One Heartbeat

by Bowes, K T

  “No, I’d say you’re hurt and angry now,” Allen said with a knowing smirk.

  “I’m not!” Hana bit, sitting up straighter with indignation. “I forgave him years ago. What are you saying; that I have nothing to lose, I’m bitter and twisted anyway so I might as well pile on some more?”

  “No,” the pastor continued, eyeing Hana sideways. “I’m saying it’s sometimes worth giving a sorry, rather than expecting one. At least someone gets one then.”

  Hana looked at him sideways, aghast. “What do I have to be sorry for?” she asked, fury flashing in her green eyes. “I was a child and he was an adult. I needed his help and I got his disgust and dismissal. He was in the wrong, not me!”

  “Fair enough,” said Allen and leaned back against the door, offering no other wisdom.

  Hana’s brain worked overtime. He’d set doubt in her heart and she tried to process it, giving in as he knew she would. “I suppose I shouldn’t have been pregnant and unmarried, I guess,” she conceded. “Mum and Dada taught me better so I could theoretically be sorry for that. They had high hopes for me and I disappointed them.”

  Allen smiled sweetly and turned his head sideways. “How would you have reacted if Izzie came home at eighteen, pregnant and dragging some spotty teenage boy behind her? Just as you thought your job was done and she was settled in her life, doing something worthwhile to make you proud?” He nodded his head towards the baby dozing on Hana’s shoulder. “Or Phoenix? Can you imagine Logan’s reaction? I hardly think he’d be breaking out the champagne. Your husband would be out back loading his gun!”

  Hana shuddered. “Logan would kill whoever touched Phoenix,” she said, pushing the baby’s dark hair back from her forehead and disturbing her. Smoke grey eyes stared back up at her. Her daddy’s eyes. Hana felt confused. She’d always seen the situation from her own viewpoint. The dreadful visit home lasted only as long as it took Robert to clap eyes on her swollen abdomen protruding through her best yellow dress and draw his own conclusions. She didn’t want to think about his pain and disappointment because then she had to take responsibility for causing it. Justifiable anger and self-pity were the crutches she held on to. Because she could. Hana sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Are you saying I got what I deserved?” she asked sadly.

  Allen shook his head. “No, Hana, that’s not what I’m saying! You both lost out, big time. You could have done with your parents’ help so many times. And imagine what they missed out on. I’m guessing the baby was Bodie, in which case they missed out on his entire life and then Izzie’s too. They missed seeing what a great husband Vik grew into and how well you both did for yourselves. There are no winners here Hana, only losers.”

  “Mum died,” Hana said, her eyes beginning to leak. “She passed away a few months later and I never got to explain.”

  Allen put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I don’t have any answers to your pain, sweetheart,” he whispered. “But possibly you do.”

  Hana wiped her eyes on her sleeve and struggled to collect herself. “Logan can’t be too far away now,” she said with a sniff.

  “Why don’t you come back to ours?” Allen asked, his eyes kind.

  “I can’t,” Hana said. “I don’t have the car seat. Logan has it and I don’t know where he is.” She grappled one-handed in the change bag for her phone. The temperature continued to drop as the rain began and her nose felt red and sore. “I’ll ring him.”

  As she pulled out the phone, the Honda screeched around the bend up to the church and skidded to a halt in front of the steps. Logan looked guilty as he piled out of the driver’s side. There was an awkwardness about him and Hana’s radar went on high alert. Tama stayed in the car, trying hard not to catch her eye. “Where did you go?” she asked, instinct telling her they were up to something.

  Logan shrugged. “Nowhere important,” he lied.

  Chapter 5

  Hana hugged the pastor goodbye as Logan loaded Phoenix into her car seat. She stayed quiet on the way home, processing her dark thoughts in the back seat while Logan eyed her nervously in the rear view mirror. He bit his lip, feeling he did that a lot of late.

  Logan drove around the final bend and onto the driveway, slowing as the gates came into view. “What the hell?” The metal runner slid the entrance closed and the motor finished whirring as Logan shot a glance of alarm at Tama. Confused, he wound his window down and listened to the sound of a vehicle labouring up the slope to the house.

  “Who’s that?” Tama hissed and Logan glared and shook his head. He mentally ran through the options, concluding it must be someone with a remote to the gate, or the security number. Those wishing them harm were currently behind bars. Even so, Logan buzzed the gate and climbed the driveway with caution, the Honda’s engine straining against the incline. He nudged Tama.

  “Be ready for trouble at the top,” he whispered, indicating with his eyes he wasn’t joking.

  Tama peered round at Hana. She stared at her hands, worrying at a plaster on her index finger and oblivious to the rising sense of foreboding. At the top of the driveway, Logan heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of Bodie’s police car pulled up on the flats. His stepson knocked on the front door and peered through the side windows, his navy uniform matching the painted porch.

  Logan’s heart pounded with adrenaline as he wound down the window and parked on the slope to the garage. “Hey, bro’, how ya doing?” he called, relief making him more animated than usual. Then he caught sight of the strain in Bodie’s face.

  Another male unwound his tall shape from Bodie’s passenger seat and Logan’s heart sank as Tama swore in disgust. “Odering!”

  Hana emerged from the vehicle, eyeing the tall detective as though he might be dangerous. Their last meeting was less than cordial and she still burned from the man’s single-minded execution of his duty.

  Inside the kitchen, Bodie filled the kettle and flicked the switch.

  “That’s not a good sign,” Hana breathed. “A policeman making tea.” Her mind took her back to the memory of a policewoman making tea in the kitchen at Achilles Rise, having just informed her Vik was dead. “Will I need lots of sugar for my nerves?” she joked, her voice wavering.

  Bodie’s eyes flashed a coded message which Hana felt too rattled to interpret. She saw the detective in her peripheral vision and swallowed anxiety as she gave him a tight smile.

  Tama took the baby into the living room, laying the seat near the hearth rug and poking at the fire with the poker in short jabbing movements. He fantasised about prodding it through the detective’s chest and satisfied himself with adding another log to revive the flames. “Guy’s a dick!” he spat into the empty room.

  Phoenix stayed asleep, her tiny cheeks a healthy pink, dusted by the quivering dark lashes. Tama listened to the rumble of voices in the kitchen and hesitated, wanting a drink but keen not to intrude. “The less time I spend around that jerk, the better!” he decided, pulling the car seat towards him. He settled on the rug and flicked the TV on, becoming engrossed in a Sunday afternoon movie about talking dogs and cats.

  Tension built next door in the kitchen as Bodie fussed over drinks, plonking a teapot on the table and clanking around with cups, milk and sugar. Hana’s nervous anticipation built to a frenzy and sensing it, Logan sat next to her, his arm protectively around her shoulder.

  Odering let Bodie fluff around and then drew his infamous notebook from his inside jacket pocket. With a glance at his junior officer, he opened his lips. “I’ve come to inform you,” he began and Hana winced, holding her breath until she felt ill. “Michel L’Huillier also known as Michael Laval, died yesterday at the secure remand unit of Waitakere Prison.”

  Logan exhaled and Hana shook her head. “No,” she said, “he can’t have.”

  Bodie poured tea into Hana’s favourite china mug and pushed it towards her. She traced a shaking finger along a line of strawberries on its painted surface and felt the heat sting her skin. “No.”
She shook her head with vigour, not comprehending the detective’s announcement. In her head she returned to her kidnapper’s handsome, clean shaven face as he gripped her around the waist and forced her to look at his school photographs. His sixteen-year-old image sat alongside Logan’s boyish, gangly body in the photo. Laval was so vibrant and dangerous. He couldn’t be dead, just like that.

  “How did he die?” Logan asked and Hana tried to run back from the memory of Laval’s flashing, alluring eyes which oozed menace and punished her for his hatred of Logan. She fought to stay in the present, the nightmare threatening to overwhelm her and drag her back into its spiky clutches. Hana struggled, used to the fear running amok at night but not during daylight.

  “This hasn’t been released to the press yet, but he hung himself,” Odering said, eyeing Hana with wary concern. “The post mortem stated he died of self-inflicted injury.”

  Hana held her breath too long and exhaled in a rush. Logan’s brow knitted and without looking, he pulled her closer into his side. “How could he kill himself?” Hana asked, her voice wobbling. “He was in prison; it’s not possible.”

  The detective shrugged. “I don’t know, Hana,” he said, rubbing his eyes in tiredness. He used her first name with a familiar ease which irked Logan and made him stiffen. “It’ll be investigated. It happened in the gymnasium but the coroner will examine the facts.”

  “On the plus side, Mum,” Bodie said, ever the optimist, “you don’t need to give evidence against him. It’s over.”

  Odering gritted his teeth and exhaled. “Yeah and two years’s work are a total waste of time and resources.”

  All eyes turned to the smartly dressed man, who had the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry,” he said, “just venting. Please don’t repeat that. I worked to see justice and now, all that’s a waste. I could’ve taken a hit out on him in the first place and saved a fortune.”

  Logan let out a snort of laughter and raised his eyebrows but Bodie looked shocked. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, realising he was privy to his superior’s unbridled frustration and nothing more. The mood became sombre and conversation died as Hana and Logan digested the news. Their reactions were different.

  Logan felt nothing but relief. There were good reasons why his sister had divorced Laval and Logan promised he would never tell. He’d kept his word for over twenty years, protecting Liza from further emotional destruction, her secret told only to him and her mother. Sickness roiled in his stomach at the thought of Laval touching Hana and a glance at Odering revealed similar sentiments. “I’m not sorry,” Logan declared, his voice sounding loud in the kitchen. “His father pleaded guilty and now he’s gone. I’m glad.”

  “I feel cheated,” the detective sergeant confessed, rubbing his eye with the knuckles of his index finger as his promised promotion dribbled through his hands. “I’ve nothing to show for endless late nights and countless attempts to corner one of Auckland’s nastiest criminals, except a marriage teetering on the brink of disaster and children who look at me wide-eyed, without recognition when I turn up at home.” Odering looked at Logan with a flash of jealousy, resenting his arm around Hana, grounding her.

  Odering shook his head, remembering his first meeting with Logan as a detective. Logan Du Rose was exactly where Odering expected to find him, squaring up to one of his terrified officers because the foolish man dared to disrespect the beautiful, dishevelled woman in the hospital gown. Odering hated to admit it, but he admired Logan. He possessed mana – that inner influence and authority which couldn’t be bought, only born and added to. He’d always had it, even as a teenager much younger than Tama.

  “I couldn’t care less about Laval, L’Huillier, whatever he called himself,” Bodie said into the silence. “It’s a good result and I’m glad we don’t need to waste tax payer’s money putting him on trial, watching him nobble a jury and get off on a technicality.”

  Hana wondered when her son became so cynical, seeing traces of irritation in his stance and attitude. He was on his way home when Odering collared him, insisting he drive him to his mother’s place. Bodie wondered why the detective couldn’t drive himself and bridled, not understanding why Odering repeatedly asked for a traffic cop for lackey duty. Hana’s son flicked at a speck of dust on his uniform trousers and contemplated telling him to get lost next time.

  After a lengthy, awkward silence, the detective finished his drink and stood up to leave, offering a handshake to Logan and Hana. It seemed like the end of an era. “Hopefully,” he said, cheering up, “I can focus on something else, including my poor wife; we three should never meet again.”

  Hana felt offended by his enthusiasm but Logan smirked. Bodie kissed his mother and shook Logan’s hand. “See you at soccer training on Wednesday.” He poked his head around the living room door and saw his baby sister sitting in her car seat watching TV. Tama lay on the hearth rug face down. Bodie felt a stab of irrational jealously at Tama’s parasitic presence in Hana’s home, quelling the thought with surprise at its vehemence.

  Logan shut the front door and leaned against it, his forehead creased in thought. He shook his head to clear it and observed Hana as she collected the cups from the kitchen table. “Thank you, God,” he whispered to himself, knowing the anticipated nightmare in court had consumed his thoughts for more time than he wanted to waste.

  Next morning, Logan left for work on his motorbike while Hana got her stuff together and promised to be at the staff accommodation by lunchtime. “I don’t feel like uprooting myself again, but I will, just for you.”

  Logan kissed her, his lips soft as he ran his hands over the small of her back with a veiled, unspoken promise. “Just for this year,” he breathed into her hair. “We live on the school site during the week and go home on my weekends off.”

  “Yeah, I know,” his wife agreed with a sigh. “But I never promised to like it.”

  Hana moved with deliberate slowness, tidying up, packing their belongings and feeding the baby. Phoenix seemed extra tired and Hana laid her back in the cot to snooze while she worked. Tama showered and while he in the bathroom, Hana stripped his bed and put the sheets to wash, planning to hang them on the line in the garage to dry and pop back mid-week to fold them. She savoured the excuse to return home for a few hours.

  Tama came back from his shower wearing a towel around his waist and Hana turned to leave so he could dress. He slumped on the bare mattress and she noticed his rounded shoulders and the shroud of depression hanging over him. “What time do you need to leave?” she asked, hating goodbyes. “I’ll miss you but you can come home in your next break.” She bit her lip. “Only if you want to though; you’ve probably got friends and other places to be.” Hana gave the teenager a sad smile and turned, rallying herself to deal with the pending loneliness.

  Tama’s shrug caused her to stop and face him. He swiped a hand across his mouth and Hana recognised his signs of distress. “Sweetheart?” she said, her brow knitted in concern. She plonked herself on the bed beside him and waited. She didn’t have to sit long.

  “I don’t want to go back,” Tama gushed. “The college course - it’s just not for me. I’ve tried hard and I get good grades, but it’s not what I want.”

  Hana sighed and pondered the irony; that for the second time in a decade, she was having the same conversation with another young man in her care. This time, she drew on what she learned the first time, when Bodie quit university and joined the police. Her reaction then wasn’t commendable and she allowed the memory to guide her interaction with Tama.

  “Uncle Logan suggested it last year and I thought it sounded cool,” Tama began, nervousness lacing his sentence with halts and stammers. “He paid my fees and it made it easy for me to give it a go. The halls are good, my room’s nice and the work’s easy but...” Tama worried at his thumbnail. “Ma, I’m not interested in soil maintenance, stock health and milk yields. I got ninety percent in my last test; I scored top and my classmates were jealous because they
studied harder. I felt a fraud because I didn’t care, ya know? It was all about impressing Uncle Logan and justifying his faith in me, but I can’t do it anymore. I don’t have the heart and if I stay, I know I’ll screw up through sheer boredom.”

  Tama ran his hand through his dark hair like a small boy. Hana put her arm around him and just for a moment, treated him as such. “I get it,” she sighed, feeling Tama’s relief. “I understand you wanting to please him and ending up pushed down a path for the wrong reasons. He’ll understand.” Hana prayed she hadn’t overestimated Logan’s sense of compassion, aware only she ever got to see it. “We’ll talk to him together tonight,” she offered and saw a tear plop onto Tama’s hands. His fingers writhed in his lap and sweat dribbled down his temple. She kept her arm around the teenager, not wanting to draw attention to his tears and knowing how much the Du Rose men detested displays of emotion.

  “What’s your plan?” she asked him and Tama sat up straighter. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and surprised her with a smile which lit his face.

  “I applied to the fire service and passed all the physical and medical tests. I’ve got a formal interview in Auckland next Friday.”

  “Wow!” Hana replied. “I thought you were just quitting college; I didn’t realise you’d done so much towards sorting yourself out.” She squeezed his muscular shoulder in her tiny hand, “I’m so proud of you, Tama Du Rose.”

  He turned his face towards her and she saw gratitude in his eyes. “You’ve been a lifeline for me,” he whispered. “You make me want to do better, to be better.”

  “It’s mutual,” Hana said, stroking his wet hair away from his face. “There’s a good plan for your life. Ecclesiastes 9, verse 10, ‘Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might.’ You’ll make an awesome fireman, Tama.” Hana frowned at her naughtiness for half quoting scripture. She figured Tama might misunderstand the next part about death and hoped the good Lord didn’t mind too much. She thought He probably would though.