“I can only imagine,” I said, trying to picture what it felt like. I looked back at Garibaldi, who was watching me, making no attempt to look away.

He coughed slightly. “There is something over here I would like to show you.” I followed him to the other side of the ship, cautiously looking behind me to see Manuela distracted by a sailor. I came up to stand next to Garibaldi at the railing of the ship. He was looking out toward the mouth of the lagoon. We watched as small fishing vessels lazily slipped in and out of the harbor. His hands gripped the railing in front of him, almost touching mine. They held on so tightly that I could see the small muscles crisscrossed with tiny veins.

“You are married,” he said, refusing to look at me.

I felt a sinking weight in my gut, like a rock that had been dropped in a pond. For just a little while I wanted to pretend that I was not a marked woman, I wanted this flirtation to keep going. To think that perhaps somehow, some way, life with him could be possible, even if it was pretend. I struggled to suck in a lungful of air against the pressure that was building in my chest as I watched the fantasy of having Giuseppe Garibaldi dissolve into small waves that slapped against the boat.

“Who told you?” I finally asked, refusing to look at him too.

“Hector,” he said, still looking out over the lagoon. “I inquired after you.” He sounded like he had to force the words out of his mouth.

“Oh.” I felt the stab of betrayal. I would never be able to look Hector in the eye again.

“Do you love him?”

“Who?” I asked.

“Your husband.”

“Oh. Him,” I said, annoyed that I still had not rid myself of the albatross that was Manoel. “No. Could you love someone you were forced to marry?”

“I suppose, if time allowed.” He shook his head. “All the same. You are still married.”

I took a deep breath, letting the air slowly escape from between my lips. “If you want to call it that. Manoel was never much of a husband. And now? He could be dead for all I know.”

“He left you?”

“He joined the cavalry about six months ago.”

“You didn’t go with him?”

I looked at Garibaldi, tears threatening to spill out of my eyes. Manoel was gone, but he would continue to haunt me for the rest of my life. I realized this now as I looked into Garibaldi’s handsome bearded face. I was never going to be happy. “And make his meals, wash his clothes, pretend to be happy when he walked off the battlefield? No. I am not his slave. I would rather live as a widow than follow around a man I have no respect for.”

He looked down at me, shocked at the bitterness of my words. “I am truly sorry to hear you feel that way.” He reached out for my hand, still clenching the railing, but I moved it away before he could grasp it. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Anna de Jesus.” His voice wavered ever so slightly.