by K T Bowes
Miriam sniffed. “It’s all my fault. I caused it.”
“No. It’s natural to blame yourself but it’s not true.”
“It is!” Miriam’s eyes flashed a warning, insanity dancing across her expression. Hana rose and took a step back in alarm.
The sound of voices echoed in the corridor. Like the flick of a switch, Miriam composed herself. She rubbed her eyes and pushed grey hair out of her face. By the time Logan and Alfred re-entered the kitchen, she stood at the sink washing the last of the big saucepans.
“You ready for bed?” Logan touched Hana’s hand, raising his eyebrows in surprise at the way she jerked away from him. Her silent, wooden nod unnerved him further. His gaze took in Miriam’s frantic scrubbing and he jerked his head towards Alfred.
Upstairs in Logan’s old bedroom, Hana found it hard to settle. She lay on her stomach with her arms wedged beneath a pillow and her face buried. Logan called to her from the bathroom. “You don’t mind staying in here, do you?” Hana heard him rinse his mouth out after cleaning his teeth. “I just felt I wanted to be here with you. It’s where I used to imagine finding you and starting our life together.”
“It’s fine,” Hana conceded, covering her yawn. “I just want a bed. I don’t care where it is.”
Painted in neutral colours, the room boasted cream walls and an accent navy wallpaper behind the bed. Dark blue blackout curtains decorated the floor to ceiling windows. Logan emerged from the bathroom, the lamplight defining his muscular chest and a white towel wrapped around his waist. “It used to look crap in here,” he said, flicking the light switch with his hand. “Ripped wallpaper and draughty window frames. I think my Uncle Reuben had this room before I was born.”
He laid on the bed next to Hana and his fingers traced a line down her bare back. “I always sleep in here.” Logan sighed and the awful thought rose into Hana’s brain, escaping without filtering.
She sat up, exposing her naked breasts. “Please tell me you never shared this bed with Caroline.” Her top lip creased upwards in disgust and she flipped her legs over the side of the bed.
“No!” Logan leaned across and grabbed her forearm. “She never stayed in this house.”
Hana flapped her arm at the pillows. “I don’t think I can sleep here.” She wrested her arm free, feeling the familiar smart begin in her wrist. Standing, she took the sheets with her to cover herself and edged towards the window.
“Hana!” Logan knelt up on the mattress. “She never set foot in this room.”
Hana stopped her backwards movement, searching Logan’s face for truth. “Promise?” she demanded, her face twisted in misery.
“I promise.” Pain flooded Logan’s eyes and he let his hands drop to the mattress. “All I can ask you to do is trust me.”
Hana’s eyes narrowed. “I know but it’s hard.”
He nodded and settled onto the bed, leaning back against the pillows. His hands ran through his hair, hiding the misgiving in his face. “I won’t hurt you, Hana,” he whispered. “Not deliberately.”
She snorted. “Nobody means to. They don’t wake up in the morning and think, hey, I know, I’ll cheat on my wife this morning.”
“What?” Logan looked alarmed and he placed his feet on the rug next to the bed. When he stood, Hana took a step backwards. He shook his head. “I don’t cheat, Hana. Never have and never will. You’re it, babe. There’s no Plan B.”
Hana shook her head. “Your mother thinks you might. With Caroline.” The name choked in the back of her throat.
Logan closed his eyes and his jaw worked, creating a moving line through his cheek. “Then she’s wrong!” he bit. “And I’m bloody disappointed in her.”
Hana strayed backwards and the sheet slid from the mattress. Logan edged around the bed towards her as though cornering a frightened mare. He let his hands fall to his sides, minimising the threat. His voice sounded soothing and gentle. “I want you, Hana,” he said, lulling her into a state of doubt. “Nobody else. I’ve wanted you my whole life. Come to bed with me.” He bent and gathered the twisted sheet into his hands. Hana squeaked as he tugged it towards him, letting it feed through his fingers like a game of tug-of-war. She thrashed, but he reeled her in, hauling hand over hand until she needed to make the choice between decency and letting go. “Please believe me,” he whispered and his breath against her cheek caused a shiver to run down her spine.
With every moment as Mrs Du Rose, Hana sensed the gnawing loneliness drain away and a long craved sense of companionship raise its head. She dared to wish she might be happy again. She swallowed and her eyes widened with conflict, emeralds flashing against the harsh spot lighting. Logan enticed her with promised security and the lure of his gorgeous body. Hana sighed. Only God knew the moment he’d take everything from her.
Logan’s lips brushed against her cheek and his hands searched her body for familiar curves. He slid his fingers over her hipbone and tugged the sheet away. Hana let it fall and sank into his embrace, recognising a fight she’d never win. She abandoned thoughts of dead husbands, disapproving sons or vitriolic ex-girlfriends, succumbing to the rising pressure in her chest. It urged her to let go of everything belonging to the past.
Logan’s brand of lovemaking proved slow, passionate and insistent, waking Hana’s sleeping sexuality and increasing the craving. “I love you.” His breath moved Hana’s fringe as his mouth sought hers. He didn’t give her time to answer, scooping her up and laying her on the bed. He poured his love into her soul and soothed her when she cried afterwards. Her heart welled with emotions she couldn’t explain, knowing people like her didn’t get second chances like this.
Hana woke in the dawn hours of Sunday, aware something troubled her but unsure what. Seeing Logan’s outline next to her in the grey light reminded her she wasn’t used to someone else in her bed. An icy breeze whistled through a gap in the window frame and she snuggled further into the blankets seeking warmth. Logan’s arm under her head made her neck ache and she wriggled away. He disturbed and his breathing changed, his fingers snaking across the mattress until they contacted Hana’s thigh. She held her breath as he exhaled as though finding reassurance in her presence. The beginnings of a snore blossomed and she smiled. Widowhood taught her how much she would’ve given to hear Vik snore next to her during the long, miserable nights after his death. She lay on her side and watched Logan’s chest rise and fall, doubting her ability to be happy.
“I love you, Logan Du Rose.” Hana reached out tentative fingers and stroked his cheek, feeling his stubble scratch her delicate pads. Her hand edged upwards towards the silken strands of his wavy hair. In the dim light, she overestimated and poked him in the eye. His hand clamped around her wrist like a vice and before she could blink, he spun her onto her back beneath him.
“What’re you doing, wahine?” he growled and Hana cringed beneath him.
“I’m so sorry!” she gushed. “I wanted to stroke your hair.
Logan rolled off her, getting to his feet and striding into the bathroom. “That bloody hurt,” he grunted.
Hana followed and hovered in the doorway, her fingers clinging to the wooden frame. The outline of defined muscle rippled over his back and shoulders as Logan ran cold water and scooped it onto his face. Silky boxer shorts rode low on his hips and Hana watched a long scar snake down the right-hand side of his body. Red and raised, it started inside his shorts below his right hip and ran upwards into his armpit. Hana ventured closer, intrigued by the jaggedness of the skin and the oddness of its healing. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Logan lowered his arm obscuring the ugly scar. He toweled his face and ran his hands through his hair. “No harm done,” he said. Hana’s lips pursed in guilt at the redness of his eye and she dragged a towel from the rail to cover her nakedness. His eyes narrowed and alertness filled his body at the cloth barrier she placed between them. “Why are you awake so early? Did something disturb you
?”
Hana slid around the doorframe and back into the cold bedroom. “It’s unfamiliar. Different noises.”
“What kind of noises?” He followed, matching her step for step.
Hana huffed in impatience. “It doesn’t matter. Just noises.” Logan climbed onto the bed after her, his gaze predatory. “Snoring noises.” She regretted it in an instant and his eyes flashed.
“I don’t snore.”
Hana shrugged and pushed herself between the sheets, the towel scratchy against her nakedness. “How do you know if you’re sleeping?”
“Oh. I just assumed I didn’t.” Logan bit his lip and disappointment flicked across his face.
He settled on his side, adjusting the pillow and staring at the ceiling. The distance between them seemed insurmountable and Hana snuggled down with a sigh. She lay there for a while, jiggling around to get comfortable. Logan’s breathing changed and she listened to rain pattering against the window and watched the dawn light grow stronger. Her mind ran through a list of the unspoken protocols for sleeping with a husband. She assumed it was not okay to wake him up to tell him about the rain. Having poked him in the eye after less than forty-eight hours of marriage, it seemed a little rude.
Hana closed her eyes and listened to Logan’s shallow breathing. She tuned into it and hoped the rhythmic beat might help her sleep. She focused, counting the number of ins and outs, until he stopped. Then he started again. It continued for a while and there seemed no pattern to the periods of nothing. Growing anxious, Hana sat up and stared at Logan’s back. Another period of eerie silence followed. Edging closer, she placed her ear near to his head, desperate for him to breathe. When he didn’t, she panicked and prodded him in the back.
“What?” Logan scooted forward so fast; he tumbled from the bed and landed on the floor. Hana heard the bump and watched in horror as his hands gripped the mattress and he hauled himself upright.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she whined for the second time that night. “But you fell asleep and stopped breathing!”
“I didn’t sleep, woman! I was trying not to snore.” Logan rubbed his painful eye. “I need danger money to go to bed with you!”
“Thanks,” Hana grumbled. “I’ve said I’m sorry.”
Logan clambered into bed and they settled again. He clung to the furthest edge of the bed and Hana wriggled around in the ridiculous towel. She determined to stay awake until she could enjoy a shower without waking the whole hotel, but sleep took her anyway. Her dream plunged her into forgotten memories of Logan and the worst day of her life. The day she lost everything.
The Circle Line tube train slid through the tunnels of the London Underground at terrifying speeds. Hana glanced down at the filthy seat and focused her attention on a ratty hole between her and Vik. He shifted next to her, concentrating on dabbing nasty cuts on his dark eyebrow and lip. Both continued to ooze. Hana felt the knot in her chest and the tears on her cheeks. Her father’s words rang in her brain. Whore. Slut. Disgrace. They melded together as a damning sentence, condemning her to burn in Hell. Her tears blurred the vision of her brother’s angry fists pummeling Vik and she heaved in a breath. Hana reached out a hand and touched his thigh, wanting to connect with him. He shrugged her off and continued his dabbing.
The child in her womb jabbed an elbow into her ribs and Hana inhaled with pain. Despite everything, she loved the baby already and smoothed her fingers across the yellow fabric of her dress. The hard crown of a skull moved beneath her hand, offering reassurance and invoking a primeval sense of maternalism.
“The next station is Earl’s Court. Due to maintenance works please change here for Ealing, Ruislip and Heathrow.” Hana jumped at the voice issuing from the speaker above her head. She glanced sideways at Vik and he shook his head. Not this stop. She blew through pursed lips, wondering how much more misery she could take in one day. The memory of the sadness in her mother’s eyes haunted her. She needed to know what to expect from Vik’s Sikh family but he wouldn’t meet her gaze.
The woman in the seats opposite reached into her pocket and drew out a handkerchief. Hana watched her through lowered lashes, scrubbing at her nose with her hand. Thick foundation covered a patch of swirls on the woman’s chin and they fascinated her. Decorum dictated she look away and she forced herself. “Here, kōtiro.” The woman leaned across and held out the handkerchief. She lifted her other hand and pointed to grey eyes which glittered in her own face. “Take it,” she said and flapped the pale blue cloth.
Hana swallowed and reached out a shaking hand. She nodded in thanks and lifted the soft triangle of fabric to her eyes. The teenage boy shifted in his seat and frowned, removing his gaze from Hana and glancing sideways at the woman. He opened his mouth to speak and she shook her head. Dark curls identical to his slid from a bun at her nape. He closed his lips and his jaw flexed. His gaze settled back on Hana, intense and searching. Grey eyes bored into her soul and she shut him out, numbing herself against any more feelings as she looked away. She studied the underground map above the teenager’s head and fear rose as they drew closer to their destination. To lose one family could be classed as careless but two would be foolish. As the speaker sounded above her head, announcing the end of life as she knew it, Hana opened her mouth and screamed.
“Hana, no, Hana. Geez, what’s wrong?”
She gulped for air and batted his chest with her fists. It made no impact and Logan held her tighter. “The train,” Hana garbled, running a hand over her flat stomach and reeling back in confusion. “It’s gone.”
“What train?” Logan soothed her with kisses to her cheeks. His body curled around her, forming a cage of protection.
“The baby’s gone,” Hana gasped and her fingers fluttered over her stomach.
“Shhhh.” Logan held her and let her surface from sleep, asking no more questions which taxed his ability to understand the muddled answers. “You’re safe,” he whispered. “No trains, no babies. Just me and you.” His fingers traced gentle circles across her bare back and shoulders. “Lie down.” He pulled her with him as he lay back against the pillows, hauling her on top and covering them with the sheets.
Hana felt her heart rate slow and heaved out a breath, resting her cheek against the downy hair of Logan’s chest. “I have nightmares,” she whispered, her voice sounding cracked and strained. “I forgot to tell you.”
“It’s okay.” Logan kissed the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The words sounded good to Hana’s fractured heart and she pressed her lips against his chest. “Take my mind off it,” she demanded, curling her fingers around the back of his neck.
Hana woke late to the sound of rain beating hard on the side of the building and spurting in rivulets down the windows. She opened her eyes with deliberate slowness, distracted by the sight of her unused nightdress draped over the headboard. Logan lay on his side facing away from her and Hana absorbed the warmth from his long back. The scratchy hotel towel felt bunched and uncomfortable beneath her hip.
With precise movements, Hana reached up and tugged at the corner of her silky nightdress, careful not to move the mattress. The material slithered down, landing over her face and making her stifle a sneeze. Slipping from the bed backwards, she slid into her nightie, feeling relief as she covered up the scars of motherhood. Her bladder urged her to seek the ensuite bathroom and she tiptoed around the bed, her eyes widening as Logan snuffled in his sleep. Too late she noticed his cowboy boots sticking out from under the bed. They winked out from beneath his discarded boxer shorts and Hana let out a yelp of pain as she hit the floorboards. “Oh!” she groaned, cradling her wrist in the other hand.
She heard Logan stir and winced, grappling for something to haul herself upright. Thinking she’d grabbed the footboard she pulled, hitting the ground a second time as swathes of duvet cover and sheets landed on her head.
“What are you doing, wahine?” Logan demanded, yanking the duvet off her face.
Hana glanced up at his glorious nakedness and groaned with embarrassment. She buried her face in the crook of her good arm and cradled her wrist against her chest. “Hana?” He seized her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, her cheeks flushed pink. “Why did you marry me?” she whimpered.
Logan snorted and his lips curved upwards in amusement. “Because I love you and you’re entertaining.” He shivered and scooped her into his arms, lifting her without effort. “And now I’m freezing.” His gaze darted sideways towards the bathroom and he smirked. “How about our first hot shower together?”
Hana gave a tiny nod and narrowed her eyes. “As long as you don’t look too hard at my body.”
Logan threw his head back and laughed. “I’ve got a licence which says I can look at whatever I want.” Long strides took them towards the door. He set her on her feet and his brows knitted into a dark line. “Hana, why is your nightdress inside out?”
CHAPTER THREE
They enjoyed a breakfast of bacon and eggs with the family stragglers from the party. Miriam bustled around with purpose and importance.
“Is there any more bacon, Mum?” Michael asked from next to Hana, his mouth bulging with bread. Hana slid her gaze towards Logan as she felt him stiffen next to her, watching his jaw work against his cheek. His veiled tension unnerved her and her fork clattered against her plate. “Don’t you want that?” Before she could answer, Michael’s knife flipped her tomato onto his pile of food. Her appetite went with it.
“You’re disgusting!” Liza pouted across from them, nibbling on an assortment of fruit next to a dollop of yoghurt. “You’re a doctor. Don’t you know how to protect your arteries?”
Michael laughed, dodging sideways as Miriam placed more bacon on his plate. She stared at Hana’s abandoned cutlery with a narrowed brow. “I always eat well when I come home,” Michael continued with a grin at his mother. Hana saw his gaze flick to the side of Logan’s face as though baiting him. He noticed her watching and his brow furrowed. “Has my brother explained our weird family to you?” he asked, jerking his head towards Logan.
