“Can we really do what the Medici family failed to do? Can we create a united Italy?”

Rossetti smiled. “The Garibaldis will be the new Medicis.”

José smiled and feigned bashfulness. “Some people would consider that blasphemy.”

“You know what Machiavelli says: ‘A prudent man should always follow in the path trodden by great men and imitate those who are most excellent.’” José joined in with Rossetti in reciting from Machiavelli, “‘So that if he does not attain to their greatness, at any rate he will get some tinge of it.’”

Rossetti leaned forward in his chair. “We can pick up where these great men left off. Brother, there can be an Italy within our lifetime.”

This talk of Italy made me sick. I got up from the table, stretching. “I’ll see you in bed, my love.” I kissed José on the head and left the room. Lying in bed, I waited for sleep to overtake me.

I was standing on a cliff, the wild wind blowing my hair into my face. I was alone. Truly alone. José was gone. Rossetti had taken him to Italy, and he was never coming back. My child and I had nothing left to live for. I stared down into the abyss. Suddenly the canyon looked even deeper than it had originally. Pebbles echoed as they tumbled down the rocky slope. I lifted my foot, taking a step forward…

I woke with a start. The dream felt so real that my hand shook as I poured water from the porcelain pitcher into the basin. I splashed the cold water on my face. Looking out the window I marveled at the brightly shining stars that stood out in contrast to the ink-black sky. My eyes scanned the heavens when José came into the room.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were awake.”

“It’s no matter,” I said, setting my towel down and returning to bed.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.” I got into bed, making a point not to look at him.

“All right then,” he said, lying down on the other side. “I don’t know what I did, but whatever it was I am sorry.”

I didn’t want to be angry. I didn’t want to argue, but I couldn’t sleep. My blood pumped so fast that I could feel it coursing through my veins. I sighed.

“It wasn’t what you did. It was what you said.”

“What did I say?” he asked, sounding honestly bewildered.

“Your talk of Italy.” I tried to make myself comfortable, punching my pillow.

“Anita, I don’t understand. We were only talking about going home.”

I rolled over to look at him, giving in to the inevitable fight. “You talked about running off to start another war. You haven’t even finished with this one and now you want to leave us? Finish what you started,” I spat.