by Bowes, K T
“I haven’t managed it yet,” Hana said, rocking Mac in her arms. “Please can you make me some?”
Mark nodded and disappeared next door, returning with a full teapot and mugs stuffed on a tray. A milk jug teetered near the edge and Hana held her breath, relieved when it all made it onto the table. Balancing her son in one arm, she opened a drawer in the huge Welsh dresser and yanked out a packet of baby wipes, which she tossed onto the table. “Wipe your faces and then get out a puzzle. I want to talk to Uncle Mark for a minute before he goes home.”
Wiri took charge of operations, scrubbing cheese grease from his cousin’s face until red marks remained. He cleaned his own with the same wipe and Hana cringed. He used four more to attack the crumbs on the table and Hana’s eyes narrowed, seeing something of Logan’s obsessive compulsion in the steady, determined action. Phoenix hustled to the dresser and retrieved a complicated jigsaw, losing half the pieces on the rug in her enthusiasm. Undaunted, Wiri knelt and began turning them face up, looking for edges to begin the picture.
“Clever lad,” Mark mused, pouring tea and watching the child’s concentration.
Hana nodded with deliberate slowness. “I’m beginning to realise that. It didn’t matter when he was only staying with us on an ad hoc basis, but if it’s permanent, I should make more effort.”
“Permanent?” Mark cocked his head. “Is his mother worse?”
“No. But she’s no better either. Nev’s got his hands full with Asher and the farm so we’re keeping this little man for a while longer. Logan’s working at the school for a term so we’re shifting back next week. He’ll come with us.”
“To Hamilton?” The hope in Mark’s eyes sent a flicker of pleasure through Hana’s breast.
“Yeah. Back to the Waikato Presbyterian School for Boys. Where we started.”
“Yuk, not to that tiny staff unit I hope. Surely you’d need a bigger one.”
Hana shook her head. “Logan’s secured The Gatehouse again. We stayed there before we went to Europe. It’s huge and old, but better than one of the cramped units.”
“I’ll enjoy having you more local.” Mark smiled and poured the tea into two mugs. “While I’m still here.”
Hana’s answering smile drooped. “I thought you planned to stay.”
“In the country, but maybe not in Hamilton. There’s a permanent job in surgical at Auckland General and I might apply. I haven’t decided yet. I’ve got a few options. The lease on my new place is six months and I’ve found a lodger. I’m not tied to the city.”
“You found a lodger already?” Hana asked, sipping her too-hot tea. “You only mentioned it the other night.”
Mark nodded. “One of the surgeons starts at the Waikato Hospital next week. It might be nice having company.” His face flushed pink and Hana glared at him.
“Is this the person who’s taking your mind off Anka? Why move so fast, Mark? Be careful.”
Mark swallowed and changed the subject. “The emergency department in Auckland is run by a consultant called Michael Du Rose. That’s a strange coincidence, don’t you think? Any relation?”
Hana choked on her tea and her face paled. “Just stay away from him.”
“Who is he?” Mark’s eyes narrowed in curiosity. “Family, obviously.”
“He’s Logan’s half-brother,” Hana replied, glancing at the children as Wiri set Phoenix to work turning pieces the right way up in the box lid. She lowered her voice. “He’s Ryan and Tama’s father. He’s got as much honour as a snake and you’d do well to stay away from him.”
“Damn good doctor though,” Mark concluded. “Well respected. The registrars spoke highly of him.”
“They must be female then,” Hana snapped but Mark’s mind seemed elsewhere. His eyes glazed over and Hana heard alarm bells in her head. “Did you spend the night with this mysterious woman and her stethoscope last night, or is it the thought of Michael Du Rose that’s getting you all hot around the collar?”
Mark’s expression became coy. “Yes, I did, Hana. The relationship isn’t what I expected but I think it might work for me this time. If it doesn’t, there’s always this job in Auckland.” He screwed his face up. “I’ve never met Michael, have I?”
“No. Be careful, Mark?” Hana sighed and Mark raised his eyebrows. “You just got burned by Anka; it could be a rebound.”
“I can assure you it’s not.”
“I hope not.” Hana hefted her snoring son over her shoulder and tipped him into the car seat where he lolled to one side. She straightened him out and clasped the seat belt shut. “If you ever come across Michael, you’d do well to never mention me. You don’t want favours from him, Mark, because he always expects something in return.” She stood up and fixed a steady gaze on her brother. “Michael Du Rose thinks the world owes him. Just don’t ever expect us to pay your debts to him.”
“I won’t.” Mark avoided her eyes, knowing he’d already bandied his association to the Du Roses around the group of doctors. Hana saw it in his face and her heart clenched in misery. She watched him for a moment before delivering her verdict.
“You’re already offside with Logan over Anka. Don’t compound it by using your link to him to influence Michael for a job; it really won’t end well.”
Mark slugged his tea and stood with a hasty and unconvincing nod. “I’m not likely to meet him, Hana. I only mentioned it because of the association. Best be off now if I’m to beat the Hamilton traffic. I’ll grab my gear from your place and leave the key under the mat. Thanks for letting me stay; it’s given me a chance to clear my head.”
Hana let him hold her, feeling the strength in his long arms. As children he’d been jealous of her and it fostered cruelty and violence. He’d used his hands to hurt her and then years later, to heal. She sighed, feeling the tension in him and praying he’d change his mind about a new relationship. Instinct told her he sought challenge and excitement and neither of those things led to good outcomes in love. She waved him goodbye and watched him crunch through the gravel to his car, the hand-blown glass panes distorting his body. “Why?” she asked herself under her breath. “Why do you want to self-destruct so badly?”
Her head swivelled round at speed, her lips parting in surprise as the small boy joining the edges of a puzzle spoke wisdom into the room. “Because he’s bored,” Wiri said, his tone older than his years. “That’s what men do.”
Chapter 21
Confusing Encounters
Hana wandered around the house in a daze, her son’s pink cheeks radiating an unhealthy glow against the cream cardigan as he tossed his head from the pain of the new teeth cutting through his tender gums. He’d cried himself sick and Logan arrived home to find Hana coping with a sobbing baby and two children squabbling over a single Lego piece from a bucket full of identical clones. “I’m driving into town to get my hair cut,” he said. “I’ll take these two with me to give you some peace.” Logan inclined his dark head towards the arguing pair on the hearthrug and Hana heaved a sigh of relief.
“That would be awesome.”
“I’ll be about an hour.” Logan glanced at Wiri’s tousled head. “I might get his cut too.”
“Okay.” Hana looked around the lounge which had formed her prison cell for the past six hours, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Mac pressed his nose and mouth into her shoulder, hurting the site of her pacemaker and she hissed.
“Hey, boy. Do you want your girly hair cut?” Logan asked and Wiri nodded, pushing his fringe out of his eyes at the same time as standing.
“Have my girly hairs cut?” Phoenix lifted the thin ponytail Hana had wrestled onto the top of her head in between soothing Mac and ordering Wiri to put pants on.
Hana opened her mouth to refuse but Logan winked and nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure the barber will cut one or two of yours.”
Phoenix squealed her delight and dashed into the garage to retrieve her red gumboots.
“Doormat!” Hana called as she heard the crash of the shoe
cupboard door. “Don’t put them on indoors.”
Logan pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her and the grizzling baby. “Why don’t I drop you at the hotel with the pram? You could push him around the rose gardens and he might fall asleep. If he settles you can grab a cup of tea and I’ll text when I’m heading home?”
Hana nodded with exhaustion. “Sounds good.” She shook her head, her eyes downcast. “I’m too old for this. I’m making a mess of it.”
Logan kissed her temple and loosed his hold on her shoulders to stroke Mac’s cheek, pulling a sad face at the tearful green eyes. “You’re doing good, babe. I know it’s hard. It didn’t last long with Phoe and it won’t last long with this wee man either.”
“If you say so.” Hana yawned and gathered supplies into a bag which would fit under the pram and let Logan fill the ute with children and paraphernalia. She shoved a woollen hat over her unwashed hair and wrapped a scarf around her neck. Mac whimpered all the way to the bottom of the mountain and didn’t stop until Logan stuffed him into the pram and swaddled him up in a blanket.
“What did you do?” Hana watched her son licking his lips, a confused look on his face.
“An old Du Rose remedy.” Logan smirked and tapped the pocket of his jacket.
“Seriously, what did you do?” Hana felt caught between admiration and concern. Logan pulled a tub from his pocket and handed it over, grinning as Hana opened the lid and peered at the contents. “What’s that?” She sniffed it, scenting something peppery. The stuff inside looked jellified with a greenish hue.
“Kawakawa.” Logan’s brow knitted and he searched Hana’s face for scorn. “It’s been made into a paste for Mac’s gums.”
“By who?” Hana sniffed again and twisted the lid back on.
“The kaumatua’s wife.” Logan jutted his chin out. “It’s an old Māori cure, te rongoa Māori.”
Hana narrowed her eyes and readied herself for an argument. “You can’t just shove something in a baby’s mouth. I don’t even know what’s in it.”
“I told you. Kawakawa. And it’s working.” Logan jerked his head at the pram where Mac stared at the inside of the hood, moving his lips around in an exaggerated movement.
Hana opened her mouth to speak but Logan shook his head and climbed back into the ute, insulted by her lack of faith. He didn’t give her the opportunity to debate the issue, slamming his foot on the gas and leaving the car park in a hail of gravel. Hana shoved the tub of goo into the bag next to the pram and closed the zip. She fitted it in the tray beneath Mac and pulled her coat tighter around her body. Mac wrinkled his nose and stuck his tongue right out, pulling a comical face. Hana bit her lip and forced herself not to worry about poisoning and emergency hospital dashes, followed by awkward questions from social welfare officers. “Look on the bright side, Hana,” she told herself with a sigh. “He’s stopped crying.”
The hotel steps thronged with visitors checking in for a conference and Hana moved away from the hotel, pushing the pram through the thick pea gravel and hearing it crunch under the wheels. Miriam’s rose garden showed her its winter face, the standards and bushes pruned ready for the coming spring. The blunted branches resembled stunted fingers pointing skywards and the air tingled with expectancy. Will’s son served as the gardener and clumps of cut grass clung to the hem of Hana’s jeans and scattered across the tops of her leather boots. The pram bounced along on the uneven surface, the wheels disappearing under a desiccated green covering and Mac turned his face to the side and closed his eyes, lulled by the movement. “Typical!” Hana hissed. “I criticise your father and you prove him right.” She shook her head and continued pushing as her son settled into the rocking rhythm and slept.
The stable yard looked deserted, the loose boxes empty and a wheel barrow leaning on its end against the wall. Hana pushed the pram across the rippled concrete and stopped in front of the box Sacha occupied when she wasn’t out in the paddocks. She stroked her gloved fingers across the bolt and closed her eyes, imagining the white mare stretching her head over the door and nuzzling her face.
“I don’t bloody care!” The shout made Hana jump and she recognised Lincoln’s raised voice. She darted a frenzied look at her sleeping son.
“I don’t know what to say to him!” she squeaked. “He killed a woman!” In a moment of irrational panic, she cranked the bolt back on Sacha’s loose box and pushed the pram inside, pulling the door behind her. It groaned on the new hinges Logan fixed in place. A glance at Mac found him still sleeping and Hana pressed herself and the pram against the far corner of the stall, trying to avoid tipping the water bucket near her feet. She watched grains and a blade of hay bobbing on the gently moving surface.
“Don’t you speak to me like that!” Linc’s voice cracked the silence and Hana pressed herself against the wall, her heart thudding in her chest.
“He’s a murderer!” she repeated, mouthing the words as her legs shook beneath her. “He killed a woman.”
Linc stopped outside the loose box and his voice echoed off the brickwork, surrounding Hana in tenor sounds. “They released me and aren’t looking for anyone else; they said so.”
Hearing no other voice, Hana realised Linc’s conversation partner was on the telephone. She held her breath as his boots grated loose stones against the concrete. “I don’t care what you think.”
Hana breathed out through her lips in silent wisps of air, aware of her raised heart rate and the threat of the pacemaker beneath her collar bone. “Don’t go off,” she pleaded. “Don’t go off.”
“I’m grateful for everything you did,” Linc said, his voice lowered. “I appreciated your help with the lawyer’s fees but I paid the price for what I did. I’m doing this and I don’t care who gets hurt.”
Hana’s brain worked through Lincoln’s words, hearing them as an echoed repeat in her head. He sounded like a guilty man up to further trouble. Her eyes widened in horror as Mac opened his mouth and furrowed his brow, nudging the pram with her thigh to jog him back to sleep and hoping the action made no discernable sound. Lincoln’s conversation included someone who paid his legal fees and her mind made the automatic leap to Logan. Her husband paid for his friend’s lawyer. She struggled to remember who imparted that fact. Was it Logan himself, Leslie or Will? Hana breathed through pursed lips, trying to stop her exhale hissing and alerting Linc to her presence. But her heart pounded and fear pulsed through her body. Mac moved his head from one side to the other and whimpered in pain, rubbing a tiny fist across his mouth. Hana stretched her fingers beneath the pram and dragged the kawakawa gel from the pocket of the bag, snagging her finger on the zip. She pushed a blob of it into Mac’s mouth and watched his brow furrow as his tongue worked in his sleep. She patted her sticky fingers against his chest through the blanket, offering maternal comfort in the hope it would be enough.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” Lincoln’s boots shuffled on the concrete as he began walking away from the stall. “This is my life and I intend to take charge of it from now on. Don’t get in the way!”
Hana exhaled as Linc’s voice grew distant and she heard the office door slam behind him. Waiting a moment to be sure he’d gone, she peeked over the half door and unlatched the bolt, sliding it with painful slowness. The door creaked on its hinges and Hana caught the scent of Sacha’s perfumed skin as she retrieved the pram from the corner and shoved it through the opening. Not stopping to close it behind her, she walked at speed, heading through the gate towards the hotel without looking back. Her breath came in frightened heaves and she loosed the scarf from around her neck and whipped the woolly hat off. “Oh no,” she hissed, pressing her fingers to her lips. “What’s he up to? Is he planning to hurt someone else?”
Half turning on the spot, Hana hesitated, wanting to go back and demand an explanation from the stable manager. A spirit of indignation on behalf of his next victim sent her back to the stables and across the yard, stopping outside the stable manager’s door. Light glowed
through the leaded glass and she paused before raising her hand to knock. In the heartbeat before her knuckles connected the glass she heard the sound of a heavy bottle clunking into place on the table and the chink of glass. Lincoln roared as though he’d poured fire into his belly and Hana halted her foolish plan.
She retreated, not keen to face a murderer but desperate not to have to deal with a drunk. She walked back towards the hotel, drawing her phone from her pocket. ‘No secrets,’ Logan said only days before.
“Okay, Logan, no secrets,” she said, dialling his number.
Chapter 22
Suspicion
Hana sent four voicemails and a text to Logan as she sat on the front steps of the hotel, pleading illness and begging him to return. He answered none of them and her fingers froze inside her gloves while she waited, the afternoon temperatures plummeting as the mountain obscured the sun. Guests arrived and left, bumping their suitcases down the front stairs and nodding to Hana. Mac slept and for that, she felt gratitude.
The ute slewed to a stop in front of the steps, spitting gravel at Hana and the pram. Logan leapt from the cab and Phoenix banged on the window nearest her to get Hana’s attention. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, wrapping her in his arms, bare despite the winter temperatures. His hair looked neatly cropped around his ears, the fringe left long and flipping forwards. “Phone battery went dead and I didn’t realise. The kids played a game while I got my hair cut and I didn’t notice until we got back to the car. I plugged it in and saw heaps of messages from you. What’s wrong?”
“I want to go back up to the house.” Hana shivered, supporting her sentiment and Logan rubbed his fingers along her spine.
“Something’s wrong. Talk to me.” His perceptive grey eyes sought out weakness like a missile, heaving the crack wide and peering in. “Hana!” His tone hardened and she pushed herself out of his embrace.