One Hour to Midnight (35 page)

Leon sighed, the gusty sound made Jordan stir.
 
Why was the boy resting on Veronica's bed? Leon leaned across the bed to stroke the cat. The animal hissed and bared its teeth and he hastily withdrew his hand.

Jordan murmured, still half-asleep, his hand instinctively petted the big, black brute. The darn animal purred the whole time watching Leon, its eyes malevolent amber slits. If that animal could talk, Leon was sure he'd be read his pedigree.

Jordan rolled over and opened his eyes, saw him, blinked several times and then sat up rubbing his eyes.

"Enjoyed your nap?"

"Mmm."
 

The big cat stretched, yawned and got to its feet. It nuzzled the sleepy child and then jumped onto the floor, stalked across the floor and leaped onto the wide windowsill and began a leisurely grooming session.

A shiver ghosted through Leon. Was that cat blaming him for his mistress's absence?

And who else but me is to blame?

"Why are you napping in here, in Veronica's room?"

Jordan gave him a look that clearly said, duh!
 
"I just am."

Leon sighed. Sometimes he really struggled to understand this child's logic. He tried to inject a note of reality into the situation, prepare his child for the chance that Veronica may decide not return. "Veronica may not decide to stay with us now you're well."

Jordan rolled onto his belly and propped his elbows on the bed, his chin resting on his fists, feet beating a rhythm on the mattress.

"Vic will be back, Dad." There wasn't a single shred of doubt in those words.

 
"What makes you so certain Vic will come back to us? Return to Claremont to live?"
 

Leon worked his shoes off and stretched out on the bed beside his son. Hands linked behind his head. For the first time in days he studied his boy. Jordan was still pale, and still far too thin, but there was a sparkle in his eyes, and his quicksilver smile had returned.

Thank you, Veronica.

"Vic will come back because she loves us, Dad."

Leon winced wishing he possessed the boy's surety. Did Veronica love him? He shook his head all the doubts crowding back.
 

"And she loves Claremont. And she tells the neatest stories."

This piqued Leon's interest.
 
"What's so great about her stories?"
 

His kid's feet drummed on the bed a little harder and Leon watched him with a slight frown. Jordan was going to be heartbroken if Veronica decided she didn't want to stay.

"We're in the middle of our story about a Taniwha."

"A what?"

"A Taniwha." The way Jordan said the word it sounded like tun-i-far."

"What exactly is a Taniwha." Leon stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

"It's a kind of dragon monster who lives in a cave, in one of the deep lakes near Rotorua. The Maoris have loads of spooky stories about Taniwhas. And they all live in or near water. Our Taniwha's way cool. He's a dragon and when the moon's full he changes into a superman who can do anything."
   

"I see." Leon studied Jordan's eager expression and sparkling eyes, unsure if he should encourage the boy to build up his hopes. Did he really think some mythical creature had the power to make Veronica decide to stay with them? "And will this Taniwha make sure Vic returns to us."

"Duh?" Jordan gave him a look as if he thought his dad was stupid. "Vic will come back because we haven't finished the book."

"Are you reading a book about this Taniwha dragon?"

"No." Jordan's feet pounded on the bed in his excitement. "It's a secret. Our secret."
 

As he watched Jordan's barely concealed excitement Leon was aware of the stirring of jealousy. Jordan was his boy and Veronica was supplanting him as the most important person in his son's life.

He's more her child than he's mine.

And how immature is that. Jordan's affections weren't a competition where the winner takes all. There was plenty to share and without Veronica he wouldn't be enjoying this special moment. She'd put the sparkle back in this kid's eyes.
 

 
"Can I share in this secret?"

Jordan gripped his lips together as if it took everything he had not to tell the secret he was just bursting to reveal. Leon rolled over and caught his son in a hug. "I bet I can tickle that secret out of you."

Jordan rolled over holding both hands over his mouth.
 
Leon caught him tickling his ribs. The boy squealed and rolled across the bed, Leon followed growling and laughing.

Leon glanced up and saw Cassie standing in the doorway wiping tears from her eyes with the corner of her apron.

He was off the bed in an instant, arm around her shoulders. "What's wrong, Cassie."

Her blue eyes glittered as she shook her head. "Nothing, it's just great to hear this old house echoing with his laughter again."

"It is at that."

Cassie gave him a stern look.
 
"I hope you're on your knees thanking that girl. You owe her so much."

Her unspoken censure made Leon squirm.

~***~

Veronica stayed at the chalet for a month.

One morning, while waiting for Flynn's routine check, she knew it was time. She needed to return to Claremont. She had to discuss their marriage with Leon.
 

Flynn's only comment, "Do you want me to contact Leon to come for you or do you want me to take you back?"

She nibbled her fingernail then looked up at him. "I'm happy to go back with you. Do I have to let Leon know?"

"The moment we leave, security will notify him."

With the minimum of fuss, he secured the chalet and was driving down the steep winding road to the lowlands. They travelled in silence for most of the way. Near the outskirts of Dandenong she turned to him.
 

"Thank you for staying with me."

"The solitude of the mountains brings its own healing. I suspect you needed that."

"I did." This man for all his reserve, understood. "There's one more thing I need to do before I return to Claremont. Where is Yannis buried?"

Flynn gave her a startled glance. "He's in the Karvasis plot. You want to visit?"

"It's time," she said simply. "Where can I get flowers?"

Flynn drove to a florist, and there Veronica chose two bouquets, one of sweetly scented lilies the other Australian wildflowers. Flynn eyed the two bouquets with a curious lift of his eyebrows.
 

She merely shrugged and looked away, unsure why she'd succumbed to the impulse.
 

Flynn then drove her to a cemetery a few blocks away from the church where she married Leon. He parked in the shade of a gum tree and turned to her. "I'll wait here, the Karvasis plot is in the far right hand corner. You'll be okay?"

Veronica nodded and alighted from the car.

As she walked among the graves curiosity mingled with sadness.

This cemetery held the pioneers of the district. Many of the names engraved on granite headstones were familiar ones featured on roads, parks and schools. Following Flynn's directions she found the Karvasis plot. All Leon's ancestors who'd lived at Claremont rested here.

Julia's was the newest grave. A few dried gum leaves rattled across the headstones in a gust of hot wind.

Veronica paused, knelt and laid the white lilies near the base of the headstone. She traced a trembling finger over the name engraved in the cold granite.
 
"Did you conspire with Yannis?"

The words had barely left her lips when a wiliwili sprung up, picked up dried gum leaves, dust, twigs and feathers sending them whirling upwards like a spinning dervish.

A shiver goose-stepped down Veronica's spine as she watched the dust-devil. Was that an answer to her question?
 

Maybe…but if so, what could she read into its unexpected appearance? The Aborigines, she knew, placed much store on happenings like this.
 

Troubled and uneasy she moved to Yannis's grave.

Relief and sorrow vied with anger.
 

Veronica had been possessed of the irrational fear that because Yannis was Greek Orthodox, he wouldn't be buried within hallowed ground. When she found his headstone in a far corner of the family plot, a soft, relieved sigh escaped. It was irrational given their history that she should be concerned about his final resting place, but she was.
 

Why do I care?

That was a question she struggled to answer.

As she laid the bouquet of wildflowers by his headstone, Veronica finally admitted she did care. Despite his sins, Yannis Karvasis had been once been so important in her life. And it would upset her to know his family and his church had disowned him in death. A sigh escaped as she traced a finger over his name.

Why, Yannis? Why?
 

It was a question that had plagued her for more than ten years. She looked up, but the hot, cloudless sky offered no answers. In the shade of the scrubby melaleucas was a stone seat. She walked to it, brushed off dried gum leaves and twigs and sat down.
 

You need to let the anger go, missy.

Yannis's actions were wrong and morally repugnant and, to Veronica's mind, unforgivable.

How McKenna, how can I forgive him?

On impulse, she dug into her purse and pulled out a notepad and pen. For long moments she stared at the blank paper nibbling on the end of her pen.
 

What would I say to Yannis if he was standing right here in front of me?

At first, she was unsure how to begin. And then, the words poured out of her, anger, bitterness, loss and grief spewed from her pen onto the paper in one great, cathartic rush of emotion. She filled page upon page with years of accumulated anger and grief.
 

When her pen finally stopped moving she was trembling, as if she'd suddenly been struck with the ague. About to flip back and re-read what she'd written Veronica knew that would be a mistake. Instead she ripped the pages from the book and with a fierceness bordering on desperation and tore them into tiny pieces.

Standing above Yannis's grave she tossed the fragments upwards onto the wind. A hot eddy caught them, scattering them like fine ashes in every direction.

Above her head, she heard the whirr of a fruit dove's wings.
 

Was that Yannis's soul?

Another shiver shook her and head bent, she offered up a little prayer. She heard the whirr of wings as the bird flew away and she prayed his soul had found peace.
 
As she turned to leave, a feather floated down to land at her feet.
 

This was too spooky.

An inner compulsion saw her bend and pick it up.

It was a soft grey wing feather of a mourning dove. Veronica stood rooted to the spot studying its gentle striations of colour. Suddenly, she had the sense that a weighty burden had lifted from her shoulders.

And peace stole into her heart.

As she walked back towards the gates, Flynn stepped out from beneath the gum trees and came to meet her. She was aware of his comprehensive glance but was in no mood to talk. He stepped ahead of her and opened the car door

He started the engine and cranked up the air conditioning. As they drove towards Claremont he was first to break the silence.
 

"There's a bevy of reporters camped outside the main gates. In the glove box you'll see a couple if scarves. Use them to conceal your face and don't act surprised."

Some of it has already hit the press.

Recalling Leon's words, Veronica was swift to obey Flynn's directive, draping a scarf over her head so it concealed most of her face.
 
As the car slowed and paused before the gates reporters sprang to attention, leaping forward, long nosed cameras pressed against the car windows.

Veronica looked neither right nor left as Flynn activated the remote control and the gates opened. They drove through, the gates closing behind them.
 

Once inside she eased out a shaken breath. "How long has this been going on?"

"A while, if you don't give them ammunition they'll eventually go away," he said dryly.
 

"I hate this intrusion in my life," she said, her voice shaky.
 

"It's part of life with Leon."

Flynn's dry observation made her smile. She'd never known another person who could say so much by saying so little.
 
As he parked on the drive below the wide font steps, Veronica turned to him. "Thank you so much."

He merely nodded. She watched him drive off and then ran up the steps to the front door, opened it and stepped inside.