One Heartbeat

Chapter 4-2

They sped as far as Parker Road and Logan indicated left and made the turn, travelling the gravel road with care to avoid damaging his bike. At the small car park for the reserve he pulled in and parked, kicking the stand to support the bike. Only one other vehicle shared the space, a dark silhouette with a hunting dog’s crate open in the back. Logan switched off the engine and lifted his leg over the massive chassis, but when he removed his helmet Hana remained still. Logan released her chin strap with gentle fingers and lifted her helmet off, brushing her red curls away from her face. She smiled at him in the darkness, not wanting to spoil the moment with words.

Hana perched on the bike as Logan put his arms around her and pressed his lips over hers. It felt private and safe, just the two of them. No fathers intruded, jumping from the woodwork like crazy jack-in-the-boxes to destroy everything. Logan’s hand snaked beneath Hana’s jacket and his fingers pushed her shirt up. His kiss deepened, searching for something in her soul. His touch against her ribs made her shiver. “Here?” she whispered and felt his nod against her cheek.

Logan lifted her from the bike and led her metres away. He spread his leather jacket on the ground between crowded punga trees. The unexpected exhilaration of the bike ride left a blush of risk on Hana’s psyche and made her daring enough to undo Logan’s jeans and expose him to the night. He moaned in pleasure and the sound induced a flicker of recklessness in her stomach.

Logan’s kiss robbed her of air and his skin felt fiery to the touch. The cold licked at the fringes of Hana’s nakedness as she stripped, winter nipping at her soft flesh. Passion dulled her awareness of the night noises as she sank to the ground, but they crept back into her consciousness as the pleasure passed and sanity returned. The creases of the jacket dug into her left hip and she jumped and squealed as a red eyed possum took a short cut next to her foot. Logan laughed, his deep melodious tones spreading through the darkness as he kept Hana beneath him. He kissed her again, nipping at her lower lip. “I should get you home,” he whispered into her ear. “I left the boy taking care of our daughter. Anything could happen.”

Hana put her arms around his strong neck and wished she could stay in the moment. He hadn’t asked about her scene in the restaurant, but she owed him an explanation. Maihi was right. She needed to trust him. “That man,” she began. A gulp swallowed her words and she struggled to continue. “In the restaurant. He’s my father.”

Logan nodded. “I guessed.” He didn’t press, waiting while she wrangled her thoughts into order. He spun slow, sensuous circles against her ribs with his finger.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. The agony in her voice produced a low whine. Hana snatched at Logan’s fingers, twisting them in hers and threading them backwards and forwards in agitation. “I thought I dealt with my feelings.” She sounded petulant, like a child. “Why does my past keep coming back and messing things up?”

“Kōkau,” Logan whispered. “Because it’s unfinished.” He pushed his free hand through her hair at the back of her neck. Hana closed her eyes, allowing the soothing movement to touch her soul. She sighed and sat up, feeling a familiar tingle in her breasts. “I need to get back to Phoe.”

Logan studied the pale glint of Hana’s breasts in the moonlight. He reached out a hand to touch their fullness. He felt the dampness of milk on her n****e and his eyes flashed.

“No, we need to go.” Hana stood and replaced her clothing.

“If you’re sure,” Logan replied, his voice seductive. Hana bit her lip at the sight of his long olive body shrouded by leaves and ferns.

“I’m never sure of anything relating to you.” Hana smirked, pushing her swollen breasts into her bra and buttoning her blouse askew in the dim light.

Back at the bike, Logan settled the helmet over her head and Hana smirked at how he made even the simplest task into a seductive gesture. He put his thumb into the space at the front of the helmet and brushed her cheek before snapping the visor down over her inappropriate remark. He winked, fitted his helmet over his dark hair and swung his long leg over the saddle, careful not to swipe her off the pillion with his boot. Hana stiffened as he started the engine and the machine boomed to life, disturbing sleeping birds in the native trees. They cruised home and even the steep driveway didn’t seem as frightening as Hana remembered. Logan swung the bike down the slope and under the garage door as it opened, killing the engine and dismounting. He turned to Hana, looking at her in expectation as she stayed seated. Her fingers twisted her sleeve and she examined a clinging fern.

“Come on, Mrs Du Rose.” Logan smiled and his grey eyes sparkled as he removed Hana’s helmet. She pouted, wanting him to kiss her again and disappointed when he didn’t. Instead, he held his hand out to help her dismount. In rebellion, she ignored him and c****d her leg over the front instead. The bike tipped with her uneven weight and Hana inhaled a frightened breath. “i***t!” Logan caught her in his strong arms and set her down on the concrete floor. Hana breathed in his essence, torn between wanting her daughter and needing her husband. She pressed her face against his chest and heard herself groan.

“What can I do, Hana?” His voice sounded gentle and he made rubbing motions against her back. “Tell me how to help.”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I’ll tell you as soon as I work it out.”

“You do that.” Logan kissed the top of her head. “I love you,” he whispered. “Don’t ever doubt it.”

“Thank you.” Hana felt her chest hitch and held her breath, not wanting the misery to gain a foothold again. She let Logan remove her boots, enjoying his gentle touch against her feet. She moaned as he rubbed her toes and clapped a hand across her mouth to suppress the sound. “I fancied you from the first moment I saw you.” The words slipped free and Logan looked up at her, setting her boots to one side.

“Really?” His brow furrowed. “Did you?”

“Yeah.” Hana dropped her hand and twisted the cord from her jacket in agonised fingers. “How long did it take you to pluck up the courage to speak to me?”

“Weeks.” Logan rose and his lips quirked. “But you already know that story.”

“The-girl-on-the-train,” Hana murmured. “The-Circle-Line-girl.” She pulled the plastic toggle off the end of the cord, seeming surprised once it sat loose in her palm. “We were just kids on that tube train. It was a lifetime ago.” She looked at her husband with a sigh. Her fingers stroked the handlebar next to her, feeling the rubber grips underneath as though reading braille. “Do you ever wish we could go back and do things differently?”

Logan took her hand and pressed her fingers to his lips, sensing she probed their shared history because the day’s events had left her too afraid to go forward. He gathered her into him and Hana enjoyed the abandon of the moment, wrenching at the zipper of his jacket with naked hunger. “No,” he breathed. “I don’t. Because there’s no guarantee I’d still end up here with you.”

The clearing of a male throat cut through the tender moment. Hana looked towards the staircase and saw Tama standing on the top step holding Phoenix. He covered her eyes with one hand and she frantically rooted for his fingers with her rosebud lips, believing her food would somehow materialise there. Tama looked embarrassed. “Hey, old people getting it on in the garage; don’t mind us.” He indicated with his head towards the helmets nestled together next to the bike. “So, you finally got to use your new helmet?”

Hana heard Logan give a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, sorry,” Tama said, noticing his uncle’s flash of irritation. “I didn’t mean to spoil things.” He fixed his gaze on Hana. “Can you feed your daughter please, Ma? She’s eaten a whole bowl of baby rice and is still hungry.” He turned and headed back up the stairs to the hallway above, carrying the baby who let out a wail of angry denial.

“You bought the helmet for me?” Hana asked.

Logan shrugged and nodded. “Yeah. A while ago.”

She breathed out a sigh of relief. “I assumed it was Caroline’s,” she said. She knew she poked the wasps’ nest but couldn’t control her mouth.

“Hana, stop.” Logan gritted his teeth at the reference to his destructive ex fiancé. “I know you’re hurting, but don’t punish me.”

“Sorry.” Hana lowered her eyes in contrition. “I enjoyed the ride though,” she conceded. “Maybe we could do it again soon?”

Logan’s lips broke into a smile as though she’d handed him the missing puzzle piece. It formed a milestone, another hurdle in their young marriage tackled and defeated. “Okay. Deal.”

Hana fed the baby in the kitchen, feeling the pressure from her swollen breasts lessen. Phoenix played hidey boo, wrenching the woolly jumper from over her face and displaying smiling grey almond eyes. Her right arm rested against Hana’s waist and her tiny, smooth palm ran up and down her mother’s bare skin. Her slate grey eyes, olive face and dark hair matched the other two people in the room. Hana sat her up to pat her back. “You’re just mucking around now, baby,” she said with a smile in her voice.

“She scoffed the baby rice.” Tama flicked at the pages of the telephone directory on the table. “She’s definitely a Du Rose.”

Hana wrinkled her nose. “Why is the telephone book out? Were you looking for something?”

“Yes. No.” Tama stopped and looked across at his uncle. Logan’s face darkened and became unreadable. Tama felt the grey eyes boring into the side of his face and cringed.

Hana grew silent as the awkwardness stretched on, knowing she would never get a straight answer. Her mind flipped elsewhere, to an old fashioned living room in a mock Tudor house and a mixed up, psychotic man with a grudge against her husband’s family. She stared at the red mark on her wrist where a crystal glass shattered and its ragged shard penetrated her vein. The surgical wound rose pink against her pale, delicate skin. “A woman at the baby clinic thought I’d tried to kill myself.” Her voice broke the silence and Logan let out a gasp of horror.

“What?”

Hana’s voice sounded low and her brow furrowed in a mix of emotions. “She handed me a leaflet and called me selfish.”

“Then she’s an i***t. She doesn’t know what happened, Hana. Don’t listen to people like that.” Logan crossed the room in two strides and dropped to his haunches before her. He retrieved Phoenix and handed her off to Tama. “Why are you thinking about that now?” he demanded, his eyes the colour of grit. He scowled at the phone book as though holding it responsible for Hana’s wandering thoughts.

“Because of what happened this morning.” Her voice wavered. “He’d probably think that too.”

“Who?” Tama bounced Phoenix on his knee and feigned innocence. Logan rolled his eyes and Tama silenced.

“The court case is coming up,” Hana said. “The detective said I have to give evidence even though I don’t want to. He’s afraid Laval will get off the charges.”

Logan squeezed her and kissed the side of her face, unable to argue with fact. Tama played with Phoenix and couldn’t look at either of them. “We’ve been here before,” Logan said, his lips against her hair. “And you pray about stuff, so it’s up to your God. We all know you’re a praying woman, so if He can’t sort it, it sucks to be Him, aye?”