I lowered my eyes to look over the harbor. “As God is my witness, if I get to leave here again, I will grab the opportunity by the mane and never let go.”

* * *

Early one morning, at the end of the week, I arrived at Manuela’s house to help her tend to the grapes that ran along the edge of her property. The smell of the ocean thick on the brisk air. We moved about the grapevines, trimming back the unruly leaves and harvesting what fruit we could before heading back to the warmth of her home at midday. “Will we be eating these for lunch?”

“Yes, though I was thinking I would give some to the church to hand out to the poor,” Manuela said, picking up her basket. “That’s assuming you won’t be eating them all before we get in the house.”

“I only stole a few,” I said midchew as I followed.

When we reached the back door, Manuela paused in front of a bush of vibrant yellow flowers. “Go ahead without me, I just love the smell of fresh flowers in the house. These will be perfect on the table.”

I went into the house but stopped quickly. Hector was sitting in his parlor talking to someone. From where I stood, within the safety of the kitchen, I could see Hector but not the visitor.

“I can’t guarantee the cooperation of the magistrate. There are too many loyalists in our ranks.”

“What makes these men so loyal? The rest of Santa Catarina is preparing to join Rio Grande do Sul in war. Laguna will need to go with them or be left behind,” the visitor responded. “Hector, my friend, they must realize that Laguna is going to be the central point for the war, whether they decide to join us or not.”

I could have sworn I had heard that voice before. It was an odd accent, not one from South America, but I couldn’t picture who was speaking. The deep purr made my breastbone vibrate. It dawned on me: I knew who was in the other room with Hector. My feet melted into the floor, and I couldn’t move.

“Anna, you silly girl! What are you doing just standing here?” Manuela shoved me, stumbling, into the parlor. A steady arm reached out and grabbed me by the elbow, keeping me from falling face first into the brown tiled floor. Sheepishly, I looked up into the shining eyes of the mysterious man who had been speaking with Hector: Giuseppe Garibaldi.

Everyone else in the room fell away as I stared into his face. His eyes grew wide as his mouth hung open. Garibaldi stood frozen, bent over me, his grip firm on my elbow where he had caught me.

My heart thumped against my chest like a bird trying to escape a cage. I could feel heat rising up my neck and into my cheeks. My vision rocked like waves in the sea. I tried to swallow but my mouth and throat were dry. My eyes drifted to his throat as his Adam’s apple slowly bobbed.