by K T Bowes
“But you did?” Hana’s face creased into a sneer.
Michael shook his head and a grin settled over his features. “I never made any promises. I loved the sex but not the consequences.”
Hana swallowed and bit her tongue to halt the need to question him. She wanted to know, yet suspected it might harm her. Michael jerked his head towards the bathroom. “Logan always wanted kids.”
Hana let out a snort of derision despite herself. “Oh, right. That’s why he ran away from the idea. I mistook it for horror.”
“You’re wrong.” Michael sighed. “Very wrong. Not wanting something and giving up on it are two very different things.”
Hana felt pressure behind her eyes and dared the tears not to come, gritting her teeth and squeezing every muscle in her body until she resembled a statue. Michael rose and approached the bed. For a horrid moment, Hana imagined he might fumble an inappropriate embrace but instead, he reached for her wrist. “Stop tensing,” he said, his voice gentle. “You’ll make it worse.” He pressed his fingers over her pulse and studied his wristwatch. Hana lasted half a minute before pulling her hand away.
“Please can you lend me money for a taxi?” she asked.
“No.” Michael dropped his hands to his sides. “Give him a chance.” He left the bedroom, closing the door behind him with a click.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Hana sat in the kitchen and peeled potatoes for Miriam. The mindless action stopped her fretting and the rhythm calmed her nerves. She practiced peeling the whole thing in one brown coil, failing at every attempt. Each new potato represented a fresh start. Hana dropped her latest victim into the pail with a thud. Miriam glanced across at her from her own pile. “You done?” she demanded, gratified by Hana’s nod.
Logan’s entry into the kitchen set Hana’s heart racing again. Rejection flared her anger and she tensed, forcing a disinterested look on her face. Miriam turned to face him, taking in the dishevelled appearance and the black dust on his fingers. “You saw them?” she asked.
“Yeah, I saw them.” Logan slumped into a chair next to Hana, his eyebrow rising at the way she scooted her chair aside.
“I’ll fetch more potatoes.” Hana spoke to Miriam and stood, ignoring Logan. He put a hand out and grabbed hers, folding her fingers into his palm with an iron grip. Left with no other choice, Hana sat again.
“Did you sort it?” Miriam persisted. Her face expression softened. “Youse got gun grease on your cast.” She jerked her head towards the plaster encasing Logan’s left arm and he scowled.
“Jack can saw the bloody thing off,” he said, examining a space where it had crumbled near the edge. “A hacksaw should do it.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Miriam snorted and wrinkled her nose. Logan pouted like a child and Hana hid her smirk behind a cough. She shook her fingers, but he didn’t let go.
The leaden atmosphere became unbearable and Hana panicked. The gun residue on Logan’s fingers transferred to hers and the association terrified her. He’d sorted the men with guns and she didn’t wish to know how. When Miriam rose to add her potatoes to the mountain on the draining board, Hana gave an almighty yank of her hand and kicked Logan in the shin. “Get off me!” she hissed.
Surprise made him sloppy and he released her, swearing as Hana bolted for the door. Longer legged and faster, Logan knew the house and caught her in seconds. He pulled her into the empty guest lounge and closed the door behind him. Resting his backside against the scarred wood, he folded his arms and observed Hana as she regrouped and considered her options. “It’s locked,” he said, quirking an eyebrow as her gaze slid towards the outer door. “So you need to listen to my apology.”
“Apology?” Rage back lit Hana’s green eyes. “You think?”
Logan cocked his head. “Yeah. I think I need to apologise and I think you need to listen. So, that’s an affirmative on both.”
Hana eyed the French doors with growing interest. She noticed an old key dangling from a hook on the wall and her escape presented itself. Distracted, she wasted her opportunity as Logan’s arms fixed around her. “I’m sorry. Let’s do the test. I needed time to get used to the idea that’s all.”
“The idea I might be expecting your baby?” Hana replied, her tone laced with bitterness.
“No!” Logan countered. “Time to get used to the idea you might not be. I thought we’d never have kids. I wanted space to imagine what it could be like. I’m okay now. I can face it.”
“You can face it?” She jabbed him in the chest. “I’m thrilled for you. Now let me out of this room before I scream the place down.”
“Let’s do the test.” Logan’s eyes burned into her soul.
“I can’t,” she replied, a sharp edge to her tone. She extracted herself from his grip and at the same time, noticed the raw skin on his knuckles. “What did you do?” She snatched at his hand and turned it over. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.” Logan wiped his hand on his shirt and placed his palm against the door in front of her face. His arm kept it closed against Hana’s attempts to pull on the handle. “Why can’t you do the test? I can get another if it’s broken.”
“It’s not broken.” Hana sighed and rested her body against the wall. The jelly legs returned and she closed her eyes. “I used it.”
“Without me?” Shame sent a pink flush up the sides of Logan’s neck and his lips parted in dismay. “You didn’t wait?”
Hana shook her head, hearing her hair swish against the thick flock wallpaper. “You forfeit that right when you walked out.”
“I didn’t walk out! I said I needed time.” Logan’s tone rumbled with a manic kind of danger and Hana tensed and opened her eyes.
“I’d love some time too,” she snarled. “It’s my body but when do I get time to deal with it all? When, Logan?”
“It’s positive?” The grin spread across his face and Hana wanted to slap him until he understood her powerlessness. He saw children and the possibility of an heir to his peculiar whakapapa. She saw risky months ahead in her ageing body and the certainty of disappointment. She turned away from his question. Her children and everyone else would know she’d spent the last month romping around the bedroom with her virile husband. Flashing her stretch marks and conceiving a baby. Hana leaned forward and rested her palms on her knees.
“I can’t do it,” she groaned.
“You can’t have the baby?” Logan panicked and seized her shoulders. “You have to.”
Hana slapped his hand away. The effort of explaining seemed to take energy she didn’t have and she shook her head. A flicker of relief congratulated her that Logan wouldn’t expect her to terminate the pregnancy. Like Izzie, she couldn’t, anyway.
A single tear rolled down her cheek and she tried to suppress the sob which followed. Logan stroked her hair as she bent over the carpet and took deep breaths. “Do you feel sick?” he asked, his tone exuding sympathy and fear.
“Not in the way you think,” Hana sniffed. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Only in my heart. I’m too old, Logan. I can’t carry this baby. It’ll end in disaster.” A tear plopped onto her jeans, creating a darker patch in the fabric. The liquid spread and Hana watched as another joined it.
“Oh, Hana!” Heartbreak poured from Logan’s soul as he comforted her. “I know nothing about having babies or child rearing, but people in worse shape than you manage okay. It is daunting, but let’s not write this little Du Rose off yet. We’ve got good genes.”
Hana blew out through pursed lips and afforded herself a smirk. Logan’s ego covered her in a sheen of confidence and he pulled her upright. When he gathered her into his chest, she didn’t resist. His words hit the pit of her stomach like stones. “I can’t believe I’ll be a dad,” he breathed. “My parents will be stoked.”
“No!” Hana pulled away. “You can’t tell anyone. Are you not listening to me?” Pressure built up behind her eyes and the buzz
began in her forehead again. She scrabbled for a handful of Logan’s shirt to prevent the faintness taking hold. His fingers around her wrist felt firm and safe. “You tell no one for another few months. Promise?”
Logan nodded with knitted brows and straight-lipped expression. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what I need!” Hana swallowed and fixed him in a dead stare. “I mean it. Nobody. If the worst happens, I don’t want to explain to everyone why I’m sad or ill. Do you understand?” Logan nodded again, a childish hope in his wide grey eyes.
“Okay. I promise.”
Hana relaxed and let go of his shirt. Exhaustion nipped at her legs like an irritating puppy. Miriam’s voice called along the corridor. “Hana! Want some kai?”
Logan opened the door and Hana slipped through the gap. “Just tea please,” she said, hearing the tremble in her voice. Miriam gave a cursory nod and noticed Logan emerge behind his wife. Her eyebrow rose in a complete misinterpretation of their reason for hiding behind a closed door. She huffed and shook her head. “Like father, like son,” she muttered.
They sat in the kitchen and Hana pushed weak tea down her throat, praying the nausea wouldn’t reoccur. Michael’s presence turned her stomach further, his admission increasing her sympathy for Logan. “How are you now?” he asked, staring at her with a doctor’s eye.
“Better,” she lied and averted her gaze.
Michael turned his attention to Logan, noticing his oozing knuckles. His lips turned up in a grin. “Who’d you slap?” he demanded.
Logan stiffened and replied in Māori. Michael shook his head. “English, dickhead. You know I hate that language.”
Miriam turned and eyeballed Logan. “Don’t start,” she warned.
“Who did you hit?” Michael repeated his question and Hana saw the lie form on her husband’s lips.
“Nobody you know,” he growled and the cuts leaked as he balled his fists. “But you can be next.”
Michael crinkled his regal nose. “Whatever dude. You should cover those grazes though. I can write you a private prescription for some of the stuff you snort. Cost you seventy bucks.”
“Shut up.” Hana rose to Logan’s defence. She imagined Logan’s pain at discovering Michael’s indiscretion with Caroline and hurt for him. Nobody deserved that.
Michael shrugged. “You know the truth now then? Factor 8 deficiency is a bitch.”
Miriam dropped a saucepan into the sink and the kitchen girls scattered. They fled the room on the pretext of fabricated chores. “All of you shut up!” Her rigid body seemed to rock in place and crabbed hands gripped the side of the Belfast sink. “Logan’s fine. He can’t have it so stop saying it.” Wild grey eyes roved to Michael’s face and Hana swallowed at Miriam’s unhinged expression.
“Calm down Mother.” Michael’s retort sent Miriam into orbit and she attacked him with outstretched, clawing fingers.
“Shut up!” she screamed. “Shut up!”
Hana inhaled and pressed her back against the chair. She scooted, so it touched the cupboard behind her and hunched her body up small. Logan blocked Miriam’s attack and his mother wrenched herself free, hauling the heavy fire door open with gargantuan strength. He heaved out a breath as she left and rubbed the space on his stomach where their bodies collided. “Happy now?” He rounded on Michael and his brother laughed.
“It’s always about Barry,” he sneered. “I’m sick of it. She did nothing for us as kids. Don’t you remember, Logan? Nobody came to parents’ evenings, nobody saw us graduate. Not her, that’s for sure.”
“She can’t help it. If you only came here to cause trouble, bugger off.” Logan held his hand out to Hana and she saw his distraction. His eyes looked bright and happy like shiny grey pebbles. Hope rolled off him in waves at the thought of a child. She accepted his hand and left the kitchen.
“Your mother never acknowledged your illness?” she said on the main stairs.
Logan shrugged. “Would you?”
“I don’t understand.” Hana paused with one hand in Logan’s and the other clasping the ornate bannister rail.
“It’s genetic. Mum’s a carrier and she passed it to Barry and me. It’s largely a male disease but the females pass it on.”
Hana closed her eyes. “She blames herself for your brother’s death?”
“Yep.” Logan’s brows knitted and he glanced at her stomach. He swallowed but spared her the obvious deduction. Any female child ran the risk of carrying the gene for haemophilia. Hana’s fingers released the bannister and strayed to cover her abdomen, defending a child she only just discovered existed. Maternal instinct kicked in despite her desire to remain unattached and protect herself from pain. Logan watched the movement of her hand and pursed his lips.
He put sheets on his childhood bed, forcing Hana to wait in the chair by the window until he finished. Then he lay on the bed next to her and stroked her hair. “It will be okay,” he promised, his tone soft as Hana drifted into sleep.
She woke hearing Logan speaking into his mobile phone. He’d replaced his muscular chest with a pillow and Hana snuffled against the squishy surface. “Can you feed the cat?” she heard him say. “Your mother’s door keys are in the hall drawer. Drop them in to the lady next door and she’ll sort out the rest; I already spoke to her.” His voice sounded soft and lyrical. “Yeah, we decided to stay here for a while.” He noticed Hana watching him and blew her a kiss. “Oh, don’t go next door in uniform. It won’t go down well.” When he finished the call, Logan sat on the bed next to her. “Bodie said he’ll take Jas to ours. That means we’ll arrive home to wilted flowers and odd bits of pebble on our pillows.”
Hana pushed herself to a sitting position and leaned back against the headboard. “I feel okay. Let’s just go home.”
“No.” Logan stroked her hair back from her forehead. “You don’t look well and a few days away from the stress of hiding ourselves will be good for you.”
Hana pouted. “I want to go home. Here is much more stressful.”
“It won’t be.” Logan stood and answered a knock on the bedroom door. “Hi, Ma,” he said, standing back.
“Does your hoa wahine want some kai?” Miriam poked her head through the door and Hana gave her a pathetic wave.
“Sure. I’ll come down and fetch something.” Logan closed the door behind him, leaving Hana alone. She climbed out of bed and used the bathroom.
Hana assumed the knock on the door heralded Logan bearing a plate of food. She guessed he’d leave the wine downstairs in view of her pregnancy news. “You were quick,” she commented, opening the door. Michael’s sanctimonious grin met her.
“Nobody’s said that to me before.”
“Ugh!” Hana let the door go and Michael dodged into the room before it closed.
Five minutes later, Logan stiffened as he returned with food for her. Michael clapped him on the shoulder as he left. “Don’t worry, bro’. Just checking your chick’s pulse and stuff.”
Logan glared at his retreating back. “Yeah, it’s the ‘and stuff’ that bothers me.”
Hana sighed at the hiking tension. Logan’s stiff shoulders induced an unwelcome sense of foreboding. “He did check my pulse. And my blood pressure. He knows better than to try anything with me.”
“Ma sent casserole.” Logan held the plate out to her and Hana spent the next ten minutes chasing carrots around it.
“I’m not hungry,” she conceded. “And we can’t stay here. I didn’t bring any clothes.”
Logan took the plate away and gave her a lascivious smile. “Doesn’t matter to me.” He dipped forward and nibbled her neck.
“Not just for night time. What do I wear tomorrow?”
Logan wrinkled his nose. “Liza left some clothes next door. Want to come and see?”
“Okay, but she’s taller than me. It won’t work.”
Logan pressed the code into the keypad and pushed open the door. He flicked on
the light. Hana followed, stepping into the room as though fearful Liza might jump from behind the door. “Are you sure she won’t mind?” Hana whispered.
“She won’t know.” Logan opened the wardrobe door and rifled through the hangers. “She doesn’t visit often and probably can’t remember what she left here.”
Hana fingered a pair of jodhpurs on a shelf. “If we must stay, can we ride up to your paddock tomorrow? I can turn the bottoms of these over a few times.”
“No way!” Logan dropped a pullover on the floor of the wardrobe. “Don’t be stupid.”
Hana stiffened and her green eyes flashed. “Don’t you dare wrap me in cotton wool, Logan Du Rose.” Her fists balled by her sides and she took a step back. “Fine. Take me home right now.”
“No.” Logan reached for her and she dodged his outstretched hand.
“It’s my body and I will do everything I want to.” Hana scowled. “I wish I never told you.”
Logan swallowed. “But it’s risky. You might damage yourself or the baby.”
“Don’t!” Hana raised her hand. “If this child isn’t strong enough to hold on, it isn’t meant to be. I refuse to allow you to hold me responsible.” Her voice wavered as her courage failed. She spun from the room and slammed the door behind her.
She found an old tee shirt of Logan’s to sleep in and snuggled under the covers before he returned. Dull clunks and thuds from next door betrayed his search for borrowed clothing. He went downstairs for a while and the click of the door startled Hana awake. “Sorry.” He sounded miserable and Hana sighed.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m trying to stop you hurting if it all goes wrong.” Hana rolled onto her back. “I’m forty-five years old, Logan. I have a granddaughter with Downs syndrome and I feel much too old to have a baby.”
The bed dipped as Logan sat down. “But it’s my only experience of being a father.” He reached for Hana’s hand beneath the covers. “Even if it doesn’t last long, I want to enjoy it.”
Hana clamped her teeth over her lower lip, holding her breath to prevent him hearing her desperation. Tears dripped down her face and into her ears. An immovable blockage lay in her heart like a lead weight concerning her child. She couldn’t risk loving it when it might be short-lived. Hana sought to protect herself, knowing it was futile.