Burning Fields

by Alli Sinclair

  “Wow.” The river below sparkled as the moonlight fought through the clouds, casting an eerie haze. Off in the distance she could make out her house set back from the road. It looked so peaceful and quiet, yet, inside, every member of that household was going through their own inner turmoil. Up here, though, she felt she could touch the moon and stars—everything was possible.

  “This is the place where I do my thinking.” He sat on a large rock and gestured for her to do the same.

  She leant back on her hands and kicked her legs forward, crossing them at the ankles. “I can see why you like it so much.”

  He reached over and tucked a few strands of hair behind her ears.

  “So…” she said.

  “So…I said I would talk, I know. But my problem is that I do not know where to start. It is all so difficult.”

  “Maybe talking will make it less difficult.”

  He took a deep breath. “This…thing…is something that has haunted me every day for a long time. I do not wish you to think I am a bad person.”

  “It would take a lot for me to change my opinion of you.” She smiled encouragement while she wondered what on earth could be so bad.

  “There was death and it was my fault.”

  Chapter 22

  Rosie concentrated on the valley and river beneath them. Only moments ago, she’d been immersed in the beauty and romance of being with Tomas. Now it felt like a suffocating shroud had landed on them.

  “What happened?” she asked, her mouth dry.

  “The situations were hard to control, they happened so fast.” He shifted around to face her. “It was when I was in Italy.”

  “During the war? Because if that’s the case then I can understand. My brother had to do things—horrid things—that haunt him every single day.”

  “Only part of it was because of the war.”

  She steadied herself. After all, Tomas had never given her a reason to question his ethics—not even after Nonna had that strange conversation with her. The way he’d said “there was death” could mean one. Or two. Or… Oh god, what had he done?

  “I should not have said anything.” He bowed his head, as if the weight was too much to bear. “My betrayal led to death. That is all you need to know.”

  Betrayal?

  Thunder grumbled.

  Raindrops fell on her skin.

  Tomas shook his head. “I’ve said too much. It should be left in my head”—he rested his hand over his heart—“and here. It is my cross to bear and I should not burden you. For this, I am sorry.”

  Now she really wanted…needed…to know. “You can’t say something as big as this then not tell me.”

  “Yet another mistake of mine. You do not need to make this your problem,” he said gruffly.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t care? That something as big as this wouldn’t have an effect on me? On us?”

  Heavier raindrops.

  A flash of lightning.

  Rosie got up and stood on the path. Tomas did the same.

  “I think it’s best if I go,” she said.

  “I should not have been honest.”

  “I’m not sure what you’ve been honest about,” she said. “You’ve thrown this mystery in front of me yet you won’t follow through and tell me the truth. Is it because you’ve decided you can’t trust me?”

  He remained silent for so long she wondered if he was ever going to reply. Eventually, he looked up and said, “I wanted to tell you because you deserve to know the person I truly am but…I just can’t.”

  “Can it really be that bad?” she asked, knowing it could be absolutely horrendous. She’d been around enough returned servicemen to see the torment in their souls and daily struggles. Hell, she saw it every time she was with Alex. Maybe she should give Tomas the benefit of the doubt. After all, he did try to tell her. It appeared that her brother and Tomas were grappling with similar demons. She reached out for Tomas’s hand. “If you’re not ready to tell me, I won’t force you. And I do appreciate you trying. I am here anytime you want.”

  Tomas moved his hand away. He shook his head. “Rosalie, this is crazy. I’m afraid of you getting hurt and already, it may be too late for that. No good can ever come of this.”

  “Tomas…”

  “I will walk you back to your house, but please, let us not talk about this again. I am stupid for ever thinking we could have this conversation.”

  Thunder clapped overhead.

  The rain intensified. Clothes stuck to her skin.

  Commonsense told her she was probably better off not knowing what events were haunting Tomas. Everyone had secrets, and it was the ones that bled into the conscience that destroyed the soul. Those were the secrets that wrecked families. Wrecked friendships. Wrecked blossoming relationships.

  As she stood facing Tomas in the torrential downpour, Rosie felt the wall shoot up between them. And she had no idea if those bricks would ever come crashing down.

  * * * *

  Rosie glared at the offending tractor motor, determined it would not get the better of her. She’d barely slept all week and, despite the sane side of herself telling her to take it easy, she’d made a beeline for the shed as soon as she’d woken up, determined to fix this stupid engine once and for all. Gripping the spanner, she positioned it and held her tongue to the side, willing the nut to loosen from its rusty position. With care, she maneuvered it. All she had to do was one more twist and—

  “Rosie!”

  The spanner slid off and landed in the dirt. “Damn it!” She turned around to find Sefa standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry.”

  “It is all right.” He stepped forward, and looked around the shed as if making sure the coast was clear. “I must discuss something with you.”

  “Is it about the workers? If it is, then you need to talk to Alex.” She’d all but given up hope of ever getting her job back.

  “This is the problem. He is impossible to talk to. We have asked about the money we are owed—”

  “You haven’t got it yet? I thought that had been sorted.” What had her father been doing all this time?

  “No and…” He drew a breath and took his time exhaling. “The men will leave if we are not paid very soon.”

  “You’re getting some money, right?”

  “Not enough.” Sefa ran his dirty hands down the side of his trousers. “They are very unhappy. Some are already looking for work elsewhere. You could lose all of them, you could—”

  “I told you I would bloody fix it!” Alex stormed into the shed, his face a furious red.

  “Mr. Stanton—”

  “Bugger off Sefa and stop annoying Rosie. She’s not in charge anymore. I am!” He pointed to the entrance. Sefa hesitantly walked to the door then turned around to look at her. She mouthed “Leave it with me” and motioned for him to go. He did so, all the while looking over his shoulder at Alex, who paced the shed like a caged lion.

  “Those bloody workers! What the hell are they good for? The lazy bastards. Wanting this and that. They should be grateful we take them on.”

  Alex’s boots formed a trough in the dirt of the shed floor. She couldn’t let this outburst pass as he’d had way too many recently.

  “Alex, if it would lighten your workload, I could talk to Dad about the workers.” Rosie kept her voice even and firm. If he sensed any hesitation she would likely bear his full wrath.

  “No! This is my job now!”

  “Then do it!” she yelled back, her virtuous intentions shot to smithereens. “For god’s sake, Alex, you didn’t even want this job!”

  “Shut up! Shut up!” Alex dropped to his knees, his hands over his ears, his eyes squeezed tight.

  Rosie rushed toward him.

  “Shut up, shut up, shut up.” He mumbled over and over again.

  S
he put her hand on his. He yanked his away, his eyes wide with fear.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, alarm running through her.

  He shook his head and crawled backwards into the corner, and wedged himself between two stacks of long-handled tools. He buried his head in his hands, his body shaking from head to toe.

  “Alex…” Rosie sat beside him, close enough to offer physical comfort but far enough to move if he lashed out.

  Her brother’s sobs echoed in the shed and she waited quietly, staring through the doors at the yellow and orange tinged sky. The men would return shortly and the last thing she, or Alex, would want is for them to witness him in this state. Yet it wouldn’t be wise to ask him to move up to the house. Lord knows what her father would say if Alex wasn’t being the man he was expected to be.

  “I’m here,” she said quietly.

  He looked up, his dirty face streaked with tears, a deep fire burning in his eyes. “Where were you, Rosie? Huh? Where were you when we bombed the villages of innocent people? Where were you when our plane crashed and the Krauts were on our tail? Where were you when we had to go into that orphanage and sift through broken children to find ones we could save? Where were you? Where were you?”

  Rosie scooted back, fear urging her to flee but love making her stay.

  Her brother froze. “Oh god, Rosie, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I…” He fell forward. She reached for him and he collapsed against her.

  “Shhh.” Rosie stroked Alex’s hair, her heart feeling his burden. She couldn’t possibly know what he’d been through, but she could feel it in the way his body trembled, in his gasping breaths. She could see the sadness that had taken up residence within his soul.

  Alex remained still for quite some time while Rosie fretted.

  “I was in France,” he mumbled.

  “Pardon?” Just as Rosie leant in closer Alex sat up. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and sniffed.

  “I lived in France after the war.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us you were alive?” she asked.

  Alex shifted on his buttocks, his eyes trained on the ground. “I needed a fresh start. I needed…” He closed his eyes briefly and mumbled, “I’m married.”

  “What? Where is your wife?”

  “At home with the children.”

  “Children? Oh!” She couldn’t contain herself. “How many?”

  “Twins—boys.” His lips kicked up at the corners. “They are almost two.”

  He returned to staring into the corner of the shed.

  “She left me.” He paused. “Actually, she kicked me out.”

  “Why?” Rosie asked.

  “For the same reasons you just witnessed.” His shoulders slumped and he didn’t look up. “I’m a mess, Rosie. This rage is like a freight train I can’t stop. I thought returning to Tulpil…returning to something familiar…might help but, if anything, it’s made it worse.”

  “How?”

  “The images don’t go away. The noise of the bombs. The bodies…it never leaves. Day and night it bombards me and it’s making me insane. I thought Tulpil would be my sanctuary, you know, because it is so far removed from Europe, but I’m haunted no matter where I go.”

  Rosie’s heart went out to her brother.

  “What can I do to help?” She inclined her head so she could see Alex’s eyes.

  “I don’t know.” He sat back and let out a long breath.

  In the distance, she could hear the workers returning.

  “Come on.” Rosie held out her hand.

  Alex took it reluctantly and she helped him up.

  “What are we doing?” he asked.

  “Something we haven’t done in years.”

  * * * *

  The waters of Piri River shimmered as Rosie stood on the riverbank with Alex. He concentrated on the gentle flow while Rosie sat on the dirt and peeled off her boots and socks.

  “You coming in?” She stood up and moved to the area she’d just checked to make sure it was safe to jump.

  “No,” Alex scowled. “I’m not in the mood.”

  “So you’re chicken?” Rosie followed this with a grin and challenged him by raising her eyebrows.

  “You’re the chicken.” Alex removed his boots and socks and took his time placing them neatly under the tree.

  “Ready?” She got in the sprinting position. “One. Two. Three!”

  Rosie made like she was about to jump but she let her brother take flight and splash into the river’s cool waters. He disappeared for a moment, a cluster of bubbles making their way to the surface. She waited for Alex to bob up. It didn’t happen. Rosie peered into the water, but it was too murky to make out anything. A few seconds went by.

  “Alex?” She cupped her hands over her mouth. “Alex!”

  Nothing.

  “Alex!”

  Not a single bubble.

  Oh god.

  “Alex!” Rosie raced upstream and jumped in. The waters sucked her down and spat her straight up again. Her hands and legs stretched out in the water, moving frantically as she tried to find her brother. A moment later a whoosh raced past her body and Alex appeared.

  “Gotcha!” he yelled and let out a laugh that came all the way from his belly.

  Annoyed but relieved, Rosie tread water and used the palm of her hands to splash him. A water fight broke out and they screamed and laughed and splashed like they didn’t have a care in the world. After a while the craziness faded and they floated on their backs, staring up at the day fading into night.

  “Do you love her?” she asked, her voice soft.

  “More than anything in the world.” There was no hesitation.

  Rosie smiled, happy an old childhood pastime had given him some peace and joy.

  “Will you go back?” Frogs croaked in the reeds while she waited for his reply.

  He finally cleared his throat and said, “Not until I can put the pieces of me back together. She said she needs a whole man, not a broken one.”

  Memories of the conversation with Nonna flooded back.

  She’d always thought war was a senseless act and now, having experienced the aftermath amongst family and friends, Rosie questioned the sanity of this world she lived in.

  Swimming to the riverbank, she got out and sat on the edge. Alex did the same and he nudged her with his elbow. “Thank you.”

  “For?”

  “For this.” His hand swept over the scene before them. “I forgot how beautiful it was here.”

  “It’s not bad, I s’pose.” Rosie wiggled her toes and tried not to worry about the discomfort of sitting in soaking clothes. As much as she’d enjoyed this brief trip back to their childhood, they had to return to reality, no matter how difficult it was. “I need to ask you something and I don’t want you to get mad.”

  “I’ll try not to.” Alex sounded like he meant it.

  “Why didn’t you contact us? We thought you were dead.”

  Her brother drew his knees up to his chin and stared at the river. “I was ashamed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Alex rested his head on his arms as he gently rocked back and forth. “I killed people, Rosie.” When he looked up, his eyes were glassy. “I killed hundreds, maybe thousands of people. Innocent people. What kind of man does that make me?”

  The uncomfortable conversation she’d had with Tomas a week ago muscled in on her.

  Taking a moment before speaking, she finally said, “People do horrible things in war. Maybe you should talk to Dad, he was in the Great War and—”

  “He was on a ship and hardly saw action. He wasn’t in thick of it like me.” Alex shook his head slowly. “What I did was murder.”

  “It was war.” Her mind could not shake Tomas from this conversation.

  Ros
ie wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed his cold hand. Minutes slid by.

  She eventually let go. “We thought you were dead, Alex.”

  “I died on the inside,” he mumbled.

  “And Geoffrey died in real life.” Frustration pushed out her words. “God, Alex, do you have any idea the torment you’ve put us through?”

  He grabbed his boots and rose to his feet. She did the same.

  “I’m done with this conversation,” he said between gritted teeth. Once more, he appeared ready to fly into a fit of rage.

  “Well, I’m not. Our hearts were broken—we mourned—while you’ve been in France leading another life. And now you’ve left that as well. What’s to become of you? Do you think all those people died in the war so you could roam the globe being miserable and leaving a trail of broken hearts?”

  “You’ll never understand.” He towered above, but she refused to let him intimidate her.

  “You’re right, Alex. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve gone through and I am so very sorry that you have suffered…do suffer…the way you do. It’s hard to watch you go through this, though you have a chance to make things right.” She paused and puffed out her cheeks. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Dad may actually have been right when he said good honest work is the best way to heal.”

  “I don’t know, Rosie…”

  “What else have you got in your life right now? Do you want a chance to be with your wife and children again?”

  Alex concentrated on the boots in his hand. “Of course I do.”

  “Then bloody well fight for them, because you’re the only one who can change things for the better.”

  Chapter 23

  Rosie stood on the verandah and studied her father, who sat in the white wicker chair as he took in the expanse of Tulpil. Color had returned to his cheeks and an air of serenity had settled around him. It had initially taken some convincing to get him outside, but once he breathed in the fresh air and lay his eyes on the land to which his heart belonged, the deep creases in his face seemed to smooth out a just a little.