by Bowes, K T
Lying in the darkness, Logan missed his wife more than he imagined possible. It was like that in the holidays when he stayed to supervise the laying of the new driveway. He ended up rocking up to Amy’s to see Hana, even though they hadn’t been getting on well at the time. He needed her. It was like a physical ache. Logan reached across to Hana’s side of the bed, comforting himself with touching something of hers. He pulled his hand back when Tiger gave him a nasty scratch. He sighed and rolled over in the bed, hoping sleep would come quickly.
Logan was tired the next morning, but Hana knew he had to go to work. She texted him around eight to let him know she would be ready to go home when he finished at four o’clock, but he texted back he had a free period and would get to the hospital earlier. Sheila was calm and philosophical about Hana not being at work and showed genuine concern at her injury. The story was that she fell down the stairs.
Pete wasn’t in work yet and after the knock on the head, Logan doubted he would appear much before the end of the week. Logan passed on Hana’s message in person to Sheila, promising she would be back before the Expo and caught a hurriedly smothered glimpse of real panic in Sheila’s face. “Oh, thank goodness,” she sighed. Logan had to concede his wife was right. Sheila’s calm was wafer thin and Hana would have to return quickly to her post.
Logan arrived at the Bramwell at just after two in the Honda. He ran the stairs instead of using the elevator, checking in at the nurses’ station and making his way down the plush corridor to Hana’s room. In there, he discovered both Angus and Pastor Allen occupying the visitors’ chairs, with Hana sitting on the bed holding court. She looked wired. “Told you I was going home,” she said victoriously. The men rose simultaneously as though to leave, but Logan kissed Hana from the other side of the bed and waved his hand at them.
“Na, stay. I need to organise the discharge paperwork. At least if you keep her busy, she won’t do a runner while I’m gone.” Logan stroked Hana’s hair with tender fingers and winked at her.
Yesterday’s nurse was at the desk and fawned all over Logan embarrassingly. It would have been all right if he were one of those guys who liked to be flattered and would willingly snatch the opportunity, but he felt uncomfortable and awkward. “Look, love,” he leaned forward over the counter and saw a flicker of hope in her eyes. “I’m not one of those types, never have been and never will. I’m not interested, so save it.”
The nurse looked momentarily devastated, rallying into haughtiness with practiced ease. “Your son asked me to call him,” she lied. “About his mother, but he forgot to leave his number.”
“No he didn’t,” Logan retorted, hoping Bodie hadn’t. It was strange the assumption that he was Logan’s son and the Māori felt a prickle of fear that he would never father a son and fulfill his grandmother’s prophecy for his life. It made him irritated at the young nurse, dark, broodiness radiating from him in dangerous waves as he thought of the danger Hana and his child were in.
The horror of, what if, hounded him along the corridor, entering Hana’s room with dismay in his expression. He concentrated on stuffing Hana’s paperwork hurriedly into his jacket pocket.
“Right, I’m off.” Pastor Allen got up to leave and placed his hand on Hana’s head. He prayed a quick blessing over her recovery homecoming before saying his ‘goodbyes’ all round and leaving with a pat of Logan’s shoulder. Angus looked slightly uncomfortable until the pastor had gone, clearly agitated about something. Hana turned to Logan as soon as he finished rustling and shoving the papers in his pocket. “That party for Boris isn’t happening!” she said, sounding confused.
Logan looked annoyed, instantly assuming there was some horrid cheap-skate reason, but then Hana explained, “He isn’t going now. He’s staying on for a while. Isn’t that cool?”
Logan’s face broke into a smile. “That’s awesome!”
Angus nodded happily, getting up to leave. He patted Hana gently on her head like a pet dog and shook Logan’s hand. Logan was non-plussed, his face clouding in confusion as he knitted his brows and stared at the proffered hand. They had coffee just that morning, grumbling at the awful instant muck in their cups. Hand shaking seemed a little over the top for a hospital visit. When Angus didn’t let go, Logan looked at him hard, seeing then how the principal indicated with his eyes and a quick tilt of his head that he wanted Logan to follow him outside.
Hana got off the bed and ratched around in her bag, desperate to be off. Logan made the excuse of showing Angus out. “I’ll just be a minute, babe,” he smiled back at Hana.
The men strolled up the main corridor to the exit stairs. Angus walked as he always did, steadily, taking in everything, hands clasped gently behind his back. Outside the first set of glass doors, he turned towards Logan. In his Scottish lilt, he delivered a strange piece of news. “Caroline appears to be back in town and working at the girls’ school.”
Logan let out a sigh before he could prevent it and knew his body language sagged visibly. “Thanks…for telling me. I guess,” he shrugged, but Angus wasn’t done yet.
“She’s pregnant and visibly. The word on the grapevine is the child is yours.” He looked at Logan, his face set in an expression of determination as the younger man postured indignantly and took a step back.
“No way! She said that before, but it’s not possible!”
To his immense surprise, Angus took a threatening step toward him so their noses almost touched. Angus was nearly retirement age and slightly shorter than Logan, but his eyes were piercing as they seared hard into his. “I sincerely hope you’re speaking the truth, Mr Du Rose. Should I find differently, I’ll make life incredibly difficult for you at my school. Do I make myself clear?” Angus spoke through gritted teeth.
Logan held his gaze confidently, keeping his irritation under wraps as he nodded once, but he lost control of the sneer in those final seconds and Angus bit. “Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me, Du Rose!” The old man edged closer and Logan’s eyes flashed with danger. “I know who you are. I’ve always known, son. Your connections don’t frighten me and never have. But if you hurt that woman in there, I’ll make it impossible for you to teach in this country ever again! Mud sticks, Mr Du Rose.” Angus took a step back and smiled deceptively sweetly. “And I’ll stick it so hard to you, no self-respecting principal will ever give you a job again. I’ll only have to hint at a principal’s meeting about who you associate with and it’ll be game over.”
Logan shrugged as though he didn’t care and Angus shook his head. “Oh, you might not need the money, boy. But it’s who you are; Logan Du Rose the effective teacher, good at everything you touch. You take away what matters to Hana and I’ll return the favour. That’s not a threat, boy. It’s a promise!” He whipped round on his shiny shoes and clicked away down the stairs without looking back, not even to witness the devastation he left behind.
Logan leaned back against the wall, letting the cool plaster sink into his scalp through his hair. “I know who and what you are!” Caroline’s words bit into him across the months. He felt physically sick. He ran a shaking hand across his mouth, before letting it drop heavily to his side. He walked slowly and carefully back to Room 102, to fetch his wife.
Hana Du Rose
Chapter 34
They didn’t speak all the way home. Caroline seemed able to do this to them; plunge them into an awkward and painful silence. She could do it by proxy. She didn’t even need to be present, so powerful was her influence over their happiness.
A couple of times Hana reached up to wipe a stray tear from her cheeks, hoping Logan hadn’t noticed. He ignored it, not knowing what to say. What he wanted to do was hit something, swear repeatedly and go for a very long run until he felt calmer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.” Logan’s voice sounded thick with guilt. “She’s only come back to cause trouble. It’s obvious Angus believes her lies.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hana shut the conversa
tion down immediately, unable to face the inevitable plunge into depression any mention of Caroline caused.
“I shouldn’t have told you,” Logan shook his head angrily at himself. “But I thought we were being honest and if everyone’s talking about me…”
“It’s fine.” Hana raised her hand, desperate for her husband to stop being honest for a moment and allow her to catch her breath. “I’m just tired, sorry. I’ll deal with everything tomorrow. We’ll talk then.”
Logan cleaned the house in his usual compulsive, picky way and it was spotless. Hana wandered down to the bedroom, her heart leaden in her chest. A headache tugged at the back of her skull despite the heavy painkillers which coursed through her bloodstream. They took the edge off her physical hurts but could do nothing for her emotional ones. Logan clattered around in the kitchen making Hana a drink and some food, which she would force down to please him.
“Please can you help me?” she asked, appearing in the kitchen behind him clutching her monkey pyjamas.
The annoying cast snatched and grabbed at the cloth sleeves, making the break and wound ache needlessly. A couple of times Hana gasped out loud, until Logan lost his patience finally and picked up the scissors. The cast would go neither back nor forward and giant tears rolled down Hana’s cheeks as he snipped off the right arm of her favourite nightwear. With the jama top hanging lopsidedly, Monkey wore an unintended smirk but it was all too much for Hana. She sniffed and sobbed quietly as Logan performed the operation. When the deed was done, Hana fled to the bedroom and Logan followed. He sat down next to her and held her as tightly as he dared. “What’s upset you most?” Logan asked softly, wondering if he was ill advised to go into it while Hana was so tired and overwrought. “I’ll get you all the jamas you want. But it’s not just about that, is it?”
She blew hard into the tissue. “I guess, it’s that Caroline seems to have the power to wreck things for us. Time and time again she does this to me. It feels so personal.”
Logan lay flat back on the bed and sighed. “It’s not you. It’s me. She won’t let me be happy.”
“Do you think she’s…you know, psychotic?” Hana asked.
Logan shrugged. “Could be. Life was always so toxic with her. She would ditch me, then drag me back in again. It was easier to run with it until she got bored. She would decide I was trash and dump me, usually publicly in some spectacularly humiliating way. A couple of times I met someone else, never serious, dates and stuff and back she’d come. She didn’t want me but nobody else could get cosy either. It’s what she’s tried to do with us. I suppose it always worked for her before.”
“You’re so not the pushover type,” Hana sniffed, wiping her nose on the back of her good hand. “I can’t imagine anyone messing with your head. Why did you let her?”
Logan shrugged. “I dunno. It’s complicated. I was on hold, for you. It was always you, but I settled. I think maybe she knew that. It was cruel so it served me right.” He reached out and took Hana’s hand, “Hana, about her baby…”
“Logan, I’m really tired,” Hana began, but saw the hurt look on his face as she denied her husband the opportunity to put his case forward. She struggled, not having the energy to sit through it right then. “Look,” she said, “I think the father of her baby is Boris.”
Logan sat up so quickly he accidentally banged into Hana. She cried out and he was torn between expressing his shock at her revelation and trying to soothe her better. He apologised over and over again, eventually leaving her to bring through her food and remake the cup of tea he started. Hana writhed through a couple of mouthfuls of sandwich before admitting defeat and drinking her tea. “You did good, babe,” Logan lied and switched on the small TV in the corner of the room. Hana settled down in the bed. The duvet and sheets were different and she smiled at the care with which her husband prepared the house for her return. It would have been great, had Caroline not made yet another destructive virtual appearance.
Hana pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. It seemed so unfair that when Logan was ready to speak to her and share deep-seated feelings, she was unable to deal with it and when she was ready to spill her guts, he couldn’t cope either. They seemed to misfire and miss opportunity continually. Hana was sincerely tired of it. But for now, she didn’t have the energy and at least had the wisdom to know if they started debating Caroline right then, things would get said which couldn’t be unsaid and she needed to be sure of her facts. Logan she knew would seek out Boris first thing tomorrow. What bothered her was what he would say. Would he be jealous Boris dallied with Caroline, or would he just want to warn his good friend to steer clear of her manipulation?
“I’m pleased Boris isn’t leaving imminently,” Hana muttered. “He was kind to me when…well, when we weren’t getting on.”
Logan’s smile was tight on his lips. “Yeah well it’s also a lucky escape for us. Pete realised he’d be alone in the Gordonton house and hinted broadly he might decide to move in here.”
“What? No way! He moves in and I move out,” Hana grumbled. “That will be a very awkward conversation. And I won’t be the one having it with him!”
Hana drifted in and out of sleep for the evening and most of the night, waking at five o’clock, in pain and knowing slumber had left for good. She lay on her back, the dull, thudding ache in her elbow pointing out her arm had slipped off the pillow Logan laid it on. Her baby was also awake, trampolining on her full bladder without regard for what may result.
She lay for a long moment gathering the strength to move, anticipating agony. She cradled her arm as gently as possible, trying to use her stomach muscles to sit up but couldn’t quite make it. The jolt as she lay roughly back down caused her to grit her teeth and give a little gasp. She tried again, managing to swing her legs out over the edge of the bed but ended up slewed across, her feet not quite touching the floor, her back flat on the bed. Her exposed feet instantly felt the freezing air outside the warm sheets and she shivered.
Hana hooched her bottom forwards until her feet felt the rug and then she tried to sit up again. Half way up she felt strong hands pushing her shoulder blades and she made it easily then. Her arm throbbed and she kept her left hand underneath the cast to support it. It didn’t help the pain but made her feel better somehow, like it wasn’t going to drop off. “Thanks Loge,” she said with gratitude. “I thought I was going to be stuck there all day and I’m desperate to pee.”
Logan’s face appeared over her left shoulder and she felt his beard on her cheek. His arms and chest were bare but he was warm and smelled of soap from his nightly shower. She wanted to touch his face but daren’t stop supporting her arm, so rubbed her cheek against his stubble and planted a delicate kiss near his eye. He kissed her ear, missing her cheek in the darkness. She felt his need to talk her out of going to work, but he didn’t say it. He got out of bed and padded around to her side, helping her up and walking her to the bathroom door. Hana politely declined his help any further. She was determined to manage, having lost enough dignity in the hospital bedpan.
It was something of a struggle to negotiate her ruined monkey pyjamas and use the toilet. Desperate for a decent wash, Hana ran a shallow bath filled with sweet smelling bubbles and used a mug to pour water over her hair. It was almost impossible doing everything with her left hand and she hadn’t realised quite how frustrating it would be. She managed to comb conditioner through her wet hair to keep it under control for the day, although blobs of it flew off and hit various parts of the bathroom.
Hana used her make up sparingly, managing to poke herself sharply in the eye with her mascara and get eye shadow on the side of her nose, giving herself a theatrical black eye. She mopped up best she could, but no matter what she did, she still looked dreadful. “Oh damn! I can’t do this!” she exclaimed and stamped, jolting her arm and causing her to bend double and hold her breath.
Hana went back to the bedroom with her towel pulled awkwardly around her. She faf
fed around finding clothes she could manage the day in, discarding trousers with zips and buttons and growing desperate. When Logan returned with a cup of tea for her, he found Hana kneeling beside the chest of drawers, scrabbling about in the bottom one whilst trying to keep the towel up. She was almost in tears. “This is stupid,” she sniffed. “Everything needs two hands.”
Logan set the drink down and tried to help. “What about this? It’s pretty.” He found a dress in the wardrobe which Hana hadn’t worn for years. All in one piece, the burgundy material boasted swirls of misty roses. It was light fabric, layered to be floaty in design. “Look,” Logan soothed, “it’ll be easy to get into and use the bathroom in.”
Hana felt humiliated having Logan help her into her underwear, although he enjoyed himself immensely, trying numerous times to turn it into something else. For the first time in ages, Hana felt her breath coming in short, jagged gasps as Logan kissed her shoulders and neck, grazing her delicate skin with his stubble. It felt delicious and when she turned, his lips on hers felt familiarly exciting. Logan was gentle and attentive, sparing Hana’s injured arm in his determination to put their marriage back on its old footing. Hana was left breathless, banishing the formidable spectre of Caroline to the back of her brain for a blessed, stolen half an hour.
Full, bottom-hugging tights were clearly not an option but Hana felt the chill in the air as she resumed her laborious dressing. Logan found a pair of his socks and put them on Hana, stretching them up to just under her knees and stuffing her feet into her boots. Underneath the sleeveless dress, they managed to get a black thermal top over the cast and then Logan reattached the sling expertly. He aided her to put one arm into a dark blue denim jacket and draped the other arm over the sling.
“I feel like a pirate,” Hana stated grumpily, looking down at the flapping arm.
Logan snorted with amusement. “That doesn’t make sense, you’re fine. Angus is hardly gonna discipline you for looking scruffy is he? You shouldn’t even be in work!”