Yesterday's Sins (13 page)

"Your father is buried here beside your mother," Alex murmured, his hand on her shoulder in silent support. "He bought this double plot when she died."

"He always said he wanted that."

Alex dropped his arm, standing silent as she knelt and laid flowers at the base of the open book. She traced a finger over her parents' names, tears trickling down her cheeks.

I never want to see you again. Ever.
The words, the last she'd ever said to her father were a hollow drumbeat in her mind.
I didn't mean it. I'm so sorry, Daddy.
"

Finally, she went to rise and Alex's hand was there, sure and steady. She leaned against him, absorbing his strength.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his hand supporting her under her elbow.

Kate looked up at him suppressing the urge to wail her grief to the heavens.
 
"I told him I never wanted to see him again."

Alex's harshly indrawn breath was loud in the silence. "When he rang you at Indooroopilly?"

She nodded.
 

"Ah, Cat," Alex held her close and whispered, "Why?"

"I couldn't bear it." The admission tumbled out. "All my life, he was so much tougher on me than he was on Chris. That day he accused me of lying. That's why I visited you."

Alex stiffened, tension radiating from him. "Only to get the same reception from me?"

Kate shivered and moved restively, the past suddenly a living entity between them. Alex dropped his arms. She nodded, looking up at him. "You had more reason. We were strangers and I'd intruded on your grief."

That admission made him wince. "If your father didn't believe you then, you wouldn't see him when he wanted to visit?"
 

Again she nodded, glancing at him. "Something like that."
 

"I've always wondered," he murmured, shaking his head. "At the time, to me your refusal to see your father and twin was illogical. And you've had to live with this ever since."

She nodded, fresh tears welling in her eyes. "My mother always told me to be careful what I wished for."

"Catriona, there's no way you wished your father dead. How can you think that?" He caught her by the shoulders, his hands warm and steady.

"I may not have wished it, but it happened."

"It happened, but you were
not
responsible," he said firmly drawing her close again. For long moments she rested against him, drawing comfort from his warmth and strength.

"And Chris?"

"Over there." He indicated another section of neatly laid out headstones. "Do you want to be alone for a while?"

"No." The last thing she wanted was to be here alone. She needed to feel human warmth, to know she wasn't alone among the dead. "I'll come back another day."

"Come." With these quiet words he led her through to a newer section.

Kate saw the simple marble headstone engraved with her twin's name and her composure shattered.

Strong arms held her securely as she wept. His mellifluous murmur of Greek was as comforting as his arms, the cloying scent of gardenias and lilies bittersweet.

"Feeling better?"

The words made her tearful all over again. What was there about this man that made her treasure his moments of gentleness? In the lonely years of her exile she'd hungered for this tenderness.

She pushed the thought away, it was far too painful.

"A little." She mopped her eyes with the white handkerchief he pushed into her hand, yet another familiar gesture. "Thank you."

Clutching tightly to the life line of his hand, she bent and laid the flowers beside the headstone, before turning away.

"You okay?"
 

A shiver shook her. "Let's go, please."

His hand gripped hers tightly as they turned away. They'd walked a few yards when Kate stopped. He looked down, his eyebrow raised in a query.

"Give me a moment." She freed her hand and walked back to Chris's grave and took a single white lily from the flowers she'd left, and returned to his side.

"Where is Marcos, Alex?" she asked with a watery smile.

For a moment he stared at her, surprised, then without comment, led her along two rows and stopped beside another marble headstone. Kate knelt and laid the lily at its base.

Marcos Korda aged six years. Forever loved.

And far too young to die.

The anguished thought lodged beneath her heart. She touched the headstone, traced a finger over the carved words.

This child's death had changed so many lives. Try as she might, she could never see her twin or her father as lifeless bodies.

Marcos Korda was different.

For years, she'd been haunted by the waxen-pale effigy of a little boy. She stood up and took the hand Alex held out.

"It's so hard to accept he'll never run or play in the sun again."

Alex nodded his expression grave.

"I still remember Chris and Daddy alive and sparkling with energy."

"That's how they would like to be remembered."

She was surprised by his understanding until she remembered. All Alex's family, with the exception of Luke, were buried here.

And Sarah.

Their daughter was a living presence and constraint between them, a subject too fraught for discussion.

But soon, I will decide what to do about Sarah.

Only not today.

In silence, they walked back towards the gates, holding hands. When they reached the car, a chauffeur emerged holding open the car door. Kate looked around for Emily's car.

"I sent it back," Alex said. "Emily is expecting you to return with me."

Hot protest at his arbitrary action rose, and then, with a resigned shrug, she got into the car. She'd been grateful for his support and she needed to talk to him. He slid into the seat beside her and, after speaking to his driver, closed the privacy window.

"Alex." She gripped her hands tightly in her lap. "I owe you an apology. Mr. Carmichael and Dr. Hart have told me about that crash. Why didn't you tell me? And about Daddy having a heart attack?"

He gave one of his expressive shrugs. "I didn't think you needed to be burdened with anything more at the time. With hindsight, I may have made the wrong decision. But there's no way we can change it. All we can do is accept it, and move on."

"I suppose." Now, with the benefit of maturity she understood his reasoning.

After the trauma she'd been through, would knowing of her father's non-fatal heart attack have tipped her over the edge?

Who could say for certain now?

Alex hadn't pandered to her every whim as Dr. Hart suggested. He'd really feared adding to her emotional burden. But decisions made then could never be changed.

Kate stared without seeing, out the car window until Alex's deep voice broke her absorption.

"What are you planning to do?"

She looked at him. "Do?"

"Are you intending to stay here, or go back to Clevedon?" Impatience crept into his voice, his black brows coming down in a forbidding frown.

"I don't know." She twisted her fingers in her lap. The car cruised to a halt outside her old home.

"Will you sell this house? Emily is wondering."

Kate crushed a tiny spurt of anger. Was he impatient to tie up all the loose ends involving her? Want her out of his life so he could write finish with the whole unsavoury episode?

"Don't push me, Alex. I'll decide when I'm ready. I won't put Emily out on the street," she said, adding with gentle sarcasm, "Thank you for the ride home but don't bother coming in. I'm a big girl now."

She opened the car door and stepped from the car, ignoring his tightening lips and thunderous scowl.

Their gazes clashed and her heart leaped as she saw the anger glittering in his grey eyes.

He was not used to being dismissed.

Wry humour surfaced.
 

In a world where everyone pandered to Alex's wealth and influence, she remained immune. Without looking back, Kate let herself into the house, shutting the door with a decided bang that brought Emily from the kitchen. "You're back."

Emily's relief left Kate feeling guilty. "I never meant to worry you. Alex brought me."
 

"You're not angry?"

"No," Kate admitted, surprised by the truth. She unwound the black chiffon scarf. "I can't like Alex, but at times only he understands. Is that stupid?"

"No. A child bonds the most unlikely people together with an unbreakable tie." Emily's eyes dimmed with sadness.

Instinctively, she knew Emily wasn't referring to her and Alex.

The older woman's relationship with Alex's father piqued Kate's curiosity. As Emily went back to the kitchen, she followed, running the black chiffon through her fingers as she watched the older woman set out afternoon tea, before sitting opposite her.

"How did it go?"

"Ghastly." Kate picked up her coffee and sipped at it, desperate for the stimulus.

"It is isn't it?" Emily's grimace was rueful. "It's even more horrifying when you have no legitimate reason to be there. Mistresses have no right to grieve."

The two women, separated by a generation but each bonded by an inescapable tie to men filled with the fierce pride and arrogance of an ancient race, looked at each other with wry understanding.

"Tell me about Alex's father." Kate leaned across the width of the pine table, gripping Emily's hand in silent empathy.

"Dimitri Korda emigrated from Greece after the war. He thrived in Australia. He was strong, in build and in character, and dark, like all his sons with a fierce family honour." Emily toyed with the handle of her coffee mug as she looked backward to something only she could see. "I was eighteen when I met him. His wife, the very beautiful Helen died when young Marcos was born. Dimitri took her death hard."

"How did you meet?"

"At an amusement park." Emily looked up, her eyes twinkling. "His nursemaid took the boys to the park and lost Alex. I found him. He was all of six. Dimitri was summoned. He sacked the nanny on the spot and asked me out to dinner to repay my kindness in looking after a frightened little boy."

Her voice faded away and she stared into the muddy depths of her coffee. She looked at Kate, her expression sad.

"Dimitri swept me off my feet. He was already making a name and fortune for himself and I was absolutely smitten until—"

"Until?" Kate prompted gently when Emily fell silent. "He took me to his home to get to know his boys."

Emily's mouth tightened as she looked at Kate. "A fierce old Greek witch frightened me away. She showed me photos of Helen, a golden haired beauty. Alex has his mother's beautiful eyes."

"Poor you." Kate gripped Emily's restless hand. Memories of the old Greek witch on Maude Island surfaced, the same woman? Would she ever know?