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Chapters (73)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Epigraph
  4. Prologue
  5. Part One
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. Six
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Ten
  16. Eleven
  17. Twelve
  18. Thirteen
  19. Part Two
  20. Fourteen
  21. Fifteen
  22. Sixteen
  23. Seventeen
  24. Eighteen
  25. Nineteen
  26. Twenty
  27. Twenty-One
  28. Twenty-Two
  29. Twenty-Three
  30. Twenty-Four
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Part Three
  33. Twenty-Six
  34. Twenty-Seven
  35. Twenty-Eight
  36. Twenty-Nine
  37. Thirty
  38. Thirty-One
  39. Thirty-Two
  40. Thirty-Three
  41. Thirty-Four
  42. Thirty-Five
  43. Thirty-Six
  44. Thirty-Seven
  45. Thirty-Eight
  46. Thirty-Nine
  47. Forty
  48. Forty-One
  49. Forty-Two
  50. Part Four
  51. Forty-Three
  52. Forty-Four
  53. Forty-Five
  54. Forty-Six
  55. Forty-Seven
  56. Forty-Eight
  57. Forty-Nine
  58. Fifty
  59. Fifty-One
  60. Fifty-Two
  61. Fifty-Three
  62. Epilogue
  63. Author’s Note
  64. Acknowledgments
  65. Discover More
  66. Reading Group Guide
  67. Discussion Questions
  68. ESSAY FROMDIANA GIOVINAZZO
  69. Antoinette’s Sister
  70. Chapter One
  71. Chapter Two
  72. About the Author
  73. Praise forThe Woman in Red

“Yes, you can.” I turn to find Anita perched on the bed, her hands neatly folded in her lap. That smirk, the one that lights her eyes, tells me she is set for mischief. “You will walk out this door and sign the treaty that will create a unified Italy.”

My shoulders sag as I relent. “I have sacrificed so much to get here, for this moment.” I look into her dark eyes. “I should never have let you leave Brazil with me. If you had stayed…”

My wife scoffs. “You couldn’t keep me in Brazil even if you tried. You know very well I would have followed you to the end of the earth and back.”

“I was selfish in the pursuit of my dream. I cost so many lives.” I stare down at my boots, too ashamed to meet her gaze.

“You are only selfish if you think that the dream of a free, unified Italy was yours and yours alone.” She rises from the bed and moves toward me.

“I can’t do this without you,” I finally admit.

“Who says I’ve left?”

My wife fades as a soft knock interrupts us. “Father?” Menotti enters, his dark eyes, his mother’s eyes, full of concern, looking me over. “Are you ready? They are waiting for you.”

He’s wearing his new uniform, his cap tucked under his arm. His wavy black hair is neatly combed away from his face, revealing the scar that runs along the side of his forehead. He’s a young man now. The future is for him and his comrades.

“Almost.” I pick up the old red shirt from the bed. It’s more of a rag now, faded from the years of use. I pass it through my fingers, letting the warm memories of my wife move through me. I tie it around me. “Now I’m ready,” I say as I follow my son out the door.

Anita’s last words hang in the air as I leave. “Take care of the children.”

Author’s Note

It would be nice if life moved in the arch of a perfect plot, wouldn’t it? Our story begins, we have the central conflict, and all comes to a glorifying end with a perfectly wrapped bow. Only, life is not that simple, especially for Anita Garibaldi.

When I set out to tell this story I did all that I could to remain as close to her truth as possible, relying heavily on her memoirs as she told them to her friend, Feliciana—a woman that we should all be eternally grateful for. But certain things had to be changed: Battles were compressed in order to tell a coherent narrative. Birthdates of her children, particularly Ricciotti’s, were adjusted, as were the births and deaths of her two brothers.