“Whoa! Bet ya didn’t see that coming,” Logan hissed in her ear as Hana gaped, her jaw dropping in a most unladylike manner. He jabbed her in the ribs and she tensed and galvanised herself to meet the newcomer.
“Hi, I’m Hana, Mark’s sister. Well, cousin actually, but I only discovered that recently.” The colour rushed to Hana’s cheeks in her awkwardness and she heard Logan snort at her verbal diarrhoea. Everything about Mark’s new partner threw her and she didn’t know how to react.
“We’ve talked about it all; don’t worry.” Mark looked pleased with himself and electricity sparked in the air around him as he gave a goofy, love struck grin.
“We’ve met, I believe.” Mac’s specialist shook Hana’s hand and gave her a wink, making her blush to the roots of her hair.
“Yes, we have.” Hana turned, imploring Logan for help. “This is my husband, Mac’s father. Logan, this is the doctor we saw at the hospital.”
Logan gave an upward jerk of his head and accepted the outstretched hand of greeting. Hana held her breath, sneaking a look at Mark. Her brother chewed his lower lip with nervousness and his eyes darted from Hana to his boyfriend and back again. She saw a world of agony in the seconds during which the mask slipped and he revealed his vulnerability. Catching her looking, he fixed a smile of bravado on his face and faked joviality. “I’ll make us some drinks,” he chorused. “What does everyone want?”
“Water please,” Logan said and while Hana floundered, “she’d like tea.”
“Okay, okay!” Mark clapped his hands together and gestured towards his companion. “Could you help me a moment, Dean?”
“Yeah, sure.” The handsome doctor turned and followed Mark into the hallway and she heard their footsteps going into the next room.
“Bloody hell!” Logan hissed. “He’s gay!”
“I kinda worked that out,” Hana said. “I’m so confused. He said he met someone at the hotel and they worked at Auckland hospital but were transferring to the Waikato. I swear he said it was a woman!” She cast her mind back but came up empty. “Actually I think I assumed it was a woman. When I met him at the hospital, I knew I’d seen him before. Remember that night we went to Alex’s restaurant and we saw a group of men from the conference, that’s where I saw him.” She cringed at the memory of her bathroom crazy moment. “Great, now he’s seen me crying my eyes out twice. How do I handle this?” The colour drained from her face. “Oh my goodness! My father will go crazy!”
Logan shook his head and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I think you’d be surprised how accepting older people can be.” His lips quirked upwards in a smirk. “I’m glad it’s your family and not mine; damned if I’d know what to say.”
“Thanks for that. Not helpful.” Hana chewed on her lip. “When I think about Mark’s history and all his problems, it kinda makes sense. What if that’s why he’s spent his life searching and making mistakes? Because he wore a persona which didn’t fit him?”
Logan shrugged and sat on the leather sofa. “I don’t know, Hana. I grew up in a whānau which didn’t tolerate difference. I have no blueprint for this; sorry.”
Hana rolled her eyes and sat next to him. “I need time to think and accept this. It feels awkward drinking tea and chatting about the weather.”
“You can’t leave. He’ll assume you’re judging him. You’ve got a great relationship after twenty-six years of nothing, so don’t sacrifice that.”
Hana nodded. “You’re right. He might not be my brother but I do love him.”
“Then what else matters?” Logan ran his fingers across her thigh and leaned his head back against the seat. His eyes closed and Hana watched as his mind switched to another location, dealing with farm issues and costing solutions in his head.
“I can’t believe you just said that.”
“What?” Logan opened one eye and squinted at her. “That only love matters? Yeah, I can’t believe I said it either.”
Mark walked into the room as Hana slapped Logan’s stomach and her husband grunted in mock pain. “Beating my brother-in-law up again, are you?” Mark said with a smile in his voice. “It never ends does it, Logan?”
Logan sat up and accepted the ice water from Mark’s tray. “Nope.” He winked at Hana. “But it’s better than being on my own. Sometimes,” he added, drawing a hiss of indignation from Hana and a laugh from Mark.
Dean put his head around the door frame and gave a wave to the room in general. “I’ll leave you to chat. I need a shower anyway.” His head disappeared and Hana felt relief at his tact.
“I love what you two have,” Mark said, his expression sobering as he looked from Hana to Logan. “I never dreamed I’d be capable of loving someone to that extent, but I’m beginning to believe I am.”
Logan squirmed in discomfort, receding inside himself and concentrating on his water. His scarred index finger traced a line around the rim of the glass. Hana’s giggle brought him out of it with a jolt. “You’re talking to a Du Rose,” she said to Mark. “Du Roses don’t talk feelings or emotions. They just hit things and it somehow makes them feel better.”
Mark’s brow narrowed. “Yes, like that poor young man up at the farm.”
Confusion reigned in Hana’s expression. “What poor young man? What farm?”
“Your place.” Mark shifted in his seat. “I think he said his name was Archer, but he cried so hard it made him difficult to understand. After he shared so much of himself it seemed impolite to ask his name again.”
“Asher?” Hana peered at her brother over her mug and felt Logan sit up straighter next to her. “What about him?”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t interfere.” Mark shook his head and busied himself with pouring tea and stirring in far too much sugar for a practicing doctor. “You’ve taken my news so well that I thought...it doesn’t matter; forget I spoke.”
“I can’t.” Logan’s tone sounded acerbic and Hana watched the dangerous tick begin in the vein in his neck. “Finish it, now you’ve started.”
Mark writhed in discomfort. “He’s a homosexual. The poor boy’s lost, Hana.” He appealed to her gentler nature and avoided the rolling storm in Logan’s grey eyes. “He’s convinced his family will disown him and he’s angry; so angry.” Mark ran his fingers over his chin. “Just like I used to be.”
Hana watched the stiffness of Logan’s body as he processed the news. His face darkened and closed and she sighed as the portcullis crashed down over his feelings, freezing her out. She hoped it would be temporary and not rob her of their recent closeness. As Logan remained silent and the awkwardness grew, Hana floundered.
“Will you speak to him?” Mark asked and Hana cringed.
“I don’t know, Mark.”
He looked disappointed. “If you do, give him my best regards and let him know I had his best interests at heart. No malice intended.”
“It’s fine.” Hana shook her head and brushed it off. “Asher attacked me at the house a few days ago; he’s not welcome at the moment.” She chewed her lip, the reason for his anger and hatred of the family laid bare. Reaching inside herself, Hana found a thread of compassion for him and tried to nurture it. “If I see him, I’ll tell him.”
They parted at the door on good terms and Mark stroked Hana’s cheek, his eyebrow raised in question. “You’ll tell me the story of this another time?” he asked and peered at her sore eye.
“For sure. How about coffee? Text me?” She understood his question reached further than the bruises and scratches on her body; seeking acceptance like a drowning man. Her willingness to meet with him pushed confidence into his expression and his hands shook with relief.
“I will, I promise.” Mark let her go. “Am I still Aasshole in your contacts’ list?”
Hana grinned and followed Logan’s retreating back. “Not telling.” She watched her husband open the passenger door for her and climbed onto the rail, waving to Mark over Logan’s shoulder. Her husband slammed the door and gunned the engine, backing out onto Hammond Street and not waiting for the automatic gates to slide closed before driving away. Hana glanced at him sideways and bit her lip. Marriage to a Du Rose taught her not to press for confidences while Logan still felt raw. Instead she watched through the window as Hamilton drifted by, the industrial metropolis giving way to green paddocks and dairy herds.
She leaned her head back against the head rest and closed her eyes, auditing her various injuries and declaring herself sound. Despite that fact she craved the peace of the mountain, the solitude of the museum she built from the remnants of Du Rose history and the raw reliance on the earth which came with farming the craggy landscape. “How long till we go home?” she asked, turning her head to meet Logan’s tortured eyes.
He relaxed, thoughts turning to his legacy and dispelling disappointment and fear. “Nine weeks, four days, twelve hours, ten minutes and about fifty seconds.” he replied with a sad smile. “And it can’t come soon enough.”