Burning Fields

by Alli Sinclair

  “I don’t, I’m a—”

  “The Allied troops have arrived.”

  “What? When did that happen?”

  “Overnight.”

  No wonder he’d missed it. He’d been asleep on the chair next to Rachel’s bed at the surgery. And because he’d snuck out early to see his family, he hadn’t been around when the household woke to the news.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “The American and British troops parachuted in near Syracuse. Rumors are they’ll move north.”

  Tomas let this news sink in, surprised, stunned, and overjoyed that finally, the underground groups would have world-class armies to support them in getting rid of the fascists. Although more lives would be lost—many innocent—and countless others would be traumatized by the bloody battles that would be fought.

  “Perhaps you should go further north,” Tomas said. “We’ve got cousins in Milano who would take you in. Mumma and Papá could go, too.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Nonna. “No one will ever come between me and my home.”

  “It would only be temporary,” he said, realizing this could be the start of a massive lie, “just to ensure you’re safe.”

  “Nowhere is safe, is it?” She angled a finger at Tomas. “Your nonno thought you and he would be safe at that political meeting but he was wrong, wasn’t he?”

  The familiar wave of sadness mixed with pure terror took hold of Tomas once more, like a blanket of fear and regret he could never fully discard.

  A renowned journalist, his nonno had planned to meet with a group of Jewish people who were discussing their rights after Mussolini published the Manifesto of Race ahead of changing racial laws in Italy. The Jewish Italians were to be stripped of their Italian citizenship and forbidden to hold influential jobs, including with the government. They’d lose rights to their properties and marriages to non-Jews would be abolished. Tomas’s nonno, a well-respected man and passionate humanitarian, had been invited to the meeting with the hope he could help the Jewish Italians by using his contacts. Although his nonno was initially against the idea of Tomas accompanying him, he’d finally relented, figuring his twenty-year-old grandson should keep abreast of politics because it infiltrated everyone’s lives and it was better to be informed rather than remain in a state of ignorant bliss.

  What no one had expected was Mussolini’s Blackshirts to arrive brandishing guns and batons and killing needlessly at their peaceful—and secret—gathering. People ducked for cover under chairs, tables, in corners. Bullets flew. Shouts deafened. Panic reigned. Caught in the fray, the streets running red with blood, Tomas and his nonno escaped, but a bullet hit his nonno in the heart. He’d collapsed in Tomas’s arms, not breathing, blood soaking his shirt.

  That night, Tomas’s world—and his family’s—changed forever.

  Nonna sniffed as she dabbed her eyes with the apron. “The past is the past.”

  Tomas struggled to hold his composure, thrown into traumatic memories he’d tried so hard to forget. “You don’t need to be brave, Nonna.”

  “I do. You do. Everyone does. These are trying times, my boy, and they will only become more difficult as time goes by. Who knows what will happen with the arrival of the Allies.” A long sigh left her lips. “Sometimes I wonder if we’d be better off living elsewhere. Don’t get me wrong, Palermo is my home and it will always be, but I can’t help wonder what it would be like to live in a place where people can walk the streets without fear of getting arrested for looking at someone the wrong way.” She drummed her fingers on the table, a distant look in her eyes. “What about Canada? New Zealand? Or that place with those weird creatures that bounce like rabbits but are as big as a small horse?”

  “Kangaroos?”

  “That’s it! Australia, land of the kangaroos. Do you think they have olive trees there, Tomas?”

  “You just said no one would ever come between you and your home.” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Maybe home is where you make it. I would be just as happy living in the mountains as I would by the ocean. As long as I have my family with me.” She wrapped her fingers around his. Her skin felt drier, her bones more prominent. Tomas looked at Nonna—really looked at her—and noticed how gaunt and pale she’d become since he last saw her. This war had taken its toll on everyone and it broke his heart to see his grandmother suffering this way.

  Nonna withdrew her hand. “Sometimes I imagine being able to sleep soundly without worrying about what’s going on beyond these walls. But don’t mind me, these are just the dreams of a foolish old woman. Besides, your parents would never agree to such an outlandish idea.”

  “Probably not.” Tomas looked around and asked, “Where are they?”

  “Your father has gone down to the factory to sort out some issue with the machinery and your mother left early for something-or-other.”

  “How are they?” he asked cautiously.

  “If you’re asking if they’re still angry with you, then yes, they are. None of us wanted you to deliberately put yourself in danger. They’ll forgive you when they see you are safe and sound.”

  Tomas’s gaze rested on Nonna. Although he’d loved his nonno dearly and they had been like peas in a pod, Nonna had been the only person he’d ever confided in. She’d been his advocate. She’d never let him down. She’d always kept her word. So, Tomas opened his mouth and the whole sad, sordid story of his time with Abato and his men poured out. He deliberately left out any mention of Rachel as he didn’t want to bombard Nonna with too much information at once. Besides, he needed to ease into it and mentioning Rachel off the back of everything he’d just said may not be the best idea.

  Nonna listened intently and took in every word. When he’d finished, she gave his arm a squeeze. “You have so much love—your love for our country. Love for our people. Maybe you need to rethink how you see your role in all this. Killing is not in your heart, my boy.”

  “It just feels…wrong. But I have to do something. I can’t sit around and—”

  “You are an intelligent young man. You have a degree. You know people.” She raised an eyebrow, giving him the same knowing look he’d received all his life.

  “Politics?” Tomas drew his brows together. “No. No way.”

  “Of course, not politics! Do you think I would be insane enough to suggest that?” She slapped her hands on the table. “You have a brain. You have a heart. You don’t need weapons. Words can often be more powerful. Find a way to use them.”

  “Like Nonno?” he asked, slightly confused.

  “The last thing I want is for you to put yourself in a position like him. I loved that man,” she sighed, “but he always trusted the wrong people. Whereas you, my dear boy, seem to do better in this regard.”

  Tomas clasped his hands in his lap and studied them. “There were times out there when I doubted my choices and the people I was with.”

  “But you never doubted whose side you were on,” Nonna said.

  “Of course not.”

  “So, put the gun down and find a way to help that won’t have you shot.”

  “Anything to do with these people could have me shot,” said Tomas.

  “I know”—she smoothed down her apron—“and as much as I wish you wouldn’t get involved I understand why you can’t watch this country fall apart. Even recently I’ve gotten…” Nonna sat back and pursed her lips.

  “Even recently you’ve gotten, what?”

  “It doesn’t matter. You need to find a way to use your voice and intelligence and fight this war without weapons.”

  Tomas tilted his head to the side. Nonna was not usually one for being cryptic.

  “Why the change of heart, Nonna?”

  “I can’t deny What’s going on around us any longer. No one can. It’s on our doorsteps and can barge in here at any minute. The arrival of th
e Allies has given me hope, but hope alone doesn’t win wars.”

  “Speaking of hope…” It wasn’t the neatest transition but it would have to do.

  “Yes?”

  “I have a friend—you know her from a long time ago—and I’m hoping you’ll find it in your heart to help.” Layer by layer, Tomas revealed the story about Rachel, all the while carefully studying Nonna, who remained quiet. By the time he’d brought her up to date, Nonna was leaning forward, slowly nodding, concern in her eyes.

  “Do you trust her?” Nonna asked.

  Tomas didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  “Then we must help,” she said.

  “You need to realize there’s danger in doing so, and I wouldn’t ask if we weren’t desperate. And then there’s a small matter of Mumma and Papá…”

  “Leave that with me. You go ahead and tell Rachel she is welcome here.”

  Tomas’s shoulders dropped with relief and that’s when he realized how much tension he’d been carrying. He felt terrible putting his family in this position but, given Rachel’s mental strength, Tomas figured her physical recovery would be swift. If she managed to stay resting…. He had a feeling Nonna would make sure she did.

  Nonna placed both palms, down on the table and locked eyes on him. “Now we have your friend sorted, you need to think about what you’re going to do. The only way to stop this country, and the rest of the world, from imploding is for people like you to find a way to make things right.”

  Tomas lowered his head. “It’s such a big task.”

  “You’re the first person in our family to get a degree. You had your doubts that you could do it, but you pushed through.” Nonna got up, went to the cupboard and returned with an orange.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “You’re not the only one with connections. It’s yours. You’ve worked hard for it.” She pointed at the fruit in his hands. “Could you shove a whole orange in your mouth?”

  “No.” He brought the orange to his nose, closed his eyes momentarily and inhaled the aromatic citrus.

  “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.”

  “You do love your analogies, don’t you?” Tomas smiled, the first time he’d done in days. Hell, it had been weeks. Maybe Nonna was right. Maybe he could bring together the elements needed to invoke change. Tomas broke off a piece of orange and shoved it in his mouth. His taste buds delighted in the zesty, fresh flavor, reminding him of his auntie and uncle’s orange groves outside of Palermo where he and the family used to go for day trips. Life in those villages had been so easygoing, a peaceful, rustic existence.

  Peeling off another section, Tomas said, “All right. I’ll look into it.”

  * * * *

  The conversation with Nonna swirled inside Tomas’s head as he strode toward Dr. Bianchi’s house. His people could use an engineer who understood the designs of bridges and buildings that could help in attacks…but those attacks could still lead to the loss of life of innocent people.

  Tomas dodged the scrawny stray dogs and winked at the young kids, many malnourished and draped in ragged clothes. War had destroyed any hope in this country. He could see it in his people’s eyes. There was no spark, only fear of the unknown. What kind of life was this? One his people didn’t deserve, that’s for sure.

  Tomas climbed the steps to the doctor’s house and was let in by the wife. Dr. Bianchi stuck his head out from one of the far rooms and gave a nod. Still no evidence that he was capable of a smile. But why would he? This doctor spent most of his time stitching up those wounded in this bloody war.

  Tomas made his way to the end of the hall and entered Rachel’s room. She was already dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed. Smoothing down her hair, she gave a wide smile. The difference between a woman on the brink of death almost a week ago and this ray of sunshine was incredible.

  “I have a solution,” she said.

  “To?”

  “To where I’ll stay.” Rachel adjusted a black shawl around her thin shoulders.

  “You’re staying with my family, remember?” She hadn’t been high on drugs when they’d had this discussion, so why the change of plans? “Besides, your brother has charged me with looking after you.”

  “I’m going to stay…” Her eyes didn’t meet his. “With a…my…friend.”

  “What kind of friend?”

  “One I’ve known a very long time.” The words came out fast.

  “I’m sorry, Rachel, but your brother—”

  “I’m going and you can’t stop me.” She stood and looked up at him, her expression defiant. Rachel swayed a little and put her hand on the bed. She narrowed her eyes, as if challenging him to say anything.

  “I can stop you and I will.”

  “You can’t and you won’t.” She tugged angrily at the shawl.

  “Please, come to my family’s home. There’s a spare room and you’re welcome.”

  “I’ve made arrangements and there’s no arguing,” Rachel said. “It’s only for a short while, anyway. I plan to be back out doing my job as soon as I can.”

  “Almost dying hasn’t scared you?”

  She snorted. “No. Why would it?”

  “It’s a dangerous job.”

  “Everything’s dangerous when there’s a war in your country. My goal is to end the rule of these tyrants. Isn’t yours?”

  “Of course, it is.”

  The hardness in her eyes melted and the squareness of her shoulders softened. “Listen, Tomas, I’m sorry for being abrasive. You went through so much to get me back to Palermo and I haven’t shown my appreciation for what you’ve done.”

  “You haven’t lost that stubbornness you had as a kid.” Tomas smiled and so did Rachel. “You need to do more of that.”

  “What?” Her smile instantly fell away.

  “Smiling becomes you.”

  “Please, don’t.” She cleared her throat. “Bianchi told me the Allies have arrived, but they won’t help us on our terms. It will be theirs.”

  “You don’t know that. I want to see the bloodshed stop, but I think there are other ways to do this without more killing.”

  “Are you a pacifist?” Her tone sounded incredulous, slightly horrified. “Do you think you can march up to Hitler and ask him to put the guns down? What about Mussolini? Do you think the Blackshirts will stop torturing people and go on a holiday? Do you really think that would work?” She placed her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows.

  “That is ridiculous and I am certainly no fool. Look, my job is to look after you and that’s what I’m going to do. Please, let’s go.”

  “No.” She folded her arms across her chest. For a woman who displayed elements of strength beyond her years she contradicted it neatly with moments of complete immaturity.

  “Listen—”

  “I’m not changing my mind.”

  “Then you need to tell me who this person is and where you’ll be. I will be keeping a close eye on you.” What did Abato want him to do? Manhandle Rachel by dragging her to his house and tying her to the bed? Surely Abato trusted his sister enough to choose decent company.

  “I’m going to stay with my husband.” She jutted out her chin, daring Tomas to argue.

  “Husband?”

  “Yes,” she said, as if he should have known.

  “Your brother never mentioned you were married.”

  “Well, we’re not married. We’re just…sort of…. we were together. He’s like a husband.” Once more her eyes didn’t meet his.

  “But you’re not with him now?”

  “I will be.”

  A shimmer of disappointment fell on him and he needed a moment to take stock.

  “Listen,” s
he said, yanking him into the present, “you better not be judging me because of my choices.”

  “I am not the morals police,” Tomas said, “and I am not judging you.” Although he wondered what on earth Nonna would say if he told her the unmarried Rachel had run off to be with a man.

  “I love him and he loves me. He will make sure my recovery is swift.” She lifted her pack and that same notebook Tomas had discovered fell on the bed. “Oh shit.”

  “What?”

  Rachel stared at the book lying innocently in front of her. “It should have been delivered the second we got to Palermo. God, my brother’s going to kill me.”

  “You were delirious and almost died, what the hell did he expect? Give it to me.” Tomas held out his hand. “I’ll deliver it for you.”

  “No.” She picked up the book and clutched it tightly against her chest.

  “Then let me take you to where you need to go. You are still under my care.”

  She stalked over to the door and yanked it open. “Like hell I am.”

  Chapter 10

  Rosie stood in the garden, clutching a cup of tea as she soaked up the warmth of the early morning sun. Today was her first day on the job and she had every intention of making it an excellent one.

  In the nearby fields, the sugarcane stood to attention, waiting for the men to arrive and set to work—stoop to cut the base of the cane, straighten their backs, cut the top of the cane, drop for collection—over and over again until the heat of the day became unbearable. As the men were paid by how much cane was cut, they only stopped for a swig of water to prevent themselves collapsing from dehydration.

  A heavy footfall drew her attention to the left of the house. Bartel rounded the corner, the large Akubra hat shielding his face as he walked over to her.

  “Are you ready for your big day?” Bartel’s smile appeared to be more of a grimace.

  “I am.”

  “Your father says you are to remain in the office.” His statement sounded more like a command and it irritated her. But she had to keep Bartel on her side because if she put one foot wrong he’d be sure to report it to her father.