Burning Fields

by Alli Sinclair

  The door to Reg’s Pub flew open and banged against the red-brick wall. Ken Ridley staggered out the door, his shirt crumpled, hat askew.

  “Rosheee…” He tried to tip his hat but lost balance and his shoulder hit the wall. A couple of Ken’s cronies lurched forward to hold him up, but they were as drunk as him and they all toppled onto the footpath. Ken got up, straightened himself and tentatively walked toward her while she took a step back. He moved into her space again and an alcoholic haze settled around them. “Give me a kishhhhh.”

  “You need to go home, Ken.” She subtly stepped back again, but he lunged forward. Rosie glanced around for the nearest escape route. Why did the streets have to be so deserted tonight?

  “Come on, Rosheee. You and me, letsh go for a walk.” His fingers grasped her elbow and she yanked it away. She looked to Ken’s friends for assistance, but they were too busy ogling.

  “Leave me alone!” she yelled. Ken grabbed her elbow again, his fingers digging deep into her skin. Anger roiled within and she fought to free herself. “Stop it!”

  “Come with me.” Although he slurred, his tone held menace.

  Indignant and scared, Rosie ripped her arm free and bolted across the road. She fully expected Ken and his louts to follow but they took off in the opposite direction. Relief swept through her as she gave up on the idea of Mrs. Daw’s bougainvillea’s and concentrated on getting back to Kitty’s. Fury fueled her steps. Why do men think it’s perfectly fine to harass a woman, especially when she’s alone? What kind of world was this?

  She strode a couple of blocks, her anger growing with every step. Damn these men who think a woman is fair game. If Ken Ridley ever touched her again…

  The sound of arguing made her stop and she looked over to find Ken and his mates shoving an old man. How did Ken get ahead of her so fast? The bastard must have doubled back.

  “Go home, dago. No one wants you here,” said Ken’s mate, who was the size of a gorilla.

  As Rosie drew closer, her heart banged against her chest. Oh no.

  Ken had Luka Abrami by the collar and was leering in his face.

  She could race back to Kitty’s, but there was no guarantee William would be home yet. Besides, if something wasn’t done now, this could escalate very quickly.

  “Ken.”

  He turned and faced her, his thin frame swaying slightly. “What?”

  She forced her tone to remain even. “Please, leave Luka be.”

  He gulped the rest of the beer then threw the empty bottle in the gutter. Glass shattered everywhere. Luka flinched.

  “You an I-tai lover now? Whose bloody side are you on?” He threw his arms outward and Luka quickly stepped away, his eyes wide. Oblivious, Ken continued his diatribe. “They are coming to our country with their wog food and wog ways and trying to turn us into them.”

  Rosie clenched her fists. It would be so easy to lose her temper right now, but she didn’t need to add fuel to Ken’s already out of control fire.

  Damn it. “Italians have been in Australia for decades. You would know this if you took your head out of your arse long enough to look around.”

  Ken’s mates chimed in with “oooh” and scattered snorts of laughter.

  “Luka is not bothering you and he has just as much right to be on the street as we do. Now leave him be.” She placed her hand under Luka’s elbow and noticed his whole body was shaking.

  “Well, he’s in my country and his business is my business.”

  “He’s not harming anyone. Just let him go.”

  “No.” He glanced at his mates who rolled up their sleeves.

  “What would your mother say?” she asked quickly.

  “She…” Ken’s steely glare also held a flicker of hurt.

  Rosie felt terrible for bringing his deceased mother into this, but he had to be stopped in his tracks.

  Luka took a tentative step toward Rosie.

  The gorilla moved forward, but Ken held up his hand. “Leave it.” He turned and faced Rosie. “For now.”

  Ken walked past Luka and slammed into him with his shoulder. Luka kept balance and straightened his back, holding his chin high. Just as it looked like the crisis had been averted, Ken spun on his heels. A large wad of spit left his mouth and landed at Lukas feet.

  “Have a bath, wog.” Ken sneered, then took off with his mates behind him.

  “I am so sorry,” Rosie said to Luka, who had his eyes trained on Ken and his mates as they staggered down the street. “Are you all right?”

  “I am all right.” The slight shake in Luka’s voice didn’t instill any confidence.

  Rosie watched Ken and his posse until they rounded the corner.

  “He pig,” said Luka, his expression a mixture of anger and hurt.

  “Pigs have better manners than him,” she said. “Let me take you back to the Conti’s.”

  Luka nodded then winced and pressed his hand on his belly.

  “Should I get the doctor? Are you hurt?”

  “No. Need rest.”

  “Are you sure? The doctor should be at home.”

  Luka held up his other hand as he sucked in a sharp breath. “Conti home. Grazie.”

  She helped Luka to the ute, every nerve alert in case Ken and his mates showed up again—although she suspected he was now passed out somewhere in a gutter. Hopefully one of the stray dogs used him as a pissing post.

  Rosie couldn’t contain her laugh.

  Luka looked at her questioningly and she said, “One day, Ken Ridley will get exactly what he deserves.”

  Chapter 14

  The next evening Rosie sat on the couch in the living room, trying to read but she couldn’t concentrate. The incident in town with Ken and Luka had played on her mind for days. Tomas had been surprised when she’d turned up at his place unannounced, but when he saw Luka and she’d explained what happened, Tomas had thanked her profusely and whisked Luka into the house. Since then she’d heard nothing, but she hadn’t expected anything different—after all, this was a busy time of year.

  Oh, Tomas.

  She missed his smile. Missed that twinkle in his eye when he laughed. Maybe she should take him up on his offer for a walk and talk. Maybe…

  Tossing the book on the table, Rosie stood and made her way to the screen door. “I’m heading out for a bit.”

  “Tell Kitty we send our love.” Her mother’s voice echoed down the hallway.

  Not wanting to correct her mother, Rosie grabbed the keys off the rack just inside the doorway. Scooting down the steps, she jumped in the ute, turned on the engine and sped down the driveway before she changed her mind. If she got her timing right, he’d be heading out for his walk about now.

  Reaching the hill crest, she pulled over to the side of the road and stared at the Conti’s lights. What if he didn’t mean what he’d said about taking an evening stroll together? What if he was just being polite? Pfft. Her life was full of too many what-ifs.

  “Only one way to find out.” She put her foot down on the peddle but quickly braked when a dark figure appeared from the shadows. “Jesus!”

  The tall man approached her open window.

  “You are very serious about this new career as a racing car driver, no?” Even in the darkness she could see the smile lines around his eyes.

  “Very funny. I thought you would have been farther down the road.”

  “You are looking for me?”

  She nodded, slightly embarrassed.

  “I am so very pleased.” He opened the driver’s-side door and held out his hand to help her. Sure, she was more than capable of getting out of a vehicle herself, but this demonstration of chivalry made her heart flutter. Did this make her a hypocrite? Wanting independence and respect from men but basking in the moments when they treated her like a lady? Was the line as fine as she suspected?


  “So…” Tomas’s eyes connected with hers.

  “So?”

  “Do you always come here?”

  A small laugh left her lips. “Is that a line?”

  “Uh…no…” He removed his hat and scratched his head. “You found me. I…uh…”

  “It’s been a while since we last spoke, so I thought…” She finished it with a shrug.

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  “I miss your company, all right?” she said in haste.

  He furrowed his brows and a small smile graced his lips. “You miss my company but you are angry with me?”

  This was going as well as her short-lived career as an altar girl. “Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind. I was wanting to find out how Luka was.”

  Using Luka as an excuse didn’t sit well, but what other choice did she have? Tell the truth?

  “Oh.” Tomas looked away for a moment then back at her. “I am sorry. It is remiss of me not to inform you.”

  “He’s all right, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, yes, of course. A little shocked from the event. He does not want to go into the town again.”

  “I’m so sorry he feels that way.” She didn’t blame him, though. “Ken Ridley is mean and nasty and just horrible.”

  “I do not share love for him, either.” Tomas shrugged. “But let us not waste time talking about this person. Tell me, what else is on this mind of yours?”

  Rosie breathed in deeply and tried to get her thoughts in order. Would telling him the truth be so bad? Only one way to find out…“I thought your company might cheer me up.”

  Tomas’s large eyes held concern. “You are sad?”

  “Not sad. Just…I don’t really know what I feel right now. There’s so much going on that my head is spinning.”

  “I think you need a walk and talk.” Tomas gestured at the moonlit road in front of them.

  “I think you’re right.”

  He formed a D with his arm and she slid hers through his. He matched his step with hers as they strolled along the dirt road that wound between the cane fields. Rosie was happy to be in the moment, to enjoy the inky sky above, take in the powder-spray of stars and revel in the balmy evening.

  “For someone who said she wishes to talk, you are very quiet.”

  They continued along the road, small clouds of dust trailing behind them. With each footstep, the angst, the frustration, the unfairness of it all bubbled to the surface until she couldn’t contain it any longer. “Life is bloody unfair.”

  Tomas gave a sage nod.

  “Kitty thinks I’m a hypocrite.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I lament about the double standards women suffer in this day and age yet I do nothing about it.”

  “But you are running Tulpil, no?”

  “Exactly!”

  They walked on. Rosie sensed Tomas’s brain ticking over.

  “Out with it.” She nudged him gently with her elbow.

  “What?”

  “I can tell you have something to say.”

  He stopped, gently removed her arm from his and faced her. “You will not like it, I am afraid.”

  A sinking feeling washed over her. “Tell me.”

  “I wonder if your friend Kitty is right.”

  Rosie narrowed her eyes. “About me being a hypocrite?”

  “I do not know if this is the correct word, but you talk a lot about how hard it is for women in Australia. This new position at Tulpil is a chance to prove females are capable of many great things. Will you use this experience to help other women?”

  “How on earth can a farm girl from rural Queensland change the plight of women in this country?”

  He ran his hand along the cane as they continued to walk. “You have already started.”

  “How?”

  “You are running a cane farm!” He threw his arms wide. “How many women do you know who are doing this?”

  She shrugged.

  “Can you not see you are already making a difference?”

  Rosie watched her feet make imprints in the dirt.

  “You have a good heart, Rosalie Stanton. Look at the way you help Kitty.”

  “She’s like a sister.”

  “And look at the way you helped Luka.”

  “I’m only being human.” She stopped and faced him. “What has gone on in your life to have so little faith in the kindness of others?”

  Tomas looked away.

  “Tomas?”

  “Life in Australia is just different.” He kept his eyes trained on the cane growing tall and proud.

  “And?”

  “And that is all.” Once again, talkative Tomas clammed up and she was left wondering why.

  They continued walking, silence enveloping them. When they rounded the bend that led to Tomas’s house, she halted and stared up at the lights shining through the windows. Although it was too dark to see, Rosie imagined the intricate latticework running along the verandah and the rose bushes that had been planted more than fifty years prior to Tomas’s family arriving.

  “Are the roses still growing well?” she asked, desperate to slice through the air of discomfort.

  “You know the house?”

  “Of course! I practically grew up there when the Ellis family owned it.”

  “Yes, I now remember you saying you played there when you were a child.” Tomas appeared lost in thought. “My nonna is only ever at home in the garden.”

  “My grandmother was the same.”

  “She is not with you now?”

  Rosie looked at her broken nails. “I’m afraid not.”

  “I am sorry for your loss.”

  She lifted one shoulder then let it drop. “I was very young when I lost both grandparents. I still miss them, though.”

  “A grandparent is special. I cannot even think about…when…” Tomas shook his head. “I do not want to think about such a thing.”

  “Of course not.” She rested her hand on his arm and he relaxed under her touch. “Do you still have your grandfather?”

  “No.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that. What was he like?”

  The muscles in his arm tensed. “I prefer not to talk about the details of my family.”

  “Why not? I’ll tell you anything you want to know about mine.”

  A wall of reticence shot up between them. Cicadas in the nearby grassland serenaded them, yet the symphony that could have been so romantic was wasted.

  “You know people think it’s strange that you’re the only one from your family who goes into town, right?”

  “Where have you heard this?”

  “People talk.”

  He coughed. “My family are very private people and they prefer to spend all their time at Il Sunnu. Plus, we have employees to run errands into Piri River when I am unable.”

  “All the workers are from your country, right?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “It doesn’t matter to me but it seems to matter a great deal to people in this town. There’s an air of mystery about your family and people like to speculate.” Though, would the townsfolk do this if it were a family that had been in Australia for three generations?

  Tomas stared at her, his expression not relaying a single emotion.

  “Tomas?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t you care that people are talking about your family?” She made sure her tone sounded caring.

  He looked to the heavens for a moment. “Why should I care what people think? They do not know me and I am not here to impress them.”

  “So you don’t care that they think you’ve got some strange connection to Mussolini?” She should have put the brakes on two minutes ago.

  His b
ody stiffened and he stepped back. The convivial bond between them fraying and flapping aimlessly in the breeze.

  Panic clawed within. “Tomas, I’m only repeating what I’ve heard. I—”

  “It is time for me to return to the house.”

  “Tomas—”

  “I am going.”

  She stepped forward and blocked his path. He moved to the side and she got in his way again.

  “Rosalie, let me pass.”

  “No.”

  “Rosalie.” His tone held anger, but she didn’t let it sway her.

  “Tomas, I don’t know you very well but I would hope that you have enough trust in me to talk about this.”

  “Why? So you can tell your Australian friends I am a fascist?” Hurt clouded his handsome face and a ball of regret mixed with frustration pushed against her rib cage.

  “I don’t know what your political allegiances are, Tomas. I don’t know what you believe in. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? No one except your workers—who are all Italian—know your family.”

  “So?”

  “So there are people who don’t trust others who come from countries that were once part of the Axis Powers. Questions are going to be asked.”

  “We joined the Allies in the end,” he said. “Besides, I do not have to answer the questions of anyone.”

  Tomas skillfully dodged her and took off toward Il Sunnu, his long legs carrying him a great distance in a short time.

  “Tomas.” She tried to keep up with him.

  “I am done with talking, Rosalie. Go back to your Australian family—where you belong.”

  Chapter 15

  1943—Palermo, Sicily

  Tomas walked up a street a few neighborhoods from his family home. This trek to the place where Rachel stayed had become part of his routine these past few days. The walk gave him plenty of thinking time to figure out his next move but, to date, none of his ideas had stuck.

  Shoving his hand in the canvas bag hanging from his shoulder, Tomas extracted an orange and peeled the skin to reveal the juicy, orange flesh. He took a bite and memories of the discussion with Nonna came flooding back: What if you peel away the layers, break the orange into sections and deal with it one piece at a time? You’d get through it, no? You’d achieve your goal.