Burning Fields

by Alli Sinclair

  She moved closer.

  He held her tighter.

  Their lips only inches apart.

  “Please?” Luka tapped Tomas on the shoulder.

  Tomas jolted and Rosie stepped back, her face burning.

  “It would be impolite for me to keep Rosie all to myself, no?” Tomas looked at her apologetically.

  “Yes! Of course I will dance with you, Luka,” Rosie said, a little too enthusiastically. She needed a moment for her temperature to lower, to catch her breath, let her head and heart meet up.

  Tomas gave her a salute as he walked into the shadows. Luka smiled and spun her around, his ancient body more capable than she’d originally thought. Although not fluent in each other’s language, the music and dancing became their method of communication. She couldn’t help but wonder why Luka had chosen Australia. Did he have family and if so, were they still in Italy? Was he working to bring them out here? Or had he lost them in the war, like so many others who had made it to Australian shores? She looked around at the faces of people who didn’t appear to have a care in the world. Was that the case now or were they still battling demons? What were their stories?

  Now was not the time to delve into such things. Instead, she concentrated on basking in the glory of dancing freely and living in the moment. Every so often she caught a glimpse of Tomas, who kept glancing at her, even though he was in deep conversation with an older lady.

  The band finished their set with a flourish and Luka brought Rosie over to a table piled high with fresh produce. Tomatoes, olives, cheeses, dried meats, freshly sliced fruit…

  “Eat.” Luka gestured for her to try a green olive.

  She popped it in her mouth and let it rest on her tongue. A bitter, acidic flavor attacked her taste buds and she tried not to screw up her nose. Luka’s amused expression showed he’d expected such a reaction. Cheeky fellow.

  He pointed to the cheese. “Good.”

  Keen to get the acrid taste out of her mouth, Rosie picked up a small square of cheese and bit into it. Creamy deliciousness danced across her taste buds. It didn’t cancel out the taste of the olive, in fact, it complemented it. She spied a few jars of the green and dark purply-black olives that looked like the ones that had been delivered to their house when her father was first ill. If the contents of those jars were as interesting as what she’d experienced here, she would need to open the jars sooner rather than later.

  Rosie looked over to where Tomas had been standing but he’d disappeared, as had the older lady he’d been speaking with.

  Luka carved off a large chunk of bread and slapped on cheese, salami, tomato and an assortment of pickled vegetables. He handed it to her and she held it with both hands as she tried to figure out how to attack it. Luka busied himself with making one for himself and her stomach grumbled. Opening her mouth, she took a massive bite and tried to chew, but it was a feat nigh impossible. The mixture of flavors appealed to every taste bud. Feeling awkward, Rosie turned away so no one could see her overstuffed mouth, but then she saw Tomas. Right. In. Front. Of. Her.

  “You like it?”

  She nodded, still unable to swallow the chunk of food that had formed a wad in her mouth.

  A painful gulp got rid of it and she forced a smile, praying she didn’t have any remnants on her face.

  “Yes,” she rasped. “It’s delicious.”

  His lips twitched as if trying to contain a laugh. “You are welcome to come here and enjoy our food anytime.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tomas shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced over her shoulder. He frowned and gave a short shake of the head at whoever was behind her. Curious, Rosie turned around and noticed the old woman he’d been talking to earlier. Her gray hair was in a high bun and she wore a simple black dress that skirted her curvy frame. She couldn’t have been much more than five feet four.

  The lady raised her eyebrows and pointed at Tomas, who let out a long sigh. “My nonna wishes to speak with you.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “She’s just…she is one for very strong opinions.”

  “And she has an opinion about me?” Rosie wasn’t so sure she wanted to speak to Nonna now. “Is her English as good as you’ve been telling me?”

  “It is almost better than mine.”

  Tomas’s nonna’s large brown eyes appeared friendly enough. She certainly didn’t seem to be the unwelcoming Italian grandmother cliché she’d heard about.

  “Come on”—Rosie tugged at his hand—“I want to meet her.”

  “Wait, please.” Tomas withdrew his hand from hers. “Her opinion is strong about the Australian women.”

  “Because we’re not all good Catholics?”

  “Are you Catholic?” he asked.

  “Does it matter? I thought I was going to meet her to say hello, not ask for her blessing so we can get married.” The second the words came out she instantly cringed. She hoped the sarcasm wasn’t lost on Tomas. “Not that we…uh…I didn’t mean…”

  He gave a gentle laugh and relief swept over her.

  “I understand you are joking, Rosalie.”

  “I’m hilarious, huh?”

  “So much hilarious. Besides, we would need to court before we got married. Or maybe my nonna will arrange a wedding with your father.”

  “Huh?”

  “Do not look so scared, Rosalie. It is my turn to joke.”

  “Oh? Oh!”

  “Please, do not get upset if she speaks her thoughts. She is like the wind—her mood can change and we never know which direction it will go.”

  “So why am I meeting her?” She threw her arms wide, her palms facing skyward.

  “Because you are the only Australian at this party and she wishes to know why.”

  “You asked me here.” Rosie waggled a finger under his nose. “Didn’t you tell her that? Or does she think I make a habit of turning up at parties uninvited?”

  “No, no, I have already explained, but she is as curious as the cat.” He cupped his hand to the side of his mouth and said in a stage whisper, “No one says no to my nonna.”

  “Hmmm…”

  “I will limit the length of the torture.” Tomas held out his hand and she shook it.

  “Fine, but you owe me.”

  “I believe I do.”

  Chapter 19

  Rosie walked in step with Tomas, who shortened his stride to match hers. They skirted around the dancers who were back in full force now the band had started again, and within moments she was standing in front of the infamous Nonna.

  “Nonna, please meet my good friend—”

  “Rosalie Stanton.” The way Rosalie Stanton rolled off Nonna’s tongue sounded exotic. “It is good to meet you.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you.” Rosie slowed her speech, then wasn’t sure if Nonna would think it patronizing.

  A silence encircled the trio and a ball of uneasiness grew in Rosie’s belly. Nonna had wanted to meet her, so wouldn’t she have questions? Was she expecting Rosie to start talking? Was this some weird power tussle? Or was it a cultural thing where the youngest person had to initiate the conversation?

  “You have a lovely place,” Rosie finally said.

  “Grazie.”

  “This is such a wonderful party. I am honored to be here. It’s so nice to hear the music from your homeland and—”

  “Enough with this small talk. Tomas, help Zia Silvana.”

  “I am happy to stay here, in case you or Rosalie need help with translation.”

  “I have taught you English since you were a baby.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Zia Silvana is the one who needs help, not me.”

  Nonna pointed in the direction of a woman who could easily pass as Nonna’s sister. She struggled with a tray of glasses and Tomas went over to grab them. He glanced at R
osie, proffered an “I’m sorry” smile, then quickly returned to rescuing Zia Silvana.

  “You, me, we talk. Come.” Nonna motioned for Rosie to follow and, despite the elderly woman’s short legs, Rosie had a hard time keeping up. They moved away from the party and toward the rose garden at the side of the house where row upon row of healthy, green bushes boasted an array of flowers. A rich floral scent hung in the air.

  “These roses are magnificent. I’d heard you were a very good gardener.”

  Nonna concentrated on inspecting the leaves even though it was too dark to find any telltale spots of disease on the plants. “You like my boy.”

  Rosie bit her lip then realized she’d have to answer the question—truthfully—because Nonna didn’t seem like the kind of person who would appreciate a barefaced lie. “He’s a very lovely person.”

  “You want to kiss him, yes?”

  Rosie’s legs felt as if they were cemented to the ground. Was Tomas’s grandmother always so forthright?

  “I…uh…”

  “I watch you dance with him. You have the stars in your eyes.” Her expression didn’t relay disapproval or approval and this line of questioning made Rosie curious about Nonna’s motives.

  “I…”

  “Do not be embarrassed. He is handsome, I know this. It is from my side of the family.” She grinned then her expression turned serious. “But he is not for you.”

  “Pardon?” Never in her life had she had such a candid conversation. And she didn’t like this one bit. “We’re just good friends.”

  “Pfft.” She waved her hand. “Good friends mean nothing. You like him, he likes you. But whatever you have planned will not happen.”

  “I don’t have any plans. I—”

  “I am no fool.”

  Indignation pulled Rosie’s shoulders back and drew her to full height. “Thank you for your concern…” Of which it is none of your business…“but the friendship Tomas and I have is just between us.”

  Nonna shook her head. The small laugh that escaped her lips irritated Rosie and a sharp pain in her gut told her that this Nonna lady was way more intuitive than Rosie had given her credit for.

  “Is it because of who my parents are?” Rosie asked.

  “No.”

  “Because I’m not Sicilian? Not Catholic?”

  “No and no.”

  “Then why?”

  “It is not my place to give a reason. You must not fall in love with him.”

  “I don’t—”

  Nonna tilted her head to the side.

  “Love him…” Rosie said quietly.

  Lively music filtered from the party as she stood in the semidarkness with Tomas’s grandmother. Unease clawed at Rosie. This time Nonna had to be the one to break the silence.

  “He is no good for any girl,” Nonna eventually said. “He will only break your heart.”

  “But he’s your grandson!” Rosie looked over Nonna’s shoulder in case Tomas was nearby, but the garden remained empty.

  “For this reason I say it is not a good idea to fall in love with him. No good for you. No good for him.”

  “I’m sorry, but unless you can give me a solid reason as to why I shouldn’t be friends with him then I can’t honor your wishes.”

  “If you do not follow my advice you are a silly girl.”

  “I’m far from silly.” Rosie couldn’t see why Tomas held so much affection for this woman. “Well, it’s been…interesting meeting you. Thank you for showing me your roses.”

  Nonna nodded and turned her attention to the plants again. Rosie took a couple of steps then felt a small hand around her wrist. Twisting around, she stared into Nonna’s brown eyes.

  “My grandson is broken and cannot be fixed.”

  “He doesn’t seem so broken to me.”

  “You do not know him like I do.” Her eyes penetrated Rosie’s.

  “I know him well enough to know he is a good person.” She hated that her voice had lost confidence.

  “Good person—yes. Good for a husband—no. I understand you do not know me but please, have trust in me. I am trying to help you.”

  The sincerity in Nonna’s expression disconcerted Rosie. Why would this woman speak against her grandson?

  Nonna loosened her grip and Rosie pulled her hand away.

  “Rosalie, I mean no harm. You are nice person and for this, you should not be hurt.”

  “Tomas has been nothing but kind to me.”

  “He is kind. He is just…” Nonna shook her head. “Complicated.”

  What Rosie had thought would be an innocent conversation now left her confused.

  “Ah, I should have known you two would be here,” came a deep voice.

  Rosie looked up and she instantly felt relieved to see Tomas walking toward them. His dark wavy hair was slicked back, like he’d just dunked it in water.

  “Yes, your nonna was showing me her roses.”

  She glanced at Nonna, who had moved away and was now heavily involved in examining her precious plants.

  “This is all? She did not interrogate you?” Tomas smiled but it sagged when he caught sight of Rosie’s expression. He faced his grandmother. “What did you say?”

  “You are my grandson. I love you. Rosalie, she is nice. You have a nice friend.”

  Tomas drew his brows together.

  “I must go now.” Nonna put on a chirpy voice. “The guests need more food.” Nonna disappeared around the corner, leaving Rosie and Tomas alone. Music from the band sparked up again but any desire to dance had left Rosie.

  “I am sorry if my nonna is bossy.”

  “She’s not bossy, she’s just…good at saying how she feels.”

  Tomas slapped his palm against his forehead. “She said she wanted to ask about life as an Australian woman. Did she upset you?”

  Rosie hesitated. Certainly Tomas had a right to know if someone had tried to drive a wedge between them. “I don’t know if ‘upset’ is the right word. It was just more candid than I had expected.”

  Tomas looked around the empty garden. “Perhaps it is time I take you home.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.” The music now seemed too loud. The dancers laughed too much and a ripple of nausea rose in her belly from the rich food she’d consumed. “I’d rather walk by myself, though.”

  “Rosalie, please.” He gently held her hand.

  She instantly searched for Nonna in case she was lurking in the shadows, ready to disapprove. How ridiculous. You’re a grown woman, Rosie.

  “Let us do the walk and talk,” he said.

  “I’m tired—”

  “This is why I should accompany you—to make sure you do not fall asleep in the bushes before you get home.” His uneven smile eased the welling angst.

  She had no idea why she’d let Nonna alter her mood. Nothing had actually changed between her and Tomas, so why did she feel so anxious now? Could Nonna be right? Was Tomas really a broken man? After all, he’d suffered through war, just like her brother Alex. Did he also have moments of terror or breakdowns that rendered him incapacitated? Should she actually listen to the woman who knew Tomas best and get out now, before her heart got more involved?

  Rosie glanced at Tomas, who waited patiently for her reply. Perhaps a little more time with him might help her figure things out. “All right, we can walk and talk.”

  Tomas didn’t contain his grin and motioned for them to take a shortcut down the side of the house so they could avoid the rest of the partygoers. They walked down the gravel road leading away from the bright lights and music, the moonlight struggling to shine through the clouds above. In the distance, thunder rumbled and lightning streaked across the sky.

  She studied his kind face, and the butterflies inside her stomach went crazy. Once again she was mesmerized by
his dark eyes and hair, his beautiful straight nose, strong chin…hell, she even loved that scar under his eye.

  “Thoughts for pennies?” he asked.

  “Huh? Oh!” She turned away, embarrassed. “Nothing.”

  “The look in your eyes tells me it is not nothing. Come with me.”

  He took her hand and they moved off the road to a grassy patch nearby. Both scouted for wayward wildlife of the poisonous variety and, discovering it was clear, Tomas took off his jacket and lay it on the ground for her. They sat and she liked his nearness.

  “Please, tell me why the face of worry.” Tomas studied her so intensely that trying to hold it in would be futile.

  “Even though we’re just good friends”—she used his language to emphasize the point—“your nonna insisted on telling me to…uh…” Why did it seem like a good idea half a second ago to blurt it all out? Now fear paralyzed her.

  “To?” Tomas’s expression didn’t relay any emotion. If she could just read his thoughts…

  “To…uh…” Say it! Just say it! “To not fall for you.”

  There. Done. So why didn’t she feel any better? Probably because now she was totally exposed, vulnerable.

  Tomas stared into the darkness, his fingers gripping his trousers.

  “She is right.” Tomas’s words were mumbled but the message was clear.

  Rosie had not expected this. “Why?”

  “There are many reasons.”

  “So tell me.”

  He turned to face her. “There is no point in having this conversation unless…unless you think we are more than the good friends.”

  “I honestly don’t know what we are. All I know is I like your company. I want to get to know you better.” The ease with which the words came surprised her. Never had she felt more relaxed in telling someone how she felt. What was this magic spell Tomas Conti had cast on her?

  “Rosalie, you make me smile. You make my heart happy. But…” He took a deep breath.

  “But?”

  “But things, they are complicated.”

  “That’s what your nonna said. Who cares if things aren’t always straightforward? Life is messy. That shouldn’t stop us from being with people who make us feel good.”