by Bowes, K T
“Tea or coffee?” Hana asked the question and Anahera jumped, not seeming to know the answer.
“Wine.” She gave a small, tight-lipped reply and Hana swallowed.
“I have none, love. How about some tea?”
Anahera nodded without caring. “Tea.”
Hana pushed tea bags into a teapot with a chip in the spout and waited for the kettle to boil. Mac coughed on a toast crumb and she patted him on the back. He turned to her with a grin of victory and waved the soggy bread at her. “Clever boy,” she cooed.
Anahera slumped into a kitchen chair and the wooden legs scraped against the floor, jerking Hana back to her present dilemma. “Everyone’s been looking for you, sweetheart. Where did you go?”
“Go?” Anahera’s brown eyes filled with tears and she nodded. “Yes, I need to go.” She stood. “Can we go now?”
“Go where?” Hana put her body between Anahera and Mac. The unhinged look in the other woman’s eyes made her want to snatch up the baby and run.
“Away from him.” Anahera shook her head. “I can’t pretend anymore. It’s too hard; I can’t do this.”
“Away from who?” Hana’s voice sounded hoarse and she wished for her husband’s reassuring presence, willing him to burst through the house like a human tornado and scoop her up. “Who do you need to get away from?”
“Him!” Anahera’s eyes looked wild and she cast around her, the too-big shirt flapping around her thighs. “Help me?” She hugged herself, her frail body shivering in paroxysms of some emotion hidden from view. Assuming it was fear, Hana stepped across the distance and wrapped her arms around Anahera, feeling something akin to volts of electricity course through her.
“You know I’ll help you if I can,” Hana breathed into her hair. “Wiri’s desperate to see you.”
Anahera sank forwards with her hands covering her face. “My son, my son.” She rocked herself to and fro, lank hair touching the surface of the table. “I miss him. I miss him so much.”
“He’ll be here any minute. They nipped to the Macdonald’s drive through to get ice creams; they won’t be long.” Hana knelt in front of her, peering up into the gaunt face and eyes filled with disturbance. “What can I do for you, Anahera?”
“Keep my son safe.” Sanity tracked back into the dilated pupils and urgency replaced madness. “Look after Wiremu; whatever happens, don’t let his father take him. Promise me?” Anahera fixed her fingers on Hana’s shoulders, pressing through her sweatshirt and digging into flesh. Hana winced and nodded.
“I promise, Anahera. I promise.”
Satisfied, Anahera let go and her gaze followed Macky’s frantic movements in the high chair. He sat the floppy slice of toast on his head and then set about searching for it, his arms not quite long enough to reach his crown. Confused, he looked across at Hana and catching her attention, lifted his tiny hands up with the palms facing the ceiling in a sign of, ‘Don’t know where it went.’ Returning Hana’s smile he reached for a stray crumb on the tray of his high chair and the action sent the toast plopping in front of him. He jumped in fear and his face crumpled, morphing into a happy grin as he recognised the object.
“He’s funny,” Anahera breathed, releasing a lungful of tragedy which enabled her haunted expression to fade. “He looks like you.”
“Thanks. I’ll get you a cup of tea?” Hana stood and walked towards the counter, tapping her fingers on Macky’s tray as she went past. His gaze followed her fingers up her wrist to her arm and then her eyes and he squeezed his lashes together and beamed. Hana dipped her face, kissing the bridge of his nose and smiling at the muffled ‘pah, pah’ sounds he made.
Anahera seemed to settle, accepting the mug of tea and sipping it with her brow creased.
“How did you find us?” Hana asked, leaning against the counter and stroking Mac’s red fringe back from his forehead. “You didn’t go all the way to the hotel, did you?”
Anahera shook her head. “No. Linc visited. He said you’d come back to Hamilton and brought Wiri.” She shuddered and her gaze strayed to Hana. “Keep him for me? Please? I know it’s a lot to ask but keep him for me?”
Hana nodded and looked for conversation, finding nothing in the ensuing silence broken only by the sound of Anahera’s exaggerated breathing. Curiosity drove her to ask a question which as she heard it emerge from her lips, knew she shouldn’t have. “I noticed Wiri has Lincoln as his middle name. Is that after Lincoln Haines?”
Anahera’s eyes shuttered and she choked on her mouthful of tea. Hana fought the urge to bang her on the back but guilt blossomed in her chest. “You don’t have to answer that. It’s none of my business.”
“He’s not Linc’s son.” Tears filled the chocolate brown eyes and Anahera stood.
“I know!” Hana raised her hands, mortified at the veiled accusation her words contained. “I know. He can’t be; it’s not possible. Wiri’s six and Lincoln’s been in prison for the last ten years. I didn’t mean that, Anahera. It was just a question.”
“I had to.” Anahera’s fingers writhed beneath the long cuffs of the shirt. “He’s my friend. We grew up together and he’s been kind to me.” Her fingers went to her mouth and she floundered. “I can’t do this; I can’t live with this anymore. I need to tell them. I need to tell the counsellors. They say I can’t get better until I tell them.” She put her hands up either side of her ears and closed her eyes. “It’s there all the time; it won’t go away.”
Mac’s face crumpled as he abandoned his toast and picked up the tangible waves of distress in the room. It fed on the two women like hungry calves at the teat, robbing the air of oxygen and forcing the molecules to spark like static electricity. Mac’s whines of sadness cut through the atmosphere and Hana reached for him, hoisting him out of the chair and offering comfort even as he spread butter over her shoulder. His fingers sought her lips, looking for speech vibrations and answers to the peculiar change in his happy home. “Tell them, then.” Hana’s anxious face searched Anahera’s as the poor woman fought internal agonies below the surface. “If they think it’ll help then do what they say.”
“I can’t!” Anahera’s scream echoed around the kitchen, her eyes wide with horror. “He won’t let me!” She opened her mouth to speak again but the door behind her burst open and Wiri hurtled through, wrapping his arms around his mother’s thighs in a bear hug.
“Ma!” he cried, ice cream sundae and chocolate wiping off his lips and onto her shirt. “Ma! Is you stayin’ wiv us? I started a new school. I got pictures to show you.” His eyes sparkled with excitement and fear that she might deny him. As she squatted in front of him, Hana saw the glistening of tears in the brown eyes and sensed she would break the child’s heart again.
“Anahera,” Hana said, her tone already begging. “Spend time with him. Let him show you his drawings. He’s desperate to see you.”
Logan entered the room with a tired Phoenix over his shoulder. Anahera’s eyes widened in horror and Logan gave a polite nod in her direction. “Hey,” he said and smiled. She stared at him with something akin to fear before her body relaxed with belated recognition. His glance at Hana told her he’d alerted the crash team from mental health services and her heart sank. She hoped they left it long enough for Wiri to enjoy a few stolen moments with his mother.
“I might put our two into bed.” Hana jiggled Mac on her hip and he rubbed his buttery nose on her shirt.
“No! Don’t leave me.” Fear bubbled out through Anahera’s lips and she took nervous side glances at Logan. His lips parted in hurt surprise and he took enough strides to put a good distance between them.
Wiri squeezed Anahera’s leg and kissed the front of her jeans, his rosebud lips puckered in pleasure. “Don’t be scared, Ma,” he whispered. “This is lovely; we’re all together again.” His eyes crinkled at the edges and he stepped back, pulling open the kitchen door. Putting his face through the gap he hollered, “Papa! Ma’s here. Come and see.”
Something in Ana
hera’s eyes snapped and insanity flooded back over the brown irises, darkening them with the strokes of an unseen brush which coloured them black and fathomless. “No!” she hissed, shooting a look at Logan and then the door. She launched at Hana with such suddenness, the other woman almost dropped the baby in surprise, clutching him one handed at the last minute. The slap left her head spinning and Anahera dragged her forward with gargantuan might, using a handful of Hana’s auburn locks as a rope. Hana felt the follicles give way above her ear and cried out, her lower back hitting the counter as she pinged upright before being yanked downwards again. Anahera’s insane screams filled the kitchen as Logan deposited his daughter on the floor and dragged the flailing arms behind his sister-in-law’s back, pinning her against his chest while she thrashed and bucked. Twice she kicked backwards into his shins and he swore and held her still.
Wiri ran in terror, cannoning into Neville’s legs as he entered the room. The child bounced off like a rubber ball and tried to escape again, finding himself battling the fabric of Leslie’s copious skirt as she followed Nev into the kitchen. Wiri kicked against her as she hoisted him skywards, abandoning his bid for freedom as Leslie buried him in her breasts. Mac wailed in misery at the attack on his mother, his cries insatiable as strands of auburn hair floated from Anahera’s struggling fingers down to the floor.
“Are you okay, Hana?” Logan held the struggling woman away from his body, avoiding Anahera’s kicking feet and writhing arms. “Hana!” He snapped at her as short breaths locked up her lungs and sent scant oxygen coasting up to her brain. Logan’s eyes darted to a stunned Nev as he lurked in the doorway, his face pale and his grey eyes translucent. “Nev! Take her.” Turning Anahera towards her husband, Logan let go and gave her a hefty push. The final scream died in Anahera’s throat as she plummeted into Nev’s chest and slid down his legs to the floor.
“Sorry!” she wailed, kneeling in front of him with her hands pressed to her face. Chunks of Hana’s long hair trailed from her fingers. “Sorry! I’m sorry!”
Hana watched the scene as though through another’s eyes, her breath coming in heaves as her lungs struggled and shock fed its chemicals through her system. Mac screamed in her left ear and clung around her neck in terror, unable to hear or understand the awful scenario playing out before his eyes. Hana’s right cheek stung as if the flesh hung loose and her scalp buzzed with the effect of the traumatic hair loss.
“Breathe, Hana, breathe.” Logan’s cheek against her forehead and his soothing arm around her shoulders gave her enough protection to relax. She heard Anahera begging for forgiveness from her husband and Wiri’s tortured sobs, but closed her eyes against the child’s compounded misery. She put her right hand up to her head and Logan pulled it away. His strong arms encircled her and the hysterical baby and Mac pressed his face into the broad chest and hiccoughed with distress.
“Phoenix.” Hana spotted her daughter’s blue shoes from underneath Logan’s arm and gave his bicep a shove, not wanting a circle of love which didn’t include Phoe. Her lungs stopped fighting her and took in oxygen, helping her mind to clear. Her daughter’s gaze fixed on something behind Logan, her face set in a mask of disgust. Grey eyes flashed the colour of pebbles as Phoenix set off marching towards the ruckus, skirting the dining table and scattered chairs. Logan let go of Hana and turned, watching as the tiny girl stood in front of Anahera, unmoved by the tears and snot decorating the woman’s face. A slender arm raised and an index finger pointed to the open kitchen door.
“Stop. It. Go. Away!” The child formed each of the words, giving them independent weight and momentum. Her slender body tipped forward and a plastic toy from a Happy Meal peered out from beneath her fingers, its childishness incongruent with the adult way Phoenix regarded her aunt. Anahera lifted her face to look at the child, appearing stunned at what she saw there. She shrank back, pulling her body into a tight ball, her eyes never leaving Phoenix’s face.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered again. “Help me kuia, help me.”
Phoenix wagged her finger in Anahera’s face. “You don’t hit my ma!” she said with authority.
“Phoe.” Logan’s use of her name reigned her in and she pursed her lips and marched back towards her parents, righteous indignation in her grey eyes and the little blue shoes slapping against the kitchen floor. Hana gave herself a shake, cuddling her son and giving Phoenix a watery smile.
The sound of hammering on the front door sent Leslie scuttling from the room, cradling a distraught Wiri like a baby.
“I’m okay, Phoe,” Hana told her, hearing the wobble in her voice. “Accident.”
“Not. Accident.” Phoenix ground her teeth and her dark eyes flashed like coals, her father’s inherited temper near the surface. She felt rigid next to Hana, placing herself on voluntary sentry duty, her eyes straying to Logan’s face for guidance and back again. As she wiped a tiny fist across her mouth, Hana glimpsed the small girl’s namesake in the determined stance; Kuia Phoenix Du Rose lived on and would one day become a force to be reckoned with.
The crash team weren’t what Hana expected. They didn’t wear white coats and wrap Anahera into a strait jacket. A male and three female nurses turned up in an unmarked ambulance and collected the stricken woman from the kitchen floor without fanfare. Nev seemed paralysed by the whole event and hung on the fringes of the small group, his complexion white and sick. He made no attempt to comfort his small son and eyed his long time wife as one might a rabid dog.
“Did she have any medication on her?” the male nurse asked and Hana shook her head.
“I don’t know, sorry. She wasn’t here for long.” She paused, listening to the hitching of Wiri’s breaths as Leslie tried to comfort him in the lounge next door. Her voice murmured low endearments and his replies sounded hysterical. “Her son’s desperate to see her but when he ran in, she freaked out.”
The man nodded, his brown eyes soft and kind. He pointed towards Hana’s right cheek. “Did she attack you, miss? I can make a report.”
Hana shook her head and switched Mac to the other side to distract the man from his intense focus on the red mark blossoming from temple to jaw. “She didn’t mean it. Anahera begged me to help her and I promised I would. I thought she meant me to keep Wiri for her but when he came home, she went crazy. It’s my fault; I’ve misunderstood the kind of help she wanted from me.” Hana’s eyes roved to the open door and the sounds of a van door closing. “Will she be okay?”
The male nurse took a step towards Hana with his hands raised and Logan’s face clouded as he body blocked him. “I want to look at her eye.” The man sounded surprised as Hana’s family closed ranks around her.
“Fine.” Logan hefted Mac onto his hip and made room, taking Phoenix by the hand to pull her away.
Tilting Hana’s head to one side and peering into her right eye, the nurse tutted. “The eyeball is scratched, possibly from her fingernail.” He shook his head. “Bathe it every couple of hours with salt water. Use cooled boiled water from the jug, not the tap.” He let go of Hana’s chin and released a heavy breath. “Get some ice on that eye and do the same for the scratches on your face. If anything starts to blow up over the next few days get medical assistance. Okay?” He raised his dark eyebrows and Hana nodded, not quite comprehending what he meant by her eye blowing up. Her fingers strayed to the side of her face and the agony of burning in her hair. The skin felt wet and came away coated with clear, sticky liquid tinged with blood. “It’s gonna hurt like a bitch,” he commented and turned to leave. “Are either of you two gentlemen Anahera’s husband?” He spun on the spot, taking in Logan and Neville. Logan’s protective stance invoked instant dismissal and he turned his attention to Nev. “Can we have a word outside please, sir?”
Nev galvanised himself and let go of the counter he clung to like a drowning man. He followed the nurse into the hall without words. As the kitchen emptied, Hana felt a wave of sickness and blew out a slow breath. “Why me?” she hissed at Logan. “Why
is it always me?”
“Shh,” he soothed, kissing the good side of her face and crushing Mac between them. He held Phoenix’s little hand and it prevented him wrapping his arms around her. “What the hell was that about?”
Hana shook her head and her heart quailed. “I think Nev killed Anahera’s sister.”
Chapter 55
Twists and turns
“That can’t be right.” Logan’s eyes narrowed and confusion crossed his handsome features. “Why would Nev kill his sister-in-law? It makes no sense.”
Hana shrugged. “Logan, didn’t you see her face when you walked in? For a second she thought you were Nev and when he appeared, she really flipped out. Before you got here, she said the counsellors wanted her to talk about something that bothered her. She said she couldn’t get better until she told them. When I suggested she do it, she shouted at me that someone wouldn’t let her.”
“What did she say exactly?” Logan rocked his son and bent down to scoop Phoenix into his embrace. The little girl looked lost and Hana held her arms out to her, gratified when the child pitched forward into them.
“I love you, baby,” Hana whispered in her ear and arms like spindles wound around her neck and coiled the hair at her nape in busy fingers. Hana fought for concentration as the sound of the front door closing echoed around the hallway. “She said, ‘He won’t let me.’ Yeah, that’s what she said.” Hana sighed and kissed the side of Phoenix’s downy head. She lowered her voice and mouthed the sentence to Logan, not wanting her daughter disturbed more than she must already be. “I bet she gave him an alibi for the night her sister got you-know-what and that’s why she’s in agony. That’s why Linc went to see her; he suspected she lied for someone. I wonder if it’s at the root of her depression; guilt.”
Logan shook his head. “This isn’t lining up, Hana. Nev wouldn’t let Linc spend ten years in prison for something he did; it’s not who he is.”
“We don’t know who he is though, do we?” Hana pouted and narrowed her eyes. “I thought he was a decent man, not someone who showed no affection for his little boy and stood by with indifference while another family raised him. What’s that about?” She cocked her head. “And that’s another thing; I asked why Wiri’s middle name was the same as Lincoln’s and Anahera got defensive like I’d accused her of fathering another man’s child. When I clarified what I meant, she gave the impression she didn’t have a choice.” As Logan raised an eyebrow, Hana searched her memory for Anahera’s exact words. “She said, ‘I had to.’ Those were her words.” Hana listened for sounds from next door and hearing nothing, patted Phoenix on the back. “Do you think Nev went with them?”