by K T Bowes
“So why not tell me where he went?” Hana grizzled, wiping snot from her face with the back of her sleeve.
“We have to trust our men folk,” Maihi advised, breathing wisdom into the situation. “Sometimes they keep secrets from us.” She sighed and watched Hana fight through her thoughts. “You don’t share everything with him, do you?”
Hana’s complexion paled and she pursed her lips. “That’s not fair.”
“You told me.” Maihi blinked as Hana stood and poured her tea down the sink. “Now you can tell him.”
“No!” Hana threw the guard over her heart and saw the regret cross Maihi’s face. “I’m not ready. I need to trust you to say nothing.”
“Okay.” Maihi’s slow nod made Hana doubt and she panicked.
“Please.”
“I keep my promises.” Maihi looked at her through the tops of her eyes and Hana felt the sting of her chastisement. She sought to take the subject onto less dangerous ground.
“Logan brought guns here,” she complained. “He knows how I feel about them.”
Maihi threw her head back and laughed. “We have guns at our place. So do most of the townspeople of Ngaruawahia!”
Hana sighed. “It feels underhand. How did they get here? I found them today and I know they weren’t there before.”
“Dunno, sweetie. Only he knows those answers. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.” Maihi snickered and touched her nose with her index finger. “Learn to trust him, Hana.”
“Do you mind Hemi shooting?” Hana asked, leaning her bum against the pantry door. Maihi snorted.
“Girly, I’m a better shot than him! My Hemi can’t hit a barn door at five paces. Man’s blind as a bat!”
Hana ran shaking hands through the sides of her hair. “I asked him not to go out this afternoon and he did, anyway.” She swallowed and felt the misery rise into her chest again.
“Learn to trust him,” Maihi advised. “He’s trying to take care of you the best way he knows how.” She pushed her mug aside. “He told me about your fainting yesterday too. That’s not right.”
Hana waved off her concern. “It’s the least of my problems right now.”
“No, it’s your priority.” Maihi rose and dumped her mug in the sink. “Take care of that first.” She kissed Hana’s forehead and wrapped her arms around her. “I’m a phone call away if you need me. Or a twenty minute walk.”
“I know. Thank you.” Hana let Maihi’s peppery scent wash over her. Kawakawa and rosemary filled her nostrils and gave her peace. “Thanks for checking up on me after last night. I’m not great with alcohol.”
Maihi pinched her cheek. “Maybe cut it out for a while then,” she suggested and Hana rolled her eyes.
“Yes mother.”
The house fell silent after Maihi left and only the tick of the lounge clock comforted Hana. She sat in the sunshine on the roof garden with her legs curled beneath her and rang Bodie. “Why didn’t you call me when you saw them?” he demanded and Hana sighed.
“The cops don’t care and I’m not including you in that assessment.” She watched a ladybird crawl across her stained jeans. “They think I’m paranoid because I sound it.”
“We take it in turns to drive your car but nobody’s followed it for days.” Bodie’s frustration leached through the phone and Hana felt a rush of gratitude.
“Maybe we could swap back?” she suggested. “They must believe I got rid of it. What do you think?”
“A few more days and then, maybe.”
“Bo, thanks for everything.” Hana paused, struggling with her words. “I appreciate that you believe me. I know you care.”
“Course I do.”
Hana sensed her son’s embarrassment and let him go. She sat on the roof garden and watched the sun dip behind the mountain. The temperature dropped and the surrounding air grew still and frigid.
She padded through to the kitchen, surprised to find Logan cleaning the oven. The bench tops shone with streaks of spray cleaner and the table felt damp to the touch. His compulsive behaviour indicated a rise in his stress levels, so she opted to take a shower instead of rehashing their argument.
Logan sought Hana out in the bedroom as she moved around in her damp towel. He lay on the bed and studied her movements with his cool, grey eyes. She likened him to a deep lagoon. No matter how far she dived into the black water, she couldn’t find the bedrock. She may have miles to chart or be about to break her neck on the bottom. “Are you still mad at me?” he asked into the silence and Hana shrugged.
She opened her arms to convey her confusion. “Logan, what do you want from me?”
He sighed and rolled onto his back. “I want you to trust me,” he whispered.
“I don’t know how.” Hana sat on the bed and watched his shirt part to reveal a swathe of glorious olive stomach. A dusting of dark hair invited her to poke her fingers through the gap and she resisted. He turned on his side and reached for her, tugging her down onto the mattress.
“Let me show you,” he breathed, kissing her. His tongue sought hers in a familiar dance and he prised the edges of the towel apart. Gentle fingers touched her skin and Hana melted. Savouring his intoxicating scents she drowned in the depths of him, finally understanding there could be no soft landing for her in this after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Do you think it’s compulsory to have sex in every room before you can stop calling yourself newlyweds?” Hana asked with a smirk.
“I don’t know. I haven’t been a newlywed before.” Logan took a bite of his sandwich and eyed Hana sideways as she struggled to keep the blanket trapped between armpit and breasts. He balanced his plate on the coffee table. “Anyway, what’s in a label?” His lips quirked upwards to reveal the dimple in his right cheek.
“Good answer.” Hana watched the colours of the sunset dapple the sky with orange and pinks against the backdrop of cumulus clouds. The lounge window framed it like an artist’s masterpiece. She sighed. “I hope our enthusiasm never wears off.”
Logan’s brow furrowed as the spectre of Hana’s former husband invaded his thoughts and sullied any renewed sense of arousal. His sandwich turned to ash in his stomach and he leaned back against the sofa and stretched out his legs. “Shall I tell you where I went this afternoon?” Logan asked, smiling as mayonnaise dripped between Hana’s breasts and produced a flurry of activity tantamount to a strip show.
Hana shook her head. “No. I don’t need to know. As long as whatever you did won’t hurt me.”
Logan shook his head and his eyes turned a serious shade of slate grey. “I promise. I tried to help, not harm.”
“Okay then.” Hana shrugged and abandoned her food. When Logan lay down on the rug, she did too, snuggling into his armpit and pulling the blanket over both of them. “Will you teach me to shoot?” she asked, feeling her husband tense beneath her. “I’d like to beat Maihi. She’s a crack shot.”
He took a while to answer. “Okay. I’ll get you something small to start with. Maybe a pistol. I thought you hated guns.”
“I do.” Her voice sounded grave. “I’ve seen what they do. But learning how to control a gun and understand how it works might give me a different perspective. I don’t think I could ever use one on another person, but it might be good to demystify guns for me.”
“Fair enough.”
Hana ran a hand through Logan’s hair, feeling its length slide over her fingers. “You’re a mop head,” she giggled. Her brow furrowed as she felt her own locks cascading over his shoulder. “And so am I.” She inspected a tatty end and sighed. “I need to see my hairdresser. Do you think I could sneak into Hamilton and get my ends snipped?”
“No!” Irritation bled into Logan’s tone, fading the easy intimacy between them. “It’s not just that you might run into them in town. They’re here in Ngaruawahia!”
“Okay, okay.” Hana lost the battle and conceded. She ran a finger over the bruised yellow
flesh below Logan’s scar and he didn’t flinch. He’d dispensed with the waterproof dressings and left it at the mercy of his flawed healing process. She dipped her head and kissed his ribs and Logan jerked and snorted. “You’re gorgeous,” she sighed.
“What, like an old saddle?” he replied without humour.
“No. Scars are sexy, which means you’re sexier than most. Women naturally seek the hunter-gatherer gene and scars are an indication of valour. You’re ahead of the game Du Rose.”
“Are you done making me feel better?” Logan asked, his voice sleepy and Hana nodded. His lips formed a lazy smile. “Now I know where Jas gets his verbal diarrhoea from.”
Hana snuggled into Logan’s armpit and pondered the family likeness, her mind wandering to Tama and his infallible Du Rose genetics. Anger stirred in her heart. When he attacked Logan, he set himself against her. But they didn’t need more enemies right then, not with the blonde man seeking her auburn hair across the Waikato.
Logan napped but Hana plotted, a crazy idea forming in her mind. Sunlight streamed across the floorboards, dappling the wood with light and shadows as the clouds scudded across the sky. It turned the brown to red and back again and Hana smiled. She slipped from beneath the blanket and covered Logan, showering and dressing before making a phone call. When she woke him with a coffee, his mood went from zero to ten and not in a good way.
“You did what? I said no!” Logan snapped. He groaned as he sat up and leaned his back against the sofa. Hana plonked his coffee on the table.
“It’s not local,” she said, tossing her hair. “And I’m going. You’re welcome to come. I made you an appointment but I can apologise. Drink your coffee and hurry up. It’ll take a while to get there.”
“You’re not going.” Logan reached for his coffee and Hana noticed he used his left hand. It wobbled but he forced the muscles to work inside the cast. “I hid the car keys.”
Hana sniffed and gathered her hair into a baseball cap. “Yeah, but you’re rubbish at hiding things.” She pulled the keys from her pocket and dangled them in front of his nose. “Undies drawers are the first place burglars look.”
Logan sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Ah, Hana.”
“It’s Te Kauwhata, Logan. They won’t look there. It’s too far out. The hairdressers is further up the road than the fabric warehouse.”
“Fine!” Logan conceded. “But please, no more fabric and paint. Not today.”
“Deal.” Satisfied, Hana high-fived him and helped him up. Logan pushed his fingers through the belt loops of her jeans and hauled her against his nakedness.
“Or I could just keep you here.” He pushed his face into her neck and teased the soft skin with his teeth.
Hana wriggled out of his grasp and fled, calling over her shoulder. “I’m leaving in fifteen minutes, mop head.” She jingled the car key on its ring and laughed at Logan’s groan of defeat.
Hana drove to the small rural town, her gaze stroking the sign for the paint shop as they passed. Logan narrowed his eyes at her and reinforced their agreement without words. Hana laughed. The hairdressing shop proved a flash affair for a tiny rural outpost. Upmarket fittings and trendy young women belied the image in Hana’s head. Logan succumbed to the shampoo with great reluctance, used to dashing into his barbers and out again in under fifteen minutes. The women gave him extra attention and he cringed while Hana seethed.
A spark of jealousy began in her heart and she recognised a fire she would endure for as long as she remained the wife of Logan Du Rose. She saw him through their eyes, tall, handsome and oozing mana like a rangatira. He attracted attention through his stunning good looks but a glimpse of the strength beneath proved addictive. His lack of interest in the fussing women acted as an aphrodisiac and Hana seethed beneath the foil wraps and hair colour. They didn’t leave him alone and every eye seemed focussed on him.
“I’m going to the coffee shop next door,” Logan whispered, squatting next to her and lowering his voice. “This place is too girly for me. I don’t wanna sit and flick through women’s magazines while you finish.”
“Okay.” Hana tried to remove the frost from her tone. “Your hair looks more teacher and less bum.”
“Thanks.” Logan ran a hand through it with approval. “What are they doing to you? It looks like torture.”
Hana snorted and rustled the magazine on her thighs. “I’m fine. Just a few highlights to break up the red.”
“Ah. Okay.” Bemused, Logan stood and kissed her lips, avoiding the rustling foils dangling from her hair. “Text me when you’re done and I’ll come back.” He patted the phone in his pocket and wrinkled his nose. “I should buy a new one. I need data for emailing and stuff.”
“It’s not urgent,” Hana replied, panicking as the most interested of the women made a beeline for them. “You go. Enjoy your coffee.”
Logan winked at her and made his escape as the hairdresser clacked across. She looked disappointed to see him leave. “Where did you find him?” she breathed in a conspiratorial tone. “And are there any more where he came from?”
Hana gave a dry smile in response, the expression not reaching her eyes. The woman inspected the foils and widened her eyes. “Not long now and you’ll be a new woman.”
Hana took another two hours. She emerged from the salon feeling nervous and steeled herself before walking into the coffee shop. She feared Logan’s reaction, knowing how much he adored her red hair. He gaped as she walked towards him and his jaw hung as he searched for suitable words. Hana raised a hand to prevent his struggle. “I know what you’re going to say.” She sank into the chair next to him. “But it’s a solution for now.”
Logan shrugged. “It’s your hair, babe.” He studied her through narrowed eyes. “I like it. It’s classy. It looks like lots of different colours.”
Hana sighed with relief and reached for his fingers. The contact gave her courage. “She mixed lots of browns and caramels and reds. The regrowth will look hideous, but I’m hoping all this is over by then. She added blonde streaks and lighter colours to create an overall effect. I don’t look like a redhead, which is the most important factor.”
Logan squeezed her fingers and leaned closer. “You’re still Hana Du Rose to me,” he whispered and his lips looked soft and beckoning.
“Thanks.” Hana gave him a beautiful smile and sniffed the air. “I’ll grab a herbal tea and we can go home.”
“Okay.” Logan walked to the counter and returned with a take away cup.
Hana took it in confusion. “Sorry, are you sick of sitting here? Do you want to leave straight away?”
“Yes.” Logan waited as she took a sip and stood. Her mouth burned on the heated liquid and she winced. “I didn’t spend the whole time here. I found a shop in a back street and bought what we talked about. I need a particular sort of ammo for it and they didn’t have it.” He followed Hana into the street. “How would you feel about stopping by my parents’ place? I know there’s some there. You could have a practice.”
Hana gaped in surprise. The colour drained from her cheeks at the thought of facing Logan’s family, but the words stuck in her throat. She swallowed and gave a small nod but the effort cost her. “Okay,” she agreed.
“Cool.” Logan put out his hand for the keys and Hana shook her head.
“No, you’re not insured to drive Bo’s car.” She bit back the rebuke about his jaunt the previous day.
“I have my own insurance,” Logan protested and Hana refused.
“And a broken arm.”
She cut across country at Logan’s direction and in under an hour they reached the hotel. Bodie’s car hated the rutted driveway and Hana’s lower lip stung from biting it. Half way along, they bounced onto a proper road surface and the awful creaks and groans stopped. “They’re creating a decent driveway?” Hana remarked and Logan gave an upwards jerk of his head. “Thank goodness,” she breathed under her breath.
“Park in f
ront of the steps,” Logan said as Hana swung the car through the gates. A fresh coating of gravel kicked up dust.
“It’s fine. I’ll use the car park.” Hana reversed into a space, surprised to see how many cars already sojourned there. “There are lots of guests for a week day,” she remarked.
“Yep.” Logan pushed the passenger door open. “The power of advertising.”
The receptionist saw Logan appear through the main doors and reached for a radio handset. Miriam ran down the long corridor from the kitchen to greet him only seconds later. She behaved as though nothing happened and wrapped Hana in a firm embrace. “You look different!” she commented. “I didn’t recognise you.”
Hana gave a wry smile and wondered if her mother-in-law fancied her already dumped and history. “Bad luck,” she muttered under her breath. Logan’s ears twitched and she pursed her lips, realising he heard her biting retort. She shuddered at the memory of her last visit and watched Miriam for some acknowledgement of the events of that day. Nothing. Hana seemed trapped in a time warp where only she remembered Tama attacking Logan and the awful unmasking of the Du Roses’ true face.
Miriam turned her back on Hana, freezing her out of a whispered conversation with Logan. “How are you?” she asked. “I couldn’t come.”
Logan shook his head and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “It’s okay Ma,” he responded. “It’s always okay.” He released her and turned to walk up the main corridor. Hana trailed behind, sensing the receptionist’s gaze locked on their progress.
“How long are you here for?” Miriam asked and Hana experienced a flash of shame as she heard the hope in her voice. Logan turned on the spot.
“Just this afternoon. I need to collect some stuff. Where’s Dad?”
Hana noticed a tiny speck of hurt in Miriam’s expression. She glanced up at Logan and knew he didn’t see. His mother seemed to crumble inward and a memory of Indra rose unbidden into Hana’s mind. They buried more than two decades of hurt and rejection in a single visit and Hana knew perspective made that possible. She searched for something in her heart which might allow her to connect with Logan’s mother and found only the olive branch of peace.
