José’s shoulders sagged as he dropped the pasta he’d been working with on the table. “I know I should be ecstatic. After ten long years of exile I am finally able to go home. But how can I be happy when the men who stood by my side don’t have a stable future? I can’t leave until I know that any man who chooses to stay here is able to put a roof over his head and food on his table.” He wiped the flour from his hands, looking at me with exasperation. “What am I to do?”

I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding him to me. “You will do what you always do.”

“And what is that, tesoro mio?” he asked, kissing the top of my head.

“You will force these European officials who seem to think they know better to take your advice.” I looked up at him, resting my chin on his chest. “You’ll use your Garibaldi charm to make them see your way or run them through with a sword. Whichever comes first.”

José let out an uncontrollable giggle before pulling me away. “You know me so well.”

I shrugged. “It’s a talent.”

José kissed me just as Menotti came back into the kitchen, dragging his sister behind him. He grimaced when he saw us.

I pulled away and went over to Menotti. “Would you rather I kiss you?” I grabbed Menotti and began kissing his dimpled cheeks. He giggled as he tried to push me off him.

“Ew, Mamãe!” he exclaimed as he wiped his face.

“Come, my darlings. Let’s all learn to make pasta.” I picked up Teresita. “I have a feeling this is going to be a very valuable skill.” I gave José a coy smile.

Part Four

Italy

Forty-Three

December 1847

Our massive ships set off across the ocean, the hopes of over a hundred Italians propelling us forward, filling the sails and pushing away the clouds. I wished I could be as hopeful as they were, but the truth was that anxiety gripped my chest. I was moving to a land I had heard about in stories.

The only time I felt at ease was when I stood at the bow of the ship with the cold spray of the ocean on my face. Memories of a time when I thirsted for adventure and the lure of the unknown floated back to me on the sea breeze. Breathing in the salty air, I could feel something brewing just beyond the horizon. Rubbing my arms against the gooseflesh, I hoped the lonely crescent moon poking through the clouds wasn’t a bad omen.

A young sailor with several missing teeth ran up to me. “You have to come below right now!” We rushed below to find that Teresita had ravaged a number of trunks in search of Lord knew what. I pulled her out, my snarling little monster, from the tangle of clothing and goods. On top of continuously corralling my two-year-old daughter, I had a fussy sixteen-month-old who seemed to be happy only when we were topside with the crisp fresh air on his skin.