Hana Du Rose Read online

  “It’s fine,” Logan gasped, gripping his side with a white knuckled hand. “I’m a big boy. I’ve had worse.”

  Hana parked and helped Logan into the foyer of the emergency room. She almost lost the piece of paper the doctor gave her for a fast tracked admission, finding it in the back pocket of her jeans at the last minute. The receptionist told them to take a seat and Hana gave Logan the last available chair. She paced up and down amidst the soccer and rugby injuries, worrying and berating herself.

  Logan sulked, sitting with his head against the wall and keeping his eyes closed. When the patient next to him went through to the examination room, Hana plonked into the vacant chair. “I can’t do this,” Logan gasped, raising himself upright. “I need to leave.”

  Hana rested a steadying hand on his knee and leaned closer. “Talk to me,” she whispered. “It’ll take your mind off it.”

  Logan shook his head. “No, I can’t stay here. You don’t understand.”

  “So tell me!” Hana heard the exasperation in her voice and cringed.

  Logan heaved in a breath. “My mother took me to Auckland General with my guts hanging out, Hana. They saw a brown face with a moko tattoo and treated her like dirt. They threatened to put me into foster care because they didn’t believe her excuses for my injuries. A week later, they sent me home with a leaflet. Barry put the paper in the fire, which was a shame as it contained the date for a follow-up appointment. Jack took out the stitches in the barn with a scalpel and treated the infection with blobs of Manuka honey under swabs of cloth.” He exhaled, his complexion looking greyer by the second. “Don’t make me do this, Hana.”

  She ran the sleeve of her sweatshirt across his fevered brow. “You’re sick, Logan. I’ll stay with you.”

  His eyelashes fluttered and he snorted, a sarcastic sound. “Yeah, my ma said that. She bloody lied.”

  “I’m not your mother.” Hana leaned closer and kissed his temple. “I’m your wife. I’ll leave when they force me to and not before.”

  Logan’s eyes rolled as he struggled to stay conscious. “He burned it. Barry burned it.”

  “I know.” Hana rubbed his brow again, her sleeve becoming wet. “But you were kids.”

  Logan’s head thrashed against the back of the seat. “My discharge notice. He put it in the fire. He hated me.”

  Hana opened her mouth to speak and then thought better of it. Logan sounded distressed and she sensed she only compounded his misery. His lucidity returned and he tried to sit up. “Ignore me,” he said. “I don’t need you to stay.”

  “Don’t be daft,” she admonished him. “I’ll stay with you. I promised.”

  “I’ll be fine, I always am.”

  “Logan.” Hana’s brow creased in concern at his obvious reluctance. “Whatever’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said and the shutters came down over his emotions, blocking them from view once again. Hana held his hand, feeling his fingers flex against hers.

  The triage nurse came for him and Logan shrugged off Hana’s attempts to accompany him. “I’ll be fine,” he said, his tone distant. “You go home and I’ll phone you when I’m done.”

  Hana sat for two hours and Logan didn’t return. Bodie arrived with Amy in tow and they sat in silence with her. Other patients left sporting casts on arms and legs, bandages swathing their bodies. Still no Logan. Bodie saw Amy to the door as she left to fetch Jas, calling at the reception desk on his way past. Hana saw him making polite enquiries and getting nothing in return. Bodie fetched a coffee Hana couldn’t drink and sat with her for another two hours.

  “Mrs Du Rose.” A male nurse appeared from behind a closed door and looked around him.

  “Here!” Bodie stood and waved him over. The man approached with a smile, finding Hana already standing by the time he reached her. “Your husband needed surgery,” he said, his face radiating kindness.

  Hana sank into the seat and felt the walls close in around her. “Oh, no!” she groaned.

  The nurse squatted in front of her. “It’s going well and he’s expected out in the next few hours.”

  Hana nodded. “Should I just wait here?” she asked and the man shook his head. “The surgical ward closed to visitors an hour ago. I suggest you go home and get some rest.”

  Bodie snorted, a horrid, derisive noise. “Are you kidding me?”

  Hana shook her head. “I’m going nowhere until I’ve seen my husband,” she replied. Her response sounded more aggressive than she intended. She added with a tremble in her voice, “I’m appalled you’d even ask.”

  The nurse gave her directions to the surgical ward and the woman in charge let Hana sit in a tiny waiting room. She watched through enormous windows as lights winked on and off in Hamilton and traffic became sporadic. After a while, darkness left little of interest on the unchanging landscape. Hana tipped forward in her seat and buried her face in her hands. “I’m so angry at you, Logan,” she whispered. “You didn’t tell me how bad it hurt and now you keep me away from you.”

  Bodie patted her back in sympathy and made noises about leaving. “I need to go, Mum,” he said, sounding apologetic.

  Hana nodded, venting her anger in a different direction. “I want you to arrest Tama,” she said, standing. “He caused this. I want him convicted.”

  Bodie shook his head. “Logan needs to make a statement. He’s the injured party.”

  “But he won’t!” Hana raised her voice. “Why won’t you help me?”

  Bodie backed away with his hands raised. “Don’t complain to me now it’s all going wrong.” He stuck his jaw out and Hana resisted the urge to scream at him. “You chose this, Mum,” he said, sounding victorious.

  Hana shook her head and stared at the darkness outside. “You need to go,” she said, her tone flat. “I’ll find Tama myself and do some serious damage of my own.”

  “Don’t do that.” Bodie kissed the top of her head. “I don’t want to arrest you.”

  Logan stayed in surgery until after midnight, wheeled into the ward looking grey and sick. Hana burst into tears at the sight of him, sobbing over his hand. She caressed the ink stains from his marking hours ago and wished she could turn the clock back. Logan gave her a lopsided smile but didn’t speak. Monitors clattered around his body, adding to the sense of unreality.

  As Hana stood back from the bed, the ward staff made it abundantly clear she should leave, tipping her out without ceremony into the deserted hospital. She drove back to Culver’s Cottage to find the house lit up like a Christmas tree and Bodie’s BMW on the driveway.

  Bodie and Amy stared at her from the kitchen doorway as she kicked her boots off. “How is he?” Amy asked, her face set in a genuine expression of sympathy.

  Hana sighed. “Poorly.” Her shoulders slumped and she responded to Amy’s gentle hand on her arm. “I’m glad you’re here.” Tears prickled behind her eyelids and she held her breath. Logan’s jacket lay on the floor next to the pile of paint tins, wallpaper and fabric. Hana squeezed her eyes closed, but the tears tumbled over and bounced down her cheeks. “It’s all my fault,” she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. The jacket condemned her selfishness and amplified her guilt. “I made him go shopping with me and he must’ve been in agony.”

  The thing Hana discovered about showing distress in the company of police officers is they automatically reached for the kettle. They demanded facts, not feelings as they dispensed practical help. Hana confessed the unadulterated story of Logan’s injuries, adding her observations of the strange Du Rose family. Bodie shook his head. “I told you they were trouble,” he said, his tone victorious. Gratified, Hana saw Amy kick him under the table.

  “You certainly picked a dysfunctional family to join,” he crowed. His orange juice slopped onto the table as Amy slapped him hard on the arm.

  “Thanks! Define dysfunctional, asshole! Me and Jas have been a dysfunctional family by the world’s standards!”

  A look
of shame crossed Bodie’s face. He tried to improve the slight by including Hana in his generalisation. “I guess we were too really,” he said looking to her for support. “You were a solo mum.”

  “Not by choice!” Hana let the indignation infiltrate her voice. “Logan has two parents. By your measure his family isn’t dysfunctional.”

  Bodie shook his head and sighed. “I can’t win this,” he said. “I’ll check on my son.”

  Amy smiled at his disappearing back, waiting until his feet padded down the hallway into Jas’ temporary bedroom. “You’re doing really well, you know. It must have been a terrible shock.”

  Hana exhaled. “I once heard a saying. It said, ‘To lose one husband is an accident, to lose two is careless.’ It almost happened again.” She swallowed. “I can’t lose Logan.” Desolation snaked its spiteful tendrils around her heart and her chest hitched.

  Amy cleared her throat. “I meant finding out about Jas. It must’ve given you a shock.”

  “Oh, yes.” Hana ran a hand through her fringe, snagging her fingers in the tangled red coils. “I suppose so.”

  “I always loved Bo,” Amy said and her face glowed when she said his name. “It seems we were victims of catastrophe.” Her brow narrowed and Hana saw the years of regret in her face.

  “Tell me about yourself,” Hana said, craving distraction from frenzied thoughts of Logan’s plight.

  “I’m six years older than Bo,” Amy said, a degree of challenge in her statement. “Does that bother you?”

  “Not at all.” Hana shook her head and sighed. “I’m older than Logan.” Even saying her husband’s name sent a dart of pain into her chest. The doctor said his prognosis was good, but a few days later, it might not have been the same story.

  Amy continued, “I’m on reasonable terms with my ex-husband. In a Christmas card sending kind of way.”

  Hana nodded. “I guess that’s important for closure.”

  Amy agreed. “Yeah. It wasn’t his fault I cheated.” Her tone held regret. “I didn’t intend to. It just happened.”

  “That’s what they all say.” Hana’s comment sounded barbed and she held her breath. “Sorry, I’m making a mess of this.”

  Amy reached across the table and took her hand. “You look exhausted,” she said, her voice soft. “Go to bed. We can talk more tomorrow.”

  Hana rang the hospital to check on Logan. The nurse on the other end of the call sounded harried and told her he’d slept since the operation. “He’s having regular observations,” she said with a yawn. “He’s comfortable.”

  Hana jumped awake the next morning to a deafening knock on her bedroom door, followed by a high-pitched giggle in the hall. “Shh!” She recognised Amy’s voice from the safety of her duvet.

  She sat up and pulled her nightdress straight. “Come in,” she called, greeted by Jas bounding through the door. He carried a cup of hot tea and Hana noticed a nauseating floaty scum on the surface. Amy followed, brandishing a piece of kitchen towel. The tell-tale brown streaks betrayed some heavy duty spillage along the hallway.

  “Here you go.” Jas placed his burden on the bedside table, clambering up onto the bed.

  “Sorry,” Amy hissed, lifting the cup to mop underneath. “He wanted to wake you up with a nice cup of tea.”

  “Morning Granny!” Jas beamed with enthusiasm and climbed under the sumptuous duvet. Hana’s heart sank. Every time the child called her ‘Granny’ she cringed. The bouncy, four-year-old made up his own rules to this new game and Hana conceded she didn’t like all of them. She held her arms out and he snuggled into her with a groan of pleasure.

  “How about a competition?” she said, putting excitement into her voice. “Let’s find the best ever name for you to call me? Everybody has a ‘granny,’ but I’d rather like something different.”

  “Sorry.” Amy perched at the end of the bed and winced. “It never occurred to me.”

  Hana watched the cogs turn in Jas’ little brain and his dark curls bounced as he wiggled his head in concentration. “Okay,” he said with deliberate slowness. “We could have prizes and a naming party and I could ask all my friends.” He got up and slipped from the bed. “I’ll think of some good ones.” He bounced around the room. “Granny, Nanny, Nonie, Oma.” His eyes widened as he twirled on the spot. “There are heaps!” He bounded from the room to engage Bodie in his intrigue.

  Hana rubbed her eyes and sighed. “I should ring the hospital and check on Logan.”

  Amy traced the pattern on the duvet cover. Her slender index finger blotted out a daisy. “This has been hard for you,” she said with feeling. “I wanted you to know I really appreciate how amazing you’ve been over it all. You haven’t judged us and I’m grateful.”

  Hana’s body slumped in the giant bed. “I don’t feel I’ve done anything worthwhile,” she said. “Maybe I should let him call me ‘Granny.’ But I don’t know if I can.” Her smile seemed wistful. “The doctors say Elizabeth won’t ever speak so I never considered what I might like to be called. Granny makes me think of a creaky hundred-year-old.”

  Amy patted Hana’s shoulder. “You don’t look it.” She smiled and turned to leave the room, halting with something on her mind. “Don’t drink your tea,” she said, chewing her bottom lip. “Jas said it was English Breakfast Tea and I suspect he put peanut butter in it. I’ll get you another one.”

  Hana sank into the covers, sliding her hand across to Logan’s cold, empty side. After a week of sharing a bed, she adjusted to his presence with natural ease. She missed him with a tangible ache. “I can’t even phone you because I ditched yours into the gully,” she whispered into his soft pillow.

  Hana sat up and reached for her mobile phone charging next to the bed. She fumbled the cup of tea and peered into the bottom. A brown scum littered the top and she crinkled her nose at the distinctive scent of peanuts. Staring at the screen until her eyes became unfocussed, she texted the message.

  ‘Logan’s in the hospital. Tama broke his arm and did internal damage. Keep away from him, Anka. Stay where you are. Bo says Ivan has filed a missing report for you. Be careful. H. x’

  With no reply, Hana got up and used the landline to check on her husband. The nurse used that same word, comfortable, again. “Visiting hours start at eleven,” said the disembodied voice on the other end of the call.

  Hana disregarded the information, showering and dressing early. “I want to be there when the ward opens,” she told her guests. “I need to see him for myself.”

  “How about I drop you off, Mum,” Bodie offered. “We’re sorting out my new room today.”

  “I’d be so grateful!” Hana gushed. “I hate that multi-storey car park.”

  Jas bounced around like a wind-up toy, shouting out possible names for Hana. Amy regained enough control to wash and dress him and settled him down with a drink at the kitchen table. He intermittently pestered Bodie. He called him ‘Dad,’ with great gusto and enjoyment.

  Hana watched the child with interest. He reminded her of a younger version of his father. Despite the lack of contact, the mannerisms and idiosyncrasies fascinated her. As Amy took Jas out into the hall to get his shoes on, Hana reached out and held Bodie’s forearm. “He calls you Dad,” she whispered. “You need to get this right, Bo. You’ll do him irreparable damage if you get it wrong.”

  Bodie nodded, putting his hand over hers. “I know, Mum. Whatever happens between Amy and me, I’ll always be his dad and I won’t trade that for anything. My dad screwed it up. I don’t intend to copy him.”

  “What?” Hana’s smile faltered. “He died, Bo. You can’t hold him responsible for that.” She put the bad memory to the back of her mind, brushing it off in her present turmoil and dismissing it as Bodie’s amateur dramatics.

  They travelled to town in Bodie’s car, with Jas and Hana in the back. Jas bounced into the car, stuck his thumb straight into his mouth and went to sleep before they reached the gate. She thought again
how amazing the child was. “Cute boy,” she whispered and stroked his other hand, gratified when his fingers clasped around hers.

  They spat Hana out at the hospital before eleven. She made her way up to the ward, joined by a queue of people waiting to gain entry. She pitied some of the unfortunates inside as she observed their visitors. One family ate an entire packet of grapes and a box of chocolates in the ten minutes by the sliding doors, entering empty handed. Another group contained a screaming toddler which showed no sign of letting up the dreadful wail. One elderly gentleman spat phlegm into a filthy hanky, without embarrassment.

  As the guests filed past, Hana stopped to check the board showing patients’ names and trying to locate Logan. A hand snaked around her waist, making her jump in fright. “Hey gorgeous.” Logan pushed his face into her neck, breathing in the lingering scent of shampoo on her hair. Hana spun around and put her arms around his neck, tugging him into her. His hair felt wet and he wore yesterday’s clothes. “I missed you so much.” His voice sounded sultry and despite his ragged appearance, Hana found him as sexy as ever.

  As she pulled away, she noticed the metal thing he held onto. Like a tall coat hanger with a bag of fluid dangling from the top, it bore another sack of awful red looking stuff. Logan pushed it around like a gruesome shopping trolley with horrid things clinging to its frame. The higher bag containing clear liquid sent a tube into Logan’s hand, but the pipe from the red one disappeared under his shirt, ending somewhere inside. Hana felt appalled and the severity of it hit her afresh. “I missed you so much,” she sniffed, trying not to tear up as they walked back to Logan’s bed. He trailed his new apparatus without complaint and Hana tried to think of encouraging sentences.

  “I brought you clean clothes.” With trembling fingers, she unpacked the small black bag containing Logan’s wash things, razor and a change of clothes and undies. Knowing the reputation of hospital food, she also produced an unopened packet of biscuits and some chocolate bars. “I thought you’d be flat on your back in bed.” Hana’s smile wavered as she fought for control. “I didn’t expect you to be up and about already.”