Hana Du Rose Mysteries Boxed Set: Books 1 - 4

by Bowes, K T

  She reached her arms out towards Logan to be pulled off the ground like a child. Logan grasped both her hands and raised her gently up. Hana felt so safe with him and in some odd way, it was a relief. He didn’t let go of her hands but held onto them, linking their fingers and pulling her in towards him. He stared deeply into her thoughts again, or at least that was how it felt. Then he leaned in for another smouldering kiss. Hana put her arms around his firm waist but the sudden appearance of the horses swirling around them broke the spell. Digger came up behind Hana and rubbed his forehead on her back, pushing harder and harder until she almost fell over. She squealed and tried to move away, but the horse was persistent.

  “I think he’s jealous.” Logan stated, catching hold of Sacha’s head collar as she came close enough to grab. He led her over to the tack, his other hand still holding Hana’s. Digger followed along behind as Logan must have known he would. Logan became business like and clipped in his task, but Hana sensed there was something wrong. An awkward distance had opened up between them. Abruptly he turned towards her and struggling with his words, asked, “Do you think…do you think we could have a future together? Do you like me enough?”

  He squirmed with discomfort and his courage failed in his eyes so fast, Hana felt overwhelming compassion for him. She searched her heart and sensed her answer couldn’t be given too quickly or he wouldn’t believe her. “Yes, I feel we have something special.” She shook her head. “I don’t really want it to end, if that’s what you’re asking. I’d love to keep doing...what we’re doing.”

  Logan swallowed and looked profoundly relieved. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners and relaxed as he re-tacked the horses, comfortable around what he knew best. Hana handed him items and held Sacha while Digger was reluctantly squeezed back into his girth. She put her riding hat on her head but struggled with the chin strap. Logan clicked it shut for her, kissing her gently and sliding his hands around her waist. He pulled her body into his and Hana felt the world spin. Logan turned away just as she wanted more. They walked together through the paddock to the gate, each of them leading their mount and holding hands in the middle. “You know, it’s really weird,” Hana began. “When I’m around you, I get this feeling of déjà vu. It’s so odd.”

  Logan looked at her strangely, his eyes crinkling in the corners and making him look sultry. Hana felt like a giggly sixteen year old again with her first crush. Actually that was a lie. She was eighteen and Vik had been her first crush. The thought made her feel odd, like she watched two entirely different parts of herself. When she was with Logan, she hardly ever thought about Vik. Was that normal? She looked at Logan sideways, his long black eyelashes swishing over his cheek as he watched out for the huge rabbit holes hidden underneath the long grass. He was good looking and she wondered again why he would like her. She wasn’t exactly ugly, but she could imagine him with a leggy blonde, not a gangly redhead with big green eyes and freckles. They plodded on companionably and when they reached the gate, used the fence to mount up after Logan had unlocked and then relocked the paddock behind them.

  Logan had promised Hana they would return a different way, avoiding the washout and she hoped he hadn’t forgotten. As they hit the bush again, he turned off left and skirted round it on a track that was barely visible. There were fewer gates to open this way and the route wasn’t so hilly. Hana felt much more comfortable. “This horse is so gorgeous,” she called to Logan, patting Digger’s neck. The horse’s ears flicked backwards and forwards every time she spoke. At one point, they plunged back into the bush but stayed on less drastically changing ground following a fence line. In the distance Hana saw a sprawling timber clad house, spread out across a large piece of land. “Who lives there?” she asked, pointing.

  “It’s Uncle Reuben’s place,” Logan told her but didn’t expand on it any further.

  Popping back out of the bush twenty minutes later, they hit upon a fence line which visibly took Logan by surprise. He dismounted and walked along it, cursing slightly at the gravel road which stretched out on the other side. Down the hill from the timber house, more minor roads split off. They hadn’t been visible from uphill. Further along it became evident a residential development was under construction. Logan went quickly from disbelief to anger and said a vile swearword Hana had not expected from him, finishing with, “Bloody bastard!”

  He glanced up at Hana and apologised, mounting Sacha and continuing the journey back to his parents’ house. He never mentioned the fence or the road again, but his mood was heavy and brooding for the rest of the trip down the mountain.

  Back at the stables, Hana dismounted more elegantly this time and didn’t complain overly much when Jack took her horse and led him into the courtyard for un-tacking. By the time Hana had fiddled and fought with the clip on the riding hat, managing to undo it on the fiftieth attempt, Logan already had Sacha un-tacked and ran a hose pipe lightly over her back. The horse’s flesh crept with the sensation, her head drooped and her eyes closed in silent appreciation. Hana offered to wash Digger, but Jack waved her away furiously. He kept putting his thumbs up to her and beaming. Hana braved her lost sign language to thank him for his help and his mouth dropped wide open. “You’re welcome,” he signed in the universal language and grinned his toothless smile until his face almost split.

  Logan carried his heavy saddle to the tack room and Hana washed Sacha’s bit under the yard tap. She felt the tension just by being around him but after such a great afternoon, found it hard to understand why he would suddenly behave this way.

  Her confidence started to ebb away and after a glance at her uneasy expression, he took the bridle from her outstretched hand. “I’ve had the nicest day with you. Thank you. You’re everything I knew you would be,” he said and as he looked at her, he smiled.

  Logan wrapped his strong arms around her and Hana felt a little less afraid, but anxiety lurked within her heart, as she answered, “Same.”

  As they walked back to the house, the curiousness of his statement played on her mind. What did he think she would be like? It’s not like they’d ever met before this year. His behaviour made her wonder if he regretted asking her a question which at the time, seemed so important to him. As Logan’s silence continued, it made her regret answering.

  Logan’s mother insisted Hana have a nice bath before dinner, once she saw how tired and sore she was. “There’s a party of a hundred coming and the kitchen will be busy for a few hours. Why don’t you take these bath salts and relax for a while.” Miriam pressed a box of bath crystals into Hana’s hand. Something flashed in the younger woman’s memory and then dissipated instantly, like mist. Hana smiled her thanks, rubbing at her forehead as she left the room.

  The kitchen was full of people brandishing vol-au-vents and hot savouries and the dining room and ballroom bustled with activity as the staff set up for the gathering expected soon. Hana climbed the stairs to her room, retracing her journey of the morning. Her eyes were sightless as Miriam’s look haunted her inner vision. Hana saw her own pale hand reaching out for the box and Miriam’s smiling face. Something jarred within her, the feeling of having been there before, accepting something from the older woman’s brown fingers. Hana wracked her brain for answers, but nothing came to her. The familiar thread of memory remained locked tightly away for Hana’s protection, eluding her attempts to drag it forward. The feeling wouldn’t go away.

  “Go and get a drink. I won’t be long,” Logan had promised, disappearing down the corridor. The few minutes turned into an hour, leaving Hana to work out access to her room by herself, armed with the spare card Miriam lent her. Hana settled down in the deep bath to relax, trying not to focus on her stretch marks, a recent bad habit. She put her phone on the side of the bath and listened to music. Pete North loaded a few tunes on for her a few months before and the little red phone skittered around in the soap tray. Hana hummed along, missing the gentle tap on her bedroom door.

  Logan leaned his forehead on the pane
lled wood and took deep breaths to calm his temper. The argument with Alfred was vitriolic. “You did what?” Logan yelled as the old man faced him down.

  “Youse weren’t bloody here!” his father shouted back. “Youse left man! You ran away, just like you always do, so don’t complain about the decisions I made in your absence!”

  Logan turned away from Hana’s door and pressed his broiling emotion back down into the swirling vat which Logan Du Rose carried around with him permanently.

  Chapter 32

  Hana felt refreshed after her bath and dressed again. Her washed hair hung in long red ringlets down her back, almost to her waist. A good haircut recently stopped it being pouffy. Her new hairdresser was a stout lady of the older generation of hairdressers, with hair exactly the same texture as Hana’s. She razor cut it and Hana was relieved, forgetting to bring her straighteners on the trip.

  The guests arrived and the party was in full swing. Many of them were sleeping over, seeing as the volume around her increased tenfold. Loud music issued from somewhere, accompanied by the bang of doors and squeal of women’s voices. Hana sat on the bed fiddling with the remote for the TV, eventually reaching instead for the novel she brought with her. She loosely considered getting out the cardigan she was knitting for Elizabeth, but it was a complicated cable pattern and demanded full concentration which she currently couldn’t give.

  Hana read to page four of the book before surprisingly falling asleep, considering the noise around her. She woke herself up when the book fell from her hand and crashed to the floor. Looking at the clock, she realised it was gone seven and she was starving hungry. The kitchen would be busy and she would get in everyone’s way if she tried to make something. She contemplated wandering into the back of the party and helping herself to some of the lovely vol-au-vents she noticed but dismissed the idea quickly. Hana roused herself from the bed and boiled the kettle, using the room’s tea and coffee facilities.

  As she shook one of the sachets of coffee into the little cup provided, she heard a knock on her door. Logan stood outside balancing a tray against the wall and his stomach. He used one hand to knock and then struggled to stop the tray tipping. The hand he used to rap on the door also contained another bottle of wine, this time a full-size one. Hana took the tray from him, noticing gratefully the two steaming plates of macaroni cheese and a huge hunk of fresh bread. From his back pocket, Logan produced two sets of cutlery and from each of his front pockets, a salt and pepper. Hana felt so grateful to see the food she had trouble preventing herself from burying her face in one of the plates like a piglet. She decided she probably wasn’t secure enough in the relationship yet for plate licking.

  Logan opened the doors onto the balcony and stepped outside, retreating back in once he discovered a number of guests with rooms either side of Hana, shouting to each other across her balcony. “Bloody animals,” he complained, his face clouding over. He was obviously irritated by the behaviour of the hotel guests and abandoned his plan to eat alfresco, closing the doors and settling down on the bed with his plate on his knee. Hana noted he wore the same jeans and still seemed restless and upset, but chose to ignore it. Logan looked tired and careworn and dark stubble shrouded the lower part of his face. He scoffed his macaroni cheese and half the bread. He hadn’t brought butter but it was so tasty it didn’t need it. He finished way before Hana and lay back against the pillows while she ate more slowly. He was still pensive, but seemed to relax in Hana’s company. Clearly she was good for him. “So tell me more about your husband?”

  The question took Hana by surprise, causing her to splutter on a piece of macaroni. Her appetite fled. Hana laid her half eaten plate by the side of the bed. “I’m not sure where to start.” She felt strangely shy, answering the question with one of her own, “What do you want to know?”

  Logan wanted to know how they met and where the wedding photo was taken, the one on her wall at Achilles Rise. Hana kept her replies short and evasive. “Tell me about your kids,” he asked. Logan managed to seem casual about his probing, as though it didn’t matter what was revealed and Hana found herself loosening up as she spoke about Bodie and Izzie. She didn’t dwell on how Vik died, glossing quickly over the endless months of misery afterwards as she tried to work out how to pay the electricity bill over the internet and fought with the insurance company who quibbled over paying out on the car Vik died in. She briefly talked about the agony of her children who fatherless, tried to carry on as normal, while her son crumbled inwardly under his hidden anguish. Logan nodded at that, recognising the teeth marks of grief.

  “I became a Christian when I was thirty,” Hana said, feeling a little embarrassed at discussing faith issues with her new love interest. She watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye for a reaction, but saw nothing. Logan picked absently at a thread of cotton on the duvet cover. His fingers pulled at it during and after the revelation without change and his face remained impassive. “It’s why I feel so strongly about not having sex before marriage.” It was another potential bombshell. I already made that mistake, her heart cried, and it destroyed everything.

  Logan raised an eyebrow slightly but again, didn’t react. “What about your parents,” he asked and much to Hana’s surprise, she found that harder to talk about.

  “Mum was deaf from birth. She was an amazing Irishwoman, I get my hair colour from her. She died after Bo was born…” Hana trailed off, remembering the last time she saw her mother and shut her eyes against the awful memory.

  “What about your father?” Logan asked, curious.

  “He was an Anglican minister,” she replied shortly, “and he’s dead too.”

  Logan’s brow knitted at her tone. “Didn’t you get on with him?”

  Hana bit her lip harder than she intended, selecting the right words to give him. Finally her answer was stilted, “I made a mistake. He couldn’t forgive me and what he felt was the impact on his reputation. He threw me out of his home and I didn’t see my mother alive again.”

  She heard Logan exhale as he lay with his head on the pillow. Hana let herself lie down next to him, knowing he was probably wondering what terrible crime would cause a vicar to throw his own daughter out for good. The pain crushed her chest like a bag of frozen peas, still as fresh as the day the words were spoken, ‘Get out!’ She quelled the sickness in her stomach and leaned up on her right arm, her face close to Logan’s. “The thing is,” she said in a whisper, “what I did was…”

  He pulled her towards him in a strong movement, his fingers gripping her left shoulder hard, guiding her down so he could kiss her. She tasted the wine on his lips, felt her stomach drop almost to her knees and relaxed into the pleasure of it. He leaned over and held her tightly, kissing her lips, hair, neck and face but wouldn’t let her speak. Hana acknowledged with a little skip of fear mixed with excitement that she had never felt like this before, not even in her marriage. It made her feel dishonorable and conflicted, but it also felt so good, she couldn’t stop. Logan respected her and didn’t push his luck. He kissed her until she was breathless and then held her.

  It was a surprise to Hana to discover they had cuddled for a good couple of hours when she next glanced at the clock. They snuggled back against the pillows, Hana’s head nestled in the crook of Logan’s arm and he stroked her hair gently, enjoying the glossy, smooth texture of it even though it was still damp. He hadn’t asked her any more questions and baulked at her impassioned plea. “Logan, nobody at work knows anything about my past. I don’t really want them to.”

  He seemed offended she should even have to voice it. “Your secrets are your own,” he reassured her, “same as mine belong to me.”

  “I didn’t realise you and Pete were friends since school, or that you went through university together either,” Hana commented.

  “Yeah, he was a dick even back then,” Logan laughed. “He’s a total freak of nature.”

  She should have guessed. The familiarity they shared evidently came from yea
rs of friendship and more than just a few months of house sharing. The other thing she hadn’t known was that Angus taught Logan at the grammar, many years ago. The puzzle pieces fit together neatly in a jigsaw which Hana hadn’t realised needed solving, making perfect sense as they clicked into place.

  Hana was happy lying on the bed next to Logan. She enjoyed his proximity and how he made her feel safe. She stroked his fingers with her own, looking closely at all the little scars and old cuts, asking about each of them in turn. There were lots of them. “Barbed wire, that one was a rusty nail in the tack shed, that one was a fight and needed four stitches...”

  “A fight? Om. Were you a naughty boy?”

  Logan smirked. “Sometimes. I took care of myself.”

  A tap on the door around ten o’clock disturbed them. Logan was tickling Hana and she giggled like a child, feeling instantly guilty when the knock came. “Sorry, am I making too much noise?” she worried.

  Logan hefted himself off the bed with a shake of his head and opened the door. Miriam stood in the hallway bearing another tray, this time with hot drinks on it. Logan held the door open wide and Hana ran her hand through her mussed hair, trying to put it straight. She felt like a naughty schoolgirl caught in bed with a teenage boy. Actually that wasn’t as funny as it sounded in view of her failed confession to Logan about her past.

  Hana sat up, gratefully accepting the tea Logan took off the tray for her. He grabbed his and sat back down on the bed. To Hana’s surprise, Miriam took the third mug and plonked herself down in an armchair by the window. “Geez, this lot are hard work,” she sighed, slurping her drink eagerly, “they’ve already eaten all the food, drunk all the drink included in the cost and are driving your father mad, wanting this, that and the other.”