One Hour to Midnight

One Hour to Midnight Read Free

Book: One Hour to Midnight Read Free
Author: Shirley Wine
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tinged with their summer mantle, the ground below, crimson with needle-like petals.
    His stillness only served to increase her apprehension.
    Leon was never diffident, yet she sensed a distinct hesitation. She glanced at his profile but gleaned nothing. Intuition warned that whatever had driven him break his solemn promise and seek her out was no trifling matter.
    "Leon?"
    He sighed harshly and opened his door, walked around, opened hers and held out a hand.
    Instinctively, she took it, and was jolted by another memory. Heavily pregnant, Leon had helped her from a similar vehicle.
    With a ragged breath, she tore her hand away from his and walked toward the shore only stopping when curling waves, sand and pebbles barred her way.  
    She was far too aware of the silent man beside her.
    Each quivering breath was laden with the spice of new mown grass, summer heat on salt wrack and the woodsy pine of Leon's cologne. Veronica curled her arms around her body, trying to ward off the primitive sensations, tension sat in her belly , as heavy as a brick.
    Why does he still affect me like this? After all these years?  
    "Come and sit down." His brisk words cut through her turbulent thoughts; his hand on her elbow warm.
    She shrugged off his touch. Being this close was torture enough without any added stimulus. They walked towards a huge pohutukawa, its twisted limbs testament to years of struggle against remorseless ocean winds. Leon leaned down and brushed fallen leaves and needle-like crimson petals from a crude seat built within a buttressed root.
    Unable to stand the tension a moment longer, she sat down and turned to Leon. "What's this all about? What do you want?"
    "You." He slanted a swift assessing glance her way. "Not you personally, I need your help."
    The air was sucked clean out of her, leaving her winded. Somehow she managed to take a breath. The cool, precise words ripped open an old wound. Of course Leon didn't want her, he'd never wanted her.   He'd only ever wanted the baby she carried.  
    He half turned toward her on the rough seat, rubbinga hand across his forehead.
    "Why?" Anxiety tasted metallic on her tongue.  
    "Before I explain, can I ask you one question?" His keen grey gaze skimmed over her in one comprehensive glance.  
    She nodded, so nervous her mouth and throat were dry.  
    "Have you any close ties, Veronica," he asked, his voice even and unemotional. "A lover? Children?"
    For several heartbeats shock held her motionless.  
    "You mean you don't know?" The question burst from her in a rush of searing anger. "I'd stake my life on you even knowing what brand of muesli I eat for breakfast, so cut the crap and tell me why you're here."  
    His betraying flush did nothing to ease her rage.
    It might be years , but she knew damn well Leon Karvasis never embarked on anything unless he was fully informed.  
    He caught her hand and held it tightly. "I'm here because Jordan is dying."  
    And in one horrifying moment Veronica's fury evaporated.
    She turned and looked at him, eyes so wide open they hurt, gaze fastened on his face. The breath caught in her throat and then escaped in a rasping rush.
    "Jordan's ill?" she asked in a tortured whisper, grief a barb in her heart. "What's wrong with him?"  
    "He has a virulent strain of leukaemia." Leon raked an unsteady hand through his silver streaked hair, the sun glinting off the gold of his wedding band.  
    Nausea and shock rose up inside her in great debilitating waves. She shook her head in disbelief, eyes closed. Her nails bit crescents deep in her palms. Whatever she'd expected, it wasn't this.
    "Ricki?" At his soft question, she opened her eyes.
    The sky and sea were still the same smoky blue. It was her mind that painted them grey. She struggled to breathe, blood pounded in her temples and sweat dampened her palms. Each shallow, ragged breath inflicted excruciating pain.  
    Not my baby. Dear God not my baby.
    "Without a bone marrow transplant he will die."

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