Hana Du Rose

CHAPTER ONE-2

“Can I steal you for a moment?” Logan’s eyes twinkled with mischief and Hana read the undertone. He didn’t mean for a moment, but a lifetime. He took Hana’s hand and whisked her away, leading her to a stage beyond the food tables. Hana watched Jas’ head bobbing up and down as he leaned forward to inspect the various offerings. Logan tugged at her fingers.

Hana’s stomach flipped at the foot of the stairs and she took a ragged breath, trying hard not to look at her children. “Logan, please don’t,” she begged. “Not now. I can’t do this.”

“You don’t have to,” Logan replied, turning to face her, his body twisted on the stairs. “I’ll do the talking.” His brow furrowed. “I thought you wanted this.”

Hana blew out through pursed lips, panic in her eyes. “I spent the last eight years explaining everything to my children in advance,” she gasped. “I can’t shock them this way.”

Logan c****d his head, strands of dark fringe flipping into his eyes. “And you did a fantastic job, babe.” He reached out and stroked her cheek. “They’re just fine. Now it’s your turn.” He pulled her up the steps after him, strong fingers cupping her elbow..

“It’s too public,” she hissed, feeling people staring. “It’s cruel.”

Logan shook his head and tugged her towards the centre of the stage. “Life is cruel, wahine. But you’re not. Cruel would be jilting me in my second wedding of the year.” His smile held pain and Hana’s breath caught in her chest.

“We’re getting married again?” she asked, understanding dawning.

Logan nodded and raised his eyebrows. “Yep. Your son-in-law agreed to bless our marriage.”

Hana kept her eyes down, staring at the beautiful parquet floor. Her flailing fingers tugged at the back of Logan’s shirt, but he concentrated hard on getting his words right and ignored her. She suspected he didn’t notice until his other hand reached around to seize hers and hold it in a crushing grip. “I don’t need a weggie thanks,” he whispered with a smile.

Silence filled the room and Hana heard her heartbeat resound in her ears. All faces turned towards her. Only Jas continued his busyness, choosing sandwiches from the buffet and munching on a cracker. Hana inhaled as Logan spoke. “I just learned that Hana’s never had a birthday party,” he said, looking across at Bodie. “And that it’s not her thing.” Hana gasped and Logan squeezed her fingers. “So I’ll dispense with the singing of Happy Birthday on this occasion and cut to the other reason I’ve brought you from your warm homes to a party in the middle of nowhere.” Logan drew in a breath and his voice carried across the room. “A short while ago, I asked Hana to marry me and she said yes.” He smiled and his grey eyes softened. Hana watched her son’s colour heighten and swallowed, anticipating trouble. Her hand sweated against Logan’s.

Marcus stepped up to the stage and the gathered crowd gasped in realisation. Logan fell silent and Hana panicked at the spite in Bodie’s eyes. Marcus took over, his tone steady and cajoling, easing the guests into acceptance. “I’d like you all to find a seat,” he said, resting his hands on Hana and Logan’s shoulders and speaking from between them. “And then I’ll invite you to witness the marriage of Hana Singh Johal and Logan Du Rose.”

Bodie started walking, his heels clicking against the wooden floor. Hana swallowed and saw a hand shoot out to stop him. Alfred Du Rose levered his bent body upright and halted Hana’s son with the look on his face. He leaned close and she saw Bodie pale. “What did he tell him?” she hissed at Logan, her green eyes wild. “What did he say?”

Logan kissed her cheek and put his lips to her ear. His eyes flashed a warning. “He told him he’s too late,” he whispered. “And he is. Nobody else needs to know that.”

Marcus waggled his eyebrows and Hana sighed. “I’m here to bless this marriage in the sight of God,” he began and Hana clung to his words. “Logan’s family are catholic but have graciously allowed me to conduct this service.”

She shot a look sideways at Logan and he smirked. So many things she didn’t know about him.

Hana sought her children’s faces in the crowd, her heart beating an unhealthy rhythm and making her fight for breath. Bodie bent to wipe sauce from Jas’ shirt, his face unreadable. Izzie stared at her with an intentness that freaked Hana out. She wanted to go to her daughter and reassure her, but needed to stay on the stage with her new husband and do the first thing he’d ever asked of her.

Marcus proved his worth as a cleric, engaging the shocked guests in his brand of pantomime. Hana cringed as he delivered a marriage service fit for the record books in terms of speed. “These guys are older than nubile sixteen-year-olds but their commitment to each other is undeniable,” he said, pausing for effect. Hana inspected Logan’s black cowboy boots with interest and felt him squeeze her fingers. “Marriage is for life and I’m convinced they both understand.” Marcus spoke for a short time and Hana focused on her breathing pattern, regulating it so the pain in her chest eased. Marcus’ words brought her back to the moment with a bump. “So, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Logan and Hana, I bless you and pray it’s not too late for babies.”

Logan’s jaw dropped in shock and Hana winced. She daren’t look at her children. “Marcus!” she hissed, watching his lips twist up in a smirk. He fixed a solid hand on her shoulder and pinned her in place. “Hana’s new husband has a few words he wishes to add.” Hana saw her escape route closing and her knees wobbled. She contemplated kicking both men, but figured she’d overbalance and entertain everyone in a way she didn’t want.

Logan grappled in his trouser pocket next to her and Marcus leaned closer. “Stay here a second longer,” he whispered and Hana groaned. “Behave, woman!” he hissed and winked at her.

Logan unfolded a piece of paper, smoothing it out on his thigh. Creased into quarters, the edges looked neat. Hana glanced over his shoulder and saw his precise, left-handed script. Logan began with a welcome and his mihimihi. “Tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā tatou katoa.” Hana listened to her husband’s native language tumble eloquently from his full lips, rolling over her like a soft sheet. The paper fluttered at his side, not needed for the familiar detailing of his heritage. “Ko Tainui te waka,” he said, naming the Tainui as the canoe which carried his forebears. He listed the river and mountain of his lineage, the natural landmarks which made him Logan Du Rose. His words strengthened Hana, those parts of him belonging to her by proxy. He spoke his native tongue to her in bed, lilting soft words, intoxicating and ethereal. As warm water, it soothed and refreshed her. Other times he spoke French, knowing it annoyed her British blood. Hana watched Logan’s mouth move, fighting the urge to reach up and kiss his sensitive lips like she did earlier.

Logan’s grey eyes turned in her direction and Hana jumped and tuned back in. He switched to English and lifted the paper in front of him. His fingers shook and the paper jerked. She wanted to tell him to stop, but couldn’t. “Hana, we met twenty-six years ago on a dirty tube train in the middle of London and I fell in love with you then. I spent many wasted years looking for the beautiful redhead and when I gave up and returned home, there you were.” Logan turned towards her and smiled. “You crawled around the car park on your knees for the contents of your handbag. You lost a lipstick and I lost my heart.” He swallowed and Hana heard the collective titter from the guests. She sensed Bodie’s animosity from across the room and stared at her shoes. “I tried all my best stalker antics to get near you and then one day you just sat next to me.” He turned towards her and lifted their joined hands. “You’ve made me happier than I ever imagined possible.”

Hana daren’t look at any of the faces below the stage as everyone’s eyes fixed on her. Logan’s hand betrayed his nerves, but his voice spoke with confidence into the silence. “I promise to love and cherish you forever, Hana Du Rose.” He turned to face her and his grey eyes conveyed his seriousness. “I want to be the first person you see in the morning and the last one you see at night. For as long as we’re both alive, I want it to be as a married couple. I intend to make up for lost time and enjoy every moment with you. And I promise to tell you every day; you’re beautiful.”

A tear slipped down Hana’s cheek at the unexpected bearing of Logan’s soul. It felt raw and touching and cost him. She saw emotion sparkling in his eyes and gratitude flooded her. She gulped, knowing she couldn’t better his words but wanting to at least match them. “You found me and showed me how much love I still have to give. Thank you for persevering with me.” Hana gave a shy smile. “I know I didn’t make it easy for you.” She bit her lip and heard a snort from Peter North. Henrietta slapped him on the forehead and the sound reverberated around the room. He rubbed it and she whispered her apologies, causing those nearby to smirk.

“I appreciate your love and faith in me. I’ll never let you down, Logan. That’s my promise to you.”

Logan blinked in surprised at Hana’s odd undertaking. But he didn’t yet know how deep the broken fragments of her trust were buried. His palms felt warm against her shoulders as he kissed Hana’s lips, dragging the action out with a sparkle in his eyes. Everyone clapped and Hana sighed with relief. A hint of terror surfaced at the thought of approaching Izzie and Bodie and she forced it back. Marcus read her fear as he moved away and answered her distress call. He took a step back onto the stage and whispered into her ear. “Izzie will be fine. It’s me she’s angry at.” He sighed at Hana’s look of confusion. “Because I knew and didn’t tell her,” he said. “I’ll get the hiding, not you.” He smirked and she watched him take heavy steps down to the dance floor.

Descending from the stage, congratulations swamped the couple and despite their surprise, the guests seemed genuine in their enthusiasm. Izzie punished Marcus by forcing him to carry a heavy, sleeping Elizabeth at the same time as eating his food. Hana watched them from a distance, anxiety distracting her. Bodie kissed Hana’s cheek, his face unreadable. He shook Logan’s hand but the action looked forced. Hana tried to work her son out, failing as always.

Music began in the background and the volume of chatter increased to compensate. Pete monopolised Logan, so Hana moved towards her daughter. Izzie glanced around the room without seeing, twisting her wedding ring in a nervous action. Hana touched her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to shock you, Izz,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.” Her face pinched with fear and she offered her daughter the untouched glass of Baileys in her hand. Izzie refused with a shake of her head. “But it’s your favourite. Are you mad at me?”

Izzie put her head down and covered her face with her hands. Hana’s heart went into free fall. “I’m sorry, Izz. It’s not how I meant it to be. I owe you an explanation. Sweetheart, look at me.”

Izzie sniffed and a tear rolled down her olive cheek, diving into midair as another replaced it. Hana led her to a chair, placing the liqueur on the table between them. “Sit down, Izz,” she said, guilt dulling her green eyes. “It’s all my fault.” Hana had promised herself she wouldn’t apologise for her mammoth life choice, hearing her words condemn her as they tumbled out on an automatic loop.