Hana Du Rose

by K T Bowes

  “I want the cops to sort it out,” Hana whined and he rubbed her back.

  “I know. Bodie’s doing his best but it’s hard. He’s too far away.” Logan kissed the top of her head. “I’ll get you a glass of wine.” He bit his lip in concentration and his pupils dilated as he ran his good hand up her waist and along the base of her spine. He leaned in and kissed the side of her neck and Hana heard her small exhale betray her.

  “Yes please,” she whispered. “To the wine.”

  While he fetched it, Hana stripped off and dived into the bath, almost breaking her neck in her haste to cover the not-so-sexy parts of her body beneath the bubbles. Logan returned with two glasses of wine balanced in one hand, far too full to be a single measure and a terrible idea with painkillers. To her embarrassment, he sat on the stool in the corner and settled in for the long haul. “Hana?” His tone sounded serious. “Do you regret this?” He indicated the room with his outstretched arm, wine slopping from the glass in his hand. “What did Angus say to you at the wedding? I know he upset you.”

  Hana considered her answer. His heightened perception meant he’d know if she lied. “I regret nothing when it’s just us.” She took a swallow of her merlot. “When other people get involved, it’s messy and I feel out of my depth.”

  Logan nodded. “I get it. Perhaps we should run away.” The suggestion sounded half-serious. “Clean toilets on the Gold Coast or in Fiji, what do you reckon?”

  Hana laughed and sank into the bubbles until only her face showed. Her glass teetered on the tile shelf next to the bath. “If we didn’t just buy this place, I’d be booking the flights.”

  Logan grinned. “I like the way you included me in your crazy purchase.” His brow narrowed and he took a hasty swallow. “Hana,” he began, his voice sounding grave. “I need to talk to you about something.” She peeped over the side of the bath, his gravity alarming her. “If I died…” Her face recoiled in pain and Logan put his glass on the floor and stood. “Look, I’m sorry, but we must talk about this. We just blended two separate families and it’s important.” Logan stared at a mark on the ceiling to avoid the horror in Hana’s face. “If I die, you’ll inherit everything I have.” He took a slug of his wine and sat back down. “You have your kids. Maybe part of your son’s problem is worrying you won’t make sure it works out for them.”

  Hana sank back into the bath, her face ashen. “Nobody’s going to die.”

  Logan sighed. “I did some digging of my own, Hana. There’s more to this than the cops think.”

  “What?” Her eyes widened in fear. “What do you know?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing worth repeating. Something is going on and I can’t get to the bottom of it. I’ve asked around.” He raised a hand. “I have friends in Auckland. I only asked questions, Hana.”

  She sighed. “But we don’t have to talk about dying, Logan. I already lost one husband.”

  Logan shrugged. “Someone’s going to a lot of trouble to find you, Hana. We must cover our bases. I just wanted you to know that I’ll never lay claim to anything you brought into the marriage. Your kids can take it all. I suggest you make a watertight will and reassure your son.”

  Hana shook her head and bubbles moved in her hair. “It can’t be the money,” she said, her tone heavy. “I don’t know what his problem is.”

  “He doesn’t trust me.” Logan sounded certain. “Just reassure him I’m not after your money.”

  Hana nodded and a lone tear worked its way down her cheek and into the water.

  “Oh, sweetheart.” Logan placed his wine glass on the sink and knelt by the bath. He slipped his good arm around Hana’s wet shoulders and held her. “I’ll take care of you,” he promised, stroking her damp hair and kissing her temple.

  Hana didn’t sleep well, despite another glass of wine and an exhausting romp with her husband. She rehashed the conversation with Ethel Bowman, hatching unrealistic plans to trap the faceless Mr Laval. She toyed with the idea of setting up a meeting via Ethel and inviting the entire New Zealand Police Force. Hana turned on her side and faced the bare windows, watching a plane track across the sky with its landing lights flashing. “It might not be him,” she whispered to herself. “But who else would know so much about me without having ever met?”

  Tiger slumped on the end of their bed and Hana felt his weight on her feet. He snuffled around and she recognised the sound of him licking his bum. “Stop!” Hana moved her foot and heard the controlled thud as he got off the bed. He gave a little mew which translated as, ‘Don’t care - didn’t want to be here anyway.’ Hana listened to his bell tinkle down the hallway. At least he’d returned home after his outdoor adventure.

  Only Logan bought into Hana’s theory about Ethel’s gentleman friend. Bodie had brushed it off without consideration. Powerlessness assuaged her, knowing she could do nothing. The connection felt like a viable lead, but the risk lay in following it and discovering a harmless old man in companionship with a lonely old lady.

  Hana turned over for the hundredth time, unnerved by Logan’s foray into a path of questioning she didn’t understand. She hadn’t asked who he’d spoken too, but felt too afraid to press. A niggling fear added to her multitude of worries. Logan thought changing her will might assuage Bodie’s animosity, but she sensed her son knew something he wouldn’t share. Hana squeezed her eyes tight shut and pushed her face into her pillow, sensing a dangerous storm coming.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Hana woke to the sound of a mug clattering against her bedside table and the clink of cutlery on a plate. She struggled to rouse herself. Her breathing felt tight, as though a truck rolled over her chest while she slept. Looking at the wall clock in the dim light from the hallway, Hana saw the hands pointing to just after six.

  She rubbed her eyes and when she opened them, saw Logan standing next to the bed. He carried his left arm across his chest, but the other hand clutched a card and small present. The wrapping paper clung to the box, tape sticking out at odd angles like a child’s attempt. Hana hauled herself into a sitting position. “Hi babe.” She yawned. “How come you’re up so early?”

  “I wanted to make you breakfast.” Logan’s thigh clattered against the plate, almost sending the whole thing onto the floor. Hana faked a wooden smile, cringing at the acceleration of the widening age gap. “Happy birthday,” he said. She sighed and looked down at her hands, feeling old and scruffy with her hair matted and her monkey pyjamas skewed over her shoulder. Logan’s beautiful face accentuated her inadequacy, with his fluttering dark lashes framing striking grey eyes and his fringe bouncing with the force of each blink. Hana bit her lip and accepted his birthday card and gift.

  “Thank you.” She smiled and willed her tired fingers to pull apart the envelope. Inside lay a beautiful card, picked with thought. Logan’s neat left-handed script showed he’d written the card before his injury.

  ‘To my best girl, I always knew I’d find you. All my love, Logan x.’

  Hana felt tears rise into her chest and blew out through her mouth. Her birthday never felt special and she expected nothing more of this one. “What’s the matter?” Logan asked, sitting on the side of the bed.

  She fondled the embossed card and sighed. “I can’t even get to work without subterfuge. And Pete’s probably already eaten my birthday chocolate. What’s the point of having a birthday?”

  “So I can shower you with love.” Logan’s lips quirked upwards revealing the dimple in his cheek. He pulled her into his side. “Open your present.”

  Hana wrestled the tape off to reveal a silver locket. She turned it over in her fingers, examining the circular shape of a koru. “It’s stunning,” she breathed.

  “The koru is the unfurling frond of a silver fern,” he said, his voice low. “It means new beginnings.”

  Hana swallowed her misery and clasped it to her chest. “Did you put a photo in it?” she asked, peering around the edge to look for an opener. Logan shook h
is head.

  “Na. I thought you could put your kids in there. You can see my ugly face every day.”

  Hana snorted. “Logan Du Rose, you have no idea how gorgeous you are.”

  “I don’t think so.” He turned sideways and used his right hand to grab the plate containing scrambled eggs on toast. His face looked grey from the effort of making it one-handed. “Do you want the spotlights on or the main light?” he asked, standing so she could settle herself to eat.

  “Main light please,” she answered. “Otherwise I won’t get up.”

  Nodding, Logan walked across the bedroom and flicked the switch. He turned with a smile and left the room, not seeing Hana’s horrified reaction to the sight of his bare torso. The crow-bar didn’t just break Logan’s arm, it caused a long bruise across his left side which spread as far as his spine. The black and purple mark made her stomach roil. She remembered the sickening thud as the bar contacted Logan’s body. The curved metal prongs cracked the bone above his elbow, but the length of it left a diagonal welt. Hana shook her head in disbelief and stared at her uneaten food. She forced it into her mouth to honour her husband’s efforts, but it cost her.

  Logan cleared up the kitchen with difficulty, refusing to let Hana help. “No,” he protested as she bent to push her plate into the dishwasher. “You’re the birthday girl today. I’ll do it.”

  She tied a plastic bag over his cast so he could shower and helped him with buttons and cufflinks. He wouldn’t discuss his conversation with the emergency doctor the day before and left her unsatisfied about whether he mentioned the bruising to his ribs. “But it’s a mess!” she insisted and Logan covered her lips with his to shut her up. “I worry about you.” Hana pursed her lips and he smiled.

  “And I love it.” He brushed his thumb across her top lip. “But I’m not used to it.”

  Hana drove and they listened to the radio on the way to work, taking the same route and parking on the side street. Hana wore stylish but sensible footwear and the journey through the gully proved easy despite light rain speckling the track.

  “I love you, Loge.” Hana smiled up at him as she navigated a puddle. Turning, she saw the faintest glimmer of pain cross his face and then he banished it like morning mist. “I know you’re lying to me,” she said with a sigh. “You’re in agony. I can see it in your eyes.”

  On her desk, Hana found the elusive chocolate bar from the social club. Pete cowered like a whipped dog. “I didn’t eat it,” he said, looking pleased with himself. “But can I have it now?” He rubbed his stomach and eyed the bar in her hand.

  “No.” Hana’s eyes narrowed. He sat down and she relented, breaking the packet open and snapping off a few squares.

  Hana received texts from her children, but when her phone buzzed again, she didn’t recognise the number. Opening the message with caution, she read the words on the screen.

  ‘Happy Birthday, I hope this year brings you all the happiness you deserve. Wishing you all the best, your friend, Anka xx.’

  Hana glanced at the other occupants of the room. Caroline argued with a Year 13 with a raised and angry tattoo poking from his shirt collar. Pete sat in his chair marking assignments with his eyes shut and his cheek resting on his desk. Hana texted back.

  ‘Thank you – I miss you – where are you?’

  Nothing came for a while, but after she gave up hope and tucked the phone into her drawer, she heard the muted signal. Dragging it free, Hana read the message.

  ‘Don’t laugh but I’m working as a chalet cleaner in Russell. I need space. Please don’t tell anyone. Nobody knows where I am. You looked beautiful at the registry office. I’m proud of you.’

  Hana replied, her fingers moving across the keypad at speed.

  ‘I won’t tell. I saw you there. Please stay in touch?’

  Her phone beeped again before she could silence it. Caroline sighed and gave her a warning glare which chilled Hana’s blood. The woman’s blue eyes narrowed to angry slits and Hana turned away with anxiety budding. Angus wouldn’t fire her for taking private messages, but Caroline might be keeping score and wouldn’t be above fabrication.

  The single lettered reply made Hana’s heavy heart dance with delight.

  ‘K.’ it said.

  Hana powered through her work, leaving herself enough time to create a display in the foyer. Logan visited at interval with a coffee from the vending machine and Hana sighed with pleasure. “I could get used to you running around after me. I’ve tolerated that insipid brew all year and never considered bringing coins for the machine.”

  Logan grinned, the expression coy. He leaned forward to kiss Hana and she sighed and tilted her coffee. “Whoa,” he whispered, a rushed, breathy sound. “You don’t want to add to the stains on the carpet do you?” He raised an eyebrow and Hana stifled a snort which ended in a shudder.

  “I don’t want to think about what might be on this carpet,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

  “See ya later,” he whispered. “We’ll go home and stain our own carpet.”

  Hana hooted with laughter and shoved his thigh. He winked at her and left through the door to the common room. Her eyes tracked to Caroline, noticing her rigid spine and envious glare in her blue eyes. Both women watched Logan’s outline through the misted glass of the rear door as he skirted the office.

  Rattled by the atmosphere, Hana went into the common room to drink her coffee. She stood at the floor to ceiling window and watched Logan on duty in the courtyard, supervising boys collecting litter in red buckets. A group of prefects flanked him like bees around a honey pot, hanging off his every word with eagerness. He dispatched them in different directions as trouble arose, an orchestra conductor with a band of hundreds.

  He glanced up once as a small boy bounced next to him while imparting some trivia only he found hilarious. Logan’s smile looked polite but his eyes rested on Hana. She blew him a kiss at the same moment the bell sounded and the child departed to his next class. He raised his eyebrows and Hana saw the top of his dark head as he ran up the front steps and entered the building. The broken arm did little to hinder him and Hana gasped as Logan burst through the double doors a minute later. His quickened heartbeat told her he’d run as he pulled her into his chest. He bailed her up against the wall to the left of the window as noise filled the buildings around them at the sound of six hundred boys on the move. “You’re a real bad girl,” he breathed into her hair. “You’ll get us both fired!” He pulled the huge curtain across the glass and kissed her, leaving her breathless as he strode away.

  Hana hugged herself, enjoying the feeling of safety his presence imbued. The empty coffee cup tilted in her fingers and dregs dribbled onto the carpet. Logan glanced back once more at the entrance to the covered bridge across to the English building, a look of desire flashing in his eyes.

  Hana jumped at the slam of the office door and watched Caroline pick up speed. Her blonde hair bounced as she ran towards the over-bridge, her feet clattering against the wooden floor. “Logan!” she shouted and the contented smile slipped from Hana’s lips.

  “No!” Hana hissed, dropping the paper cup to the floor. She gave chase, her self-defence reaction shrouded in guilt. She hid at the entrance to the covered walkway, letting the left of the wooden doors screen her from view. The stamping feet of boys grew closer.

  “Come on Logan, you can stop this charade now. You made your point. We need to talk. You’re delaying the inevitable because we’re meant to be together. We both know that.” Caroline’s voice betrayed an element of pleading and Hana held her breath.

  “Go away, your behaviour is unprofessional.” Logan kept walking and Caroline jerked towards him, seizing his wrist in her hand.

  “It’s fine, I learned my lesson. Let’s go back to the way we were. I know you don’t want to be with the brainless bimbo. I don’t understand why you married her but it doesn’t matter. We can undo it.”

  Logan’s face clouded in fury and
Hana put a hand up to her mouth. “Leave me alone!” he snapped, shaking off her grip. “Hana’s worth ten of you, so back off! I don’t want you in my life, Caroline. You had your chance.” His voice sounded clear and steady, devoid of awkwardness or doubt. Hana watched Caroline’s hand reach for him again but he turned, leaving before it connected.

  Hana’s relief brought overwhelming nausea. She ran to the staff toilets and vomited, anxiety spreading like an infection through her system. Caroline wouldn’t give up and Hana doubted her ability to win this fight. So far, Logan’s ex fiancé had proved relentless. She waited before returning to the office, hearing Caroline bashing hell out of her keyboard through the closed door. “Enjoy the show, bimbo?” the blonde woman snapped as Hana walked towards her desk. The nausea overrode her again, bringing with it the stench of defeat. “You’re nothing more than a minor distraction.” Caroline turned to face her, eyes flashing as though sanity no longer lived there.

  Colour flushed Hana’s cheeks and she stiffened her reluctant backbone. “It didn’t look that way to me.” She narrowed her green eyes to slits. “From where I’m standing, you’re the loser in this. Pity you forgot to show up for your own wedding.” She waggled a shaking ring finger. “And now I’m wearing the band of gold which ties me to Logan.” She forced a smile onto her lips. “I won’t be taking it off anytime soon.”

  Objects spewed from Caroline’s desk as she lurched for Hana. Taller, she glared down her nose and gave Hana a hefty shove backwards. Hana grunted as her ribs contacted the side of an open drawer of the filing cabinet and rage lit like a flame in her heart. Caroline set her face into its characteristic sneer, not expecting resistance. “You’re such a fool!” she sniggered. “Women like you don’t snag guys like him.”