by Bowes, K T
“You’ve got a house full. Maybe I should stay at the hotel.”
Hana pulled a face. “I’ll put Wiri in with Phoe for a few days and you can have Tama’s room. He isn’t planning to visit for a few months.”
“Who’s Wiri?” Mark’s head jerked up in surprise, his green eyes wide with enquiry. “Where do you find these people?”
“It’s complicated.” Hana slumped onto the bed, wincing as her jeans tightened against her bruises. She pushed her fingers through a gaping rip on the inner left thigh. “Wiri belongs to Logan’s half-brother, Neville Du Rose. He’s five and stays with us at the moment. His mother suffered a mental breakdown and can’t seem to climb back out of the pit for long enough to take her son home.”
Mark sighed and ran long fingers through his greying hair. “Yeah. It’s like that sometimes. You hit rock bottom and can’t get back up again.”
“Are you speaking from experience?” Hana’s voice sounded soft. “Because if you are, I hope you know you can talk to me.”
Mark nodded. “After you left and then Mum died, my marriage broke up and I couldn’t get access to the boys. Everything I ever strived for turned to ash in my hands and I got stuck in a dark ditch with no hope of digging my way out. It’s as debilitating as any physical illness, sapping the life out of you.”
“Mark,” Hana whispered, “do you feel like that now?”
His head shot up quickly, already shaking in denial. “No, love. Not at all. I’m perfectly fine; just maudlin over having been taken for a fool. A few days at your place staring at the Tasman Sea and I’ll be raring to go.” He fixed Hana with an unconvincing smile and slapped his hands on his thighs. “I’ll pack and head up sometime later today. That okay?”
“Course it is.” Hana smiled and let Mark wrap his arms around her. She held onto the lean body and wished back the wasted twenty-six years of not having the stubborn man in her life.
“Hana,” Mark mumbled, “I remember you telling me once that you suffered from depression. Was it because of me?”
Hana recalled the dark days of being a new mother at eighteen, robbed of family support because of Mark’s disgust. He carried her father along in his rage and Hana ended up alone, fumbling through a tenuous fledgling marriage like a blind man on a cliff. She picked her words with care. “I think a spirit of misery hangs over everyone at points in our lives. It was hard when Mum died but I didn’t go under then, no. It was after Vik died and I discovered he cheated. When the numbness wore off after the funeral it was replaced with excruciating pain.”
“I’m so sorry.” Mark’s head sunk further into Hana’s hair and she felt his body heave. She sat next to him on the bed and rubbed his back, saying nothing. Mark sniffed and wiped his eyes. “I behaved badly to you and I find it impossible to forgive myself. I’ve often wondered if the strain on Mum’s heart killed her. You came to ask your parents for help and I denied you that. Everything which unfolded from that moment is my fault. I’m such a fool.”
“We’ve done this, Mark. You’ve said sorry and I forgave you. Let’s not go back over it? Vik’s dead and I have Logan and two more beautiful children. I don’t harbour some awful seed of blame anymore, I promise. I think you’re trying too hard, love. You can’t recreate everything you lost in your first marriage with a woman like Anka. You’re snatching back things already long gone. Why don’t you relax, enjoy life and see what happens? It could be amazing if you stop hounding yourself. God makes all things new but we seem to think we can do it ourselves. I should know, I spent years giving it my best shot and still failed.”
Mark nodded and Hana fetched him a tissue for his weeping nose and he thanked her. “I thought Anka was sincere.”
“Yeah well so did Logan’s eighteen-year-old nephew when she introduced him to the hurts and marvels of an older woman. Poor Tama made a real mess of a year of his life because of her. For Anka, it was purely about the sex and the thrill of feeling needed, but Tama believed she was in it for marriage.”
“How’s Tama doing now?” Mark used the distraction to blow his nose and clean himself up.
“Yeah, good.” Pride crossed Hana’s face and made her glow. “He loves the fire service. It fulfils his need to be a hot hero, so he’s happy. He’s still messed up in the relationship department.” She frowned. “He broke up with his steady girlfriend at the end of last year and went off the rails again. He slept with six girls on a hen night at the hotel and got offside with Logan when they telephoned to book him again. I think he’s been putting it about liberally ever since.”
“Six girls on a hen night!” Mark looked in awe. “Half his luck! I don’t think I could manage more than one anymore.” He sighed and went back to his navel gazing.
“Pack it in!” Hana slapped his arm. “He’s looking for love, same as you. But neither of you are going the right way about it.”
“Maybe sleeping in his room will give me some ideas.” Mark smirked and Hana glared at him.
“It better not!”
The sound of the hotel door unlocking disturbed them and Mark scrubbed at his face to hide his weakness in the face of intimidating masculine strength. Hana shook her head at his need to straighten his ego and pulled the door open to allow Logan entry, chastened by the memory of the one time he broke in front of her. The hideous image of her husband’s tears left a lasting chill in Hana’s heart and her smile faltered.
Logan’s grey eyes sparkled as he handed Hana the brown paper bag filled with a warm bagel. He offered it like a sacrifice pulled from his soul and she smiled and reached up to kiss his cold lips. “Where did you go?”
“Bakery up the road. It’s freezing out there.” He looked around the room with eagerness and shifted on his boots with hyperactive impatience. “You ready to go?”
Mark cleared his throat and stood, taking a step towards Hana’s husband. “Thanks for looking after my sister.” He stretched out his hand and Logan looked at it in confusion before accepting the handshake, more as a reflex action than a decision. Suspicion weighed down any expression in Logan’s eyes as he searched for sarcasm or double meaning.
Hana blew out a breath of exasperation. “Mark’s got time on his hands. He wondered if he could come and stay with us for a few days.”
Logan looked at his wife, knowing the invitation was already given but sensing she wanted his stamp of approval. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he conceded, seeing the relief in Hana’s body language. She smiled at him and her green eyes sparkled with the promise of reward.
“I’ll head back to my room and grab my gear,” Mark said, sounding enthused. He kissed Hana on the top of her head and left, making little sound as he closed the heavy door behind him.
Logan observed Hana with interest as she exhibited familiar signs of stress, pressing the slender fingers of her right hand over the pacemaker under her left collarbone. He watched and waited as though she was a delicate filly he needed to understand before attempting to lay a saddle across her withers. Hana met his gaze with trepidation. “Anka really hurt him. He’s sounding depressed.”
Logan snorted and screwed up his face in disdain. “Don’t talk about her! I warned him, but he’s a sucker for a pretty face. I don’t want to hear about it.”
“Do you think she’s got a pretty face?” Hana pouted as jealousy took root.
Logan cast his eye around the room for stray belongings before settling narrowed eyes on his wife. Amusement radiated out and he laughed. “Not prettier than yours. Why? You jealous, makau?”
“Yes.” Hana smirked at Logan’s use of the Māori word for favourite and hung her head. She often used it for him, pleasing him with her attempted mastery of his language.
Logan took two strides to reach her, forcing her to meet his eyes. He bent and kissed her on the cheek, his unshaven face tickling her soft skin with its bristles. His lips lingered and Hana smelled the hotel shampoo on his hair as it brushed against her neck. Desire shot through her stomach like an arrow and she inhaled. “I need
to get back to the children,” she whispered. “And we only have the room for another half an hour.”
“I don’t need half an hour.” His soft lips on her skin made Hana swallow as they followed the roughness of his chin on her neck, arousing and soothing. Logan undressed her in the middle of the room, his fingers gentle on her cuts and scrapes as he removed her tee shirt and eased her out of her jeans. He picked up her slender frame and laid her on top of the expensive bedspread. Still fully dressed, he whispered, “You’re my wahine matua.” His lips moved down her body in a volley of sensuous kisses. “No other woman on Papa-tū-ā-nuku’s earth measures up to you.” He stripped his shirt and jeans off at speed, adding his boxer shorts to the pile on the floor.
Hana groaned as Logan’s fingers joined his lips, roving across her body in arcs of pleasure. A sharp rap on the door heralded a call of, “Housekeeping!” The owner of the voice rattled a key in the lock and Hana’s eyes widened in fear.
Logan swore and dived for the door, intercepting the uniformed maid in the gap. She squeaked at the sight of the tall, dark male oozing sex appeal and frustration in one confusing mix. The tiny Philippino woman cricked her neck to stare up at him, her face level with Logan’s muscular chest. “There’s no sign!” she said with indignation and Logan snatched the ‘Do Not Disturb’ notice from the hook and used it to cover his nakedness.
“Where would you like me to hang it?” he bit, barring her way.
The woman humphed and glared at him with irritation, noting the scars on his face and the unkempt dark hair and stubble. Her eyes wandered down his body and she took a step backwards. “Leave key at reception when you’re done,” she said, embarrassment colouring her olive skin.
Logan shut the door and leaned against it, trying to hold back the laughter bubbling in his chest. Hana groaned from under the sheet. “That was embarrassing.” She popped her face out, cheeks flaring red in discomfort. She pointed a shaking hand at her husband’s feet. “You would’ve got away with that if you didn’t have a hole in your sock.”
Logan glanced down and inspected his big toe through the torn fabric and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “You think she noticed my sock? Ah well, that’s my modelling career over then.”
Hana’s eyes poked over the top of the sheet and Logan narrowed his sexy grey eyes and let her enjoy the view for a moment. “Well, wahine matua, I’ll just have to start again.”
Hana giggled and dived under the bedsheets. Her voice sounded muffled. “I’m not your head wife, I’m your only wife. I won’t be sharing!”
Logan snorted as he slid beneath the bed covers, his nakedness radiating warm heat towards Hana. “Fine then,” he conceded as he pushed his fingers through the swathes of fabric until he felt the soft skin of her hip, “then you’ll just have to do twice as much work.”
Chapter 5
Conflict
“He’s sleeping but I’ll let him know you visited. What’s your name?”
“Hana Du Rose.” Hana’s voice sounded flat with disappointment as she viewed the comatose teenager in the bed. His ash blonde hair spread out across the white pillow, his complexion waxen and sick. Logan eyed Caleb’s face with a frown and then looked away, shifting impatiently on the soles of his cowboy boots. “When can he go home?” Hana asked and the nurse gave a bland smile.
“That’s up to the doctor. Come back later. Visiting’s from four until eight in the evening.”
Hana shook her head. “I live above Rangiriri and I’m going home today.” She glanced at Logan, who didn’t offer to bring her back. “I need to get back to my children.”
The nurse stopped shuffling paper on the desk and looked at Hana, her eyebrows raised in expectation. Having nothing left to say, Hana dropped her gaze and moved away. Logan remained silent as they faced the metal doors of the elevator and Hana shot nervous glances in her husband’s direction. “You don’t like him, do you?”
Logan’s grey eyes narrowed and he shrugged. “I have no feelings about him. He trespassed; he got hurt. What do you want from me, Hana?”
“I don’t know.” She pressed the call button again, willing the lift to hurry. The sound of grating mechanisms filled the air as the elevator responded and then stopped at a floor above. Hana released an exaggerated sigh and closed her eyes.
The journey north felt painful, the atmosphere inside the ute strained. Logan concentrated on the road, tapping an annoying beat on the steering wheel with his fingers and Hana chewed her lip and stared through the passenger window, watching the northernmost reaches of the Waikato whip past her window. “This winter feels endless.” Her voice sounded loud as she broke the silence and Logan nodded.
“It’s like that sometimes. The weather’s changed since we were kids.”
“About Caleb,” Hana began.
Logan shook his head. “I don’t wanna talk about him.” The impatience in his tone made Hana turn to face him.
“Why?”
“He’s trouble!” Logan snapped. “He is trouble and he brought trouble with him. Once again, I’m driving you home from hospital and I’m sick of it!” He banged his palm on the steering wheel. “You’ve got a bloody death wish and him being around won’t help. I give up with you sometimes, Hana.”
“I did nothing wrong.” Angry tears welled up behind Hana’s eyes and she swallowed and fought them back.
“Didn’t you?” Logan spat. The ute swerved as he took his eyes off the road to glare at her. “Don’t you have two tamariki that need you?” His eyes blazed. “You’re a whāereere. Behave like one!”
“You don’t have to tell me I’m a wife and mother!” Hana hissed, translating Logan’s Māori for herself. “Nothing I did in trying to help Caleb jeopardised that.”
“Really?” Logan’s eyes blazed, granite grey and hard. “So, you didn’t need rescuing and you haven’t just left my tamariki for a night with other people? I didn’t spend a night away from my business and miss a meeting with the accountant yesterday? And you didn’t nearly fall fifty metres or need medical care? No, I thought not; it’s all in my head.”
Hana’s eyes widened and she turned away, chewing the inside of her cheek and staring through the window, unseeing. Logan’s words seemed to squeeze her heart, constricting her breathing and bringing her to her senses. Hana’s fingers writhed in her lap as she sank from the heights of heroism to idiocy. She took shallow breaths, exhaling through pursed lips to disguise the waiting sobs and fighting for control. Easing herself sideways in her seat, Hana brushed away the hot tears, hating her weakness and detesting herself.
Logan’s hand on her shoulder was enough to drive her stupidity home and Hana gulped as he indicated and pulled into a layby, rolling to a stop. She heard him sigh as he removed his hand and put the gear lever into neutral. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re not a bad whāereere.”
Hana sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her wrist and Logan reached for her again. Insistent fingers pulled at her wooden body, cradling her head against his chest across the gear stick. “I am,” she sniffed, her breath hitching in her chest. “You’re right; I’m a rubbish wife and mother.”
“You’re not. I shouldn’t have said it. You attract trouble and danger like flies around roke and it freaks me out, that’s all.”
Hana sobbed as Logan realised his error. “I didn’t mean you were shit, Hana! I’ll just shut up.”
Hana wiped her nose on Logan’s tee shirt and sniffed the unfamiliar hotel deodorant on his skin. The hot, angry tears subsided as guilt rose in her breast. “I knew I was in trouble when I got half way down the tree,” she admitted. “It looked like miles to the bottom and I realised I’d overestimated my climbing ability. I prayed for you and the children and hoped you’d find someone nicer to marry.”
Logan snorted. “You honestly think I’d bother looking for another woman?” He sighed and rubbed Hana’s back. “Wahine, you’ve given me enough trouble to make up for the twenty-six years I spent looking for you. You’re it, ba
be. If I can’t have you, I’d rather be alone.”
“Liar,” Hana sniffed. “You’d castrate yourself out of frustration.”
“Na, I’d get a hooker. Mindless sex and no grief.”
Hana sat up, her fringe sticking up comically. Her green eyes widened with horror. “You wouldn’t!”
Logan laughed and put the truck into gear. “You wouldn’t be here to disapprove.” He checked his mirror, indicated and pulled back onto the motorway, jerking his head back towards Hana. “Put your seatbelt back on, wahine.” He hid a smirk as he checked over his right shoulder and pulled into the outside lane, overtaking a milk truck. By the time Hana clicked her belt back into place and faced him, Logan had tamed his teasing expression into his characteristic look of blank disinterest.
Chapter 6
The Challenge
“Hey Macky, look at the horse. Wanna stroke her nose?” Hana shifted her son onto the other hip and turned so he could see Sacha’s blue eye. The mare shifted her face and reached out towards the child, scenting his leggings and snuffing gently. Mac reached out a tiny finger and prodded the furry face. Sacha closed her eyes, responding to what she sensed of Logan in the small boy. “She’s beautiful, hey Mac?” Hana crooned, watching the baby’s face change as he concentrated, knitting his brow and looking serious.
“Excuse me!” The masculine voice sounded firm, coming so unexpectedly it made the humans and horse jump in equal measure. Sacha put her ears flat back on her head and snaked her neck. “What do you think you’re doing? This is a private area.” The male looked strong and imposing, striding towards Hana with bulging muscles and a threatening stance. “You can’t just walk into my stable yard without permission!” he snapped and Hana saw frustration cross his face at her lack of response. Her first reaction was fear, closely followed by indignation.
“Pardon?”
“You heard!” he replied rudely. “And get away from that mare; she’s unpredictable. She killed a man last year.”