by K T Bowes
Hana shrugged and shook her head, feeling her ponytail swish across her back. “It’s not relevant,” she replied, her tone nonchalant. “I’ve married Logan, not his family.”
“Good answer!” Michael nodded in appreciation. “He picked a woman with looks and brains. Well done Logan. I didn’t think he had it in him, did you Liza?”
Liza’s eyes narrowed and Hana avoided her gaze, sensing the condemnation with no need to see it written on her regal expression. The single rasher of bacon turned to ash in her throat. Liza leaned forward. “It takes a village to raise a child, Hana.” Her grey eyes bored into Hana’s face. “Like it or not, you’ve married this family and we shall hold you accountable.”
“Accountable for what?” Hana glanced sideways at Logan and saw his jaw clench.
“Leave her alone!” he snapped and Liza recoiled in surprise.
Hana jumped at the barb in his voice and pushed her bottom harder into the back of her seat. She’d half-packed their belongings upstairs and wondered how long it might take her to sling the rest into the Honda. A speedy escape seemed preferable to the awful tension in the room. Logan rose to rinse his breakfast plate and Hana watched a chef beat eggs in a corner of the industrial kitchen. His white clad arms whisked in a frantic motion. Miriam leaned over a woman unloading the dishwasher. “Start on the bedrooms when you’re done there,” she said and received a nod in return.
Hana opened her mouth to excuse herself and Michael beat her to it. “Wouldn’t you get paid more if you were a qualified teacher?” he asked, biting on egg yolk like a hungry bear.
“Probably.” Hana wished to avoid a conversation with the potential to go downhill.
“Didn’t you go to university?”
“Yes. I have an English Honours degree.”
“So you could still do it.”
“But I don’t want to. I have no desire to teach.” Hana felt colour rising in her neck, overheating her from the inside. Battling it worsened the flush. She kept her voice level. “What’s the big deal about teaching?”
Michael shrugged, his expression nonchalant. “Just seems a bit dumb is all. Working in an office for peanuts when you could earn more.”
“I’ve done just fine, thank you. I like my job and I’m financially secure. I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, you will now!” Liza’s barbed comment sounded loud enough for Hana to hear. The pecking festival left her breathless and disconcerted.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She gulped and looked to Logan for help, watching him turn and lean his bum against the counter. His arms folded across his chest and his face exuded thunder. Michael opened his mouth to start again.
“Shut it!” Logan’s command carried across the large kitchen. A woman with a laden tray widened her eyes and stopped in her tracks, scurrying on when she realised he didn’t mean her. Logan’s eyes flashed and he gritted his teeth. “Quit cross-examining my wife. Or get out.”
Hana gaped as nobody challenged him. Miriam placed toast racks into a tall cupboard with careful hands and remained silent. Michael shoveled food into his mouth and Liza slurped coffee opposite without comment. Logan reclaimed his seat next to Hana, stretching his long legs out in front of her and resting his boots on the beam between the stout table legs. He turned his body in towards her like a human shield and she shot him a look of gratitude. The atmosphere plummeted towards freezing point and she pondered her escape with more urgency.
Liza continued to observe Hana across the kitchen table. She resembled an eagle, circling the up draughts before plunging onto its prey with talons and hooked open beak. Hana understood her success in the law courts. The woman could sever heads from bodies without moving out of her seat. Her treatment of Miriam seemed cursory and Hana cringed as she fussed around her daughter for the price of an insincere smile.
“Will you stay another night?” Miriam asked, brushing Liza’s shoulder with the back of her hand.
Liza glanced across at Logan in response and shook her head. “No. Big case starting tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Her mother’s face sank into a haze of wrinkles and Hana felt a spark of compassion begin in her breast. Miriam turned to Michael. “Are you staying, tāne?”
He looked up from his plate and nodded. “Yeah, sounds good.”
Miriam smiled with pleasure. “That’s wonderful,” she gushed.
Hana became aware of the female wait staff shooting looks between Logan and Michael. Logan ignored them but Michael promised assignations with his sultry grey eyes. They tittered in the corner of the room over the pretence of polishing cutlery and discomfort made Hana squirm in her seat. Michael winked at a teenage waitress and Logan narrowed his eyes. “Don’t!” he snapped and Michael laughed, giving him a two fingered salute in a childish display of defiance.
Hana watched Logan’s slender fingers tap a beat on the table. Veins and tendons disappeared into his shirt, wrapped around olive wrists like corded ropes. Hana followed their route with her eyes, knowing the capable muscular frame hiding beneath the expensive cloth. She imagined what he might use those hands for and felt her cheeks flush. Craving the safety of Logan’s bedroom and the promise of more intimacy, she rubbed her fingers across his thigh and narrowed her eyes. His lips rose in one corner in a lopsided smile and a dimple appeared in his cheek. Hana watched from beneath her lashes and he winked in return. “I should finish packing,” she whispered and watched him bite his lower lip.
Liza studied the exchange through hooded lids and heaved out an exaggerated sigh. Logan ignored her as he ran his hand along the outside seam of Hana’s jeans, waking up the nerves in her thigh and leaning in for a kiss. “Need help?” he mouthed and Hana feigned coyness with a nonchalant shrug.
A car screeched outside, travelling too fast for the deep gravel surface. Wheels spun and stones peppered the long kitchen window as the vehicle slewed to a stop. Everyone jumped except Logan. He looked towards his mother. “Trouble?”
The slam of a car door and scrunch of footsteps followed. Miriam stood on tiptoe at the sink and peeped out through the long sash window. Her complexion blanched as she sought Logan with her eyes and gave him a look of helplessness. She sent a silent transmission and he left the room, gone before Hana could assess the situation with any clarity. A cool belt of air occupied his vacant space and her chest tightened. She heard his boot soles thud along the tiled floor, followed by the bang of the ornate front doors. Hana stood, shoving her chair with the backs of her knees. A dart of pain shot up her wrist as Michael gripped it one-handed, his fingers tight and uncompromising. His grey eyes flashed with veiled warning. “Leave it,” he said, laying his fork down with his other hand. The steel behind his smile only hardened Hana’s resolve.
“Let go of me!” She tugged her wrist and his grip tightened, drawing a hiss from between her teeth. “It hurts!” she snapped and slapped him around the face.
A collective gasp filled the room and Hana felt the eyes of the kitchen staff on her flushed cheeks. Cradling her wrist in her right hand, Hana fumbled her way through the heavy door and ran down the corridor. Her feet slapped against the tiles. She followed the sound of raised voices, one of them hysterical.
“She’s gone, she’s gone!” Tama stood at the bottom of the front steps, his back to Hana. She skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs and stopped the door banging behind her. Logan leaned his backside on the old car next to them, not attempting to quiet the teenager. A couple pulling a suitcase up the front steps gave the men sideways looks of concern. Hana offered a lame smile and moved sideways on the uppermost step to allow them to pass.
The door closed behind them and Hana watched the slump in the teenager’s shoulders and knew what ailed him. Anka left, abandoning him like an unwanted pet. Her heart sank into her gut with sadness. “What a waste,” she sighed, pressing her hand over her mouth. Anka sacrificed her job at the school, her marriage and children, her faith and friendships. All collateral damage
as the promise of excitement faded against the bite of reality. Hana shook her head knowing Anka had torched every possible bridge back to her former life.
Tears of regret pricked her eyes as Hana stood in the wide doorway, the wind lifting her hair from her shoulders and tossing it around behind her. A wave of bitterness urged her to gather up the pea-sized gravel and throw handfuls into the air in temper. She hoped sex with the teenager made up for losing everything else, but doubted it.
Tama thrashed around in front of Logan, his body moving with stiffness and aggression. Hana heard him shift from begging to bargaining, his back towards her. “Please, tell me where she went. Your chick must know; they’re friends.”
“They were friends.” Logan’s voice remained calm. “You ruined that for her.” He stared around the empty car park as though bored, his body language relaxed and unthreatening. Hana noticed how the family resemblance looked striking at close quarters and a doubt rose into her mind. “What do you want from me, Tama?” Logan asked.
His question acted as a catalyst and Tama’s body folded from the waist. “Help me!” he exploded. “Tell me what to do.”
Logan shook his head and Hana watched sympathy flicker in his expression. “I can’t, mate. You’ve detonated your life like I said you would. I advised you not to move in with her and I asked you to stay in school. You did what you wanted and now you’ll have to work through the consequences.”
“Please!” Tama begged and Hana heard his voice rock with tears.
Logan stood and shifted his butt off the car. He shook his head. “Are you high, Tama? Did you take something?” His voice sounded level and Hana held her breath and backed towards the door.
“Screw you!” Tama spat. “Like you even care.”
Logan’s body language stiffened, his muscles flexing in readiness for trouble. “Stay at the bunkhouse and sleep it off,” he advised, his voice calm and reasonable. “Make any trouble and I’ll ask security to throw you out.”
Tama reached out a hand, twisting Logan’s shirt in his fingers as he passed. He dragged him close, almost overbalancing with the effort. “Where is she?” he yelled into Logan’s face. “Tell me where that chick is. You know who I mean, don’t you? The one you’re banging. Where is she?”
Hana held her breath and Logan stopped walking. His body resembled a power pole, upright and immovable. Grey eyes flashed danger and he put his hand over Tama’s fingers. “Let go of me and I won’t break your face,” Logan hissed. “But you ever speak about Hana like that again and I’ll bury you. You just enjoyed your last free pass.” He snatched his shirt free and sent Tama reeling backwards with a single push. Then he strode towards the stairs.
Hana shook as hatred boiled inside her against a man who slipped into her friend’s life like a cuckoo and detonated it from the inside. Logan jerked his head to warn her to go inside, but she didn’t move fast enough. Tama righted himself against the car door and turned to watch Logan walk away. He spotted Hana and lunged towards the stairs, garbled words erupting from his lips. “Where is she? You know where she is. Tell me where she went!”
Hana squeaked in fear as the frantic teenager lurched up the first step. She backed towards the door and fumbled with the handle. “Logan!” She shouted for help but he controlled the situation, intercepting Tama before he reached the next step. He dragged him backwards by the collar and Tama’s lips parted in surprise.
“No!” Logan spun him around, leading him away from the steps. “Stay away from my wife!”
Hana told her feet to move and take her inside but they refused, keeping her on the smooth, flat terrace watching the awful scene unfold. She sensed her presence inflamed Tama’s temper but couldn’t tear herself away.
“Wife?” Tama screeched and his face crumpled in an ugly combination of misery and fury. “No! That’s not fair!” He wrestled against Logan’s grip on his collar and anger made him strong. Hana’s feet took root on the landing, her heartbeat pounding in her ears and rendering her useless as the men struggled.
Despite the age gap, Logan got the upper hand and forced Tama’s arm behind his back. The teenager grunted in pain. “I’ll break it,” Logan warned and Hana pressed her fingers to her lips. He shoved Tama towards the driver’s door of the battered car, holding him upright as he pushed him against it. “I’ll ask you again,” he hissed. “Have you taken anything?”
“No!” Tama shouted into his face and Hana watched her husband recoil. His shirt strained tight as his torso bulged with muscle and his face remained hidden from her. Tama’s cheeks paled and he quailed at whatever he saw in Logan’s eyes. “I’m just upset.” He swallowed. “She left me, Logan. What should I do?”
Logan took a step back and let go of Tama. Hana saw him shrug. “I don’t know, mate. Dude, she used you, just like I said she would.”
Without answering, Tama opened the car door and started to get in, fiddling around in his jeans for the keys. Shaking his head, Logan turned away and walked back up the stairs. His face oozed dark menace and Hana saw him as a stranger; a mysterious brooding force she didn’t understand. She felt a wave of fear at the look in his grey eyes and held her breath.
Logan made it up the first two steps before Hana let out a strangled cry. “No!” she screamed and galvanised herself enough to move forward. She tripped down three steps and landed on her knees, unable to stop the spiteful backhander catching Logan a nasty blow across the left side of his body. A dull metallic clang cut through the air as he staggered backwards with a grunt of pain and almost fell. Hana screamed and crawled towards him, holding her arms over them both to protect them from the next blow. The crowbar whooshed through the air as Tama lifted it to shoulder height again. He hadn’t finished.
Hana braced herself for the impact, needing to defend her husband. Logan’s complexion slipped into a ghastly grey and he clutched his left arm close to his body. Tama cracked the metal bar against the concrete steps as Hana shoved her fist into his right leg, unbalancing him on the small ledge. “No!” she shrieked as Tama lifted the bar again, his face a mask of rage. She covered Logan with her body, cringing at the expected blow.
Hana saw shoes move past her vision. Tama’s feet shifted backwards and he stumbled down the stairs, landing on his bum in the gravel. The metal bar flew wide. Michael Du Rose followed him and picked him up by the throat, slamming him backwards against the car. Hana lost interest as she felt Logan push against her. His breath came in rasps and she sat up, giving him air. She panicked at the look on his face, seeing beads of sweat break out on his forehead. Shaking arms held him as Michael shoved Tama back into the car and the engine started running. “Something broke, I heard it,” Hana hissed, her voice breaking as she checked Logan’s arm with inexperienced hands. “Let your brother check you out?”
“I’m fine!” Logan gritted his teeth and a strange look crossed his face. “He’s not touching me. Don’t say anything.” His grey eyes dulled as he implored Hana to play along. She stood and helped him to his feet, supporting his weight up the stairs to the front door. A glance behind her showed Tama’s face through the open driver’s window. She saw a mix of emotions in his eyes and turned away sickened.
“I hate you so much!” she heard him scream at Michael, hatred in his wavering voice.
They made slow progress to the top of the stairs and a tourniquet gripped Hana’s chest in a vice of breathlessness. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, leaning Logan against the door and reaching for her cell phone. She fumbled to unlock the screen in her haste and almost dropped it.
Long fingers with red varnished nails plucked it from her trembling hand and Hana exhaled in relief. “I need the cops,” she stammered.
Liza’s face creased in a sneer which involved every muscle. “We don’t do things that way, pākehā. You need to learn the rules of the game!”
Hana recoiled in amazement, looking to Logan for direction. Liza singled her out as a white face amongst the brown
and the racism shocked her. Logan’s blank expression gave away nothing. He continued to shuffle towards the doorway, his left arm clasped to his side and every breath an effort. Miriam stood in their way and Hana grabbed her hand. “Do something!” she begged, recoiling at the blank look in the other woman’s eyes. The silence deafened Hana and she swallowed as Liza slipped the phone into her jeans pocket out of reach. “You’re sick,” she gasped. She shook her head and supported Logan into the lobby. “You’re all bloody sick.”
Logan squeezed her shoulder and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Hana pursed her lips and respected his wishes, keeping her anguished words inside. Nobody spoke and not one member of his gathered family tried to stop Logan’s painful progress as he walked up the main staircase. Hana looked around at each of them in utter amazement, shaking her head in disgust. Then she followed him up the stairs, putting her energies into helping her husband.
Logan’s breath came in short gasps at the top of the stairs. Reaching their room, he grappled with the keypad, punching the numbers in with a shaking hand. He shook his head at her offer of help. Inside, he collapsed onto the bed and lay there, ignoring her questions as though she wasn’t there. “Let me help you!” Hana begged. “He broke a bone, Logan! I heard it!”
Silence met her pleas. Panicking, she paced the room and at the continued lack of response from Logan, packed the rest of their gear. “We need to get out of here,” she muttered, hearing him groan in agony as he rolled onto his back. “They don’t care!” she said, raising her voice. “They watched him hit you and wouldn’t let me call the cops. What’s wrong with them?”
Logan reached out a hand and the greyness in his face frightened her. Hana crouched next to his side. “What do you need?” she asked. “What can I do?”
“My wash bag,” he murmured. “Can I have it?”