by Bowes, K T
Hana tried to say her daughter’s name, but her lips refused to obey and after a few tries, she managed instead, “Baby?”
Logan smiled and his face disappeared. When he returned, the little screwed up, olive visage peering from his arms was not happy. Phoenix looked like she’d spent her entire life bawling. Her eyes were huge and puffy and her body twitched and shook with the aftermath of violent crying. As she hitched again and let out a wail, Hana felt a pain in her chest as her body responded, coupled with the the soaking of the hospital gown as her breasts let down milk. “Should I take her away again?” Logan asked as Hana groaned pitifully.
Hana shook her head. “No. Help me?” she begged. “I need to feed her.”
A nurse appeared to crank the angle of the bed higher and provide pillows. They put the rails up on Hana’s right side to stop the baby falling out and Hana latched her on without difficulty. Phoenix fed as though her life depended on it, stopping only briefly for a nappy change and then demolishing the other breast. Hana finally remembered what it felt like to be comfortable.
“Does it hurt?” Tama asked when he appeared, pointing at her left arm. Hana looked down. Her forearm lay in an open metal tray swathed in bandages and gauze. Blood seeped through to the outside, despite surgery to close the vein and remove the glass.
“My boobs hurt more,” she complained and Tama sniggered. The baby stopped feeding and her head lolled back, but whenever her father tried to take her away so Hana could sit up, she gave a pitiful cry and tried to grab hold of her mother again. Her little fingers wound tightly into Hana’s hospital gown and couldn’t seem to be extricated. It took several goes and eventually it was Tama who managed to peel her off, putting up with the tears and anxiety over his shoulder until she fell asleep exhausted in the corridor.
“I thought babies didn’t form attachments to parents this quickly,” the teenager commented as he wiped sick off his shirt. “I thought it was ten months. Nev’s little boy was definitely older.”
“I’m just a food source,” Hana griped, chastened by Logan’s furrowed brow.
He shook his head. “No you’re not, babe; although she hates the bottle. I missed you as much as her. I can scream if it’ll make you feel better.”
“I want to go home.” Hana stated bluntly, laying her head back against the pillows.
“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen!” Logan snorted. “Your surgery took hours. The surgeon went off shift but he said you’re not allowed to leave before he gets back. He looked knackered. Nice guy.”
“I want to go home,” Hana repeated. She wanted to sleep but couldn’t. Her left arm was out of action and a blood transfusion bag emptied into her right hand. Phoenix fed like it was an Olympic sport, forcing Logan and Tama to stay and help.
“How are you feeling?” a nurse asked as she brandished a thermometer. “The transfusion’s done so I’ll take this now.” Hana looked away as the woman disconnected the second empty bag. The nurse glanced at Logan. “Visiting hours end soon and your wife will be going onto the ward. You can bring the baby back tomorrow.”
Logan grunted, the air of a man who was dead on his feet. “I can’t take the baby away now. You’ve seen what she’s like.”
A high pitched wail issued from the other end of the corridor as Tama made another pointless tour of the hospital. The nurse shrugged and left. Hana leaned towards her husband. “Please Logan,” she begged, “take me home?”
The doctor strongly advised against it, forcing Hana to sign a release form stating she had discharged herself against medical advice. “This is foolish, Mrs Du Rose,” he stated crossly. “Your surgeon asked us to keep you here. He needs to check his work.” But his words were wasted on the determined woman and Hana signed the form with a scrawled signature that didn’t look like hers.
The pints of blood Hana lost on Laval’s driveway were replaced, courtesy of the kind people who donated. “I feel so guilty,” Hana sniffed. “British people aren’t allowed to donate blood because of Mad Cow Disease. I don’t deserve it.”
Logan observed his wife with affection and stroked her hair as he shoved her into a clean tee shirt. “It’s fine,” he soothed, trying not to laugh at his wife’s reasoning. “Just pretend it’s mine.”
“Is it?” Hana asked hopefully, wiping her hand across her eyes and wincing as the cannula caught.
“Na,” Logan shook his head, regretting the suggestion instantly. “Haemophiliacs can’t donate.”
“Oh,” Hana started to cry again.
“Stop being an egg!” Logan rubbed her shoulder. “Let’s pretend it’s Michael’s; he donates. Bastard’s not done much else for me recently, so a bit of blood is the least he can do, hey?”
Hana nodded and blew her nose disgustingly into an inadequate tissue.
Phoenix’s cry developed a shrieking edge of panic that hadn’t been there before and it was another factor making Hana feel guilty and powerless. Instead of hating Laval, she punished herself. The metal tray was braced onto her hand to keep her wrist from bending while the stitches and careful surgical procedures inside her wrist healed. With the cannula gone, Hana was able to do more for herself and pulled clean track pants on. “Where’s my other clothes?” she asked. “I liked that bra.”
“The police took them,” Logan replied, playing down their blood soaked appearance. “Tama fetched these from the staff unit.”
Hana held up a pair of ratty old knickers in her right hand and looked at Tama in dismay, irritated when he smirked back at her. “You did that on purpose!” she snapped and he sniggered. The thought of him trawling through her undies drawer wasn’t funny. She wriggled around on the bed. “And these ones are too small.”
“That’s not my fault,” he snorted. “You should’ve thrown them away. How was I supposed to know?”
Logan brought the Honda as close to the entrance as he dared without getting clamped and loaded Hana and the baby inside. He and Tama sat in the front, leaving Hana in the back with her daughter. Phoenix kept hold of Hana’s right index finger firmly in her little fist, occasionally putting it up to her mouth in a panic and then relaxing again. Logan paused at the exit onto Pembroke Street. “Where do you want to go, Hana? Where’s home?”
Hana thought for a moment. She rejected the staff unit. Despite its facelift, it wasn’t home. Culver’s Cottage had been home, but she wanted to get right away from the town and all memory of Laval. A view of the kauri tree at the top of the mountain filtered into Hana’s tired head, the secret carvings and her baby’s name engraved under her daddy’s. “Hotel,” she slurred. “I wanna go to the hotel.”
Hana heard a movement and caught the men looking at each other. She could only see the side of Tama’s hair over the top of the headrest in front of her, but had a good view of her husband’s face. Logan grinned at Tama with a look of deep-seated satisfaction and contentment. “Home then,” he said softly. Hana put her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
She woke up as the Honda slid through the automatic gates and climbed the steep driveway up to Culver’s Cottage. Logan saw her confused face in the rear view mirror and reassured her. “We need to grab clothes and stuff for the baby.”
Hana laid her head back against the seat. “Can you get mine?” she asked, slurring her words. “Don’t let Tama in my undies drawer again.”
She heard the men snort with laughter and drifted off to sleep. When she next woke, feeling surprisingly refreshed despite the crick in her neck and the pain in her left wrist, it was dark and Tama drove. The Honda was in the process of descending the long driveway to the hotel. Hana discerned relief washing over her and sighed. Tama didn’t bother putting the car into the car park, instead sweeping around the curve to the wide front steps of the hotel. Both men looked shattered. As soon as the wheels ceased droning on the ground, Phoenix woke like a jack-in-the-box and commenced the horrid wail next to Hana. She was inconsolable.
Hana didn’t want to go to bed. “No, please can you car
ry my fighting banshee down to the kitchen and I’ll feed her there.”
Leslie turned in surprise, looking at the state of the adult trio and the one small siren and rushed towards them in confusion. “I didn’t know youse were comin’. Oh, Miss! What’s been happening?”
Three other women worked in the room, chopping vegetables and finishing off huge platters of food as Hana struggled to contain her exhaustion and overwhelming emotions of sadness, relief and fear. She sank into a chair at the kitchen table and Tama laid the baby across her thighs. Taking another look at the men, Leslie waved them off. “Youse look wrecked. Get yourselves off for a lie down!”
Once Phoenix began feeding, the noise ceased. Leslie pulled a chair next to Hana and put her broad arm around her, pulling her in tightly and allowing her to relax under her care. “Thank you.” Hana whispered and Leslie kissed the side of her head, rising to make her a drink. She dug out Miriam’s old teapot, knowing the Englishwoman liked tea and used the zip heater on the wall to fill it to the brim. Hana was grateful for the drink when it came, enjoying the sense of normality.
“How are things with you?” Hana asked and the older woman’s eyes filled with tears.
“Youse don’t wanna be worrying ‘bout me,” she answered. “Look at the state of you! Youse got your own problems!”
A local woman near the sink heard Leslie’s answer and harrumphed loudly. Hana looked at the woman’s back, catching her eye when she turned around to reach for more carrots. Seeing Leslie sitting passively next to her employer’s wife behaving like nothing was wrong, infuriated her. The woman shook her head. “I’m speaking up,” she said, ignoring Leslie’s warning glare. “Someone should’ve done that months ago too. She’s lying, miss,” she said. “Her husband owed money and they come every week and take it off her. She’s never gonna finish paying them and when she’s nothing left they take her stuff. They took her armchair last week because she needed to pay the electric bill, so she’s nothing to sit on. It’s downright criminal!”
She was a buxom woman and waved her arm at Leslie. “Don’t you be glaring at me, woman! I’m only saying it because I care so don’t even think about firing me either” The woman turned back to her chopping, ramming the knife through the potatoes as though killing the lowlifes who collected a bogus debt from a widow. Lowlife’s with no shred of humanity, who came every single week.
Hana looked sideways at Leslie as she lifted the baby onto her shoulder to wind her, seeing a single, painful tear roll down the old woman’s cheek. The righteous anger was infectious and she shook her head. “Well, you won’t be paying them again. I’m sick of men who think they can ruin other people’s lives for their own sport. You’re not paying anymore.”
The women at the chopping board looked at one another and smiled, hearing Hana’s determined answer. They weren’t old enough to remember the reign of Reuben Du Rose and his mother, but the older staff told stories. Reuben scared the men of the township rigid with his no-nonsense brand of leadership as a young man. Everyone waited for a revival in Logan, recognising shades of his father’s mana. The local kaumatua referred to Hana as ‘the matriarch’, a title which didn’t fit the mild mannered redhead. Until now. Power and a visible mana around Hana made the air tingle and great hope surged in the working women. The new Du Rose matriarch would be a righter of wrongs, a champion of their cause and they winked at one another in excitement.
Leslie helped Hana carry the baby upstairs to Logan’s childhood room, discovering Hana’s husband asleep on their bed still with his boots on. His face looked grey and sallow and Hana regretted what she’d put him through. The women tipped out the bottom drawer of the dresser and padded the sides and bottom. Hana used one of her tee shirts to wrap the infant tightly and place her on her side, hoping the presence of her smell would be comforting.
“Want me to change your leaking bandage?” Leslie offered in a whisper.
Hana shook her head. “Thanks but it’s far too complicated with the splint on and I’m too tired. Can we look later?” Hana touched Leslie gently on the arm and with a smile, she left.
Hana tried to remove Logan’s cowboy boots one-handed without waking him. It was awkward to undo the zips and tug off the dusty boots, but somehow she managed and put them on the floor by the door. When she turned back to the bed, Logan watched her with affection in his grey eyes.
“Sorry,” Hana said, rolling her eyes in frustration. “I tried not to wake you.”
He smiled lazily at her and shook his head. “I was enjoying your struggle with my boots,” he said, shifting position so he could lay on his side and appraise her.
Hana frowned. “That’s mean! Clap, clap for the poor-one-armed-woman!”
Logan laughed and held his arms out for Hana to crawl onto the bed and lie next to him. She nestled into his chest, keeping her arm braced across his shoulder. “Standing in Laval’s house, I craved this,” she whispered. “After holding Phoenix, it was the only thing I wanted more than life itself.”
She heard her husband swallow and kissed his chest through the fabric of his tee shirt. “You lost so much blood,” he whispered. “I knew I wouldn’t cope if...”
“No!” Hana’s voice sounded firm. “I thought I died but I’m glad I didn’t. I want to be here with you. I must have been delirious,” she sighed. “I heard my brother’s voice.” Hana pushed her hand inside Logan’s tee shirt. “I missed you,” she whispered. “I need you to love me and the baby’s asleep.” She reached up, placing her lips over his.
Logan groaned and put his index finger over her questing lips. “You might not want to do that.”
“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, confused and momentarily rejected. “Please, Logan?”
“Awkward, much?” Tama’s head appeared over her husband’s shoulder. “Unless you fancy a threesome?”
Logan jabbed backwards with his elbow and Hana’s wrist slipped off his shoulder. Tama grunted and bent double and Hana cried out in pain. Logan sat up to sort his wife out, accidentally on purpose shoving Tama headfirst off the bed and onto the floorboards. “Was he in bed with you?” Hana asked through gritted teeth as she waited for the pain to subside.
“No he wasn’t!” replied Logan indignantly. “He was on the rug.” He peered over the side of the bed at his nephew, “And now he’s back there.”
Tama swore and staggered from the room. One of the young hotel girls worked next door making up Liza’s room for him and it still wasn’t ready. Hana heard the sound of giggling as Tama helped her make his bed. She put her fingers in her ears. “I think we need to put something in his tea,” she said. “What’s the opposite of Viagra?”
Logan snorted and leaned over Hana, kissing her gently on the lips. “I don’t know,” he said, “but he’s gone now. How about you finish what you were saying before?”
“I can’t remember,” Hana lied with a smirk. “I had my face smushed against a picture of your hairy knees and it’s given me short term memory loss.” She shuddered at the memory of Laval’s mania and closed her eyes.
Logan stroked her cheek. “It was something about you needing me to love you,” he said.
Hana smiled, her eyes bright with tears. “Yeah,” she said. “I remember that.”
Chapter 26
After a full day and night at the hotel, Phoenix resumed life as her sunny, smiling self. Her traumatic separation from the only brand of food she was prepared to tolerate faded, but anything resembling a baby bottle reproduced the wailing screech.
“A couple of months old and already putting your foot down,” Tama said, as he lifted Phoenix in the air above his head and squinted up at her. She grinned and made a happy noise and Hana hoped she wasn’t about to puke. Leslie popped a measuring jug on the table on her way past and Phoenix spotted it. Her bottom lip stuck out and she whimpered at the sight of the plastic.
Hana snorted. “Nothing wrong with your eyes, baby.”
Logan put his head around the kitchen door and called to Ta
ma. He blew a kiss to his wife and evaded her questions. Tama stood and handed the baby to Hana. “Don’t worry. We need to sort something out. We won’t be long and we’re taking your car.” He grinned with mischief and sloped from the room.
Hana sighed and shook her head, hearing the Honda engine start up outside the kitchen window.
“Where are they going?” Leslie asked, watching with curiosity as three other vehicles followed it off the property. The farm ute laboured up the driveway, puffing out smoke behind Jack’s Jeep. “All the young men have gone,” she mused. “Causing trouble if youse ask me.” She dried her hands and watched as Hana sat Phoenix’s bottom on the table in front of her, laughing as the little girl flapped her arms.
“Your naughty cuzzy wound you up, didn’t he?” Hana said, rewarded by a gummy grin.
“Youse watch that wrist,” Leslie said, pointing at Hana’s bandage. “Dunt look good at all, miss.”
Hana dismissed her concern and sought Alfred in the apartment over the hotel. He let her in with a tired smile and took Phoenix from her. “Thanks,” Hana said. “I forgot how horrid it is, having one arm.” She wandered into the sitting area, pausing at the sight of his belongings spread around several cardboard boxes. “You’re leaving?” she asked, a catch in her voice. “Where are you going?”
Alfred sat with her at the kitchen table overlooking the wide sweep of bush from the long window, trying to explain himself. “Don’t take it so personally, Hana. It’s not about you. I wish I could stay, but I can’t. There’s too much history bound up in this house and I need time away. See, I was always the lesser son to my mother,” he said, his voice loaded with regret. “Reuben wasn’t the oldest, but he was the natural heir. I loved the land but knew nothing about business. Reuben showed a good head with money. He was creative and clever, like Logan. He could make money stick to his fingers and this place prospered under him and my mother. When he...when Miriam...when Logan was born and their secret came out, my mother was furious. She thought he’d destroyed the family name. She sub-divided the land and gave him enough to survive on, but she gave me charge of the big house and farm. At first I was pleased; Reuben was the perfect son and while he was in favour, I couldn’t get her attention. Despite all my big plans, I couldn’t run it, Hana. I couldn’t do the figures or balance the books. Oh, I knew Miriam didn’t love me but somehow we made it work. I raised Logan as mine to hurt my brother, but then I loved him so much it became easy. My mother died young. Logan was only five. He won’t remember, but he was with her. They went for a trek up to the paddock at the top of the property like they always did at tea time and she suffered a heart attack. The poor boy sat with her until it was past dark and that’s how we found him, sitting beside her body next to the old kauri tree.” Alfred’s words caught in his throat with a sob.