by Shirley Wine
José turned to Sonia. "You need to have a word with that young man. If you won't, I will."
They moved off, Sonia talking to him in a soft undertone, clearly agitated.
"What's with him?" Tania sidled up to her indicating where Sonia and José were talking to Andreas. "No guessing, he hates your guts. Where does he fit in the picture?"
"He's Jordan's half-brother."
"With rellies like him, Vic, you sure don't need enemies. Better you than me. Nice digs you've scored here." The irreverent comment elicited another chuckle. No one could be gloomy around Tania. She nodded in the direction of the portrait over the fireplace. "So that's the competition? That's one tough cookie."
"She's dead," Veronica whispered.
"Is she?" Tania's green eyes flashed. "I don't think much of your new husband's sensitivity."
"Hush up." Veronica choked on a laugh. "Leon's got more than a few photographs on his plate."
"A few?" Tania looked at her eyebrows raised. "When are you going to consign all these photos to a dungeon? What's in all the other rooms? The same?"
"Pretty much," Veronica admitted pulling a wry face.
"Was she vain or did she just love herself?"
Veronica choked out another laugh just as Milas walked up, put an arm around Tania's waist and pulled her back against his chest.
"Leave off, spitfire," he said quietly in her ear. "Leon and Veronica will find their own way, in their own time."
Leon returned to her side, looking at her intently before giving Tania and Milas a frowning glance. "You okay."
Veronica held her breath beseeching Tania not to mention the photos.
"What could possibly be wrong?" Milas smoothed over the awkward moment.
"I'm going to steal my bride. Cassie wants us to cut the cake." As Leon guided her across the room he murmured in her ear, "What was all that about?"
Veronica scrambled for an answer. No way was she about to mention the photos. When she saw Andreas she gave him a partial answer.
"Milas and Tania overheard Andreas. He was so rude and they were concerned."
Leon lifted his head, seeking his nephew. Veronica felt a tug of guilt as the teen flushed crimson as he caught the full-force of Leon's glare.
"I'll deal with him later."
Veronica paused and laid a hand on his arm. "Let it go, Leon. I think he's already felt the edge of José's tongue."
"Later, he'll catch mine."
He guided her to the small table that held the beautifully decorated wedding cake.
Her hand held in his, they wielded the knife. And to a chorus of catcalls and cheers fed each other the obligatory slice of cake and toasted each other with champagne. As they did, Veronica glanced past Leon and caught Andreas's glance.
And the blood iced in her veins.
Chapter Twelve
"Mrs Karvasis? Come on wake up now, Mrs Karvasis?"
Veronica frowned trying to make sense of the words. Who was calling Julia? Didn't they know she was dead?
Someone kept tapping the side of her face. She grumbled and tried to move away from the annoyance.
"Wake up, now." The imperious voice was more forceful.
"Go away." Veronica fought her way through layers of cotton clouds.
A face floated above her.
"Yannis?" Desperate, Veronica tried to catch hold of the ethereal vision. "Yannis don't go, please."
She tried to reach him, but like every other time, he laughed and vanished in the mist. And her tears overflowed. She needed to catch him to find out why.
A harshly indrawn breath, a sense of shocked stillness made her eyes open.
Confused, she stared up into Leon's grim face.
She tried to move and then wished she hadn't. A groan was wrenched from her. Had she tangled with a truck? She hurt all over and her mouth was so dry.
"Veronica? Sweetheart? It's time to wake up now. It's all over." Leon's voice was so aloof and impersonal. "How are you feeling?"
"Don't ask," she muttered turning her head and glared at the source of the tapping. "Stop that."
A nurse chuckled. "Tetchy are we?"
"Would you like some water?" Leon asked.
She nodded and managed to open heavy eyelids. He slid a strong arm around her and lifted her so she could drink from a bendy straw. "Enough?"
When she nodded he settled her back on the pillows and smoothed a hand over her forehead. "Feeling better?"
"Ah, Mrs Karvasis you've decided to return to us?"
Veronica winced as the cheerful booming voice of Professor Carey made the castanets thumping in her head jig together in a merry dance.
This time she had enough wit about her to realise they were talking to her, not Julia. In the background she could hear the deep rumble of men's voices, they impinged on her consciousness and she opened her eyes fully. Then she remembered.
"Jordan?" she asked in an anguished whisper. "When will he have the transplant?"
"He had it hours ago while you've been sleeping. Now it's in the lap of the Gods." Professor Carey felt for her pulse. "You'll be somewhat sore for a day or so."
"You mean I'll hurt like hell," she muttered.
He chuckled in amusement. "That too."
She made an incautious movement and another groan was wrenched from her. She hadn't known it would hurt this much.
"She needs something for pain," Leon said in a harsh voice.
A the prick of a hypodermic sent her back into the welcome arms of sleep.
~***~
Veronica's gaze lifted from the blur of words in her unread book as Leon walked through the terrace doors onto the shaded loggia. Her hands shook and the book slipped from her fingers to her lap.
He set the tea tray on a low table. Her heart began to race, something in his expression made her very wary.
"Cup of tea?"
She couldn't trust her voice and simply nodded. Leon poured two cups and Veronica nervously watched his controlled movements.
"How is the walking wounded?"
She tried for casualness, linking her shaking fingers. "I never realised it would hurt so much."
Leon passed the plate of biscuits. She took one and nibbled on it. It tasted like cardboard. Aware she should ask, she found this awful awkwardness paralysing. Since she'd had the surgery Leon had been so aloof as to be almost hostile.
And Veronica had no idea why.
How had she ever thought they could make this strange marriage work?
Leon was expecting her to ask. And she wanted to know, desperately, but knowing also terrified her. This constant fluctuation in her emotions was new and unsettling. She didn't understand herself and she certainly didn't understand what was happening between her and Leon.
She breathed slowly, in and out.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Slow, conscious breathing had helped her overcome childhood panic attacks and the nightmares that wakened her, terrified of being lost or left behind. On those nights Kathleen had sat with her, coaxing her to breathe slowly.
Now, as an adult she understood those nightmares.
The counsellor Leon insisted she visit before Jordan's birth had talked her through them.
As a small child, she'd been abandoned by her parents when they'd left her with her grandparents, then by their death, and later still by her parents' deaths. This lay at the root of the panic attacks.
And since the operation the panic attacks had returned, big time. And Leon's inexplicable aloofness made them so much worse.
Blinking, she lifted her gaze to his.
"How's Jordan today?" Somehow the question got past the constriction in her chest.
He looked at her over his teacup, grey eyes narrowed. "Do you care?"
A biscuit crumb lodged in her throat and she coughed. "What do mean by that?"
"You think you're sore," he said in quiet disgust. "Just think what Jordan's going through."
The condemnation in his words exacerbate
d her guilt. She knew Leon expected her to go with him every day and visit Jordan. So far, her slow recovery provided a sound reason.
"It's through me he has a chance of recovery or have you conveniently forgotten that?" Agitated, Veronica put her cup down and stood up.
Why hadn't she realised Leon had picked up on her unease over visiting Jordan?
Veronica didn't understand, nor could she explain, her reticence. But every thought of visiting the child sent her into that once familiar state of panic. So much so, that now the thought of visiting had become an insurmountable bogey. Yet, she'd gone alone to visit Jordan before. So why was she afraid now? It made no sense.
"I'm not disputing what you've done."
Suddenly, he towered above her and she felt threatened. While she knew he would never hurt her physically she had only to remember their lovemaking to know he held the power to destroy her completely.
"Most normal mothers would never leave their sick child's bedside."
Veronica swallowed, but the knot in her chest was too firmly lodged to budge. A tangle of rage and misery swirled in her belly. It hurt—but that pain was nothing compared to the guilt.
How could she possibly be a normal mother?
Veronica knew in her heart of hearts, she would never be a normal mother. Her parents had abandoned her and she, in turn, had walked away from her own child.
The pattern was set.
"But I'm not the usual mother am I," she said bitterly. "You and Julia made sure of that."
Leon paced the terrace, his brows drawn together in a black frown. "That was ten years ago, Veronica. Let it go."
"Let it go?" She fairly shrieked, trembling from head to toe. "How can I let it go? Jordan regards me as interloper."
"That's ridiculous." His casual dismissal only served to increase her resentment.
For the second time, she'd put her whole life on hold for him and his son, and yet it wasn't enough. Her parents had never loved her enough to keep her with them. It was the story of her life. No matter what she did, it was never enough.
"Is it? You heard him, Leon. Jordan was crying for Julia, not me. I'm not his mother and he'll never see me as his mother. It's ten years too late for this." She sucked in a sobbing breath, crossing her arms tightly.
Leon's coldness since she'd come out of that anaesthetic had robbed her of confidence. Something had come between them, but she had no idea what.
She watched him pace across the terrace and back. He stood and looked at her, his frustration obvious.
"It'll take time and patience to gain Jordan's love and trust, I grant you that." He stalked across to where she was leaning against the terrace wall. "But that can't happen while you're hiding out here at Claremont instead of visiting with him."
Intellectually, she knew he was right. She had to get over this paralysing sense of inadequacy. Desperate, she attempted to explain.
"Leon...I don't..." her voice faltered.
"What, you don't want to or is it that you don't care?" With ruthless precision he cut through her stumbling words.
"No that's not it, I..." she struggled to find the right words.
"Don't be ridiculous, you're his mother."
Veronica winced. Leon didn't have a clue. And his certainty only increased her sense of failure.
"I may be his biological mother," she said desperately, willing him to understand. "But I was never there when he cried, when he scraped his knees."
"All that doesn't matter now." Leon snapped his fingers so confident, so sure he was right. "All of that's in the past. Now it's your chance to love and mother your son."
He thought she could step up to the plate and become an instant mother. Really? Fear soured her belly, holding her back. She had to make him understand.
"I barely remember my mother and Kathleen was so busy with her school," she confessed, hesitant. "I know nothing about mothering anyone."
"So why allow history to repeat itself?"
His arrogance was chilling.
If it was that goddamn easy I'd be doing it, wouldn't I?
"It's far better to allow him to get used to me in small doses. Nothing will be gained by rushing him." She glared at Leon then asked in a quiet, deadly tone, "Have you even told him we're married?"
It was Leon's turn to look discomforted. "I don't think he's well enough to accept that yet."
"Now who's hiding out?" she asked, curiously satisfied to see colour stain his cheeks. "Just when do you intend telling him? When he comes home?"
Leon pushed an unsteady hand through his hair and began to pace. His agitation did nothing for Veronica's stress level.
"It's not that easy. Jordan's a very sick child. He doesn't need anything that may distress him right now. We're fighting for his recovery here."
Veronica, suddenly shamed by her taunt, looked at him through narrowed eyes. "I'm sorry. You do what you consider is right."
"Your suggestion is probably the best one," Leon said, spearing her on a hard grey glance. "I'll tell Jordan when he's ready to come home."
His acceptance surprised her.
But, unused to situations beyond his control, he'd had a crash course in learning to adapt, and she knew Jordan was too ill for any kind of stress.
"At the moment he accepts me as his birthmother and his donor. It's best if we leave it that way." Nerves clumped around in her stomach. "What time do you plan visiting?"
"I told him we'd be in later this afternoon if you were feeling well enough. Are you?"
All the angst, the worry, her sense of inadequacy and guilt over her lack of mothering ability coalesced into one gigantic tangle almost doubling her over in pain.
"I'm well enough." It was over two weeks since the operation. "But whether I'm ready to face another meeting with Jordan is a different matter entirely."
Leon jerked back as if slapped, eyes narrowed to glittering grey slits. "What the hell do you mean by that?"
"You don't get it do you, Leon?" She lifted her hands and let them fall. "For ten years I've ached for Jordan. Every day he's been my first thought in the morning and my last at night."
Leon made a hasty movement towards her, but Veronica held up her hands to ward him off. He took a step back.
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, a vain attempt to stem the sting of loss.
"Do you know what it's like for your arms to throb with the sheer longing to hold your baby? It's an ache far worse than any physical pain." She paused on a sob. "For that you can go take an aspirin."
She wanted to cry, scream and wail her hurt to the heavens.
"For ten years I've lived with this mind-numbing sense of loss. It's something I've grown so accustomed to, I can function on a day to day basis around it." A tear overflowed and she dashed it away. "Then you demand I return here, and wham! Every piece of protective scar tissue is ripped away."
Leon crossed to her side and took her hands, squeezing them tightly. "God Veronica, I'm sorry."
Frustrated she yanked her hands away, moving swiftly to the far side of the terrace.
"Apologies don't cut it, Leon." She waved her hands, taking harsh agitated breaths. "Everywhere I go, everywhere I look, I'm a trespasser in another woman's home. I'm no more welcome here than I was when Julia ruled Claremont."
Chapter Thirteen
Leon watched Veronica running down the garden, her tormented words ringing in his ears. His first impulse was to go after her then he decided against it.
He knew where she was headed.
Always in the past when she was overwhelmed by the enormity of her situation, Veronica had retreated to a small summerhouse tucked in a secluded corner of the garden. Everyone, from himself to the lowliest maid at Claremont, understood it was Veronica's private space. A space he'd expressly forbidden Julia, or anyone else, to go near.
And remembering this unsettled him further.
Leon pushed an unsteady hand through his hair, possessed of the fear that in bringing Veronica here an
d marrying her, he'd made a grave miscalculation.
He gathered up the used cups, the china chinking in his unsteady hands. He carried the tray into the kitchen where Cassie was washing lettuce at the sink. She gave him a narrow eyed glare over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses.
"That was an interesting conversation."
Too late Leon realised the terrace Veronica always used was off the Blue sitting room, and only separated from the open kitchen windows by a few shrubs and trellising.
I'm a trespasser in another woman's home. Veronica's accusation stung.
"You were listening again."
"I haven't found a control switch for my ears yet, Leon. And neither of you were particularly quiet. What do you intend to do about it?"
He paced around the kitchen watching his housekeeper through narrowed eyes. He had no doubt Cassie would spare him little sympathy. "What can I do?"
She gave him a droll look and continued with her chore.
"What do you suggest," he asked goaded when it was obvious she wasn't going to answer.
Cassie never hurried and when she finished, turned and wiped her hands on a towel, all the time watching him. He resisted the urge to squirm under that steely-eyed stare. This woman had chastised him as a child. She'd given him candy suckers when he was hurt and nurtured him through the intolerable grief of losing his wife.
She knew him as well as any person on the planet.
"Firstly, you would do well to realise Veronica is wounded. A wound you've re-opened with brutal suddenness."
She pulled out a chair by the kitchen island and sat down. Leon sat in the chair opposite.
"Between Yannis, Julia, you and to a certain extent Sonia, you fairly tore that girl's heart out ten years ago. I did warn you at the time." Cassie folded her arms over her ample bosom. "Have you ever once looked at this from her point of view?"
The explicit condemnation in her voice seared Leon, almost reducing him to schoolboy status. Cassie never hesitated to give her opinion, making it difficult for him to resist the very real urge to squirm under her clear, reproving gaze.
"She was welcome to visit here and see Jordan whenever she wanted to?" Leon said truculently.