CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Hank wrote another letter to Nana, telling her about baby Samantha, but after that he did his best to throw himself into other things and stop thinking 'what if' and 'if only'. He was done fooling himself and didn't intend to waste any more time dreaming.
He visited Zack again, managing to travel to Denver, spend a few hours with the boy and return the same day now the railway ran through Colorado Springs.
He joined in a posse on a rescue mission to find a kidnapped politician's son and fought with Preston who was determined to have a boxing match with one of the other men in the party, due to a feeling of inferiority to his brothers and father. Hank could relate to that completely and volunteered, convinced he would easily knock the smaller man out with a couple of punches, but much to his annoyance Preston beat him with speed and technique. Preston spent the rest of the day gloating and trying to goad some of the others into fighting him, but all refused.
Another year ended and still Hank remained alone, spending a night with one or other of the girls every so often for company, but otherwise not making any effort to find something more permanent. He continued writing to Nana, telling her Samantha was now a year old and that Myra was working at the bank and his last letter had repercussions which he never imagined.
It was just after Hank's thirty-sixth birthday that he got the biggest shock of his life. He was waiting at the railway station with Melinda and Louisa for the Friday afternoon train from Denver; this particular one often brought businessmen looking for a place to rest for a night on their way south and they frequently accepted a room at the saloon and with it, some entertainment.
The train pulled in right on time and Hank watched for likely men disembarking, ready to go and offer his and the girls' services, but what caught his eye was an elderly lady climbing carefully down from the end of the carriage. Sully was standing right in front of her and she approached him at once.
"Young man, please to tell me where to find Hans Lausenstrom. He is town tailor."
Sully looked back at her, bewildered and Hank's mouth fell open. Nana! Instantly he was filled with panic. What was she doing in Colorado Springs? She thought he was a tailor, married to Myra, with a baby daughter. All the lies he'd told her in his letters filled his head and his first instinct was to hide. Avoid her at all costs and hope she gave up looking for him and went away again without discovering what a lying, good for nothing failure her grandson was. He fled, galloping off to the saloon as fast as his legs would carry him.
He lurked there behind the swing doors, peering out as Nana eventually appeared and went to speak to Loren at his store, apparently asking where she could find Hans. Hank's heart thumped wildly and he broke out in a sweat as he realised he couldn't keep hiding from her. She'd come all this way to see him after so many years; there was no way he could let her leave Colorado Springs without seeing him. He racked his brains for a way around the problem and decided, however foolish it might be, to try and convince Myra to help him. Conveniently forgetting about Horace, he slunk out of the saloon and hurried along to the bank. Myra worked from ten until three and it was just coming up to three now. As he approached she stepped out of the building and locked the door.
"Myra!" he panted.
"Sorry, Hank, I'm just closin'," she said, turning around.
"I gotta talk to you now!" he exclaimed.
"Well, ya'll just have to..." began Myra, her voice cut off suddenly as he reached out, grasped her by the waist and swung her off the porch to the ground in front of him. Much to his surprise, her reaction was to squeal and giggle. In any other circumstances he would have welcomed it and teased her.
"Myra!" he said urgently. "Would ya be my wife?" He cringed immediately the words were out of his mouth. He hadn't meant to say it like that and as Myra's smile slipped and her eyes popped wide open in shock, he let go of her quickly and took a step back. "I...I mean..." he stammered.
"Hank what're ya playin' at?" Myra said with a slight frown.
"Ya gotta help me," he said with a sigh. "My Nana's here."
"Isn't that good?"
"No! Yes. Look, she thinks I'm more than I am. Better than I am. I didn't want her to be ashamed of me, to know I run a saloon. She thinks I'm the town tailor and that we're married," he babbled.
"Married? Ya mean you and me? How'd she come to that conclusion, Hank?" Myra's frown deepened.
"I told her..."
"I thought ya hadn't seen her for years?"
"I haven't! I wrote..."
"Ya said ya don't know how to read and write," she reminded him.
"Myra, please!" he begged. "Never mind that. Ya gotta help me. Ya gotta pretend to be my wife till I can get her back on the train outta here!"
"Don't ya think it'd be better to tell her the truth?"
"And have her look at me like everyone else in my family always did? Like a failure?" His heart sank. She wasn't going to do it.
"Oh, Hank, why'd ya tell her yer married to me?" Myra sighed.
"I couldn't think of anybody else."
Her lips twitched into a slight smile now. "Ya know I'll help ya if I can, but Horace ain't gonna like this," she said. "In fact, I know he won't agree to it."
"We gotta try," Hank said, relaxing marginally. "Where is he?"
"At Grace's with Samantha. I'm goin' there now to meet him."
"Let's go!" Hank grasped her arm and began to hurry her along the street, glancing left and right as they went in the hopes they wouldn't run into Nana before they spoke to Horace. They reached the cafe without seeing her, but much to Hank's dismay, Loren and Jake were sitting at the table with Horace and he realised half the town were going to find out what a fool he was before too much longer.
Myra sat down at the table and briefly explained what Hank wanted while he hovered anxiously and fidgeted. Loren and Jake's eyebrows rose steadily towards their hairlines as they listened in, smirking and nudging each other.
"No! Absolutely not!" was Horace's immediate response.
"I'm only askin' a few hours," said Hank.
"You can't just go borrowin' a family," Horace said.
"Horace, just let him explain," Myra put in.
Hank explained further, that Nana had been told he had a wife and child, that he was respectable, while everyone grinned and scoffed and Horace's scowl steadily deepened. Hank, growing increasingly desperate, finished up by offering Horace money and begging. It was apparent that he was still going to say no, but had no chance to open his mouth before Nana suddenly appeared and threw her arms around Hank in delight.
"Hans! My little Hans!" she cried as Hank, towering more than a foot above her, lifted her off her feet in a hug.
The group at the table watched, speechless, as Nana cooed over Hank and then turned to Samantha in her pram and finally Myra. Hank only hoped Horace wasn't going to suddenly decide to speak up at that moment, but luckily he remained silent. It was Myra who put her foot in it when Nana asked to see the tailors shop. Trying to save Hank, she announced he had given it up in favour of running the telegraph office. Hank glanced at her in shock and Horace ground his teeth furiously.
Hank, desperate to get Nana away from the others before one of them gave him away, drew her away from the table, but much to his horror, she subsided into his arms in a faint. He carried her to the clinic quickly, accompanied by everyone else, Horace complaining constantly about the situation he had been put in.
Nana recovered quickly from her faint and Michaela allowed her to use one of the recovery rooms at the clinic to stay in during her visit. Hank stayed too, anxious to keep an eye on her and even more anxious that she not see him disappear into the saloon for the night.
In the morning he left early under the pretense of going to work at the telegraph office. Horace had apparently been convinced by Myra to carry on the charade and gave Hank instructions before stalking off to the saloon. Shortly after, Nana appeared to see Hank at work before telling him she planned to returned to Norway to see her old village, seemingly with no intention of coming back. She had wanted to see him one last time before leaving and now decided to spend the weekend with him and leave on Monday.
He took her to church on Sunday, the first time he had been in the place with the exception of Myra's wedding, but as they made to leave, once again Nana passed out and had to be taken back to the clinic. Michaela didn't seem to know exactly what was wrong with her although she reported an irregular heartbeat and Nana now confessed she had been having fainting episodes for some months.
Hank worried more and more, not convinced she was getting the right treatment, although within half an hour of her collapse she seemed perfectly well again. He took her, Myra and Samantha for a buggy ride, much to Horace's annoyance and it was clear he wasn't going to put up with the situation much longer, especially when that evening Nana insisted she would be fine at the clinic alone and that Hank should go on home with his wife and baby.
Hank grasped Myra's hand as they walked away from her towards the telegraph office, thinking ironically that if he wasn't so worried about Nana being ill and in addition, dreading her finding out the truth about him, he would have enjoyed imagining Myra and Samantha were his.
Now he took the little girl from Myra and sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing her on his lap while Myra prepared the cot. After a minute Myra sat down beside him and took Samantha into her own arms.
"You're so good with her, Hank," she said.
He smiled, beginning to relax a little at last and they chatted for a few minutes until a loud banging came on the bedroom window, followed by Horace climbing through, his expression irate.
"Get outta here, Hank, right now!" he ordered, picking up Hank's coat from the chair where he had dropped it and throwing it at him. "I said get out!" he repeated.
Hank exited quickly through the window, jumping down to the street, disappointed that those few moments were over. He heard Myra and Horace begin to yell at each other as he made his way across to the saloon, but much to his alarm saw Nana out walking. He accompanied her a little, but when she fainted yet again he took her back to the clinic, sending Matthew off to the homestead to fetch Michaela. He sat waiting with Nana, worrying that something serious was wrong, sure that Michaela had no idea what she was doing on this occasion. However, since Nana rapidly recovered again, there wasn't really a lot he could do other than encourage her to see another doctor back in Denver.
In the morning he went over to the telegraph office again to pretend to work, but Horace blocked his way, refusing to go along with the lies any longer and suggesting Hank try being honest with Nana if he had the guts. For once Hank had to admit that the other man was right. He couldn't keep on lying. All he was doing was tying himself in knots trying to keep one step ahead of her finding out and it seemed she was intending to stay around for another day or two yet. He only hoped somehow she would understand and forgive him.
He found her at the cafe, sitting alone with a cup of coffee. He dropped onto a seat next to her and blurted it all out in one breath before he lost his courage.
"I don't run the telegraph office, never been a tailor, ain't married to Myra neither. I own the town...saloon. I told you all them things so ya wouldn't have to be ashamed of yer grandson. Didn't think I was hurtin' nothin'; never figured on ya comin' to visit."
He looked at her hopefully, waiting for her to scold or express disappointment, but all she did was smile and take hold of his hand.
"Is good to know truth," she said softly. "I should have told truth, about fainting."
Hank relaxed in an instant, every bit of tension seeping out of him as he squeezed her hand. She wasn't ashamed! After all the lies he'd told and now finding out he was a saloon-keeper, she still didn't think less of him. And there was one other thing that might yet make her proud.
"Nana, I got a son," he said. "He lives at a special school, draws real good pictures. Havin' Zack is the only thing I ever done that amounted to somethin' important."
Nana beamed from ear to ear. "Your great uncle, my brother Gustav in Norway, he is artist!"
"Yeah? Guess it's in the family," Hank smiled.
Suddenly the last few days of sneaking around and lying seemed so pointless and he wished he'd had the courage to tell her the truth from the beginning. She wasn't disappointed and she was looking at him with love in her eyes, the same way she always had when he was a little boy.
As they sat at the table Michaela walked over, or waddled, huge now as she awaited the birth of her own baby. She had obtained advice from a colleague and suggested Nana visit a specialist in St Louis who could help her. There was a train that afternoon which would get her there in less than two days and she agreed to go.
Hank reluctantly went to see her off later, wanting to go with her, but she had already refused his offer, insisting she go alone and then continue on to New York where she would take a boat to Norway to spend her last few years in her old village.
He couldn't hold back his tears as he helped her up into the carriage and gave her the last drawing Zack had given him to take with her. He knew it was unlikely he would ever see her again, or even be able to write to her and saying goodbye to her seemed like the hardest thing he'd ever done; harder even than saying goodbye to Clarice or going to Myra's wedding.
As he gave her one last hug and drew away, he noticed both Horace and Myra watching from different areas of the platform, Myra with sorrow and sympathy and Horace with a scowl. He ignored both, brushed away the tears and pulled himself together again, swallowing another wave of pain the same as he always did and getting on with things.