“That is a very generous offer, senhor.” Manuela smiled politely. A ship was no place for a lady. Women who spent time surrounded by a bunch of sailors were known as putas, whores.
He bowed his head quickly before exiting through the door.
* * *
“Manuela, it would be rude for us to ignore his invitation.” I hurried after Manuela as she carried an armload of sheets down the hospital hallway.
“Anna, it would be inappropriate.”
“Not if you come with me,” I pleaded.
Manuela stopped short in the hall, causing me to nearly bump into her. “Anna, only putas go on ships, with or without a chaperone.”
“No one needs to know,” I responded.
“But they will, Anna. You know as well as I do that this town is full of gossips. If word gets out that I was somewhere inappropriate, Hector could lose his position.”
“Fine.” I sulked. “This was my one opportunity to see the tall ships up close. I’ll never get to do this again.”
Manuela sighed. “All right! I will go with you, but not one word to Hector. Do you understand? Not one word.” She turned and stormed off down the hall. “The things I do.”
Two days later we went to the harbor. Manuela kept looking over her shoulder. “The only reason anyone would notice us is because you are wearing a cloak on a warm spring day. You look odd,” I grumbled.
“Do you think I should take it off so that no one will notice us?”
“No one is going to see us. Nor will they care.”
“You never know,” she hissed. “There are eyes everywhere.”
“Manuela, we are the least interesting people in Laguna. No one will be watching us.”
“Not unless you let this flirtation get out of control.”
I chose to ignore Manuela’s last comment. I didn’t need her to remind me. A relationship with Giuseppe Garibaldi was the last thing I needed. We walked in silence for a few more feet before she added, “You do look nice today, though.”
“Thank you,” I responded. I wore one of Manuela’s old dresses, green with yellow trim. My hair was pulled into a modest chignon. Fidgeting with the sleeves of my dress, I wasn’t paying attention to where we were walking until Manuela placed a hand on my shoulder.
My breath caught in my throat as I spied Senhor Garibaldi’s ship up close, without a crowd of people, for the first time. “It looks like a horse, doesn’t it?” The tall ship sat proudly before us, large and beautiful, the masts reaching to the sun. It gently creaked with the smooth lull of the water. Men moved about the ship, engrossed in their work.
I looked back at Manuela and was disappointed not to see my enthusiasm reflected in her face. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, holding me back as I tried to move toward the ship.
“I have never been on a ship before. This is so exciting.” I tried to pull her forward with me.
“Anna, are you excited about the ship or about Senhor Garibaldi?” I stared at Manuela as she ventured on. “A ship is no place for a woman. We shouldn’t be doing this; we can still turn around.”
I pulled on her arm. “Please, Manuela. I promise I won’t tell your husband if you don’t.”
Reluctantly she followed me onto the ship. Garibaldi paced on the deck but stopped when he saw us. He looked up at us and smiled. “Welcome!” A large smile spread across his face. “Let me show you around the ship.” We let him lead us around as he talked about the ship’s features with pride.
“I have climbed this mast myself, many times. Right up to the crow’s nest at the very top,” he said, slapping the thick wooden pole. “When the ship is at full sail it feels like flying.”
Stepping back, I took in the expanse of the large beam in front of me.
“On a clear day when there are no clouds and the sun glints on the crystal-blue water, you can see for miles and miles, all the way to the horizon.” He spoke as if in a dream. “You really feel like the ocean is yours. It is the most humbling feeling in all the world.”
“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.
I smiled, though my heart broke into a million pieces. “The pleasure is all mine,” I said as I pulled myself away. I went back to Manuela, who suddenly acted as if she were very interested in the structure of a fishing net.
Hooking our arms together, we strode back to shore. I looked over my shoulder and for a moment I thought I saw Garibaldi watching us. Had it been my imagination? What would Giuseppe Garibaldi want with a married woman like me?