You know! Goddamn you, Jason.” Her voice began to shake in her throat. Her eyes turned to a diamond dazzle of pure fury. Deliberately she brought up her left hand that bore his ring and slapped him hard as she could across his taut handsome face. It left a red stain on his tanned skin and little spurts of blood where the setting of the ring had caught him. “I want you to leave,” she said with the greatest contempt. “Here’s your ring though it meant precious little to you.” She tore the solitaire diamond ring off her finger, hurling it at him, all fierce disgust. “I never want to see you again.” She was choking with anger and grief. “Go away, Jason Corey. Go away and never come back.”
Jason came out of his reverie as a huge smoke-grimed hand came in the open window of the ute and touched his shoulder. It startled him. “Bruno?”
“Are you all right, mate?” Bruno, who had been driving one of the tractors looked in at him with concern. “It must be boiling in the ute. I’m goin’ over to the shed for a cold beer. Want one?”
Jason blinked hard, hoping his expression wasn’t as stricken as he felt. The memories that had come rushing back had been more vivid than they had been in a long time. “No thanks, Bruno,” he said, surprised his voice sounded so normal. “You go right ahead. We’re making good progress. Mr. Linfield has asked me to join him.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d better get going.”
“See ya later then, boss.” Bruno, a giant of a man stood away from the ute, giving Jason a quick salute as he drove away.
He had to get shot of the sense of hopelessness and futility that had overwhelmed him, Jason thought. It had come right out of the blue. Memories had a tendency to do that. With the passing of time he had convinced himself he was getting better and better at holding himself together. He was nowhere near the strong, self-sufficient figure most people thought him. All it needed was a chink opening onto the past for him to fall into a black void. Why were his memories bothering him today? He didn’t even dream about Liv much anymore. He’d learned to keep a tight rein on himself, even his subconscious. He had responsibilities. Harry had come to depend on him more and more. Jason was virtually running Havilah these days.
“You’re my right hand man, Jason. I’m closer to you than I am to anybody outside my dear Olivia.”
Tough as nails, him. A very fast learner. Harry had never had cause to tell him anything twice anymore than the owner of Caramba Station who’d done everything in his power to get Jason to stay on. His mother’s final illness-cancer—and quick death had brought him home. It had been a very, very difficult time. He’d loved his mother as he’d come to despise his absent father. But life went on. He had his little daughter, Tali to take care of. He had to make life right for her She was a wonderful little kid with his deep blue eyes. He saw little, if anything, of Megan in her. Her thick, silky black curls spoke to him of her Italian heritage though she hadn’t inherited the olive skin.
He was nearing the house when he saw Harry sitting on a garden bench down by the lagoon with its flotilla of exquisite water lilies, pink, cream and the sacred blue lotus. For some reason he couldn’t fully understand Jason felt disturbed by something in Harry’s attitude. He brought the ute to a halt, stepping out onto the gravelled drive. Harry didn’t look up so he cupped his hands around his mouth, calling Harry’s name. It was too hot for Harry to walk uphill to the homestead.
This time he expected Harry to turn his head and wave acknowledgement, except Harry didn’t budge. He continued to stare ahead at the glittering green sheet of water.
Jason found himself sprinting down across the thick, springy lawn. “Harry?” He’d had so many shocks in his life he was coming to expect the worst as a matter of course.
No answer from Harry’s still form.
He was there, bending over to stare into Harry’s face half concealed by the wide brim of his familiar white panama.
Harry! Dear Harry! Dear friend! Was loss the norm? Jason rested his hand lovingly on his mentor’s thin shoulder. For want of a male role model in life Harry Linfield had become that. Harry had known all about his inconsolable grief when he lost Olivia. An open paper bag containing little morsels of bread had fallen at Harry’s feet, scattering crumbs over the emerald-green grass. It gave Jason some comfort Harry’s expression was so peaceful. He must have passed away feeding his beloved black swans. Jason stared out across the arum lily lined lagoon and silently said a prayer.
It was only when he had Harry back at the house with Gracie crying her heart out Jason began to think of the ramifications of Harry’s death. Olivia would have to be notified immediately. Olivia was Harry’s nearest and dearest, his heiress. Grace would have to do that if he could ever stop her crying. The last thing Liv would want was to hear from him. As far as Liv was concerned he was still managing an Outback cattle station. Harry had never told her of the big changes on Havilah or the fact he had hired Jason Corey to run it. Harry had never explained the reasons why. They both knew Liv would have reacted with horror, there was no question about that. So Olivia was never told.
With Havilah in Olivia’s hands he would have to move on. This, when Tali had come to love the place. Jason determined he wasn’t going to leave until he’d placed Harry’s favourite crimson roses on his grave.
CHAPTER THREE
OLIVIA took a much earlier flight than planned. When she rang Doctor Hilary Lockwood, the head of Ormiston Girls Grammar, with her sad news, Doctor Lockwood was most sympathetic. She assured Olivia there was no need whatever for her to attend school the following day. They would miss her at the break-up party—Olivia had been closely involved in the preparation—but everyone would understand she’d be in no mood for celebrations. Doctor Lockwood expressed her sincere sympathies one more time, thanking Olivia for all her efforts on behalf of the school during the year. They had been well noted.
Olivia decided in advance once she reached her destination she would ring Grace to arrange for someone to pick her up at the terminal. Grace would know better than to enlist Jason Corey’s help. The previous night she had lain awake into the small hours, grieving for her dear Harry, trying to come up with reasons why Jason Corey would have been at Havilah when Harry died.
Had he come home to be with his mother perhaps? Antonella Corey had not enjoyed good health. Some said the rapid deterioration had started after her husband had abandoned her. Had Jason’s grandmother, Renata, died? Hard to believe. Renata was ageless. Larger than life. But that was foolish. There were always massive changes in life. Sometimes it was hard for Olivia to believe she’d been away for so many years.
Was it something to do with Megan’s family? She had no real idea of anything that was happening in that part of the world. She had cut herself off. She rarely if ever thought of Megan Duffy. Megan had been guilty of the ageless betrayal—she had stolen another woman’s man, whether premeditated or not. Olivia didn’t want to think about Megan Duffy. Not ever! She refused to think of her as Jason’s wife, much less could she bear to think of her as the mother of Jason’s child. That role had belonged to her. It had been ordained.
What a wide-eyed innocent she had been. She no longer wept about it. It was the stuff of fiction. Love and betrayal. A rival’s deceit. It had become clear to her over the years Megan had been in love with Jason, not that Megan was the only one. If anyone could be said to have sexual radiance it was Jason Corey. Women were powerfully attracted to him. They thought him gorgeous, his wonderful colouring, the fine modelling of his bone structure, the way he carried his splendid body. Sex appeal beat around Jason in molten waves.
But he was hers. She’d been so sure of him—she had never for one moment doubted Jason’s love—she had never been beset by jealousy
