by Bowes, K T
Hana seated the now subdued little boy back on his seat and pulled a drink of water towards him. She cleaned the sick off the floor with the roll and dumped the pile of mess in the dustbin in the corner. “That better?” she asked and he nodded.
“Luff you, Mama,” Phoenix said generously and patted Hana’s bottom with a crumby hand.
“I luff you too,” Wiremu said, his words echoing into his glass.
“Does your daddy do beedins too?” Phoenix asked him chattily and he shook his head, slopping water down his shirt.
“Oops. Nope. Daddy don’t do that. But Uncle Kane does it.”
The children seemed unconcerned that a grown man steadily haemorrhaged in the corner. Hana’s brow furrowed at Wiri’s offhand revelation that Logan’s half-brother was a haemophiliac. She felt a flicker of guilt.
“You made ‘im bleed once, dint ya, Hana?” Wiremu reminded her helpfully.
“Yes,” Hana replied. “It was very wrong of me and I’m sorry.”
“You slapped ‘is face and kicked ‘is leg. He said you was hot and he’d like to...”
“You should be ashamed of yourself!” Sylvia launched her bile in Hana’s direction, misreading the situation completely. “I’ve a good mind to call the cops!”
“Oh, shut your face!” Hana told her, irritation growing in her breast. “I keep hoping you’ve left, but here you are again.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Sylvia simpered. “I still have feelings for Logan and I know he loves me. Why can’t you just accept it?”
“Just get off me,” Logan said from inside the towel, getting to his feet and towering over the woman. Sylvia took a step back as blood cascaded down from Logan’s nose and splattered onto the floor again. Hana sighed at the mess on the polished floorboards, which seemed to mirror the devastation in her marriage. “What do I have to do or say to make you understand, I’m not interested?” Logan raised his voice and the children fell silent. Phoenix looked instantly sad. In an action of solidarity, the big hearted boy next to her reached across and held her hand tightly. Their grey eyes locked and the child squeezed his cousin’s greasy hand. Hana had a moment of unease as she remembered Logan and Caroline’s relationship, fostered in the same way. She dismissed the unwelcome thought. Wiremu was definitely no Caroline. He was sweet and generous like Nev and adored Phoenix. Sensing the children’s distress, reflecting what came off Logan in waves, Hana moved towards her husband, heartened by the look of gratitude he shot her.
“Excuse me,” Hana said forcefully and pulled the towel from her irritated husband’s face. Blood dripped up her arms and onto her sweatshirt sleeves. “It doesn’t matter,” she told Logan softly as he tried to keep his hand under his nose. “Let’s get your tee shirt off.”
Logan let Hana pull it up from the waist and wrestle it off over his head. Apart from a couple of spots, she managed to salvage it. “I don’t know why you insist on white shirts,” she chastised him, her voice kind. Hana held the soaked and bloody towel back up to his face. “I’ll nip next door and get you another.”
“No like lady,” Phoenix whispered to Wiremu, her brow furrowed. He nodded knowingly and put his slender arm around Phoe’s shoulders, cuddling her close in what looked like an unfortunate headlock. Phoenix didn’t complain, used to Jas’ attempts to ‘army train’ her.
Hana returned with another towel, already grubby from her bloody fingerprints and admired her husband’s gorgeous physique as she walked across the wide dining room. Logan’s muscle definition was borne of hard work on the farm and weight training in the garage at home. He was fit and thick veins stood out along his muscular torso and arms, accentuated by his olive skinned complexion. A thick line of dark hair weaved its way into his jeans along a taut stomach and a gold St Christopher dangled enticingly between his pectoral muscles.
Sylvia ogled shamelessly and Hana felt like slapping her. Logan had turned away from the children and faced the window, his left side towards the women. He moved at the sound of Hana’s footsteps and carefully lowered the soaked towel. “It’s slowing,” he said with relief and smiled wistfully at his wife. Hana saw the uncertainty in his eyes as he sought to make everything right, failing dismally with the presence of the other woman. Sylvia’s existence blighted everything without trying. Hana handed him the towel and Logan lifted his right hand to take it, still holding the dirty one in his other hand. Sylvia gasped audibly as his action revealed the long, ugly scar which ran from under his armpit down his side before disappearing into his jeans and ending on his right hip. It was ridged like a watershed in his skin, the wickedness of his half-brothers exposed in all its hideousness. Sylvia clapped her hand over her mouth and Hana felt horrified at her overtly awful reaction.
The pit-pat of little feet on the floorboards heralded Hana’s daughter bearing a packet of baby wipes. “Here go,” she said sweetly and stood on tippy-toes to hand them over. On her way back to her seat she shoved at the drawer in a large wooden dresser, closing it roughly.
“Thoughtful girl, thank you,” Hana smiled at her daughter and watched anxiously as she scaled the chair on her way back up, grunting as she fought the pretty dress that hindered her progress. “Here,” Hana extracted a wipe for Logan, moving to block Sylvia’s view of his nakedness. He fumbled with it and his face was shrouded and dark. When he looked at Hana she knew he had seen Sylvia’s reaction to his scarred body and was upset. Hana’s expression softened at her husband’s self-consciousness, a muscle twitching in his cheek. She used another wipe to clean blood from around his face and chin. When he stumbled slightly, lightheaded from the blood loss, she kept hold of his forearm until he was safely seated.
Logan leaned forward and squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He looked crushed. “Oh, Loge,” Hana whispered and pulled his head into her, holding him tightly despite the turmoil in her heart. Logan reached around with both arms and clung to his wife, turning his face sideways and closing his eyes against the rough zipper of her sweatshirt. “Poor boy.” Hana kissed his soft, dark curls and laid her head against the top of his.
“Ahhh,” Phoenix said. When Hana peeked at her, she grinned like a maniac and had managed to fit the offensive bread crust over her top lip like a moustache, gluing it on with snot. Hana sighed and heard the sound of feet moving behind her, reminding her that Sylvia was still in the room. Her heart sank.
“How do you feel now, Loge?” Hana asked her husband, stroking his hair back from his forehead. “Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?”
“I’ll go with him,” Sylvia’s voice squeaked from behind Hana. “You stay with the children. He’ll be better off with me.”
Hana’s body twitched involuntarily and her back grew rigid. Logan raised his head. “I don’t need the hospital. I’m just going to lie down.”
“Ok, I’ll help you up to our room,” Sylvia simpered and the heaviness settled back on Hana’s head as the familiar mantra started up again. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t win this fight.
“No thanks,” Logan’s tone was cool, his authority restored. He passed the wipe across the underside of his nose one more time, seeing only a pink streak for his trouble. Satisfied, he rose to his feet and stood up straight, dwarfing both women. “We’ll go to Mike’s room. Come on kids, let’s go upstairs.” He wadded up his various blood-soaked tissues, wipes and the towels and slung them in the rubbish bin on top of the blue roll.
“Plates, Daddy,” Phoenix said, pointing to the mess on the table.
“Leave it,” her father said firmly. “The paid staff can do it or I’ll get it later.” Logan hoisted Phoenix onto his hip and put his arm around his wife’s waist, drawing her into his scarred side. “Come on Wiri,” he said to the little boy, who popped off his seat and immediately latched onto Hana’s other hand.
“But you need peace and quiet,” Sylvia piped up, tugging at the hairy forearm locked around Hana’s waist. “You’d be much better without all these...” the woman wafted her arm, e
ncompassing Logan’s wife, daughter and nephew.
Logan stopped, spun on his heel and fixed his stern grey eyes on Sylvia. “I’d like you to leave my hotel,” he said with determination. “I apologise for what you think I did or didn’t do, but I’m not going to leave Hana for you and I’m not going to abandon my family. There’s nothing between us and never will be.”
“But what about our trip to Auckland together?” she cried, desperation mingling with disappointment and adding a snarl to her voice.
“You can stay for that on Friday and then I want you gone. Ryan can stay long-term if he wants,” Logan said. “But I’ve had enough of your games. This is my family.” Logan’s head jerk took in his girls. “I’ve waited too long to be happy and you don’t get to ruin it. You’ve got until the weekend to find somewhere else to go. Then I want you out. One of the boys will drive you into the city and I don’t want to hear from you again. Thanks for everything you did for Ryan and I’ll try to make it up to him. But I don’t need you, to do that.”
Logan’s hand was strong in the small of Hana’s back as he pushed her towards the door. She felt a sudden release of pressure in her chest, which caught her by surprise, realising in the hallway that she’d held her breath for far too long. It gratified Hana to hear her husband state that he felt nothing for Sylvia. But more than that, Hana knew from the other woman’s reaction to Logan’s scars, she had never seen Logan’s naked body before.
Chapter 22
“Sit down and I’ll take your shoes off.” Hana pushed Logan into a sitting position on Michael’s old bed and he kept his arms tightly around her waist, his face pressed into her stomach. Phoenix tried to clamber onto the bed from the other side and Hana rolled her eyes as Wiremu boosted her capably up and then bounced up after her.
“No,” the small boy said firmly as she bounced on her knees. “Uncle’s not well so you have to be good.”
“I good,” Phoenix said, poked her thumb into her mouth and settled down on the pillow. Wiremu inspected his bare feet for dust and muck and then satisfied, laid down next to her on his back and stared up at the ceiling. Hana smothered a smirk at their unintentional portrayal of the archetypal old married couple.
“If you let me go, I’ll make you a sugary drink.” Hana soothed her husband and stroked his silky hair. “It helps with the blood loss.” She absentmindedly wound one of his dark curls around her middle finger and watched it uncoil itself and dive back onto his head.
“Not letting you go,” Logan muttered, sounding like a little boy.
“Well you need to. You have to lie down and I need to get you a drink to help you recover.”
Logan held her tighter and the child in her stomach did a somersault and kicked Logan in the face. Hana winced and squeezed her eyes shut in discomfort and Logan put his head back and looked at her. “Sorry,” he said, the apology ruined by the wonder in his voice. “Wow. Babies are so amazing.” He ran his fingers softly over Hana’s stomach, feeling the definite contours of a foot protruding just below her navel. “Does that hurt?”
“Yes. Of course it hurts,” she replied impatiently.
Phoenix snuffled on the bed and rubbed her nose, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Wiremu didn’t move his gaze from the ceiling but reached out and patted her on the head. “Sshh,” he breathed and ruffled her hair. Phoenix snuggled in close to his boy body and he popped his own thumb into his mouth and closed his eyes. Logan followed the direction of Hana’s contemplation and his brow knitted at the two small children curled up together on the other side of the huge bed.
“I think the zoo with Alfred and Leslie tired them out,” Hana said. Logan’s head whipped back to face her.
“We just need to be a bit careful with them though,” he said and he looked genuinely concerned.
Hana was immediately irritated, hushing her voice to avoid waking them up but hissing at her husband. “They’re four and not yet two. What do you think they’re likely to get up to, Logan?”
“Fine,” he replied. “But it’s not funny. It’s how this whole mess started. I don’t want him growing up and laying claim to my daughter. We’re breaking that pattern right now.”
“At least she’d know what she was getting into,” Hana mused thoughtfully and Logan narrowed his eyes at her. He pulled her down to sit on his knee. “I get that it’s hard marrying into the Du Roses. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“Fine,” Hana lay her head on Logan’s shoulder. “But can we not be suspicious of babies please?”
“Deal.” Logan held her in his strong arms and kissed Hana’s neck through her hair. “Hey, how many times have I told you how beautiful you are today?” he asked, his voice muffled.
“None,” she sulked. “And you owe me all those days when we were fighting. You didn’t tell me then, even though you promised at our wedding that not a single day would go by when you didn’t.”
“That’s true,” Logan whispered. “I might just combine all the days and do one big show and tell.” He worked his fingers under the side of Hana’s tee shirt and touched the soft skin under her ribs.
Hana shivered. “There’s children present and I’m still cross with you.”
“Pity,” he sighed. “Later then.”
Chapter 23
Hana peered at the photograph, knitting her brow in concentration at what she saw in the digital screen of her phone. They lay on the bed and chatted, the imposing Du Rose men. Logan was half-propped against the pillows, his feet crossed at the ankles and his toes still touching the footboard. Tama lay next to him, his head bowed so that his uncles could talk over the top of him, Wiremu cuddled up on his chest. The young man held his mobile phone over the top of Wiri’s head and watched something on YouTube. His body leaned in towards Ryan and their heads almost touched. They were both about to laugh at something. Nev perched beside Ryan, not relaxed or stretched out but half-sitting with one long leg reaching the floor. His face was turned towards Logan. Nev’s features were frozen in a frown and Logan’s enquiring; a snapshot in time. They had been discussing something to do with the Charolaise herd. They were all alike, identical peas in a pod. Their uniform was the wavy dark hair and piercing grey eyes. Hana saw just by looking that they were brothers and nephews. Ryan’s head was slightly turned away from the camera lens but the likeness was overpowering.
Hana zoomed in and examined something. “I would never have got away with taking a photo like that,” she said to her daughter. “How did they not notice what you were doing?”
Phoenix looked up from her task. She unwound a toilet roll with delicate fingers and settled it gently into a cardboard box for her toy horse to sleep in. It was wasteful, but she had asked so nicely and it seemed essential for her game. “Photo,” Phoenix repeated in her silky voice, busy making her fake straw comfy for Fluffy. She patted it into the corners already aware of how hard it was for a horse to rise from a lying position. Her olive face creased in concentration as she made sure that her companion wouldn’t get cast and die in the night because he couldn’t get up again in the smooth bedding. She had forgotten about the quick snaps she took on her mother’s phone and Hana cheerfully deleted the close up of Logan’s sock and the one the little girl had clambered over Nev to capture; Wiri’s nostrils.
“How can a baby work an iPhone?” Hana mused. “I didn’t even know how to turn the camera on.”
“Camera on!” Suddenly Phoenix was interested.
“No,” Hana said with a decisive edge. “Mummy’s camera.”
“Mama’s camera.” Phoenix held her tiny hand out hopefully. Hana shook her head.
“Another time maybe. Come on, Fluffy needs some tea before bed. He looks hungry.”
Phoenix felt torn. Hana saw her working through the dilemma in her mind and then decide that her horse’s needs were paramount. “Pees carry ‘im?” she asked her mother, pointing to the box. She looked anxious.
Phoenix sat at the centre island on a bar stool and Fluffy balanced
on the one next to her. His furry face poked over the edge of the box, his head at a jaunty angle as it rested on the smooth surface of the work top. A raw carrot sat on a plate in front of him untouched. Hana finished her dinner, reheated shepherd’s pie and moved her plate gently to the side so she could drink her cup of tea. Phoenix spooned the mince and mash into her mouth eagerly. She beamed at Hana with the mixture in her mouth and teeth and Hana smiled and gently suggested she closed her mouth until she had swallowed. “Fuffy eat cawot,” Phoenix told her toy and patted his forehead gently.
Hana slid her phone out of her pocket and peeked at the photo again under the counter. She nagged Logan for reading his emails during mealtimes and felt like a hypocrite. A glance at Phoenix found her nibbling at the carrot. The chance photograph was both revealing and damning. It was a beautiful snap of a family scene and would look amazing as a record of the Du Rose poster boys. Hana would get a copy to Will for the archives. Its unforced naturalness was appealing, but it also caused her heart to clench in pain. It was obvious who Ryan’s father was. The likeness was unmistakable.
“Where Daddy?” Phoenix asked and Hana slipped her phone back into her pocket.
“He’s sorting something out with Uncle Nev,” she replied. “Something important.”
“Daddy no more beeds?” the little girl asked, compassion in her eyes. She put her fingers up to her button nose and winced. “Dat sore.”
Hana smiled. “All gone. Daddy’s all better now.” She wished it were true.
“All better now,” Phoe repeated and beamed happily, her little world faithfully restored. She pointed a delicate finger at her friend, “Fuffy like cawot. Phoe like cawot.”
“I think Fluffy’s full up now. How about you help him out?” Hana suggested and the child gave her a coy look, reaching for the bright orange vegetable without breaking eye contact with her mother. Once it was in her hand she leaned into the horse’s face. “I helpin’,” she whispered and took loud, crunchy bites.