José smiled as he bit into a chunk of bread. “And my boys? How are they?”

I took a deep breath. “Menotti is on his way to your old school in Turin.” José stopped chewing and looked at me. “I hope you don’t mind; they extended a personal invitation and, well, it was either that or he goes to the Catholic school your mother tried to enroll him in.”

José tore his cheese and meat into smaller pieces. “No, I don’t mind. He does have to attend school, after all. I just hope they don’t expel him like they did me.”

“Well, he does take after you, dear husband, so it’s only a matter of time,” I said with a knowing grin. “But it would appear that the Garibaldi name has gone up in favor. Every school is honored to have the Great Giuseppe Garibaldi bless them with the responsibility of educating his offspring.”

José laughed. “I never thought I would live to see the day.”

José quickly regained his strength. I could tell he was on the mend because he grew anxious with being confined to his bed. Often, I would walk into his room to find various maps and documents strewn about his bed. On one such afternoon, I found José thoroughly engrossed in a large map that was spread over his lap.

Books had fallen to the floor, spread open, their pages bent, while a slew of papers were crumpled around his legs. I set the lunch tray I had been carrying on the nearby table and straightened up José’s mess.

“Stop that. I need those,” he demanded without looking up at me.

“But they are thrown on the floor.”

“Only because I have no room on the bed.”

I put my hands on my hips. “José, this is ridiculous.”

He met my eyes. “My work won’t wait. If you would let me get out of this damn bed, I wouldn’t have a mess everywhere.”

I sighed. “Do what you want, but if you fall because you overexerted yourself, don’t come crying to me.”

He smiled. “I wouldn’t think of it.”

That night I sat in on a meeting with the Redshirts. I took a spot in the back corner of the common room, hoping I wouldn’t be noticed. Only officers were allowed in the room for the meeting; however, I was immune to most orders given the status of my husband. The tables were pushed together in order to make one large table for the men to spread their maps across. The campaign along the Alps had been successful. Reinforcements had arrived, strengthening our blockade along the northern border. Now José set his sights on the crown jewel of Italy. He spoke animatedly, his hands going everywhere, emphasizing his words. “We need to strike Rome now!”

“Why now? Shouldn’t we wait until we have a stronger force behind us?” Medici was studying the map, his hand under his chin. “We can go in now, but it will be risky.”