“You make mate like a real Brazilian.” I fumbled with my hands, not sure what to do with them.

“Thank you.” He smiled as he poured a small amount of cool water into the gourd. “I only drink tea and I quite like your yerba mate.”

“No alcohol?” I asked, watching him pour hot water.

“No, I find it clouds my judgment too much,” he said with a wave of his hand. “You have heard so much about me. I want to know about Anita.”

“Anita?” I asked. “Have you forgotten my name already?”

José blushed. “No, only, in my country, when a girl becomes a woman we add ‘-ita’ to her name. Flora becomes Florita; Anna, Anita; and so on.”

“And you think my name should be changed?”

“Well, yes. I have no interest in girls.”

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. I could hear the dying activity of the day outside, the jingle of equipment being cleaned up, the hiss of doused fires. José approached me, drawing my attention back to him as he slowly slid an arm around my waist. I could feel him shake ever so slightly as he pulled me closer. The tip of his nose grazed my cheekbone before his lips found mine. I savored everything about him, from the scratch of his beard to the sandalwood scent that engulfed me. Willingly, I let him lead me to his bed.

José was tender; I could barely feel his fingers as they caressed me, lulling me, making me want to pull him closer to me. I trembled as he expertly undid the buttons of my blouse, his lips never leaving my mouth.

Afterward, I lay on my back with José’s arm draped over my waist. He slept on his side, softly snoring. Absentmindedly stroking his arm, I listened to the sounds that lingered in the air from the camp outside. The footsteps of the guards crunched through the dry grass. Birds began to sing in an attempt to lure the sun back from its slumber.

I looked at the man sleeping next to me, my eyes tracing the scars across his chest and neck. The Great Garibaldi, they called him. He was the savior of the people. I couldn’t help but wonder, What happens next? Would I follow him, like the other women who followed their husbands? Would he leave me behind? Surely he knew there couldn’t be much of a future with me. My stomach began to knot as reality set in.

José stirred, stretching his body alongside mine. He watched me for a few minutes before kissing my shoulder. “You look troubled,” he said, his voice rough from sleep.

“No,” I lied through my smile.

He sat up on his elbow, studying me. “You are lying.”

“No.” I tried to laugh.

“Oh, now you are lying even more. I can tell when you lie, you get these little wrinkles, right here.” He ran a thumb over my forehead. Stroking my cheek, he watched me. “I’ll let you escape with this little lie, just this once.”