One Hour to Midnight

by Shirley Wine

  "And after every visit, then what?" Cassie's huff was impatient. "Wounds don't heal with a steady dose of salt."

  Leon pushed the chair back and went to the window and stared out, back towards her, grappling with Cassie's blunt assessment.

  Veronica was hurt and was still hurting, that he couldn't deny.

  Was he unreasonable to ask her help for Jordan?

  No. If I had to, I'd do it all over again. There was little choice if it meant hurting Veronica or saving Jordan's life.

  He turned to the plainspoken woman watching him. He leaned back against the bench finding he needed the support. "I can't change the past. Even you must know that's not an option."

  "Granted. But you can exercise a little compassion and understanding now."

  Leon raked a hand through his hair. What was Cassie suggesting? That he become some sort of new-age freak? The idea made him baulk. He wasn't changing himself for any woman. "I've tried to be tolerant and understanding."

  Cassie snorted with derisive laughter and shook her head. "That is so pitiful, Leon, absolutely pathetic. Sometimes, I think men are born wearing blinders."

  Leon ground his teeth in frustration.

  There were times when Cassie forgot he employed her. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was an empty threat. He could no more imagine Claremont without Cassie than he could imagine himself as a new-age sort of guy.

  "And I'm sure you're going to get around to telling me what you find so amusing."

  "You know Leon, if it wasn't for Veronica; I'd leave you flounder in the mess you've created." She pushed her chair back and stood up. "Come with me."

  Leon followed Cassie's rigid back into the front foyer. She opened the door and stepped outside. Mystified, he followed and she shut the door behind them.

  "Well that was illuminating." He rocked back on his heels and glared at her.

  "Leon." Cassie fairly snarled at him. "Can you cut the crap for a moment and at least try and put yourself in Veronica's shoes? Open that door and walk inside and take a good hard look at what hits you in the face."

  She opened the door and indicated he precede her. Leon walked in looking around him frowning. He could see nothing out of place.

  "I never realised you were a dumb ox before," Cassie snapped. She shook her head and walked over to pick up the portrait of Julia holding Jordan and stood looking at it.

  "I was hard pressed not to cry at Veronica's expression when she saw this." She looked up at Leon, shaking her head in distress. "Do you know, when she's alone here she only ever uses the Blue Room, her suite and the side terrace? And do you know why?

  "Every other room is filled with photos of you, Julia and Jordan. How is that supposed to make her feel? Talk about rubbing salt into wounds! Man, even in your bedroom you have that huge wedding portrait."

  Cassie levelled at him a look filled with pure disgust.

  "Can you imagine her thoughts, sharing your bed, and seeing that? Men don't have the sense God gave a sparrow. And where are Veronica's personal things? Tell me that? You uprooted her, plonked her into another woman's home and then wonder she's unhappy. I'm ashamed for you Leon!"

  The infuriated woman stormed off to the kitchen.

  Everywhere I go, everywhere I look I'm a trespasser. Veronica's words mingled with Cassie's acid contempt.

  It wasn't often he was reduced to humiliated discomfort, but his housekeeper had managed to do so with a few cutting comments.

  Not once had he considered how Veronica would view the photo gallery he regarded as part of the furnishings. Walking into the formal lounge, looking around with fresh eyes guilt twisted his gut in knots. Cassie was right.

  He possessed about as much sensitivity as a rogue baboon.

  Small wonder Veronica doubted her ability to mother Jordan. Hell, he knew of her doubts. He'd listened to her fears as a pregnant teen. He knew she'd been abandoned, left in a school year round from a very young age. And Kathleen Anderson, although protective of Veronica, was not exactly the nurturing type. And by relinquishing Jordan, did Veronica think she was following in her parents' footsteps?

  The answer was so obvious, Leon wanted to kick himself. Hell, he better than anyone, knew he couldn't change the past. But he could damn well alter the present.

  This had to change.

  Now.

  ~***~

  "Hiding out again, missy?"

  Veronica glanced up and saw McKenna's gnarled, wizened face. He came into the summer house, set down the picnic basket, opened the lid and fished out cups, a thermos and a container of sandwiches.

  "Ready for a cuppa?"

  She couldn't help it, despite her upset a chuckle escaped. So often when she'd lived here before, Cassie had sent McKenna after her with a picnic basket. And she recognised the kindly Scot's hand now.

  McKenna handed her a mug of sweet tea and offered her a sandwich. She devoured a sandwich bursting with ham and lettuce and reached for another. Her appetite, so woefully flagging, returned. As she ate, Veronica eyed the old-fashioned, cane picnic basket. "Do you also have a pack of cards in that basket?"

  The old man laughed, a low, rumbling sound. "Of course what's the use of playing hooky without cards?"

  She chuckled and set her mug on a wooden side table, took a handful of grapes and asked the question she'd often pondered. "Why did you and Cassie go out of your way to take such care of me when I lived here before?"

  Veronica looked into eyes that despite his age were still keen and shrewd.

  "You were just a bit of a girl, in deep trouble, and in sore need of cossetting."

  "I never did thank you then, but I did appreciate it." She laid a hand over the gnarled one resting on the chair arm.

  "So what's made you hide out this time, missy? It's been a long while since you've been here. Had a tiff with the boss?"

  The dry observation sent heat up her cheeks. "And some."

  "What's he done this time?"

  Veronica shook her head not quite sure what had triggered that blow-up with Leon. Now she had time to think about it, he'd been primed and spoiling for a fight when he'd walked out onto the loggia. "He wants me to visit Jordan with him."

  "Has he told the kid you're married?"

  "No." She shook her head. "And I'm all for waiting. Jordan's still too sick to deal with anything extra."

  As she watched the old man carefully select a few grapes, Veronica sensed he was also taking time to choose his words. "It's a ticklish situation and it's been a tough few years for Leon."

  She nodded. This was the main reason why she'd never taken issue with him over all the photographs of his late wife spread throughout the house. Hell he even had that wedding photo on their bedroom dresser.

  Tania would never have stayed silent about it, but she wasn't Tania.

  Today, in her anger, her frustration at his blindness had escaped. "How long have you been at Claremont?"

  The old man scratched a hand through his grizzled hair. "I've bin here longer than that young whippersnapper, himself. Longer than Cassie, too."

  "Then you knew Leon when he was a boy?"

  "I did indeed." McKenna put his cup back in the basket and pulled out a well-used pack of cards. "Poker?"

  "I haven't played poker since I left here." Veronica put her cup in the basket and rubbed her hands. "Got any matchsticks?"

  "Nope."

  "Oh?" Her heart raced at his shrewd expression.

  "Truth or dare, Veronica?"

  She swallowed hard. This was a new departure and she wasn't quite sure where he was going with it. "Okay."

  "Cut for deal. High or low?"

  "Low." Could she get any lower? Somehow Veronica doubted it.

  The sound of McKenna shuffling the cards impinged on the silence. He held the pack to her and she cut. Two of Spades. He cut. Jack of Hearts.

  "My turn to ask a question." The old man watched her, his expression shrewd.

  Veronica's heart raced. So this was wh
at he was about. She sucked in an anxious breath.

  "How do you feel about Yannis?"

  "Angry!" Veronica hardly had to even think about that. "I'm so damn angry, McKenna. I have all this anger roiling around inside me. Years of anger. Now it's built up and I don't know what to do with it."

  "You want the easy way or the hard way?"

  Veronica looked upwards with a roll of her eyes. "The easy way."

  "Get Leon to take you to a Greek Taverna. Throwing a few plates will help ease the anger." When he laughed his black eyes nearly disappeared among his wrinkles.

  Veronica chuckled, smashing a heap of plates held infinite appeal. "Okay what's the hard way?"

  He looked at her, expression considering. "Let it go, Veronica. Hugging all that anger isn't doing you or Leon or Jordan, for that matter, any good."

  Was that what she was doing? Hugging her anger. "That's easier said than done."

  "Maybe. But for everyone's sake you need to find a way to let it go."

  As she watched his gnarled hands shuffle the cards, Veronica knew the old man was right, she just didn't know how to go about following his advice. He handed her the pack. This time she cut high. "What was Yannis like as a boy?"

  McKenna lifted his cap and scratched his head. "Sickly. Had something wrong with his heart and had several surgeries."

  With clear vision Veronica recalled the scar in the centre of Yannis's chest. When she'd asked about it, he'd brushed her off. He'd lied about everything.

  Dad says it's wrong to lie.

  Jordan's words made her wish some-one had drummed that into Yannis when he was a boy. Had they done so, would he have become such an inveterate liar?

  "I didn't know that," she admitted. "How did it affect him?"

  It was hardly surprising she'd known so little about Jordan's biological father. And what little she'd learned, she'd dismissed. After his lies, what he'd done to her, how could she believe anything he'd told her?

  "He was cosseted and greatly indulged. His mother kept him wrapped in cotton wool."

  Veronica absently handed the cards back to McKenna but the old man never attempted to shuffle them. "It was hard on Leon."

  "Why?"

  "As the older boy, he always had to look after his sickly brother. Their mother expected him to protect and care for Yannis, and shield him from harm."

  Veronica mulled this revelation over. "How old was Yannis then?"

  "He'd have been about Jordan's age when he had the last surgery. Trouble was the pattern was set by then."

  The old man shuffled the cards his expression hard to read as he looked across the garden clearly looking backwards.

  "What pattern?" Veronica leaned forward across the table and laid a hand over McKenna's gnarled one.

  "Yannis, the sickly spoiled brat made messes. Leon the strong, dependable boy came along behind and cleaned up."

  The quiet words sent ice trickling down Veronica's spine.

  Had she, and her pregnancy, been yet another of Yannis's messes Leon felt honour-bound to deal with?

  Karvasis hung onto control as tightly as a miser hangs onto a bag of gold. Milas Yeager's words took on new significance.

  Veronica stared at McKenna in appalled comprehension. "So when Yannis died—"

  "When Yannis killed himself, Veronica, he was on the run. He owed one hell of a lot of money to the wrong people."

  The old man stood up and carefully repacked the basket and prepared to take his leave. "And, he left one doozy of a mess for Leon to clean up. Leon worked like a dog for years to put out the fires Yannis left burning."

  As she watched the old man leave, Veronica's thoughts were in turmoil. McKenna's perceptive observations shone a whole new light on the past.

  Was this why Leon had handed her into his wife's care?

  What sort of trouble outside of her pregnancy had Yannis left for his older brother to deal with? Milas Yeager intimated there'd been Embezzlement and the threat of bankruptcy?

  Was this what McKenna meant?

  With a sick, sinking sensation, Veronica wondered what else had occurred in the past that she'd been unaware of.

  ~***~

  Evening shadows darkened the underbrush when Veronica left her retreat.

  Somewhere overhead a kookaburra laughed, the raucous sound proclaiming the close of another day. Honeyeaters and lorikeets squabbled as they settled to roost in the trees adding to the strident din.

  She went in through the kitchen door. Cassie was nowhere to be seen and one glance at the clock told Veronica she was finished for the day.

  This suited her.

  She was in no mood to talk to anyone.

  Since the transplant, Leon spent most of the day with Jordan and when he was settled at night, spent hours at the office catching up on a backlog of work.

  Tonight she was glad of his punishing schedule.

  After her melt down, she wasn't ready to face him. She made a pot of tea, opened the fridge and helped herself to cold meat and salad. After setting it all on a trolley she pushed it to her sitting room.

  She turned on the light and stopped.

  Leon was stretched out in a recliner. He stood up as she entered and she cursed the heat she felt run up her neck into her face.

  "I was just considering coming to find you," he said evenly, eyeing the trolley. "Is there enough tea in there for two?"

  She nodded. Why was he here at this hour? She gleaned nothing from his unyielding expression.

  "I'll fetch another cup." He strode from the room without a backward glance.

  Veronica found his unexpected presence unsettling. With grim resignation knew she had to deal with him now. It wouldn't be easy, but better than another confrontation hanging over her head. She placed her dinner on the small dining table in the corner and sat down. He returned with another cup, pulled out the chair opposite and sat down.

  "You go ahead and eat." Leon turned away to pour a cup of tea. "I had my dinner earlier."

  At those words her appetite vanished. She pushed the food around the plate; sorry now she ever looked in the fridge. Leon's hand settled warm over her chilled one.

  "You need to eat, Veronica," he said gently. "You are also recovering from intrusive surgery."

  The food on her plate blurred and she pushed it aside picking up her tea, holding the cup in trembling hands, glad of its warmth.

  "I've never had a big appetite," she said huskily. She glanced up at him and something in his expression made her venture to ask. "How was Jordan today?"

  A slow smile lit his grey eyes. "When I arrived this afternoon he seemed a little perkier. Professor Carey was noncommittal, and then the blood work came in. Jordan is making his own blood cells, Veronica. The transplant is working."

  The cup dropped from nerveless fingers. Tea spread a brown stain on the white cloth but neither noticed.

  "He's going to get better?" The words scraped past constricted vocal cords. "The transplant is really working? You're serious?"

  Leon merely nodded.

  Relief had Veronica burying her face in her hands. Until that moment she didn't fully realise just how heavy the weight of her fear was.

  Within a heartbeat, Leon had her on his lap and cradled in his arms.

  "I'm so glad," she whispered laughing and crying at the same time. "It's really working?"

  "Yes, although Professor Carey warned its early days yet." His laugh joined hers, soft with shared relief. Leon handed her a handkerchief and she mopped at her eyes.

  "That's why you're here?" Veronica twisted the handkerchief in her hands.

  "You have the right to be first to know, my dear. Even Cassie doesn't know yet."

  He hugged her close and for long moments Veronica rested her head against his shoulder, content. "I was too afraid to hope."

  "You're not alone there." The words were muffled in her hair. He hugged her tightly and then eased the pressure of his arms. He pushed her away slightly and looked into her face. "How ca
n we ever thank you?"

  "Jordan's recovery is all the thanks I need." She shook her head. "It's really working? I feel as if I need to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming."

  "You're not dreaming, Vic." Leon gave her another crushing hug, sighing heavily. "You've given Jordan, and me, a gift beyond price."

  Veronica laid a hand on Leon's cheek. "It's a gift you or anyone would give. The real miracle is that our blood and tissue types matched, and I was able to give him a fighting chance."

  "You've done that and now we can only hope and pray he goes into remission."

  The reminder that the transplant may not be the magic bullet they were hoping for, dimmed her pleasure in the moment. "Surely fate wouldn't be that unkind."

  "Fate can sometimes be a real bitch." Leon's mouth firmed on those words and the shadows in his grey eyes deepened.

  And you and I know that, only too well.

  "There's another reason I'm home early," he watched her steadily. "I need to be away for two or three days on urgent business I can't delegate."

  Veronica's heart began an agitated thumping as she sensed what was coming.

  "Could I ask you to visit Jordan during this time?"

  Veronica couldn't refuse that simple request. Stunned, she realised a large measure of her anxiety had vanished, in its place, a heady sense of freedom.

  "I'll visit Jordan."

  "Thank you." He whispered his lips caressing the slender column of her neck, his touch as light as a butterfly wing. He lifted his head and suddenly that gentle touch of his mouth wasn't enough.

  She needed more.

  Veronica's arms snaked up around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers, craving his kiss. Every sense leaped into life, heady relief mixed with desire in a fiery moment, made powerful with need.

  Leon responded, overwhelming her, his mouth so soft, so tender in a kiss that made her ache. When at last he lifted his head, Veronica rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder.

  His lips moved down the column of her neck and she arched so he could continue his delicious exploration. His lips travelled downwards pushing aside the neck of her blouse until he reached the tender flesh of her upper breast.

  She craved more than these teasing kisses.