Du Rose Sons

by Bowes, K T

  Logan nodded. Hana thought he would resume his seat on the stool in front of her but he didn’t. To her surprise he sat behind her on the bed, forcing her to turn and sit next to him. She peered at him sideways and he turned away, not wanting her to look at him in his weakened state. His chest hitched painfully with sporadic jerks that rocked the bed. Hana’s heart ached and she squashed it back behind the battle lines. “What would you like to sort?” he asked, his voice cowed and broken.

  “I’m not really sure,” Hana’s statement emerged as a sad exhale. “My last husband just had an affair, planned to leave me and died. I’ve never had to break up a marriage before, not with anyone living anyway.” It was a pathetic attempt at humour and caused an ache in her stomach that she wasn’t prepared for. “How does anyone sort this kind of thing out?”

  Logan shook his head. “I don’t know.” Their eyes met and he smiled wistfully. “What a bloody mess.”

  Hana nodded in agreement. The words stuck in her throat but she needed to know. “Will you marry Sylvia, once I’m out of the way?” Somehow his answer would invalidate their marriage and allow her to go back to hating him but instead, Logan looked ashen.

  “Hana, I don’t want Sylvia! I haven’t touched her. She hooked me in because of the boy, but I don’t fancy her. She’s made a play for me, but I haven’t broken my wedding vows and I never would. If we’re done, then I’m done. There’s nobody else for me, you know that. I’ve told you a million times.” Logan punctuated his sentence with an almighty sniff and wiped his nose on his saturated sleeve.

  Hana stared at him and refused to look away. “That’s not what your girlfriend’s saying. Besides, many men have used that line.” Her voice sounded brittle, “I’ve often wondered, if I had just asked Vik outright, ‘Are you having an affair?’ would he have denied it to my face. There’s a whole list of lying, cheating men who have said exactly that, Logan. What makes you think I’ll believe you?”

  “Because I’ve never lied to you.” His grey eyes flashed with injustice and tears had made his dark lashes glisten, black and long like a girl’s. At his reply, Hana snorted and looked away in disbelief. Logan reached across and took her balled fist into his hand. His temperature was hotter than hers; the after effect of his distress and it felt like putting her hand into a flame. “I’ve never lied to you, Hana. I’ve omitted to tell you the truth and I’ve opted not to tell you some things at all. But when you’ve asked me straight, I’ve always told you the truth.”

  “It’s the same thing!” Hana’s face displayed outright disdain in an ugly sneer and Logan recoiled at the aggression in the emerald, flashing eyes. He closed his eyes in acknowledgment of how much hurt his subterfuge had caused.

  He shook his head. “It’s not quite the same thing,” he answered, but he kept hold of her hand. They sat for a while as seconds stretched into minutes. Hana felt her heartbeat aligning with Logan’s at the contact with his skin and it was soporific. She felt exhausted and shifted her body weight, aiming to release the leg she sat on from underneath her. Logan put both hands over hers, increasing the temperature and making her feel overheated and sweaty. “Ask me,” he said and she looked at him with irritation.

  “What? Let go of my hand.”

  “After you ask me. If I’m lying, I promise I’ll let go.”

  “No,” Hana said, dragging her fingers out of his. “I’m no good at detecting liars, Logan. Doesn’t my stupid, gullible life tell you that much?” She walked to the head of the bed and sat back down in her nest of pillows. The bed felt uncomfortably cold, her former nest ruined.

  “Please ask me anyway?” Logan begged and it seemed so pitiful. He wiped his nose on his sleeve again and looked hopeful; a small boy desperate for approval.

  “Fine!” Hana responded crossly. “But you could lie your head off and I wouldn’t know. I’m stupid. Haven’t you worked that out yet?” She pulled the duvet over her legs and lay her head back against the pillows with a sigh. “Have you slept with gorgeous, sylphlike Sylvia, with her perfect hair and never-ending legs?” Hana’s tone was mocking and childish and Logan’s face so earnest and open, she felt a prickle of shame in her chest. She stared doggedly at a greasy mark on the ceiling, fixating on it with all her attention. “There! That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

  “Please look at me, Hana?” Logan’s hushed voice implored her, but she shook her head.

  “No. I’d rather you said nothing at all, than lied to my face. I don’t want the last fibre of respect I have for you to die, like the rest of what I felt.” Hana put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes, telling herself that it didn’t matter what he said.

  Logan moved up the bed and put his hand around Hana’s jaw. He pulled her face down to look at him and his was still open and broken, his grey eyes wide pools of misery which sparkled like the lahar at the top of Mount Ruapehu. He pulled her hands away from her ears and made her listen. “I have not had sex with Sylvia.” The baseness of his words cut into Hana and she winced visibly and tried to pull her head away from her husband’s fathomless eyes. He bit his lip, not done yet. “She’s tried to get me into bed lots of times, especially when you and I argued and you stayed with...Alfred.” He gulped at not being able to call the old man, Dad and instead of cloaking the hurt, Logan allowed Hana to see exactly what the rejection did to him. “She kissed me and we fell out. I take my marriage vows seriously, Hana. I promised you on our wedding day I would never cheat on you and I haven’t. And I won’t.”

  “It won’t be my problem anymore.” Hana’s voice was a whisper and her heart rolled another tear out of the corner of her eye, smashing it on the side of Logan’s hand.

  “Hana, Hana, Hana,” he breathed and gathered her into his arms like a giant, fluffy ball of dressing gown, crushing her body against his. “I love you, so much.” He sniffed and she heard him weeping again, washing him clean from the inside. Tear ducts which had only ever watered because of a sharp wind or a foreign object, shed a waterfall of hurt in a single night.

  Logan curled up on the bed with Hana in his arms and they fell asleep, two severed, pulsing halves of the same smashed heart.

  Chapter 13

  Hana woke with a crick in her neck. The lights in the motel room were on and the television flickered freakily on the menu screen. Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey swirled around the screen in a dance without a finale and the music repeated over and over, waiting for an audience that wouldn’t now come. A wall clock declared that it was two in the morning.

  Hana remained still for a moment, tasting salt in her mouth from her incessant tears earlier and her eyes felt sore and swollen. There was a hard bar across the centre of her back and its presence forced her to shift away from its pressure. Hana pushed herself up to a sitting position, meeting resistance.

  The bar was Logan’s arm and he didn’t want to let her go. Her face remained pressed into his shirt, her nose squashed upwards like a piglet. The ache in Hana’s heart returned and she remembered the torturous dissolution of a marriage she thought she would be in until death.

  It was obvious Logan had hardly slept. Hana’s sleep memory recalled the sensation of his kisses on her temple and the way he smoothed her hair back from her forehead. When he wouldn’t let her past, she circumnavigated him, sliding off the other side of the bed and shutting herself in the bathroom. His face as she left the room looked more defeated than she had ever seen him and the sight of his resignation was more than Hana could bear. She leaned her head on her arms over the sink in the bathroom, and shut her eyes to the sight of her wedding ring, stark against the white porcelain. Despondent, she used the motel’s toothpaste and the brush in the plastic wrapper, feeling her clothes on the rail with shaking fingers and finding them still damp. “For goodness sake!” she complained at the injustice of her life.

  Hana moved the clothes around a bit, folding them differently and rearranging them so that other areas got a chance to touch the heat. She showered and returned to the b
edroom wearing two of the motel’s towels.

  Logan was no longer on the bed. Standing by the dressing table, he fiddled with the car keys in his hand. His eyes were dull and his face impassive. He had regained control somewhere in the lonely hours of the night while Hana slept. His face was that of a man who had accepted his fate. Logan ran his hands through his hair and bit his lip. “I’ll set off now,” he said and tried to smile with kindness at his wife. His jaw worked to stop his face trembling. “I’ll sort out your stuff for you so you don’t have to come back...” His weak composure failed him and his voice broke. Logan raised a shaking hand to his face. “Let me know where you’ll be and I’ll get someone to...I’ll make sure that...” he couldn’t finish his sentence. This wasn’t the Logan Du Rose whom Hana knew. It was as though his mana had been trampled underfoot, emptied out and cruelly smashed. He looked crushed; like...Alfred.

  “Oh, Logan,” Hana sighed out the word and put her hand over her mouth. Again her wedding band flashed with accusation in the harsh, overhead lighting.

  “It’ll be ok,” he said, trying desperately to sound strong for her, but he spoke words he didn’t believe. He looked like a man who would never be ok again.

  Hana heard the awful noise that seemed to be ripped from her soul. If she truly believed she had no emotion left, then she was sorely mistaken. It gripped her in a relentless battle for her sanity and great heaves left her body. She bit into the fabric of the robe, trying to muffle the sound and failing. A fleeting, rational thought made her feel sorry for the other motel guests nearby, but it was shut down before she could distract herself further. She didn’t care. Hana knew she sounded like a heart broken four year old and couldn’t seem to stop. She felt grateful for the strong arms that held her and let her cry, smoothing back her sweaty hair and rubbing her back.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Logan said, over and over, pressing his cheek to hers and letting her tears run down his face and onto his shirt.

  The well in Hana’s heart dried up without warning, just as she suspected it would feed the spring of her tears forever. Her face felt scratchy and horrid, her eyes so puffy she could hardly see and she fell silent abruptly. This is what all cried out feels like. Through her bunged up nose she caught Logan’s musky scent, grass, sunshine and mountain air. She wanted to bottle the essence of him for the long, lonely nights ahead and experienced an urge to be closer to him.

  It didn’t seem enough to be nuzzled into his jacket; Hana needed to feel his soft olive skin under her palms. She knelt up on the bed they had sunk onto, pushing Logan’s jacket off his shoulders without explanation. She attacked his shirt buttons, hearing the material rip underneath those that wouldn’t obey her frantic fingers. Closing her eyes, she smelled the heat coming off him and sighed with contentment, pressing her face close to his neck and remembering him as though she had somehow forgotten. Hana felt Logan’s fingers run underneath her robe, fluttering and sensuous against the small of her back and she placed her lips against his, revelling in the warmth of them and the strong masculinity of his body. Pregnancy hormones, was the last rational thought she had. I’m going to regret this.

  They had never loved like that before. Logan was so different, it filled Hana with an insatiable need for him. He was raw and unguarded and she wanted to savour everything about him, understanding that the portcullis would shut down on her soon and probably take her fingers off in its mechanism. There was no facade, no strong macho Logan, forced to hide who he really was. Their lovemaking was intense, refreshing and completely vulnerable. Logan always made Hana feel desirable, but this time she saw herself as powerful.

  The flaws in their marriage had been exposed and in that painful process, both recognised the blight on their relationship. They had dropped into roles that neither wanted. Logan made all the decisions and Hana acceded, doing as she was told and playing the good wife, just as Vik had taught her. It jarred awkwardly, as Hana tried to wear an outfit she had long since outgrown. She wasn’t that woman anymore.

  “What do you want from me?” she whispered to Logan as their bodies lay tangled together, sweating and tired.

  “Nothing,” he replied, his lips near her ear. “I never asked for anything.”

  Hana pulled herself up onto her elbow and searched his face, raking the darkness with her eyes. “But I gave you everything!” She felt shocked and indignant when she heard the sound of Logan’s hair rustling on the pillow and sensed him shake his head.

  “No, you didn’t. Neither of us did. We only gave each other what we felt they could be trusted with.”

  Hana lay her head down on her husband’s shoulder, thinking about his words.

  “Hana,” Logan’s voice came out of the darkness, husky and low. “Are you frightened of me?”

  She sighed heavily, wanting to deny it. “A bit. Yes.” She felt his breath on her cheek as he faced her.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “You’re scary,” she replied, sounding like a petulant child. “Sometimes you feel more like a father figure or a boss, than my husband. You’re so stern when I tell you things and I feel like I have to always ask your permission.”

  “Is that why you didn’t tell me about the baby?” His voice was laden with sadness and Hana nodded.

  “Partly. A bit of it was embarrassment that I’d got caught again. I feel too old to be having babies. But I also didn’t know how you’d react. Last time you just rode off in a temper and I didn’t understand what I’d done wrong. That’s why I cooked the meal and tried to smooth the way. I kept wanting to tell you, but the words just wouldn’t come out so I made it impossible for myself not to follow through and tell you properly. The meal meant I couldn’t back out. Then Sylvia turned up and it all went wrong.”

  Logan shifted and rested his hand on Hana’s bare hip. A lightning bolt of desire shot through her stomach as his light touch caressed her vulnerable skin. “I’m sorry,” he said, his breath warm on her cheek. “I suppose I became this austere husband because I wanted to keep hold of you. I thought I could do that by making all the decisions and keeping you safe. I wanted you to see that I was strong and capable and didn’t have any weakness in me. I saw Vik that day on the train and he looked like an idiot, sat there wiping at this negligible cut on his eyebrow and ignoring the fact that his pregnant girlfriend cried an ocean in the seat next to him. I thought he was a dick and I never wanted to appear like that with you. I was afraid you would...leave me.” Logan’s voice stilled, emotion catching in his throat in acknowledgement of his failure.

  Hana snuffed into his chest, finally understanding. “But I fell in love with you because of who I saw up on the mountain that day, when we rode to your special place. You were so gorgeous and vulnerable, pulling that huge picnic out of the saddle blanket. Then on the way back down, you saw the development and the access road and a shutter came down over your soul. It made me doubt you even back then. I felt like just hitching a lift back to Hamilton and ignoring you for the rest of my life. I hate it when you do that. You become unreachable and then I feel like I’m in a marriage all by myself. That’s what reminds me of Vik.”

  Logan resumed his gentle stroking motion, his strong fingers moving back and forth over her hip bone. It was ticklish and sensuous at the same time. Logan inhaled a deep breath in Hana’s hair and kissed the top of her head. “Hana, it’s important to me that you believe me about Sylvia. Do you?”

  “I don’t really have a choice, do I?” she replied, a hard edge creeping into her voice. “She told me that you were sleeping with her and spent countless nights in her bed. She can’t prove that you did and you can’t prove that you didn’t. I’m not about to start questioning her about your various body parts or shortcomings, just to see if she’s lying. I don’t have the energy and I really don’t want that conversation.”

  “So where does that leave...us?”

  Hana sighed. “Well, ironically, part of what knocked me sick was the thought of making love to you when you’d
been with her. I couldn’t seem to cope with the thought of it. But we’ve inadvertently done it a few times now and I haven’t thrown up. I don’t know, Loge. I really don’t know. I feel so vulnerable and strange, like we’re balancing on a knife edge and any small upset could throw us one way or the other. I don’t know what to do about anything. I don’t even think I can make a reasonable decision about where I’m going tomorrow - that’s if my clothes ever dry! I think I just need to sleep and do what I want when it comes to it. Whatever happens, I need to be with my daughter tomorrow, wherever that is.”

  “Ok,” Logan sighed and his heart sounded heavy. It was unresolved; his fate still hung in the balance and Hana knew she held all the aces. He had retaken possession of her body, but her mind may still reject him. Hana closed her eyes and breathed in her husband’s smell, trying to imagine a life without it. It would be dreadful. She kissed the downy hair on his chest, pressing it between her lips and tugging gently as she contemplated life alone again. Logan sighed again and sought her chin with his fingers, pulling her face up so he could place his lips gently over hers. He parted her lips and probed with his tongue, seeking out hers for one last dance. His fingers strayed to Hana’s buttock and down the back of her thigh, pulling her into his muscular body with a slow but gentle tug.

  “Logan,” Hana whispered into the darkness and felt his body still. “I wish it had always been like this.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, confusion in his voice.

  “You. Like this,” she replied. “Without the hard shell. Talking about feelings and listening to me. I don’t feel so lonely.” She heard him tut and his lips pressed against hers again, picking up where he left off. He held her tightly and moved over her body, keeping contact with her at every point. Hana felt the sensation of warm water slide down her neck and plop onto the pillow behind her, but when she felt for its tracks, it was gone. Logan sniffed and resumed his kiss but Hana felt the tell-tale tears in her hair, as she loved her husband for what felt like the very first time.