“Was it Bartel? Because if he’s gotten cranky about you taking over the books—”
“He’s gone, Dad.” She looked at him through bleary eyes.
“What do you mean he’s gone?”
“I checked at the hotel, but Reg said he’d left in a hurry.”
“What?” With his good hand, he lay the newspaper across his lap and took off his reading glasses.
“The men told me they hadn’t received full pay and then Mr. O’Reilly called to say your accounts were overdue. I went through the books and found Bartel has been skimming from our accounts.”
Her father stared with wide eyes. She checked for any changes in his skin color, in case there was any trembling or shortness of breath.
“You must be mistaken.” His tone remained even.
“I wish I was, Dad, but after speaking with Reg and finding out he has a gambling debt…” She really did not want to continue.
“He told me he’d kicked that habit.” Her father’s voice held a steely edge, despite his slurring.
“You knew about his gambling problem yet you let him look after the books?” She threw her arms wide. “Why would you do that when I was begging you to let me help?”
“Because you’re—”
“Don’t bother finishing that sentence. And I stupidly thought you had started to believe in me.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean then?” she countered, her hands on her hips.
“Letting you get involved was a risk and now look what’s happened.”
“Are you serious?” Incredulity swept through her. “This is not my fault. You should be grateful I found out when I did.” Her father stared at the newspaper. “I think the fact that the men trusted me enough to tell me about their shortfall in pay speaks volumes for the respect they have for me. What a shame you don’t have the same for your own daughter.”
She stormed out of the room and down the steps. Jumping into the ute, she fumbled for the key, cursing like her brothers might have.
The tires spun in the gravel as she took off down the hill and toward Kitty’s place in town. At least she’d get a sympathetic ear from her best friend.
The bright headlights cut through the darkness and just as she rounded a bend, a large kangaroo bounded in front of her. She slammed on the brakes and as the ute skidded in the dirt. She heard a pop and the vehicle lurched to the left.
“Damn!”
The roo hopped merrily into the distance as the ute listed to the side. Grabbing the torch out of the glove box, Rosie got out to inspect the damage.
A blown tire.
Great.
She pulled out the toolkit from the tray and rested the torch on the road so she could get started. Any other time, Rosie’s anger would have risen as a result of the damaged tire but, in a way, she was thankful she could take out her frustrations on the stupid vehicle. Working with her hands had always been a great stress reliever and took her back to the happy days when she’d worked for the Australian Women’s Army Service. Before too long the wheel was off the car and she had the spare ready to put on.
“May I be of assistance?”
Rosie jolted and dropped the spanner. She held the torch and shone the light directly into the speaker’s eyes.
Big, brown, beautiful Italian eyes.
Tomas used his hands to shield himself from the harsh light. “You could shine this somewhere else, yes?”
“Oh! Sorry!” Rosie rested the torch on the bonnet. “What are you doing out here?”
“I could ask the same of you.” He nodded toward the decimated tire laying on the road. “May I help?”
“No, no, I’m totally fine.” Her words sounded a little forceful, so she added gently, “But thank you for the offer.”
“I would like to keep you company.” He followed this with a smile that she happily returned.
“Sure. Thanks.”
“So…” they said in unison. Their laughter swirling through the darkness.
“You first,” she said, grappling with a sudden bout of coyness.
“I have not seen you around much,” he said.
“I’ve been so very busy.” Why couldn’t she look him in the eye? “I should have thanked you much earlier for the lovely box of food you sent over.”
“I understand, I have been busy, too. And it is our pleasure. It was the idea of my nonna and my mother.”
“Well, please thank them for me.”
“I will.”
This polite and formal conversation drove her crazy because right now she felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush. After spending time with Tomas at the dance she’d got the distinct impression he was interested in her, yet here they stood in the dark, acting like almost-strangers. It was all so…odd.
Not sure what to say next, Rosie returned to wrestling with the stupid nut that wouldn’t go on straight. Her sweaty hands slipped and she grazed her knuckles on the metal rim. “Ow!”
Tomas knelt next and took her hand. His skin was a little rougher, but his touch just as gentle. Her body temperature soared.
He used the torch to examine her knuckles. “You need a bandage.”
“I’ll be fine, honest.” Their eyes locked and she quickly turned away, concentrating on the stubborn bolt again. “Do you mind holding the torch for me, please?” she rasped.
He let out a laugh. “I am more than happy to.”
“What’s so funny?”
“You.”
“What?” She looked up to find deep smile lines around his eyes.
“You are very independent.”
“You better not think that’s a bad thing.”
“No! Not at all!” He held up a hand in defense. “I like this. It is refreshing. The only females I have met here in Australia are traditional. And you, Rosalie Stanton, are not of the traditional variety.”
“Hmmm….” She narrowed her eyes as she let his words sink in. “So that’s a compliment?”
“But of course! You remind me of my nonna. My grandmother.”
“Your…grandmother?” Any chance that there was romantic interest from Tomas exploded like a firework into the expansive black sky. No one wants to court their grandmother.
“Si! She is strong. Independent. She does not do what society thinks she should. My nonna, she believes that we are all equal.”
“Do you think the same as her?”
“Of course!”
Her liking for this man just increased tenfold. “I have a feeling I would like your nonna a lot.”
“And my nonna would very much like you.” He paused for a fraction of a second. “Perhaps as much as I like you.”
The butterflies that had been flapping in her stomach took full flight.
“I…” Words! She needed words! Good words! “Thank you?” This was all she could come up with? Good grief…“So…uh…I better get this fixed.”
Rosie knelt down to wrestle with the tire again. She frowned at the wheel, shyness crashing in on her.
“Rosalie, please…”
“Just…one…twist…” With a forceful turn the last bolt was on and the job was done. “There!”
She stood and wiped her greasy hands on the towel from the toolkit.
Tomas shook his head and smiled. “You are strong.”
“I’m not really.” Her arms ached, her knuckles smarted, and she suspected tomorrow her back would be feeling the aftermath of lifting the heavy tire.
“I mean mostly in here.” He pointed at his heart, then his head. “And here.”
Unsure how to respond, Rosie placed the tools back in the suede pouch resting on the bonnet, then put them in the back of the ute.
“I…” She stared at her feet shuffling in the dirt. Appalled by her shyness, she for
ced herself to look up at him. “I like how you find it so easy to say what you think.”
Tomas drew his brows together. “Why would I not?”
“Because the culture here, especially between men and women, is to remain understated. Not to talk in depth about what you’re thinking or feeling. Sure, a husband may tell his wife that he loves her, but for strangers like us—”
“We have met a few times, so I consider us good friends.” He winked and she laughed. His happy-go-lucky manner bolstered her confidence.
“I can very easily imagine us being good friends.” Though a nagging voice in her head told her there was one subject that needed to be broached and now was the time, whether she liked it or not. “There is one thing we should really talk about.”
“And this is?”
She hesitated, wishing she could ignore it but knew there was no way she could. “My father said there was a dispute between your family and mine.”
“Ah,” Tomas said. “Yes, there was a problem. I only discovered it after I arrived here.”
“You didn’t mention it at the dance. Wouldn’t it have been a good idea to say something?”
“Why? I did not want to spoil the moment with the business of family. I was enjoying the time with you.”
Rosie let his last sentence sink in. He did have a very good point. “I did enjoy dancing with you that night.”
“I had much fun myself.”
“The land problem was resolved, right?” She hated harping on about it, especially when there were much more pleasant topics.
“Yes, it was. Your father understood the title was wrong. He was not happy, but he did the thing of honor and gave that piece of land back.”
“That’s him, honorable to a fault.”
“You and I are all right, yes?” Tomas looked at her with expectant eyes.
“About the land thing? If my father was happy to settle, then yes, I am sure we are all right.”
“So, good friend Rosalie, why are you out here alone and driving like you are in a racing car?”
“I had to deal with an issue today and my father wasn’t exactly happy with the way I handled it.”
“Oh?”
Rosie shoved her hands in her dress pockets. “He doesn’t have faith that I can help run the farm because…because I’m female. And it hurts that he thinks like this.”
“Speak to any woman from any country and you will find the same problem: They are judged by who they are born as, not what they can do.” Tomas stepped closer, his eyes earnest. “I am very sorry you are experiencing this.”
Rosie shrugged. “I don’t know how to change it.”
“If anyone can make a difference, I imagine it could be you.”
The moonlight reflected in his eyes and Rosie found herself surreptitiously taking a step closer.
Tomas leant forward, just a fraction.
He was so close.
If she moved in just a bit more—
Tomas gave a nervous cough. “Is this why you drive like a crazy person? Because you are angry with your father? Where were you going?”
And just like that, the moment fell away. She couldn’t have imagined it, could she?
“Kitty’s house,” she said quietly.
“Would you like me to escort you to her house, to make sure there are no more flat tires? Or if the tire becomes flat again I can hold the torch for you?” His suggestion gave her hope that he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye. Neither was she.
“I’m all right but thank you all the same.” What on earth was she saying?
“If this is your wish.” He clasped his hands behind his back.
“Tomas?”
“Si?” His large eyes looked hopeful.
“What were you doing out here? I would have thought you’d be eating dinner with your family or…something.” She swatted away the idea of him taking a girl to the pictures.
“At the end of the workday I like to walk alone and take in the beauty of this land.”
Rosie rested her gaze on the shadow of eucalypts and wattle behind him. “So, you like the landscape here?”
“Of course! How could I not? It is beautiful, no? Look at this—” He walked over with the torch to the silver wattle and reached out and gently touched the yellow flowers. “Mother Nature is an artist. Here—” He broke off a flower and handed it to her. “Two years ago, in Italy the women started to receive this flower as part of La Festa della Donna, International Women’s Day. We do this to celebrate women and show we value what you do. We want women to know they are not alone in the struggle to be considered equal.”
“Wow.” She held the flower like it was her most treasured possession. “I didn’t even know there were wattles in Italy. I thought they were only in Australia.”
“I believe we imported them a long time ago. We call them Mimosa.”
“Hmmm…” Rosie inhaled the flower’s scent. It seemed sweeter than it normally did. “So, this plant is significant for both of our countries.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Do you miss Italy?”
Tomas drew his brows together. “Sometimes yes, sometimes no. I miss my people, the culture, history, the language. It’s a part of who I am and always will be.”
She nodded, relaxing in his company, his alluring accent, his warm personality.
“But Italy is a country that has been through much. So very much. War. Political problems. The people struggle every day, but the rich do not care. The ones in power laugh from their comfortable chairs with their bellies full of good food and wine.” His tone held an edge and he stared off into the distance. He turned to her and said quietly, “But no matter how much I wish for things to change, they will not. Maybe now that I…” He shook his head. “I am sorry, I must bore you with talk of a country that you do not care about.”
“Tomas”—she went to reach for his hand then quickly pulled away, surprised at how familiar she’d become—“I care about a lot of things and I feel for the people in Italy. In fact, I care deeply for all the people in war-affected countries. I can’t possibly know what your people have gone through, but from what I have read and heard, it hasn’t been easy.”
“No, it has not. At times, I feel like I have deserted my people but…” he ran his hand along the back of his neck. “Adjusting to a new culture can be difficult. People are not always understanding.”
“Many have a hard time seeing outside their own sheltered worlds,” she said. “We’re all humans and no matter where we are born we should respect each other regardless of nationality and culture.”
Tomas leant against the car and crossed one leg over the other. “I like the way you think.”
“And I…” There was no way she could finish this sentence.
“You?”
“I like having these conversations with you.” Apparently that sentence could be finished.
“Then we should have more. Perhaps you will join me for an evening walk some time. We can do a walk and talk.”
Before she had a chance to think it through, her heart answered: “I’d like that very much.”
Chapter 12
By the time Rosie left Kitty’s she’d had enough time to think things through. Kitty’s level-headedness, despite her raging hormones, had helped Rosie put everything into perspective. She hadn’t yet figured out how to recover the missing money, but she at least had a plan of how to talk to her father calmly.
Rosie quietly entered the house, ensuring the screen door didn’t slam behind her. The aroma of freshly baked pie wafted from the kitchen.
“Rosie?” her father croaked.
“Yes?” She entered the bedroom where he lay on his side, propped up by her grandmother’s crocheted pillows. “Where’s Mum?”
“Kitchen.”
“Right.” She leant a
gainst the doorframe, not sure if she wanted to enter or keep her distance.
“Listen, I’m sorry if what I said angered you.” He paused and she waited for more but nothing was forthcoming.
“And?”
“And that’s it.”
She studied his sallow skin, the dark rings under his eyes, his thin frame. Was all this arguing over something they would never agree on worth it? Why was it so important that he see her point of view?
Tension gripped her shoulders once more. “What are we going to do now Bartel has gone?”
“Maybe you’re wrong about the accounts. Maybe…” His voice trailed off and his shoulders dropped. “Maybe you are right.” His head hung forward and he covered his eyes with his good hand. “How could he do this?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you straightaway but…”
“But?”
“I was scared.” There. Now it was out in the open.
Her father looked up, puzzlement in his eyes. “Why?”
“Because I thought it might set off another stroke,” she said, not enjoying this conversation but at the same time relishing this moment of open communication. It had been so long…
Her father pushed himself up a fraction more. It was a struggle, but his expression remained determined.
“I am stronger than you think,” he said.
“So am I, Dad.”
Her father studied her with intensity, his blue eyes unblinking, his lips not moving. When he reached for a glass of water she resisted helping him, as the doctor had suggested he attempt everyday tasks. The nurturer in Rosie wanted to rescue him, but she let him be, as painful as it was to witness his shaky hand spilling water on his shirt. He took a sip, placed it down and sponged off his top with a nearby tea towel.
“Dad, I should call Sergeant—”
“No.” His words came out with force. “No police involvement.”
“Why not?”
“Bartel is a good man. He is just confused. Give him a day to realize what he’s done and he’ll return.”
Rosie took a moment before voicing the opinion that would do her no favors. “Bartel is not returning, Dad. He’s skipped town with the money. And anyway, if he did come back, he probably wouldn’t have much—if any—left because he would have used it to pay back his debts.” Or gambled it away.
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