by K T Bowes
“Yes.” Hana nodded. “It’ll help me. I can’t mow all this.” They set off walking again. “I own land I don’t need and you could make use of it. Makes perfect sense. It’s the house and location I wanted.”
“What is the rent?” Maihi demanded and Hana shook her head.
“Nothing. I don’t want you to pay. You’re a friend.” The ground went from beneath her and Hana slid past Maihi on her backside, unable to stop. She picked herself up, brushing muck off the back of her shorts and dying of embarrassment inside. She spun on the spot and noticed a clump of grass stuck to her butt like a green tail.
Maihi waited until she stopped spinning and seized Hana by the shoulders. “I visited you to quell my bitterness and because it affected my mana so. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you and your tāne but this is my reward.” She suffocated Hana in her copious bosom and sniffed with emotion. Hana felt the unfamiliar glow of acceptance and kissed Maihi’s cheek. The physical contact made her miss her mother with a jolt of pain.
Maihi let go and they slipped and slid down to Culver’s Cottage. The cuttings drooped in the plastic bag and the women planted them into the new flowerbeds. Hana cut slits in the weed mat with Maihi’s pocket knife. “What’s mana?” she asked as they worked side by side. “I kinda know the principle of it and I realise it sounds ridiculous, but I know what it looks like in a person. I know Logan has it, but not how he got it.”
“Understood.” Maihi plunged a daisy into the hole she dug with a small trowel. She rocked back on her heels. “It’s linked to our spirit and increases depending on our standing within our community. It represents our prestige and authority. A person is born with a degree of mana which is linked to their whakapapa. If their ancestors were known for great mana, it passes to them.”
“Ah, like Logan’s grandmother?” Hana asked. “People still talk about her.”
“Yes, like that.” Maihi shoved the next plant into its new resting place. “You can accrue mana for yourself though, through your actions and behaviour. It’s about what people say of you. Logan has great mana. You can just tell.”
Hana nodded. “Yes, I know what you mean.”
“The ethos and conduct of a group also raises the mana of those involved. Offering great hospitality will make people speak well of you and that’s just as important.”
Hana cocked her head and stared at Maihi. “You have mana. So does Logan. Can I get it?”
The old woman’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know kōtiro.” She chuckled. “He has enough to spare.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Hana muttered and Maihi nudged her arm with dirty hands.
“The secret is not to seek it, child. If you’re meant to have it, it will find you.”
Maihi left after the planting, refusing the offer of a hot drink. She said she wanted to go home and tell her husband the good news about Hana’s offer of grazing. The air grew bitter cold as she set off up the slope and Hana went inside.
Logan sat at the kitchen table, looking refreshed. Hana put her cold arms around his shoulders and leaned her face against the back of his neck. She held her filthy hands away from him. “Hey gorgeous,” she whispered into his warm skin. He smelled soapy and his dark hair dripped on her cheek. His fingers sought the back of her neck and he massaged it gently.
“The jug’s hot,” he said and Hana glanced at the steaming kettle.
“I’ll wash my hands and make tea.” She peered into his cup. “Do you want another coffee?”
Logan shook his head. “Na thanks.” His eyes narrowed as he stared at her back. “Hana! Your ass is disgusting! Did you go mud-sliding?”
Hana felt behind at the crusty mess and groaned. “No, I made a flower bed,” she replied.
Logan shook his head in confusion. “With your backside?”
Hana left the kettle to boil and shook her head. “No. My hands. I’ll grab a shower first.”
She stood in the shower and let the hot water slap the back of her head. The door clicked as Logan let himself in. “I made you a cup of tea,” he said and she heard the clunk as he put it on the sink. “How was your afternoon?”
“Good,” she replied, turning off the water so she could lather herself with soap. “How do you feel?”
“Much better.” Logan sat on the stool in the corner. “Those pills are good. They relaxed my muscles, so the pain is heaps better.” He sighed. “As soon as I get rid of one problem, another appears around the corner.”
“Thanks for cleaning the bathroom,” Hana said, turning the water back on and missing Logan’s reply. The scent of household cleaner overpowered the small room.
“I’m sorry about before,” he said as she stepped over the side of the bath and swished back the curtain. Logan stood and wrapped a towel around her. He swaddled her up and pulled her against his chest. “I remember getting impatient with you. I shouldn’t have.”
“It’s fine. You looked in agony. I forgive you.” She closed her eyes against his chest and inhaled his musky scent. “I wonder how much the surgery will charge for the home visit.” She chewed her lip and contemplated an astronomical medical invoice. “Carlos charged nothing for the prescription.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad he came.” Logan grabbed a smaller towel and used it to squeeze water from the ends of Hana’s hair. His tender action melted her heart. “He’s a good bloke.” He kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for going to town for the medication,” he said, his voice soft. “You put yourself at risk.” Hana inhaled through her nose and then held the breath. She sensed the atmosphere change as Logan leaned back to look into her eyes. “Are you gonna tell me what happened?”
She blew out through her lips. “How do you know anything happened?”
He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “Don’t bother lying, wahine. You think I won’t know?”
“I didn’t want to worry you.” She pouted and her lips formed a hard line. “The men turned up in town and I ran away.”
“Tell me you called the cops?”
“No!” she snapped. “I tried to remember the registration number for the car but forgot by the time I drove home. They didn’t believe me last time, so I figured they wouldn’t this time either. The man with the Asian features had a dragon tattooed on his wrist.”
“Bloody hell, Hana!” Logan raised his voice. “Did they follow you home?”
“No!” She gave him a rough shove, regretting it as he hissed in pain. “Sorry. I left you rolling around the floor in agony. I had different priorities at the time.” Her towel slipped and she grappled with it, her fingers shaking as she covered herself.
Logan’s face softened and he reached up to touch her damp curls. His complete change of subject floored her. “Hana stop hiding. You’re beautiful.”
“I’ve got stretch marks!” she retorted and stomped from the room. Logan heard the bedroom door shut behind her and bit his lip.
“Yeah, and I’ve kissed most of them,” he sighed. He lifted his phone from his pants pocket and dialled.
Hana sulked in the bedroom and made her decision about returning to work. With the men as close as Ngaruawahia, it wasn’t safe. Logan’s reaction irritated her and she tried to shake it off. “It’s because I care,” he told her later, putting her cooling cup of tea on the bedside table.
“I texted Sheila,” she admitted. “I won’t go back yet.”
Logan nodded. “I’m relieved.” He smirked, one corner of his lip hiking upwards as a mischievous expression crossed his handsome face. “I can keep you busy here.” He tugged at her pyjama shirt, wrinkling his nose at the faded monkeys.
“You’re supposed to be sick!” Hana squealed as he attacked her pyjama pants. “You’re insatiable.”
“I want to show you what I think of those stretch marks,” he muttered, rubbing his beard against her bare ribs.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Hana slept late again the next day and awoke feeling gro
ggy. The sun peeked through a gap in the curtains and scattered light over her fiery hair draped across the pillow. Before she even fixed her feet to the rug, she decided to spend the day working on her garden.
In the kitchen, she found Logan on the telephone. He broke off his conversation to kiss her cheek and then ended the call. Already dressed, he looked healthier but still thin and gaunt.
Hana filled the kettle and flicked the switch, leaning back against the counter to face Logan. “Who was that?” she asked.
Logan shrugged. “My father.” He jerked his head towards the window. “Maihi will be glad of the extra grass. He says it will be a bad winter this year.” He seemed edgy and Hana watched his jerky movements with suspicion.
“What are you up to?”
“Me?” He smirked. “Nothing, babe.”
“Whatever.” Hana narrowed her eyes. “You know I’ll find out.” The cat shot under the kitchen table as she squealed. Logan chased her back into the bedroom. Tiger sat beneath Logan’s abandoned chair and licked pork fat from his coat. He liked the men who arrived in the bush after dark. A ute dropped them off and they hiked the Hakarimata Trail before dropping down the ridge and tracking their way to the house. Expensive GPS guided their steps. They set up their camp with soundless expertise and killed a wild pig using a bow and arrow. The cat fed on the scraps from their meal as they took turns on watch.
Maihi’s cuttings looked limp from their transplant and Hana watered them. Then she pottered around tidying other flowerbeds. Logan sat on the porch steps watching her and enjoying the sunshine on his face. “This is weird,” he sighed. “I’m not used to sitting on my backside.”
Hana turned soil with a pitchfork and defined the edges of the beds with a spade. “Enjoy it. You’ll be back at work soon enough.” She wrinkled her nose. “I wish I could visit a garden centre. I’ve run out of weed mat and it looks so bare.”
“No,” Logan said and Hana raised her hand in protest.
“I won’t actually go,” she replied, her tone barbed. “I’m not stupid!”
“Behave wahine,” he warned her and Hana pouted. Logan rose and rubbed a hand across his stomach. “I’ll take a walk to the bush line. I need the exercise.”
“Are you sure?” Hana shoved her fork into the soil. “I’ll come with you.”
Logan shook his head and set off walking. “I won’t be long and I’ve got my phone.” He waved the device in his hand and disappeared around the side of the house.
Hana glanced up at intervals, watching Logan’s progress up the right-hand side of the paddock. She saw him halt and waited, shielding her eyes from the sun. When he lifted his hand to his ear, she guessed he made a call. Reaching for her phone on the top step of the porch, she waited for him to ring her but it remained dark and silent. Hana watched as he continued walking and put her phone back with a shrug. When his hands swung loose by his sides, she guessed she imagined it. She looked up again and he’d disappeared.
Logan returned looking flushed and relaxed. “I enjoyed that,” he said, running his right hand through his hair. The walk did him good. He went back inside to make a drink, kicking his gumboots off on the porch. Hana noticed fern roots in the grips of the soles.
“You went into the bush?” she called after him, receiving no reply. “Why?” Still no answer.
The sound of the intercom bleeped from inside and Hana screamed. She dropped the pitchfork, almost sending the prongs through her foot. “Logan!” Her voice broke and she tripped up the first two steps, landing on her hands and knees. “Logan!”
He met her at the top of the stairs, shocked by her white face and wide, staring eyes. His fingers gripped her shoulders. “It’s okay, Hana. I know who it is.”
She shook her head from side to side, her ponytail swishing against her back. “No! No, they’ve found us, Logan they’ve found us!” She writhed in his arms and he winced as his elbow responded with darts of pain.
“Hana!” His voice sounded sharp and she stared up at him in bewilderment. “It’s. Fine.” He spoke through gritted teeth and stopped her bolting at the sound of an engine struggling against the hill. She wriggled from his grasp and hid behind the front door as Logan shoved his feet back into his boots. Going down the steps, he walked to the top of the drive ready to greet the guest. Hana watched the flat backed truck labour the last of the driveway, stopping with a shudder at the top.
A man clambered from the driver’s seat and shook Logan’s hand. “Kia ora,” he said with a wide smile. His tanned face oozed joviality. Despite the autumnal day, he dressed in stubby shorts and a muscle top. A boy around twelve years old emerged from the passenger side of the truck and helped to unload the wares. Hana ventured onto the deck as Logan’s gifts waved in the breeze.
He turned to her with hope in his eyes. “Did I get the right stuff?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She watched the unloading process and nodded to her husband. Small bushes and flowering plants came off the truck and sat around the driveway like a speechless audience. Hana ran a shaking hand across her forehead, feeling beads of sweat budding at her hairline.
“Can you let the guys out?” Logan asked and she nodded. Her vision blurred as she stepped back inside the house and listened to the truck engine roar to life. She leaned her forehead against the wall and heard the delivery driver’s cheery goodbye. Counting to twenty before she pressed the gate release, Hana let go of the button and bent at the waist. Blood rushed to her head and she stemmed the feeling of nausea.
“I can’t live like this,” she groaned, forcing herself upright. The need to appreciate Logan’s thoughtful gift drove her outside again.
“Want help to plant these?” Logan asked, clutching his stomach and moving the plant pots one handed. He glanced back at her, looking for her approval. Hana opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Her lips felt numb and her teeth chattered. “Hana?” Logan moved up the steps towards her, his face creased in concern. “Hana?”
She buried her face into Logan’s sweater, reminding herself to breathe. Her face muscles refused to perform and express the gratitude he awaited. Nothing. The emptiness spread from the centre of her chest and tracked towards her head and feet simultaneously. Logan shook her shoulders and she felt the tugging motion, her head growing too heavy on her neck to respond.
Then it came. The nausea rose into her throat and the headache thrummed across her temples. Hana saw sunbursts behind her retinas and held her breath, praying it would pass. When the nothingness sucked her down, relief replaced her fear.
Logan grappled as Hana fell, managing to get his arms around her limp torso to break her fall. His broken arm couldn’t straighten and it pulled his body sideways with a hiss of pain. She sank to the deck as a dead weight and her head hit the wooden boards with a dull thunk. “Geez, Hana, what are you doing?” He knelt beside her, calling her name and rubbing her cheeks. “Hana? Hana, what’s wrong?”
She twitched at the sound of her name but then remained still and silent. Her shallow breaths frightened him and the pulse in her neck betrayed a faint heartbeat. Logan scrabbled in his pocket for his phone and his fingers removed the screen lock with frustrating slowness. He cursed the restrictive cast on his dominant arm. Hana groaned and her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks.
She opened her eyes. Thinking herself in bed, she gave Logan a sweet smile. The hard boards beneath her spine confused her and his face hovered above. Hana opened her mouth to speak and saw the blue sky above. “I’m outside,” she said, surprise in her voice.
“Steady, steady.” His voice cracked. She flailed in panic and Logan helped her to a sitting position, leaning her sideways against the balustrade where she slumped like a rag doll. A quick body check revealed a pervading nausea and leaning between the rails, Hana threw up over Maihi’s wilted cuttings.
Logan rubbed her back as she retched, shock dilating his pupils to obliterate the stormy grey irises. “Maybe I shouldn’t buy you st
uff,” he joked, a tremble in his voice. Relief coursed through him when she shook her head in objection. “I didn’t mean to make you pass out.”
Hana blew through pursed lips and her fingers grappled to hold onto the side rail. “Sorry,” she whispered and her other hand streaked sweat across her brow. “I don’t know what happened.”
“You scared the crap out of me, that’s what happened.” Logan laughed but it sounded hollow against the backdrop of birdsong. He jerked his head towards the open front door. “Why don’t you go and lie down?”
Hana shook her head. “I’m fine.” She rubbed her eyes and willed the buzzing in her ears to leave. “The fresh air is helping.”
“What do you think caused it?” Logan left his squatting position and sank onto the deck next to her. “Was it the delivery truck? You looked terrified.”
Hana nodded. “I think that started it. My heart beat so fast and then it just didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
Hana shrugged. “I don’t know. Just let me sit here for a minute and then I’ll do some gardening. I want to be outside.”
Logan opened his mouth to argue and thought better of it. “Would a hot drink help?” He got to his feet as Hana nodded and kicked his boots off. She heard him pad to the door and closed her eyes. Without his concerned gaze unnerving her, she leaned her head against the railings and concentrated on regaining her equilibrium.
Logan fetched her tea and a sugary biscuit. Hana sat on the steps and watched him plant one-handed as she directed like an orchestra conductor. “How did you know what to choose?” she asked as he buried the roots of a rhododendron under compost. “And how did you think of getting compost and bark chips and stuff?”
“I gave them my credit card number and left it up to them.” Logan patted the soil over the roots and stood. “You like what they chose?”
“Yeah!” Hana exclaimed. “It looks amazing already.”