Du Rose Sons

by Bowes, K T

  Sacha hung her head and looked down at the ground. Hana stroked the rough hair on the wide cheek and laid her forehead against the mare’s. “I’m talking to you as though you understand,” Hana sighed. “But you probably don’t. If by some small miracle you know exactly what I’m saying, then please behave up here, Sacha?”

  The mare snuffed at Hana’s hand and licked at the remaining scent of the apple. She sighed wetly and Hana kissed the hard bone of her long nose. “Come on.” Pushing the gate open, woman and horse squeezed past the abandoned quad bike and stepped off the black tarmac and onto the lush grass. Sacha’s head went down immediately and Hana pushed the gate closed behind her with her foot. Hana’s stomach got in the way and she bent down to unclip the lead rope, before walking towards the house, retrieving her door keys from her pocket. Sacha munched happily behind her, eyes closed in ecstasy as she ripped long lengths of grass from the ground. Rawhiti peered down at Hana from the apex roof overhanging the front door.

  “Why did you just let her go?” Incredulity laced his voice. “She’s a bitch. She chased me!”

  “No she didn’t,” Hana replied, tiredness overwhelming her as the door handle turned under her fingers. “She was playing with you. I’ve told her off.”

  “Playing?” Rawhiti’s voice went up a few octaves. “She wanted to kill me!”

  “Rawhiti!” Hana stepped backwards so that she could see the young man’s face. Exhaustion made her tone sharper than she intended. “I’ve seen her herd cattle. She could have passed you and faced you down in a heartbeat. She jogged up the road behind you. It looked ridiculous!”

  The young man looked ashamed for a moment and then leaned forward, his face level with the expensive spouting under the overhang. “Mrs Du Rose? I don’t suppose you’ve got a ladder?”

  After a great deal of hassle, Hana extracted the ladders from the garage and set them against the edge of the tiles, abandoning the infuriating stable lad when he looked secure enough not to kill himself. Hana sank into a kitchen chair and raised her bare feet onto another, listening to the sound of the kettle hissing behind her. Sacha moved slowly around the outside of the house, raising her head occasionally to chew and observe her surroundings. The long windows near the seating area framed the dappled white body, the regal Arab tail and proud head mixed with the strength of an Appaloosa and the cunning of a quarter horse.

  “I put the ladder back in the garage.” Rawhiti’s voice broke through Hana’s tiredness and she nodded. “I hung it up where you said.”

  “How on earth did you manage to get up there?” she queried and Rawhiti looked embarrassed.

  “Probably ‘cause I was shi...scared.” He bit his lip. “Did you know that a terrified man could scale a ten foot wall without equipment?”

  “Well, it’s a great pity that a terrified man couldn’t come back down again, isn’t it?” Hana rubbed at the base of her back, which ached after carting the ladders around the front of the house. She sensed the young man’s need for forgiveness and forced a smile onto her lips that resembled a grimace. “Please could you make a pot of tea?” Hana indicated the kettle as it clicked off the boil and he shuffled over in his socks to oblige. “There’s a glass jug with salt in the bottom. Please could you pour some water into that? I’ll use it to bathe Sacha’s cut. It’s still oozing.”

  Rawhiti plonked the chipped brown teapot on the table and went back for the tray containing cups, milk and sugar. He hovered next to Hana, unsure of whether he should sit or not. “Sit and have tea.” She smiled, working it into something less horrific and managing a half decent expression of welcome. “Or if you’d rather, there’s ice and juice in the fridge.”

  Reassured, Rawhiti rifled around in the fridge and produced a carton of orange. He had fun working the ice dispenser on the front of the stainless steel refrigerator and Hana hid her smirk. She would wipe up the splashes later. He returned to the table with a glass packed with ice cubes. “That’s more ice than juice,” Hana laughed and he grinned.

  “That thing’s fun!” he replied.

  “I’ll go back out to Sacha when the water’s cooled,” Hana said, raising her hand at the immediate protest on Rawhiti’s face. “You don’t have to help me. I’ll be fine.”

  Eager to change the subject, the young man pointed to Hana’s belly. “When’s your baby due?”

  “Not for ages yet.” Hana poured herself tea and sipped the hot liquid, wincing as it burned her tongue but desperate for the refreshment. “I’m not sure why I feel so knackered.”

  “Were you real sick and stuff?” Rawhiti seemed interested, unless he was a good actor.

  “No, I wasn’t this time. I was with Phoe and it went on for months. I obviously carry boys better, because I was fine with Bo and terrible with Izzie. I threw up a couple of times, but I felt fine. Mind you, with Phoe I kept fainting too, so this baby’s been way easier.”

  “Fainting?” Rawhiti looked nervous.

  Hana laughed, unable to mask her mirth at his discomfort. “I had a heart condition and didn’t realise. The pregnancy messed with my heart - increased blood flow and the demands on my old body.” She patted the pacemaker over her left rib and smiled, trying to offer reassurance. “I’m fine now. I’ve only fainted once and that was...” Hana’s voice trailed off at the memory of her awful showdown with Logan. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “I don’t know CPR. I’m crap at first aid!” Rawhiti’s eyes bugged with terror.

  “Then I promise not to die anywhere near you,” Hana offered.

  Her guest looked nervous still and sipped his drink, bashing himself in the nose with all the ice cubes and getting very little liquid.

  “Do you think Logan will shoot Sacha himself?” Rawhiti slurped at his drink without elegance.

  “No. She’s his favourite and she’s just taken offence at something. He’ll train it out of her. She’ll be fine. I’ll keep her up here for a few days until her leg heals and then we’ll see what’s going on.”

  “She’ll be an excellent guard dog,” Rawhiti commented, rubbing a stray ice crystal out of his eye. “She’s obviously got a thing about you.”

  Hana bit her lip and observed the feisty mare, pulling grass and wandering the property without a care in the world. A beautiful smile lit her face as the realisation dawned. Hana beamed at Rawhiti. “You’re right, she will. Nobody will dare come onto the property with her around.”

  Sacha stood like the meekest of riding school hacks, while Hana huffed and puffed over her distended belly and attempted to clean the wound on the mare’s leg. “I forgot how hard it was to bend down,” she said, standing upright with a red face.

  “Want me to do it?” Rawhiti sat on the top of the gate, holding out the jug of salt water in one hand and the bag of cotton wool balls in the other. His buttocks clenched and relaxed as he fought to balance on the thin metal rung.

  “Na, this looks clean now.” Hana scooped up the pile of used, fluffy balls on the ground next to her and then washed her fingers in the left over water. It felt warm and gritty. She seized the tub of manuka honey from the ground next to her and unscrewed the lid. “This is the good stuff, no expense spared on you, girlie.” Hana dipped her finger into the creamy, tan honey and handed the pot to Rawhiti. He juggled with his other items and screwed the lid back on, watching as Hana smeared honey into the long gash on Sacha’s front leg. The mare snuffed at Hana’s hair and kept her eyes closed, looking relaxed. Hana managed to avoid banging her head on the underside of the huge face as she stood up, puffing with the effort. “It’s not hot enough for that to melt and run off, so it should reduce any inflammation and stop infection. I can’t see any more splinters so I must have got them all out down at the stable yard. Time will tell.”

  “You must love her if you’re spreading twenty bucks’ worth of honey on her miserable, rotten leg,” Rawhiti commented and Sacha opened her blue eye and stared at him with a sentiment that made the man cringe.

  “I do love her,�
� Hana said and patted the broad forehead. “And so does my husband, so that makes it worth it to me.”

  “She’ll get the shits if you let her have the whole section,” Rawhiti commented, waving the jug so that the water slopped onto his jeans. He pulled a face and dabbed at it with the side of his hand.

  Hana looked around the huge expanse of grass, left over from the hot summer. “Yeah. The cows weren’t really here long enough to make a dent in it. I’ll get Logan to bring up some standards and tape and we’ll break feed her for a couple of days.”

  “What about water?” Rawhiti swatted at an imaginary fly and spilled the rest of the salt water.

  “There’s a stream that runs down the side of the house. She knows where it is. I’ll leave her for now and Logan can sort out buckets later if he wants to fence her away from it.”

  “True. Can we go now?” Rawhiti held out the jug, cotton wool bag and honey towards Hana.

  She took it and rolled her eyes, replacing the items in the house and locking up after her.

  Down at the hotel, Hana sought her husband. After several false starts, she found him in the equipment shed, looking for something in a cupboard near the darkened rear. His eyes showed tiredness, their grey diminished against pin-prick pupils and a layer of dust filmed his face and body. “Hey, gorgeous.” Logan reached for his wife and pulled her in close. His stubble scratched her chin in the kiss and his lips felt dry and gritty. It would have bothered Hana once, clad in her stiletto heels and pristine suits. But the twists and turns of life had changed her outlook and she clung to her husband’s strong frame with eagerness, ignoring the dirt that tumbled from his clothes to hers.

  “I took Sacha home and bathed her cut,” Hana said, peering into the cupboard. A shadow board with tools stared blankly back at her, most of the slots occupied.

  “Oh, thanks babe.” Logan’s interest turned wholly onto his wife, his errand forgotten. “I had to leave her. I felt bad but everyone was mounted up waiting. I don’t know what’s wrong with her at the moment. Jack had a rant when we got back. He wants me to put her down. He’s had enough.” His eyes filled with sadness and Logan ran a dirty hand over the skin above his mouth, giving himself a black moustache. “I dunno what to do.” The scar underneath his right eye twitched and Hana reached up and stroked away one of her husband’s stress-tells.

  “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “She’s happy for now.”

  “I love you, so much.” Logan’s breath tickled Hana’s face, the faint scent of his familiar spearmint gum wafting over her like a comforting, warm blanket. His body relaxed as relief seized him. She smoothed her hands across the dusty skin of his cheek and stretched up for another kiss. He inhaled and ran his fingers across the base of Hana’s spine, her stomach protruding between them. Logan lifted his wife, holding her tightly under her buttocks, his long arms stretching round so that his hands settled under her thighs. It put their lips level as he pressed his to hers and closed his eyes. The kiss deepened and their breath came in quiet puffs filled with passion.

  Hana’s eyes shot open and she gasped as Logan’s body tipped and swayed with the motion of him walking backwards. “No!” she hissed as he grappled one handed for the door handle. He pushed the door roughly and the small office opened out behind him, relatively tidy in the absence of their resident mechanic, but still full of greasy, blackened pieces of broken equipment.

  “Do as you’re told woman!” Logan’s eyes sparkled with a diamond quality as he smiled at her, worry and disappointment abandoned in favour of the excitement of dangerous lovemaking. He sat Hana gently on the littered desk and before she could hop down, turned the key in the lock and appeared in front of her again. He slipped his tee shirt over his head, leaving his dark hair sticking upwards in a curly, static-filled tumble, his huge arm muscles flexing with the action.

  Hana sighed and shook her head, running her fingers over the strong wall of chest. “I said no.” Her green eyes narrowed as her body betrayed her and Logan smiled that sexy half-smirk that he kept just for her.

  “I heard ya,” he whispered as his stubble ground along the tender skin of Hana’s neck. “I just don’t believe ya.”

  Hana sighed, deliberately letting it sound like resignation; but as Logan’s rough cheeks grazed her shoulder, she smirked and pursed her lips. Her hands strayed over the ugly raised scar - the one that Sylvia had never touched with her perfectly manicured fingers, but thoughts of the other woman were rapidly dispelled by her husband’s expert attentions.

  Chapter 47

  Hana woke in the plush bedroom with tortured thoughts of Bobby coursing through her brain. It was yet another disturbed night fuelled by rampant worries. What if she had helped a murderer to escape? Too many things crowded in on her and sleep evaded her after the first thoughts leaked through to her consciousness.

  Hana turned to her sleeping lover, his face turned towards her and his right hand resting on her stomach as he snoozed. His face looked peaceful, a rarity nowadays. The idea of confession left her as quickly as it came and Hana bit her lip and extracted herself from the four poster bed backwards. She laid Logan’s hand gently on the mattress and it crept for a moment, looking for her. He stilled. Satisfied, Hana left the room.

  Phoenix slept on her back with her chubby arms raised high above her head, tiny snores issuing from her rosebud lips. Hana moved quietly down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and found Tama sat at the table. His body seemed rigid and uncompromising and his hair was ruffled and unkempt. “Hey, boy,” Hana ran her hand through his dark curls and Tama relaxed his two-handed grip on the mug in front of him.

  “Hey.”

  “What’s the matter? It’s five o’clock in the morning.” Hana knew the signs instantly and a part of her shrugged in annoyance at herself for asking.

  “Lucy.” The one word answer contained a swirling pit of buried emotion, which threatened to break through into the young man’s controlled expression. “She dumped me.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Logan had warned her, but Hana managed not to convey that in her sympathy. For Tama’s sake, it needed to sound genuine. “Where have you been? I got worried about you, right around the time Odering started looking for you for your statement.”

  Tama shrugged and his nonchalant response was reassuring for Hana. A man who seemed so unbothered by a cop’s interest in him, could not have committed the murder. “I drove to Hamilton and she said a friend of hers saw me with another girl in a nightclub in Auckland. So we’re done.”

  “What girl in Auckland?” Hana felt wary.

  “I have no idea. I get home from work and I’m knackered. I go home to sleep and then within minutes of my head touching the pillow, it’s time to get up again.”

  “Did you tell Lucy that?”

  Tama rolled his eyes, an epitome of the rude teenager and Hana felt herself withdraw. Years of being drawn into conversations like that with Bodie, had left her expecting to be blamed or her advice labelled as stupid or irrelevant. She made tea with the avid interest of a connoisseur, despite the fact it was regular decaf. Hana made a show of dipping the bag in her mug and adding the milk, buying herself time to find the right wise words to say. Nothing came to her, so she admitted defeat and turned to leave the room.

  “Sorry.” Tama’s apology sounded more sincere than grudging. Hana clutched her drink and observed him, still not sure whether to stay or go. “I’m just really upset. I did everything she wanted and this is what I get for it.”

  “What did she want?” Hana kept her voice light and soft.

  “No sex before marriage, me to do all the romancing and stay on track with my training. That worked didn’t it?”

  “Would you like me to speak to Lucy?” Hana ventured. Bodie would have pitched a fit like a Tasmanian devil at the suggestion but Tama was different. She risked it. The young man turned to her with a stricken look, his grey eyes turning to a gritty shade and he shook his head.

  “Thanks, Ma, but you can’t now.”
>
  “Did you delete her number? I can probably find it somewhere...”

  “No!” Sounding more insistent, Tama shook his head. “I have deleted it. I don’t ever want to speak to her again. It’s over. I’ll move on. I’m due back at work at the weekend so I’ll head out this afternoon.”

  “Why don’t you get some sleep first? You look done in. Did you argue until late?”

  Tama shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “Fair enough. Want a hug?” Hana laid her drink on the table and the young man nodded with a slight inclination of his dark, glossy head. She wrapped her arms around his strong neck, feeling the tension of his body and the grief of emotional loss resonating out of him.

  “I was gonna ask her to marry me. I finish my probation soon and I’ll get stationed at a fire headquarters somewhere. It could have been local. They offered.”

  “Poor baby.” Hana kissed Tama’s head and held him for a second longer. “It’s her loss. You’re gorgeous.”

  “Yeah. So much for that.”

  Hana left the young man in peace and went into the lounge to curl up on the wide sofa to think. She heard him scrape his chair back and put his mug in the dishwasher, recognising the shushing sound of his socks on the tiles as he left the room. Hana tutted to herself, wishing God would give the poor boy a break. As it turned out, Tama’s troubles were self-inflicted. A familiar chirping sound came from the kitchen and forced her to shift herself to answer it. Hana yanked her phone from the charger on the side and opened the new text.