by K T Bowes
“Oh.” Hana’s eyes widened in surprise. She expected justifications and the same stone wall she ran up against before. Its absence left her without a ready reply. “Thank you,” she said after a moment of floundering. “I appreciate it.” She bent her head and sucked strawberry smoothie up the straw.
Anka wasn’t finished. “Ivan asked me to come home. He says he’s forgiven me and we’re trying to put things back together. It will never be as before, but I think it’s what I want.”
Hana raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Charlotte told me. Weeks ago.”
“Ah, yes. I should’ve got in touch sooner.” She tripped over her words. “I feel embarrassed about my behaviour and I put off meeting you for that reason.” Anka closed her eyes and her expression radiated pain through the dark shadows of sleeplessness. “I have no excuses.” When she opened her eyes, Hana saw tears glittering as they formed up to create a deluge.
“I accept your apology. We need not rake through it all.” She screwed up the corners of her eyes and placed a hand over Anka’s.
“I found the bottom of who I really am and I don’t like her.” Anka’s whisper caused Hana to wince.
“Don’t,” she replied, shaking her head. “None of us are perfect. Do you remember what that pastor from Africa once said? ‘I knew who I was when I leaned forward, because it came out of my mouth.’ It’s like that for all of us. We discover our worst faults under pressure.”
“I didn’t think I could be that diabolical though.” Anka pursed her lips and Hana snorted. A combination of relief and brain freeze made her giddy.
“Sorry. That hits a bit close to home. I’ve behaved like a brat recently.”
Anka nodded and her smile looked easier. “I know Ivan rang you after I left. I also know he blamed you and that wasn’t fair. He’ll apologise when he sees you.”
“No.” Hana waved a hand in denial. “Tell him not to. I want to forget all of it.”
Anka reached for Hana’s hand, holding it until the circulation struggled. Hana ground her teeth and hoped she let go before nerve damage started. Something in her friend’s expression made her doubt. “It is over, isn’t it?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes.
“Yes!” Anka let go of her hand, a small, telling action. “Tama followed me up north, got drunk and caused trouble where I worked. They fired me. I caught the bus to Mangawhai Heads. It seemed appropriate to go to the last place I remembered being happy.”
Hana chewed her lip and thought about Anka’s words, searching her own life for the last time she felt happy. She knew the answer. Her wedding night.
Anka swallowed another mouthful of coffee. “I sat for a day and cried my eyes out. What I’d done seemed so unbelievable. When I got to the very end of my rope, Ivan checked in. He won’t say how he found me, but I think your son played a part.” Anka licked her lips. “It’s almost too fantastic to be true, but Tama turned up there. He looked so drunk; I’m amazed he made it. He said he followed the bus, but drove too far south before realising I already got off. He looked wasted.”
“So Ivan gave him a black eye?” Hana watched Anka’s slow nod.
“Yeah. Ivan didn’t want to hit him, but Tama saw him and went crazy. He launched himself at Ivan with a tyre wrench in his hand.”
Hana shuddered, wishing Liza let her call the police when Tama produced the crowbar and hit Logan. She sighed. “Is that the moment Tama remembered Ivan trained as a purple belt in Judo?”
“About then, yeah.” Anka sighed.
Finishing her smoothie, Hana felt the discomfort growing in her belly and shifted around on her chair. “Could we go for a walk?” she asked.
Anka nodded and retrieved her jacket, also grabbing the bill for the drinks before Hana could reach for her purse. “My treat,” she muttered.
Hana texted Logan from the bathroom, explaining they would walk for a while and return to the cafe. The smiley face he sent impressed her as opposed to his usual trick of reading and not replying.
The women breathed in the wintry air near the riverbank and Anka looked sideways at Hana. “You look happy,” she commented. “I’m pleased it worked out.”
Hana fought the urge to scream that it hadn’t, blanching beneath the inaccuracy of the assumption. She didn’t remember what happy felt like anymore. Happiness died the day after her wedding.
Logan picked Hana up from outside the cafe, giving Anka a cursory nod. The smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes. He neither wanted nor expected an apology. Hana waved as the car pulled away from the curb, sitting in silence during the car ride. “Did you tell her?” Logan asked, breaking the silence. “About the baby?”
“No.” Hana shook her head, her tone sad in the darkness. “It’s not the kind of friendship to share secrets in anymore.” He nodded and pulled his shirt away from his scar. Hana furrowed her brow at the sleight-of-hand action, reminded of his constant pain and difficulty in healing. She often forgot that he bore the physical wounds from Anka and Tama’s indiscretion. It put her self-pity into perspective. “Did you go to the gym at lunchtime?” she asked, attempting to make conversation.
Logan nodded and turned the car onto Hakarimata Road. His fringe bobbed against his eyelashes. “Yeah. I ran on the treadmill. No point trying to lift weights yet. I’ve missed all the soccer musters and grading games, anyway. There’s no rush now.”
“I’m sorry.” Hana reached across and laid a tentative hand on his thigh. He jumped in surprise and the car jerked sideways. “I’m sorry for everything,” she whispered. Tears pricked against her eyelids and she felt grateful for the strong hand which encased her fingers.
“It’s okay,” he replied.
The butterfly in her stomach began again, a steady insistent flutter. Hana’s faith in her ability to achieve any level of happiness increased.
Gentle lights flowed from Culver’s Cottage as timer lamps flicked themselves on with the growing darkness. Logan drove the Honda down the slope and under the opening garage door, avoiding exposure to the biting wind outside. “I’ll turn the alarm off,” he said, skipping up the stairs ahead of Hana. She knew he checked the house each night, searching for intruders despite the burglar alarm.
Hana followed, watching her footing in the yellow glow from the overhead bulb. Her trousers cut into her waist and the stairs felt endless. Logan clattered around in the kitchen and Hana called to him, “I’ll get into my pyjamas. My trousers hurt.” She yanked on her zipper, groaning with relief as it slid down and allowed her to breathe. She paused for a moment, measuring the gentle swell of her stomach. Turning towards the bedroom, Hana caught sight of something through the corner of her eye. The glass door to the roof garden blinked back at her, her view obscured by the darkness. “What’s that?” she said, walking towards the door.
“What?” Logan stuck his head through the kitchen doorway. “Tea or water?”
“No!” Hana raised her hand to her mouth and knelt down. “Oh no!” A small shape slumped on the doormat, lit by the glow from the hall light. “It’s Tiger!” Hysteria raised Hana’s voice and her breathing hitched. “He’s dead!”
Logan’s long stride sent him to her side in a matter of seconds. He crouched next to her and pulled her hand from the glass. “It’s a possum,” he said, slipping an arm around her shoulders.
Hana looked at the glassy dead eyes of the creature and it stared through her, its matted fur on end in several places. Her mind flicked her back in time to the lifeless body of her husband laid on a mortuary slab in a clinical chapel. “Hana?” Logan squeezed her shoulder and looked down at her. “It’s just a possum. They bait up here so the cat probably killed it.”
Hana collapsed onto her bottom and heaved in a huge breath. “It’s too hard.” She gulped and Logan felt her body slump. “I can’t do this,” she gasped.
“Hana, it’s okay.” Logan supported her body as she reeled, sensing she meant more than the furry corpse on the doormat. Its eyes glinted. “
Sweetheart, things have a way of sorting themselves out. I promise.”
“No.” Hana shook her head and twisted away from him. “It’s all ruined. Everything is ruined. I need to get away from all this death and violence.” Her hands caressed her stomach. “I can’t do any of it.”
Logan pulled her to her feet and held her, pushing her face into his chest and stroking her back. “I’ll sort it,” he promised. “I’ll sort everything. It’s all I’ve tried to do.”
Tiger bounced onto the roof garden and plastered his body against the glass. He cuffed the dead possum with an outstretched paw and then danced backwards as though expecting it to stand and fight. Logan swore and Hana looked up. She opened her mouth to protest and he pressed a finger against her lips. “I’ll get rid of it,” he said. “Go to the bedroom.”
Hana moved backwards at a snail’s pace. Her gaze followed Logan as he unlocked the door and stepped onto the roof garden. He skirted the possum in his socks, swearing as he stepped in a pool of blood. Acid rose into Hana’s mouth and she inhaled, only just making it to the bathroom before vomiting.
She sat by the toilet, listening as Logan locked up the back door. He ran down to the garage and the thought of the blood on his socks sent Hana back over the bowl. He reappeared as she rinsed her mouth under the tap. “Hey, I got rid of it.” Logan waited until she sat on the side of the bath before washing his hands with soap and water.
“What about your socks?” Hana dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
“Dustbin.” Logan ran a damp hand across his face. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I should’ve seen it first and saved you the upset. I let you down.” He sat on the edge of the bath next to her. “I’ve done a lot of that lately.” Olive fingers raked through his dark hair. “I never expected to suck at marriage so badly.”
Hana nodded. “It’s harder than it looks.” She rubbed her eyes with her fingers, trying to remove the awful image of death which seemed burned on her retinas. “Are you sure the cat killed it?” she asked. “What if the blonde man found us and put it there as a warning?”
“He didn’t.” Logan took both her hands in his. “I promise. Will you trust me?”
Hana groaned. “Not that again. Logan, right now I can’t even trust myself.” She threw her head back and fixed her gaze on the ceiling. “There’s too much happening.”
Logan looked crushed, his irises dull and his lips turned down. “But I love you Hana Du Rose,” he whispered. “I’ll do anything to make it right.”
“Yeah, I think you will.” Hana looked into his face and ached for him. The wall between them lost a few bricks off the top and she shuffled closer. “Hold me?” she asked, sighing as Logan’s arms wrapped around her. He breathed into her neck and didn’t let go. His hand shook as he stroked her hair, teasing out small tangles and running the curls through his fingers.
Hana jumped as Tiger padded across the floor and wound his body through their legs. He jumped and butted the underside of her knee with his head, licking his lips and showing extreme pleasure with his conquest. Logan kissed the top of Hana’s head and gave her a squeeze. “Let me help you into bed and I’ll bring you a hot drink.”
Hana nodded and staggered to her feet, testing out her sea legs before attempting to walk. She lurched through to the bedroom, stripping out of her clothes on the way. Dumping the bundle on the chair, she flopped into the huge bed, no energy left even for talking.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Hana stirred as Bodie raised his voice. “I know what you did!” he shouted.
“Don’t fight.” Sleep slurred her words and the dream whipped them around her head until she no longer understood them.
“He’s talking crap as usual.” Vik postured and Hana cringed. She knew what came next and exhaustion sapped her energy.
“Don’t say it!” she shouted. “Don’t tell him. Please, don’t tell him.” She shot up the bed, seeing the horror in Bodie’s eyes.
Her feet felt glued to the mattress as she struggled to release them from the sheets. The cold air bit into her bare legs. Hana spun on the spot, trying to remember the way to the door and the voices ceased. “No!” she begged. “Please, no.”
Groggy and disoriented, she weaved around the room, tracing the furniture with her outstretched fingers until she found the door. She pushed it, feeling it resist. “I need to get out!” She slapped it with the palm of her hands, panic rising into her chest. “Let me out!”
“It’s okay, Hana. Let me do it.” The arm around her chest felt strong and confident fingers pulled her away from the door. Logan gripped her wrists in one hand and pulled her towards him, feeling her body jerk in fright. “It’s okay,” he repeated, easing the door towards them. “It opens inwards, remember?”
“No!” Hana slapped at his hands in panic. The door opened out, not inward. She hated it, unable to slam herself into the bedroom and vent her disappointment and rage. Still, he held her and the bedroom filled with the noise of her rasping breaths. The house sounded silent and it confused her. “Where’s Bo?” she demanded. “I don’t understand.”
“He’s at home in bed.” Logan’s steady voice added to the sense of calm. “You’re dreaming, Hana.”
Grief washed over her like a breaking wave and the barriers around her heart failed her in the darkness. Hana sobbed and Logan held her like a delicate piece of china, fearing the break on the inside might permeate to the outer. “I wish you’d tell me,” he whispered into her hair. Hana shook her head into his chest, remembering a phrase she heard the school chaplain use. ‘Trauma is like a packet of frozen peas. We drag it from the freezer years after they were snap frozen and packaged. Unless we deal with them, the emotions will taste just as fresh.’
The bitterness and the overwhelming sense of loss never changed for Hana. Life dulled the sharpness of its cut, but when tiredness overwhelmed her senses and forgetfulness altered reality, she felt it. The knowledge hit her like the grind of a broken bone, as painful each time as the first.
Hana cried until exhaustion claimed her, sweaty and clammy in the wide bed. Logan held her, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead and aching for her. The night terrors grew in intensity with each passing day of the pregnancy and he lacked the expertise to prevent them. Something from Hana’s past rose up to trouble her, but daytime left her tight lipped and in denial. She never remembered and he learned not to mention them. For weeks, her reliance on him to help her escape the room in her mind with the strange tricky door provided his only opportunity to demonstrate his love. Even if she blocked out his assistance during daylight hours. “Where do you go, Hana?” he whispered into her hair.
“Apartment,” she replied with a sigh. “Vik.” Her mind wandered back to the scruffy flat she and Vik barely afforded on their combined student loans. They brought the infant Bodie there at two days old, fumbling through the first year of a shaky marriage built on the foundations of an accidental pregnancy.
Logan sighed and stroked her back, jumping as Hana shot from the bed at speed. He heard her in the bathroom again and shook his head. Following, he handed her a wad of toilet roll to wipe her mouth once she felt the sickness ebb. She cleaned her teeth, trying not to look at the pale middle-aged woman staring back at her from the mirror. “I’m sorry,” she groaned, leaning her forehead against the cold wall.
Logan settled her back into bed and tucked her beneath the covers. “I’ll fetch you a drink of warm water,” he said, his voice soft. “Will that help?”
Hana nodded and listened to his footsteps pad through the house. She rubbed her eyes and wished away the night terrors which threatened more frequently of late. Logan returned with two mugs and Tiger hot on his heels. The cat leapt onto the bed and clawed at the rucks in the duvet. “Thanks.” Hana sat up and accepted the drink, holding it aloft so as not to spill as Logan settled onto the bed next to her.
“Did the possum cause the nightmare
?” Logan asked, his expression thoughtful. “Or something else.”
Hana set her mug on the bedside table and cuddled beneath the blankets. She pushed away the temptation to lie. “It started tonight’s,” she admitted. “My first nightmare happened after Vik’s funeral and they come when I’m stressed. They’ve got worse lately.”
Logan nodded and his eyebrows raised and fell. “I know.”
“I can sleep somewhere else if you want me to.” Hana chewed her lip and watched Logan’s eyes narrow.
“You can try it,” he said, his face growing hard. “But I’ll carry you straight back into my bed.”
Hana closed her eyes against the warm glow in her chest. His possessiveness revived a deep sense of longing. Logan reached out and stroked her hair. “You call for your husband.” His voice sounded empty and lost. For the first time since she married him, she saw the spectre of her dead husband challenging Logan for her affection. She understood how that must feel. Vik’s influence permeated further than Caroline’s. She could tarnish her own reputation with her behaviour, but Vik couldn’t. Death sainted him, yet he operated a long way from saintly during his lifetime.
Hana gritted her teeth. “It’s not what you think, Logan.” She inhaled and breathed out through pursed lips. “But I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Her hand sought her belly beneath the sheets and she steeled herself to confess at least part of her anxiety. “Bodie didn’t find the contents of the box in Jas’ room. It feels like the end of the road for me right now. I thought if I found the papers Jas tipped out, I’d have a bargaining chip for when the blonde man found me. Now I have nothing.”
“Let’s go to Amy’s after work tomorrow,” Logan suggested. “I’ll pull the room apart.” His long strokes across Hana’s head made her grow tired as she relaxed. Guilt pricked at her at the memory of her doctor’s appointment. Logan wrapped a curl around his finger. “What do you think?”
“I can’t tomorrow.” Hana swallowed and her body stiffened.
