my throat as I spied Senhor Garibaldi’s ship up close, without a crowd of people, for the first time. “It looks like a horse, doesn’t it?” The tall ship sat proudly before us, large and beautiful, the masts reaching to the sun. It gently creaked with the smooth lull of the water. Men moved about the ship, engrossed in their work.

  I looked back at Manuela and was disappointed not to see my enthusiasm reflected in her face. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, holding me back as I tried to move toward the ship.

  “I have never been on a ship before. This is so exciting.” I tried to pull her forward with me.

  “Anna, are you excited about the ship or about Senhor Garibaldi?” I stared at Manuela as she ventured on. “A ship is no place for a woman. We shouldn’t be doing this; we can still turn around.”

  I pulled on her arm. “Please, Manuela. I promise I won’t tell your husband if you don’t.”

  Reluctantly she followed me onto the ship. Garibaldi paced on the deck but stopped when he saw us. He looked up at us and smiled. “Welcome!” A large smile spread across his face. “Let me show you around the ship.” We let him lead us around as he talked about the ship’s features with pride.

  “I have climbed this mast myself, many times. Right up to the crow’s nest at the very top,” he said, slapping the thick wooden pole. “When the ship is at full sail it feels like flying.”

  Stepping back, I took in the expanse of the large beam in front of me.

  “On a clear day when there are no clouds and the sun glints on the crystal-blue water, you can see for miles and miles, all the way to the horizon.” He spoke as if in a dream. “You really feel like the ocean is yours. It is the most humbling feeling in all the world.”

  “I can only imagine,” I said, trying to picture what it felt like. I looked back at Garibaldi, who was watching me, making no attempt to look away.

  He coughed slightly. “There is something over here I would like to show you.” I followed him to the other side of the ship, cautiously looking behind me to see Manuela distracted by a sailor. I came up to stand next to Garibaldi at the railing of the ship. He was looking out toward the mouth of the lagoon. We watched as small fishing vessels lazily slipped in and out of the harbor. His hands gripped the railing in front of him, almost touching mine. They held on so tightly that I could see the small muscles crisscrossed with tiny veins.

  “You are married,” he said, refusing to look at me.

  I felt a sinking weight in my gut, like a rock that had been dropped in a pond. For just a little while I wanted to pretend that I was not a marked woman, I wanted this flirtation to keep going. To think that perhaps somehow, some way, life with him could be possible, even if it was pretend. I struggled to suck in a lungful of air against the pressure that was building in my chest as I watched the fantasy of having Giuseppe Garibaldi dissolve into small waves that slapped against the boat.

  “Who told you?” I finally asked, refusing to look at him too.

  “Hector,” he said, still looking out over the lagoon. “I inquired after you.” He sounded like he had to force the words out of his mouth.

  “Oh.” I felt the stab of betrayal. I would never be able to look Hector in the eye again.

  “Do you love him?”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Your husband.”

  “Oh. Him,” I said, annoyed that I still had not rid myself of the albatross that was Manoel. “No. Could you love someone you were forced to marry?”

  “I suppose, if time allowed.” He shook his head. “All the same. You are still married.”

  I took a deep breath, letting the air slowly escape from between my lips. “If you want to call it that. Manoel was never much of a husband. And now? He could be dead for all I know.”

  “He left you?”

  “He joined the cavalry about six months ago.”

  “You didn’t go with him?”

  I looked at Garibaldi, tears threatening to spill out of my eyes. Manoel was gone, but he would continue to haunt me for the rest of my life. I realized this now as I looked into Garibaldi’s handsome bearded face. I was never going to be happy. “And make his meals, wash his clothes, pretend to be happy when he walked off the battlefield? No. I am not his slave. I would rather live as a widow than follow around a man I have no respect for.”

  He looked down at me, shocked at the bitterness of my words. “I am truly sorry to hear you feel that way.” He reached out for my hand, still clenching the railing, but I moved it away before he could grasp it. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Anna de Jesus.” His voice wavered ever so slightly.

  I smiled, though my heart broke into a million pieces. “The pleasure is all mine,” I said as I pulled myself away. I went back to Manuela, who suddenly acted as if she were very interested in the structure of a fishing net.

  Hooking our arms together, we strode back to shore. I looked over my shoulder and for a moment I thought I saw Garibaldi watching us. Had it been my imagination? What would Giuseppe Garibaldi want with a married woman like me?

  I dreamed of him. Every night Garibaldi visited me, always at the edge of my sight, taunting me. I heard his whisper, Anna, soft and deep. I woke in my bed, the memory of his face fading from my eyes. My ears were precisely tuned to hear his name from even the faintest sound. It drove me mad.

  Two terribly long weeks later, I was at the hospital tending to a patient when one of my fellow nurses rushed into my ward. “Hurry! Clean up this mess. Senhor Garibaldi is here, visiting the hospital.”

  When I looked at the nurse in stunned silence, she hurried over to me, shooing me from my patient. I tried to get out of her way as casually as I could in an attempt to slip out of the hospital without anyone noticing me. I stopped short when I heard voices. Garibaldi and an entourage of people walked into my ward, blocking my only route of escape.

  “Dona Anna, what a pleasure to see you again.” Garibaldi bowed.

  “Senhor Garibaldi,” I responded with a nod of my head.

  “I was hoping I would see you again.”

  “I suppose it’s good that one of us is getting their wish,” I snapped.

  “It is a beautiful day. Do you think you could give me a tour of the garden? I understand it is quite impressive.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but one of the other nurses spoke up. “Senhor, if you want to see the gardens, I do believe Dona Francesca would be a better guide.”

  “No,” Garibaldi said. “I would prefer for Dona Anna to be my escort.” He turned to his entourage. “You will not be needed.”

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nbsp; “Very well,” I said, suddenly feeling every eye on me. “This way, please, senhor.”

  I led him out the doors to the garden. When we were out of hearing range of the others, I turned on him. “What do you think you are doing?”

  “Asking for a tour of the garden,” he responded coyly.

  “Don’t you act charming with me, Senhor Garibaldi,” I said, pointing a finger at him. “I know very well that you have no interest in plants.”

  “And how do you know that? Botany could be my hobby.” He had the audacity to look offended. Though the corner of his mouth tilted upward ever so slightly.

  I huffed in frustration. “A sailor interested in botany makes about as much sense as a farmer designing cathedrals.”

  Garibaldi tried to stifle a laugh.

  “Well?” I asked with my hands on my hips, squinting at him in the bright afternoon sun. “Will you give me an honest answer, or shall I go back to my work?”

  He looked down and kicked at an unseen pebble. “I can’t get you out of my head,” he said, looking back up at me with large eyes. “Why do you haunt me?”

  I took a few steps back, feeling the shock of the words he said. “Most likely for the same reason you haunt me, but it doesn’t change anything.”

  “I don’t want to ruin your reputation—”

  “Yes, because asking to speak with me in the garden by myself is not going to ruin my reputation. People talk. You have done plenty of damage already.”

  “If you would let me finish, I was going to say that I don’t want to ruin your reputation, but I want to work around this unfortunate matter.”

  “‘Unfortunate matter’?” I shook my head. “Is that what we are calling it? I will not be your whore.”

  Garibaldi looked stunned by my words. “I would never…I have never…”

  “I did not mean to be so harsh, but don’t I get a say in these unfortunate matters, as you call them? I wasn’t the one who wanted to get married in the first place. I wasn’t the one who chose to leave my family. A man gets to go out and live the life that he wants, but me? I have to live by the whims of men who want to work around my unfortunate matters.”

  “Well then, tell me, Anna, what do you want?”

  “Freedom.” I threw my hands up in the air and looked at him. I no longer felt the strength to fight. “You.”

  He was by my side in just two steps. His arms were around my waist. The smell of fresh ocean and sandalwood engulfed me. “Then I believe it is time you make your own rules,” he whispered against my lips.

  His eyes held me in a trance. I placed my hands on his broad chest. I could feel his heart pounding in time with mine. As Garibaldi leaned down, I slid my hands up his neck, tangling my fingers in his curls. He pressed his lips against mine, drinking me in.

  Giuseppe pulled an eyelash’s length away, making me immediately feel the pain of his absence. “The families of the soldiers are camped out to the south of the docks. You should join us there, tonight.” Unable to speak, I nodded yes.

  He stepped away, placing his hat back on his head. “I look forward to seeing you again.” He flashed me a boyish, lopsided smile that made my knees weak. I touched my fingers to my lips; they still throbbed from his kiss as I watched him stride away.

  Seven

  July 1839

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror, running a comb through my hair for the third time that afternoon. As I brushed my long locks, I thought over my scheme to make sure I wasn’t noticed. For all that my family knew, I was going to be spending the evening with my respected friends. I plaited my hair in a braid and repeated my practiced speech: I am going to the Da Gatos’ for dinner. I expect to spend the night.

  My mother didn’t even look up from the black beans that she stirred as I walked into our cramped kitchen. I made my announcement, expecting to elicit a suspicious response from her, but I got none.

  “Too bad the Da Gatos can’t adopt you. Has your ability to manipulate people started to slip?” Maria sneered.

  “Go to hell,” I said to her as I made my way through the kitchen.

  “You first, sister.” Maria turned back to her mending.

  “Oh, will you two stop?” Our mother whipped around, shaking her spoon at us. “I swear, I never have a moment’s peace when both of you are here!” Bits of bean flew from the spoon. “Anna, if you are going to leave, then leave already! Stop causing so much trouble.”

  “Why am I the one getting yelled at?”

  “Because whenever there is strife in this family, you’re the one to blame!”

  I tried to shake off my confrontation with my sister as I made my way to the Farrapos’ campsite. Dirty sailors moved about as they settled in for their dinners with their wives, women who looked as worn out as the men they catered to. It was in the center of the camp that I found Garibaldi, surrounded by a group of friends. Their shared laughter carried over the business of the camp.

  What if his friends didn’t like me? What if they thought I wasn’t good enough for Garibaldi? I paused and contemplated retreating. This is foolish, I thought, smoothing the pale blue skirt that I usually only wore to church. Did I really expect anything to come of this? Then Garibaldi saw me. A large, warm smile spread across his handsome face and every fear I had evaporated.

  “Anna! You made it.” He walked closer before bending down and gently kissing my hand. My heart fluttered at the tender touch of his lips.

  “This is my fellow countryman, Luigi Rossetti.” Garibaldi pointed to the tall dark-haired man standing next to him. I took in his clean, well-tailored clothing, trimmed in lace. He reminded me of a stern schoolteacher. How could he be a soldier and yet be so immaculately dressed? There wasn’t a single stain or tear.

  Rossetti’s piercing black eyes stared back at me with an air of superiority from over his large nose. His smile was small and polite, barely making his neatly trimmed beard move. “A pleasure to meet you.” He bowed with a flourish as he reached out and lightly kissed my hand, his lips barely brushing my knuckles.

  Garibaldi pointed toward the man standing on the other side of Rossetti. “This is our resident norte-americano, John Griggs.” Griggs wasn’t quite as tall as Rossetti. He had a pleasant air about him, with eyes that looked like he had just woken up from a deep sleep. His smile was charming as he tipped his hat, revealing a full head of curly dark-blond hair.

  “So, this is the girl that you’ve had your eye on since we sailed into port?” Griggs’s smile widened as Garibaldi’s face flushed pink. I looked back and forth between the men. “Normally a man uses his telescope to look out over the ocean. Not up into the hills to spy on a certain lady who likes to spend her siestas on her balcony,” Griggs teased.

  Before Griggs could say another word, Garibaldi led me by the arm to a spot by the fire. The flames burned brightly, casting an orange-gold light over everyone. The smell of roasting meats and smoke intermingled with the sweet sea air. There were people moving about, tending to their own fires and needs, but Garibaldi paid them no mind as he doted on me. Every few moments he stood to grab something more for me to eat or drink.

  When he shifted his weight to stand up again, I reached out, putting a hand on his arm to calm him. I swallowed a bite of bread with concerted effort. “Please, Senhor Garibaldi, I am fine. Just sit.”

  He smiled, settling back down. “My friends here call me José. You can do the same,” he stammered. “That is, I do hope you would call me a friend.” His face turned red before he dropped it into his hands. “I am making a fool of myself, aren’t I?”

  I laughed. “No more a fool than I am being.”

  He suddenly grew serious. His eyes bored into me. “I would never think of you as a fool.” This time it was my turn to blush.

  Soon a group gathered around the campfire, consisting of myself, José, Griggs, and Griggs’s woman, Ruthie. Ruthie had joined the camp to be with Griggs. An Indian girl, she was so slight in stature she barely reached Griggs’s shoulder
. She had a sly smile and hawk eyes that seemed to take in everything. Rossetti eventually joined us too, sitting at a small table a short distance from our little circle. His face was buried in a notebook that he furiously wrote in.

  As we sat by the campfire under the dying light of day, Griggs rubbed his large callused hands together and began to tell the story of how he and José fought off a group of Austrian mercenaries employed by the Imperial army. They had managed to capture the colonel leading the division who was not the most amiable of people.

  “Now, we thought we had this colonel secured, but the sneaky bastard broke free, scaring the horses to distract us. Like fools, we all went after our animals,” Griggs said, at the edge of his seat, his hand flailing about as he told the story. “Little did we know said distraction was a signal to his friends.”

  “Meanwhile, I was with my cook. We were away from the rest of the camp,” José interjected, turning to me. “He got the finest yerba mate from Argentina. A rare variety that only grows in the north.” He turned back to Griggs. “That cook couldn’t do much, but damn could he make a great cup of tea.”

  “I swear, I still dream about his feijoada—sorry, Ruthie.” Griggs gave Ruthie a kiss on her temple. “But he was godawful with a gun.”

  “‘Godawful’ isn’t a strong enough word,” José responded. “Anyway, my cook and I are sitting down enjoying this tea.” He turned back to me. “He and I had been talking about it for weeks. We needed a nice calm moment to truly savor it. Cook pours the first bit of water and we are waiting on the edge of our seats for it to seep into the leaves when we hear the infantry call. I turn and there is this wall of Austrian cavalrymen racing toward us.”

  I gasped, lifting a hand to my mouth, which encouraged José to go on. “Now, one would think that with all those targets, Cook would be able to hit one, just one of those soldiers on horseback, but he couldn’t do it!”

  “No, surely he at least shot a horse?” I asked in amazement, looking from José to John Griggs. “I was five years old when I picked up my first gun and I could certainly hit the large targets.”