by K T Bowes
Logan reached over to soothe her and Hana felt his stubble graze her skin. “Hana, the baby’s fine with a strong heartbeat. As soon as the pain meds kick in, the nurse will take us for an ultrasound scan.” His face hardened and his upper lip raised in a snarl. “The guy isn’t dead yet. But five minutes with me and he’ll wish more than a headache on himself!”
Hana cried, her distress communicating itself to the child. Logan’s tone grew fearful as an erratic heartbeat drew staggered lines on the graph paper spewing from the machine. “Hana, it’s not your fault,” he said over the sound of her sobs. He used the cuff of his shirt to wipe the tears away. “Stop!” he told her and communicated seriousness through his narrowed eyes. “Enough, Hana. This isn’t helping.”
Her breath came in gasps and she grappled for control. Hysteria offered the easiest route, letting it run with her until she collapsed from the effort. Logan’s earnest expression and the deep lines in his forehead drew her back, forcing her to face the consequences of her actions. “I’ve never got a speeding fine or a parking ticket.” She hiccoughed as her lungs went into spasm. “Now I’m a felon.”
“You’re not.” Logan ran a washcloth under a nearby tap and wiped her fiery cheeks and forehead. Hana gasped in shock at the coolness. “The cops are fine about it.”
“Fine.” Hana seized on his words and missed the point. “They’ll fine me. What if I can’t pay? I hit a man, a lamp post and a police station. What will I do?”
“Nothing.” Logan ran the cloth under her chin and around her neck. The wetness distracted her. “I’ll sort everything out.”
“I should’ve said no to the biology teacher,” she hiccoughed.
“Yep.” Logan hung the cloth over the sink and let the side down on Hana’s bed. He lay in the empty space next to her slender frame and rested his palm over her stomach. His proximity acted as a soothing balm and her chest hitched less. “Is this how you felt?” he whispered, careful not to jolt her body in reaching for the fingers of her left hand. “Like the world might end?”
“When Tama hurt you?” Hana turned her head so she could face him. “Yes.”
“Then I’m really bloody sorry.” Logan lifted her fingers to his lips and closed his eyes. “I get it now. I never want to feel like that again.”
Logan kept back any confession of his desperate prayers. But he knew heaven responded and gratitude pricked at his conscience. Hana’s God existed and it left him feeling more lost than before. Hana cried until sleep and the drugs claimed her. Her lungs hitched from the occasional memory of her sobs. Logan held her hand after a night of worry and exhaustion, dozing off next to her. A police detective visited and left without disturbing them.
The nurse saved Logan from falling backwards off the bed. She tapped his shoulder, jumping backwards in fright as he gripped her wrist with force. “Sorry!” he hissed, releasing her. She took a step back, rubbing the bone, her eyebrows narrowing in fear. Logan placed his feet on the tiled floor and ran a hand through his hair.
“I thought you might fall.” The nurse backed towards the door and Logan shook his head.
“You startled me. I apologise.” He turned towards Hana’s sleeping figure. “How is she?”
“Doing better.” The nurse plastered a fake smile on her face and Logan recognised her reluctance to approach him. He’d frightened her.
He rubbed his eyes and shook his head, the grogginess of sleep still heavy on his shoulders. The nurse took pity on him but kept her distance. “You’re no good to her if you don’t take care of yourself,” she said. “There’s a kitchen along the corridor. Make yourself coffee and I’ll do her observations and check baby’s heart rate. Your wife is due for her scan soon.”
Logan took the hint and shuffled from the room, sending a glance back at Hana as he paused in the doorway. “Call me if she wakes?” He framed it as a question but the nurse heard the order beneath.
Logan returned with black coffee and found Hana stirring. The sound of the baby’s heartbeat chugged along as background noise, the volume lowered. “Logan?” The panicked half-shout made him spill his drink and he dumped it by the sink to go to her.
“I’m here. You’re safe.”
“The men are coming. They’re gonna hurt me.” Her frightened jabbering made the nurse look differently upon Logan’s earlier reaction.
“Nobody’s gonna hurt you.” He gritted his teeth and sat on the bed next to her. He gripped her fingers in his hand. “This is a private hospital, Hana. If they’re looking for you in the state system, they’ll come up empty.”
“Promise?” Her wide green eyes struck pity and anger into his soul at the same time.
“Yes. The detective instructed the hospital not to give details about you to anyone. If they come looking for you here, the cops will know.” He gritted his teeth. “So will I.”
Hana nodded and accepted the beaker of water he held to her lips. She took a sip and gulped. “What about the cost though?” she rasped.
“I’ve covered it.” Logan’s brows narrowed and he felt the nurse watching him. Her stance softened as she saw him stroke Hana’s fringe back from her eyes. “Don’t worry about anything. Just get well so I can take you home.”
Hana nodded and eyed the beaker again. Her tongue poked out and licked her lips. Without waiting for her to ask, Logan held it so she could sip, wiping the drops from her chin with his fingers.
“Mr Du Rose?” A male voice spoke from the doorway and Logan whipped around, opening his arms to shield Hana from the newcomer. The detective blinked, but made no comment at the dark aggression in Logan’s eyes.
“It’s just us,” Bodie said, nodding to him as he walked to the end of the bed. “Hey, Mum. How are you?”
Hana swallowed. “I’m not sure.” She shot a frightened look at Logan. “But I guess I’m in trouble.”
Bodie shrugged. “I doubt it. It sounds like a mixture of self-defense and accident.” He fiddled with the clipboard at the end of the bed. “I heard about the incident over the radio and knew when they mentioned Achilles Rise you’d be messed up in it somehow.”
The detective stepped forward and Hana picked up a hint of antagonism between him and Logan. She watched her husband ball his fists and wondered.
“Your Achilles Rise house is cordoned off at the moment while the forensic team look through it.”
“What about the man I knocked over?” Hana’s voice broke and Logan reached out and rubbed her shoulder.
“I told you not to worry about it,” he said, his tone menacing. “Liza’s a lawyer, remember? But you won’t need her.” He squared his shoulders and glared at Odering with a challenge in his eyes. “Will she?”
Odering gave the nurse a pointed look and hesitated. Her eyes darted from one man to the other as though anticipating trouble. Bodie smiled at her. “It’s fine,” he reassured. “This pissing contest can go on all night, believe me.”
“I remember it.” Hana’s chest hitched. “The sound as he hit the bonnet and the look on his face. Pete will never forgive me for banging up his car.”
Bodie snorted. “Will he notice? The thing’s a heap.”
The nurse collected her medications’ trolley and left. Odering cocked his head as though listening to it wheel along the corridor. “This whole thing is unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate?” A sarcastic laugh issued from between Logan’s lips. “Is that the new name for it nowadays?”
“What will happen to me?” Hana begged. “Will I go to prison?”
“No!” All three men answered at the same time.
“Excuse me.” A man in a hospital uniform peered at a list in his hand. “I’m here for Mrs Du Rose.”
“Who are you?” Bodie took a protective step forward and Logan winced and chewed on his bottom lip.
“It’s okay,” he said, reaching to clasp Hana’s fingers.
Odering moved aside as the orderly unhooked wires and plugs from behind Hana
’s bed. His crisp detective’s suit rustled as he wandered towards the window. Glancing at the machine monitoring the baby’s heart, he looked back at Hana in surprise. “Well this puts a different complexion on things,” he mused. He tapped the machine with an index finger and pulled his lips into a straight line.
“What does?” Suspicious, Bodie moved across to Odering and stared at the machine. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
Odering shrugged and dug his hands into his trouser pockets. He rocked back on his heels. “How is your baby?”
“What?” Bodie moved his face in front of the detective’s, as though proximity might cancel out the unexpected announcement. “What baby?”
Hana blew out a breath of panic and looked to Logan. Her fingers trembled in his. He inhaled, ready to cover for her if she couldn’t say the words. He sensed it should come from her.
“I wanted to tell you,” she said, her green eyes wide like emeralds. “I’m expecting a baby next January.” She looked down at her stomach and then across at her poleaxed son. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”
“You’re pregnant?” Bodie swallowed. The words sounded awful on his lips. “This is a sick joke right?”
“Okay. I might leave you and finish taking your statement another time.” Odering nodded to Hana, ignored Logan and left the room. He didn’t look back at the devastation caused by his calculated slip.
Bodie shook his head and the slump of his shoulders oozed betrayal. “You’re a grandmother,” he hissed. “What were you thinking?”
“Hey!” Logan’s eyes flashed like gimlets and a flush crept up his neck. He bit his tongue to stop him commenting that at least they were married, unlike him and Amy. And to each other. Instead, he shook his head. “That’s enough.”
Hana watched as her son bolted for the door. “I need to go,” he said and left without looking back.
The orderly made no comment as he pushed Hana into a darkened room. The wide doorway struggled to accommodate the machinery accompanying her. Logan looked more nervous than she’d ever seen him and she reached out to stroke his hand. “They took that heartbeat machine off,” he whispered, fear in his eyes. “Is that okay?”
“It’s fine,” Hana soothed. “It’s a monitor, not life support.” She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes, listening to the plink of fluid dripping from an overhead bag. She imagined it seeping through her veins and removing the pain.
The female technician arrived and distracted Logan. Having missed the punk rock era whilst growing up at a private all boys’ school, he stared open mouthed at her. When she dimmed the lights, her piercings glittered in the glow from the computer screen and her black lipstick appeared vampirish. He swallowed and widened his eyes at Hana. The technician’s spiked hair moved little as she bent to dribble gel onto Hana’s bare stomach. “I tried to warm it up,” she said with a smile that displayed a tooth jewel. She moved the gel around with the end of the probe and then took a seat. “Let’s take a look at this baby,” she said with forced confidence.
Logan clutched Hana’s slender fingers in both his big hands and Hana felt the moisture as he sweated in terror. Powerlessness filled her soul and added to the waiting sadness. She expected a negative result and hated herself for her defeatism. The technician peered and clicked and looked and clicked some more. Then she swivelled the screen to face them. “Is this your first scan?” she asked as Logan leaned closer to the confusing mass of dark movement. Hana nodded and swallowed. “Then meet your baby. Everything looks fine, but I’ll ask my supervisor to review the photos just to make sure. Is that okay?”
Hana felt embarrassed for the tears which escaped onto her cheeks. A tiny shape moved around the screen, pulsating and changing angle as the technician moved the probe. Hana heard Logan exhale a long, ragged breath and spared him her scrutiny. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
“Sure is.” The technician smiled. “Do you want to know the sex? I’ve got a great view.”
“No.” Hana shook her head. “I’ll wait.”
“Oh.” Logan’s lips turned down in disappointment. “I wanted to know.”
Hana relented and agreed, but Logan changed his mind in the same moment. The technician laughed. “Yes or no? Which is it?”
Hana smiled at Logan. “You choose.”
He squirmed in his chair. “I dunno now. What do you think?”
“I’ll write it down and hide it in an envelope.” The technician daubed Hana’s stomach with tissue and then handed it to Logan to continue. “You wipe that and I’ll get some paper.” She turned off the monitor and stepped outside, leaving Logan dabbing around Hana’s belly.
“You need to do it harder,” she said, annoyance brewing at his futile wiping. The gel spread, sticking to her hospital gown and dribbling into the small of her back. Her ire subsided at the clench of Logan’s jaw. The man who trained unpredictable mares and ruled over wayward, teenage boys, faltered at the risk of hurting his wife. “Sorry,” she whispered and his brow knitted. “For everything. I wanted to see the kitten.” She swallowed. “And the house.”
Logan offered a curt nod in reply. “The baby looked like it sucked its thumb.” His expression softened. “Is that normal?”
Hana nodded and confiscated the sticky tissue with her good hand. She spread the last of the mess around her stomach and then hauled the gown over her underwear. “Yes. I still catch Izzie doing it sometimes. Haven’t you noticed Jas sucking his?”
“Yeah, but in there?” Logan pointed to her stomach and his pupils dilated in wonder. “It’s amazing.”
“It is.” Hana’s chest tightened. “I’ve come so far and then risked it all.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and blinked at the sticky gel which attached to her lashes. Logan used the bottom of his shirt to clean her face. The creases and rumpled appearance in the cloth belied his compulsive cleanliness. Hana used that fact to berate herself further as he stroked her hair.
“We are where we are,” he whispered. “But let’s not do this again. Impulsive and risk taking aren’t my ideal traits in a wife.”
Hana nodded and jumped as the door clicked open. The technician reappeared and handed a sealed envelope to Logan. He pocketed it and nodded to the man who followed her in. “This is my supervisor,” the punk rocker stated.
“Everything looks fine.” The man smiled. Clipped and professional in a pristine white coat, he contrasted with Logan’s dishevelled appearance. “Baby measures at around fifteen week’s gestation. Nice, strong heartbeat. Your blood pressure is low, Mrs Du Rose and I think there were some problems with that in surgery. That’s not a bad thing for a pregnancy but keep an eye on it.” He smiled and gave a perfunctory nod, aimed at terminating his required presence.
“What problems in surgery?” Logan’s eyes narrowed and he lowered his head to look from beneath his lashes. It created a sinister illusion.
“Not sure. Orthopedic surgeries aren’t my thing.” The man gave a shake of his head and exited the room without looking back. The technician shrugged, a nonchalant, punk rocker kind of movement.
“Let’s get you back to your room,” she said, covering Hana’s legs with a blanket and moving her equipment away from the bed.
The porter arrived to take her away and Hana felt exhaustion crawl through her nerve endings as the bed wheeled along a corridor and into a lift. She closed her eyes and allowed sleep to take her to pain free fields with psychedelic flowers.
Waking hours later in her hospital room, Hana roused without hurry. She watched Logan’s strong profile as he stood at the window, his fingers rustling the envelope in his pocket. His muscle definition stood out beneath his shirt and his trousers fit snug against his neat backside. “I love waking up to you.” Hana winced as her words slurred and he turned and gave her a smile. She sensed relief.
“Good,” he replied. “You’ll have years to get sick of me.”
Hana sighed. “I want to go ho
me.”
“No bloody way!” Logan snorted and she pouted like a toddler. “Maybe tomorrow, but only if your arm shows no sign of infection and everything stays okay with the baby. I won’t take any more risks with you, woman. Obviously you can’t be trusted.” He turned and leaned his backside against the windowsill. Folding his arms across his chest, he channelled determination.
“I didn’t do this on purpose!” Hana grumbled. Logan’s narrowed eyes and the forward tilt of his head shut her up.
“No, but you don’t follow simple instructions. What did you not understand about the sentence beginning with, go home and stay there?”
Hana swallowed and gnawed on her bottom lip. She avoided the accusation in his eyes. Her gaze fell on her suspended arm and she sighed. “Why doesn’t my arm have a plaster cast?” She lifted her head to peer into the splint, seeing bruising and dried blood around the visible skin.
“They need to see what happens after the surgery. They’ll pot it up before they let you loose.” His eyes narrowed and she sensed he held something back.
“What did the guy in the scan mean about problems?” Hana demanded and he shrugged. His irises glittered like diamonds.
“Not sure. It might be nothing. I spoke to the nurse while you slept and she read your notes. The surgeon thinks the anesthetic caused your blood pressure and heart rate to lower.”
Hana sighed. “Mum had low blood pressure. She felt dizzy and laid down with her head lower than her feet. That fixed it.” She sighed. “Her hair flowed over the arm of the sofa and I loved to play with it. I likened it to a red waterfall.” Her face took on a faraway expression as though wishing for her might bring Judith McIntyre to her bedside. Her fingers flexed as though touching the remembered red tresses.
“Hey.” Pete sauntered into the room without knocking. He’d shoved his hands so deep into his pants’ pockets, his underwear showed above the waistband. Impressive black bruises lined his forehead.