The New Du Rose Matriarch

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Hana woke again and fed the stirring baby, keen to prolong their peace. When she dozed, Caroline’s influence snaked its destructive fingers into her slumber. Terrifying images swirled before her and Caroline gripped a wailing Phoenix in manicured fingers. “She’s mine!” she screamed. “She’s Logan’s and that makes her mine!” Helplessness filled Hana’s world and her chest hitched with a terror which turned her inside out.

She woke with a start, grateful for the small body cradled against hers. With a shaking hand she pulled back the blanket and checked Phoenix, relieved at the sight of her closed eyes and relaxed face. Hana pushed herself back against the pillows and waited for her heart rate to slow.

Checking her watch, she saw that six hours of sleep had eaten into her day. Though her red curls stuck up like a banshee’s, her mood felt better.

The sound of the front door’s familiar click reignited the pounding in Hana’s chest. Her body stiffened as an old fear reaction kicked in. “It’s just Caroline again,” she told herself. “I can deal with her.” She lay the baby on the mattress and shifted sideways, ready to launch herself at the bedroom door. Footsteps walked along the hallway, setting off a series of creaky floorboards. Hana inched backwards until her socks hit the bedside rug and she forced her feet to skirt the end of the bed. “Caroline doesn’t have a key,” she hissed. Her fingers gripped the post nearest the door and the green voile cascaded down in the air current.

“Hey.” Logan’s face peered around the door and Hana released an exaggerated exhale. His head jerked backwards. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Hana glanced at the peaceful baby and jabbed her head towards the hallway, a finger already making its way up to cover her lips. She followed him on trembling legs, still shaken by the sudden withdrawal of adrenaline. Logan leaned against the wall and pushed his hands into the pockets of his leather trousers. His motorbike helmet sat by the front door. “Have you left me?” he asked, his voice small.

Hana released a whoosh of air. “No, Logan. I’ve left that awful unit. I can’t stay there with a new baby.”

Logan nodded, his dark fringe dropping over his eyes and shuttering his emotions. He gave a short nod. “Okay.” The forced smile didn’t involve his eyes. “Sorry.” He reached out a tentative hand and stroked her hair away from her forehead. “I tried to ring here and your cell phone a few times. Then I went to the unit after school.” His jaw worked in his cheek, creating a dimple which appeared and then receded.

“I haven’t left you, Logan.” Hana pressed herself into his chest, smelling motorbike oil and the warmth of the sunshine on his leather jacket. “I promise.” She let his lips graze hers, sighing with relief as he pulled her closer and enfolded her in his strong arms.

“Good,” he whispered. “Because then I’d have to kill you and bury you under the deck.”

Hana snorted, the sound echoing around the lobby. “No interruptions, cool dark space to sleep. Sounds amazing.”

Logan’s smile made it to his eyes and he bumped the end of her nose with his. “Whatever, Mrs Du Rose,” he replied. He noticed the loose phone cord and bent to retrieve it, tracing it back to the handset.

“Don’t!” Hana stopped him plugging it in. “Just leave it.”

“Why?” His eyes narrowed and he drew himself up to his massive full height. “What’s really going on?”

“Nothing!” The lie tripped off her tongue and she sensed he knew. She hoped Caroline was responsible for the spooky feelings she had on the school site, but instinct told her not. Her brow furrowed. “I spent the last two days with a crying baby, Logan. She’s sleeping right now. If it’s all right with you, I’d appreciate her staying that way for a while longer.”

Logan dropped the wire as though it contaminated him and strode towards the kitchen. Hana pushed the door closed behind her and leaned against it. “Sorry,” she breathed, running a hand over her eyes. “Just tired and snappy.”

Logan nodded and filled the kettle with water. “No, I’m sorry.” He flicked the switch and sighed. “I let myself get trapped into something I can’t get out of and I’ve made you feel second best along the way.” He licked his lips and picked at a speck of oil on his jacket. “A few more weeks and the new guy will arrive, I’ll go back to teaching and we can come home.” Dumping tea bags into the chipped brown pot, he opened the fridge door and cursed. “Crap. No milk.”

Hana closed her eyes and leaned the back of her head against the door. Logan’s presence brought the outside world into her safe haven and tension crept into her spine. “There’s nothing here,” she whispered, holding onto the ready tears collecting behind her eyelids.

“Sweetheart.” Logan pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head. “What can I do?”

Hana sniffed and wiped her nose on his jacket, leaving a streak. “Quit the boarding house job right now and stay here with me.” She pressed her face into his collarbone, enjoying his scent for real instead of through his abandoned clothing at the staff unit.

“This is a disaster, isn’t it?” he replied. “Angus suckered me and I fell for it. I needed a challenge to take my mind off what happened at Christmas.” His voice trailed off and he balanced his chin on the top of Hana’s head.

“I can distract you.” She slipped her fingers under the heavy jacket and parted the buttons of his work shirt. Her lips found smooth flesh. “I can take your mind off everything.” She experienced a flurry of excitement when he held his breath. Glancing up, she saw his grey irises darken with desire. She reached up and stroked his cheek. “You have us, Logan,” she whispered. “We love you.”

“I know.” His lips pressed over hers and he closed his eyes. “I love you too wahine.”

Hana squeaked as Logan dipped his body and caught her beneath her thighs. He hoisted her up in one fluid movement. His taut stomach muscles pressed against her side and he carried her into the lobby. “Phoe’s on the bed,” she reminded him as he headed for their bedroom door and he changed direction, laying her on the red rug in the lounge. She giggled as he made an art form out of undressing her, recapturing some of her pre-pregnancy confidence beneath his gentle, solicitous touch.

The peace of the house enfolded them as they reconnected, healing each other through mutual tenderness. Logan kissed the soft skin on Hana’s neck, shifting her curls aside and feeling them cascade through his fingers. His lips felt warm against hers and she responded to his gentle touch.

They lay beneath a blanket, legs tangled together on the rug. Hana leaned her cheek on her elbow and admired Logan’s biceps as he snatched a cushion from the sofa for her head. “I’ve missed this place,” she sighed.

Logan leaned back against the sofa, his expression thoughtful. He played with a strand of Hana’s red hair, twisting and turning the amber tresses in fingers scarred and damaged by cuts which took longer to heal for him. Hana touched his chest, parting his open shirt to run her fingers over the rugged welt snaking across his ribs. She traced it, sensing his gaze fixed on her face and feeling tension hike in the room. His silence said it all.

Dread slipped its horrid fingers around her heart and Hana closed her eyes. Logan pulled her chin up with his index finger. “Look at me, Hana.”

In response, she burst into noisy tears as her fragile peace shattered. “Hey, hey,” he breathed, hunkering down and pulling her closer. “Women don’t normally cry when I make love to them.” His strained humour fell on deaf ears and his forehead creased in concern.

“Don’t make me go back there.” Hana pressed her face into Logan’s chest, her tears leaving sticky tracks through the downy hair. “Please don’t make me.”

Phoenix squeaked from their bedroom and the moment ended without conclusion. Logan heaved in a ragged sigh and stood, hauling his shorts on and leaving Hana to wrap herself in the blanket and follow. Her breasts felt full and sore and she paused at the bedroom door with the fabric clutched at her throat. Phoenix lay in the centre of the huge bed, her legs waggling in the air. Happy sounds issued from her lips and her gaze tracked something unseen on the ceiling. Hana sniffed and wiped her nose on the blanket. “I hope she’s hungry,” she said.

Logan wrinkled his nose. “Probably. But she also stinks.”

Hana pushed the bag of supplies towards the bottom of the bed, guiding it with her foot and watching her daughter. “Your turn,” she said. Phoenix cooed up at her father, enjoying a debate only she understood. “I’ll freshen up.” Hana headed for the bathroom to regroup and dry her tears.

Her resolve crumbled with the click of the lock and she sank onto the lid of the toilet. “I can’t go back,” she sobbed into a wad of toilet roll, muffling the sounds of her misery. “I can’t do this.” She wrestled with her limited options, picking them over as though selecting shells on a beach. If she refused to return to the school site, she left Logan vulnerable to Caroline’s charms and while she doubted he’d succumb, she couldn’t take the risk. The boarding house master’s role stipulated living on site and Angus wouldn’t budge on that issue. With or without her, Logan needed to stay at the unit.

Hana scrubbed at her face with a cool flannel, no nearer a conclusion. “Caroline!” She spat the woman’s name, hating her constant interference and the way it shaped her decisions. “Logan wouldn’t cheat with her,” she breathed. “He wouldn’t.” She believed her own words. Any doubts she’d entertained ended at Reuben and Miriam’s funeral. Logan avoided Caroline with a rudeness bordering on vicious. She’d exercised one betrayal too many and he’d cut her out of his life forever. Hana’s relief felt short lived, especially if Caroline had returned to Hamilton.

She recalled the sounds of the funeral and smell of the smoked taro unearthed from the hangi. The feast should have united a family over the shared meal, restoring noa and normality after the burial. Logan made a pretence of eating the smoked chicken and vegetables and chatting to the marae elders. Only Hana saw his desolation. The boarding house had become his new mission to avoid facing the damaging family secret. His father was not his father.

Hana moved to the edge of the bath and listened to him play with his daughter. His peace seemed so fragile. She mentally traced the line of his tattoo as it wound around his upper arm. The whakapapa portrayed his precious French Du Rose lineage as it intertwined with Māori. Dark and indelible, it followed the wrong line, mocking him every time he looked in the mirror.

They hadn’t talked yet, not in the six weeks since the fire. A gnawing ache flooded Logan’s eyes when he mentioned Alfred. He didn’t speak Miriam’s name anymore. She made her choice, marrying one brother whilst continuing her affair with the other.

Hana dried her face and contemplated herself in the bathroom mirror. She saw long, messy red curls spread over her shoulders and swollen green eyes, puffy from crying. “Not attractive,” she chastised, comparing herself to Caroline with her polished nails and perfect makeup. Thoughts of returning to the school site sapped the rest of her energy and she tried to rally. “You lost one husband and you’re sobbing through your second chance.” She sighed at her reflection, squaring her shoulders and letting the blanket slither to the tiled floor. “You’re not bad for your age.” Her index finger prodded her abdomen and then her left breast. “Get it together, Hana.”

Phoenix represented the start of something pure, a new legacy. Logan made a promise to his paternal grandmother to create something different from their deceitful, a******y-riddled heritage. Her blood still ran through his veins. And his daughter’s. He could still achieve it, but not without Hana.

She freshened her appearance, damping her unruly curls and masking her puffy eyes with makeup. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she set her jaw in a determined line and arranged her features into less of a grimace. She emerged from the bathroom with a different mind-set to the bedraggled woman who went in.

Hana retrieved her clothes from the lounge rug and replaced the blanket. She followed the sound of Logan’s voice to the bedroom. His conversation made her halt just outside the door. “I was fourteen when I met your mother,” he said. “I’d never seen such a beautiful wahine.” Phoenix kicked her legs and a tube of nappy cream flew off the side of the bed. Logan’s expression seemed distant, his mind in London on a dirty tube train almost three decades earlier. He sighed and pulled himself back to the present, his lips curving into a sad smile. “Twenty-six years searching for her and now I’m losing her.”

“That’s not true.” Hana saw Logan jump as she stepped into the room. Guilt and shame darkened his eyes. His long fingers fixed the nappy around his daughter’s rounded belly and he fumbled with the press studs on her sleep suit. Hana heard the portcullis slam down over his heart.

“Will you teach her the old ways?” she asked, perching on the edge of the bed.

Logan shrugged and changed the action to a nod. “Yeah. I’ll help her create her own mihi so she knows where she comes from.” Hana’s heart chilled as he lifted Phoenix over his shoulder and kissed her downy head. “It’s important to know where you’re from, baby. Otherwise you end up like me.”

“Like you how, Logan?” Hana watched his jaw flex in his cheek and he refused to meet her gaze.

“The bastard son of a disgraced uncle,” he replied, his tone clipped and formal. “Hanging onto a heritage that isn’t mine.”

Hana shook her head. “Orphaned and grieving,” she whispered. Logan stood up, the movement jerky and awkward. The baby’s head bounced against his neck and she rubbed her eyes with a tiny fist.

“I’m too old to be an orphan,” Logan snapped, his voice hard. “And I’ll save my grief for those who deserve it.”

Hana sighed, the moment of candid honesty over. She inhaled and rose, brushing imaginary dust from her pants. “I’m ready,” she said, snatching up the bag and reaching for a spare nappy and baby wipes. “Just let me feed Phoe and we can leave.”

Logan shook his head and walked towards the door. “Not tonight,” he said. The scar beneath his right eye creased as he grimaced. “I just called Angus. He’s agreed to renovate the unit. You can inspect it when it’s done and if you don’t like it, we won’t go back.”

“What did you say to him?” Hana’s brow furrowed. “He never caves in that easily.”

Logan’s eyes widened and she saw the latent fire burning in his soul. Something told her the conversation hadn’t sounded pleasant. “It doesn’t matter,” he bit. “He sorts it out, or he finds himself another manager. That’s the score.”

Hana watched as the rigidity relaxed in his spine. His hand shook as he patted the baby’s back and his gaze rested on her face. Irises the colour of slate carved a groove in her soul and she sensed his pain. “My girls are all I’ve got left, Hana. I won’t take any more risks.”

She exhaled after he left the room, listening to his feet pad through the lobby. She ran a hand over her face and rejoiced in her unexpected reprieve. A break from the bugs and the holes in the ceiling gave her a heady sense of relief and she sank onto the mattress. A break from Caroline’s interference and from the eyes which studied her every move, whoever they belonged to.