The Woman in Red

by Diana Giovinazzo

  A westerly wind swept through the still village. I raised my head and took a deep breath. Something was stirring, I could feel it as the hairs on my arms began to stand up on their own. I slowly walked away from the house.

  Keeping to the shadows, I crept farther and farther away. My steps quickened once I reached the path. I briskly walked at least four miles. My feet swelled. The muscles in my back seized. A pinching sensation shot up from the right side of my pelvis to my shoulder blade. I jammed my thumb into one of the aching muscles in a vain attempt at relief. Just when I thought I couldn’t carry on, I spotted a cottage in the distance. I ran to the door, praying that someone would be home and they would take pity on me.

  “The devil himself better be on the other side of that door.” An old woman wrapped in a dressing gown clutched a shawl to her chest as she opened the door. Her sleeping cap was tilted on her wild, graying black hair.

  “I may not be the devil, but I do need help,” I begged.

  “Estella, who is at the door? Is it the devil?” Another woman appeared behind her. She had similar features as Estella, only more delicate.

  “No devil, just a woman.” Estella looked me over, finally resting her eyes on my stomach. “And she’s pregnant!”

  “Well, bring her inside, don’t be such a totó,” the other woman said.

  Estella pulled me inside as I continued to ramble. “I’m running from the Imperial army. Can you please let me rest for just a little bit? I promise I won’t stay long.”

  Estella made a noise. “You’ll stay the night.”

  “But the soldiers—”

  “The soldiers will be looking for you no matter where you go. Might as well fill your belly and get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Estella, is she staying the night?”

  “Yes, Lydia, get the ham out,” Estella responded.

  “Get the handle to what?” Lydia asked.

  “HAM! HA-AM, Lydia, she’s famished!”

  “Oh, ham, you should have said that.” Lydia shuffled over to the cupboard as Estella shook her head.

  “Please excuse my sister, her hearing is not what it used to be,” Estella said to me.

  “You’ll have to excuse my hearing,” Lydia said, coming to me with a plate of salted ham.

  “I just told her that!” Estella shouted. Lydia looked at her with a blank expression, shaking her head. “I just— Oh, never mind.” Estella threw her hands up in frustration. “Would you like some fruit, dear?”

  “No, I am fine. Thank you,” I said, letting my eyes wander over the humble whitewashed walls of the kitchen, yellowed from age. A benevolent Virgin Mary stared down at me from the opposite wall. The lump of ham stuck in my throat. I bet you never put your baby in danger, I grumbled to myself as my eyes lingered on the saint. This child that grew inside me still felt like an abstract stranger, yet I felt the violent urge to protect him. If only I didn’t keep putting him in danger in the first place.

  “What did she say?” Lydia asked, bringing my focus back to the kind old women who tended to me.

  Estella pointed to her lips. “Thank you!” she yelled, overenunciating.

  Lydia smiled and nodded. “Not every day is your birthday,” she said as she brought me more food. I laughed a little, feeling relieved for the first time in days. Estella sat across from me as Lydia continued to bustle around the kitchen, setting more plates on the table despite my protests. I took Estella’s cue and let Lydia be.

  “I surmise from what you’ve told me that they won’t know you’re gone until the morning,” Estella began.

  I nodded in agreement. “They left me alone until the morning, when they brought me breakfast.”

  “Then you will need to be out of here just after dawn. I’ll have the horse ready for you.”

  “Oh no, I can’t take your horse.”

  “Nonsense, child. Where are we going to go?” Estella gestured toward the cluttered kitchen. “The village is desolated; we have no need for him now.”

  “Really, Estella, your hospitality is too much.”

  She waved her hand in dismissal. “The Imperial army has taken everything from my village. The only reason we haven’t left is because Lydia wouldn’t be able to handle it. My sister and I have lived here our whole lives. I would rather our Guapo go with you than with those bastardos.”

  I ate until I was full and spent another ten minutes convincing Lydia that I couldn’t take another bite. Feeling very content, I let Estella order me to her bed, where I drifted off into a very deep sleep.

  Twenty

  The next morning, I woke to a rooster crowing with all his might outside my window. I wandered out to the kitchen, where Lydia shoved a thick slice of bread with guava jam in my face. I was not allowed to leave her presence until I took a bite. “Mmm, very good,” I responded through a mouthful as Lydia looked on with the pride of a mother at a job well done.

  Estella was behind the house in their small stable. Guapo turned out to be a massive black steed. The horse tossed his shimmering silky mane from side to side. I approached slowly, and he settled as I stroked his muzzle. His nostrils flared with angry huffs of air. “Are you sure it’s all right that I take your horse?”

  “What are a couple of old women going to do with a horse like this?” She shook her head as she stroked the horse’s flank. “Guapo needs to run. His packs are full with everything you’ll need for the next few days, or at least until the next town.”

  I wrapped my arms around Estella’s neck, hugging her with all my strength. “Thank you,” I murmured into her hair with tears in my eyes.

  She patted my back. “Take care of yourself and that baby.”

  Knowing it was only a matter of time before the Imperial soldiers would come searching for me, I climbed onto the horse and kicked my heels into his sides. Guapo relished the opportunity to run. He leaped easily over fallen logs and rocks as we escaped into the forest.

  He was a beast freshly released from hell and I his demon. We ran so fast that I didn’t pay attention to the road ahead of me, trusting in Guapo’s skill. Charging through the ambush, I laughed as the men launched themselves out of our way. They scattered like birds, screaming for God to save them from Atiola.

  I smiled into Guapo’s mane. They thought of me as Atiola. I didn’t think I could be prouder.

  Once I was a safe distance away I decided to take a rest in the heat of midday. I let Guapo seek out sweet grass while I sat in the shade and ate some of the food from the pack. I knew José’s army was going to be south of me, I just didn’t know how far south. My only concern was that I get to the rebel army before they moved.

  I may have been out of immediate danger, but I would not feel at peace until I found the Farrapos. I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder as I got on Guapo’s back. I didn’t trust my surroundings; even the shadows had a threatening edge.

  The sun was setting when I came upon two Farrapos scouts.

  “Anita? Is that really you?” João, one of the scouts, asked in disbelief.

  “You have no idea how happy I am to see you both.” My heart pounded with relief. “Am I close to the camp?”

  They both nodded. “It’s just a few miles south. When you get to the fork in the road, go left. We were headed back toward the Imperial encampment. We were going to find a way to rescue you, which clearly we no longer need.”

  “There is a cottage with two women, north of here. They helped me escape. Please, make sure they are all right.”

  “We will do what we can,” they said in near unison.

  Night had fallen by the time I reached the rebels’ camp. As I rode through, the men crossed themselves, staring at me from their fires. Rossetti paused on his way to the main tent, a bundle of papers in his arms. He did a double take before throwing them to the ground. “Anita!” He ran up to me as I dismounted from my horse.

  “May God be praised!” He wrapped me in a large hug. I was momentarily shocked. Physical affection of any kind was
uncommon with Rossetti. “José has been inconsolable,” he whispered in my ear.

  I followed Rossetti into the tent. The men were standing around a large table with maps. Rossetti coughed softly and they looked up. They froze when they realized I was there.

  “Anita?” José whispered. His brow wrinkled as if he didn’t trust his eyesight.

  “Hello,” I said.

  He pushed everyone out of his way as he came to me. Grabbing the sides of my head, he kissed me. Pulling away, he began to examine me, his hands searching everywhere. “You’re all right?” he asked as he continued to inspect me.

  “Yes,” I said, taking his hands in mine and kissing his knuckles.

  “And the baby? I heard you fell.”

  I put his hand to my stomach, where the child kicked. “We are fine. We just had a little adventure.”

  He wrapped me in a massive hug. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

  “I make no promises.” I laughed into his shoulder. His grip tightened as he buried his face in my hair, the muffled sound of his breath sucking in in sharp bursts.

  * * *

  That night we lay face-to-face, holding on to each other. José gripped my waist as if I would disappear if he let go. Later, I awoke by myself. My momentary confusion passed when I heard the voices of José, Rossetti, and Canabarro talking outside our tent.

  “We can’t continue this campaign,” Rossetti stated. “I know she thinks she is indestructible, but a woman in her condition has no business hiking around south Brazil, let alone fighting in a war.”

  “I know, but I won’t be separated from her.” This time it was José talking. “I thought I lost her once. I won’t risk it again.”

  “We understand. We really do.” Canabarro’s harsh voice. “That’s why I am suggesting you and Rossetti take a regiment. You can scout the western region for us.”

  “I’ll not let others do my work for me,” José demanded.

  “They won’t. You can lead a reconnaissance mission while you wait for the baby to come,” Canabarro insisted.

  “José, we need to go somewhere safe so that she can have the baby,” Rossetti said. “Who knows what damage the infant took when Anita fell? I know a family from the old country living in São Simão; the wife is a midwife. Think about your wife and child, brother.”

  I got up from the bed and walked outside the tent, where the men argued so intensely that I stood there unnoticed.

  “When all is well you can meet the rest of the army back at the front,” Canabarro tried to reason with José.

  José ran a tired hand over his face. “I just don’t know if Anita will agree to it.”

  Standing in the shadows, I thought about Rossetti’s words. I didn’t know what was in store for us in São Simão. Other wives and children followed their husbands, but they never followed them into battle. My hand caressed my stomach as I remembered the fall.

  I was lucky. The baby still kicked, but who knew if he would be born with any permanent damage. Could José and I risk the well-being of this child again?

  “I’ll go.” The men looked up at me in surprise.

  “Anita, tesoro mio, what are you doing up?” José rushed to me as if I were an invalid.

  “I figured that if my fate was to be the subject of discussion, I should have a say,” I said, taking a step back. I refused to be treated like a fragile piece of china. Gauchos such as myself were made of stronger stuff than this, but I had to protect this child. “We have more to think about now than you and me. We will go to these friends of Rossetti’s.”

  Twenty-One

  September 1840

  As we rode in along the banks of the Rio Corrente, I marveled at the rugged beauty. The river was flanked by brown flatlands spotted with low green foliage. The winds whipped past us with a vengeance. The trees that were scattered along the grasslands bowed in reverence to the wind’s power. We had a very small garrison along with a herd of cattle given to us as a form of payment. The Farrapos were running out of money and had resorted to paying the soldiers any way they could.

  The Costa home was nestled within the small river community of São Simão. The settlement consisted of a smattering of cabins with a wide-open prairie where cows lazily chewed the long yellow grass.

  When José, Rossetti, and I arrived at the Costas’ door, Antonia was already out front waiting for us. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her wide hips. Her black hair was pulled into a knot at the nape of her neck, though a frizzy halo of black curls framed her face. As soon as I dismounted Guapo, Antonia had her hands all over my stomach, pressing at various places.

  “Good. The baby seems to be in the right position, but we should prepare for your confinement. Come inside, I have your room ready.”

  “We still have unloading to do.”

  “Nonsense, let the men take care of that.” Antonia waved me off. “You need your rest, Dona Anita. When this child comes you will never be able to rest again.” Suddenly she was distracted by something behind me. “Patrizio! Get down from that wagon this instant! Paulo, get your son down from there before he drives the whole army into the river.”

  A portly bald man with wire-rim spectacles, who I assumed was Paulo, walked calmly over to the giggling child who wiggled like a cat as his father threw him over his shoulder. Antonia turned back to me. “And that is why you need to take your rest now, while you can. It’s been nine years since I’ve had a moment to myself. Your boy will be a handful, as most boys are.”

  “You’re certain it’s a boy?”

  “Yes, dear. Don’t you know when a mother glows that means she will have a boy? When she fades, she will have a girl, because a girl takes her beauty from her mother. It’s something my mother taught me, hasn’t failed me yet.” She cupped a hand to my cheek. “And you, my dear, are gleaming.”

  In total the Costas had five children. Giorgia, nine, and Beatrice, seven, had both begun assisting their mother in the midwife trade. Then there were the three boys that were an oncoming storm. The five-year-old, Dante, was the ringleader. He kept an eye on both his younger brothers, Patrizio and little Paulo, but also led them into trouble at every opportunity. I watched the boys with trepidation and joy as they ran around in front of the house like a pack of puppies, trying to picture my own black-haired child among them.

  We settled into life in São Simão quickly. While I turned myself over fully to Antonia and her care, allowing myself to be her humble student, José spent his days tending to our new herd of cattle. One morning I stepped outside to find him petting the nose of one of our cows while she took hay directly from his hand.

  “You would have made a good gaucho,” I said, coming up to stand next to him at the fence.

  “You think so?”

  I reached out and petted the soft nose. The faint smell of milk drifted in the air as the cow’s large eyes watched me. “The country life suits you.” The cow nudged José’s arm, looking for more food. “And you have a way with animals.”

  He laughed lightly, feeding the cow the last of what he had. He was quiet for a moment as he looked out into the field. The grass danced in the wind that pushed puffy white clouds through the sky. “Yes,” he finally said. “I could have made a fine gaucho.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “If only Destiny didn’t have other plans in mind.” José buried his face in my hair, breathing in deeply.

  Destiny. She was an old crone weaving a tapestry out of my life. I wondered as we looked out over the field if we could be happy with a life like this, or if we were too used to Destiny’s influence over us.

  Supper was a grand affair in the Costa household. Antonia and her daughters brought in platefuls of roasted vegetables and pastas, which were a new delicacy to me. I wasn’t allowed to help but was given the first share of every dish, whether I liked it or not. It was another rule of Antonia’s: An expectant mother had to have the first bite of every dish. “It’s good for the baby,” she said.

  José nudge
d me as we sat at the table one night. “You should learn how to cook from Dona Antonia.” I eyed my husband suspiciously. Suddenly, I envisioned being trapped in a life like my mother’s.

  “Has there been a problem with my cooking up until now, husband?” I asked, passing him a plate of pasta.

  “I’d walk gently if I were you, brother,” Rossetti warned from the other side of the table.

  “All I am saying is that the Costas are the first Italian family you have been around, and it is an excellent opportunity to learn before we go to Italy.”

  I choked on my water. Go to Italy? José never brought up leaving Brazil to me, much less the Americas.

  “Do you remember stoccafisso in agrodolce?” Rossetti asked after washing down his food with a large gulp of wine.

  “Oh, I dream of it,” José said wistfully with a hand to his heart. “There is nothing like it in all the Americas, but what I miss is mussels alla marinara. My mother used to stuff the mussels with anchovies. It was a thing of beauty.” José turned to me. “Just wait until you get to Italy, Anita, you will grow deliciously plump.”

  “If that is what you wish, husband,” I mumbled.

  “We will eat like kings!” Rossetti proclaimed, raising his glass.

  After dinner, while Antonia put the children to bed, we sat around the table discussing the men’s plans for Italy, in the event they got to go back. “Once we have restrengthened the monarchy all of the northern regions will gladly join the cause,” Rossetti said.

  “Cause?” I asked, looking from José to Rossetti. I knew that Austria controlled Italy in the north, but I didn’t know of any active resistance. If there was a struggle, José would want to be there. The question was, would he want me there too?

  “The cause of freedom. Austrian rule is keeping us from uniting. They are corrupt. To question the government is to put your life at risk, like yours truly. Only the rich prosper. Our people are starving while the Austrians pillage our resources. And what the Austrians are doing is the least of our problems; don’t get me started on the hold the pope has over Rome,” Rossetti said.