by Bowes, K T
Alfred continued his angry pacing. “So I’ve come all this way and in an hour or so, I’ll have to just leave?”
“Yep, you and me both,” Hana said sadly.
Alfred was enraged. He whipped round to face his son, his grey eyes glinting. “I told you that medical insurance was a waste of money! This is ridiculous!”
A little light went on in Logan’s brain and a smile began to play on his lips. Hana looked from one man to the other without understanding, just as the bell sounded for the end of visiting time.
Later that day Hana grovelled in a cardboard box in the spare room. “Logan said it was in here,” she told Alfred, who poked around fecklessly in a banana box. “Aha!” She held up the white envelope triumphantly. “Get out of jail free.”
Hana phoned the insurers and gave them the policy number and even though it was out of hours, they assured her they would deal with Logan’s case immediately. “He has a gold care policy,” a girl on the other end informed her. She sounded about twelve years old. “I’ll put the request through and it’ll all be sorted.”
“So will you tell the hospital I’m allowed to stay with him?” Hana asked hopefully. “They keep making me drive home again.”
“Oh that won’t be an issue from now on,” the girl assured her. “You will be able to come and go as you please, just as soon as we get Mr Du Rose sorted out.”
“Can I just ask you…” Hana paused. It was really none of her business. “My husband’s been paying for this policy since he left university with a ten year gap when he was abroad. Why is it such a big premium?”
“You’ll have to discuss that with Mr Du Rose,” the girl told Hana sweetly. “I can’t discuss anything other than immediate arrangements with you at the moment. I’m not authorised to talk about specific health needs.”
“Oh it’s a waste of money,” Alfred insisted. “We’ve argued about it heaps of times.”
“Well it looks like it finally paid off,” Hana mused and Alfred barked out a laugh.
“With what he’s paid over the years, he could have researched and constructed himself a brand new bloody body!”
Bodie returned to the cottage with Jas, having collected him from kindy. Amy was at work. Jas carried lots of different pictures to show Hana and was beside himself at the brand new great-grandad he met coming out of the bathroom as the little boy came running up the steps and into the hall. At first Jas was curious but shy, progressing quickly to bouncy and excitable at the news that Alfred was related to him, albeit by marriage. “I remember you from the party.” He bounced up and down on the spot. “You broked the lights.”
It proved particularly hard to get Jas to bed on time and even then, he kept popping out of the double bed he was sharing with Bodie, to check Alfred was still there.
Eventually, around eleven o’clock, Alfred reluctantly accepted the fourth bedroom for the night with Bodie deeming it far too late for him to start the journey home. Hana was shattered and went to bed earlier, leaving her son and father-in-law talking in the kitchen. Alfred probably told the skilled cop far more than he realised during the couple of hours of harmless chatting and Bodie told him little in return.
“He was quite candid,” Bodie told Amy the next day in whispered tones. “But one thing which did interest me was that Logan’s older brother died years ago from a blood disorder and after a beer or three, Alfred let slip one of the boys wasn’t his. He spoke with real disappointment about the older son Barry, who died so I’m assuming it must have been him. Family sounds a damn mess from what I overheard Mum saying to Pastor Allen the other night. I’m worried about her!”
“The brother was a doctor, wasn’t he?” Amy whispered and Bodie nodded.
“I think so. They’re all very alike, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, but I think it’s the distinctive grey eyes. The lawyer sister was quite severe, wasn’t she?”
Bodie snorted. “I’ve met women like her before, holding her own in a harsh male environment. She was very like the old man, aye?”
“No, more like the mother,” Amy shook her head.
“Does she have those weird eyes too?” Bodie couldn’t remember. He fought his own nerves that night, thinking he was taking Amy to his mother’s birthday party. He hadn’t known if he was going to introduce Jas to her as his son, but should have realised he looked so much like a young Izzie, his mother would guess. He wondered if Hana realised how complicated her new family was and if the information about Barry was common knowledge.
The next day, Hana got a call from the Bramwell Hospital. “Your husband was moved here early this morning and you’re most welcome to pop down and see him as soon as you wish.” The polite caller also informed her, “Mr Du Rose wanted you to know you can stay as long as you want. We don’t have restrictions.”
Such was the sad state of affairs in the health system, which meant Logan improved far quicker in the private hospital than in the state. It was a relaxed and unhurried environment and Hana wondered how many people were stuck in the Waikato Hospital suffering bouts of desperation kicking against the system, yet would improve within days elsewhere. Pity the insurance premiums were so high. She hadn’t even known Logan possessed one and he was still reluctant to discuss it.
“Not a waste of money now is it, old man?” Hana heard Logan jibing his father when she walked into the room with cups of hot coffee. Alfred pulled a face and refused to comment.
Alfred stayed for a few nights in the end and came to see his son every day. He told Hana why Logan kept the astronomical insurance policy. “Way back when Logan went to Auckland General with a hunting wound, he laid in a corridor for over three hours before they realised how serious it was. The wound got infected. It was from a dirty machete, see. The emergency room was busy and they kept putting him behind all the car accidents and stabbings. Miriam complained, but back in the day, brown skin was filth and the white nurses treated Māori women real bad. It’s the bloody reason why she insisted on nursing Barry at home when he got real sick, because she didn’t trust the hospital system to make him well.”
“So you knew how Logan was injured?” Hana was surprised as Logan always gave the impression the whole thing was hushed up. The old man shook his head.
“Jack dealt with it all,” he admitted. “But Logan and me are close. I knew. Logan wasn’t like Barry you see…Miriam she…well, it doesn’t matter now does it? Things look very different from a long way back. She made a mistake. And we all paid for it.”
Hana was stunned. Barry was a cuckoo then? She didn’t expect Alfred to be so candid about it. It explained why Michael and Logan were so close perhaps and why Logan said Barry was different. Alfred spoke with genuine affection about Logan, telling Hana emotionally, “I loved that child from the first moment he was put into my arms. He’s my favourite. He’s done more for me and Miriam than all the others put together.”
Hana was unsure as to the wisdom of his admission of favouritism, having deliberately fought that impulse as a mother and she wondered what it was her husband did to attract such adoration from the old man.
Alfred was more frank and chatty away from home. Hana found she enjoyed his company immensely. His wizened face would crinkle up in a wicked grin and he had a hearty laugh, which must once have rung loudly through the corridors of his house in happier times when it was a family home and not full of strangers. He didn’t hide his affection for his son. He clearly adored him.
As Logan spent long hours in his hospital room, Alfred sat by him, discussing how they would rotate the crops and stock in the furthest paddocks and which of the mares to sell or keep. Logan seemed to have a good handle on the business, despite his vocation as a teacher and Hana was oddly surprised by his business acumen. It was like seeing him in another world.
Returning from the dairy across the road with bags of junk food the men requested, Hana heard them talking through the open door. She heard Alfred say, “He turned up with a loaded .22 looking for you. Says he�
��ll only talk to you. His boys have been threatening the stockmen.”
“All right,” she heard her husband reply in a low voice. “I’ll go see him when I get out of here. I’ll take the boys. It won’t take me long to get over this and then I’ll come. I’ll sort it out.”
“Well, I need you to,” Alfred said, hatred underpinning his tone. “I never want to see that man’s face again, not as long as I live.”
“I said I’ll do it! This is your bloody mess, not mine and don’t you forget it!”
Hana heard the hardness in Logan’s voice and it alarmed her, but she was astounded he thought he would be sorting out someone with a gun in a few days. He told her so little about his life. It was like pulling out teeth trying to get any confidences from him but the more she got, the less she understood and it frightened her. She remembered the sense that Logan was in charge of the hotel. It wasn’t an overt claim, but an underlying feeling of power and authority which oozed from him. Perhaps it was the things that weren’t said which revealed the most.
Alfred seemed so sincere and yet she wondered spitefully if he really did come to see his son or to get his assurance he would sort out this latest problem.
Hana tried to ask Logan about it later, when Alfred nipped to the toilet. “Why were you talking about men with loaded guns?” she asked, making her tone sound innocent. Logan’s face flashed a peculiar warning which she hadn’t seen before and his eyes held hers in a steely gaze. She knew he wasn’t going to tell her.
“Nothing for you to worry about.” He held her hand and his fingers rubbed gently across her wedding ring, his eyes never breaking contact with hers. It felt uncomfortable. She wondered within herself if the choice was between knowing him completely and losing him, would she choose to let some things remain a mystery?
Hana lay in bed that night listening to the moreporks and possums giving their night calls and pondered on the things she loved in Logan. She reluctantly admitted before sleep came, the darkness within him was part of the attraction. It makes me feel safe. She mistook him at first for a good-looking English teacher with a little bit of power in their sheltered educational world. There was much, much more to Logan Du Rose, a metal backbone formed from emotional and physical hardship, pain and adversity. There was no doubt he could think on his feet, or that he was respected in that other world. Whilst it terrified Hana to her core, it also made her feel cosseted. It wasn’t like she married one of the Kray twins. Was it?
Bodie, Amy and Jas left her in peace while Alfred was staying, although Hana met Jas and Amy at the Bramwell hospital one evening. Jas was desperate to give ‘Grampa’ a sort of grey-blob-thing, which he made out of papier mache. Allegedly it was a horse and to Logan’s relief the thing was not bound for him, but for Alfred. “It’s not for you, Poppa Logan,” Jas informed him and Logan nodded with relief.
“Suddenly everyone at kindy is intensely jealous of Jas,” Amy whispered to Hana, during the presentation-of-the-blob-ceremony. “That, or they don’t believe a word he says.”
A few months before, the little boy would have watched with sadness and curiosity as other children bounced to their feet to tell stories about their weekends with family, but now he was the ‘King of Carpet Time’ dominating the airwaves with tales of ambulances and weddings.
“I arrived at kindy in full uniform yesterday, having been urgently summoned by the teacher to talk about Jas and his ‘stories.’ The staff weren’t sure whether to believe him or not, so were trying to decide if they should refer him to an educational psychologist or write it all down and have it published! I felt so embarrassed. I admitted it was all true and his teacher used her oh-so-professional-face to try and hide the fact she didn’t believe me either. Stupid woman!”
Amy shrugged in irritation. “Then it was home time and Jas needed to go to his child-minder. So I texted her not to come out in the rain and took him there in the police car. The other kids were waiting by the veranda to be picked up, so Jas climbed into the back seat of the squad car and waved like the queen to this open-mouthed audience of three, four and five-year-olds. I deliberately put the two tones and lights on for one beat, just to wind his teacher up and excite the children,” Amy giggled. “She looked horrified but Jas lay back in his seat, arms behind his head in a paroxysm of bliss and said really casually. ‘I’m the Man.’ Far out! It was hilarious.”
Amy and Hana giggled uncontrollably at the facial expression which Amy described Jas wearing. Jas, still in the process of a lengthy description of how he made the ‘horse blob,’ asked them to please be quiet. Alfred and Logan peered at the round grey thing with numerous sticking out bits, undoubtedly a generous amount of legs for any horse. They both wore faces of abject seriousness, Logan’s a tad perplexed in a teacher-kind-of-way and Amy and Hana, snorting with laughter went to sit out in the corridor, each blaming the other.
That Friday, Alfred left town after sitting for a while with his son. Hana grew bored of their talk about brood mares and sire fees and went for a walk around the grounds to give them space. As she came up the steps to the hospital, she bumped into an unexpected visitor. Pastor Allen was opening the front doors and he held them for her as she ran up behind him. “Ah, I can see from your face things are much better than last time we met.” He smiled. “I’ve been praying for you both,” he promised and his blue eyes twinkled.
“Thanks Allen,” Hana touched his arm. “Logan’s recovering well and his father came to see him. He should be able to go home next week.”
“I know. I’ve been ringing to find out, once I eventually found him. The mortuary assistant fortunately didn’t recognise the name. Sounds like he’s doing pretty well after the hospital-hop.”
“Sorry. I should have let you know.” Hana bit her lip and looked guilty. Allen laughed and pushed her shoulder.
“It’s fine. I’m a detective in my other job.”
Hana took the pastor upstairs to meet Logan. The men shook hands warmly. “Hey, thanks for praying for me. Hana said you did.” Logan looked embarrassed. Hana hid her surprise, assuming he would have forgotten her tearful gushing as he opened his eyes. She looked out of the window feeling embarrassed.
Alfred stood up woodenly and shook hands, obviously intimidated by the protestant preacher. Hana thought for one awkward moment the old man was about to effect a majestic bow and held her breath. “Take my seat, vicar,” Alfred offered and Hana suppressed her snort.
“No, no, I don’t want to disturb you. Just calling in,” Allen beamed, including everyone in his joviality.
“Sit!” Alfred insisted and Allen bumped his rear end onto the seat pad in fright, the smile wavering on his lips. “I’m leaving now, anyways.”
The old man squeezed Logan’s hand silently and nodded a goodbye to him. “So you won’t forget?” he asked Logan pointedly.
Logan shook his head. “Have I ever?”
“I’ll walk you down,” Hana offered as Alfred shook his head and smiled at his son. Pastor Allen unsettled the old man for some reason and she didn’t want his visit to end badly.
“I’ve been so glad of your company,” she said to him on the front steps, feeling unexpectedly tearful.
“Aw, it’s been a pleasure, young lady,” he flashed her the classic Du Rose smile, a reminder of the handsome enigmatic man he once was.
Hana felt sad as she watched the old man shift things around in his bag, trying to find a tape to listen to on the aged music player on the way home. They felt like a proper family with him sitting by Logan’s bedside, Bodie, Jas and Amy all gathered around. Hana felt oddly empty, knowing she would be up at the cottage alone again that night.
Alfred hugged her hard, kissing her wetly on her cheek and looking as though he struggled to leave. “Haere rā, my dear,” he said fondly and rubbed his blunted thumb across her chin with affection. “Visit soon?”
Hana nodded. The moment was punctuated by the weather, raining in giant, uncomfortable spits of water and in a second, Alfred was in the
car and gone; Jas’ horse sat proudly on the front passenger seat. Hana waved until she knew he could no longer see her and then set off back to her husband.
Pastor Allen sat in Alfred’s newly vacated seat and Hana offered to fetch him coffee. “No thanks,” he politely declined, “but how about I pray for you both before I leave?”
Hana glanced nervously across at Logan but got nothing back. “Yes, please. That would be good,” she said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. She bowed her head, but couldn’t resist peeking at Logan to see what he was doing. She was non-plussed to find him watching her and was so shocked she started to giggle, quickly hastening to turn it into a fake cough.
“What did you talk about?” Hana pried after she saw Pastor Allen to the door. “I feel bad. Allen’s been ringing the Waikato Hospital. He started to think you’d died! I should have told him they moved you. So come on, what did you gossip about? Was it me?” She knew inwardly she shouldn’t ask, but curiosity overcame reason and the question was airborne before she could stop it.
Logan settled a half amused look on her, in the process of flicking through the channels on the television. “Nothing much. Just laying some cards on the table.”
Logan’s answer filled his wife with even more curiosity, which was probably his intention. But it was curiosity that was destined not to be sated, as she daren’t ask him anything else. What got said between a man and a priest was sacred. Damn and blast it. Hana knew their prayers got Logan through the second operation but also recognised her husband saw it as a nicety, a kind but embarrassing thing to do. He would see the skilled hands of the surgeons, but not the generous ones of his Maker guiding them. Unequally yoked. Pulling in different directions.
Hana sighed and slumped back in the armchair, closing her eyes as Logan continued to flick channels. She slipped gently into a sleep of the weary and didn’t rouse as a nurse kindly covered her up in a hospital blanket after doing Logan’s obs.