New Du Rose Matriarch

by Bowes, K T

  Hana looked surprised thinking back to the couple in the coffee shop with the takeaway cups. She remembered looking back at Laval to find him wiping coffee from his shirt and looking through the window at her. They gave her time to get away. Odering studied her with interest and Hana frowned. Then she thought of his officers Tasering poor Tama as he tried to protect her and Hana’s anger spiked again, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Will you officially apologise to Tama?” she asked, her voice raised. “He was protecting me when your officers Tasered him.”

  Bodie’s eyes widened in shock. “They Tasered the kid?” he said, darting a look at Odering. His superior ignored him.

  Odering answered with practiced calm. “I think not prosecuting him for assault on police was apology enough. By the way, the officer’s fine thank you for asking. He’s on sick leave whilst his badly broken nose heals. Perhaps you’d convey to Mr Haewi that head-butting a police officer is a serious offence.”

  Bodie sat back in his chair seeing it as game-over. Every time Odering or Hana opened their mouths; another revelation popped out. He knew instinctively he was out of his depth, watching his mother through lowered eyelashes and wondering who she’d become. Bodie hardly recognised the powerful woman in front of him. She sat in front of the open doors, her red locks blowing in the breeze. Her complexion was pink cheeked and beautiful, serene despite her discomfort. Peering at the bandage on her left hand, his stomach lurched and Bodie squirmed in his seat as a memory flooded his brain.

  He saw her at the scene, spraying blood from an arterial bleed. Screaming to her he felt utterly useless as the paramedics slipped a drip into her vein with plasma pumping into her limp body, pressing gauze so firmly into the wound her hand turned blue. Bodie stared covertly at her wrist as her hands writhed over her book. He saw stuff leaking through the bandage and felt unwell. He focussed on his sleeping sister instead, desperately wanting a connection with her, but not knowing where to start.

  Hana and Odering stared each other down in a pointless stalemate. The officer spoke first, breaking the leaden silence with a question. “Will you ever give me a statement, Mrs Du Rose?”

  He didn’t seem surprised at her answer, but Bodie was stunned. “No,” Hana said with dignity.

  “Can I ask why?” Odering replied, calmly as though soothing a dangerous animal.

  Hana sighed and visibly relaxed as he offered no resistance. She looked through the doors towards the stables and bush line in the distance. The sun beat down on the mountains relentlessly, threatening the water supply to the hotel with its attack on the uphill springs. Hana knew Logan worried about drought. She turned her gaze and her thoughts back to the room’s occupants. “Michael Laval Junior is really Michel L’Huillier. He was married to Logan’s sister many years ago. She treated him appallingly. It began about his father but became personal. She hurt him and when his father presented the opportunity to him, he saw a way to deprive my husband of me. It was...” Hana searched for the right words and came up empty. There were none. Her mind drifted off to the lounge with its old fashioned carpet and furniture and the endless photos decorating the tired walls.

  Odering put his head down and stared at his shiny shoes. “His men have told us he intended to keep you prisoner. There was a room...” He couldn’t describe the room to her. She would find out soon enough in court where it would be displayed in vivid detail.

  “He needs help,” Hana said levelly, “not prison.”

  Odering lost his temper unexpectedly, something snapping deep inside him. Remembering the baby on the coffee table, he managed not to shout at the infuriating but beautiful woman in front of him. He still couldn’t keep the hiss from his voice. “So this is it then? Just because this man married into the Du Rose family and got hurt, you’re exonerating him from any responsibility for the living hell you’ve lived through over the last few weeks? I’m just making sure I’ve got this right.”

  “I have to.” Hana replied through gritted teeth.

  “Why?” asked the enraged policeman. He was tired and sweaty. He’d been bluffing his superiors for days promising Hana’s statement and now after hunting her down, it slipped away from him before his eyes. They had more than enough to hold L’Huillier, but he needed a statement from the victim to stop his fancy lawyer making any inferences by its noticeable absence.

  “Because,” Hana began slowly, “because marrying into the Du Roses can be a dreadful mistake. This family is selfish and relentless. It consumes you and when it’s done with you, spits the pips into the gutter and moves on. It’s broken so many people. It’s driven Laval mad and I find it hard to judge him for it.”

  Hana looked up to find both Bodie and Odering looking at something behind her. She turned to follow their gaze and saw Logan standing in the open doorway. The sun was behind him, but Hana saw a streak of dirt on his cheek. He pushed his hat back and his fringe tumbled over his eyes. His shirt had come partly untucked and his cowboy boots were dusty from the hard ride. Her husband’s face was a dreadful mixture of hurt and thunder and Hana’s heart quailed. His grey eyes bore into her face and she suffered physical pain from what she read there. Inwardly she kicked herself over and over, frightened she’d revealed something about herself she hadn’t even known. She wondered if her marriage could survive the awful revelation.

  Logan removed his gaze from Hana and she sensed the coolness of its absence. He turned to the other men in the room and calmly asked them to follow him outside. Both stood up awkwardly, neither able to look at Hana. They left via the French doors and she heard their footsteps going around the outside of the hotel. Leaning forward, she put her head in her hands feeling utterly sick. Why did I say that? She asked herself repeatedly, I didn’t even know that’s what I thought!

  Hana concentrated on breathing and not thinking about the hurt in her husband’s face. Not only had she trashed the family name he loved, his whānau, she’d done it publicly. It was probably an unforgivable sin as far as Logan was concerned. A knock on the door admitted Leslie with the now wasted tray of tea and coffee. Hana gaped apologetically, her face pale and ashen. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. She felt tired, cried out and empty. “I’ve done something,” she blurted.

  Leslie looked at her with concern, laying the tea tray on the table next to the baby’s makeshift cot. She tutted and started towards Hana, arms outstretched oozing comfort. She was almost there when Logan appeared in the doorway and his face defied challenge. Leslie put her arms back at her sides and beat a hasty retreat, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Logan stood next to the arm of Hana’s chair, seeing her bent double in her internal agony. “Hana, don’t.” He dropped to his haunches and pulled her head into his chest, holding her as the shuddering sobs wracked her slender frame and rendered her immobile.

  Hana cried for many things; regret and hopelessness, lost friendship, injustice, fear and abject misery. “I’m sorry,” she wailed. “I’m so sorry!” Hana cried until her husband’s shirt front was soaked and hanging from his chest and her eyes were puffy and sore. She clung to him one-handed, the other lying painfully in her lap.

  Logan remained beside her until his legs numbed, holding onto her and soothing her gently. “It’s all gonna be ok,” he whispered, over and over.

  When Hana sat up, wiping her nose on her arm disgustingly, she apologised. “I’m so sorry...” she began. “You’ve every right to be angry with me...I...”

  “Shh,” his arms were strong and safe. “I’m not mad. It was a shock. I didn’t know you thought about my family like that.”

  Hana took a gulp and a shuddering breath as her lungs spasmed from her crying. “I didn’t know I felt like that either. Not until I heard it come out.”

  Logan’s face was inches from hers and he smiled. She saw the creases in the corners of his eyes. They had deepened over the last year as he learned to smile more. She wanted to kiss him but felt afraid. “Hana?” he asked in a whisper. “Do you think I’ll c
onsume you and then when I’m done, spit your pips out and move on?”

  Her chest constricted, hearing him quote her words with accuracy and questioning herself. “No,” she sniffed, “I think I saw you as another victim of the family, not the aggressor.”

  Logan leaned back so he could see her face fully, confusion registering in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” Hana sniffed, “they lied to you about your father. Your mother secretly took you to him for guitar lessons so he could still have contact and deceived you about who he was. They let you take legal action against him knowing you were destroying your own blood. They even let you get a tattoo – knowing it was genealogically wrong. It was all about them, never about you. Then your mother walked into that fire not caring about her children and orphaned you. I caught Alfred walking out on you too. I think that’s what I meant. And then there’s poor Tama. Nobody wants him and what did he ever do to any of them, apart from be born to the wrong parents?”

  Logan sighed as he registered the truth in her words. His legs pulsed and he moved to the arm of Hana’s chair. “You’re right,” he acknowledged. “Everything you said; it’s true.” He ran his hand across his face as he considered the awful nature of the Du Rose legacy. It was seriously flawed.

  “I shouldn’t have said it though,” Hana hiccoughed, “especially not to them.”

  “It happens,” Logan said his voice quiet. “It’s what you thought.”

  “Have they gone?” Hana whispered, afraid they listened outside to her hysterics. Logan nodded and relief flooded over her, immediately wasted as he spoke.

  “I’ve given them a room for the night. They’re coming down to dinner with us and you’re gonna talk to them.”

  Hana tried to protest, but Logan put his hand up for her to stop. She felt the irrational, childish urge to bite it. “I’m asking you to make a statement, Hana. There’re things you don’t know about Laval’s marriage to Liza. I don’t expect you to understand or forgive me, but this guy intended to hurt you. He must be put away, Hana. I never want the threat of him coming after you or my daughter again and I can’t live through another day like that ever. So do the right thing for me and Phoenix. Ok?”

  “I’ll think about it,” Hana said, an edge of stroppiness in her voice. Logan shook his head firmly and turned her to face him.

  “No thinking, Hana. I’m telling you, I want you to do this. Are you going to?”

  “Tomorrow,” she said, looking up at him with a cute expression. Logan pulled her close and they sat for a while. The tea and coffee on the tray went cold and Logan smirked to himself. He’d told Leslie to make a room up for the two policemen free of charge. She looked at him curiously when he suggested a room number and then smiled wickedly in approval. Whatever they said to Hana upset her and the beautiful woman didn’t need that after everything she’d been through.

  The two men deserved the small twin room and she seriously hoped they both snored and kept each other awake.

  Chapter 29

  Alfred ate in the kitchen, cuddling Phoenix over his shoulder and filling his mouth one-handed. He kept his large palm on the flat of her back and she sucked at her fingers and made baby noises. She burped a couple of times and farted once, making him chuckle. “Funny moko,” he breathed.

  She wore a tiny sleep suit with SpongeBob Square Pants figures over it and her fluffy dark hair sprouted like Logan’s. Her eyes were a stormy grey and showed no signs of changing further.

  “She’s like her daddy,” one of the kitchen girls said, leaning over to stroke the child’s hand.

  Alfred nodded and put an emotional wall around his heart. Sometimes Phoenix’s eyes held such profound wisdom, Alfred felt like he stared into the soul of his dead brother. Regret filled his waking moments and old wrongs haunted him. They both liked Miriam but Alfred exercised his rights as the elder brother. Perhaps, he reasoned, I got what I deserved.

  “Awesome pie,” he said with his mouth full, eating the chicken pie with enjoyment. His stomach ached from the sudden influx of food after weeks of pining and denying himself basic needs.

  “Tēnā rawa atu koe,” Leslie beamed, thanking him for his compliment.

  Alfred’s crinkled cheeks pinked at her pleasure, experiencing the ability to affect another’s mood with a single kind word.

  A wedding banquet belted on in the ballroom with guests dancing like maniacs in vastly unsuitable shoes and dresses. Only the newlyweds and a few chosen guests had booked rooms, so it would be finished by midnight. Logan listened to the noise they generated from the safety of the resident’s dining room, relieved he didn’t face such evenings permanently. Hana sat next to him picking at her food and opposite, Bodie and Odering emptied their plates. Logan told Odering earlier that Hana would make a statement in the morning with him present. “Use a recorder,” Logan advised, “because she won’t be repeating it.”

  Odering had looked relieved, despite the dreadful telephone row with his wife, forced to miss her girly night out with friends.

  “How’s Amy?” Logan asked, making conversation amidst the silence.

  “Away seeing her parents in Wellington with Jas,” Bodie answered with a swallow. “It’s not going well.”

  “Amy?” Odering asked, turning his head to observe his offsider. “Our Amy from the custody suite?”

  Bodie closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, resenting the overlap between work and personal. He nodded and filled his mouth, allowing the silence to crowd back over the group.

  Hana seemed eerily quiet, pushing her food around the plate without eating. The bandage on her wrist was hidden beneath a cardigan sleeve but Hana periodically gripped a spot above the wound with her other hand, her face a mask of pain. Bodie glanced across the table at Logan, united in concern. “Did Izzie tell you what happened the other day?” Bodie asked, receiving Logan’s smile of gratitude.

  “No. What happened?” Hana asked, her voice drifting.

  “She took the boy shopping in a double buggy, only to discover as she got the thing wedged in a shop doorway, it was larger than the average gap. The buggy refused to dismantle, and the shop owner had to call a tradesman to remove the door frame.”

  Hana laughed, imagining her beautiful Indian daughter in her high heels, posturing elegantly and denying any blame.

  “Marcus said Izzie was unrepentant, sitting in the shop drinking tea and complaining. Then when they released the pram, she stuffed the babies back into it and clip-clopped home. She arrived five hours late with no shopping, to find him frantically coping with Elizabeth and a house full of prospective brides and grooms!”

  Logan smiled but when he looked sideways at Hana, he saw her glazed eyes and knew she was already elsewhere. He took her delicate fingers under the table and squeezed, attempting to inject his love into her spirit.

  “Thanks for dinner,” the police officers chimed, as the staff cleared away dessert dishes.

  “Fancy a walk, Mum?” Bodie asked but Hana shook her head and pressed on her wrist again, her face blank.

  “You guys go,” Logan suggested. “But don’t get lost.”

  Bodie shot a nervous look at his mother and Logan smiled with reassurance. “She’s just tired,” he whispered and Hana’s son nodded without seeming convinced.

  “What’re you thinking, babe?” Logan asked on the way to the kitchen to retrieve their daughter.

  Hana shrugged. “Just worrying about the interview.”

  “Don’t,” Logan said with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be there.”

  Hana stopped in the middle of the corridor, staring at a point on the floor. “But Laval...seemed...I don’t understand,” she said, her inner wrestle creasing her brow. “How can I talk about something I don’t understand?”

  “You don’t.” Logan kissed her forehead and pulled her right hand away from its death grip on the bandage. “You tell the facts and leave out all speculation. That’s their job, not yours.”

  Hana nodded as though so
mething clicked and she smiled and followed her husband into the kitchen.

  “Thanks,” Logan said to Alfred as the old man handed the child over. “It helped you looking after Phoe.”

  “Pleasure,” Alfred replied and the emotional void, back-filled with a world of hurt and pain, lessened.

  Upstairs Hana fed the hungry baby in silence, playing with the tiny fingers which clutched her nightshirt. “It’s Phoenix,” she said abruptly, meeting her husband’s watchful eyes. Hana stared at her daughter’s tiny nails and knuckles, remembering the dread of never seeing her again. “My mum never saw my children and I thought for a moment I’d die without seeing Phoe’s. I’d never watch her graduate from school or university or see her happily married. It created a void in my chest that won’t go away.”

  Hana stroked the downy black hair as the child suckled and stared into the penetrating Du Rose eyes that glittered from the tiny olive face. “My mum was gone. But for Reuben it was worse. He could see everything but only from a distance. It must be what hell feels like.”

  Logan rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and turned away, something bursting inside his chest. Hana’s words echoed in his mind. ‘It must be what hell feels like.’

  Unaware, Hana wrestled with her own thoughts, allowing her mind back into Laval’s lounge. The surety of death hung over her and she remembered how she turned it into a driving force for escape. Since then it had become a spiteful black thread, pinning her in a desperate stranglehold, disturbing her sleep and threatening her sanity. She tried to control the shiver in her spine, knowing Logan watched her every move.

  “Sorry,” she said into the silence as Logan boiled the kettle on the dresser. His furtive glances reminded her of how he observed Miriam. “I’m not losing the plot, I promise. Reliving it for Odering’s benefit tomorrow fills me with dread.”

  “I know.” Logan flopped the tea bag around in the mug, adding milk and cursing as the bag broke and he needed to start over. He winded Phoenix over his shoulder while Hana sipped the tea, their thighs touching in the wide bed. Phoenix gave a sigh which ended in a hiccough, protesting at the delay before dessert. She whimpered and jerked as the air in her tiny stomach fought for release. Logan cleared his throat. “Would you rather I wasn’t in the interview?” he asked, watching Hana sideways. “I told Odering I would, but I’ll do whatever makes it easier for you.”