“She’s there now,” Feliciana said. “She’s trying to get word to José about the family.”

A few days later, when I regained my strength, I made my way to my children. My cough still lingered, but I needed to see them. Teresita lay curled up in a crib at the foot of her brother’s bed, whimpering in her sleep. She calmed down as soon as I held her.

Kissing her sweet-smelling head, I whispered a thank-you. If it hadn’t been for her cries, who knew what would have happened to us. Menotti stirred and stretched in his bed, then looked at me. He froze, then blinked as he watched me for a moment before crawling out from under the blankets toward me and Teresita.

I sat on the end of the bed and wrapped my free arm around him. “Where did they take Rosita?” he whispered.

“Rosita went to heaven, my darling.”

He frowned, looking more serious than any five-year-old I’d ever seen. “Will they take me too?”

“No, my love, I won’t let them take you.”

“Or Teresita?”

“Or Teresita.”

He thought for a moment more. “Are you still having the baby?”

“Yes, dear.”

“He won’t know Rosita, though.”

“No, my darling boy, he won’t.”

“That’s very sad.” He rested his head against my arm. “Don’t worry, Mamãe, I’ll tell him all about her.”

I kissed his forehead. “Thank you.”

I needed to take care of Rosita, one last time. The next day, Marco helped me outside to a waiting carriage. We rode slowly through the semideserted streets. “Can you stop by my home?” I asked.

Marco nodded, pulling the carriage to the left. He came to a stop in front of our little house. I sat there staring at the front door. I wanted to get up and go in but couldn’t. The house looked back at me, empty and cold. I had faced armies of more than a hundred men; I had stood on a ship, braved a hail of bullets, and never once felt the slightest bit of fear. But the house terrified me. Marco put a hand on my arm. “I can go in for you if you want.”

“Thank you.” I put my hand on his in return. “I need to get Rosita’s doll.”

Marco got up from the driver’s seat and made his way into the house. After a while, he returned with the well-worn porcelain doll carefully held in his hands. He handed it to me before taking the reins. As we rode through the streets to the church I looked down at the doll. My fingers smoothed out her blue floral dress. Her porcelain head sprouted messy brown ringlets. With a shaking hand I petted the stray hairs in a vain attempt to tame them. I smiled to myself, thinking about how much Rosita loved her.

The day José bought the doll for her had been rife with chaos. Menotti and Rosita were bickering every chance they got. Then Teresita fell. She tripped, as all children do, but managed to tear open a large gash on her forehead; there was blood everywhere. And her wails! That child screamed loud enough for all the angels in heaven to hear. I went upstairs and found our savings box sitting empty on our bed. In addition to everything that was happening, I thought someone had robbed us.