Hana Du Rose

by K T Bowes

  Silence filled the room and Hana heard her heartbeat resound in her ears. All faces turned towards her. Only Jas continued his busyness, choosing sandwiches from the buffet and munching on a cracker. Hana inhaled as Logan spoke. “I just learned that Hana’s never had a birthday party,” he said, looking across at Bodie. “And that it’s not her thing.” Hana gasped and Logan squeezed her fingers. “So I’ll dispense with the singing of Happy Birthday on this occasion and cut to the other reason I’ve brought you from your warm homes to a party in the middle of nowhere.” Logan drew in a breath and his voice carried across the room. “A short while ago, I asked Hana to marry me and she said yes.” He smiled and his grey eyes softened. Hana watched her son’s colour heighten and swallowed, anticipating trouble. Her hand sweated against Logan’s.

  Marcus stepped up to the stage and the gathered crowd gasped in realisation. Logan fell silent and Hana panicked at the spite in Bodie’s eyes. Marcus took over, his tone steady and cajoling, easing the guests into acceptance. “I’d like you all to find a seat,” he said, resting his hands on Hana and Logan’s shoulders and speaking from between them. “And then I’ll invite you to witness the marriage of Hana Singh Johal and Logan Du Rose.”

  Bodie started walking, his heels clicking against the wooden floor. Hana swallowed and saw a hand shoot out to stop him. Alfred Du Rose levered his bent body upright and halted Hana’s son with the look on his face. He leaned close and she saw Bodie pale. “What did he tell him?” she hissed at Logan, her green eyes wild. “What did he say?”

  Logan kissed her cheek and put his lips to her ear. His eyes flashed a warning. “He told him he’s too late,” he whispered. “And he is. Nobody else needs to know that.”

  Marcus waggled his eyebrows and Hana sighed. “I’m here to bless this marriage in the sight of God,” he began and Hana clung to his words. “Logan’s family are catholic but have graciously allowed me to conduct this service.”

  She shot a look sideways at Logan and he smirked. So many things she didn’t know about him.

  Hana sought her children’s faces in the crowd, her heart beating an unhealthy rhythm and making her fight for breath. Bodie bent to wipe sauce from Jas’ shirt, his face unreadable. Izzie stared at her with an intentness that freaked Hana out. She wanted to go to her daughter and reassure her, but needed to stay on the stage with her new husband and do the first thing he’d ever asked of her.

  Marcus proved his worth as a cleric, engaging the shocked guests in his brand of pantomime. Hana cringed as he delivered a marriage service fit for the record books in terms of speed. “These guys are older than nubile sixteen-year-olds but their commitment to each other is undeniable,” he said, pausing for effect. Hana inspected Logan’s black cowboy boots with interest and felt him squeeze her fingers. “Marriage is for life and I’m convinced they both understand.” Marcus spoke for a short time and Hana focused on her breathing pattern, regulating it so the pain in her chest eased. Marcus’ words brought her back to the moment with a bump. “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’s jaw dropped in shock and Hana winced. She daren’t look at her children. “Marcus!” she hissed, watching his lips twist up in a smirk. He fixed a solid hand on her shoulder and pinned her in place. “Hana’s new husband has a few words he wishes to add.” Hana saw her escape route closing and her knees wobbled. She contemplated kicking both men, but figured she’d overbalance and entertain everyone in a way she didn’t want.

  Logan grappled in his trouser pocket next to her and Marcus leaned closer. “Stay here a second longer,” he whispered and Hana groaned. “Behave, woman!” he hissed and winked at her.

  Logan unfolded a piece of paper, smoothing it out on his thigh. Creased into quarters, the edges looked neat. Hana glanced over his shoulder and saw his precise, left-handed script. Logan began with a welcome and his mihimihi. “Tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā tatou katoa.” Hana listened to her husband’s native language tumble eloquently from his full lips, rolling over her like a soft sheet. The paper fluttered at his side, not needed for the familiar detailing of his heritage. “Ko Tainui te waka,” he said, naming the Tainui as the canoe which carried his forebears. He listed the river and mountain of his lineage, the natural landmarks which made him Logan Du Rose. His words strengthened Hana, those parts of him belonging to her by proxy. He spoke his native tongue to her in bed, lilting soft words, intoxicating and ethereal. As warm water, it soothed and refreshed her. Other times he spoke French, knowing it annoyed her British blood. Hana watched Logan’s mouth move, fighting the urge to reach up and kiss his sensitive lips like she did earlier.

  Logan’s grey eyes turned in her direction and Hana jumped and tuned back in. He switched to English and lifted the paper in front of him. His fingers shook and the paper jerked. She wanted to tell him to stop, but couldn’t. “Hana, we met 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 gave up and returned home, there you were.” Logan turned towards her and smiled. “You crawled around the car park on your knees for the contents of your handbag. You lost a lipstick and I lost my heart.” He swallowed and Hana heard the collective titter from the guests. She sensed Bodie’s animosity from across the room and stared at her shoes. “I tried all my best stalker antics to get near you and then one day you just sat next to me.” He turned towards her and lifted their joined hands. “You’ve made me happier than I ever imagined possible.”

  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 with confidence into the silence. “I promise to love and cherish you forever, Hana Du Rose.” He turned to face her and his grey eyes conveyed his seriousness. “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 as a married couple. 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 the unexpected bearing of Logan’s soul. It felt raw and touching and cost him. She saw emotion sparkling in his eyes and gratitude flooded her. She gulped, knowing she couldn’t better his words but wanting to at least match them. “You found me and showed me how much love I still have to give. Thank you for persevering with me.” Hana gave a shy smile. “I know I didn’t make it easy for you.” She bit her lip and heard a snort from Peter North. Henrietta slapped him on the forehead and the sound reverberated around the room. He rubbed it and she whispered her apologies, causing those nearby to smirk.

  “I appreciate your love and faith in me. I’ll never let you down, Logan. That’s my promise to you.”

  Logan blinked in surprised at Hana’s odd undertaking. But he didn’t yet know how deep the broken fragments of her trust were buried. His palms felt warm against her shoulders as he kissed Hana’s lips, dragging the action out with a sparkle in his eyes. Everyone clapped and Hana sighed with relief. A hint of terror surfaced at the thought of approaching Izzie and Bodie and she forced it back. Marcus read her fear as he moved away and answered her distress call. He took a step back onto the stage and whispered into her ear. “Izzie will be fine. It’s me she’s angry at.” He sighed at Hana’s look of confusion. “Because I knew and didn’t tell her,” he said. “I’ll get the hiding, not you.” He smirked and she watched him take heavy steps down to the dance floor.

  Descending from the stage, congratulations swamped the couple and despite their surprise, the guests seemed genuine in their enthusiasm. Izzie punished Marcus by forcing him to carry a heavy, sleeping Elizabeth at the same time as eating his food. Hana watched them from a distance, anxiety distracting her. Bodie kissed Hana’s cheek, his face unreadable. He shook Logan’s hand but the action looked forced. Hana trie
d to work her son out, failing as always.

  Music began in the background and the volume of chatter increased to compensate. Pete monopolised Logan, so Hana moved towards her daughter. Izzie glanced around the room without seeing, twisting her wedding ring in a nervous action. Hana touched her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to shock you, Izz,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.” Her face pinched with fear and she offered her daughter 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?”

  Izzie put her head down and covered her face with her hands. Hana’s heart went into free fall. “I’m sorry, Izz. It’s not how I meant it to be. I owe you an explanation. Sweetheart, look at me.”

  Izzie sniffed and a tear rolled down her olive cheek, diving into midair as another replaced it. Hana led her to a chair, placing the liqueur on the table between them. “Sit down, Izz,” she said, guilt dulling her green eyes. “It’s all my fault.” Hana had promised herself she wouldn’t apologise for her mammoth life choice, hearing her words condemn her as they tumbled out on an automatic loop.

  Izzie sat, the tears coming thicker and faster. Hana moved alongside, enfolding her daughter in a wordless embrace. Alfred turned the main lights to low, creating a nightclub atmosphere. Hana and Izzie found solace in the darkness while he fought the switch for the strobe. Izzie broke away and searched her sleeve for a tissue, groaning at the wet patch on Hana’s shoulder. “I’ve ruined your dress,” she said, her hiccough heralding more tears.

  Hana patted her thigh. “No, you haven’t. It’ll wash. Mop up and tell me how you feel.”

  Marcus walked towards them balancing Elizabeth. He turned away as he saw Izzie struggling with the tissue and Hana frowned at the action. He looked back at her and mouthed something she didn’t catch. She sighed. “I think your husband’s gone for more tissue,” she said. “Or he’s gone to eat something in the toilet. I can’t be certain.”

  Izzie snorted and blew out the fragile remains of the tissue. “I hope he hurries.”

  Hana waited for her daughter to compose herself, licking her lips and running through possible questions and answers. Marcus returned with a whole toilet roll and plopped it in front of Izzie. He sat next to her as Elizabeth grew fractious and wriggly. “Can I have a cuddle?” Hana asked, reaching out.

  Marcus’ face morphed into a grin. “Sure, Hana. Just let me get rid of the baby.”

  “Smart ass!” Hana narrowed her eyes and took Elizabeth, settling her in her lap and kissing the blonde topknot. She breathed in the sweet smell of baby.

  “Hey darlin’, it’ll be ok.” Marcus turned his attention to Izzie and put his arm around her shoulders.

  “I’m not speaking to you!” Izzie snapped, pushing him away. “How could you keep a secret as big as this?” She flapped her arms and Marcus ducked.

  “Mitigating circumstances,” he replied, kissing the side of her face and swiping a wedge of toilet roll for her to mop up with.

  Hana cuddled the baby and waited for the recriminations to start. A glance at Logan found him on the other side of the room, head bowed as he spoke to Alfred. His neat backside looked firm in his expensive suit trousers. Muscular biceps flexed as he patted his father on the shoulder. Izzie inhaled and Hana tensed. “Mum, I’m pregnant.”

  Hana’s concentration snapped back to her daughter, waiting for the unexpected words to filter into her brain. She frowned. “I thought you just said you were pregnant.” Hana smiled, knowing it wasn’t possible. Her gaze flicked across to Marcus. He smirked and Hana sighed. “The vasectomy didn’t work then?”

  Marcus waggled his eyebrows. “You can’t keep a good man down.”

  “Wow.” Hana kissed Elizabeth’s crown. She smirked and Marcus narrowed his eyes.

  “What?”

  Hana shrugged and reached across to take Izzie’s hand. “I bet that’s a conversation I’m glad I missed.” She winked at her daughter and Izzie glared at Marcus.

  “Mum, at no point did he accuse me of cheating.”

  Marcus frowned and his body jerked upright. “It never occurred to me. I missed a golden opportunity to escape.”

  “Good,” Hana replied, warning in her eyes.

  Marcus stroked Izzie’s shoulder and swallowed. Despite the bravado, Hana sensed his fear.

  “Congratulations,” she said, injecting joviality into her voice. “I know Elizabeth’s small and it’s unexpected, but we’ll pray about it.” She watched her daughter’s face and realised her secret wedding hardly touched her. Her own anxieties negated any hostility towards her mother. Hana ached for her. She put on her mothering hat and responded to a different situation than the one she expected when she first sat down. “Let’s explore what you’re afraid of,” she urged, her voice soft. “And we’ll think of some solutions.”

  Hana turned Elizabeth towards her as she listened, pulling funny faces and rejoicing when the child returned her smile in a bonny display of gums. Elizabeth gurgled and beat the air with her tiny fists, leaning backwards into Hana’s palms in jerky, excited movements. Izzie cried some more and Marcus explained her anxieties. “There’s a high risk of another child with disabilities,” he said, his shoulders slumping. He sighed and shook his head. “I feel I’m betraying Elizabeth speaking about her this way.” He pressed his fingers to his eyeballs as though attempting to diminish his emotional pain. “We adore her. She’s perfect to us and exactly the child ordained to be ours.”

  “I know.” Hana’s smile held understanding. “But her needs are demanding. I know how often Izz visits the hospital for routine appointments and how much time it takes. It’s obvious that another pregnancy may compromise her ability to do that.” Hana smiled at her daughter. “You’re an amazing mother, Izz. I’m so proud of you. You’ve taken everything in your stride. Having Elizabeth and then moving south, you’ve done so well. You put your heart into everything and nobody could ask more of you.”

  Izzie sniffed and blew into the tissue again. “I went to an appointment last week so they could test Beth’s hearing and I threw up.” Her wail of misery made Marcus widen his eyes and clutch her closer into his side. Izzie’s eyes ran as she looked across at Hana. “In the doctor’s sink.” She hiccoughed again and Hana melted.

  “Poor girl. You said nothing.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Marcus’ eyes narrowed. “I’m happy to come to the hospital with you.”

  “You work full time,” Izzie complained. She waved her hand. “It’s as though you work two full time jobs in reality. You’re at the church at seven in the morning and I’m lucky if I see you before bedtime.”

  Marcus lowered his head and nodded. He turned to Hana, desperate to explain his neglect. “I’m sorry. Our congregation is older and many of them need home and hospital visits. I’ll try harder to put Izzie first from now on.” He swallowed and Hana saw the guilt in his eyes.

  Izzie nodded. “Any new child to cope with alongside Elizabeth’s demands will be exhausting. The possibility of another baby with Downs is out of range of my ability to imagine, let alone plan for.” Izzie blew her nose again.

  Marcus darted a nervous look at Hana and she contemplated being in his shoes for the last few weeks. She guessed it involved much crying and shouting. His face said he suspected Izzie was cranking up to another round and he didn’t want a public repeat. “Let’s talk about this another time,” he suggested, looking to Hana for backup.

  “That’s a good idea,” she agreed. “Let’s not worry over things we can’t change right this minute.” Hana reached across and clasped her daughter’s wet, writhing hand in hers, infusing her with love and security. “It’ll be ok, Izz. Just as it was before.”

  Hana jumped as Jas plonked his plate on the table next to her. He clambered onto a chair and sat on his knees, pulling a sausage roll apart and popping the pastry into his mouth. In between swallowing, his thumb found its way between his lips and it seemed hard for him to dec
ide which he needed most. Hana’s heart quailed at the complete lack of recognition in Izzie’s face and recognised another situation brewing. It became too late to head it off as the boy turned towards Hana. “Granny, is that my baby too?”

  Hana took a deep breath, concentrating all her energy on the child to avoid looking at Izzie or Marcus. “Yes,” she replied, turning Elizabeth towards him so he could see her better. “Do you like her? Her name’s Elizabeth.”

  Jas popped his thumb in his mouth, watching the baby with interest. He answered like a politician, giving his answer great consideration. “Yes,” he said. “I love her heaps and heaps. It’s my job to look after her forever. We’s cousins. I have a mummy and a daddy now, aye?” He fought a gooey egg sandwich which leaked over his fingers. With a look of disgust, he discarded it onto the tablecloth, “I’m gonna tell Jarad Smith all about my new fambly on Monday when I go back to kindy. He’s got no daddy neither. He’s gonna get jealous.” After another suck of his thumb he leaned his face into Hana’s. “Would it be okay if Jarad shared her?” Jas pointed at Elizabeth. “I don’t want him to stop being my friend, but he ain’t sharin’ my new dad.”

  Hana smiled and nodded, still not getting eye contact with Izzie. Jas seemed oblivious to the chaos he wreaked every time he opened his mouth. Chaos laced with cuteness. “Do you want to see my bestest chicken spot?” he offered, “It’s in my hair. Look.”

  “It’s too dark in here,” Hana said, smirking. “Maybe later?”

  Jas nodded with enthusiasm and picked around on his plate for a while. Bored, he abandoned it in a sea of crumbs and detritus, making a beeline for his mother. He wove across the dance floor like a drunk.

  Hana felt the tension without looking. It hung over their small table like a fog. Marcus smirked but Izzie’s face held savage betrayal. “Seems to be a day for secrets,” she spat. Glancing sideways at her husband, she narrowed her eyes. “I bet you knew, didn’t you?”