CHAPTER FOUR
Hana sat at the kitchen table watching through the window as hawks soared above the trees, hunting. They seemed tireless, hovering and waiting. Their delicate, fluttering feathers resembled fingers at the end of their wings as they rode the up draught from the canopy, absurd patience on display. They plunged through the fauna like missiles and didn’t reappear.
Hana’s gaze strayed to a wooden ornament sitting on the windowsill. Bodie plonked it there during the move. The word HOME arched from the wood in calligraphy script. Hana sighed and picked at a knot in the table. “I’m a walking disaster,” she whispered. “What am I doing?”
Her cup of tea cooled as she pondered the error of her ways. Common sense berated her for marrying a man she didn’t know and joining a family which
