by K T Bowes
Chapter 50
Logan’s possessions took up little room in the Honda and he stood back and quantified his thirty-nine years of life. Always on the move. Always tearing up barely formed roots in the name of progress. Logan sighed and closed the lid on evidence of his failure to settle.
Thoughts of Caroline invaded his brain, her lithe body wrapped around him and her sweet promises of fealty numbing his tired bones. “No,” Logan sighed as he screwed up the note he tried to write for his flatmates. “You’re full of lies, Caroline. You’ll never change.” He remembered the flush of his first time with her as his memory of the redheaded girl on the train dulled to a hazy, adolescent image. He didn’t know then she’d rolled in the hay with the farm boys and some closer to home. She seemed different when he returned from England, his search for Hana suspended by failure. Softer, warmer, more open to settling.
Logan snorted and shook his head. “Idiot!” He exhaled the word, wishing to undo the wasted years he wouldn’t get back. “Too old to father children with Hana now.” The thought cut him and a shake of his head dispersed the self-pity. “You can’t have everything,” he whispered. “You got what you wanted most.”
His grandmother’s oft repeated prophecy dug into his core until it pained him and he winced against denying her what she’d desired from him. “I can’t start a new legacy without children, kuia,” he said, his tone sad. “You got it wrong.” Tama’s image filtered into his mind and he spat in the gravel next to the Honda. “No,” he said aloud to the elderly villa. “He’s done it this time.”
Logan unlocked the storage shed next to the house and inspected his bike for damage. Boris rode it over from Angus’ house the night before and a thick crust of mud betrayed the fun he’d had. Logan shook his head and covered it with a tarpaulin. His truck sat behind it and the Triumph further back in a rear corner. He looked up at the sound of mice in the roof and pulled a cover over the old vehicle. The wind from the open doorway caused it to waft up and he cast around for something to secure it. An abandoned hunk of wood fit his need and he wedged it between the front seat and steering wheel to stop the cover flapping.
Logan left the villa with his heart thudding in his chest. He’d arrived after the aborted wedding in a state of confusion and left only a little better off. He found Hana but with her came a whole raft of problems, ones which perplexed and confounded him, dragging him back into a world he resisted with a frayed act of will. Logan Du Rose gained his soulmate and stood to lose everything else. Trying many times for honesty and transparency with her always ended in defeat. Either he didn’t want to say it or she didn’t want to hear.
He watched the house recede in the rear view mirror and gave a heavy sigh. “This could be one amazing opportunity or a damn big mistake,” he said to his reflection. A smile spread across his lips. “Who cares? I’m happy for the first time in my life.” With that certainty he turned left, joining the back roads to Culver’s Cottage.
Just before the intersection with River Road, Logan’s phone chirped in his pocket. He fished it out and put it to his ear. Bodie’s voice made him start and he almost dropped it in guilt. “You driving?” Bodie demanded, hearing the car noises.
Logan jammed the phone into the dashboard cradle and pressed the button to put it on loudspeaker. “Nope,” he answered, glad the policeman didn’t witness his driving offence. “Speakerphone, go on.”
Hana’s son had some issues to discuss with the man he hardly knew, including an insightful snippet of information he gleaned from an old Hamilton contact. “They’re still looking for the man you both identified. He’s a nasty piece of work. The new detective at Hamilton City wants him real bad. The word is he’s tracked him here from further north.”
Logan nodded and wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, I know Detective Sergeant Odering.”
“How?” Bodie’s question sounded rude and Logan smirked.
“Really? You’re telling me you haven’t already checked my record and found nothing?” Logan hissed through his teeth. “Damn, that’s right; you need grounds for searching personal details because of the Privacy Act. Bummer. Who’d you get to do it for you?”
“I wouldn’t waste my time,” Bodie snapped and Logan heard the irritation in his voice.
“I would if Hana was my mother,” Logan said, pressing the younger man’s buttons and enjoying himself. “But there’s no need. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. I remember Odering from high school. He’s a year older than me and had a body odour problem. Probably still does if you get close enough. What else do you want to know?” Logan gritted his teeth and struggled to control his temper, reminding himself that Bodie’s reticence deserved respect, not ridicule.
“Nothing,” Bodie conceded, but Logan knew it wasn’t finished. “Let me tell you about the guy who attacked Mum.”
The list seemed endless. Every offence involved actual bodily harm, the common denominator being the flick knife Hana identified. “My mate in communications says he’s skilled with it.” Bodie’s sigh held defeat. “You probably saved her life, which is the only reason I’ll give you this one pass.”
Logan grunted in acceptance but gave a two-fingered salute to the phone as he managed the bends on River Road. “Whatever, kid,” he murmured.
Bodie continued relaying information, his tone impassive. “He usually damages other guys. There’s no record of him attacking a woman, so this is different. The file on him points to minor stuff but Odering told his crew that this is big. He’s after something lucrative, but clever. A woman already died and I’m sure I searched for her body in the Waikato River a few months ago. Odering’s convinced Hana’s problems are tied up in this. These two guys are looking for something which went missing and when they find it, they’ll hand it off to someone else waiting in the shadows. The payout sounds big if you believe the rumours. The local cops think Mum knows what the object is.”
“But she doesn’t.” Logan thought of Hana’s confusion, her denial convincing and her frustration genuine.
“I know.”
Logan picked his words with care as he travelled past Turangawaewae Marae. He nodded his head with respect at the stronghold of the Māori king and the flag flying over his house. “Could this be something your father left behind?” he asked, keeping his tone light.
A stony silence met his question. When Bodie answered, his voice sounded clipped. “He left many things behind, including a devastated family. But nothing illegal.”
Logan exhaled and stemmed his rising irritation. His conscience pricked at the memory of his secret wedding to this man’s mother and he relented. The already strained relationship would become openly hostile after Bodie realised he’d been tricked. “Sorry,” he conceded, his tone grudging. “Bad enough to lose your father without some jerk suggesting he left a legacy of trouble behind. Forget it.” The phone bounced in its cradle as the Honda bumped over the railway tracks on the road to Waingaro. “I’m out of ideas. I don’t know how to solve this.”
“Don’t bother,” Bodie replied. “Just keep my mother safe and don’t let her know this is bigger than she realises. The criminals aren’t the only ones watching her, but don’t tell her that.”
Logan raised his eyebrows and peered in the mirror, checking the road behind. Nothing. He suspected Bodie of trying to scare him.
“This new detective Odering came from Auckland,” Bodie said, lowing his voice. Logan guessed he had company nearby. “He’s real quiet and buttoned up. Plain clothes. The bosses gave him an office downstairs on his own instead of with the other detectives. Every call relating to Mum’s case goes straight to him as of last week. I saw him before I left, but he pretended he didn’t need to hear anything I wanted to say.”
“Maybe he didn’t,” Logan suggested. Another thought rose from his gut. “You think he’s using your mother as bait?”
“Yeah,” Bodie replied and Logan’s heart grew icy cold in his chest.
“Geez.” Logan rubbed a hand over his face, his hea
dache dulling to a steady thump. He sighed. “I don’t know what to think right now. Can you still do that thing I asked?”
He waited for Bodie’s reply. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s no big deal.”
“Thanks.” Relief flooded Logan’s tired brain but the ice in his heart remained solid. Culver’s Cottage appeared in the distance, the front bay window winking in the watery sunshine. Logan rounded the bend and it disappeared from view. As he reached out to disconnect the call, he heard Bodie say, “Keep her safe, Du Rose. Or I’ll make you sorry.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he said, pressing the red button and cutting Bodie off. He checked the road behind and turned without indicating. Nothing followed. The gate slid open and Logan revved the Honda up the incline, pausing to watch the gap close behind him.
Negotiating the final tight turn through the bush, Logan jumped as his phone rang again. He reached the house and peered at the digital display. The unknown number taunted him and he snatched the phone from its cradle. “What?”
“Hi, we’ve got a bed for you,” the voice said, sounding tired and cranky.
“That’s not until this afternoon,” Logan replied, running a hand through his hair. He groaned as he remembered the reason why he meant to visit the night before. Hana’s wooden bed still occupied the space where he intended his marital bed to supersede it.
“Do ya want it or not?” the driver snapped. “I can take it back to Auckland. It doesn’t bother me.”
Logan sighed. “When do you arrive?” he asked, his tone sullen.
A rustling of paper filled the airways and then the driver spoke. “Under an hour,” he said and disconnected before Logan could complain.
Thirty minutes later, Logan sat on Hana’s bedroom floor nursing a nasty cut on his index finger. Blood pooled in the wound and dripped onto the tissue he held against it. “Just what I needed,” he sighed. His hasty dismantling of Hana’s old bed had disaster written all over it. He’d wanted her to empty her bedside tables the night before and help him shift the old bed into the next room. But her terrifying experience resulted in them both sleeping in a bed he resented and doing nothing to ease his transition into her home and life.
Stripping the sheets off and dragging the mattress next door proved the easiest part. Unbolting the heavy wooden frame needed two people. The spanner slipped as Logan worked in haste and he slashed his hand on a sliver of wood poking out from beneath the footboard. He dismissed Vik’s jealous stab at him from the grave as superstition.
Logan stood and dragged the individual pieces next door, shoving the single bed aside. He changed the blood soaked plaster twice before conceding he needed his nasal spray. The black and white cat hopped onto the sink and sniffed at his blood and Logan pulled his hand away. “I hope you can keep a secret,” he said, watching the amber eyes give a slow blink. He jumped as the intercom heralded the delivery driver. Logan looked at his watch and swore.
The new bed looked nothing like it did in the shop and Logan’s romantic dream-bubble burst with a devastating pop. “How do I know it’s all here?” he demanded as two men dumped the pieces in the hallway and bedroom.
“Cause I say it is,” the delivery driver snapped and Logan raised his eyebrows, welcoming the challenge.
“You know what?” Logan took a step forward. “I’d like you to inventory every single piece while I watch.”
The driver’s face dropped and his temper wilted. “Dude, it’s all here. I promise.” Frustration leaked into his tone and Logan took another step forward. In a fluid movement, he hid the bloodied finger behind his back.
“We’re meeting chicks,” his companion said, his lips turning downwards. “Hot ones. Please, man. Let us go or we won’t make it back to Auckland.”
Logan heaved out a sigh. “It’s all here?”
Both men nodded their heads like maniacs. “For sure,” the younger one promised.
Logan looked at the acne on his chin and the dusting of hair he coveted over his top lip. They were just kids. “Fine,” he said, watching their eyes light up. “But you carry every single piece into the bedroom and don’t damage the wallpaper.”
“Choice!” the older one exclaimed, his blonde hair flopping into his eyes. “Thanks mate!”
Logan narrowed his eyes. “I’m not your mate. The name’s Du Rose and don’t forget it. Because if I find even one screw missing, I’ll make a new one out of your face.”
“Du Rose?” The older man faltered. He glanced at his companion and nodded. “Okay.”
Logan leaned against the wall as the men carried the various parts of the bed into Hana’s room. His imposing presence unnerved them and they banged the canopy against the doorframe in their hurry. “Careful,” he said, his tone flat.
“Sorry, bro’,” the driver said, his eyes flicking over the determination in Logan’s eyes. They finished and presented the delivery slip to Logan for signing, blanching as he scribbled his name and added the word, ‘unexamined’ to the end.
“Ah, no!” The younger man’s shoulders slumped. “Youse can’t say that. We’re supposed to build it for you. They’ll know we didn’t.”
The driver glared at him and Logan’s eyes flashed. “And I know you didn’t. Get out.”
“Can’t you change that bit on the end?” the other man begged, flapping the paper at him.
Logan flexed his jaw and lifted his right hand up to his own face, balling the fingers into a fist. He studied the various cuts, scenting the men’s nervousness like an animal. The driver backed down first. “Let’s go.” He tugged his companion’s sleeve. “I just remembered why I know his name.” He lowered his voice and pushed the other man onto the porch. “His whānau will eat youse for breakfast.”
Logan heaved a tired sigh as the lorry fired up and headed down the hill. He waited by the intercom and buzzed them through the gate at the bottom. “Geez,” he groaned, pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose. A smirk turned his lips up at their reaction to his name. They couldn’t know it, but his pretence carried it off and his confidence sealed the deal.
Logan spent the rest of the day reassembling the guest room before turning his attention to the master bedroom. By the time Hana texted asking for a ride home from Alder Dale, the four-poster bed stood as the centrepiece of her sanctuary. Logan stuffed the duvet into the new covers, hung the voile, replaced the electric blanket on the mattress and plugged in the spotlights. He unpacked his clothes and placed them in one of the new bedside tables, hanging anything of importance inside the freestanding wardrobe. Her scent hit him each time he opened the door, rustling past her dresses to hang his shirts. He leaned his forehead against the wood and savoured the moment, solidifying his sense of gratitude.
After putting the finishing touches to the guest room, Logan hurried to Flagstaff to fetch Hana. He swung through the security gates and careened along the narrow lane between properties. Making up for the fright he gave an elderly woman pushing a walking frame, he smiled and waved. Responding to the only human contact she’d had all day, the woman waved back instead of utilising the rude hand signal her great-grandson taught her at the weekend. She regained her balance and tottered home, forgetting why she began the laborious journey to the shopping centre at the top of the hill. The mirror in her kitchen revealed the scarf and hairnet adorning her head and her shoulders slumped as she groaned. “Oh, darn!” she exclaimed. “Hairdressers appointment.” Sighing she turned to begin the walk again, like a snail replaced at the bottom of a wall.
Hana sat in Angus’ lounge with a glass of wine in her hand and Logan gave her a gorgeous smile. “Hey,” he said as Angus let him in. It cost him not to stride across and kiss Hana’s soft lips. “Sorry I’m late. I finished some stuff up at the house.”
“That’s okay.” Hana stood. She lifted her glass and drained the last of the merlot. “Thanks Angus. It’s kind of you to go to this much trouble.”
“It’s no problem,” Angus replied, squeezing Hana’s arm. He took the gl
ass from her hand and put it on the kitchen counter. “Isn’t it your birthday soon?”
Hana’s face clouded. “Yes.”
Angus looked nervous and bit his lower lip. “Sorry. It’s tactless to ask a lady how old she is.”
“It’s not that.” Hana pouted. “I thought nobody knew, but then I discovered Pete eats the chocolate bars we get. I’ve seen other people receiving them and assumed nobody cared about the student centre. I guess you just proved me wrong.”
“Oh yes.” Angus swallowed with discomfort, wanting the conversation over. He didn’t get eye contact with Logan, but felt the bad vibes reaching across the room for him. “I’ll arrange for you to have the bumps on Monday.”
Hana laughed. “It’s not this weekend,” she said. “But it’s soon.”
Logan hurried her from the house and stuffed her into the Honda. In his haste, he set off before she fastened her seatbelt. “Steady!” Hana squeaked, sliding around on the leather seat.
“Sorry.” Logan ran a hand through his hair and settled his nerves, winning the internal battle with considerable effort. He slowed the vehicle and waved to the little old lady who seemed no further up the road than when he saw her before.
Hana glanced up. “Oh, do you know her?”
“No.” Logan shook his head.
Hana swivelled round in her seat, watching as the woman battled with her walking frame. “Do you think she’s okay?” Logan slowed as they passed, seeing the woman wobble against her frame as she held on with one hand and lifted the other. She jabbed a finger at Logan and then raised her middle finger in an obscene gesture.
“Oh, my!” Hana exclaimed. “How rude!” She averted her eyes and faced the windscreen, shock turning her lips into a straight line.
Logan laughed and the surrounding tension dispersed. He kept his left hand on his thigh, hiding the bloodied plaster from Hana’s sight. She frowned at him. “It’s not funny. I wonder if Angus knows he lives in a den of iniquity.”
Logan snorted and turned onto River Road, taking Hana away from Hamilton. And away from danger. He took extra care observing the other vehicles on the road, noticing nothing odd.
At Culver’s Cottage, Hana loved the bed. “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed. “It matches the wallpaper. And I can’t believe you sorted out the spare room as well. You didn’t need to worry. I’m not expecting visitors.”
She sighed with happiness and wrapped her arms around Logan’s waist. “Thank you so much. I wasn’t looking forward to spending the night sorting it out.” She caught sight of the plaster on his finger and snatched his hand towards her. “What did you do?”
Logan pulled it away. “I snagged it on a piece of wood sticking out from under your old bed.” He put it behind his back. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry.”
Hana opened her mouth to object, sensing he didn’t want mothering. She killed the sympathy on her lips and suggested dinner instead. “Pumpkin soup?” she offered. “I know there’s a tin at the back of the cupboard.”
“Yeah.” Logan slipped his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll get some bread from the freezer downstairs.”
Afterwards, Hana moved her clothing from the old bedside drawers. They smelled of soap and washing powder and she placed her underwear in the woody scented cabinet. Logan laid on the bed and watched her move around the room, his grey-eyed gaze following her. “Gosh, look at the crap in here,” she said in surprise. She chewed her lip.
“What?” Logan turned on his side and faced Hana as she tipped the drawer on the bed next to him.
“I got rid of Vik’s underwear but over time I filled his drawer with rubbish.” Her fingers scrabbled through the odds and ends. “Batteries, torch, lavender bags.” She smiled. “I made these with Izzie for an enterprise project at school. Her group won.” Hana turned the bag over in her palm and lifted it up to her nose. “It still smells.” A tattered driving licence drew her attention and she picked it up in gentle fingers. “Oh. It’s Vik’s.” She turned it over and the handsome man with the dark skin stared from the photograph in her hand.
“Didn’t you get rid of all that when you moved?” Logan asked, tracing a daisy on the bed cover.
Hana shrugged. “Bodie loaded the drawers without emptying them. He thought it might be quicker.”
Logan swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood without speaking. His brow furrowed and he left the room. Hana watched him walk away, confusion shrouding her face. She upended the drawer into a black dustbin bag and scooped the rest of the items from the bed after it. The driving licence went into her back pocket.
Logan built up the lounge fire ready to light. He stood in a half glow, back lit by the bare hallway bulb. Hana watched him from the doorway, her heart fluttering in her breast. “We’ll be married tomorrow,” she said, her voice soft. He nodded. She ventured further into the lounge and rested her palm against his arm. “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing.” His eyes flashed and then he repeated it, desperate to convince himself. “Nothing, honestly Hana. I want to marry you.”
“You don’t sound sure anymore.” Fear paled Hana’s complexion further and the hand against Logan’s arm shook.
“I’m sure.” Logan pulled her into his side and kissed her temple. “I need to get used to you talking about your husband.” He breathed into her hair and Hana froze.
“I didn’t think. I’m sorry.” She pursed her lips. “Do you think we can do this?”
“Yup.” Logan forced himself into a better humour. “He’s part of your life but I didn’t realise his stuff was still around. I need to learn to cope with it.”
Hana nodded against his chest and sighed. “I’ll try to make it easier for you,” she said. “I’ll adjust.”
“Me too,” Logan whispered. He pressed his lips against hers and closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss. His arms felt strong around her waist.
Hana broke away to catch her breath. “Last night apart,” she murmured into his shirt. “I’ll fight you for the new bed?”
She heard the smile in his words. “Na, you take it. It’s my gift to you, anyway.”
Hana allowed herself to feel lucky as she kissed with Logan in front of the wide bay window, the lights of Ngaruawahia reflecting off the river. She paddled the risky waters of life, no longer drifting along it like flotsam. She admitted to herself how good it felt.