by Bowes, K T
Hana locked her jaw and gritted her teeth. She hadn’t expected the conversation to carry on exactly as it did the day after she cremated her husband. Running into his mistress was not part of her plan, not then and definitely not now.
“You didn’t believe me then,” the woman continued, “but you’ve had years to work through it. Do you believe me now?”
“Why?” Hana asked. “Why does it matter to you? It was all so long ago.” Her voice sounded tired.
The woman looked insulted. She sized Hana up swiftly, taking in the longer hair, the sense of peace surrounding her and finally, her eyes rested on the bulge under Hana’s apron. Her enhanced lips dropped and unbridled rage visibly coursed through her. “You’re over it!” she hissed. “You’re over him! He worried so much about what you’d think, how you’d cope. I got sick of hearing about poor Hana! All the while it’s been me who’s failed to move on with my life and you...you’re...” She pointed at Hana’s stomach with so much vehemence, Hana put her hands up to defend her child against the spite and anger directed through the manicured, spiked finger. “You bitch!” the woman spat and put both hands up to the side of her own face, as though trying to crush her miserable, adulterous skull.
Hana’s body shook with fear as her heartrate spiked. She moved slowly away, aware when the backs of her knees touched the coffee table she was still in danger. “How could you?” The woman dropped her hands from her face, leaving red patches on her cheeks. Her wedding ring finger looked empty, drawing attention to the neat herringbone glint of the gold on Hana’s. The woman advanced towards Hana with one, well placed stride and Hana had nowhere to go. One more step and Vik’s mistress would lay hands on her, hands which had touched Vik’s dark, well-honed body with stolen caresses. The thought made Hana want to vomit as blood surged round her head, deafening her to anything but the thrum of its movement.
Hana prayed desperately for help amidst the sound of muted birdsong from the open doors. She was alone in that part of the house with a woman who had tortured her dreams for almost a decade. Hana put her fingers over her face and closed her eyes, hoping when she opened them again the woman would be truly gone.
“Hey,” a firm voice intoned. “Go back to your party please madam, you’ve no business here.”
Hana opened her eyes and saw the back of a torn brown sweatshirt up close. A male body blocked her view of the woman and Hana let out a ragged exhale, knowing the woman could no longer see her. Hana trembled and felt unwell, leaning her forehead against her defender to stop the feeling of vertigo from claiming her. The beautiful parquet floor rose up and down to taunt her and she closed her eyes again.
A hand came round and reached for Hana’s and she recognised Michael’s odd, hammer-shaped thumbs as her right hand was firmly gripped. Hana held on with gratitude, thanking God for the authority she heard in her brother-in-law’s voice. She wondered when he had arrived at the hotel.
“You need to leave, or I’ll call security,” he said, his voice steely against the plaintive tones of Vik’s mistress.
“I just want to talk to her,” the woman implored and Hana tried not to throw up on Michael’s back.
“No. Leave this area, or leave the hotel. You choose.” He sounded resolute and Hana wanted to cheer.
She kept her forehead leaned against Michael’s back, her legs still trapped against the coffee table behind her. Hana let out a sob of relief as the woman’s high heels whirled around and clip-clopped back down the corridor to the ballroom. Michael turned, so close he mussed her fringe in the movement and put his arms around Hana’s shaking body. His long arms reached around her back and he dipped slightly to avoid her belly.
“What the hell was that about?” he asked.
Hana gasped, picking up a hint of immaturity in his voice and she looked up, dread snaking its fingers around her embattled heart. Tama’s curly head rested against hers, his chin on her shoulder and Hana reacted badly. “No, get away from me!” she gasped and tried to step back. The coffee table caught her sharply behind the knees and she began to fall, the glass surface coming up to meet her.
Tama’s arms were strong, his muscles bulging through the tatty sweatshirt as he kept hold of Hana’s weight, hauling her to a standing position. He held her tightly into his body, placing one hand in the small of her back to support her. “Geez, Hana. Stop! I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
“Oh God, oh God...” he heard her say and felt the terror emanating from her. His face dropped and he had the decency to look ashamed.
“Hana,” he said soothingly, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” He let her go and stepped back. He held his hands up in front of him. “Do you want me to find one of the boys? I think that woman’s still hanging around in the corridor.”
Hana’s eyes widened and a tear rolled down her face.
“I can get Logan?” Tama offered and a small moan escaped Hana’s pink lips. She shook her head.
“No, please don’t.” She looked behind her as her knees sagged, seeing on the table.
“Whoa!” Tama stepped forward and grabbed her arm. “You look awful! Come and sit down.” He cast around him and tried to lead Hana towards him, one eye on the sofa nearby but she shucked his help and turned, heading quickly towards the open doors.
“Wait!” Tama called. “Where are you going?”
“I need to get away.” Hana’s voice came in short gasps and Tama followed cautiously behind. Outside she floundered, not knowing where she could go in a hotel filled with people. She eyed the mountainous bushland and shivered.
“Don’t even think it,” Tama said. He joined her on the front steps. “You’d get lost and be out there all night.”
Hana snatched at the steady stream of tears on her face and Tama softened. “Come over here. I’ll sit with you in Miriam’s rose garden until you feel better. I won’t come near you.” He looked so earnest, Hana relented.
“If you hurt me,” she said, showing her spiritedness, “Logan will kill you.”
Tama smiled and nodded. “I know.” He led her to the rose garden as it nestled in the fading evening light. It was a calm, serene place, the scent of blooms heady after the day’s heat. Tama sat down heavily on the wooden bench, facing a small stone angel playing a harp. He fixed his eyes on it, as though it interested him.
Hana hesitated a moment and sat down too, keeping away from him at the farthest end of the bench. The heat leached from the day and Hana shivered, the sweat on her skin drying and leaving her cold. Noticing, Tama took off his sweatshirt and carefully laid it across her shoulders. Hana eyed him warily. Underneath, he wore a black singlet and his muscle definition stood out under the moonlight. “Who was she?” he asked with feigned casualness.
“Just a woman,” Hana said defensively, “nobody!”
Tama shook his head, a small smile on his face. “That’s not true, Hana. I heard what she said. Your husband was knocking her off...sorry, having an affair with her?”
“No!” Hana felt desperate, clamping her hands over her ears. She wanted to put the thing back into its box and leave it there where it had been for almost a decade. The only people hurt so far were her and the other woman, but if it wouldn’t go back in its box, more relationships would be damaged; Bodie, Izzie, anyone thought well of Vik. Marcus.
Hana rocked forward on her seat and Tama slid across the bench to her, putting his arm around her and shushing gently in her ear. “It’s ok, mate,” he said gently, “it’s ok.”
“He was a good man!” Hana groaned. “I just don’t understand.”
Tama was tender and kind. Despite the threat of the woman lurking in the corridor of the hotel waiting to have another go at devastating Hana’s life, Tama made Hana feel safe, stroking her back and holding her close.
As the misery eased, she sensed the magnetism Anka had for this man-boy and Hana felt a sharp stab of warning. She pulled back, drying her eyes on the sleeves of his sweatshirt and collecting herself. “I’m sorry,” she s
niffed. “I feel an idiot.”
Tama waved her apology away. “It’s fine, Hana. Don’t worry about it.” He eyed her sideways, his gaze falling on her rounded stomach. His brow knitted and Hana saw regret there as he pursed his lips.
She sniffed and tried to pull herself together. The sad smile Tama gave her made the breath catch in her chest. He waited for Hana to reject him. She passed her fingers over her face and scrubbed her sticky cheeks with the sweatshirt sleeve. Something about the boy made her want to confide in him, to offer something in return. So she did. “That woman took me by surprise. I had no idea Vik’s old company was here, or that she’d still work for it. She must have been out of the room when I was serving...otherwise I wouldn’t have...oh, what a mess!”
Hana sniffed some more and felt around in the sleeves of her blouse for a tissue She found nothing and wiped her nose on the back of her hand.
“Who is she?” Tama asked.
Hana gulped and hesitated. “I...”
“Hey, you don’t own me nothing.” Tama sounded sad.
Hana turned to face him, the urge to spew it all out suddenly overwhelming. “That woman,” she began, “she came round to my home the day after we cremated my husband. She told me they’d been having an affair for almost a year and the day before his death, Vik was meant to tell me. He didn’t and she blamed me.” Hana started to cry again. “She said his death was all my fault. I was so shocked, I asked her to leave and never mentioned it again to anyone. I tried not to believe it. He was a good man. But as the years went by, it became harder not to see the truth. He cheated on me because I wasn’t good enough. Now I have everything to look forward to and here she is again.” Hana sobbed. “It’s not fair - just as I’ve got my life back together again. And she clearly thinks that’s terrible, because she hasn’t been able to. I’ve had nine years of being alone, feeling unworthy and now she’s made me feel guilty for starting again.” Hana terminated her tirade with a cough and a disgusting sniff.
Tama leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees and balanced his chin on his blunted thumbs. Hana stared in fascination. His thumbnails started almost as far down as his knuckle. They were like Michael’s, which wasn’t so surprising seeing as they were father and son. Genetics. “I never saw it from the other perspective,” Tama said carefully. “I just saw it from mine.” He turned to face Hana. “I loved Anka and I still do; I probably always will. There’s something really different about your first, isn’t there? I wanted her all for myself and didn’t care who else got burned, as long as it wasn’t me. I’m looking at you now and seeing how it felt for her husband and family.” He leaned back and put his arm around her. “Will you forgive me?” he asked. “I ruined your friendship with her and almost wrecked you and Logan before you got started. I thought he’d never forgive me and I don’t deserve it. But I am sorry.”
Hana was so surprised she looked up at him, a curious expression of disbelief on her face. Tama looked away, embarrassed and shaken. With cold, clammy fingers, Hana pulled his face back towards her. “I do, Tama. I forgive you.”
He hugged her tightly around the neck and kissed her roughly on the ear through her hair. “Thanks. You won’t regret it.” They pulled apart embarrassed. “You should go in,” Tama said gently, “they’ll be looking for you.”
Hana nodded. “Where’s Logan?”
“Foaling,” Tama said, standing up. “That mare he loves, Sacha. I’ll go help him.” With an awkward wave, he accepted his sweatshirt back, still stained with Hana’s tears and lumbered off into the darkness. Hana thanked her God for the bringing of opportunity out of adversity. She slipped back into the kitchen full of apology. Everyone saw she’d been crying and Leslie sent her upstairs to bed, forbidding her to work for the rest of the weekend.
Hana got undressed and into bed. Logan’s room was secluded and away from the guests in another wing. Alfred and Miriam’s apartment ran overhead and Hana lay and listened to the sound of footsteps above her. “I should have checked on Miriam,” she whispered into the darkness, but then heard the familiar sound of Alfred’s limp above, releasing her from guilt. His arthritis looked worse recently and he carried his body with more care. The third floor rooms were the original servants’ accommodation but hadn’t been decorated in years. Logan said his parents refused during the remodel, so he left them alone.
Hana snuggled down into the crisp sheets and pulled Logan’s pillow towards her chest, smelling coal tar soap and the faint scent of horses. The baby wiggled around, giving Hana a funny sinking sensation deep in her stomach. Hana realised everything felt very low down all of a sudden. When she lay on her side, it felt like she couldn’t shut her legs properly. The child snuggled, getting comfy and Hana put her hand on the top of her stomach, feeling the hard edge of a foot through her nightshirt. The child was upside down. The pressure on Hana’s gut released and for the first time in months, she felt less restricted. “I think you’ve engaged your head.” She spoke to her child and jiffled around, trying to get comfortable. “But I’m only thirty-two weeks pregnant.” She shoved a pillow in between her knees and dropped off to sleep, feeling better than she had for ages.
Logan climbed into bed late. He showered downstairs in the mudroom and dumped his filthy jeans into the industrial washing machine, not wanting to disturb Hana. He padded through the back corridors in a towel and by the time he climbed into bed, was shivering and cold. Hana left the curtains slightly open onto the balcony so he could see in the moonlight as he came into the room. He climbed gently into bed and tried to settle himself. His wet hair touched the bottom sheet and confused, he groped around where his pillow should be. He felt on the floor by reaching his long arm backwards, but there was nothing.
Physically and mentally wrung out, he tried to get comfortable and drifted quickly off to sleep.
Du Rose Legacy
Chapter 30
Hana loved watching her husband sleep. There was a completeness about the peace that enveloped him then which seemed absent in his waking moments. His face grew stubbled and ragged over these weekends, unshaven until Monday morning and he looked every bit the farmer he was. Hana resisted the urge to stroke his cheek, not wanting to wake him although bored without his company. He slept with one hand under his cheek and the other in front of him, clutching a part of Hana’s nightshirt. It was rare for her to wake up and not find him in constant contact with her somewhere. Unless they had argued and then she would cruelly deny him.
If she moved now, she knew his hand would seek her as though automatically programmed to, twitching and moving until he found her. She leaned close to his face and looked at his hand. Logan had long fingers, olive skinned and scarred. She couldn’t see his thumb, it was underneath his cheek. She lifted the covers back and gently pulled at the fabric of her nightshirt, releasing his grip. His thumb came free and Hana peered at it, glad nobody could see her examination.
Logan’s hands were nothing like Tama or Michael’s and his thumb was fully formed and long. His thumbnail was ratty and dirt hid underneath it. There was a long scar on the big knuckle and a gap before his nail started. Hana looked at her own thumb and measured it against Logan’s. Her whole hand was much smaller and more delicate. His were rancher’s hands. His index finger had a peculiar bend in it, as though it had broken and mended wonkily, probably without medical intervention. Hana ran her finger gently down it, feeling a lump on the side of the bone.
She was intent on what she was doing, her mind elsewhere and didn’t realise Logan was awake until she looked up and saw him watching her, a faint smile on his face. She laughed, embarrassed and let his hand go. His sighed and snatched her hand back, pulling it into his chest. “I wouldn’t mind waking up to you caressing something else,” he whispered and Hana shook her head.
“Bad boy.” Hana narrowed her eyes. “Logan, what time will the people from that engineering firm be leaving? Are they booked in until tonight?” She held her breath.
“Na, they’re leav
ing after breakfast. Why?”
Hana relaxed. “No reason,” She lied. “I’m just tired today and didn’t want Leslie and the girls to have to serve a big lunch without me.”
“You don’t have to work when we come home,” Logan sighed and stroked her hair back from her forehead. “I’d rather you rested.”
His fixed his grey eyes on her lazily and Hana felt the stirring in her chest, sending shooting darts of lust into her stomach. “Did you know most of the women in this place would love to swap places with me?” Hana smiled and bit her lip.
Logan screwed his face up. “Well please don’t. Waking up opposite Leslie without her teeth in would probably scar me for life!”
Hana shrieked with laughter and slapped his arm. “That’s so mean!” she chided him. “Why don’t you like her?”
Logan shrugged. “I just don’t, Hana.”
“But she’s been lovely to me.”
“Good, I’m thrilled for you. And I won’t sack her as a reward.”
Hana opened her mouth to demand explanations and Logan pressed his lips over hers. “Leave it, Hana,” he said, pulling her underneath the covers. “It’s ancient history and needs to stay there. Now wake me up properly, like a good little wife.”
“You sexist pig!” Hana squealed and tried to slide backwards out of the bed.
“Did you say, sex?” Logan laughed. “Wow, great minds think alike. Yes please.” He held onto her forearms and pulled her back towards him, pressing his lips over hers and teasing them apart with his tongue. His fingers began to work their magic and Hana as usual, was putty in his hands.
“How’s Sacha?” she asked him later. “Did she have her foal?”
Logan’s eyes lit up and Hana knew it had gone well. “Yeah. Awesome little colt, full of spirit. He’s like her, really pretty with great conformation already. I thought he’d be white but he’s more Appaloosa than Stationbred.”