One Heartbeat

by Bowes, K T

  Logan clasped the wizened hand and shook it, sensing the other man’s resignation. “I dared to hope Hana might come,” Robert said, his voice sad, hope fading.

  “Not today.” Logan pulled out a chair and sat, gratified when Tama sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “Did she not want to see me?” the old man looked broken and Logan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs.

  “I didn’t tell her I’d contacted you,” he replied. “I wanted to speak to you myself, before deciding whether to tell her or not.”

  Robert McIntyre nodded slowly, uncertainty in his face. “I don’t have money,” he said, “if that’s what you want.”

  Tama bridled and Logan caught his arm, preventing the explosion of anger he sensed brewing in the teen’s head. “I don’t need money,” he said and shrugged, the expensive cut of his white shirt betraying his affluence. He saw Robert’s eyes flick to the gold and paua of his watch face and shook his head slightly. “Say what you came from England to say,” Logan said, his tone abrupt.

  “What do you want from us?” the old woman asked with feigned politeness, an Irish brogue penetrating every syllable.

  Logan spread his hands unthreateningly and made himself comfortable in the lounge chair. “Nothing. I want to know why you’re here,” he replied. “And that’s all.”

  Hana’s father sat back against the cushions and indicated the woman at his side. “First, I’d like to introduce my wife, Elaine,” he said pleasantly, as though Logan had come for tea, or a business meeting. “We’ve been married for ten years this week.” The couple shared an intimate smile and Tama winced, shooting Logan a look of incomprehension.

  Logan inclined his head regally and waited. With a wavering voice, the elderly man continued, “I’m not sure what you know about me...”

  Logan leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table between them and feeling it was time to lay some cards out. “Sir,” he said politely, “I know nothing about you. I know my wife came to see you, pregnant and needing your help. You threw her and her boyfriend out, making it clear you never wanted to see her again. You must have known where she was, yet made no attempt to contact her. That’s all I know about you.”

  The old man slumped visibly in his seat and covered his eyes with one hand. He suddenly looked ancient and the woman next to him showed concern, putting her hand on his thigh underneath the table. There was a fragility about the pair borne of more than just their age. “I have no excuses,” Robert offered. “My behaviour was unforgiveable. Nothing justifies what I said or how I acted. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anger like it, my beautiful daughter, pregnant. We had such high hopes for her and she offered no justification for her behaviour. Believe me, I’ve gone over that scene a million times in my head in the intervening years and rewritten it as often. It was the worst day of my life, only equalled by the death of my wife some months later.” He took a white handkerchief from his smart jacket pocket and mopped at his brow, the strain taking a physical toll.

  “She stayed at university,” Logan said quietly. “She married and graduated with her degree. You could have found her; it wasn’t a big town.”

  Robert nodded, conceding regret in that movement, knowing he missed the birth of her baby and the graduation he saw at risk that day in his kitchen. “She did it,” he breathed. “Despite everything.”

  Logan felt reluctant to continue as though twisting a knife in the old man’s chest.

  “The child,” Robert said, and Logan saw the naked hunger in his eyes again, “what happened to the child?”

  “He sat opposite you in McDonald’s yesterday,” Logan replied. “Hana came out of the toilet with his wee son.”

  Robert rubbed his handkerchief across his head and eyes. “What of the Indian boy? Did he leave her?” His breath came in short huffs.

  Logan shook his head, defending Vik despite his personal desire to erase the man’s memory from Hana’s life completely. He hated that Vik had enjoyed any of Hana without him. Logan pushed away the memory of Vik’s neutral face on the train, sitting passively while his fragile girlfriend broke her tender heart on the seat next to him. Logan gritted his teeth and Tama looked at him in alarm, knowing the danger signs. “They married and had another child, a daughter who lives in the South Island. They emigrated here when their children were small but Vik died in a car accident nine years ago. Hana was alone until last year.”

  “That’s terrible,” Elaine breathed. “The poor wee girl.” Her green eyes darted to Robert, filled with anguish.

  “What are you both,” Robert extended his arm to include Tama, “to my daughter?”

  “I’m her husband,” Logan replied, “and Tama’s my nephew. But he belongs to us. He’s our whānau.”

  Tama cast his eyes down, feeling dreadful at hearing Logan’s vote of confidence, knowing he didn’t deserve it. He dragged his feet deliberately that morning, feeling treacherous at meeting Hana’s father without her knowledge. Sleep evaded him all night in case she hated him for the betrayal and he couldn’t cope with her rejection.

  “What is this...whānau?” Robert asked, mangling the Māori word.

  “It means family in Māori,” Logan said. “In my experience, family can take many forms.”

  The old man nodded in agreement, turning to Tama and asking, “The baby you held at the restaurant, is she yours?”

  Logan felt a flush of approval. Despite his circumstances, the man missed little during the confusion in the restaurant.

  “No,” Tama answered with a nervous glance at Logan. “She’s Hana’s; your granddaughter.”

  The questions continued and Logan tried not to lead the man straight to Hana, without giving him the opportunity to speak to her first. “When did you meet my daughter?” Robert asked, looking suddenly tired.

  Logan took a breath, feeling the weight of the explanation even before his lips parted. “I met her that day,” he said, wanting the man – his father-in-law - to understand. “The day she last saw you. We were on a tube train in London and I was visiting. We sat opposite each other and she cried from Epping Forest to her stop. I was young, but knew then I loved her. I searched for her without success for years but when I moved to Hamilton last year I found her, working at the school I now teach in. We married a few months later and have our daughter, Phoenix.”

  Tama looked sideways at his uncle, trying to keep the surprise from his face. Excluded from Logan’s wedding he knew none of their love story and it was news to him. Is it possible then, he wondered, to know instantly if someone’s the one for you? Nobody had ever told him that. It put a whole new perspective on relationships and he worried at a thumb nail, his mind elsewhere.

  The old man processed the information slowly. He looked frail and weak, although his voice still held a resonance of steel. Logan again recognised the leader in him. He sent Tama to the bar for coffees and gave him cash to pay for it. Then he tried to turn the conversation to lighter matters. “Are you still a vicar?” he asked politely.

  The man’s face sagged further and Logan regretted his question. “No,” he replied. “After Hana and Judith I lost my faith somewhat. I retrained as a primary school teacher and taught for the final twenty years of my working life. My retirement came five years ago, having worked much longer than I should have but the school struggled to replace me as the headmaster of Hana’s old primary school.”

  “What of your son?” Logan asked. “Hana speaks of him with animosity.”

  “Oh!” Both Robert and Elaine seemed shocked, sitting up straighter and looking at each other in confusion. “But Mark is why we’re here,” Robert said. “He telephoned us a few months ago to say he’d seen Hana and she was here in Hamilton. There was an accident or incident – he wasn’t clear. But somehow she cut her wrists.”

  Logan sat back in surprise, shaking his head in disbelief. “Her wrist!” His voice was more forceful than he intended and Tama shot him a nervous look from his position at the bar. “One wrist, n
ot both. There was an accident and she got glass in an artery. Be careful what you infer.” His tone sounded threatening. “Who’s saying this crap?” he demanded. “How would her brother know anything?”

  “He’s a doctor,” Robert said, his face beaming with pride. “A surgeon at the local hospital here. It’s Mark who saved Hana’s life.”

  The coffees arrived shortly after Tama. He found his uncle sitting in the chair looking pensive. Logan caught his eye and Tama didn’t like what he saw there, a brooding anger dangerously near the surface. The conversation had progressed to the present day, making a jump of over two decades and Tama struggled to catch up.

  “Of course she’s stable!” Logan hissed as Tama settled into his seat. “She was kidnapped and cut her wrist defending herself!” Logan’s eyes flashed a livid grey and Tama cringed at the warning signs. “If your son was there, he knows her address, phone number, everything. Why did you bother to see me? Besides which, it was four months ago, why didn’t you contact her before now?”

  “Let’s go,” Tama said, watching the vein under Logan’s jaw tick as blood fired through. He looked at Robert. “It’s all crap; we’re done here.”

  Robert’s eyes filled with tears and devastation bowed his spine in half. His wife rubbed her hand fondly along his thigh to comfort him as he spoke in wavering speech. “I was having radiotherapy for lung cancer. My oncologist made me finish my treatment before allowing me to fly. It’s been a dreadful few months. Mark isn’t allowed to check patient records without good cause; the health authority audits who looks at patient details. Hana wasn’t his patient; he was called in as an emergency surgeon. He tried to speak to her and asked the ward staff to hold onto her. He was called into another emergency operation and by the time he finished, it was the early hours of the morning. He went home to sleep, reassured the nursing staff would call him but when he arrived back to see Hana, he found her already gone. He rang us in great distress. Eventually he managed to find an address north of the city, but every time he called, the gates were locked and nobody answered. It seems little has gone in our favour lately. Just punishment, perhaps.”

  Logan felt sorry for his irritation and tried to calm himself, controlling his speech with an effort of will. “She should have been in hospital longer; Hana discharged herself and we went away for her to recover. The whole thing was traumatic.” Logan bit his lip. “We only spend odd weekends at the house because of my job, so he wouldn’t find anyone there.”

  “And she’d freak out if she found her brother at the front door anyway!” Tama interjected. “I don’t think she ever wants to see him again.”

  Robert’s complexion paled. “I don’t understand; I need to see Hana.”

  Logan knitted his brow and peered at Robert. “I’m not sure about that yet. She doesn’t have great memories of any of you.”

  “But that was one day!” Elaine protested. “They were a happy family until then.”

  “Yeah, really sounds like it,” Tama scoffed.

  Logan ran a hand through his hair and checked his watch. “We need to go. Just explain why your son ended up as Hana’s surgeon.”

  “He’s here on a temporary contract,” Robert replied. “A colleague called him in one night for an emergency surgery and on his way out, he saw the ambulance bringing in a woman with an arterial bleed. He said he recognised Hana and pushed himself into the situation, treating her in the resuscitation area. Fortunately, he has extensive experience with this type of surgery and offered to operate. He said...” Robert gave his wife a cautious look. “He said she’s the image of her mother.”

  Logan nodded, imagining Mark’s shock at finding his sister on his operating table. The effort of remaining detached and not letting personal difficulties affect his skill level must have been exhausting. Ringing his sick father meant he deliberately broke hospital regulations and risked his job and Logan recognised desperation in the action.

  “New Zealand is strangely like that,” Tama commented, trying to inject a lighter note. “It’s the two degrees of separation. Everyone knows everyone else and you can’t go anywhere without bumping into...someone...” He caught Logan’s eye and resumed his watchful silence.

  “You know it was your son who informed Hana of her mother’s death?” Logan said, hearing his own unkindness but wanting to take the shine off the sainted son a little. “He sent her a note via the university and told her not to come to the funeral; she wasn’t wanted.”

  The old man put his hand up to his mouth, looking grey and ill. Logan felt cruel. “I had no idea,” Robert whispered, tears filling his eyes and causing them to shimmer in the light.

  Logan looked away, knowing he caused damage for the sake of it and regretting it. Robert looked crushed. At that moment, perhaps through guilt and for all the wrong reasons, Logan wanted Hana to see her father and put right the errors of the past. “I’ll talk to Hana,” he promised, craving the paternal love he saw in Robert’s eyes.

  The group shook hands and the Du Roses left. Both men were silent as Logan started the car but Tama couldn’t help himself. “Uncle Logan,” he began. “Are you sure Hana...?”

  “Don’t!” Logan raised a hand in warning and Tama shook his head, dreading the argument later when Hana found out what he’d done. His uncle huffed and puffed, watching the digital display on the dashboard clock tick through its accusation of their lateness. Traffic built as an accident blocked the road and police diverted it in the opposite direction to the one they needed to go.

  Hana sat on the church steps feeling fortunate it wasn’t raining. The porch sheltered her from the cool wind as she worried about Logan. “He’s never late,” she said to Phoenix as the child nestled in her arms. Only the pastor’s car remained in the car park and Phoenix started wittering, forcing Hana to lean against the wide front door and shove her under her blouse. “It’s not the holy look I was going for,” she grumbled. “Getting my boobs out on the church steps isn’t a great way to make nice friends.”

  Hana watched everyone leave earlier, pretending she had somewhere to go and avoiding conversation with anyone who might ask why she wasn’t her usual buoyant self. A click behind her warned Hana one of the wooden doors was opening and she tried to shift to one side to avoid falling backwards. Pastor Allen emerged, looking surprised at one of his congregation members sitting on the steps alone in the cold. He shut the door behind him, making sure it was locked and plonked himself down next to Hana. He smiled sideways at her. “I think it’s going to rain,” he said.

  “Fantastic,” Hana replied with sarcasm, putting Phoenix over her shoulder and patting her back. The baby burped and rubbed her eyes on the tiny fists next to her face.

  “Want to tell me what’s wrong?” Hana’s old friend asked her, running his hand across his mouth and looking tired.

  “Not really,” she replied, “you look like you’ve got your own problems.”

  “Nothing a good night’s sleep can’t cure,” Allen said and smiled at her. “So come on, give.”

  Hana sighed and wondered how to start. “I believed my father died. I read his obituary in a Baptist newspaper someone brought from England years ago. It detailed his work with the poorer churches in Birmingham and how much he’d be missed. The deceased had the same name, the same age and I assumed it was Dad. Then I saw him yesterday. We went for McDonald’s after the soccer game and there he was, sitting in the restaurant looking straight at me.”

  Pastor Allen let out a slow whistle. “Wow! But that’s awesome, isn’t it?”

  Hana shrugged. “It was a terrible shock. So, I did what I always do when there’s a problem; I ran away.”

  Allen pulled a face. “That’s understandable. But what will you do now?”

  “What can I do?” cried Hana. “I won’t be able to find him again. He was probably on holiday, passing through. And even if I did bump into him again by some random coincidence, what would I say? ‘Oh hi, Dada, hope life’s gone well for you since you called me a slut, t
hrew me out of the house because I was eighteen and pregnant and threatened your holier than thou image’- that would be a conversation stopper!”

  Allen looked at her sideways. “I never knew that about you,” he said. “Not that it matters but we’ve been friends for years. Why don’t you talk about it?”

  “It’s private,” Hana said, her face sulky. “Do you tell everyone about your worst sins?”

  “Every Sunday,” Allen said with a wistful smile. “It helps me stay real in the face of other people who make mistakes.”

  “Aren’t you the perfect Christian,” Hana bit, her tone sarcastic.

  Allen snorted, not offended. “What do you want from him now, Hana?” the wise cleric asked. “What’s the best outcome?”

  “For him to say sorry,” Hana snapped, surprised by the vehemence she heard in her own words. “But I know he won’t. He was never wrong and I can’t imagine he’s changed. It was always someone else’s fault, never his. I was terrified of seeing him that day and confessing my mistake. It was a six hour journey on the train and then we travelled another five after that. Vik was petrified and he still came with me. They threw him out and split his lip and eyebrow. My perfect brother was there and it was awful.” Hana felt the tear roll down her cheek, snatching it angrily away with her free hand and catching her skin, leaving a long, raised scratch on her cheek.

  “I find,” the pastor said carefully, “when looking for an apology, it often doesn’t come. How will you cope if that’s the case?”

  “It’s academic because he’s gone. But I guess I’d be angry and hurt. At least now, I’m just hurt,” Hana replied, her lips curving into a pout.