One Heartbeat

Chapter 4-3

Hana smiled at her husband’s simplistic way of viewing her faith. Logan’s philosophies were refreshing, if sometimes a little skewed. She laid her head against him and relaxed, thinking of the exhilaration of the bike ride. Tama sat the baby’s butt on the table edge and supported her with his big hands. He played a stupid game considering she’d just fed. He pushed his head into her tummy and wiggled it around, his hair flopping like a mop. She squealed and laughed, wrapping her keen fingers through the curls and tugging.

“Oh crap!” he exclaimed as Phoenix leaned forward and vomited over the back of his head. She kept him pinned in place with her fingers trapped in his hair.

Logan laughed and delayed rescue, wanting his nephew to suffer. “That’s for the ice cream she’s not supposed to have,” he said with a smirk. “I might leave you there.”

Hana kicked him under the table and he reluctantly stood, dumping a tea towel on the back of Tama’s head and peeling Phoenix free. She kept handfuls of black hair in her tiny fists and whimpered sad squeaking noises of misery. Logan managed to get a napkin to her face as she barfed up more. “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed. “We told you this would happen!”

Tama headed from the kitchen with the tea towel wrapped around his face. Logan jerked his head towards his retreating back. “It’s Mary, mother of God,” he said, injecting sarcasm into his tone. Tama kept walking and a few seconds later, Hana heard the shower running. “Two in one day,” Logan said, grinning at her. “Do you think he’s growing up?”

Hana shook her head. “Na, he just knows he stinks for a change. Phoe should puke on him more often.”

Logan continued to grumble, patting the baby’s mouth with the napkin. “What can I do? The kid won’t listen.”

“Phoenix or Tama?” Hana yawned. “Don’t be so hard on him.” She lowered her voice. “He’s still a child. He opens his mouth without thinking and his brains roll out.” Logan raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment. “He’s trying, Loge, give him a chance,” Hana implored. “He’s desperate to please you.”

“Yeah, he’s very trying!” Logan commented under his breath and Hana sighed. He disappeared with Phoenix to their bedroom to wash and change her, returning with a clean daughter all ready for bed. In a sleep suit adorned with monkeys, Phoenix beamed at Hana and cuddled into Logan’s shoulder.

“I’m not sure I should feed her again,” Hana muttered, worried about the state of the child’s stomach. But Phoenix seemed keen to replace what she lost on the back of her cousin’s head and fed greedily. Logan picked up the guitar and strummed long, dark fingers over its strings, producing a low note. He fiddled with the tuning pegs to tighten the strings, dissatisfied with the sound. Hana watched in silence. Apart from Reuben’s striking looks and the ability to play, the instrument represented his only legacy to his son.

No longer feeling the music, Logan put the guitar against the pantry door and sat down. Phoenix saw him from an upside down position and smiled, a cheeky, conspiratorial beam. He grinned back and stroked her downy head. The baby head-butted Hana’s breast and carried on feeding, her lids growing heavy with sleep.

“Can I use the car for church in the morning?” Hana asked. “Or do you need it?”

Logan pulled a face. “I need to go out with Tama. Can I drop you off and fetch you afterwards?”

Hana nodded. “Yep. I’ll keep Phoenix with me. The older ladies adore her. I hardly see her for the entire service.”

Logan exhaled as though relieved. Hana eyed him sideways with suspicion. Experience taught her not to ask, suspecting she wouldn’t like the answer.

Hana tidied the kitchen while Logan put his daughter to bed. She fingered the phone directory on the kitchen table, her eyes narrowed with irritation. “Am I the only person who puts anything away?” she asked the empty room. With a shrug, she returned it to the hall cupboard.

Tama appeared from the shower grumpy and uncommunicative. His wet hair stuck up at odd angles as he stalked into the lounge, his track pants riding low over his boxer shorts. He slumped onto the sofa and switched on the television, losing himself in a mindless movie with the volume up loud.

“Bedtime,” Logan growled in Hana’s ear, slapping her backside and pushing her towards the bedroom. “We’ve unfinished business, wahine.” He locked the bedroom door and unbuttoned his shirt with slow, calculating movements. His eyes glimmered, dark and sultry.

Hana stirred around midnight in the throes of an awful dream. Michael Laval stood over her. He held Phoenix in his arms and laughed at Hana’s distress. Her wrist spurted a rainbow of crimson shades but she only cared about getting her baby back. She took the whisky glass and smashed it into his face over and over again, feeling anguish as he dropped the baby.

Hana woke with sweat streaming from her body and her nightdress soaked. She’d tangled herself in the covers with her thrashing and reaching out, she discovered Logan’s side of the bed empty. Her right hand brushed her left wrist expecting blood but felt only tenderness. The terror of the nightmare subsided to leave confusion.

Hana left the bed and padded across the room on shaking legs, the floorboards cold beneath her bare feet. She checked on Phoenix, putting her head inside the bedroom door and listening for her daughter’s comforting snuffles. No sound came from the room. Hana walked to the travel cot, pressing her hands over the sides. Her fingers touched the cold empty mattress and she panicked. She ran, drawn by the light under the lounge door and the baritone hum of male voices.

Logan spun to face her as she blasted into the room. He half rose and his gaze searched the empty hallway behind her. “What’s happened?” His voice sounded jerky and strange. The fire gave off an eerie glow behind him, outlining him with a yellow haze.

“She’s gone!” Hana heard the terror in her voice. “He’s taken her. He’s taken my baby!”

Tama turned and Hana saw Phoenix snuggled against his bare chest. She put her palms up to her face and tried to breathe as light-headedness overwhelmed her. Her body struggled to understand the message to stand down and blood rushed past her eardrums. Tama winced. “You said I had to take care of her if she cried. Because of the ice cream.” He sent a nervous glance towards Logan but his uncle had already reached Hana. He put his arms around her, stroking her hair and speaking soothing words over the top of her head.

Hana wore an old shirt of Logan’s from the hotel. It clung to her skin with damp patches evidence of her nightmare. “You had a bad dream,” Logan reassured her. “Phoe’s here, look. She woke around eleven with stomach ache but I was just debating putting her back in her cot.” He omitted his discussion with Tama over Hana’s father, raising an eyebrow at his nephew in a shared acknowledgement of how close Hana had come to uncovering their plan. A second earlier and she would have heard more than he wanted her to.

Logan helped Hana into the wide bed, recognising her veiled terror as she struggled at the fringes of consciousness. “I’ll get you a drink of water,” he whispered, kissing her forehead and pulling her right hand away from its death grip over the scar on her wrist.

Logan passed Tama in the hallway and the younger man indicated the baby’s room with his head and put his left thumb up. Logan narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Thanks.”

Tama returned to the lounge and a mindless documentary about penguins. His hormones raged at the sight of Hana’s slender legs and he tried to block all inappropriate thoughts from his mind. Anka’s face swam in front of his vision, her body supple and athletic. The older woman had become his drug of choice. They both needed more and then more still. Until more was never enough.

One accidental fumble became a full-blown affair, a broken marriage, myriad destroyed friendships and a furious Logan. Anka lost her job at the school and narrowly avoided prosecution for s*x with a student. Tama found himself expelled, but only after he punched Anka’s son. “Trust me to bed Hana’s best friend,” he growled, shifting on the sofa in discomfort. He struggled to banish the image of Anka’s rounded breasts and the way she spoke his name, knowing the difference between love and lust but sensing them blend into one. He touched the hard corners of the phone in his pocket and groaned. “No! Don’t do it,” he warned himself. His fingers fluttered in disobedience, drawing out the device and seeking her name in his contacts. Even reading it on the screen heightened his s****l appetite.

Hearing Logan in the kitchen running cold water into a glass brought Tama to his senses. He’d promised himself a new start with the acquisition of the Du Rose name, knowing Logan hadn’t given it with ease. Tama’s birth certificate still showed, ‘father unknown,’ testament to his unwanted status. “Dude, you’ve got bigger problems than a quick shag,” he reminded himself. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and forced himself to focus on the television, involving himself in the plight of the penguins and calming the loneliness in his soul.

“Lay down, babe.” Back in the bedroom Logan patted his chest and Hana snuggled close, holding onto a clump of his shorts’ fabric like a lifeline. It bunched the garment uncomfortably around his hip, but he put up with it as Hana stilled.

Logan stayed awake until he felt her dive off the cliff into sleep though she seemed fitful and unsettled for hours. He mulled over the difficult meeting taking place while Hana was at church the next day. The tourist sounded keen. Very keen. It pricked Logan’s curiosity.

The crackly voice which spoke his name over the phone had a broad Scots lilt, confirming his identity. Hana’s father. “The car hire company said you found my wallet,” the old man said. “But I haven’t lost it. They gave me this number.” Logan held his nerve during the call, giving very little away. But the Scotsman proved cannier than he gave him credit for. “I’ve found the school logo you wore on your sports shirts. It’s on the internet. I was going to call first thing on Monday morning. I want to see my daughter.”

“Not yet.” Logan considered his options. He needed answers first. “Why is she afraid of you?”

The old man’s gravelly throat cleared as though with an effort. “Can we meet?” he asked. “I need to explain.”

Logan agreed. He recognised Hana’s natural instinct to run, but he’d seen regret in her eyes afterwards. She had questions that burned her soul. He knew because he wrestled with the same ones, desperate to ask Reuben why. Why didn’t you fight for me?

Logan pulled Hana closer, brushing the damp curls away from her face and kissing her forehead. He couldn’t shield her from life but he intended to deflect the blows as best he could.