by Bowes, K T
Hana twisted and turned so many times she almost lost her bearings, almost but not quite. She could no longer see the BMW in her rear view mirror, but had no doubt it was still in pursuit. The Honda nipped easily through the turns until suddenly Hana spotted her salvation, a brick bungalow at the end of a cul-de-sac. The garage door was raised to admit Cilla’s small Nissan Micra, which was in the process of being eased into its space between a tumble dryer and single chest freezer. The empty space to Cilla was for her husband’s station wagon, but he wasn’t yet home. Hana sped up the drive, braking at the last possible moment and shot into the vacant space in the double garage. Ramming on the footbrake, she didn’t even wait to kill the engine before running from the car amidst Tiger’s frantic yowling. Hana slammed her hand on the door release button. The huge roller door crunched and creaked closed, shutting out the daylight and the black BMW, which surely must be cruising around looking for its victim. Only when the door was completely closed, did Hana bend double and vomit on the concrete floor in a most unladylike manner.
Cilla phoned the police and Bodie, while Hana cleaned herself up in the bathroom. Her knees felt like jelly and her clean-up operation was continually delayed by the need to retch again and again over the toilet. The sobs caught in her throat and made her splutter as the contents of her stomach and the lovely lunch with her son were lost.
When Hana finally emerged, Cilla held her in a welcome hug for a long time while they both sat on a brown sofa in the living room. “The police are coming, love. Whatever is wrong?”
“Can we shut the curtains, please?” Hana begged and couldn’t settle until Cilla closed them all. Then she sat hugging a sugary cup of tea. At one point, Hana gasped and jumped up, spilling her drink down herself before rushing into the garage to shut the blinds on the side windows. “He’ll find me!” she panicked. “He’ll look in the windows and he won’t stop until he finds me.” Hana was in no doubt about that and she was terrified out of her mind. “They can’t find me. Please don’t let them find me.”
Bodie spoke reassuringly to her over the phone, “I’ll talk to someone at the station, Mum. I’m so sorry, I can’t come back again. Not yet. I only just got back. I’ll make some calls, we’ll get this sorted.”
Hana was desperately unhappy, but that was nothing compared to the bile with which Tiger greeted anyone who approached his cage, perched precariously on the front passenger seat of the Honda. He hissed and spat fit to bust and Cilla had no idea what to do with him. “He’s a ferocious little thing, isn’t he?” she commented, stepping back quickly as the black and white demon launched himself at the cage bars.
The police came at the same time as Logan. Hana went almost hysterical at the sight of them all, convinced the BMW driver would know where she had gone once he saw their vehicles outside Cilla’s house. The policemen were plain-clothes detectives, far too youthful to be convincing, despite assuring Hana they were driving an unmarked car which turned out to be an elderly green utility vehicle. “They’ll know,” Hana wailed, “they’ll find me.”
Logan was on his bike which he parked around the side under the dining room window. At Hana’s continued misery, Cilla went out and covered the bike with a sheet. Only then could Hana calm enough to provide details of what happened, acknowledging that actually the circumstances seemed decidedly iffy once she finally began to explain. “A BMW followed me out of the driveway and up the road.”
“So what?” the younger of the policemen replied far too casually as he made scanty notes in his pocketbook.
“I saw the driver’s face,” she implored them, “and it was the same man who burst into my home and ransacked my belongings!”
Both cops looked sceptical but heard her out, scribbling in their pocketbooks as she explained over and over the reason for her sudden, uninvited entrance into poor Cilla’s garage. “They hurt me,” she said, holding up her palm and showing the stitches.
Logan sat quietly next to Hana on the sofa, holding her shaking right hand in his, stroking her wrist to avoid her wound. Hana was comforted by his presence, but confused as to how he found her. She enjoyed the physical nearness of him anyway and the safety he exuded. Her stomach churned at the thought of having stolen him away from Caroline yet again and she pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to throw up anymore. Last night’s resolutions about never kissing him ever again, seemed to have been made in a different life, as Hana clung to the lifeline Logan offered.
After the cops left, Logan made a quick call to Bodie from the back garden. “They don’t believe her, mate. They think she’s imagining things. They’ve logged it all, but they aren’t taking her seriously.”
Bodie was livid. He outranked both of the detectives who sat complacently in Cilla’s living room, drinking her tea and dispelling Hana’s fears with empty platitudes. For the moment, he was unsure how to proceed. After talking Cilla into swapping vehicles with Hana for the weekend, Bodie rang off and prepared to call in some favours down at the police station in Hamilton. This had gone on long enough. He was not prepared to stand by and watch someone use his mother as bait.
Logan loaded Hana’s possessions into Cilla’s little Micra and put the spitting cat on the back seat next to the vacuum, still in his cage, making sure his fingers were well away from the sharp claws threatening through the bars. Reluctantly Hana handed the Honda keys over to her friend and followed Logan back to the Gordonton house, as he rode his bike ahead of her.
When Cilla’s unwitting husband came home from his job as a physiotherapist shortly after six, she had an excellent tale to tell, involving Hana from church and a black BMW. She had gained a Honda and lost a Micra, which on reflection she wasn’t awfully comfortable about.
Logan picked up some gear and accompanied Hana back to Culver’s Cottage. He decided on impulse that the truck was possibly not the best mode of transport as Hana borrowed it for so long it was probably recognisable. He packed his bag into the Micra and they travelled together. Cilla obligingly put both of them onto her car insurance over the phone, so Logan drove. He wore a black baseball cap and Cilla lent Hana a hooded fleece so she could cover up her distinctive auburn hair. It was dark as they reached the cottage. “Stay here,” Logan insisted, getting out of the car and leaving the engine running while he checked around for intruders. He found nobody there and Hana felt reassured by the fact that everything was as she left it. She suddenly saw the sense in the gates Bodie insisted on.
“I wish they were already installed.” Hana rubbed her hand over her eyes, frustrated when she caught the stitches in her palm for the millionth time. “Ow-er!” she complained, flashing her beautiful redheaded temper. Logan pursed his lips and gave her the sultriest look, like in some strange way it made her even more desirable.
Inside, Hana was finally able to let Tiger out. He sprang nimbly out of the cage and shot off down to the other end of the house to explore, his fur standing up on end in warning. He sat in the middle of Hana’s bed with a cross look on his face, conflict-licking his paws until they were soaked and shiny. Hana put down a bowl of food and set out the litter tray he would have to use for the next few days, until she was sure he had settled and wasn’t about to run away and be killed on the fast Hakarimata Road. “What if he tries to find his way back to Hamilton?” she worried. “Damn, I never thought of that. What should I do?”
“No idea, sorry,” Logan replied, nosing around in the fridge. There was little food. “Thank goodness I grabbed those bits and pieces on the way through Huntly,” he commented, looking at Hana pacing around the hallway. While he was in the supermarket, Hana had laid down in the passenger seat hiding, much to the shock of a passing trolley pusher as she sat up to brush her hair out of her mouth. Logan watched her for a while longer, the highly strung female reminding him a lot of Sacha.
Logan started putting the food. The fridge door was open a bit too long and sounded its warning beep. “Sorry,” Logan had become distracted in his job by the sight of some biscuits and a
reminder he hadn’t eaten since lunch. He wiped the crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand and pushed the fridge door shut with his foot, trying at the same time to fill the kettle.
Hana leaned against the pantry door, looking absently around the newly painted kitchen. “What a bloody mess,” she sighed, her eyes blank as she contemplated her tumultuous life.
“I thought it looked ok,” Logan replied, looking around at the clean walls and the shiny floor.
“My life!” Hana exploded. “My stupid, messy life!”
Logan glanced at her, ignoring her hysterics and unsure what to say or do. He set the kettle to boil, wiped his hands on his trousers and walked over to Hana, putting his arms tightly around her. She was rigid and unyielding and felt shockingly cold. He held her for a while trying to warm her before kissing her forehead. “Why don’t you have a drink and something to eat?” he asked, his voice muffled in her hair.
Hana shook her head. She still felt sick and a hard lump in her chest wouldn’t seem to go away. She stayed where he left her while Logan pottered around the kitchen making her a drink of tea anyway. He had to physically make her sit down at the table to drink it, pushing her in front of him and pulling out a chair for her. He disappeared off and Hana picked at a blob of paint on the table and listened to the sound of running water. “You stupid, stupid woman!” she berated herself, squeezing her fists into her eyes. “Why did you have to wish for excitement and love? It all sucks!”
After ten minutes, Logan appeared with her dressing gown and a clean towel. “Come on, a nice bath will help you relax. I’ll open a bottle of wine and bring you some.”
Hana felt touched and special when she saw he had lit some tea lights around the room and found bubble bath from somewhere. She leaned in and allowed the bubbles on the surface of the water to attach to her hand and then sniffed them. The scent of orchid and lily went up her nose and made her cough. Logan began to exit the room quietly as Hana stood in the middle of the floor, until she turned towards his retreating back. “I’m so sick of feeling like this. When’s it going to end?”
Logan chewed on his bottom lip, his fingers holding the door handle. He turned towards her questioning face. The answer was not his to give and he didn’t want to lie to her with platitudes and remarks that glossed over the seriousness of what she was living out. Instead, he gave her the only thing he had left, physical comfort and solidarity, holding her tight and kissing her on her face and cheeks and finally her lips. As Hana pulled back and looked up into his eyes, both knew it was a pivotal moment. Every fibre of his being wanted to accelerate the relationship into permanence, to take her to bed and make her forget everything but him and something in her eyes told him she wouldn’t refuse.
It took an immense amount of courage and self-will for them to get past the moment, but something moved and clicked within their relationship and even though nothing happened, the potential had been there and new ground opened up in front of them. “I love you so much,” Logan whispered. “Why won’t you let me show you that you can trust me?”
“Can I really?” Her voice held overt sarcasm and Logan looked stung. He moved his hands slowly up either side of her waist and she shivered, desperate to resist him but recognising the signs of her heart finally ignoring her screaming head.
“I’ve done nothing to betray you, Hana. And I won’t. I promise.” He bent his head and kissed her on the side of her face and then her neck. A series of hypnotic prickles tingled through her nerve endings and she felt her stomach go into free fall.
It was a yawning chasm of temptation, but Hana had been there before and it ended badly. Logan, perfectly attuned to her, felt the glimmer of hesitation and fear and stopped himself exerting any of the selfish impulses which sprang instantly to mind. To his own surprise, he heard himself utter two words he promised himself he would never ever speak again, “Marry me.”
Chapter 46
Hana’s face registered first shock, then surprise followed by realisation. “I’ve got stretch marks,” she said and then clapped her hand over her mouth in horror.
Logan laughed. Hana stared up at him, cocking her head to one side like a little bird, studying more than the external features but the very heartbeat of him. The idea settled on her like a comfortable mantle. Her hand strayed to his cheek and she felt the stubble pushing through under his skin. Staring deep into his captivating grey eyes, Hana ran her finger down the familiar scar under his eye, feeling him tremble under her touch.
In her mind’s eye, she saw the awkward man she first met in the staff room and felt the subsequent flutter in her stomach when she saw him in the distance or thought he might catch her eye at work. There was so much she didn’t know about him. Unwrapping Logan Du Rose was like peeling an onion layer by layer, with the chance of tears the further in she got. There was too much to resolve, so many conversations to be had and yet, she knew she was in love with him.
She picked her words carefully. She knew what she said would be recounted in detail over and over by both of them. It had to be right. “I want to,” she said finally, spoiling the moment by adding, “but...I’m really, really angry with you. I...”
Logan exhaled in a rush, placing his index finger over her lips and refusing to let her speak out anything else. She told him she wanted to and that was all he was prepared to hear. He kept on kissing her, getting eye contact with Hana in between each gentle, taunting touch until she knew despite it all, she wasn’t going to be able to refuse him anything. Keeping hold of her hands, he dropped to one knee, looking intently up at her. He asked her again, “Hana, will you marry me?”
Against her own will, she knew she was starting to smile and put her hand up over her face to hide from him. Standing up, Logan pulled her hand away, careful not to hurt her stitches and moving in close to her, he looked into her eyes and asked the question with his soul. It was as though a fragile, silken thread of connection strengthened and reinforced; something that always existed between them finally became as solid as an iron bar. To know she had been loved for so long was overpowering and exhilarating, but there was another knowledge there too. Logan would never give up on her, never go away and resume his life without her. He was not going to accept no for an answer.
Part of Hana rebelled, but the bigger part, the tired and lonely part, felt relief, gratitude and safety.
“I’ve loved you since I was fourteen, Hana,” Logan whispered. “It can’t be a surprise that I don’t want to spend another moment of my life away from you. I searched for you, Hana. I scoured every continent in case you were there. I want to spend my life with you. I always did.”
Hana nodded and Logan’s eyes widened at the same time as his brow knitted in confusion. “Are you nodding because you understand how I feel or because...” He bit his lip.
“Yes, I want to marry you,” she said, sounding beaten and Logan’s face broke into a smile, tentatively at first and then with real delight. He squeezed her tightly, burying his face in her neck and hair, telling her over and over that he loved her. To her surprise, Hana felt no instant sense of misgiving, or the usual second-guessing of her own split decisions, often leading to hasty backtracking. She just felt peace and the realisation she no longer had to do any of this on her own. Finally someone loved her.
Reluctantly Logan pulled away, realising he should leave the room for her to get into her cooling bath. He let her go and then reaching the door, spun around in his socks and came back for another kiss. Finally, with great self-control he left the room and went down the hallway. He desperately resisted the urge to yell with uncontrollable happiness and relief, but succumbed to punching the air with his fist. He busied himself in the kitchen, boiling a kettle he wouldn’t use and making a ham sandwich he then couldn’t eat. The shadow of Caroline Marsh for the moment was pushed to the depths of his history, but something in his consciousness gave her a momentary thought, recognising she would not be banished as easily as that.
Hana came from the bat
hroom refreshed and feeling less sick, dressed in pyjamas with monkeys on the fleecy pants and a big monkey on the top, which confidently stated, ‘I’m trying to sleep!’ It was an old set Izzie got her one Christmas. They were warm and comfy and Hana had worn them almost to death. The bath overheated her and while she wore a dressing gown for decency, it was far too restricting and hot.
Hana sat down at the kitchen table and studied Logan as he carried on absentmindedly with the marking he shoved into his overnight bag. It was something to busy himself with as he processed the massive life shift that had ambushed him. He worried fretfully that Hana would emerge from the bathroom having changed her mind or worse, having thought it was a joke.
They sat in silence; Logan scribbling away on the exercise books changing ticks to crosses and back again, before giving up altogether, shutting the ink blotted pages with a snap. Eventually, he persuaded himself to look up. He needed to, but something inside him was afraid when he did, the moment of elation would have been irretrievably broken. He saw as he peered out from under his eyelashes that Hana looked soft and fluffy in her robe, although overheated and flustered. A brown monkey looked threateningly out at him from her pyjama top, with stroppy monkey eyes and a mouth shaped in a little ‘o’ of displeasure.