by Bowes, K T
Hana walked slowly, absorbing the moment and frantically struggling to comprehend what she saw. Her late husband’s huge brown eyes fixed on her from the face of the child and the little boy watched her slow progress through the people milling around her. Hana’s hands shook by the time she reached her son, with emotions she couldn’t even begin to process. His face held fear and defiance as he greeted her with uncharacteristic awkwardness. “Mum.”
Hana trembled as she greeted the woman next to Bodie. She felt like a swan, gliding across the surface whilst her legs paddled furiously, hidden by the swirling waters beneath. She offered her hand to the girl in a formal handshake and tuned in perceptively to the girl’s fear and apprehension as she felt a tremor in the other woman’s fingers. “I’m Amy,” she said, her eyes darting from Bodie to his mother and back again.
“Hello, Amy.” Hana kept the rigid smile on her face while suppressing a multitude of questions and accusations.
The whole thing unfolded in front of Hana like a picnic rug being laid on the ground. Bodie’s happiness at Police College, his sudden exit just under four years ago, moving away so quickly and his subsequent darkness and deep restlessness. Why hadn’t he told her about the little boy, her grandson? She glanced across at her husband’s back as he laughed and joked with his brother and knew she needed to leave it for now. She gave her son a look which instantly made him feel like a child again. The look said, we’ll deal with this later! His relief was palpable. He detested scenes but then so did Hana so it was a reasonable gamble.
The girl with Bodie still looked terrified, so Hana tried to put her at ease. “Where do you work, Amy?” she asked politely, hating herself for the inane conversation starter in such a surreal circumstance.
“I’m a cop,” the girl ventured, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Hana smiled as her brain did mental gymnastics. So they worked together. They had a son! “In Whangarei?”
“No, Hamilton.”
“Can we go now?” The small boy fidgeted, sucking his thumb and peering down at shiny shoes which looked new. His white shirt appeared rumpled and the neat bow tie at his neck tilted to a jaunty angle. Hana bent down on her haunches to speak to him and he looked shyly up at her. The combination of his inherited features rattled her, her late husband, Vik’s eyes boring into hers as her new husband’s voice rang out good humoredly nearby. Hana held out her hand to the child, offering a grown-up handshake. He took it, although he used the hand with a wet thumb. “I’m Hana, what’s your name?”
He studied her for a full minute as Hana’s bent knees began to feel uncomfortable at her prolonged squat. “Nope, you’re Granny and I’m Jas.”
Hana felt the sudden intake of breath from the adults either side of him, but the boy was oblivious as the thumb went straight back into his mouth. He seemed blissfully unaware of the landmine he had casually detonated.
Hana stood up, carefully so as not to overtax her legs into making her fall over. Collecting herself elegantly, she smiled down at the little boy and pointed over to the buffet. “Why don’t you go and help yourself, Jas.” Hana glanced at Amy. “If that’s ok with Mummy?”
The child took a look at his mother for approval before slowly moving toward the food. The adults were surging but he was a brave soul, showing grim determination as he waited his turn and filled a plate with avid concentration. Hana looked at her son. He seemed settled and happy underneath the fear which caused the wobble in his fingers as he ran a hand over his handsome face. His eyes pleaded with her for mercy. “I suppose we’ve got some talking to do another time.” Hana smiled at him. Bodie’s sigh contained gratitude.
Hana reached out and hugged him to her one-handed, ensuring she clasped the girl’s hand in her free one. She had to get this right. Somehow. “It will be ok,” she promised, in a hushed whisper near her son’s ear. The moral high ground was lonely terrain, especially as her husband was quite possibly about to announce a secret of his own in front of her children. Hana’s heart sank. She needed to stop him.
As she kissed Bodie on the cheek, Hana felt a light touch on her back and Logan’s hand ran up her spine and onto her shoulder. It infused her with a sensation of love and intimacy and she turned toward him and smiled, a rosy flush lighting her cheeks.
“Come.” Logan took his wife’s hand, winked at Bodie and led her up to the other side of the buffet table, to a stage set up at the end of the room. Pulling her up the steps, he faced the guests, putting his arm firmly around Hana and holding her to him tightly. Realisation bit into Hana’s stomach and she took a ragged breath, trying hard not to look at her children. This is a disaster!
Hana’s frantic brain worked through her parenting over the last eight years. She always tried not to shock her children, taking the time to explain her rationale to them carefully, rather than expecting them to go along with massive leaps of faith without understanding. Now she was doing what she hated, dropping something massive on them publicly. Her mind-voice alternated between screeching sorry and help.
Hana kept her eyes down, staring at the beautiful parquet floor. Her flailing fingers tugged at the back of Logan’s shirt to stop him, but he concentrated hard on getting his words right and ignored her. At least she thought he ignored her, until his other hand reached around to seize hers and hold it in a crushing grip, so she couldn’t yank his shirt clean out of his trousers. “I’ve gathered all our friends and family here,” Logan began as Hana tried to free her fingers from his grip and resume her shirt-tugging - or worse if it got him to stop speaking. Perhaps a wedgie would be more effective. Yanking his underpants over his head would be an attention grabber, if a tad juvenile.
Logan continued on regardless, “I wanted us to celebrate Hana’s forty something birthday,” he halted as everyone laughed. “But also for you to witness the blessing of our marriage. Hana and I were married yesterday in Hamilton and I wanted to share the moment with all of you. I’ve asked Pastor Marcus to do that for us, in the sight of God.”
Hana stopped her tugging and looked up at Logan. He was actually inviting God into their marriage? For her? Then she remembered Izzie and Bodie and looked hurriedly at each of them for their reaction. Bodie bent down, wiping sauce off Jas’s shirt so she couldn’t gauge, but Izzie stared at her with an intentness that freaked Hana out. Hana felt her loyalties thoroughly divided. She wanted to go to her daughter and reassure her, but she needed to stay on the stage with her new husband and do the first thing he’d ever asked of her.
The decision was taken away from her as Marcus bounced up onto the stage and the shocked guests began to clap slowly. The sound grew in volume and momentum as Marcus stood between them, arms around them both. “Adam and Eve were joined in the sight of God,” his voice boomed across the enormous room. “These guys are a bit older than nubile sixteen year olds but their commitment to each other is still valuable. Marriage is for life and nothing good ever comes of broken relationships. So, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Logan and Hana, I bless you and pray it’s not too late for babies.”
Logan looked shocked, his mouth dropping slightly open and Hana cringed. Bloody Marcus! What a thing to say. The pastor finished with a loud and booming “Amen,” and Hana looked forward to escaping the spotlight.
No such good fortune for her. Marcus kept a firm hand on her shoulder as Hana glanced hopefully towards the stairs and Logan grappled around in his trouser pocket. “Just stay here a second longer,” he whispered and Hana’s expression was withering as she contemplated kicking her son-in-law. “Behave, woman!” he hissed and Logan smirked.
From his trouser pocket, Hana’s new husband pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. To her horror, he unfolded it to its A4 size, smoothed out the folds and cleared his throat. It was written by hand in his neat left-handed, slanting script. Logan began with a welcome and his mihimihi. “Tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā tatou katoa…” Hana listened to her husband’s native language tumbling eloquently f
rom his full lips and rolling over her like a soft sheet. The paper fluttered at his side, not needed for the familiar detailing of his heritage; the canoe his Māori ancestors arrived in New Zealand on, the river and mountain of his lineage, the natural phenomena that made him into Logan Du Rose. It was edifying and strengthened Hana, all those things belonging to her by proxy. “Ko Tainui te waka…” When they made love he often spoke in his native tongue to her, lilting soft words, intoxicating and ethereal. Other times he spoke French, knowing it annoyed her English blood. Hana watched Logan’s mouth move, fighting the urge to reach up and kiss his sensitive lips.
Logan’s grey eyes, shrouded in their black lashes turned in her direction and Hana jumped and tuned back in. Logan switched to English and lifted the paper up to read it. His fingers shook and the paper jerked. She wanted to tell him to stop, but couldn’t.
“Hana, I first saw you twenty-six years ago on a dirty tube train in the middle of London and I fell in love with you then. I spent many wasted years looking for the beautiful redhead and when I finally gave up and returned home, there you were, grovelling on the car park floor for a lipstick you’d dropped.” The gathered audience laughed at the familiar klutzy image of Hana and she looked down shyly at her shoes. “I tried so hard to get near you with my stalker antics and then one day you just plonked yourself down next to me and took my heart completely.”
Hana daren’t look at any of the faces below the stage as everyone’s eyes fixed on her. Logan’s hand betrayed his nerves, but his voice spoke confidently into the silence. “I promise to love and cherish you forever, Hana Du Rose.” He turned to face her and his grey eyes were penetrating and serious. “I want to be the first person you see in the morning and the last one you see at night. For as long as we’re both alive, I want it to be together. I intend to make up for lost time and enjoy every moment with you. And I promise to tell you every day; you’re beautiful.”
A tear slipped down Hana’s cheek at this nervous and unexpected bearing of Logan’s soul. It felt raw and touching and so…public. It cost him. She saw that in his sparkling eyes, reflected in the open mouthed astonishment on Peter North’s face. Logan didn’t do emotional spectacle, especially not public. This was for her.
Hana gulped, knowing she needed to respond. Even though she hadn’t written anything down, she fumbled through her own declaration of love. “Logan, I love you. After Vik died, I never thought I would say that to anyone else and it would have been such a waste. I didn’t realise how much love I still had left to give until I met you. Thank you for persevering with me - I know I didn’t make it easy for you,” Hana bit her lip and heard a snort from Peter North. Henrietta slapped him playfully on the forehead and the sound reverberated around the room. He rubbed it indignantly and she whispered her apologies, causing those nearby to smirk.
“You have no idea how much I appreciate your love and faith in me. I promise not to let you down and I will stay utterly faithful to you, as long as I live.”
Logan blinked in surprised at Hana’s odd promise. After Caroline, faithfulness was a non-negotiable for him. Hana saw his confusion and swallowed the lump in her throat. He couldn’t yet know how badly Hana’s heart had already been broken.
Logan kissed Hana full on the lips as everyone clapped and Hana felt dizzyingly happy, marred only by the hint of terror that surfaced at the thought of approaching Izzie and Bodie. The look she darted towards Marcus as he moved away from them, caused him to take a step back onto the stage. He leaned back and murmured in her ear, “Izzie will be fine. It’s me she’s angry at,” adding at Hana’s look of confusion, “because I knew and didn’t tell her.” He left the stage, shooting back over his shoulder at Hana, “Boy, am I going to pay for this!”
He did pay for it too, having to cart the increasingly heavy Elizabeth around all night while Izzie chatted and laughed, intermittently glaring at him from across the room. Marcus seemed immune to the antics of his wife, eating heartily and carrying Elizabeth in his strong arms without complaint. Descending from the stage, congratulations swamped the couple and despite their surprise, the guests seemed genuinely happy for them. Most of them, anyway.
Bodie was unreadable as he kissed Hana and shook Logan’s hand. Hana tried to determine what was going on in his head, but failed epically, as always. She knew it would need addressing, but not tonight. The music began quietly in the background and the volume of chatter increased to compensate. Hana moved towards the seats and her daughter, standing nervously twisting her wedding ring. “I didn’t mean to shock you.” Hana’s face looked pinched with fear as she offered her the untouched glass of Baileys in her hand. Izzie refused with a shake of her head. “But it’s your favourite. Are you mad at me?” Hana was alarmed to Izzie put her head down, a tear rolling down her brown cheek.
Hana led her daughter to a chair, placing the glass carefully on the table between them. “Sit down, Izz. I’m so sorry about all this…” Hana promised herself she wouldn’t apologise for her mammoth life choice, reprimanding herself as the word tumbled out on an automatic loop.
Izzie sat, appearing to dissolve as the tears came thicker and faster. Hana moved her chair to be nearer, enfolding her daughter in a motherly hug which needed no words but could last as long as required. Alfred turned down the main lights creating a nightclub atmosphere and Hana and Izzie were not readily observed in the gloom which pervaded, while Alfred struggled with the switch for the coloured lights and a strobe. Izzie broke away when the need for a tissue became urgent and Hana’s dress sported a wet patch at the shoulder which included a bit of snot. Izzie retrieved a tissue from her sleeve and dabbed at Hana, before blowing heartily into the small square that was not nearly robust enough to receive the contents. Hana saw Marcus coming towards them, balancing Elizabeth on his hip and then turn away as he saw Izzie struggling with the tissue.
Hana waited patiently for her daughter to compose herself, feeling guilty she had caused her so much misery. “I’m sorry Izz. I should have told you myself. I think I got caught up in my own stuff. I don’t know what to say…” Hana broke off as Marcus returned with a whole toilet roll. He plopped it down on the table in front of Izzie, sitting down as Elizabeth grew fractious and wriggly. Hana reached out for her and settled her on her knee, kissing the top of her downy head and smelling the sweet smell of baby.
“Hey darlin’, it’ll all be ok.” Marcus moved to Izzie and put his arm possessively round her shoulders, kissing the side of her face and swiping a huge wedge of tissue from the roll for her to mop up with. Izzie smiled gratefully at him and Hana cuddled the baby, waiting patiently for the recriminations. She felt glad Logan wasn’t going to hear the argument. Hana glanced across at her gorgeous husband, his neat backside looking firm in his expensive suit trousers. His muscular arms flexed as he helped Alfred sort out the lights over in the corner. “Mum, I’m pregnant.”
Hana’s concentration snapped back to her daughter, waiting for the unexpected words to filter into her brain. She must have heard wrong. “I thought you just said you were…” Hana stared at her daughter, who continued to mop at her eyes and blow her nose. Marcus stroked his wife gently on her shoulder, trying to make her feel secure and loved. Even he looked fearful despite the bravado.
“Congratulations then,” Hana said, injecting joviality into her voice, sure it was the right thing to say, “I know Elizabeth’s small, but…well, maybe you could get a pastorate up here and I could help out.”
Marcus looked momentarily disconcerted at the suggestion of moving, perfectly happy and fulfilled where he was. He looked relieved when Izzie replied, “I feel settled in Invercargill. I don’t really want to move.”
It dawned on Hana, her secret wedding had hardly even touched her daughter. Izzie’s problems were so compounded by fear. She quickly put on her mothering hat in order to respond to a different situation than the one she expected when she first sat down. Hana turned Elizabeth towards her, making faces and smiling, rejoicing when the chil
d returned her smile in a beautiful display of gums. The baby made gurgling noises and beat the air with her tiny fists, leaning backwards into Hana’s palms in frighteningly jerky movements, which made Hana grip her a little more tightly. The mother in her tried to speak sense into the situation. “Izzie, remember what we always did? We looked at the worst-case-scenario and then decided how we would cope with it. Then we prayed about it and expected it to be ok because God was onto it.”
Izzie nodded but continued trying to sort out her eyes and nose, which leaked profusely. Her mother’s trick worked for her exams and her move down south. Later, it worked for the impending birth of her daughter, whom they knew from those last scans had all the hallmarks of Down Syndrome. But Izzie could not be convinced it would come off this time somehow. “I don’t know what the worst-case-scenario is anymore,” she wailed, fortunately drowned out by the music. “Any new child to cope with alongside the incredibly draining demands of Elizabeth will be exhausting. The possibility of another baby with Downs is out of range of my ability to think clearly, let alone plan for.” Izzie blew her nose again.
Marcus darted a nervous look at Hana, begging her with his eyes to help. Between them they recognised the moment possessed the potential to get out of hand. His wife had done a fair bit of screaming at him over the last few weeks and Hana saw the wariness in his face. He didn’t want a repeat of it tonight. “Let’s talk about this another time,” Marcus tactfully suggested.