One Heartbeat

by Bowes, K T

  An ambulance woman made straight for Hana as she crested the brow of the hill, offering her a blanket and leading her by the arm to the back of her vehicle. “Come in here and let me check you over,” she said, her tone light.

  Reaching it, Hana saw the biology teacher sitting inside having a cut to his head dealt with by another paramedic. “No!” she cried. “You can’t make me.” She refused to go any nearer, reaching out a dirty hand for the hood of her pram and clinging to the fabric. “I want to go home,” she said pitifully to Logan and he nodded, shaking his head at the ambulance woman.

  “We’ll be fine,” he said. “Thanks.” He led his wife around the back of the ambulance but the paramedic protested.

  “She’s got deep gashes on her arms and neck,” she said, pointing at Hana’s torn shirt. Embarrassed, Hana raised Logan’s jacket and rearranged it over her cuts.

  “Please, Logan,” she begged. “I want to go.”

  Logan gritted his teeth. “You expect my wife to get in your van next to the guy who hurt her? Seriously?”

  “Oh. I didn’t know.” The woman looked sorry and Logan relented.

  “My brother-in-law’s a surgeon. We’ll be fine.”

  Mark’s shoulders lifted and his posture altered at Logan’s familial acknowledgement. It was acceptance of gigantic proportions for a man who felt he had no right to expect it. The three men and one pram flanked Hana protectively as they walked away from the milling cops and chatter of radios.

  Odering stopped a male officer following them, shaking his head. “I know where to find them,” he assured him. Then he raised an eyebrow. “Unless they take off elsewhere, which wouldn’t be the first time the Du Roses gave me the slip.” Odering crooked his finger at the female officer standing by the shed, her blonde hair flying free of her ponytail in the breeze. “Lucy, you go. Check her out as best you can, photograph anything important and bag her clothing. If she says anything, write it down.”

  “Yes, sir.” The policewoman shadowed the family unnoticed, slipping into the unit behind Mark and ignoring the anger on Logan Du Rose’s fearsome face when he noticed her. Tama’s reaction was different.

  “Luce! I’m glad you’re here; it’s been a bloody nightmare.” He seized her in strong arms and buried his face in her blonde hair and the policewoman’s cheeks pinked with embarrassment.

  “No, Tama,” she said, biting her lip. “I’m on duty.”

  Logan visibly relaxed. “So you’re Lucy?” he said, smiling at her self-conscious nod. “Well, Lucy, I’m taking my wife to the bathroom to help her get this dirty clothing off.”

  “No! Please, Mr Du Rose. I have to be there!” Lucy followed them down the hallway, avoiding the blobs of mud littering the laminate floor.

  “Leave her alone!” Logan snapped as Lucy pushed on the bathroom door, resisting his strength. He poked his face through the gap, his eyes centimetres away from Lucy’s. “If you don’t allow my wife her dignity, I’ll throw you out. Do you get it?”

  Lucy swallowed and nodded, holding out the clear plastic bag in her hand. “Please can you put everything in here?”

  “Everything?” Logan’s nose wrinkled and rage and fear blazed through his eyes.

  “Yes, please. I’ll wait here.”

  Logan accepted the plastic bag and shut the door in the policewoman’s face. Lucy gazed at Tama who watched from the archway into the lounge and he rolled his eyes and drew a line across his throat.

  Logan ran the shower, unable to look at Hana as she shivered in the corner. He readied his face, assuming a businesslike guise before turning towards her. A flutter of tears dripped from Hana’s chin, bouncing off the linoleum like dropped pearls and Logan reacted instinctively, enfolding her. “Hey, baby, shh. Everything’s gonna be ok now, I’m here.”

  “Why me?” Hana’s voice sounded harsh, echoing off the tiles. “Why is it always me?” Her green eyes flashed with injustice and bitterness. “What’s wrong with me, Logan?”

  His arms tightened around her and he kissed the top of Hana’s head. “Nothing, babe, nothing. This isn’t your fault.” His voice wobbled and he fought his demons by becoming busy. “Let’s get this mud off you.” He peeled his jacket away, dropping it onto the floor and seeing again the awful scratches and cuts on his wife’s bare arms. Hana’s nails were lined with orange mud, chipped and ragged. “Do you need help with your jeans?” Logan asked, chewing his lip.

  Hana shook her head and fumbled with the zipper, hauling her pants down and struggling to step out of them. “This is ridiculous,” she sighed with exasperation as they caught over her feet and turned inside out.

  “Sit on the side of the bath,” Logan told her. Hana sat and he pulled the material over her feet, taking her socks with them and throwing everything on top of his ruined jacket. Her jeans were shredded in places but had protected Hana’s legs from the spiteful cutty grass and bush lawyer lurking in the gully. Faint red scratches marked her flesh and Logan watched her face for anxiety as he lifted her blouse over her head and undid her bra. As she stood naked in front of her husband, her body trembling from delayed shock, Logan noticed bruising round Hana’s waist and upper arms. Hand marks on the underside of her jaw finished in deep scratches at the back of her neck and Logan balled his fists in fury.

  “It hurts,” Hana said, lifting her hair and pressing her fingers against the raw skin. She winced and Logan pulled her hands away.

  “It’s gonna sting but we need to wash it.” He bit his lip. “Hana...”

  Her green eyes turned towards him and Logan took a deep breath as she pressed her breastbone and closed her eyes.

  Lucy knocked on the door, seeing the obvious agony in Logan’s face as he opened it and handed the bag of clothes through a small slit. “We need a doctor to check her out,” she whispered as sensitively as she could. “It’s important; it might be the difference between her attacker going to prison and getting away with it.”

  Logan nodded. “Ok,” he said. “We won’t be long.” Then he closed the door in Lucy’s face and locked it.

  “Won’t I do?” Mark asked. “I’m her brother. It might be kinder.”

  Lucy shook her head. “Sorry, we have procedures. She has to be questioned properly and checked over by our doctor. I know it seems harsh, but it’s about continuity of evidence. She shouldn’t be showering here; my superior will kill me.”

  Mark nodded and sat on the sofa with a bump, rubbing his hands over his eyes. The baby slept in the pram and Tama inspected the contents of the oven, bringing out the cold pasta dish. “Was this our lunch?” he asked and Mark nodded. The cheese had become a wooden, impenetrable layer, brown and crusted. “Want some?” Tama asked and Mark shook his head. “I’m hungry,” Tama mused, venting his anguish by exercising his best teenage skill. He filled a bowl and microwaved the pasta, pushing the leathery food between his lips with automaton movements.

  “I feel bad for this,” Mark whispered, changing his mind and copying him. They ate standing, leaning against the kitchen counter.

  “It’s only natural,” Tama replied, his mouth full. “Once, Logan smacked me in the face and I ate five cheeseburgers. It really helped.”

  Mark stopped eating, the pasta tumbling from his halted fork. “Logan hit you in the face?”

  “Ah yeah. But it was ages ago and I asked for it.”

  Mark swallowed and eyed the archway nervously. “That’s awful. Your own uncle hit you?”

  Tama raised an eyebrow and glared at Mark. “Yeah. But I did something wrong. Hana’s first husband didn’t ask you to beat the crap out of him for standing by her, did he?”

  Mark’s complexion paled and he placed his unfinished food on the counter with trembling hands. Oblivious, Tama folded wedges of rubbery cheese into parcels and popped them into his mouth one at a time, a sudden look of guilt crossing his face. “Oh. Sorry, Luce. Want some?”

  “No, thanks.” Lucy kept her vigil, leaning with her back against the archway, nervously fiddling with the
curly wire of her radio earpiece.

  “I might eat it all,” he said, scraping the remnants into his bowl. “Logan never eats when he’s had an upset.” Tama wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and put the platter into the dishwasher, gobbling the last mouthfuls as he heard the sound of the bathroom door opening and voices.

  Hana appeared in the lounge dressed in clean track pants and a hoodie of Logan’s. “I’m not going!” she said miserably. “I need to feed my daughter.”

  As if on cue, Phoenix popped her head up, pulling a funny face as she strained to see over the side of the pram. Tama unhooked her straps, waiting for Hana to settle on the sofa before handing her the baby. Hana seemed oddly composed as she relaxed into the familiar routine with her child, but Logan paced the floor in his dirty clothes, unable to stand still.

  “You and Mark need a shower, love,” Hana remarked. “You’re making a mess.”

  Logan looked down at the bottom of his pants and swore as if seeing the orange stained fabric for the first time. He turned on his heel and the others heard the linen cupboard door opening as he fetched a clean towel. Hana fed her baby, gently stroking Phoenix’s downy head with fingers which shook less with every passing minute. Lucy waited by the front door and Tama sat on his usual seat, watching TV with the volume turned down. Mark felt too dirty to sit, hovering by the breakfast bar and feeling stunned by the calmness of his sister. In his memories, she was highly strung and volatile and he hardly recognised the girl she was in the woman regally feeding her baby on the sofa.

  Hana felt his eyes on her and looked up, forcing a smile onto her face. “Sorry, Mark. It wasn’t the afternoon I’d planned for us,” she said. “You must be starving. I’ll get you something to eat in a second.”

  Mark looked guilty and Tama half turned his head. “It’s sweet, Ma, I’ve fed us both.”

  Mark bit his lip and pulled a face at his partner in crime as Logan emerged from the bathroom with a towel round his waist. “Bathroom’s free,” he said, running a slender hand through his dark waves. He turned and saw the look of horror on Lucy’s face as his exposed scars came into view and bit his lip. “Can’t you just go?” he asked nastily and Lucy blanched.

  “No, I have to wait for your wife. My inspector wants us to leave now; he’s already at the station.” Lucy wished Odering would burst in, taking charge of a situation she had long since lost control of. She couldn’t say he hadn’t warned her. ‘Watch Du Rose,’ he’d said and she’d ignored him, thinking the handsome Māori was as puppy-dog-like as his nephew.

  The hot water had angered Logan’s scars, making them ridged and red, the operation wound from the removal of his spleen less awful than the ragged trail under his right arm. The latter snaked down his body, disappearing into the towel. Mark eyed it with a surgeon’s interest, calculating the level of bacterial infection which might cause a mess like that, added to the complications of Logan’s haemophilia.

  Lucy couldn’t take her eyes off it and Logan retreated to the bedroom to dress, feeling self-conscious and irritated by the strangers’ presence in his safe place. Tama lent Mark clothes and the older man wandered into the lounge after his shower, clad in a pair of school track pants and a tee shirt which proclaimed the wearer to be ‘too hot to handle’ in neon print over a black background. “I look like a thug!” he complained and Tama sniggered.

  Logan gave into his compulsion, sweeping and mopping the floors between the hallway and bathroom. He threw the hall rug out of the front door, unable to get the orange mud off. He eyed the lounge floor with eagerness, deciding he’d clean it later during the sleepless night he anticipated.

  Mark’s voice cut into the silence, clearing his throat and directing his question at Hana. “Have you any injuries you’d like me to look at?” he asked, keeping his tone light.

  Logan stood transfixed as Hana smiled and shook her head. “Just bruising thanks, love and a few scratches. The biology teacher pulled me around and I fell a few times, but he didn’t deliberately hurt me. He spent more time panicking about things I didn’t understand. He was crazy...”

  “Mrs Du Rose,” Lucy interrupted. “I need you to come with me now and put your statement on tape. You remember the drill from last year, don’t you?”

  Hana nodded, winding her baby over her shoulder. Standing up, she handed Phoenix to Tama. “Please can you feed her something from the ice cube trays in the freezer?”

  “Yup.” He took the snuffling child and gave Hana a smile of encouragement.

  Hana hunted in the hall cupboard for a pair of plimsolls, her finger too sore to tie laces. Logan walked up behind her. “What’re you doing, babe? That cop looks like she’s about to blow a gasket.”

  “Sorry.” Hana sniffed and drew her sleeve across her eyes. “I usually grab my trainers but my fingers hurt too much to do laces and my boots have zips.”

  “I’ll help you,” he soothed, seeing the damp tear tracks on her cheeks. “Come out of the way and I’ll fetch something.”

  Hana stood, resting her palm against the wall as she hauled herself up. Logan snatched a pair of ankle boots from the cupboard but Hana shook her head and backed away. “They’ll look stupid with track pants,” she said, her tone becoming hysterical. “I don’t want to look stupid on top of everything else.”

  Logan gritted his teeth and reached towards the back of the cupboard. “Do these old tennis shoes still fit?” he asked, biting down on the growing irritation. At Hana’s nod he helped to push her feet into them and fastened the laces.

  “What about when they need to come off?” Her eyes were wide and frightened. “You won’t be here when I have to take them off.”

  “I will,” Logan promised. “Pete’s covering my shift.”

  “I can’t do this.” Hana shook her head and backed away, tripping over the discarded ankle boots. “I can’t live like this with you at work all the time and me alone. It’s not safe for me here; I need to leave.”

  “Hey!” Logan pulled his flailing wife into his arms. “Let’s deal with one thing at a time, babe.”

  Hana nodded and took fortifying breaths to calm herself, reassured by Logan’s strength. “Ok,” she whispered. “I’m ready.”

  In the lounge, Hana stood on tiptoe and hugged Mark, thanking him for coming to visit as though he’d popped in for tea and enjoyed a pleasant afternoon with his sister. She kissed him on the cheek and promised to call him. “Bye, Phoe, see you soon,” Hana said, blowing a kiss to her daughter, who began to grizzle.

  “She’ll be fine,” Tama said. “Get gone and then you might come back soon.”

  With a wide-eyed look of fear, Hana accepted the warm coat her husband handed her and climbed into the waiting police car. Logan accompanied her and Hana calmed, linking her sore fingers through his in the back of the car and staring blankly as the town whipped by through the windows.

  At the police headquarters, Hana went to the suite she’d been in once before. “It’s where they put women victims,” she whispered to Logan and he frowned.

  “How do you know?”

  “I came here the night I was mugged by Flick’s son. They took photographs and made a statement.”

  “You didn’t know me then.” Logan sat in the seat next to Hana, keeping hold of her hand.

  She smiled, a pained, forced expression for his benefit. “But I had noticed you,” she said wistfully. “I just didn’t think you’d be interested in someone like me.”

  “Stop,” Logan told her, his eyes narrowing. “You’re beautiful, Hana. Don’t go down that road; there’s nothing wrong with you.”

  “So why does everyone attack me?” Her voice emerged as a whine and she closed her eyes, hating the sound of it.

  Last time Hana sat alone in the prettily decorated room, but this time her husband accompanied her, his arm protectively around her shoulders. “I’m sorry I don’t have answers, babe, I really am.” The agony in his voice sounded painful and Hana selflessly suppressed her misery, hating the effec
t it had on Logan.

  The police doctor took her behind a screen to assess her injuries, standing back for Lucy to photograph them. He asked searching and invasive questions which she answered truthfully. The fat little man was nothing like Laval. “He didn’t touch me like that,” she whispered, aware of Logan on the other side of the screen. “The biology teacher took me to the gully to frighten me into silence. He said if I saw what was there, it made me complicit.” That he might have killed her seemed a distinct possibility. He’d done it before, after all.

  The statement taking process happened in the suite. Gently, Lucy and another woman officer coaxed out Hana’s tale. Logan kept physical contact with his wife throughout, giving her a sense of strength and protection with his thigh lightly touching hers.

  “The biology teacher came to the house. He said a student wanted to see me and made it sound urgent. I assumed he meant James because he’s been distressed the last few times I’ve seen him and the biology teacher agreed, although he didn’t actually name James. I shouldn’t have gone with him.” Hana stopped and ran her hands over her face, wincing as her cuts oozed.

  “What do you mean when you say, you shouldn’t have gone, Hana?” Lucy’s question made Hana’s brow furrow.

  “Why do you think?” Logan bit, gritting his teeth.

  The other officer eyeballed him. “You need to stay quiet, Mr Du Rose, otherwise you must leave.”

  Hana fidgeted, Logan’s anger communicating his stress. “I had an instinct about it,” Hana admitted. “But I foolishly ignored it, not wanting to look stupid in front of Mark, my brother. The biology teacher took my arm and I cried out and it all seemed so ridiculous. I let the pressure get to me and should have stood my ground.”