“Does this mean that you are going to Milan?”

“No, it’s pointless, Austria has dug itself into the city.” José guzzled the remaining tea. “Contrary to popular belief, tesoro mio, I have not been vacationing here in Nizza. I have a plan. We are going to the Alps!”

“The Alps? Are you mad? You’ll be taking the fight directly to their door.”

“Precisely.” One corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. “I’ll be cutting off their supply line while simultaneously drawing them away from Milan. It’s going to be brilliant!”

I took his head in my hands. “If you go off and do this, promise me that you will do things your way. You won’t let them influence you like they did before.”

“Believe me, I will.”

“No, José, I mean it. It’s time to put your red shirts back on. Forget what the nobility says, you do what you think is right.”

José kissed me in response. “I have work to do.” And with that he left for the day, ignoring his mother.

* * *

As our time progressed in Nizza, more of our comrades appeared at our doorstep, including our dear Paolo, carrying with him Teresita’s dollhouse and plenty of other toys for the children. Standing a short distance behind him was a man with a messy crop of black hair and a well-trimmed beard.

“Anita, may I present Giacomo Medici.” The man bowed before entering the apartment. A descendant of the famed Medici family, he felt the burden of a legacy that was built long before he came into existence. Giacomo swore to do the one thing the Medicis had failed to do, unify Italy. His legion, named for his family, adopted José’s red shirts as a sign of unity.

Every evening more and more officers gathered at the Garibaldi house as they made their preparations. Mamma Garibaldi’s moodiness came in waves. Some days she enjoyed having José’s friends over. It reminded her of Peppino’s younger days. She fussed, making sure everyone had full bellies.

Other times she complained there were too many people in her house. She’d poke her head into the dining room, where they focused over maps and planned their strategy. She’d mumble something about wanting to be able to have her supper and then shuffle off to her bedroom.

The men gathered their provisions together, including making new red shirts. The night before they left, I slept with José on his ship. They were leaving the fleet here in Nizza for their march to the Alps. Using uncharted roads, they hoped to surprise their enemy.

“Remind me again why we can’t have a home of our own?” I asked him.

“Because being a patriot sometimes means sacrificing a salary that would help me take care of a growing family.” He kissed my forehead. “Anyway, it is good for the children to know their grandmother.”

I grumbled as I nestled closer to him. I hated living with his mother, but I knew our welfare was at the whim of kind benefactors, at least for now. “Promise me that once this is all over, we will have our own home.”