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Chapters (73)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Epigraph
  4. Prologue
  5. Part One
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. Six
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Ten
  16. Eleven
  17. Twelve
  18. Thirteen
  19. Part Two
  20. Fourteen
  21. Fifteen
  22. Sixteen
  23. Seventeen
  24. Eighteen
  25. Nineteen
  26. Twenty
  27. Twenty-One
  28. Twenty-Two
  29. Twenty-Three
  30. Twenty-Four
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Part Three
  33. Twenty-Six
  34. Twenty-Seven
  35. Twenty-Eight
  36. Twenty-Nine
  37. Thirty
  38. Thirty-One
  39. Thirty-Two
  40. Thirty-Three
  41. Thirty-Four
  42. Thirty-Five
  43. Thirty-Six
  44. Thirty-Seven
  45. Thirty-Eight
  46. Thirty-Nine
  47. Forty
  48. Forty-One
  49. Forty-Two
  50. Part Four
  51. Forty-Three
  52. Forty-Four
  53. Forty-Five
  54. Forty-Six
  55. Forty-Seven
  56. Forty-Eight
  57. Forty-Nine
  58. Fifty
  59. Fifty-One
  60. Fifty-Two
  61. Fifty-Three
  62. Epilogue
  63. Author’s Note
  64. Acknowledgments
  65. Discover More
  66. Reading Group Guide
  67. Discussion Questions
  68. ESSAY FROMDIANA GIOVINAZZO
  69. Antoinette’s Sister
  70. Chapter One
  71. Chapter Two
  72. About the Author
  73. Praise forThe Woman in Red

It was late November, and the spring warmth promised that a pleasant summer was on its way. The golden sun shone down on us, making the water glisten. I worked in the river beating and wringing out our clothing. José laid the baby on a blanket in front of him. As I worked, José sang to Menotti in Italian.

“A bi bo, goccia di limone, goccia d’arancia, o che mal di pancia!” José reached out and tickled our son’s belly. That’s when we heard another voice call out.

“Punto rosso, punto blu, esci fuori proprio tu!”

José and I looked at each other in bewilderment. There was a rustling in the bushes next to us. José went rigid. I took a step onto the shore. I could grab the baby if José had to fight in our defense.

A tall man with wavy brown hair that fell over his hazel eyes fought his way out of the bushes like he was clumsily beating back a wild animal. “Buon pomeriggio.” He shook the leaves out of his hair and smiled at us. In that moment, he reminded me of an overgrown puppy. “I heard you singing and I had to stop by. I couldn’t help myself. Another Italian! I love when I get to meet a compatriot on the other side of the world.” José and I continued to stare at him in disbelief. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He wiped his palm on his leg. “I am Francesco Anzani, but everyone calls me Anzani.”

“Giuseppe Garibaldi,” José said, clasping his hand. José still sat on the ground with Menotti, so he had to stretch a bit to reach our new comrade.

“The Giuseppe Garibaldi! As I live and breathe!” he exclaimed, pumping my husband’s hand up and down. “It is a pleasure, no, I mean an honor! You are the reason why I am here.” He still shook my husband’s hand with a vigorous force. “Well, not here exactly, but you are the reason why I do what I do. You are my hero!”

José smiled as he was finally able to remove his hand from Anzani’s grasp.

“I was just a boy when you were exiled. I heard all of your stories. How you stole your father’s ship to take it for a ride along the Amalfi Coast. How you cornered a group of Austrian soldiers, disarmed them, and then left them chained to a post with no clothing on for the whole town to see. That has to be my favorite.”

José blushed a little. “I was a mischievous youth.”

“Mischievous youth? There are some things in this life that don’t change,” I said with a wry smile.

“And you must be his wife, Anita. It’s a pleasure to meet the lovely Senhora Garibaldi.”

“Come sit down and tell me about yourself,” José said, adjusting himself so that he could better see Anzani.