by K T Bowes
When the weakness passed, Hana crawled to the bed and lay down. Numbness dulled the pain and she forced herself to release bunched fists and relax her tight muscles. Exhaustion rested over her like a shroud. Tama’s presence in the house inflamed the situation and she couldn’t make her thoughts coherent with him in her safe place. She regretted baiting Logan and reeled from his rebuke. It smacked of her marriage to Vik. He didn’t trust her enough either.
Hana sat up as she heard her phone ringing somewhere else in the house. She listened for a moment, but abandoned thoughts of tracking it down. It silenced and she forgot it, closing her eyes and snuggling in against the greyness of another wasted day.
The click of the bedroom door roused her and she tensed. Her fragile sense of peace disappeared in an instant. “Hana?” Logan’s voice sounded soft, his anger gone. “Can we call a truce?” he asked, venturing into the room.
Hana lifted her head and faced him, pushing herself up onto her elbows. He held a pair of white undies in front of him, flapping them like a flag. She exhaled and lay back against the pillows, no energy left to argue. “Yes,” she replied.
Logan approached her side of the bed, clutching the pants against his chest. His good hand held up the failing towel around his waist. Hana turned on her side to face him and rested her cheek against her bent elbow. “Are they clean?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“No.” Logan smirked. “I grabbed them from the laundry.”
“Yuk.” Hana pushed her face into her pillow.
Logan sat next to her on the bed, picking at a thread on her sock before pulling her feet across his knees. He massaged them in warm hands. “Hana.” His tone sounded serious and she focussed on watching the pathetic knot at his waist give up its fight. “Hana?” He spoke again and she pulled her gaze away from the tantalising line of hair that disappeared beneath the towelling folds. “Some things are hard to explain and if you don’t want me to spend my life lying to you, you need to learn to trust me.” Logan’s glittering grey eyes held solemnity and Hana found it impossible to look away. “I’m not giving up on us. I’ve got all the time in the world to work through the things we don’t understand about each other.”
Hana looked down and opened her lips to list her grievances, but Logan pulled her chin up and forced her to meet his gaze. “Besides,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips, “I’m Catholic and we don’t believe in divorce. You’re stuck with me!”
“Don’t tease me.” Her tone held warning. “Don’t trivialise my feelings.”
Logan brushed his thumb across her lips. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to.”
“But you do.” Hana’s eyes filled with tears and she hated herself for it. “I don’t want Tama here because of what he did. Yet you let him stay.”
Logan’s lips pressed over hers, stopping her sentence and leaving it swirling between them. “I know. I understand all the reasons why you’re upset. Just give me a chance to put it right, please?” Hana allowed Logan to lay on the bed beside her, not objecting when he cuddled her close. “I love you, Hana Du Rose,” he whispered into her hair and she snickered with the ticklishness of it. “Do you want to see where my truce flag really came from?”
“I know where it came from,” she grumbled and Logan tickled her with his good hand until she squealed.
“You need a closer look,” he whispered and placed her fingers over the gaping hole in his towel. Hana gasped and pulled her hand back.
As the afternoon chilled, they snuggled beneath the duvet and Logan drew the curtains on the four-poster bed. Hana allowed the sense of safety to soothe her troubled soul as he removed her clothes. Logan’s gentle kisses warmed her and revived their former intimacy and passion. He made love to her without breaking eye contact, whispering endearments in Māori and giving her access to his mysterious world. Hana lay in his arms and drifted off to sleep, her cheek pressed against his downy chest.
She woke with a start, unable to pinpoint a reason for her heightened sense of alarm. The house sounded silent and it struck her as unusual. The dull base of the television no longer vibrated through the wooden floorboards and Hana sat up. Not trusting Tama, she needed to account for his whereabouts. The silence seemed ominous
Hana poked her head through the curtains of the bed, tugging them aside to put her feet on the rug. Their bedroom door moved against a draught from the hallway and Hana looked down at her nakedness and swallowed. She remembered Logan shutting the door behind him and glanced across at his dark head on the pillow. He groaned in his sleep and rolled onto his back, pushing a hairy knee out of the covers. Hana snatched up her clothes and pushed herself into them. She moved faster without the pervading nausea, grateful for its absence.
She padded into the lobby and tried the front door handle, alarmed when it opened to her touch. On the porch, cold air bit into her bare feet and Hana walked around the deck calling Tama’s name. She grew cross. “Tama, stop being an idiot!” she shouted. No answer. She checked his bedroom and nothing showed he ever existed. Panic vied with relief.
In the kitchen, Hana tripped over her handbag, wincing as she twisted her wrist against the table whilst trying to stop herself falling. Remembering the phone call, she fumbled in the open bag. A scruffy note in the middle of the kitchen table caught her eye. Hana read the boyish handwriting scrawled on the back of a power bill.
‘Thanks for everything. Going home. T.’
Her shoulders slumped with relief. “Oh, thank goodness for that!” she exclaimed. She checked the rest of her handbag, finding nothing missing. Bodie’s BMW keys still sat on the hall cupboard and the car nestled between the house and the top of the slope. She sank into a chair with a sigh.
The sound of her ringtone made her jump and Hana stared at her handbag in confusion. It came from elsewhere in the house. She tracked it to the lounge and the larger sofa, finding her phone singing to itself behind a cushion. She missed the call but a text message told her someone left a voicemail.
Hana blew out through her lips and listened to the stilted voice of her employer. Sheila Jennings hated the woodenness of answering machines. ‘Hi, Hana. It’s Sheila. Well, anyway. Hello. Pete said this was still your number but you aren’t at work. I need to talk to you. Soon, actually. It’s complicated but can we meet? Get back to me anyway. My phone number hasn’t changed and I did get all your lovely messages. I just couldn’t talk to anyone. Call me. Please?’
Hana chewed her lower lip and considered the prospect of venturing outside alone. Using Bodie’s car increased her anonymity and she’d spent the week driving to the hospital and back without incident. Hana stroked the buttons and formulated a plan, deciding to text Sheila instead of ringing.
She clicked the button to create a new message, startled at what she saw written on the screen.
‘Where are you?’
Hana swallowed. One of her frustrations with her ancient phone included the need to delete old messages from the text screen before she could send a new one. After so many years, she knew to delete as soon as she sent it to save time. “Where are you?” Hana repeated the message. “I didn’t send that.”
She hadn’t used her phone all day. The call log showed it sent earlier while she romped with Logan in the bedroom. Hana scrolled down with shaking fingers and saw a missed call from Anka. “Hi,” Anka’s voicemail said. “Just checking in to find out how Logan is.” Hana found it in an old message file, showing someone else listened to it.
She deleted the sent message with her heart in her mouth and responded to Sheila first.
‘I can meet you in Huntly in an hour. There’s a farmyard themed cafe at the end of the main street.’
Then she turned her attention to the spurious exchange with Anka. In her messages she found a reply, already seen by Tama, she presumed.
‘Still working in Russell. Healing slowly.’
“Oh, no!” Hana ran her hands over her face and dialled Anka’s number. No reply. Resorting
to text again, Hana sent a warning, hoping her friend received it in time to ready herself for an unwelcome visitor.
She padded to the bedroom, desperate to talk to Logan about his errant nephew. He lay on his back in the big bed, one hand over his heart and his face turned to the side. Peace shrouded him and his breathing sounded regular and easy. Hana hovered in the doorway, recognising the imprint of healing and reluctant to disrupt nature’s good work with her anxieties.
Instead, she used the bathroom, left a note for Logan next to Tama’s, locked up the house and left.
It took ten minutes to reach Huntly on the back road. Hana wondered how Tama exited the property and half expected to see him hitching a ride on the long highway north. She braced herself, feeling relieved when she reached the outskirts of the small town without encountering him.
Snagging the last of the angled parking on the main street, Hana wandered to the cafe. She paused to admire a metal wall hanging moulded into the shape of a tulip in the window of her favourite shop. The owner noticed her through the window and waved from behind his counter. Hana returned his greeting and forced herself to keep walking.
The cafe hummed with the tail end of the lunchtime rush and Hana grabbed a table near the back. A scruffy wooden five-bar gate hugged the wall next to her, back filled with artificial flowers and grasses. The farming theme continued with pig ornaments along one wall. Hana ordered a pot of tea and added coffee for Sheila. The waitress grinned, displaying a blue jewelled tongue. “Is the coffee for that hot guy you often have with you?” she demanded, resting a hand on her ample hip. “He likes trim milk, doesn’t he?”
“My son?” Hana cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “The policeman?”
The woman pushed her hair behind her ear and licked her lower lip. Her smile displayed neat teeth and Hana’s heart sank, placing her around her own age. “He’s hot, but I meant the other one. Tall, dark, the sort you wouldn’t kick out of bed for farting.”
Hana’s jaw clenched. “My husband.”
“Oh.” The waitress drew out the sound and realised her blunder. She backed away at speed with her order pad. “Yeah. I didn’t realise. Lucky you.”
Hana huffed out a breath of irritation. Despite his lack of confidence, Logan drew interest from women in all age groups and it heightened her sense of insecurity. Her fear of infidelity upending her fragile world grew with every such encounter. Sheila interrupted Hana’s tortured thoughts by blasting through the front door and staring around her for a moment.
Hana rose to attract her attention and Sheila scurried towards her with her usual effervescent energy. Her handbag trailed behind her and a long coat flapped around her shins. “Hana!” She held her arms out and enfolded her in a tight embrace, not noticing Hana’s gasp of surprise.
“What happened?” Hana exclaimed, taking a step back to admire her friend’s new image. “You look amazing!”
Sheila primped her bobbed hair with red lacquered nails. A sly smile lit her face. “Dull Sheila’s gone, Hana. Do you like?”
“Yes!” Hana marvelled. “But you didn’t take leave for a term just to get a haircut and lose a ton of weight.” She stepped back to scrutinise Sheila’s trim figure and peer at the engorged breasts popping over a neat waist. “You got a boob job!”
“Shhh!” Sheila looked around and flapped her hands. “Don’t shout it. Yes. I went to a surgeon in Auckland and he propped them up for me.”
Hana thudded into her seat and shook her head. “Wow. I never saw that coming.”
Sheila sat next to her and placed her handbag on the floor. “No, I’ve undergone a few significant changes.”
The waitress delivered their drinks and eyed Hana sideways. Sheila’s pert breasts nestled against the table edge like a pair of additional guests.
“Where have you been?” Hana demanded. She pointed at the boobs. “Apart from the obvious. You left me at the mercy of that she-devil.”
“That’s what I need to explain.” Sheila sipped her coffee and gave a satisfied sigh. “Remember all the upset with the board of trustees a while ago?”
Hana shook her head. “No.”
“Yes you do.” Sheila patted her hand. “They started enforcing the ban on extra marital relationships with other staff members.”
Hana thought of Caroline and Chris Carter and rolled her eyes. “Well, extra marital and all other forms of romantic involvement. I know Logan and I came under scrutiny.”
Sheila sipped and nodded at the same time. Her plum lipstick left a rim on the mug. “Martin caused it.”
Hana cocked her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“After twenty seven years of marriage, the bugger cheated on me. Apparently it isn’t the first time.”
“Martin!” Hana gaped. An image of Sheila’s flaccid husband rose into her mind, his unattractive comb-over and wobbling jowls an unwelcome picture. “Are you sure?”
“Did you know the board dismissed him?” Sheila waded on and Hana shook her head. “They caught four of them at it and terminated all their contracts!”
Hana let out a gasp. “Actually at it? Like an orgy! Of old people!” She pushed her cup away. “That’s disgusting. Who knew? At a Christian school too.”
“Not actually engaged in the act kind of ‘at it’, Hana.” Sheila winced. “Just having affairs or involvements against their employment contracts.” She pursed her lips. “That dreadful Caroline’s gone. She had an affair with a sports teacher. You know who I mean. He wore stubby shorts and loved himself. I grew suspicious of Martin just after she arrived and thought for a while she might be his mistress. Perhaps even she wouldn’t stoop that low.”
“Did they fire Chris Carter?” Hana asked.
Sheila shook her head. “No. Angus took pity on him. The silly man claimed Caroline initiated it and he promised to undergo counselling. He won’t get a second chance though.”
Hana cringed. “I wonder if he gets a second chance in his marriage. I couldn’t give him one.” She swallowed. “Didn’t his poor wife just give birth to a baby girl?”
Sheila shrugged. “I think so. They fired Martin and his mistress. Angus said the board considered all the facts and decided a seven-year affair constituted gross misconduct. I suppose against the backdrop of that, Chris Carter’s couple of indiscretions paled in significance.”
“Seven years?” Hana’s jaw dropped open. “With someone else at work?” Her voice rose an octave and other customers turned to stare.
Sheila nodded. “I felt such a fool. Annemarie Baggs from the social studies department is older than me.” Her new image drooped. “A board member saw her and Martin at a golf club having dinner and followed them to a hotel. That’s when they decided to enforce our employment contracts. The trouble is it’s caused so much fallout.”
Hana leaned back in her chair. “I thought they did it because of Anka.”
“What about her?” Sheila finished her coffee.
“Nothing.” Hana offered a sad smile. “Tell me how you are. What will happen to your marriage now?”
Sheila waved a hand in dismissal. “Over. Martin Jennings is history. I’ve sold the house and we signed the contracts on Friday. The lawyer halved everything and Martin didn’t challenge it. I’m moving in with Rory.” Sheila grinned at Hana’s look of disbelief. “It’s fine, Hana. We’ve done a lot of talking. They bought our house and I’m moving into the granny flat. We can still be separate but I’m there if they need me.”
“What will Martin do?” Hana asked. “Where will he go?”
“Not with his fancy woman.” Sheila snorted. “She lost interest as soon as he became available. It seems she likes her independence far too much to endure Martin’s toenail clippings in the bath. That’s the irony. She liked the affair because it meant she didn’t need to commit. She only wanted a bit of company to break up the monotony, in return for the odd shag.”
Hana sighed. “What a foolish man. I hope it
proved worth it.”
Sheila patted the table with her hand. “Martin bloody Jennings is not the reason I wanted to meet. I called into work on Friday and found a right mess. Pete’s used my office like a bunk room and the department looked closed. I’ve promised Angus I’ll start back on Monday. He said you’re on sick leave but I can’t manage without you. Do you think you could come back early? I figured Pete’s leadership sent you off on stress leave. It’s not something serious though, is it?”
Hana shook her head. The tale stretched out behind her, too long and complicated for a coffee meeting. Sheila leaned forward. “Please, Hana. George left me a hysterical voicemail about the woodworking equipment I approved. I’m scared of what I might find.”
“I sorted that out.” Hana sighed. “I remote onto the server every night and Pete’s signing whatever they put in front of him.”
Sheila clapped a hand over her mouth. “He can’t sign everything! I’ll have no budget left!”
“It’s okay, I check it. I’ve said no to a few of them already.” Hana licked her lips. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, Sheila. I don’t have time to go into it all now, but I’m happy for you to speak to Angus about it.” She ran a hand over her face and tiredness descended like a familiar cloak.
Sheila clasped her wrist. “You’re not sick, are you?”
“No.” Hana sighed. “It’s much more complicated than that. I’ll speak to my husband and get back to you. That’s the best I can offer for now.”
Sheila’s chair squealed on the tiles as she scooted closer, her eyes widening in shock. She swore before demanding, “What bloody husband?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Hana returned home to find a pair of bright red gumboots on the porch. She unlocked the door with a ridiculous degree of caution, catching herself sneaking into her own home. “It’s me,” she called, listening for a reply and hearing her pulse pound in her ears.
“I guessed.” Logan leaned against the kitchen doorframe, his dark fringe over one eye. Sex appeal oozed from every pore. He’d dressed and the lack of pyjamas created an illusion of health. “Maihi’s here.”