by Bowes, K T
“I haven’t told you yet today,” Logan’s voice was husky and soft. Hana looked at him with her brow furrowed, still cross.
“Told me what?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
“That you’re beautiful,” he smiled and his kiss was gentle, their lips touching underneath the speckled canopy of distilled sunlight.
Chapter 31
Hana stalled, trying to slow her heart rate and deliberately disconnecting from Logan, focussing on the plus side of the bum-sliding experience and avoiding his warm, sensuous lips. She reached down to replace her right foot in the stirrup iron she lost on the journey downwards. But at least, she told herself, I didn’t fall off and even though I looked like a complete egg plummeting down and up the bank, I didn’t scream, or grunt, or wail!
Hana’s internal rant formed part of her battle plan to distract her heart from Logan’s magnetic power over it. But she was disturbed by the clank of tack as Sacha moved closer to Digger. They snuffed and breathed into each other’s nostrils companionably. Logan’s stirrup iron clinked against hers and she glanced up to find him still close. The air between them fizzed and crackled with electricity that left Hana feeling rattled. “Stop running from me,” he whispered. Logan put his hand up to Hana’s face again and she felt the warmth of his fingers on her cheek. This time, she didn’t pull away.
He ran his thumb down under her eye and across her lips before letting his hand drop back to his side. He said nothing but clicking with his tongue to Sacha, moved away from the edge of the bank and on through the bush to the sound of bellbirds and tui calling and laughing at them from their high points in the canopy. Hana fell in behind him, feeling as though she was still emotionally plunging down the bank and wondering if she could cope with the intense attraction for her companion which raged in her heart and head. She felt terrified. Hana Johal had been there before and it wrecked everything. Get a grip, girlie, she told herself. One big mistake is allowed but two won’t be.
They rode for another hour, chatting as often as the track allowed them to ride side by side. Hana asked how come Logan had a French surname which amused him. “A French ship came into New Zealand waters back in the early 1800s called the Cachalot, which was a whaling ship. The captain, Jean Francois Langlois was a friend of the Du Roses and encouraged them to return with him in 1840 as settlers. They arrived at Akaroa only to find that the British had annexed the South Island for themselves.”
Hana smirked behind his back at the ancient English/French rivalry that coursed through her blood. Logan didn’t notice, engrossed in his story as he flicked a fallen cockroach off his sleeve. “Local Māori agreed to Langlois’ original deed of purchase and he retained the land. The Du Rose family migrated north and purchased this tract of land between Auckland and Hamilton to farm. I’m fourth generation New Zealander, but the French connection is maintained, although to lesser degrees as the younger generation loses interest. We still have family in France. The original Du Roses supported Māori in the Waikato Wars, offering safe haven for the women and children during the storming of Rangiriri Pa. Since then, local iwi have honoured the name and my family have farmed safely and successfully, intermarrying with Māori.”
It certainly explained Logan’s distinctly dark looks which Hana found increasingly attractive.
“Mum’s from a well-known local hapu and my paternal grandmother was the daughter of a rangatira, which is a Māori tribal leader by birth.”
Hana listened, loving the sense of belonging Logan’s history gave him. “So your parents are cousins then?” Hana asked and Logan nodded.
“Much of the family married that way, maintaining the French and the Māori whakapapa.”
Hana was pricked with jealousy for Logan’s heritage, being so steeped in memories all around him. Immigration robbed her children of that. They had nothing and belonged nowhere. For that first generation, those seated around their table at Christmas were all they had, all history and tradition hard won and more precious than other families could ever imagine.
They emerged from the bush into a green paddock via a gate, which Logan dismounted and unlock with a code. After leading Sacha through and letting Hana ride out, he shut the gate and remounted nimbly, standing on the top of the fence like a dangerous circus trick. Hana needed the toilet and grew more and more uncomfortable the further they went.
She looked at the back of Logan’s head for inspiration. How could she broach that kind of thing with someone she didn’t know very well? As they rode on, it occurred to Hana that in order to go to the toilet, she would need to get off the horse and that was going to be remarkable in itself. She imagined herself dismounting awkwardly with her now sore legs, falling in a heap on the floor and then limping off to a tree walking like a bow legged John Wayne with Logan watching her in dismay.
The edge of the paddock wasn’t far from the gate and Hana found herself looking across at a vast expanse of water. The green hue told Hana it was the Tasman Sea and the vast estuary in the distance looked like it had a town collected around it. In answer to her questioning face, Logan said, “That’s Port Waikato,” pointing into the distance with his left hand.
“I feel geographically challenged.” She wrinkled her nose in concentration. “I know where the estuary is on a map, but I don’t understand how we can see it in from here.”
“There’s a map in my room back down the mountain,” Logan said. “Remind me to show you.”
“Or we could check Google,” Hana suggested and Logan laughed.
“Ok, we’ll do that.”
Hana sat for a moment, knitting her brows. Another thing to Google. Like that house for sale, on the back road to Huntly.
Hana watched how Logan dismounted, keeping one foot in the stirrup and stepping down after throwing his long leg easily over the back of the saddle. He made it look like a simple task. Hana sat for a moment, waiting for her body to register that the steady jogging motion had finished and it was required to do something else. It didn’t get the hint and Hana pretended to look at the view while Logan unpacked pockets in the saddle blanket. She stared in amazement as all kinds of culinary delights appeared from Sacha’s flanks, ensconced in the heavy material.
While he was distracted, Hana dealt with the ordeal of getting off the horse. She took her right foot out of the stirrup and tried to swing it over the back of the saddle. Normally, it wouldn’t have been a problem, but the western saddle had a steeply upturned cantle to allow for a more secure seat and Hana couldn’t seem to swing her leg high enough to get over it. She had three more attempts, keeping one eye on Logan, who was momentarily occupied with the contents of the pockets. Hana stared as two small bottles of red wine appeared.
Digger stood patiently but began to get a fed up at the delay, using his initiative to reach down and tug at the tempting tufts of grass at his feet. It made dismounting even harder for Hana as his back arched as he reached and his neck formed an unhelpful slope. Seizing a clump of mane, Hana made her move, throwing her right leg heroically over the back of the saddle. As she slid down the side of the horse banging on every buckle as she descended, she realised too late that keeping one foot in the stirrup was only a good idea if touching her foot with her nose was a normal position. Hana was stuck. Her leg bent uncomfortably upwards, wedged in the stirrup, while the toes on her right foot barely scraped the floor. The only thing stopping her tumbling backwards was the clump of mane which she clung valiantly to with her left hand. The silky hair began to slip from her grasp and before she knew it, she was falling backward towards the grass.
Luckily, once her body was parallel with the ground, her left foot came out of the stirrup and she dropped to the floor like a stone, landing mainly in soft grass but encountering hidden rocks and hard bits of earth in delicate places. Hana lay flat on her back while Digger snuffed around her. It seemed she was laying on the exact bit of grass he wanted.
Logan’s anxious face appeared from behind the Digger’s rump. “Yo
u ok?” he enquired.
Hana decided a good old-fashioned-fake was the best policy. “Yep,” she replied, pulling herself up onto her elbows, trying to look casual as though it was the most normal thing in the world to be discovered lying in a paddock, flat on her back. Her riding hat skewed her view of the handsome male, sitting jauntily on her head. “I love the New Zealand sky, it looks so…big.”
Logan’s face disappeared and Hana put her hands over her face. How many more humiliations would this day bring? Sitting up, she contemplated the toilet problem with urgency. Logan removed Digger’s saddle, standing it on its pommel and then took off his bridle, replacing it with a head collar. Digger ignored him, moving off over the grass slowly like a primary school child in choosing time.
Hana was amazed when she saw the fruits of Logan’s labour. Paper plates sat on a patterned picnic rug on the lush grass, with sandwiches in plastic wrappers and the two tiny bottles of wine leaned at cheerful angles on the camber of the rug. Logan invited her to sit down and then indicated towards the cliff edge, already moving towards it. “Just going for a slash,” he said and sauntered off casually, already undoing his fly.
Oh to be a man, thought Hana.
Lunch was lovely. The sun shone warm and clear for them and it was hot despite the breeze which cooled the temperature. Hana and Logan ate their lunch of sandwiches and fruit, sipping expensive wine from the bottle. The horses milled around, begging for the apples. Hana handed hers over to Digger, but Logan refused to let his go and ate all but the core, which Sacha managed to take from his hand as he swatted a fly. It was gone midday and Hana felt like she had been out for hours and hours.
Logan settled down on his back with his hat over his face, but Hana rested back on her arms, her legs tucked under her. “Wasn’t this the best place in the world to grow up?” she asked, with visions of Enid Blyton’s ‘Famous Five,’ cycling all over the country and camping wherever they liked. Logan was slow to reply and Hana thought maybe he was asleep. She shifted her legs from under her, wrapped her arms around her bent knees and rested her chin on them, starting slightly in surprise when he answered.
“It should have been,” he said, so quietly Hana almost missed it. “But it wasn’t always.”
Hana resisted the urge to rush in with platitudes and statements about families getting on each other’s nerves, waiting patiently in case he wanted to share anything else. Again, as she had almost given up waiting, Logan spoke. “It was good until I was twelve,” he started, “because Mum home schooled us. It was awesome out here and I loved it. I used to rush through my school work early so I could come out and ride, or herd the cattle with Jack and Dad.” He sighed and Hana waited. “There were four of us then, Eliza, Barry, Michael and me. Liza is five years older than me, then Barry and Michael. Me and Mike are only a year apart.
“Just before my thirteenth birthday, Barry got sick. Mike and me were sent to study at North Shore Auckland Grammar and we boarded at the boarding house while Mum looked after Barry. Liza had already gone off to Victoria University to do Law. We couldn’t come home during the first holidays because Barry was so sick and we got sent to some relatives in Whangamata. They didn’t really want us, so it was difficult and we were glad when school started. Barry died during the first week back. When we came home for the funeral and tangi, I remember Mike saying how shabby everything seemed and how old Mum looked. We felt out of place here like it wasn’t home anymore. We stayed up at the grammar and finished our schooling, but only came home for visits after that, apart from one trip...somewhere to see a dying uncle.”
He became quiet and Hana struggled to know what to say. She laid down and rolled onto her stomach, cushioning her head on her forearms. She misjudged the movement and her body touched Logan’s. He reached out a hand and laid it across her back. “Sorry about your brother,” she whispered, hearing the futility of her words. “What was it like here before that?” she asked, trying to invoke memories of happier times.
“It was great,” Logan began, “just schoolwork and jobs on the farm and stuff. Mike and me got on, but Liza and Barry were friends with the kids over the fence on the property next door and we didn’t like them much. We weren’t supposed to mix with them.”
“Why? Who are they?”
“Dad’s brother and his kids. Our parents fell out years ago but I don’t know why. They used to live altogether at the hotel before I was born like one big happy family.” He shrugged. “Man, they were hard case!” Hana lay down on her back and laid her arm across her face to avoid the glare of the sun.
“What does that actually mean?” she asked, “In England it’s someone who’s been in prison or is a real baddie, but here it seems to be someone who’s funny, a good laugh.”
“Well, these are both,” stated Logan with surety. “Kane Du Rose is the oldest and he was smoking weed when he was eleven. Liza went out with him for a while until Dad found out and gave her such a whacking. Kane got together with a girl from my mum’s side of the family but he’s a real drunk and nasty with it. His boy is Tama, although Tama’s name isn’t the same as ours on his birth certificate. He’s got his mother’s name. You know him anyway!”
The last sentence was said with humour, but Hana detected a warning there and didn’t react or point out that she’d only seen the boy from a distance. “Then there’s Nev, he’s the same age as Barry and runs their farm. He’s a good bloke. I always got on with him. Then there was a girl. She wasn’t theirs, they fostered her. She has a...different surname.”
Hana wondered if Logan had forgotten her name, or if there was something more but he moved on, so she pushed the question to the back of her mind. “She was two years older than me and she and Liza hung out a lot. Their family carried on home schooling and we met up in the holidays after that. We didn’t like them that much, especially Kane, but there was nobody else around here our age so we kept getting thrown together. Uncle Reuben’s wife died just after they fostered the girl.”
As he lay sideways on the ground facing Hana, Logan reached up involuntarily to touch a point on his right side, stopping himself and settling back down. It was a curious action and Hana wondered if he had an itch, realising he had overridden some deeper instinct as his fingers lay clenched on the rug. His next sentence was almost a whisper, “Yeah, Kane was a psycho, even growing up. But the girl...she was evil.”
Hana heard a hidden message in Logan’s tone and she narrowed her eyes and looked interested, wanting more. But his silence was complete, the legacy sharing over. Hana sat up and noticed the horses had disappeared from the paddock. She swivelled around looking for them. Logan opened one eye and watched her. “They’ll be down there,” he pointed to the right, opposite to where Hana had snuck off before for the toilet. “There’s a stream, they’ll be getting a drink.”
He pulled at her shoulder and made her lie down next to him, enfolding her in his strong arms. Hana felt attraction burgeon like a flower in her heart. Logan put pressure behind her head and lowered her face to his, his kiss starting firm but gentle on her trembling red lips. She was afraid and he sensed it, stroking her auburn hair back from her face with long tender fingers. The kiss paralysed Hana, taking her breath away with the passion that rose up inside her, reminding her of forgotten possibilities. She grew more confident, remembering what it was like to be desired and feel beautiful. The tip of Logan’s tongue ventured tentatively into her mouth, caressing Hana’s until she believed she would explode. She sensed Logan’s ability to satisfy her deepest cravings for physical love and affection and pushed on, wanting more. Her breath came in steady gasps as her hunger for him increased, but he held all the aces.
“You are so gorgeous,” Logan sighed, brushing the side of her mouth with his lips. Hana relaxed, feeling happy, yet overwhelmingly vulnerable. Logan didn’t pursue anything more physical and Hana was at the same time relieved and disappointed, not sure what she would have done if he had.
Eventually, he hauled himself up and sat, o
ne leg bent, the other stretched out, shielding his eyes from the sun whilst pinpointing its position in the sky. “We should head back soon.”
Hana felt instantly sad at the thought of leaving. It was so beautiful and the weekend was going too soon. She tried to delay the moment, lying back on the blanket in the sunshine and asking another question, “When did your parents start the hotel?”
“After we all left,” came the reply, “suddenly it was too big, too rambling and everything the farm earned was swallowed by the house. They mortgaged the place and renovated it. It took off big time. They don’t advertise or put up signs. It’s called the Du Rose conference centre but everyone just calls it the hotel. There aren’t any others in this area. People know it’s here and book. Usually they’re full, it’s unusual for them to be this empty. It freed up the horse stud and the Charolaise beef business to make and keep its own money. I...Dad stopped dairying. We’ve thought about going back into it now it’s booming but it’s too hard to go backwards. It does ok.”
Logan took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. It was such an endearing feature, made all the cuter by the fact that Hana saw his father do exactly the same thing when she caught him in the cupboard. Logan carried on speaking, “Dad’s got two stallions, a white Anglo Arab and an Appaloosa. They’re good stock and people pay to have their mares come here. Then the foals stay for a while; sometimes we break them in as well. It ticks over nicely.”
Hana thought about Logan and Tama and the distinctive grey eyes that betrayed their heritage. Something about it troubled her, disturbed some memory of hers from long ago but it was like trying to snatch fog, the closer she got to it the further it drifted, exasperating her. Hana reached out and laid her hand on Logan’s thigh and he looked down thoughtfully, covering her fingers with his. She smiled and he leaned over her, kissing her gently on the lips. Hana put both arms around his neck, wanting to pull him down but he resisted. Then he stood up to go, breaking the moment as easily as he brushed the loose grass from his clothing. Hana felt the flicker of irritation and worked hard to put it to rest.