Hana Du Rose Mysteries Boxed Set: Books 1 - 4

by Bowes, K T

  “Yeah, he was an awesome scorer,” Logan remarked. Completely ignoring Hana and her frothing sample, they continued reminiscing about certain famous goals and fouls, none of which meant anything to her.

  Irritated, Hana cleared her throat. Looking guilty, the doctor took the pot of urine, having thrust his hands into a pair of latex gloves first and shoved a number of different sticks inside. He poured amounts of it into other, smaller tubes. He left one pot sat on a piece of hand towel to brew, while he tested another.

  “Is it like making homebrew?” Logan joked and Hana raised her eyebrows, wanting to avoid any more humiliation and wishing her husband would take it seriously now she had let him into her pregnant world.

  After a few moments of awkward silence with Logan knowing he was in disgrace, the doctor gave his verdict. “Yes, definitely pregnant but this is showing traces of blood in your urine. I suspect you have a slight kidney infection. That might also account for some of your vomiting.”

  The doctor carefully labelled the different tubes for sending off to the lab. Logan watched with fascination and Hana felt herself grow increasingly pink with embarrassment. She cringed inwardly and regretted allowing Logan to come in with her.

  The doctor fussed and bustled around, getting her to lie down so he could check her stomach, take her blood pressure and listen to her heart, lungs and anything else in there he was interested in.

  “I think you are probably right about your dates. It feels like the end of the first trimester to me,” he smiled down at her, as Hana struggled to suppress an undignified fart. The doctor continued to palpitate her tummy and Hana was horrified to see Logan appear at the end of the bed, squeezing into the miniscule space between the metal and the wall. Hana’s stomach was hot and clammy under the doctor’s cold hands and she felt the wind growl threateningly again as he pressed into her flesh. He wasn’t unkind, but the feeling was uncomfortable and she seriously feared she would accidentally let rip under the pressure of his hands and end up parting her husband’s hair.

  The doctor used an ancient tape to measure from Hana’s groin to her sternum and Logan’s eyes flicked over his fingers with intense interest. The examination was over quickly and the doctor stepped back, swishing the screen curtain behind him so Hana could straighten her clothing out. She hopped off the bed and pushed her feet back into her trainers.

  Reaching her seat, Hana looked back at Logan, who didn’t appear to have moved, noticing the look of dismay on his face. “I’m a bit stuck.”

  The conversation went somewhat downhill after the doctor wasted time cutting a hole in Logan’s work pants, mid-thigh, in order to release him from the sharp piece of metal at the end of the bed. It caught on the material, gashing into his trouser leg and causing it to rip. The threads from the cloth then wound themselves around the point of the metal, preventing Logan from coming back out of the small space. Logan emerged from the gap bleeding, with a tear in his pants. Bonding of an intimate nature occurred with the doctor, who had to lie face down on the bed to reach with his scissors.

  “Oh, Logan!” Hana felt mortified, alternating between extreme annoyance and a desire to laugh hopelessly. Adding insult to the literal injury, the receptionist presented Hana with an invoice on the way out, for the extra-long appointment. Hana thrust it at Logan to pay while she headed out into the darkness and got into the car. When he finally appeared, he limped over and got into the passenger seat as Hana already had the engine running and the heat blowing out of the air vent. He kept his hand pressed over the rip in his pant leg and squirmed in his seat.

  Hana wanted to tell him what an idiot he was, especially as the doctor forgot in all the drama, to write down the name of the midwife he recommended. But Logan seemed to be in genuine pain, so she kept her annoyance to herself, gunning the Honda up the slope to the house and parking downstairs in the garage. Logan limped up the stairs and went straight to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He evidently felt an idiot so Hana left him to it, putting the kettle on and staring out of the window at the freezing darkness beyond.

  Logan’s cup of coffee chilled on the kitchen table as Hana rustled up food for their evening meal. She called him twice but when he didn’t answer or come through, she left the pot of potatoes to simmer on the hob and went in search of him. Logan sat on the floor of the bathroom, his trousers round his ankles, mopping at his upper leg. The cut was deep and jagged and Hana was instantly cross he refused the doctor’s offer to look at it, making out it was nothing. “Logan, you’re such an idiot!”

  Hana kneeled down and peered into the wound. It looked clean, but the fatty layers were exposed quite badly and the cut itself was around five centimetres long. “I need to take you back down to the Medical Centre,” she began but before she could finish, Logan pushed her hand away and objected.

  “No! I’m not going back. That bloody receptionist will have a field day laughing at me. She looked at me today like I had something hanging off. I’m not giving her the satisfaction.”

  He refused to go and in the end Hana cleaned it up as best she could and butterfly stitched it with some strong fabric tape from the bathroom cabinet. It oozed continually and in desperation, she grabbed some Manuka oil, doused the area covered by the fabric stitches and put a wound pad over the top. She taped that down and then sat back. “At least they gave you a tetanus jab in hospital,” Hana remarked, still crouched on the floor. Logan nodded, looking alarmed as they heard the sound of the potatoes boiling over onto the hob.

  Hana shot off out of the bathroom to sort it out. Logan hobbled down to the kitchen in his shirt and boxers to find Hana trying to wipe the starchy mess off the hob while the thing was still red hot. She gave up when the cloth started to stick to it and turned her attention to the food. “It’s ok,” Logan said, sitting at the table and grabbing the handle of his drink, “it’s always like this, but it will stop. You get to know when it’s not going to and this will. Just may take a little while though. I’m fine.”

  He looked up at her then, from under his fringe, his eyelashes contacting his hair and making it bounce and flick as he blinked. Hana smiled over at him, loving him for his vulnerability right then, sitting in his undies sipping his luke-warm drink. “You looked a right prat!” She allowed herself the joke at his expense, now she knew he was all right, “Standing there with your pants welded to that bed and the doctor cutting you loose.” She sniggered, asking him, “Why did you wedge yourself down there anyway? What did you think was going to happen?”

  Logan stared into his mug, looking devastatingly handsome in his guilt. “I wanted to see. I want to know everything.”

  Hana turned back to her pans on the hob, poking the potatoes with a sharp knife and watching them slide slowly down its hilt. There was something so endearing about how Logan felt about the baby, his genuine excitement and sense of anticipation. Hana wished she could let go and enjoy the experience, but the fears were too great. They kept her awake at night and then swathed her in guilt about her own thoughts and emotions.

  She hadn’t realised she audibly sighed until Logan’s arms came round her and his face was buried in her neck. He moved his hands up underneath her hair, running his fingers up the back of her head in that way he always did, feeling the curls shifting like water. When he muttered he was sorry, Hana realised he misunderstood and believed she was upset at him. She turned towards him and let him snuggle into her. It was hard to break away from him, but Hana smelled the beef-burgers scorching under the grill and the sound of spitting fat threatening her spotless oven.

  Logan helped her to finish tea and serve it up on the big kitchen table. They had a companionable meal and an early night, having found something of the closeness which eluded them since the scene in the car park. They made love for the first time in ages, two battered, sorry souls looking for peace in a world which didn’t want them to find it.

  Hana Du Rose

  Chapter 26

  Hana was determined to enjoy the weeke
nd and slept late on Saturday, not stirring until after nine. She reached across the bed and was surprised to find it cold and empty, the duvet pulled roughly across the vacated space. Hana lay a while longer before getting up and padding, first to the bathroom and then down to the kitchen. There were signs of a hasty breakfast but no Logan. She trawled around the house looking for him, starting to worry slightly when there was no sign of him.

  As she was down in the garage looking for bin liners, Hana heard the gate alarm go off upstairs and the automatic door lifted. The Honda swept down the slope and into the garage as she stood there in her fluffy dressing gown and slippers feeling slightly silly. Logan leapt from the car as soon as the engine was off, seizing her in a hug and kissing her on her forehead. He looked exceptionally pleased with himself, releasing her to go to the boot of the car and produce some tins of paint. “Look what I got.” His voice was triumphant.

  Hana looked anxiously at the tins, wondering what colours Logan picked. She crouched down and stared at the tint label, relieved to see a delicate eggshell textured cream. Hana relaxed. There was nothing drastic there. She smiled at Logan’s enthusiasm. “I thought we could turn the room down the hall into a nursery,” he said, his face searching for her approval.

  Hana took a step back, shaking her head slightly as she understood. Logan grasped her forearms to hold her still, guilt instantly shrouding his expression. “Hana it’s going to be ok,” he said, “the doctor said you’ve made it past the hard bit…I thought we could be telling people and getting things ready…” His voice trailed off as Hana looked like she would cry, lack of understanding written all over his face. Finally, he said, “I don’t get this…I don’t get you right now…what am I missing?”

  They went back to bed and talked. Hana needed to spell it out to Logan. “I’m forty-five years old with a history of Down Syndrome in my immediate family. There’s so much that can go wrong and you don’t have a clue about the worries and fears going round and round in my head.” A huge sob punctuated her final sentence and Hana put her head in her hands. She sat up in bed, her body rigid with misery. “I don’t even know if this baby will survive being carried in a geriatric body and I’m so afraid all the time. I don’t want to feel anything for it, or you. I live in this bubble of protection because it’s safer, but then I end up so damn lonely. It’s impossible.”

  Logan’s face worked through a myriad of emotions, his grey eyes somber and his irises strangely light. “And Caroline’s accusations won’t have helped either…”

  “Don’t! Don’t even speak her name around me!” Hana pushed the covers away and tried to stand up, tangling her legs in the bedspread and almost falling. “I can’t get free of her. She’s everywhere I look! Her influence over you makes me want to throw up. I’ve been here before, being lied to and I’m not doing it again!”

  “What do you mean?” Logan sat up, his brow furrowed. “I haven’t lied to you, Hana. I don’t always tell you stuff, but I’ve never lied.” The sheets tumbled away from his chest, the muscles hard and defined in the dull light of a grey morning. Hana stared at the dusting of hair, fighting the urge to bury herself under the covers and press her face into her husband’s strength until she forgot everything else. But she couldn’t.

  “Where did you go the night I came home and told you what she said?” Hana’s jaw worked frantically as she gritted her teeth and her eyes pleaded with Logan for something he couldn’t give. His face creased in misery and he lay back against the pillows.

  “I needed to see someone.”

  “Caroline?” Hana’s voice came out as a sneer. “You went to see Caroline?”

  Logan shot up again, the sheets slithering provocatively past his nipple. “No! Geez is that what you thought?” Recollection and realisation came together. “Oh, crap, Hana. Sorry, I guess I can see how you would…”

  Hana stomped off towards the bedroom door, her feet still tangled in the trailing cover. She held onto the post of the bed surround to extract herself and Logan reached her before she could properly escape. “I never went to see Caroline. I promise you that. I should have stayed, I’m sorry.”

  “Where did you go?” Hana’s tone was accusing. Logan swallowed.

  “I…I’ve got some stuff going on you probably wouldn’t understand. It doesn’t affect anything to do with us. It’s business stuff, not personal. Nothing to do with psychotic women and phantom pregnancies. I promise.”

  Hana relaxed a little. He hadn’t been to see Caroline. It was all that mattered. The other call on Logan’s time seemed less of a problem for now. She let her husband enfold her in his arms and breathe reassurances into her hair. “Come back to bed,” he whispered. “Let me love you.”

  Tired, miserable and lacking the energy to fight, Hana allowed Logan to untangle her feet, pick her up and lay her gently on the bed, banishing everything else temporarily from her mind. All but the essence of him.

  The doctor signed Hana off for some blood tests to check the various changes in her bloods which would begin the process of recognising possible difficulties. Logan held his wife tightly while they discussed it. “Once the checks are over, I’ll feel better about things and more in control,” Hana promised. “At least I’ll know what I’m up against.” She ran her fingers lightly over the black tattoo on Logan’s shoulder, tracing the familiar strands and patterns around his skin. Her child would be contained within this whakapapa. He or she already was.

  The couple reached a level of understanding they hadn’t previously had. They talked, debated and shared but the conclusion was one they arrived at together. Whatever happened or was found, the baby was theirs and they both wanted him or her. Hana felt the dreadful weight in her heart lessen as Logan took up the slack and for the first time in weeks they pulled together. “It will be ok,” he promised, pressing his lips against her temple. “We can do this.”

  As Hana showered and dressed, Logan put his head around the door. “Hey, Pathlab at Rototuna is open until four today. Why don’t I run you there to get the bloods done?”

  Hana felt a chill in her soul, knowing as long as the process was in front of her at some distance, she could cope for today. Yet she acknowledged that to regain control, she needed to start being realistic. Now was as good a time as any.

  Quietly she finished her dressing and silently climbed into the car. There were risks attached to going to Rototuna outside of the wellbeing of her baby. Hana and Logan had been safe at the house and took lengths to use different routes to work each day. Going to the Pathlab in this location and leaving the Honda sat in its large and open car park, could attract the attention of the men who were presumably still after them. Hana’s heart pounded as they drew up into the open space. Logan parked deliberately around the back of the large KFC building, making the vehicle invisible from the two major passing roads.

  A member of staff emerged from the back door, making his way across to the skip nearby wielding a collapsed cardboard box which he rammed into the metal bin. He turned and saw Logan and Hana emerging from the car and his face took on a you-can’t-park-here look. Logan smiled and waved and suddenly the man’s face broke into a smile. “Hey Sir, you here for food?” He walked across towards them.

  Logan gave him the kiwi upward nod of acknowledgement. “Hey Shaun, didn’t know you worked here. Good on you! We have some stuff to do over there. Is it ok to park the car here?”

  The young man’s posture altered as he pulled himself up to his full height. “Awesome Sir and Miss, it’s fine. I’ll take care of it for you. Hey, if you want food, you just give me a yell.”

  Logan smiled at him and shook his hand. “Thanks Shaun,” he said and the young man went back towards the door, giving a little wave as he went inside. The door slammed loudly behind him. Hana let her breath out slowly.

  “I thought he was going to make us move the car,” she said, fear making her shiver.

  “I think he was!” answered Logan, “Good job I recognised him. Nice kid actually, wr
ites awesome poetry.”

  Hana peeked back at the door of KFC as Logan led her away. Nothing about the young man in the red uniform screamed ‘poet’ or ‘lover of literature.’ She shook her head to clear her brain and stifled a smirk.

  Logan led Hana through the car park. They took a circuitous route in and out of parked cars, avoiding the obvious crossing as long as possible, moving through the automatic doors into the medical building with relief.

  The area housed the doctors, physiotherapists, radiology department, pathology laboratory, dentist, podiatrist and a Chinese herbalist. Hana was familiar with the layout, having used the doctors there for many years. She went to the first door on the right and entered the room. A sign on the counter instructed the client to ‘Please place your doctor’s form in the basket on the top of the pile face down.’ Hana moved towards the basket and watched her paper flutter down into the bottom. Hers was the only form in there so she turned aside and sat down on one of the red, plastic chairs. A few magazines were scattered around and she ignored them, choosing instead to hold hands with her husband as they waited, drawing strength from his capable, calloused fingers stroking hers.

  A dark skinned, proficient looking man wearing scrubs emerged from a room down a long corridor adjacent to the reception area, seeming surprised to see customers on a Saturday. Following his beckoning motion, Hana glanced back at Logan, shaking her head and indicating with a smile she would be fine. As she went through the door, she saw Logan look down at his hands, his face anxious and sad. She had rejected him again.

  The office was a small, white room, with a large giraffe on the wall. The man busied himself at the counter with tubes and needles, indicating with a smile and a flick of his hand she should sit in the only other chair, with a single armrest on the right hand side. Hana sat down, suddenly regretting her decision to leave Logan outside. As the Samoan gentleman affixed the sharp to the flexible tube, he was alarmed to see Hana leave the room. “I’m sorry.”