Free One Hour to Midnight by Shirley Wine Page B

as he signalled a hovering nurse to pick up her case and handbag.
    Outside, he opened the car door and helped her into the back seat.  
    "See her safely into Cassie's care, McKenna." Leon laid a hand on her cheek.   "Rest and we'll be in touch when we need you, try not to worry. And, thanks for what you did for Jordan back there, Veronica. That's the most animation he's shown in weeks. A war," he shook his head, "that was inspired."
    "I'm a teacher, Leon. I deal with kids Jordan's age every day."
    "Maybe, but it sure beats the hell out of hearing him talk about dying."
    He shut the car door and stood there, hands in his pockets as he watched the car pull away, frowning heavily.
    Veronica's reaction to the mere suggestion of visiting Claremont made him more than a little uneasy. What had transpired between the two women while he'd been desperately fixing the enormous mess Yannis left when he topped himself?
    Guilt hit him upside of the head.
    He rarely thought of that black time but Veronica's re-entry into his life was forcing him to re-evaluate.  
    Still brooding, he strode back inside the hospital and to Jordan's side. The boy was asleep. Leon stood watching him, still frowning. Why had visiting with Jordan upset Veronica so badly? Her reaction didn't bode well for seeing his plans come to fruition.
    As he smoothed a lock of hair off his son's forehead, Leon knew there was no turning back. Guilt would not sway him from moving forward.
     
    ~***~
     
    Veronica slumped in the leather seat as the powerful car eased out onto the roadway.
    McKenna drove with the same reverence he lavished on the car's upkeep. She caught his glance in the rear vision mirror and turned to look out the window, scarcely able to believe how easily Leon had persuaded her to return to Claremont.
    As the car turned in the wide stone entrance she remembered so well, a shiver worked its way down her spine.
    Am I crazy? I vowed I'd never to return here. A sigh trembled from her. But then I never imagined that Jordan's life would depend on me, either.
    The car inched along the gravel drive in the dappled shade of huge river gums, marbled trunks standing to attention like a living guard of honour.
    She leaned forward slightly, anticipating that first glimpse.
    "It never fails," McKenna chuckled and she knew he'd deliberately slowed the car to prolong the magic moment.
    "It is special."
    As the car rounded the last curve, she saw it.
    Claremont .
    A huge jacaranda tree, its buds already a hazy mauve, towered on one side of the house, the lacy foliage lending a frothy delicacy to the heavy blue stonewalls and long windows. On the other side a magnificent Murray River Gum shaded the stone outbuilding that in years past was servants' quarters. Now they housed a fleet of cars.  
    "Leon's ancestors built it when Australia still had penal colonies." McKenna's love and pride for the old homestead echoed in his tone. "The first wine grapes and wheat in Victoria were grown here."
    "That's impossible to imagine now." The reminder of just how powerful this family was made her uneasy. Claremont was now incorporated in an exclusive suburb of Dandenong, north east of the city centre. Its pastoral acres long since submerged in residential suburbs.
    The car glided to a halt on the gravel forecourt.
    McKenna was out and had the door open for her before she knew it, retrieved her suitcase and was now carrying it up the steps.
    Cassie Burns stood by the front door, her face creased in a welcoming smile.
    Tears flooded Veronica's eyes. She ran up the steps and caught the older woman's hands. "Cassie. It's so good to see you."
    "Ricki, all grown up." Cassie squeezed her hands tightly, her blue eyes warm. "Leon rang me to expect you. Come away in."
    Veronica followed the older woman, wiping a tear from her cheek. Cassie like Claremont never changed.  
    Once inside the old house, the atmosphere settled around Veronica like a cloak, redolent of all who'd loved and lived and died