Weeping Waters

by Nicholson, Anne Maria

  ‘Hira mai ai te whekite o te rangi.’ The words of the powerful prayer rise up from within him. ‘Hira mai ai te whekite o te rangi.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  Tori opens his eyes, to hear himself uttering the ancient incantation over and over.

  ‘Just a bit of prayer,’ he says to Ben, looking slightly abashed. ‘Didn’t realise I was making such a racket.’

  ‘We’ve found them, we’ve found the scientists!’ They’re interrupted by a man’s voice crackling over the radio. It’s breaking up but they can make out some of the transmission from the helicopter.

  ‘Injuries. I repeat injuries. At least one serious. Evacuating to hospital ASAP,’ the voice says.

  ‘Sounds as if prayers might be in order,’ Ben says, turning back to Tori and shrugging when he sees he has already gone.

  A mixture of hope and fear pulsates through Tori as he runs from the building. Outside a swirling eddy is spreading the ash, spoiling Taupo’s usually pristine air. As he drives towards the marae, fragments of black ash rain onto the windscreen. He can see it settling onto suburban lawns and open paddocks like some biblical pestilence. He sprays the windscreen with water and turns on the wipers but it turns into a muddy haze and soon he is struggling to see the road ahead.

  He knows where he will find Aunty Tui. As he approaches the meeting house, he sees her sitting cross-legged on the floor of the veranda, puffing on a small bone pipe and humming as she blows out the smoke. She greets him briefly with her eyes.

  ‘Tangiwai, Tangiwai,’ she utters quietly, removing the pipe. ‘The deluge is coming.’

  ‘Frances…she’s up there, is she…?’

  ‘Aue,’ Tui shakes her head. ‘I can’t say. I don’t know. There’s a reason for everything. We must wait and see.’

  He bends to kiss Tui on the forehead. ‘Pray your hardest, Aunty. Pray for all of us.’

  ‘Ae, Tori, ae. I will.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Frances, Frances, can you hear me?’ She can hear her name but can’t open her eyes. An agonising pain is ricocheting through her body. The woman is calling her again. It’s a voice she doesn’t know. She feels hands moving over her, lifting one arm first. When they lift the other, she screams. As she starts to come to she can see the outline of two figures leaning over her.

  ‘Wriggle your toes. Can you do that?’

  Frances flexes her feet. She feels she wants to vomit. ‘Yes, I can,’ she says.

  ‘OK, OK, take it easy, you’ll be all right,’ the woman says. ‘You’ve been hurt and we have to get you out of here quickly. Just stay still.’

  Frances begins to remember the eruption and realises she is still on the mountain. She feels herself being lifted and then lowered again.

  ‘Good, you’re on the stretcher now and we’re going to put you in the chopper. We’re just putting you on oxygen. You’ve swallowed a lot of gas. Just breathe normally through your nose.’

  She tries to focus but her vision is blurry. She feels the mask cupping her face and breathes in deeply. As the two people carry her she can see the helicopter ahead with the rotor blades still running. It’s much bigger than the one Luke Gallagher normally flies but she can hear his voice. Her whole body aches as they load her inside the chopper but she feels slightly reassured as Luke throws her a smile. ‘Don’t worry, love, we’ll get you out of here soon.’

  ‘Are you all right, Frances?’ Sam is sitting on the other side of the chopper but he removes his oxygen mask and comes forward to help pull the stretcher inside. Surprised by this unusual show of concern for her safety, she smiles at him gratefully.

  ‘I don’t know. I think so,’ she says. ‘Just a lot of pain and I think I’ve broken something.’

  The oxygen curls through her lungs and she breathes it in hungrily. A third paramedic hands her some tablets and a paper cup of water. ‘Here, take these, they’ll help with the pain.’ As she swallows them, she suddenly remembers and grabs Sam by the wrist. ‘Theo, where’s Theo?’

  ‘They’ve gone to bring him back. He’s further down,’ Sam says.

  ‘What happened? I remember hanging on during the eruption but then I must have passed out.’

  ‘You did. Think you caught a rock. I was a bit luckier—just a lot of bumps and bruises. I called for help and the chopper came fifteen minutes later. It couldn’t land any sooner. We’ve just had a close call. Wasn’t our time to go.’

  Frances’ mind is racing. ‘Are they evacuating? What’s happening?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think so. The alert has gone out. They’re worried there could be further eruptions. There’s nothing we can do.’

  She hears the paramedics returning. ‘He’s bad,’ she hears one say as they bring Theo in on another stretcher.

  He is lying unconscious, barely recognisable. Caked in dried blood and ash, his face around the oxygen mask is like an ugly red and black patchwork. There are holes burnt through the arms and legs of his jacket and trouser. They pull back one sleeve, insert a needle into his left wrist and attach a drip.

  ‘OK, we’re getting out of here. Strap yourselves and the patients in,’ Luke yells. ‘This ash will rot the chopper if we don’t get out of here fast and I don’t want to stick around for another eruption.’

  As they rise up, Frances can see the remnants of a dark cauliflower cloud above them. The chopper darts sideways to avoid it, then quickly flies away towards the town.

  Glancing over to Theo, she softly calls his name. He doesn’t reply and she’s not even sure if he’s breathing. Barely able to keep her eyes open, she can still taste the gas that has left her throat raw. For the first time in years, she suddenly wants her mother and father, and she starts to cry. Then she remembers that her mother is continents away and her father is dead. Her mind spins. She thinks of Tori and, sensing his presence, suddenly no longer feels so alone. The vibrations in the helicopter are deafening, but soon they fade to the level of the soft flapping wings of a moth until she doesn’t hear them at all as she drifts into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Tori hurls a bucket of water to clear the windscreen then drives like a man possessed towards the hospital. By the time he arrives, the ash is covering all the buildings and cars in the streets and people are rushing inside to escape the blackness as it tries to infiltrate eyes, noses and throats.

  The accident and emergency desk is crowded with the sick and their carers, vying for attention. The ash is affecting the weak-lunged and a trail of parents have started to arrive with crying and coughing children in tow. The hospital has already nicknamed the ailment ‘Ruapehu throat’. Her brow furrowed in frustration, the sister in charge is trying to prioritise the wave of cases when Tori calls out to catch her attention. Looking annoyed, she nevertheless beckons him forward.

  ‘I’m waiting for a friend, one of the scientists, who is being evacuated from Ruapehu. Is there any news?’

  Her brow relaxes, she checks her watch and then looks more kindly at him. ‘I’m sorry. We’re all just waiting for them to arrive.’

  As he sits flicking through old magazines, he feels nauseous. The waiting room is hot and the cacophony of the sick and the smell of cleaning fluid oppress him. He returns outside. Ash is still falling but more lightly now, like the tail end of a black snowstorm. The car park is carpeted in ash and he can see the footsteps of those arriving at the hospital emblazoned on the concrete like a cruel parody of the Walk of Fame on Hollywood Boulevard. The ash sticks to the soles of their shoes and turns the polished cream-tiled floor inside to a dull, dirty grey.

  As he hears the chopper approaching and sees an ambulance pull away from the hospital to meet it, he starts to run. He doesn’t know where he’s going but he follows the sound of the siren to the rear of the building. Finding the strength of the desperate, he effortlessly scales a brick wall and a wire fence and keeps running across a paddock. He stands waving furiously as the draught of the descending chopper blows his hair asunder a
nd distorts his expression.

  Luke Gallagher recognises him and waves back. As soon as the chopper touches down, the ambulance backs in as closely as it can. The door opens immediately and the paramedics unload the first stretcher.

  Tori sees Theo lying motionless, his usually vibrant tanned face oddly pale. Streaks of dirt and blood remain in the creases of his brow and neck where they have escaped the attention of the paramedics. He is quickly put into the ambulance where a waiting doctor immediately starts to examine him.

  Frances’ usually shiny honey-coloured hair is matted and sticking to her head, her eyes are closed and her face is drawn, but he can see the oxygen mask moving slightly as Frances breathes in and out. He waits by the ambulance and as they bring the stretcher over he reaches out to touch her hand, a gentle squeeze. He feels the warmth of her but nothing more.

  As he is watching her being loaded into the ambulance, Tori feels someone’s eyes burning into him. He sees Sam walking from the chopper, escorted to the ambulance by a paramedic. The two men exchange glances but say nothing.

  Siren blaring, the ambulance rushes to the hospital entrance. The helicopter, needed back at the mountain, takes off again, Luke waving as he leaves. She is alive and Tori knows, wants to believe, she will survive. A tear rolls down his cheek. He sinks to his knees, a great wave of relief and gratitude rolling through him.

  When he returns to casualty, he sees Shona, tear-stained and distressed, with his children.

  ‘I went to find you and Aunty said you would be here,’ she says, grabbing hold of his arm. ‘I’ve heard Frances is injured. Is she OK?’

  ‘I think so, she’s here now being looked after. Are you all right?’

  ‘Tori, it’s Bill. He’s missing. He’s up there on the mountain.’

  ‘What was he doing? How do you know?’

  ‘I had a call from one of his mates at the army camp in Waiouru. He went up there on a survival training course with others and they think they were snow-caving up the top. They can’t contact them. I’ve tried ringing his mobile but there’s no answer.’

  ‘Stay here with us, Shona. At the moment there’s nothing you can do except wait for news.’

  ‘No, I’m going to drive up to Ruapehu as far as I can. I have to be closer to him. He might need me.’

  Kissing her on both cheeks, he sees mirrored in her eyes the same fear he carries inside. ‘I’d probably do the same thing. Keep in touch and, if I can, I’ll come up too.’

  He watches as the automatic doors close behind her and then turns to give Moana and Hemi big bear hugs.

  ‘Is Frances going to die?’ Hemi asks, and Moana hangs on his reply.

  ‘Of course not,’ he says, hoping he’s not revealing that he shares his son’s fears. ‘Let’s just wait a while and we may be able to see her.’

  Moana links her arm in her father’s and rests her head on his shoulder as they sit together like a couple of kids nervously waiting for a vaccination injection.

  Hemi fidgets and wriggles, scanning the sick and injured curiously until he starts to look bored. ‘Dad, I’m hungry,’ he says.

  Tori slips him a ten dollar note and points him in the direction of the café. ‘Yeah, off you go. A man still has to eat, even in an emergency.’

  A neatly groomed woman with short grey hair is trying to win the sister’s attention.

  ‘I’m here to see Theo Rush,’ Tori hears her say, and he goes over to introduce himself.

  ‘Are you Mrs Rush? I’m a friend of Frances Nelson, who just came in with Theo from the mountain.’

  He can see the strain and fear in her eyes as she turns to him.

  ‘Yes, I’m Sue,’ she says, shaking his hand. ‘Have you heard anything?’

  ‘We’re all just waiting,’ he demurs. ‘Join us if you like.’

  Her face is pleasant and, for a woman nudging 60, fresh and clear. But she wears a look of resignation that reveals more than mere words ever could. As she greets Tori’s children she simply says, ‘Theo was always prepared for this.’

  They sit together, each imagining what their future might be without the ones they love. Tori watches the hands of the large white clock on the waiting-room wall moving with infinitesimal slowness. With each tiny movement, his self-doubt increases. Maybe he is fooling himself when he thinks Frances will recover.

  How could he bear to lose her now, when they are just beginning? It’s only a few months since they met, yet he feels fundamentally changed, finds it hard to remember his life before she came into it. He was happy then, wasn’t he? Sure, he was missing his wife, but he had the kids, plenty of fish, lots of money…Now he thinks of Frances all the time. Nothing else seems as important.

  He focuses again on the clock and is surprised to see that less than half an hour has passed.

  ‘Mr Maddison, Mrs Rush? I’m Doctor Vicky Adams.’ A striking-looking woman with red hair pulled into a smooth pony-tail comes towards them. Clipboard in hand and stethoscope slung casually around her neck, she summons them into the treatment area.

  ‘Kids, stay here, don’t go anywhere,’ Tori calls over his shoulder as the swing doors close behind him. As he follows her, he notices that, beneath her white hospital coat, the doctor is wearing blue jeans and red sling-back shoes.

  ‘Please wait here, Mr Maddison,’ she says, pointing to a wooden bench. ‘Frances is going to be OK. She inhaled a lot of toxic fumes, which really knocked her around and has made her very tired, and she’s hurt her shoulder. She’s in X-ray now but they’ll be bringing her back down soon so you can see her then.’

  Then she draws Sue aside and in hushed tones talks to her about Theo. Tori can’t make out the words but as she taps the clipboard to emphasise what she is saying he sees Sue’s face fall and her eyes look down as she lets out a deep sigh. The doctor leads her away and they disappear behind another swing door.

  His mind spins with a mixture of relief and concern. Frances will be OK. The words make him want to leap into the air with joy. OK is such a nothing little word, yet now it equals fantastic, beautiful, incredible, miraculous. He feels guilty being so happy when Sue has clearly had serious news about Theo’s condition. He finds a nurse and checks whether he can bring Moana and Hemi through as well. When he returns with them, the nurse ushers them into the casualty treatment area and points towards a closed curtain.

  Tori gently slides the curtain back and peeps through. Frances is lying on the bed, one arm in a sling, an oxygen mask on her face. As she hears him enter, she looks up and her eyes light up instantly with pleasure. With her freshly washed hair and dressed in a white hospital robe, she looks much younger, child-like.

  As he goes to her side she lifts the mask and he leans over to kiss her lips for the first time. They part reluctantly, laughing and crying all at once until she flinches in pain when she bumps her arm.

  ‘God, that hurts. They don’t think it’s broken but the tissue is damaged and I’m going to have some huge bruises. I think I was hit by a flying rock.’

  ‘Don’t move. No more kissing. We don’t want you to die of passion,’ he jokes.

  Moana and Hemi come closer and, ignoring the warning, Moana leans over to kiss Frances on the cheek. She hands her an early flowering daffodil she found in her grandmother’s garden. Its centre is the colour of egg yolk and the petals around it pale lemon. Frances smiles at her as she smells the sweet freshness.

  ‘I’ve got something for you too,’ Hemi says. From behind his back he produces a lollipop which he plants next to her where its bright red and yellow wrapping shines against the whiteness of the sheets.

  ‘I’ve got something good to tell you, Frances,’ he says.

  ‘What’s that?’ she encourages the boy.

  ‘Mum’s here,’ he says with a big smile.

  ‘Oh shut up, you idiot,’ Moana interrupts and the smile dies on his lips.

  Frances opens her mouth in surprise to say something then quickly closes it again. Her eyes are seeking answers as she turn
s to Tori.

  ‘Don’t worry. She’s staying with the kids at my mother’s house. She’s just here for a week. Then she’ll go back to Auckland.’

  ‘She says she wants to stay and you won’t let her!’ Hemi suddenly snaps before running out of the ward.

  ‘Moana, please follow him and make sure he doesn’t leave the hospital.’

  Tori shakes his head and drags a chair over so he can sit close to Frances. Taking her hand, he raises it to his lips and holds it against his cheek.

  ‘I’m sorry, Frances, the boy is upset.’ He struggles for the words then meets her gaze. ‘What he says is true. She did ask to come back. To come back to me. To be honest, if you hadn’t come into my life I might have let her. It’s not always easy with the kids. But you’ve changed everything. You’re the only woman I want in my life. You have to believe that.’

  A terrible doubt trickles through Frances’ mind. She has lived with deception before and not recognised it. But Tori is looking so worried and upset that she dismisses her qualms. She brings his hand to her lips, silently signalling her trust through her eyes.

  The sliding of the curtain interrupts them and Dr Adams appears with X-rays in hand.

  ‘You’re extraordinarily lucky your shoulder and arm aren’t broken. They’re badly strained and bruised. You’re going to be sore for a couple of weeks but otherwise I’d expect them to mend well. We’d like to keep you here for another two days—you’ve inhaled a lot of nasty gas.’