Found (Not Quite a Billionaire Book 3) (7 page)

Hemi

Saturday morning, and we were all at the hospital again. I’d risen while Hope had slept and gone for a long run to clear my head and regain my optimism and fill my lungs with the clean air and endless space of my homeland. Hope and I still hadn’t talked, and I still hadn’t even kissed her, but things were easing between us already. Once we had a chance to work it out, they’d be that much easier. That much better.

You couldn’t love somebody this much and not have it work out. It wasn’t possible. Not even for me.

Koro was a bit brighter this morning. Auntie Flora was with him, and he was watching the morning news and talking back to the set. Looking more like himself.

“Right,” he said when we appeared, clicking the program off with a snort of disgust. “You can go on, Flora, now I’ve got these three. Too big a crowd.”

“I’m happy to stay,” she said. “Morning, Hemi.”

“Too early for the deathbed scene,” he said. “All I have is a sore shoulder and a bit of an ache in my head. No help for that but time, and time’s what I’ve got heaps of. You don’t. You need to go to work.”

She got up, kissed his cheek, and said, “See you tonight, then,” then gave me my own kiss and cuddle. I was back with the whanau, and that was good.

When she’d gone, Koro said, “She chats too much. And I need to get out of here. Nurses in and out every five minutes, so I can’t get a wink of sleep. Old men need their own beds. The doctor says tomorrow. Why not today? I’m ready, I can tell you that.”

I said, “You’ll need someone with you when you go home, you know, with your arm in a sling and you dizzy and all. The doctor told me about that, so there’s no use denying it. We can’t have you falling again.”

He glared at me, and I said, “Besides, who’s going to plant your garden? September’s only a few weeks away, and the doctor’s telling me six weeks for the arm, and probably that long for the head, too.”

“Tane and the kids will do it,” he said. “You know they will. You won’t get me like that.”

“Will they come weed it the way you want it?” I asked. “Water it?”

He closed his eyes again. “You talk too much as well. You never used to do that.”

Hope was laughing and bending down to give Koro her own kiss, and he opened his eyes and said, “You’re all right. You can stay.”

It was all going better, you see. Until my dad walked into the room.

I hadn’t seen him for nearly four years. I didn’t want to see him now. He smiled at me, showing off a newly missing tooth at the side of his mouth, and his bleary eyes filled with tears. His once-powerful frame looked shriveled to sinew, and he appeared nearly as old as Koro, though he was barely sixty.

“My son,” he said. “Hemi.”

“Dad.” I didn’t move, and somehow, Hope was beside me, sliding her hand into mine. I held it like a lifeline. I didn’t want to need it, but I did.

Koro said, “Good you’ve come, Daniel.”

“How you goin’, Dad?” He came forward, then, and bent to give Koro a hug. I wondered how strong the vodka would be on him. He drank it not because he liked it best, but because he thought nobody could smell it, and nobody would be able to tell. He was wrong. We could all tell. Every employer he’d ever had had been able to tell, too, which was why he’d never held a job longer than a year. He’d start out full of good intentions, and then he’d fail. Always.

“I’m better every day,” Koro said. “Don’t know why I’m still in here, but it’s good to see you.”

“I’d have been here sooner,” my dad said, “but I couldn’t get time off work.”

“Too many people in this room,” Koro said. “Too hard to focus. Karen can stay. The rest of you go and have a chat.”

“I just got here,” my father said.

“Yeh, and I’ll see you again,” Koro said. “But not just now. Go talk to your son. Go meet Hope.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. I said, “We’ll have a coffee, then,” and walked out of the room, still holding Hope’s hand, while my dad trailed after. I could tell that Hope was looking up into my face, but I didn’t look at her. Instead, I found the cafeteria, ordered a coffee for me, one with extra sugar for my dad, and a cup of herbal tea for Hope, and we went and sat down in front of a window with a view of a courtyard filled with fern trees and low-growing vegetation. Shades of green, meant to be soothing, but it was going to take more than that.

I was nearly vibrating with tension, so I took three long, slow breaths in and out, the way I’d learned to do long ago. I didn’t have Hope’s hand anymore, but she was sitting so close, her side was nearly touching mine. Her left hand was on the table beside me, and my ring was still on her finger, shining out a promise I was going to keep. No matter what, because I kept my promises. That was the difference between me and my father. One of them.

Get through it,
I told myself, and said to my dad, “This is Hope Sinclair. My fiancée. This is my dad. Daniel Te Mana.”

“Heard you were having some trouble with that,” my dad said. “Not divorced from Anika after all.”

“That’s true.” I kept my voice measured. I was controlled. I was calm. “But I will be soon enough. It’s only a matter of weeks.”

“After your money as well, I hear,” he continued. “Pity.”

“Never mind,” I said. “She won’t get it.”

“What a first-class bitch she was, eh. Still is, I reckon. Marry a woman like your mum, they say. Ha. You did that, all right, and you’re still paying the price, just like I did. Hope you’ve done better this time.”

Another breath in and out, and Hope had hold of my hand now. “I have,” I said. “And I’m not here to talk about my mum. Or Anika.”

The coffees came, and we sipped them for a minute while I kept my control, wrapping it tight and close around me. Finally, Hope said, “I’ve wanted to meet Hemi’s parents. You must be very proud of him. He’s pretty special, isn’t he?” As if she hadn’t heard any of the rest of it, or as if it didn’t matter.

“He’s done well,” my dad said. “I’d have come to meet you sooner if I’d known about you. As it was, I’m the last to know. Had to hear it through Flora instead, just like I heard about Dad. I’d have turned up sooner this time, too, like I said, but I finally found a new job a couple months ago, after everybody else told me no, no matter how much experience I had. At least he took me on, though he’s a hard man, gives me the dirtiest work. Panelbeaters. Not too good, but all I could get, just because of a couple of mistakes.”

“Car repair,” I told Hope. “Body shop.”

“Yeh,” my dad said. “Better than the mattress factory, though. So you see, it all worked out well in the end. All for the best. I’m on the road up now.”

“Are you sober?” I asked, and his head snapped back, the anger flashing in his eyes for just a moment. The anger he’d shown so often when I’d been a kid, and not since. Not since I’d had money.

“Yeh,” he said. “Have been since I got out of the program. Six months now. I’ve started again.”

I’d believed that too many times already, and been disappointed every time, until I’d stopped believing. It hurt too much to have the belief shattered, and I couldn’t afford to hurt that way. Not ever again.

My dad told Hope, “Hemi paid for the program. Four months inside, getting sober. He doesn’t think I’ve been such a good dad to him, maybe, doesn’t understand how life can knock you down, but he paid anyway. At least there’s that.”

“That’s good,” she said.

“He’s a good man,” my dad said, and I tried not to let myself hear that, tried to remember why he’d be saying it.

“Where are you living?” I asked.

“Got a room in Onehunga. Car’s still running as well, but it’s not too flash.”

“No,” I said.

“Haven’t even asked, have I.”

I stood up fast, and after a second, Hope scrambled up to join me. “You don’t have to,” I said. “I can hear it coming down the pike. I’m glad you’re sober, if it’s true, but the answer’s still no. I’ve paid enough. I’m done paying.”

I would never be done paying.

Hope

I walked out with Hemi, and he didn’t say anything, and I didn’t ask. I held his hand as he headed back toward his grandfather’s room, and finally, he said, “Sorry.”

“No,” I said. “Don’t be sorry. Hey,
my
dad never even came back again. I’ll bet he’d be there in a heartbeat if I had hundreds of millions of dollars, though.”

“You
will
have hundreds of millions of dollars. And if he turns up, I’ll be there to help you deal with him. Thanks for that. Who knows what you must’ve thought.”

He said the last part fast, like he didn’t mean it, and I knew that was because he’d meant it too much. I squeezed his hand and tried to send all my belief through it. “Thanks for letting me hear it. I have the feeling you’re ashamed, but you have
nothing
to be ashamed of. You’re even more amazing than I knew, do you realize that? You give so much, even when nobody could expect it of you, even if nobody will ever find out. You think you’re hard, but you’re so . . . so decent underneath, Hemi. And so you set limits. So you cut him off when he tried to go somewhere you couldn’t stand to go. That was the right thing to do, and it made you look even stronger to me.”

He stopped where he was, in the middle of an echoing corridor, and looked at me. His face would have seemed as inscrutable as ever to somebody else, but I saw his eyes, and he couldn’t hide from me. “I hated you hearing that,” he said, “and I would have said I didn’t want you to, but could be I was wrong.”

“Hey,” I teased gently, “I got the ‘w’ word and everything. And if I helped, I’m glad.”

“Wait till you meet my mother,” he said, and started walking again. “She
won’t
be sober. I’ll have to invite them both to the wedding, and I’ll have to chuck at least one of them out.”

“And if you do,” I said, “I’ll just be that much more impressed.”

Hemi

Back in Koro’s room, Karen was reading aloud, and Koro had his eyes closed.

“Don’t stop,” he said when she trailed off at sight of us. “I want to hear what happens.”

“Harry Potter,” Karen informed us, and I laughed despite my still-turbulent emotions.

My dad. And Hope. And Koro. It was all too much.

“Don’t laugh,” Karen said. “Have you ever read it?”