by Bowes, K T
Hana sighed and collected the white shards, balling them up and dumping them in the dustbin the doctor offered. “It’s Mac,” she confessed, lowering her voice. “I think he’s deaf. I know he’s deaf.”
She tensed awaiting either rebuke or dismissal, surprised when neither came. Instead, the doctor smiled at her. “Okay, sweetheart,” she said. “Let’s talk about why you think that and then I’ll organise tests.”
Hana’s lips parted and she mopped at her eyes with the remains of the tissue. “You believe me?” Her chest heaved and the baby sighed and snuggled closer.
“Definitely!” the doctor answered. “Mums always know best so I’d be stupid not to listen to your instincts. Talk me through it so I can make notes and start the referral.”
Hana nodded. “Okay. But can you stop calling me Mrs Du Rose? It makes me feel a hundred.”
“Nice to meet you, Hana.” The doctor offered her hand again. “I’m Fiona.”
Hana explained her observations and Fiona tapped away on her keyboard. “So, your mother is profoundly deaf?” she asked, correcting a typing error.
“Was,” Hana said, her voice flat. “She died.”
“Aw, I’m sorry,” Fiona said, shooting her a sympathetic glance. “Any other deafness in your family?” At Hana’s silence she turned to find her patient ashen faced and chewing her lip. “Hana?”
“I don’t know. Yes. No. Yes.” Hana agonised with her answer, standing up and putting her son over her shoulder. “Logan’s gonna freak out,” she whimpered.
“Why?” Fiona asked, her fingers ceasing their activity.
Hana squeezed the bridge of her nose between finger and thumb and resumed patting her son’s back. “His grandfather was deaf from birth.”
“Your husband’s?” The doctor looked confused. “Or your son’s?”
“Logan’s,” Hana replied. She paced the room like a maniac. “Logan’s grandfather was deaf. He delivered Mac, just me and him.” She stared at the doctor, her eyes wild. “Then he tried to kill us both.”
“Oh.” The doctor put her hands in her lap. “I can understand why you’re distressed. If it’s genetic, it might be a constant reminder.”
“Yes!” Hana nodded her head in gratitude. “That’s it. But also,” she gulped, “Logan detests weakness. What if he sees this as Mac being weak?” She groaned as the trusting infant settled his arms around her neck and turned his face to the side over her shoulder. His eyelids fluttered.
“How about we cross those bridges as we come to them?” Fiona suggested, standing and putting a steadying hand on Hana’s forearm. “Now, before this little man nods off, let me take a look at him and work out what’s going on.”
Mac’s bottom lip protruded as he stuck it out for the doctor’s benefit, showing his disgust at being interfered with during nap time. He grumbled in protest at the instrument in his ear, flinging his arms and legs around and turning his head to watch it. He followed the doctor with his eyes as she moved around him, but as she sneaked behind and he couldn’t see her, he lost interest. The noises she made behind Hana’s shoulder to attract his attention went unnoticed.
More for her own comfort than his, Hana fed her son under her blouse until he slept, his delicate chest rising and falling in a regular motion. The doctor typed the referral. “Auckland or Hamilton?” she asked. “We’re far enough north to come under Franklin and south enough to be Waikato. You choose.”
“Hamilton,” Hana answered, watching her sleeping son. “What will they do to him?”
“Nothing terrible,” the doctor said, smiling. “The specialist will run tests to determine what kind of deafness he suffers from and decide how to treat it. Deafness isn’t always final nowadays; there’s so much helpful technology out there. It could be glue ear which requires a simple surgical procedure, or he could need implants. There’s heaps of possibilities. Don’t worry.” She smiled at Hana again. “We’ll journey it together, Hana,” she said. “This was the hardest part, saying it out loud.”
Hana nodded. “I guess so.”
“Now, do you want me to write anything down for your husband?” Fiona asked, alarmed by Hana’s frantic expression.
“No!” she cried. “I can’t tell Logan!”
“Yes, you can.” Fiona squeezed her shoulder, offering solidarity. “You must. I’m happy to be there if it helps, but he needs to know.”
Hana blew out a ragged sigh and nodded. She pressed her palm against her sleeping son’s back and dragged the car keys from her cardigan pocket. “I’ll be fine,” she replied.
She turned to leave, nodding in thanks as the doctor held the office door open. “Do you think a shotgun blast very close to Macky could’ve caused his deafness?” Hana whispered, guilt running riot across her devastated features.
The doctor shrugged. “I don’t know. Is that what’s worrying you?”
Hana nodded, fighting the ready tears with a valiant effort. “Yes. I put cotton wool in his ears and made a nest of towels, but could it still cause this?”
The doctor’s eyes widened at the terror in Hana’s face, seeing the hatchet of blame already falling. She laid a gentle hand over Hana’s as it writhed on the sleeping child’s back. “Who fired the gun, Hana?” she asked.
“Me!” Hana’s voice broke and she squirmed under the weight of the heavy sob which escaped her breast. “Me. I fired it.”
“Okay.” Understanding flitted across the doctor’s pretty face. “I get it. Only the experts can answer that but Hana, there’s deafness on both sides of Mac’s family so I’m putting my money on genetics for now and I want you to do that too. We’ll deal with whatever comes up together, okay? We can do this.” The doctor’s fingers felt soft over Hana’s sweating hand and the stricken mother nodded, keen to escape kindness she didn’t deserve.
“Thank you,” Hana breathed, eyeing the gap in the doorway with hungry desperation.
“It’s funny,” Fiona remarked as Hana placed her left foot in the white, clinical corridor. “I never realised Henri Du Rose was deaf.” Her brow knitted in confusion and Hana’s heart quailed at her mistake.
Her green eyes glinted like emeralds in the face of a pursued fox and her voice came through the hitch in her chest. “You know the Du Roses?” she breathed.
Fiona smiled and nodded, opening her mouth to explain. Hana bolted, burying her face in Mac’s cardigan as she shot through the waiting room in an ungainly rush. Her world crumbled around her as she stumbled through the car park, wishing she’d brought Phoenix so she could run far away and start again, reinventing herself as a calm, capable woman who rode life’s problems like a pro surfer.
Chapter 10
The Visitor
Hana arrived home to find David Allen knocking on the front door, his body stiff and impatience marring his pleasant face. She plastered a fake smile onto her lips and parked on the driveway, exiting her vehicle with suitable aplomb and appreciation. “Thanks, David,” she said with enthusiasm, ignoring the immaturity of the tongue he stuck out in response.
Caleb emerged from the ute on crutches, his face screwed up in pain. “How do you feel?” Hana asked, realising the futility of the question as he forced a watery smile in her direction and lied.
“Great,” he said and David rolled his eyes.
“Here’s his medication,” David said, his tone grumpy as he handed over a paper bag filled with packets and boxes. “Kid had no money.”
“All right,” Hana said, feeling the stockman’s animosity oozing out of him like syrup. “I’ve got cash inside the house. Let me get Mac out of the car and I’ll open the door.”
“I’ll fetch the baby,” David said, jerking his head towards Hana’s vehicle. “You deal with yer mate.”
Hana smiled at Caleb and ground her teeth, helping him up the porch steps. She fumbled her keys and was still fiddling around as David appeared with a sleeping Mac still encased in his car seat. “Sorry,” Hana exclaimed, grinding the key in the lock and pushing the door o
pen. She deactivated the burglar alarm and turned to help Caleb inside. David put the car seat on the hall floor but continued to rock it with his foot.
“I’ll just get your cash. How much do I owe you?” Hana asked.
“Twenty-eight bucks and fifty cents,” David chimed, never taking his eyes from her face. Hana nodded and raided Logan’s change jar, handing it to the man in enough coinage to make his trousers fall down from the weight in his pockets.
David’s top lip pulled back in disgust. “I could’ve waited for notes!” he bit.
“Well, now you don’t need to.” Hana smiled to make her point and David ran a large hand through his blonde curls.
“Watch him!” he stressed, cupping his hands and leaning forward to catch the coins pouring from Hana’s fingers. “He’s bad news but you won’t listen.”
Hana’s lips parted in a sigh of annoyance and she shook her head. “You need to forgive me for the other day. I know Logan was cross with you.”
“Cross!” David gritted his teeth and his blue eyes flashed. “He was bloody ropeable!”
“I’ve said I’m sorry!” Hana hissed, glancing at her house guest who balanced on one leg against the wall and pretended not to listen. “He would’ve died.”
David shook his head and huffed out in frustration. “There’s ways of doing things and then there’s the Hana Du Rose way. Next time you almost get yerself killed, make sure you warn me first so I can take the day off.” He turned and let himself out, closing the front door behind him with a click. Hana heard his footsteps tap down the porch steps and crunch across the gravel.
“Sorry,” Caleb whispered, his voice a low hiss. “It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not.” Hana looked crestfallen as she indicated the lounge with her outstretched hand. “Why don’t you go in there for a lie down? I can bring you something to drink. Did you get food at the hospital?”
Caleb shook his head. “No, miss. They put me in the day room once the doctor signed my papers and I waited there for the man you sent.”
Hana nodded. “Was David nice to you?”
The teenager shrugged and looked nervous. “Fine, thanks.”
Hana narrowed her eyes, unconvinced by the boy’s fake smile. She accepted his lie and helped him into the lounge, directing him to an easy chair which reclined flat. “I’ll put the TV on for you and sort out things in the kitchen. What would you like to eat and drink?”
“I don’t know.” Caleb’s blue eyes opened wide against his pale, sickly complexion. “I don’t want you to go to heaps of trouble.” He gulped and looked around at the opulence of the room. “I probably won’t stay too long.”
“Just relax,” Hana said, keeping her voice light. “You don’t have to stay here with us. Logan’s put aside a motel unit for you next door to our museum curator. You can eat at the hotel restaurant until your cast comes off and then we’ll give you a lift to wherever you want to go.”
“Why’re you being so nice?” Caleb muttered. “Rescuing me was more than enough.”
“Because they’re nice people.” Mark’s English accent cut Caleb’s miserable monotone off in its prime. He ran a hand through his thick, grey hair and sat in the seat next to Caleb’s. “Tell me what the doctor said about your leg and my sister can sort out her baby?”
Caleb nodded and Hana knitted her brow, offended by Mark’s easy dismissal. Mac slept soundly and Hana moved his seat into the kitchen where she prepared cheese sandwiches and made a pot of coffee.
“Here you go,” she said, placing the tray on the coffee table and dumping coasters near the men. “I just guessed what you might want.”
Caleb smiled, his blue eyes huge in his pale face. “Thanks, I need to take my medication before I eat.”
Hana frowned. “You didn’t take it on the way up here?”
“The guy didn’t want to stop. He seemed angry.” Caleb stared at his hands and Hana sighed and shook her head at Mark.
“It’s not you,” she reassured the boy as Mark narrowed his eyes in question.
“I always thought David an amiable soul,” he mused.
Hana rolled her eyes and looked like a sulky teenager. “I’m guessing Logan bawled him out for letting me ride away. But to be fair to David, he got little choice.” Hana chewed her lip. “I always tell the children how actions lead to consequences and then don’t take my own advice.”
“I’m glad you ignored them,” Caleb said, his voice a whisper and fear in his blue eyes. “I’d still be there.” A shudder rocked his body and Mark put a cool hand to the teenager’s forehead.
“You look knackered and you’ve got an elevated temperature.” He grabbed the paper bag of pills from the coffee table and ripped it open, examining the boxes and labels inside. He tipped them into his lap and held up a white box. “Take these. I’d increase the dose just to get some into your bloodstream.” He pressed two pills into Caleb’s outstretched palm and added ones from a different box. Mark shook his head as Hana reached for the coffee pot. “He needs to take them with water, love. Have them with food Caleb, or they’ll damage your stomach lining. Those are antibiotics, painkillers and anti-nausea tablets.”
Mark smiled at Hana as she returned with a glass of water, watching while the young man swallowed the concoction. He reached for a plate and piled two triangular sandwiches on it. “Eat these and then you can settle in my room for a couple of hours. I’m going for a long walk in the bush with Hana’s father-in-law so you can rest.” Mark nodded with satisfaction as Caleb bit into the sandwich. He stood and poured coffee for himself, moving over to the wall of glass facing the seascape to drink it. “I love it up here,” he mused.
“You feeling any better?” Hana asked, moving alongside him to give Caleb space to eat. “Made any decisions?”
Mark shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know, Hana. My head wants to stay in New Zealand but my heart doesn’t want me to settle.”
Hana nodded and linked her arm through his, feeling indecision shrouding him like a veil of confusion. “Because of your boys?” she whispered.
“Maybe. Maybe.”
“Have you tried to find them?” Hana asked, remembering the small tow haired boys with the serious faces.
“Yeah.” Mark’s eyes narrowed as he struggled with emotion. “I paid a private detective twenty years ago. Their mother moved them to London. He tracked her down through employment records and I secured the documentation to summon her to a custody hearing, hoping I could at least see the boys and let them know I never stopped thinking about them. He handed her the paperwork and she tore it up in his face and scattered it on the carpet of a posh accountancy firm. I visited a week later and she refused to see me. Security guards forcibly removed me and the police weren’t interested in my desire to see the boys.”
“What happened then?” Hana asked, her eyes widening at Mark’s flexing jaw and the signs of tears in his eyes.
“Nothing!” he spat, his face hard and unyielding. “I did nothing! I let my boys go because I was ashamed of myself.” Mark shook his head and squeezed his eyes tight shut. “I got what I deserved, Hana. I hurt her. She didn’t deserve the awful man I’d become and her punishment of me was justified.”
“You hit her?” Hana whispered her question, aware of Caleb’s presence but seeing a confessional side of Mark McIntyre he’d kept hidden.
He nodded. “I’m a monster, Hana. I made everything her fault. When they treated me like shit on the wards or my professors marked my grades down, I blamed her. There’s no excuse for who I became. Rage consumed me and I lashed out enough times to justify her leaving. I arrived home after a night shift to find her and the boys gone; no note, just gone.” Mark gulped and took a deep breath inwards. “They left everything; toys, bikes, clothes. Everything. We shared a housekeeping bank account and for years I put money into it and watched it disappear. It was the only activity on the account; money in, money out. On Florian’s eighteenth birthday she closed the account and my bank trans
fer returned unclaimed.”
“Couldn’t you see where she spent the money each month?” Hana asked. “You could track her movements.”
Mark shook his head. “No. She drew it out from different cash machines around London. The statements still came to me and I relied on them to show she was still alive.” Mark swallowed. “I stayed in the same house for ten years and kept it exactly the same so they could walk back in and turn on the TV as usual. I looked at Brewster’s bike one day and realised I’d spent a decade kidding myself. They weren’t coming back and even if they did, Brew couldn’t ride the bloody bike anymore. I did a house clearance, put the money into the account and sold the property. I put half of that there too. It all disappeared and I persuaded myself to get on with my life.”
“And now?” Hana said. “Brewster must be thirty-five and Florian thirty-two.”
“Yep.” Mark forced a smile on his face. “They won’t be needing those bikes now, will they?”
He physically disconnected from the conversation and emotionally from Hana, turning away from the window. “Alfred will be waiting for me at the hotel,” he said, the crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes visible as tracks of pain instead of pleasure.
“Okay.” Hana reached for his forearm but Mark strode from the room, taking his agony with him and leaving only a drifting after burn in the air.
“He left his kids.” Caleb’s voice sounded flat as he stared at the sandwich on his plate and Hana walked around the sofa to face him. A single bite scarred the soft surface of the bread. “And he beat his wife.”
“He sounds pretty sorry to me,” Hana said, slumping onto Mark’s vacated seat. “We all make mistakes, Caleb. I know I have.” She picked at a thread on her sweater and watched as the teenager swallowed, his jawline moving as he clenched his teeth.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “Doesn’t give me much hope for finding my dad though, does it? Maybe he doesn’t want to be found like that man’s wife. What do I do then?”