Du Rose Family Ties

by Bowes, K T

  “Look, Wiri. Wiri look at me.” Phoenix pulled funny faces and wiggled her legs through the bottom of the towel Hana swaddled her in.

  “Get in the shower, Wiri. I left it running. You stink.” Hana jerked her head towards the stream of water.

  “Stink!” Phoenix repeated and giggled. “Stink.”

  “That’s man smell.” Wiri whipped the pants off his head and his hair stuck up in a static haze. “I like it.”

  Hana pointed towards the shower curtain. Water pounded the bottom of the iron bath like a drum roll. “I don’t. Get in there and have a proper wash, your feet are black.”

  “No peeping then.” Wiri pouted. “No girls allowed. Only Nonie.”

  “Charming!” Leslie waddled through the door and glared at Wiri. “I’m a girl.”

  He rolled his eyes and hopped over the side of the bath. “Maybe once,” he muttered. “But now you’re just Nonie.”

  Phoenix buried her nose in the towel and yawned. “I got kindy morrow?” she asked and Hana shook her head.

  “No, baby. You get to stay home with me and Mac and Nonie.”

  “Papa’s at work?” Phoenix sounded disappointed, used to him popping home for meals, starting before dawn and finishing at tea time. She screwed her nose up in disgust at the new regime.

  “You’ve got me.” Hana ignored the twinge of sadness as the daddy’s girl regarded her with the signature grey Du Rose eyes.

  “Okay.” She made it sound second best.

  “How’d it go at the hospital?” Leslie slapped Wiri’s bum as he waggled it at her through the shower curtain.

  “You don’t miss anything, do you?” Hana frowned as Leslie smirked. She relented, seeing the kind intention behind the old woman’s nosiness. “Not good. Mac’s deaf. Now they just need to find out how deaf and whether it can be fixed.” Hana sighed.

  “Logan put my mokopuna in his cot before he went out.”

  “Went out?” Hana froze. “Went out where?”

  “Didn’t say.” Leslie leaned over the side of the bath and passed shower gel to the small boy dancing behind the curtain. “Youse meant to be washing tamaiti. Use the soap!”

  “Don’t call me ‘boy’,” Wiri replied in a sing-song voice. “I’m Wiremumu.”

  “Moo moo.” Phoenix screwed up her eyes and rested her face on Hana’s shoulder. “Moo moo.”

  Hana left the steamy bathroom and helped her daughter dress, buttoning her pyjama shirt and settling her into bed. The room felt cool so she switched on the heater in the corner, leaving it to fill the cavernous classroom with its warmth. “Nonie read it?” Phoenix waved the picture book in front of her face and Hana nodded.

  “Okay. Kiss.” She pressed her lips against the perfect cheek and ruffled her daughter’s damp hair. “Love you, baby. I’ll tell Nonie.”

  Wiri pouted when Hana asked Leslie to read and put up a protest. “She doesn’t do the voices!”

  “Her name is Nonie, not she. And aren’t you lucky to have a choice of people to read to you?”

  “Suppose so.” Wiri stood on the bath mat wrapped in a towel and held his arms out to Hana. “I love you.”

  The smile lit her face from the inside. “I love you too, Wiri.”

  “Will I live with you forever?”

  Her heart sank. “I don’t have control over that, sweetheart. But whatever happens, I’ll always be here for you.”

  “Does my real ma not love me?”

  “She does, but she’s ill. I tried to see her today to ask if you could visit but she was busy. I’ll try again though.”

  Wiri smiled, his grey eyes trusting. “Fanks. I do want to see her.”

  “I know.” Hana stroked his hair and stood up. “Hop into bed before Phoe falls asleep. Otherwise nobody will get a story.” She kissed his soft cheek and went to check on her son.

  Mac slept with his arms above his head, his breathing steady and tiny chest rising and falling to a rhythmic beat. “Beautiful boy,” Hana whispered and stroked the warm forehead.

  Downstairs, she hugged the diary written by Phoenix Du Rose and let her fingers run over the clasp which held it closed. The lounge felt warm and soporific with Caleb dozing on the sofa. He turned the television down as she entered. “Hey, Hana. I’m sorry about before. You’ve been kind and I took advantage. I shouldn’t have brought drugs into your home or listened to Asher. As soon as I get this second cast off I’ll be gone. Logan doesn’t know where my dad is; I asked him. Said he put him on a flight to England and never heard from him again.”

  Hana sighed and sat down in a nearby armchair. She cradled the soft leather of the book in her fingers and nodded. “Logan wouldn’t keep a man from knowing his father. A whole family kept him away from his.”

  “He’s gone to sort out Asher.” Caleb chewed his lower lip. “I told him where I think the house is. Will he get hurt?”

  “Logan?” Hana shrugged. “Probably. The hemophilia makes him bruise and bleed, so yes, if there’s physical contact, he’ll get hurt.”

  “I meant Asher.” Caleb nibbled on his fingernails, his body language stiff with anxiety. “I don’t know where that bag went but Asher said he’d send the guys round to find it. He’s already taken the money; he showed me over a hundred dollars. He promised them. They don’t like missing out, not people like them.” He stared at her sideways with a curious sly smile on his lips and Hana shifted in her chair with discomfort.

  “Logan will be back soon.” She opened the book and stroked her finger down the yellowed pages, seeking reassurance and wisdom from a woman she no longer liked. In sleeping with her own brother and producing Reuben Du Rose, the kuikui set in motion a disaster which took three decades before her heirs repeated it and seven more before it detonated.

  “Good book? It looks old.”

  “It is.” Hana ran her finger down the list of cattle prices and earnings, finding nothing to satisfy her soul. “And disappointing.” She snapped it closed and huffed in annoyance as one of the pages bent. Opening the book again, she tugged at the page and found it thicker than expected, realising as she turned it over that she held a black-and-white photograph in her fingers. Three men smiled up at her and she peered closer to see their faces. Age spots dotted the surface and it held the pinkish hue peculiar to 1970s printing ink. One man held a shot gun slung across his shoulder and his hand rested on the shoulders of a light haired boy. The flared jeans they both wore looked incongruous against the tight fitting shirts and wide collars. The tall, imposing man in the centre rested his hand on the head of the dark boy in front of him. Hana’s heart clenched as she recognised Reuben Du Rose and guessed the dark, gangly boy would be Neville. The third man carried a baby wrapped in a blanket, his face beaming in an open smile. Alfred Du Rose looked handsome once, slighter than his brother but no less defined. “Wow!” Hana breathed out the word and Caleb looked across at her. She held up the photo for him to see.

  “That’s neat; three old dudes and their kids.”

  Hana nodded and pointed at the baby. “It’s Logan. This was taken before the family imploded. I don’t know who the other man is though.”

  “It’s on the back.” Caleb jerked his head towards the photo. He leaned across. “Look. It’s in pencil near the top corner. If you move your fingers, you’ll see.”

  Hana turned the photograph over and peered at the slanted writing in the top right corner. “Can you read it?” She handed it over and Caleb took it with exaggerated care. He bent forwards and back to catch the light and read the faded words in a faltering sentence. “Alfie and Logan.” He tipped the fragile paper and squinted. “Ru-something and Karl? No, Kane. That bit’s too faded.” Caleb handed the photo back. “That other one is Haines but I can’t read the kid’s name.”

  “Lincoln.” Hana wrinkled her nose. “Lincoln Haines. Of course it is. The boys stayed friends after the family divided but I don’t know what happened to Lincoln’s father. He must’ve trodden a tightrope trying to please both sides; I’m not su
re I’d bother.”

  “Me neither.” Caleb turned the television back up and the conversation ended. Leslie joined them and Hana retreated into her thoughts. The kid leather of the diary felt soft under her fingers and she stroked it without thinking, pondering mysteries she couldn’t seem to solve.

  “Leslie?” she said and the old woman looked across at her, peeling herself away from the English soap opera which she and Caleb stared at goggle-eyed. “How close was Lincoln to Logan and Reuben’s boys?”

  Leslie shrugged. “Pretty close although Linc’s more Liza’s age I think. He kept very tight with Kane too until he married the doctor-woman. She didn’t like Reuben’s boys but he’s always defended his friendship with Nev. They were real bad boys when they were younger. They roped Logan in and Miriam tried everything to keep them apart. I’m sure Linc was there when Kane split Logan open with a machete.”

  Hana winced and her brow furrowed in remembrance of the awful tale. She steered the conversation away from it, knowing Logan’s version included his older brother Barry’s complicity. It made her sick to think of it. “How many deaths have there been in the township during the last ten years? Can you remember?”

  “Youse lookin’ for a superbug, kōtiro?” Leslie snorted and Hana shook her head.

  “How many?”

  Leslie harrumphed as the credits rolled for her programme and she glared at Hana. “Now look what you made me do.” She held up her hand and counted on her fingers. “Miriam, Reuben, him whose name makes you go loco.” A pudgy hand yanked her glasses down her nose and she raised an eyebrow at Hana. “My hoa tāne, may Atua bless his lazy, gambling soul.”

  Caleb snorted. “Nice. I hope my wife doesn’t talk about me like that.”

  Leslie leaned over the arm of her chair. “Little shits like youse don’t get wives, tamaiti. Decent wahine look for men who can feed and clothe them, not wandering vagrants who bring drugs into other people’s homes.”

  Caleb blanched and Hana didn’t defend him. His apology failed to negate the current threat to her children or to her. She touched her neck and felt the soreness abating, her mind turning to the whereabouts of her husband.

  He still hadn’t returned by the time Leslie shuffled up the stairs to bed and Caleb left soon after on his crutches. Hana heard a peculiar rustling in the hallway and laid the book on the sofa, sticking her head through the doorway and feeling the cool night air in the hall. “What are you doing?”

  Caleb bent over the dustbin bag by the front door, sifting through the rubbish in the dim light of a lamp. Hana remembered the lie about the potatoes Lincoln peeled and bit her lip. “Just checking something,” he said, his voice hushed. “I thought the weed came back.”

  “The drugs? Why would it come back?”

  “I dunno!” Caleb exclaimed and his eyes darted up the darkened stairs. “I wondered if the old lady played a trick on me.”

  “Wait!” Hana jabbed her finger at the black rubbish sack. “You put the drugs in a dustbin bag?”

  “Yeah. They wouldn’t fit in my diamante suitcase.”

  Hana narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get smart with me. You’re in enough trouble.” She chewed her lip in thought but the fragment of memory eluded her as headlights spun onto the drive. “Logan!” She flung the door open before he even descended from the ute, her eyes grazing his body for injury.

  Chapter 48

  Solved, Not Solved

  Logan walked fine and his expression showed more peace than anger. “I filled the ute.” He smiled at Hana and handed the keys over, frowning when she didn’t take them. With a shrug he laid them on the hall table.

  “Did you find the house and see the dealers?” Caleb moved backwards on his crutches, edging nearer to his doorway as though believing he could escape Logan if necessary. Hana gave a slight shake of her head, wanting to tell him how fast her husband moved and how she knew not to bother running anymore. Running, hiding, even locking herself into bathrooms. Pointless, all of it.

  “Yeah, I saw them. The shoes hanging over the telephone lines gave them away. They’re hard core dealers but they won’t be coming here.”

  “Shoes over telephone lines? Is that why people put them there? I never knew why they laced them together and threw them up there.” Hana’s brow furrowed in concentration, missing Logan’s grin and slight shake of his head.

  “Was Asher there? They gave him a room but only if he got the weed.” Caleb sweated with nervousness, a damp stain beginning beneath his arms.

  Logan smirked and the scar beneath his right eye crinkled. “He’s not there anymore,” he replied. He jabbed a crooked index finger at Caleb. Hana saw the scar from an untreated childhood break for just a second as the white flesh glinted in the lamplight. “As soon as that cast comes off; you’re gone, man. I don’t know where Flick went because I told him not to come back. And you? You bring the kind of dumb ass trouble I ain’t got time for, kid. That cast comes off and you’re outa here.”

  Caleb nodded and backed into his room, closing the door behind him. Logan’s eyes roved over Hana, sensing her tension. “It’s sorted,” he promised. “Fancy a drink?”

  They settled in the kitchen with a bottle of merlot and Logan sipped and scratched the bristles on his jaw. “Why am I surrounded by stupid boys?” he demanded, pushing his fingernail into a dent on the wooden table.

  “What happened?” Hana steeled herself for the truth, not wanting to hear it but knowing she’d prefer it to lies. “You’ve been gone for hours. I almost called Bodie.”

  Her husband raised his eyebrows in a look of disdain and Hana swallowed as he chose to ignore her lack of faith. “I went to the address Caleb gave me. It’s an old state house in Horsham Downs. I told them Asher thought hibiscus leaves were dope and they wouldn’t get high smoking it.” He laughed. “I told them they’d smell pretty though.” His expression changed with such subtlety, Hana almost missed it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” His brow knitted and he worked to return his face to a blank slate. “Just something one of them said. He mentioned a name I didn’t wanna hear.”

  “What name?” Hana pressed.

  Logan shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not relevant to this.”

  “Was Asher there?”

  Logan nodded. “Yeah. Kid took a swing at me and made himself look even dumber.” He smirked. “I didn’t expect it to be so easy. But I don’t think he’ll be staying with them much longer; the humiliation will send him packing.”

  “But where? He’ll go back to Nev’s place and we don’t want him there.”

  Logan shook his head. “No he won’t. I warned him. He’s persona non grata on the mountain now. Banished. The guys won’t let him back.”

  Hana heaved out a sigh and Logan reached for her hand. “No, Hana. We’re not taking him on in the hope that he’ll turn out good like Tama. Some people don’t wanna be helped, babe. Learn when to quit.”

  “Don’t throw your pearls before swine.” She repeated the scripture; a remnant from her father’s sermons and nodded. “I always hope there’s something salvageable in everyone.”

  “There is.” Logan sounded definite. “But they have to want it. Flick, Tama, Ryan; they all wanted a second chance and they got one. Asher’s too twisted up to work out what he wants and Caleb wants his dad. End of. I can’t give what I haven’t got. And the more poking around he does up at our place, the more likelihood of someone in a cop uniform getting interested. How will that help a guy who’s started a new life in England?”

  “True. Bodie knew Flick was there but I doubt he’ll protect us from his snooping colleagues now.” Hana winced. “Not that he comes close enough to hear anything anymore.”

  “He will.” Logan squeezed her fingers. “You bit him and he didn’t like it. He and Amy seem to think I’m a wallet full of spare cash and you’re a free babysitting service. It had to end sometime.”

  “Wallet?” Hana’s eyes narrowed. “What do you
mean?”

  Logan realised his mistake too late and chewed his lower lip. “Oh, I lent him a grand to auction off Amy’s house and never got it back. He hasn’t looked me in the eye since he borrowed it. It’s probably part of the problem.”

  “I’ll pay you back.” Hana licked her lips and looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry; I didn’t know.”

  “What a good idea.” Logan’s sarcasm cut through her maternal shame. “Why don’t you pay his mortgage while you’re at it; you reduced your asking price on Culver’s Cottage so he could afford it. Tell you what; he could give up work and send all the bills to you. Hell, they could both give up work and let you worry about the credit card statements. Geez, Hana!” Logan stood and dumped his mug in the dishwasher. Red wine dribbled through the rack before he closed the door. He turned to her and narrowed his eyes, not bothering to hide his irritation. “You’re the problem but you don’t see it. You’ve wiped his ass his whole life and the one time he didn’t get what he wanted, he threw a hissy fit like a toddler. The punishment is that we don’t get to see Jas anymore which hurts us and him, but doesn’t touch Bodie. He’s a dick, Hana and you enable him.”

  Hana inhaled, the words hard to hear. She went into defense mode, her heart pricking from Logan’s criticism. “I do not! Isobel’s not like that. I raised them the same.”

  His face softened and he shook his head. “Izzie’s gorgeous. She’s generous and loving. Marcus and Izzie feed their family on the smell of an oily rag; they’ve got nothing and yet they’re proper happy. She’s a breath of fresh air and nothing like your twit of a son.”

  “He knew about Vic’s affair.” Hana swallowed and stared at the table. “It isolated him before and after his dad died because he couldn’t tell me.”

  “So what?” Logan folded his arms and leaned back against the counter. “He’s not sixteen anymore, Hana. If he thinks his life was hard, he should’ve tried living Tama’s. That’s effed up for sure.”