into our care. You must support her through her labour."
"Well rule me out." Julia's lips were a thin angry line.
"If you won't then I will."
Leon was as coldly angry as I'd ever seen him and Julia, adamant in her refusal. Reasons she never divulged to Leon. To me she showed a different face.
"You deserve to be alone," she whispered harshly, when Leon left the room. "It's your punishment for breaking up a marriage."
—even now, Veronica struggled to understand how Julia came by that notion.
Did Julia blame me for breaking up a marriage I never knew existed?
During her labour, Leon stayed with her, rubbed her back and talked nonsense to distract her. For twenty rugged hours she drew on his strength. And when it was over it was Leon who placed Jordan, wet and bloody, in her arms.
At some point during those long pain-filled hours an enduring link was forged between them, a link that still bound them despite time and distance.
Veronica met his gaze. "I never did thank you."
Leon's eyes darkened before he lowered his lashes.
"It wasn't necessary." He lowered his head and laid a brief, tender kiss on her lips. "You gave us a gift beyond price."
Veronica turned to the basin and scrubbed her hands, memories crowding her.
Sometime during her time at Claremont and giving birth, her love for Yannis died. In its place had grown a deep, abiding love for his strong, forceful brother.
And despite time, separation and starved of contact, Veronica had only to see Leon in that nightclub and she knew she'd love him until she took her last breath. And after being at Claremont for less than a day, she knew Leon still loved his dead wife.
Chapter Eight
"R eady?"
With a quivering breath, she nodded. Leon held a mask and she turned and he tied it for her. She pulled a paper cap over her hair.
"Let's visit our son." He held out a hand but she shook her head.
Our son. The words hit her with all the force of a fist to the solar plexus. Since the hour of his birth, Jordan had never been hers. And no matter how much she regretted her decision now, she had surrendered that right.
Jordan tossed restlessly, his sickly pallor intensified by a hectic flush. "Daddy? Daddy where are you? Mummy?"
The harsh croak barely parted his fever-cracked lips. His cries cracked Veronica's heart until it was as brittle as crazed glass. Jordan doesn't want me, he's calling Julia .
She pushed aside her hurt and took his hot hands in hers. She may not be the mother he was crying for, but ties of the heart bound her just as tightly to this sick little boy.
She laid a hand on his forehead. He was burning up.
"I'm here sweetheart," she murmured. "I'm right here."
With a grip that held surprising strength, he caught her hand. "Don't leave me, Mummy. Don't go away again."
"I won't leave you." Veronica took the tepid flannel from Leon and began sponging Jordan's face, neck and torso.
"Keep sponging him," the nurse whispered softly. "We have to get his temperature down. The antibiotics aren't working."
For hours Veronica sponged, talking softly to soothe Jordan's wild ramblings.
Leon turned him and changed wet towels for dry ones. He winced when Jordan cried out in pain. Nurses came and went, replenishing water and towels.
Several times during those hours Professor Carey and another doctor examined Jordan, their grave expressions doing little to ease her worry. At intervals a nurse administered antibiotics and replaced the life-giving intravenous drip.
Sometime after the soft grey of dawn crept into the corners, the doctor bent over Jordan, listening to his chest. He glanced from her to Leon, and smiled.
"Keep it up. I believe we're winning."
Veronica saw beads of perspiration break on Jordan's forehead.
For one terrified moment she thought they'd lost the battle but the beatific glow in the nurse's eyes reassured her.
Jordan's fever had broken and he was sleeping, harsh breaths eased
"Well rule me out." Julia's lips were a thin angry line.
"If you won't then I will."
Leon was as coldly angry as I'd ever seen him and Julia, adamant in her refusal. Reasons she never divulged to Leon. To me she showed a different face.
"You deserve to be alone," she whispered harshly, when Leon left the room. "It's your punishment for breaking up a marriage."
—even now, Veronica struggled to understand how Julia came by that notion.
Did Julia blame me for breaking up a marriage I never knew existed?
During her labour, Leon stayed with her, rubbed her back and talked nonsense to distract her. For twenty rugged hours she drew on his strength. And when it was over it was Leon who placed Jordan, wet and bloody, in her arms.
At some point during those long pain-filled hours an enduring link was forged between them, a link that still bound them despite time and distance.
Veronica met his gaze. "I never did thank you."
Leon's eyes darkened before he lowered his lashes.
"It wasn't necessary." He lowered his head and laid a brief, tender kiss on her lips. "You gave us a gift beyond price."
Veronica turned to the basin and scrubbed her hands, memories crowding her.
Sometime during her time at Claremont and giving birth, her love for Yannis died. In its place had grown a deep, abiding love for his strong, forceful brother.
And despite time, separation and starved of contact, Veronica had only to see Leon in that nightclub and she knew she'd love him until she took her last breath. And after being at Claremont for less than a day, she knew Leon still loved his dead wife.
Chapter Eight
"R eady?"
With a quivering breath, she nodded. Leon held a mask and she turned and he tied it for her. She pulled a paper cap over her hair.
"Let's visit our son." He held out a hand but she shook her head.
Our son. The words hit her with all the force of a fist to the solar plexus. Since the hour of his birth, Jordan had never been hers. And no matter how much she regretted her decision now, she had surrendered that right.
Jordan tossed restlessly, his sickly pallor intensified by a hectic flush. "Daddy? Daddy where are you? Mummy?"
The harsh croak barely parted his fever-cracked lips. His cries cracked Veronica's heart until it was as brittle as crazed glass. Jordan doesn't want me, he's calling Julia .
She pushed aside her hurt and took his hot hands in hers. She may not be the mother he was crying for, but ties of the heart bound her just as tightly to this sick little boy.
She laid a hand on his forehead. He was burning up.
"I'm here sweetheart," she murmured. "I'm right here."
With a grip that held surprising strength, he caught her hand. "Don't leave me, Mummy. Don't go away again."
"I won't leave you." Veronica took the tepid flannel from Leon and began sponging Jordan's face, neck and torso.
"Keep sponging him," the nurse whispered softly. "We have to get his temperature down. The antibiotics aren't working."
For hours Veronica sponged, talking softly to soothe Jordan's wild ramblings.
Leon turned him and changed wet towels for dry ones. He winced when Jordan cried out in pain. Nurses came and went, replenishing water and towels.
Several times during those hours Professor Carey and another doctor examined Jordan, their grave expressions doing little to ease her worry. At intervals a nurse administered antibiotics and replaced the life-giving intravenous drip.
Sometime after the soft grey of dawn crept into the corners, the doctor bent over Jordan, listening to his chest. He glanced from her to Leon, and smiled.
"Keep it up. I believe we're winning."
Veronica saw beads of perspiration break on Jordan's forehead.
For one terrified moment she thought they'd lost the battle but the beatific glow in the nurse's eyes reassured her.
Jordan's fever had broken and he was sleeping, harsh breaths eased
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