One Hour to Midnight

by Shirley Wine

  And Yannis? Where had he gone so wrong? Why had he sunk so low?

  Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with grief, huddled there, sobbing her heart out.

  The end of the sofa depressed and Flynn's concerned face appeared through a blur of tears. "You okay?"

  Veronica nodded, but the tears kept falling. Somewhere inside her a dam burst.

  Flynn stood up and returned a moment later with a box of tissues.

  Grateful, she accepted them, blew her nose and mopped her face but nothing could stem the torrent of tears.

  Without fuss, he made her a cup of tea, took the tissues and gripped her hands. "You need to stop, Veronica, you'll make yourself sick again."

  Somehow, she managed to bring the tears under control. She mopped her streaming eyes and sipped the tea, grateful for it and Flynn's pragmatic presence.

  "I'm sorry," she was first to break the silence.

  "You're entitled, Veronica."

  Flynn had that right. She was entitled.

  Yannis was her first love, his impact on her life huge, yet she'd never mourned him. Or come to terms with his treachery.

  After Leon had taken her to Claremont, she was so preoccupied with all the other pressures in her life she'd not been able to deal with Yannis. Then everything became submerged beneath the grief of losing Jordan.

  How did she feel about Yannis now?

  She traced a shaky fingernail along the edge of the file. Looking back, she saw his diabolical plan with clarity. The pointers were all there but she'd been too blinded by passion and youth to be able to recognise them.

  "Did you know Yannis?" she looked up at Flynn.

  "Not well, but I knew him."

  Did I ever know him?

  Now with the bleak insight of maturity, she knew Yannis was not the man she thought she'd known.

  "What was he like? McKenna told me he was much indulged as a child."

  "That I don't know. As an adult, his wild, dark streak brought him grief. His was a dangerous double life that caught up with him in the end," Flynn said grimly.

  It was that streak in him that first caught her attention. Fresh out of school, on her own, Veronica went wild in her new found freedom. She'd set off on her Australian adventure with the blithe, cocky assurance of youth, utterly convinced she was bullet-proof.

  Yannis was my rebellion against my upbringing.

  And recognising this brought with it lessening of the burden of guilt.

  "He was totally without conscience." Flynn broke into her unhappy thoughts.

  "Did you know what he planned?" Veronica ran a fingernail around the rim of her teacup. How many people knew of Yannis's diabolical plan?

  She shivered.

  "No one knew until he phoned Leon. If Leon hadn't had the Lear jet at his disposal he could never have reached you before the enforcers did."

  Another shiver shook Veronica. "Leon had a Lear Jet?"

  Flynn nodded. "It was one of the first things to go."

  "Leon sold things? To pay Yannis's debts."

  "Among other things." He gave her a hooded glance. "His cars, property, antiques, race horses. He liquidated a lot of assets."

  "To pay me out?"

  "He never regarded it as a payoff, Veronica. He was horrified by his brother's activities. You were only one of more than a dozen girls Leon supported into a new life."

  Veronica stared at Flynn. "There were that many?"

  "Those were the only ones we could find." Flynn raked a hand through his greying hair. "Thousands of girls go missing without trace every year in Australia."

  How easily I could have been just another statistic.

  He leaned across and patted her hand. "Gambling is an evil mistress. Yannis was a weak man caught in its toils and driven to ever more desperate measures to keep one step ahead of his creditors."

  "But to traffic in people?" She shook her head.

  "It's bad for sure, but it's no worse than drugs that kill millions inch by inch every year."

  "And in the end he paid with his life." She put aside her cup and saucer and looked directly into Flynn's gun metal grey eyes. "He must have thought a bullet preferable to being caught by enforcers."

  "Never doubt it." Flynn's grim words sent an icy chill down Veronica's spine, his hard gaze ever wavered. "Those thugs take payment any way they can. If not in money, then they'll exact it in suffering."

  Nausea roiled in her stomach. There was no way she could mistake his meaning.

  "You okay now?"

  Flynn's words jerked her from introspection. "I'm fine. You don't need to baby sit me."

  "Leon asked me to keep an eye on you."

  "Do you report every detail?" She watched him warily.

  "If you're asking about this," he sketched a hand at the tea things and tissues. "No, I turned the monitors off the morning after you decided to stay."

  "Thanks. I appreciate it."

  When he was gone, Veronica finished reading the file.

  It was grim reading, but nothing much was new or surprising. With the wisdom of maturity she recognised how her youth and infatuation had played into a devious man's hands.

  At last Veronica laid it aside. Could she make peace with its contents? That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question.

  ~***~

  Leon walked quietly into Veronica's bedroom. Jordan was asleep on her bed, Mutley and Franklin curled up beside him.

  The big cat opened one amber eye. Leon was sure it was giving him the evil eye. Since Veronica had been at the chalet the animal had moped around the house, his plaintive wailing nearly driving them all spare.

  Leon was as unsettled as Veronica's cat.

  The house echoed without her. He missed her quiet presence. At night while he read the paper, she sat in the chair opposite, head bent over her tapestry listening when he commented on articles, often surprising him with her insightful and thought provoking comments.

  The evidence of her presence was everywhere, none more so than in this room.

  It smelled like her. The light vanilla scent of the cream she used permeated the air.

  On the antique dresser, her collection of silver animals was displayed around the photo of Jordan he'd given her that first day at her Albany home.

  The window seat was now furnished with tapestry cushions adorned with puppies, kittens, geese and flowers, testament to her expertise and exquisite needlework.

  The book Jordan was reading was on the night stand on top of a soft leather bound bible. On Sunday, Veronica left the house at dawn to attend the early service. When she'd missed attending service this week, the priest had phoned to ask after her health.

  Embarrassed, Leon was forced to admit she was spending some time alone in the mountains. He'd been both chastened and surprised by the priest's response.

  "I suspect Veronica will derive great benefit from this spiritual retreat. It's well overdue that she takes some time out for herself."

  Long after he'd finished the call, Leon stared at the phone.

  First Flynn and now the priest, what did they see that he'd never even thought to look for and consequently had missed completely.

  I hope she's deriving some benefit from it, because I'm not. How can I miss someone who's only been here such a short time?

  And now, her absence was making him feel mighty uncomfortable in his own skin.

  The house ran like clockwork under her management. Unobtrusively, Veronica liaised with Cassie, arranged menus and discussed household expenditure. She'd implemented changes that resulted in considerable savings in household bills. And all this was accomplished without any dissension between her and Cassie.

  Veronica had also worked miracles with Jordan.

  With a minimum of fuss, she'd gone to his school, sorted out lesson plans with his teachers and set up a routine for him that didn't tax his strength. Jordan blossomed under her sensitive care. He was happy, had structure in his life and didn't get bored with the enforced solitude Professor Ca
rey insisted they keep in place for at least another month.

  Nor did Veronica constantly nag him to go to parties or on social outings.

  Leon tried to imagine Julia coping with their current restrictions, and couldn't see it.

  He pulled a face.

  Jordan's illness had greatly restricted his social life.

  Julia had never been content to sit at home two nights in a row. How would she have coped with three months virtual isolation?

  Veronica was the opposite.

  She was content to relax at home with her needlework, reading to Jordan or just listening to him reading the paper. And now, her absence reinforced how much he'd taken her undemanding serenity for granted.

  That thought increased his guilt.

  Why did it take her absence to make me appreciate how much I value her? How much she's come to mean to me, and to Jordan?

  And how much I miss her in my bed?

  That thought made him hard. Beneath that quiet exterior was a passionate woman.

  A woman who could well already be carrying my child.

  Once that thought would have pleased him enormously, now it only added to the uncertainty that dogged his every waking moment.

  What would happen if Veronica was pregnant and she demanded to return to New Zealand?

  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 mi
ngled 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?