The rain eased off mid-morning and Mark drove Hana and Phoenix up to the memorial site in Jack’s old red Jeep. “It’s not fair,” Hana moaned for the tenth time. “How long do I have to wait until I can drive again?”
“Until you’ve been checked out by your specialist and he’s happy with your progress,” Mark replied patiently. “And I’m not saying it again!”
“What if my specialist turns out to be a woman? You said, ‘he’ so what if it’s a woman?”
“It won’t be,” Mark’s patience began to fray. “Most of the cardio surgeons in this region are men.”
“Well, that’s just sexist,” Hana complained and Mark raised his eyes to a crack in the top of the windscreen, glad the journey was almost over.
The new driveway forked a few kilometres in and went off left to Logan’s new house at the top of the mountain, but Hana instructed Mark to keep going round to the right. The developers had swept the driveway around the back of what had been Reuben’s old house, taking it further up the mountain to the area of land where they intended to put their houses. Interestingly, Reuben only ever gave them right of access through his property and hadn’t sold the driveway to them as a titled section. “I feel sure Reuben knew what he was doing,” Hana mused. “I think it was always his intention to pull the plug on the development at some point and leave them high and dry.”
“Why?” Mark asked.
“The developers were so desperate to get their hands on the land, they were sloppy in their checks and ignored the usual investigations. They handed large amounts of deposit money to the wily old man, probably in cash from what I’ve heard about Reuben Du Rose. Nobody knows where that money went. Logan’s land wasn’t Reuben’s to sell and although the developers didn’t hold complete title, they forged ahead, putting in the road and doing other earthworks. Logan got wind of it last year and the developers panicked as the whole thing tumbled down like a pack of cards in the legal system.”
“But can’t they sue Reuben’s estate for fraud or something?” Mark put the handbrake on, feeling the vehicle slump backwards against the slope.
“They’ve tried, but there’s no proof they paid Reuben anything. You’d think they’d know better, wouldn’t you?”
“So what was it all about?” Mark asked, confused.
“Logan,” Hana replied simply. “They denied Reuben his son for forty years and he’d had enough. They wouldn’t let him near Logan and Reuben promised his mother faithfully he wouldn’t tell him the secret. That promise bound him. So he hatched this elaborate plan to get Logan’s attention. He stole the land and knew Logan would come after it. But he didn’t expect Logan to do it legally. He imagined some great showdown, or that someone would crack and tell Logan the truth. Nobody did. Logan sent in the lawyers and ruined his own father. It was a mess.”
“Do they think the fire was deliberate?” Mark’s voice was low and sad.
“The fire investigators said not. It was some dodgy Christmas tree lights which shorted out and the wiring was old and coated in that flammable rubber stuff. It just seems like a dreadful coincidence. But when Logan’s mother ran into that fire, she knew exactly what she was doing.” Hana shivered. “We shouldn’t have come here. Their deaths still hang over this place like a vibe of senselessness.
“We’ll be fine.” Mark’s fingers snaked through Hana’s tenderly, securing her in the company of the living. “How has it all been left now? Is Logan still fighting the developers?”
Hana shook her head. “No. They were stung for an out-of-court-settlement, paid to Logan for damage to his property, removal of fencing, acquisition of planning permission on land not belonging to them and lots of other stuff.” She sighed, “The worst part and the most heart-breaking are all the families who paid deposits on flash mountain villas. We had lots of visits right after the funeral, these angry businessmen turning up to challenge Logan. They held him personally responsible for devastating their dreams and most of them haven’t got their deposits back. Logan had to take an injunction out against one guy.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Logan was teaching a Year 12 English class at the time and wasn’t best pleased by all the frantic calls to his mobile about a madman wreaking havoc up here. The hotel staff called the cops and apparently it was a real sideshow outside the dining room windows.”
“I think you need to watch your stress levels at the moment.” Mark squeezed his sister’s fingers. “Maybe cut back on the sex a bit while your heart settles down too. They did a fair bit of work in that operation.”
Hana was indignant. “I might not be having sex! You don’t know what I’m doing.” Her pretty porcelain face flushed pink.
Mark laughed. “Then tell that stud of a husband to stop giving you love-bites on your neck and I’ll stop worrying about your blood pressure.”
Hana bit her lip and looked out of the side window, a smirk fleeting across her face. She moved so she could see her neck in the cracked wing mirror. The red mark peeked out of her sweatshirt like an accusation. “Oh that. That’s not a...” Mark was already laughing and he gave her a pointed look. Hana conceded. “Logan was upset and I just...”
Mark raised his hand. “I don’t particularly want details, thanks, interesting as I’m sure they are. If that was him upset, I’d hate to see what he does when he’s pleased. Just go steady and whatever you do, don’t get pregnant!”
Hana got the pram out of the boot and slotted the baby into it with a frown. Pregnant! I’m a granny for goodness sake! Phoenix was wide awake and happy, enjoying being swaddled in her blankets and able to look up at the huge sky. Loud bird noise high up in the canopy made Phoenix turn her head to see the maker of it. She caught sight of a flicker of movement in one of the tall kauri trees on the boundary between Reuben’s old place and Logan’s and squealed with delight. Hana looked up and saw the tui, smiling to herself at its continual presence around her and the baby. “Tui,” she told her daughter. “He was up at daddy’s new house yesterday.” It hadn’t disturbed her but she knew it was there, watching. It was with her when Phoenix was born, calling and cackling as she struggled to birth her baby. A New Zealand native, the tui grew rarer with each encroachment on the bush, but this one was safe, for now. Its black body glistened in the white of the sky, making its feathers appear shot with electric blue and it wore its fluffy white bib at its throat with pride. Hana whistled to the tui and it cocked its head and fixed her with one beady black eye. Phoenix squawked and did her funny little wrist wave from the pram, delighted when it mimicked her call.
As Mark walked around examining the site, Hana remembered the visit with her father, missing him with a familiar ache. He had blessed the site with oil, driving off the spirit of death and catastrophe and bringing his and Hana’s God into the miserable place. He also blessed Hana, anointing her, ironically a few hours before her heart attack. She tried hard not to think about the sincerity on his face and the seriousness with which he approached his task and the fact it was God’s favour which saved her.
“What’s this?” Mark asked, indicating a pole, hammered into the ground on one corner of the site. Hana pushed the pram over to look. It was a tree branch, white like bone where the bark was stripped bare. Wording graced its surface, burned there by some kind of hot iron before the whole thing was plunged into the ground. It felt immovable when Hana touched it. She stroked the wood gently with her finger, tracing the Māori words and then she stepped back suddenly, causing Mark to jump. “What? What’s the matter?”
“It’s a pou rāhui,” Hana said, moving away. She shooed him back, pushing the pram to one side but staying close enough to read the words. “It declares a rāhui over an area, making it tapu – sacred. Sometimes Māori will do it for a recent death or to conserve something precious. It’s a prohibited area. Reuben and Miriam died months ago now and this looks new. I don’t know what it means but Logan knew we were coming here and didn’t mention we shouldn’t. It’s been placed here by someone who has mana or standing within the Māori community. The only person who could do it would be Logan himself or a kaumātua and the local man came at the time of the fire. He was lovely actually.” Hana thought back to the knowing in the man’s face as she hid her labour pains from everyone else.
“What do the words say?” Mark asked curiously, pushing a pair of wire glasses onto his nose from a case in his pocket. Hana read the words haltingly, having to follow the carving as it wound its way around the pole, her voice stumbling as she struggled to make the words sound like they should.
“E kore hoki te tokotoko a te whakaarokore e waiho tonu i runga i te wahi o te hunga tika: kei totoro te ringa o te hunga tika ki te kino.” She turned to look at Mark’s baffled face, realisation dawning on her. “It’s Psalm 125 verse 3.”
“How do you know?” he asked her, clearly impressed. Hana pointed to where it was written, to where the last word wound its way around. She recited it for him from memory in English, the Sunday school lessons of her youth seemingly paying off.
“The sceptre of the wicked will not remain over the land allotted to the righteous, for then the righteous might use their hands to do evil.”
Mark looked at her curiously. “Is your husband a Christian?”
“I sometimes wonder,” Hana mused quietly as she recalled the rest of the scripture out loud. “As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people, from this time forth and forevermore.”
Mark walked around the rahui pole carefully, taking in the beautiful italic carving on its surface, wondering who produced such a wonderful object with their hands. They moved on towards the area marked out for the maze. Elaine and Robert designed it on paper and then supervised the physical roping out, during the hours when Hana needed to sleep after the operation. She knew what they were doing during their absence, but actually seeing what they produced with their dedicated hands made her chest feel tight.
“So this is what they were doing,” Mark said amused. “I worried about them feeling abandoned when I was called back to work the day after you got out of hospital. Plainly they were having a ball up here in the mountains.”
Hana nodded, feeling choked as she pushed the pram around the site. Over in one corner was a huge collection of leylandii trees, tiny little things intended for use as the maze walls. They would be quick growing, although Logan conceded someone would have to be employed to trim them regularly to stop them getting overgrown and out of hand, especially in the New Zealand bush where everything grew like wild fire. “Why were you called back?” Hana asked, trying to distract herself from the threatening sadness of thinking about Robert’s shaking hands, laying out string and hammering in small stakes. All for her.
“Singh broke his leg,” Mark said calmly, poking around in the small trees.
“Oh no!” Hana said, genuinely upset for the kind Sikh doctor who removed Logan’s spleen the previous year, after a cowardly attack from behind with a crow bar.
“Sorry, I forgot you knew him. He was skiing with his family and had to be airlifted off Ruapehu. I don’t think he’s a particularly good patient. Ironically there aren’t many doctors who are!”
Hana looked into the pram where Phoenix sucked heartily on her thumb, her eyes drooping gently. It must be so wonderful to be able to lie down all warm and snuggly, with a full belly, a clean bottom and enjoy the motion of being pushed around. Not a care in the world.
“This child sleeps a lot,” Hana remarked to her brother. He came and peered into the pram at the bobble-hatted head and the healthy flushed cheeks.
“She’s having a growth spurt probably. She certainly eats like a horse! Also the mountain air must be so refreshing, a bit like the English going to the seaside for a constitutional.” He went back to poking around in the pots of conifers, popping his head up to ask, “Hey, I don’t suppose you fancy doing a spot of planting with me, do you? I feel like I need to be busy.”
Hana looked at the site. “It’s already marked out,” she mused. Small threads were placed along the string at even distances, presumably denoting where individual plants should go. Logan was so precise and ordered. “Logan probably agonised over the distances.” Hana imagined her husband with a ruler, measuring out the gaps and starting again if he wasn’t entirely convinced it was perfect. She sniggered. “I’m not sure.” She sounded doubtful. “What if we do it wrong and Loge has a fit and rips it all up again?”
“Would he?” Mark asked fearfully, his brow knitting and making him look older.
Hana shrugged. “He doesn’t tend to overreact like that actually,” she conceded. “He’d come back up here and start from scratch and do it all again without telling anyone.”
“Is he compulsive?” the doctor asked.
“Very.” Hana admitted, “But bizarrely it’s one of the things I love about him. I suspect he gets more frustrated with me than I do with him. He never leaves his stuff lying around, the house is always spotless and he does everything properly. You’d think it caused problems with doing things quickly, but he’s expert at thinking on his feet and following through.”
“You make him sound like he’s perfect,” Mark said and Hana smiled, her face taking on the serenity of one who is loved and loves in return.
“He is.” Hana creased her brow as Mark dropped his gaze, looking piqued and she relented, regretting his loneliness. “Come on then, let’s give it a go.”
Hana put the brake securely on the pram and pulled the blankets up around her sleeping baby. Then she and her brother started work, fetching the little trees from the stack and lining them up where they were supposed to go. While Hana did the fetching, Mark started digging little holes with a trowel he found amongst a stack of tools. He popped the plants from their plastic pots and sank them neatly into the loamy soil. Hana found bags of compost stacked up behind the plants and dragged one of them over to her brother. They had fun trying to open the hefty plastic bag with their fingers, laughing and giggling at their failed effort as Mark pulled at a tiny opening and ended up sitting on his rear end in the dirt. “Ah, car key,” Mark smirked, pleased with his clever idea. He stabbed Jack’s Jeep key through the plastic to make a tear big enough to get the trowel in.
“No wonder you messed my wrist up,” Hana teased. “I bet you did surgery with a rusty craft knife and a car key.”
Mark snorted and dished out a scoop of the dry compost to each of the trees he had planted. “Yep. That must be why.” He grunted with the effort of moving the bag along. “I kinda had my money on it being the embroidery thread I found to stitch you up.”
Hana felt invigorated by the creative activity, although she pushed her luck one time too many as she pulled the heavy bag along the ground in an attempt to help Mark. It caused her chest to tug and feel uncomfortable, the sudden reminder of the pacemaker an unwelcome jolt back to reality. She sat down for a moment on the ground, catching her breath and pretending to admire the first line of tiny trees. Mark looked at her in alarm as Hana’s breath contained an unhealthy catch. “Oh no,” she puffed. “What if they were doing different coloured ones in between or something? We’ve probably mucked everything up!”
“What?” Mark stood up and the head fell off the trowel, landing with a dull thunk on the baked earth.
Hana lay back on in the dirt and snorted with laughter. “Gosh, your face was funny then. Imagine it though. We’ll spend the rest of our lives hiding photos of the maze from Dad and Elaine so they’re not offended. And I’ll spend the next thirty years shadowing my husband to stop him coming up to look!” She shrieked with laughter, made all the more incongruous by the fact it wasn’t funny, but Mark’s face descended into a festival of grumpiness. He observed Hana with a scientist’s calculated stare, eventually conceding a dainty giggle and wiping his dirty hands on his jumper.
His lips curled up in a smile on one side. “You nearly had me there. There are no other colours, you idiot!”
Hana grinned and squinted up at the sky, watching the clouds hurry over the mountain. Her hair splayed out behind her in a vibrant red carpet and her brother seemed uncharacteristically agitated as he sat down next to her. “Hana” he said, abruptly serious. The moment of hilarity died in an instant. She sighed. She had an idea what was coming and wasn’t sure she wanted the moment ruined. “How would you feel if I asked your friend, Anka out?”
Hana exhaled slowly, not sure how to answer. “You only met her once,” she said, hearing the whine in her voice. “How could you be thinking along those lines already?” She grimaced at the memory of the shared coffee and the obvious attraction Mark harboured for Hana’s dangerous friend.
“I don’t know,” he replied with honesty. “I felt a connection and wondered if it would be ok if I pursued it.”
“I can’t stop you,” Hana said and her voice sounded frail and disconnected. “You do what you like.”
“But I’m not going to, not without your blessing.” Mark’s eyes fixed on Hana’s face, demanding an answer with the intensity of his emerald gaze.
“Fine!” she said crossly, feeling under immense pressure. “But be careful.”
Mark cocked his head at her, curious, asking ‘why’ with his eyes. But Hana pursed her lips. “If Anka wants to tell you her story then that’s up to her. I’m not going to betray her, but I need you to know you can’t bring her around Logan. They don’t get on and for good reasons, so please don’t meddle with that. I’m friends with her again but I respect my husband’s feelings and I don’t mix my marriage with that particular friendship. Anka and my family have to be kept separate, especially her and Ta…”
Hana had already said too much. You can’t forgive someone, she chided herself, and then beat them over the head with something they’ve apologised for. That wasn’t forgiveness at all. Anka apologised for her affair with Tama and consequently lost her marriage, her job and her children over it. But Mark’s revelation stood to complicate matters horribly.
Hana sat up, dirt and leaves in her hair, brushing away the feeling of foreboding as she reacted to the veiled smell of lingering charcoal. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Her voice sounded strained and Mark’s eyes narrowed with guilt.
“Do you not feel well?” He studied her like a laboratory specimen, half interest, half concern.
“Just tired.” The sound of a familiar snort on the breeze interrupted, making Hana look up towards the high bank between the two properties. She tried not to allow the vision of her pregnant-self to impede on her present consciousness but it was pointless. The image of her cut fingers hauling herself up the bank, scrambling awkwardly up its slippery surface, cut a sorry figure in her waking nightmares. Even though Robert blessed the bank and Logan’s rahui pole declared spiritual wholeness, the memory of that dreadful night still encroached on Hana’s sensibility as a ghoulish roll of film in the back of her inner vision.
Hana shaded her eyes with her forearm as Mark resumed his digging, knees bent and back arched. A horseman sat high up on the bank, his face in shadow from the brim of his hat. His body was strong and tensed on the majestic white mare as he watched the scene below. Hana ached for the feel of his strong arms around her and she wanted to cry out for him to come to her. All the bending and stretching made her feel exhausted, as though her energy had been slowly robbed through the back of her head without her noticing. She tried to get up, having a couple of attempts before succeeding. Standing unnoticed by her brother, she reached with her arms outstretched towards the horseman, like a desperate child begging to be cradled. She willed him to know and understand.
With a bounce and a spring, the silhouette turned towards the steep bank, plunging down it with force, bringing soil and weeds after in its wake. The noise was like the beginning of an avalanche and caused Mark to turn from his work in fear. Sacha crashed into the area, tossing her head and hurrying forward, her huge dinner plate hooves dancing on the charred ground and her beautiful mane flowing as her tack clinked and jangled.
Logan dismounted with a thud and was next to Hana, lifting her up around the waist and letting her wind her arms around his neck. Her sore shoulder felt tight and under pressure but she held on for as long as she could. Mark shook his head perplexed and eyed the dappled-white beast with the wild eyes nervously, the trowel still guiltily in his hand and the head of it held on by his thumb and forefinger. Logan set Hana down and turned to admire their work, keeping an arm around her shoulders, the fingers massaging her arm through her shirt.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Mark said with uncharacteristic awkwardness. Hana cocked her head as he resembled the sixteen-year-old brother she remembered, uncertain of himself and uncomfortable with his own body. She looked up to him as a little girl and worshiped him like an idol, hanging off his every word and loving him despite his obvious animosity towards her, the irritating sister he never wanted. Hana’s damaged heart softened towards him, seeing the conflict and loneliness in his eyes and the desperate need for acceptance. He wanted to be loved just like everyone else; the great Dr Mark McIntyre was flawed.
“No, it needed doing. Good on ya.” Logan held Hana’s hand while Sacha snuffed in the grass at the edges of the plateau where Reuben once grew vegetables. He walked down the line of planting, seeming relieved they obeyed the neatly tied threads. “It’s going to be beautiful when it’s all grown into a maze. Very fitting for Mum and...him. You’ve done well,” Logan concluded, running his hand over his face. One wonky conifer offended his eye and he chose to ignore its imperfect placement, knowing realistically over time they would bend and twist under an unseen hand, individual and at the same time uniform; a bit like the schoolboys, he taught. Logan held onto Hana’s hand, enjoying her dependence on him.
“How will we water up?” Mark asked, brushing his hands down his trousers and looking around him.
“We’re putting a rainwater tank up here tomorrow when the guys are back at the building site. It makes sense if we’re planting stuff. I shouldn’t worry about these though.” Logan indicated the deep green plants with his outstretched hand. “They grow like weeds so they’ll be fine for today. The rain is on its way in from the west.”
Mark looked up at the sky, attempting to see what the stockman saw. “It looks no different from an hour ago.”
Logan smiled as the other man raked the clouds with his eyes and waved his arm towards the mountain. “It’s coming in from the west - off the Tasman. It’ll be here in a short while. We should be getting back.”
Mark shook his head and Hana smirked at her brother’s disbelief, biting her lip in amusement at his expense. Logan helped them put the tools away, treading down the soil around the planting with the sole of his cowboy boot. He took the carrycot off the pram and collapsed the frame easily with his strong hands while Hana went to stroke the white mare and feed her long grass from the verge. The mare greeted her with eagerness and it pleased Hana. “Hey girl,” she kissed the furry, rounded nose and Sacha sighed a heavy, wet gust of air.
Mark lifted the pram frame back into the boot of the Jeep, feeling inferior next to the capable younger man as Logan effortlessly fitted the carrycot containing his sleeping daughter onto the back seat, securing the seatbelt around it. Mark climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “See you back at the bottom,” he said with gruffness.
Logan put his hands on his wife’s waist and leaned in for a kiss, pushing his hat back on his head. His lips were tender and soft and it left Hana feeling ragged and frustrated. “Tease,” she rebuked him. Logan’s smile and narrowed eyes made her stomach flip. “You’re making Mark jealous,” she whispered. “I don’t think he likes how perfect you are.”
Logan snorted. “Hardly.”
“Well, you are to me,” Hana breathed into his ear. Logan slapped her bum and pushed her towards the Jeep.
“You can thank me later,” he smirked at her retreating back. He smiled and waved as they circled the flattened area and made their way down the steep hill. Reuben’s old overgrown driveway, which impeded the volunteer fire brigade’s access during the inferno, had been cleared and widened. The burnt out shell of the charred house was later removed by diggers and hauliers. Logan shivered and ran his hand through his dark hair. As Hana looked back, she saw Sacha’s head shoot up in answer to Logan’s low whistle and set off obediently towards him.
Mark was quiet on the way down the hill, negotiating the difficult terrain with his glasses perched on the end of his nose. Finally, he spoke. “He’s very imposing, your husband.”
“Yes,” Hana said simply.
“Weren’t you terrified of him when you first met?” Mark asked, deeply curious, trying to comprehend the dynamic of this unusually matched couple. Hana shook her head.
“He was never like that with me. He was quiet and awkward and seemed nervous. I had no idea within the confines of our school-world, that he was anything like the powerful man he is. I fell in love with the head of the English department, although he’s always had this powerful aura around him. Māori call it mana. We’d been married for ages before I found out how financially solvent he was, or that he owned this place outright. I’ll always see him as the gentle, unassuming man first and foremost, that little boy on the train who watched me so intently while I sobbed into his mother’s hanky. But when I need him to be, he’s this giant who shelters and takes care of me and Phoe.”
“Do you think he’s the ideal man?” Mark asked.
Hana looked at her brother, surprised. “Why do you ask that?”
“I guess I need a role model,” Mark smiled.
“You can’t really be a ‘Logan’,” Hana mused sagely, “because then you would need a ‘Hana.’ And fortunately for the rest of mankind, there is only one of me.”
Mark laughed and the jovial mood returned, lasting until they reached the stables and thanked Jack for the use of his vehicle.
Mark left after breakfast on Monday, travelling back to Hamilton for his afternoon shift on general surgery. Hana wondered how he coped, never knowing what would greet him when he arrived at work each day but he assured her he loved it and was good at it. He hugged Hana tightly. “I love you, little sister,” he whispered. “Let’s catch up again soon.”
“Yeah, I’d like that,” she replied into his shirt, hoping he took her warning about bringing Anka near Logan, to heart.
Mark and Logan shook hands, their relationship soothed and strengthened by the visit and Hana’s brother even sought out Alfred, to make his farewells. Phoenix did her cute little wrist wave from her position on her daddy’s hip and then Mark was gone, his vehicle straining up the tarmac driveway towards the main road. Logan watched Hana carefully as she waved woodenly until long after her brother was gone, her face worryingly devoid of emotion.
Determined to distract her, he hoisted Phoenix further up his hip and took his wife’s arm, leading her away from the car park towards the motel units along a pretty, tree-lined lane. “I spoke to Izzie this morning when you were in the shower,” he said, keeping his voice devoid of emotion. “You can call her later if you like. She was nipping out to do the food shop but she’d love to hear from you. She’s been ringing your mobile. You should turn it back on, Han.”
“What did you tell her?” Hana asked, her voice low and her shoulders stiffening under Logan’s palm.
“Nothing,” Logan replied. “You need to tell them yourself. It’s not my place. But they’re going to be really hacked off when they find out that they were the last to know their mother had heart surgery.”
Hana ran her hands through her hair, clearly distressed. “I don’t know what to say to them,” she groaned. “I almost wish they’d found out at the time, I’ve left it too long now.”
Logan pulled her into him, smiling as Phoenix reached over and stroked her mother’s cheek and burbled something unintelligible. Hana kissed her hand and the baby squeezed her eyes shut and put her head on one side. “I’m sorry,” Logan said with honesty. “It never occurred to me to get in touch with your kids until it was too late. I felt like I was treading water, but I can see how it’ll be received now. They’ll think I deliberately kept them in the dark.”
Hana sighed and tried not to think about the gathering storm. Logan strolled down the lane and Hana kept pace, wondering where they were going. They walked until the motel units were in sight and Logan stepped confidently onto the deck and knocked on the ranch slider of the one furthest away. It was the most spacious in the row, a three bedroomed unit with a small kitchenette, an open plan lounge area and a sofa which converted into an extra bed. Hana remembered it well from her renovation work over the summer. She felt a budding flash of nerves and hung back. “Isn’t this Nev’s unit?” Hana’s voice wavered.
“Yeah, the insurance company pays the bills,” Logan said quietly. “I’m just amazed Reuben had insurance. It’s not like he bothered with anything else!”
A man in his late teens opened the door and stared at the family on the deck. His handsome face degenerated into a nasty snarl, full lips pulled back from perfect teeth with overt hostility. It didn’t take a genealogist to see t he was pure Du Rose, right from the towering height to the olive complexion and dark wavy hair. He possessed the distinctive grey eyes, which right then were black as coals and displayed open annoyance. They all stood looking at each other in a charged gridlock.
“Who is it, Asher?” came a man’s voice, and the teenager turned to someone inside.
“It’s him!”
Nev was at the door in seconds, cuffing the young man around the head and pushing him out of the way as he apologised profusely. He glared at his offspring angrily, their grey eyes locked in battle. “Come in, come in,” Nev said with polite embarrassment, his olive skin flushing a rosy pink. Hana noted that in the battle of wills, the young man looked away first.
Nev offered them both a drink, which Logan declined but out of English politeness, Hana felt compelled to ask for something. “Just a glass of water, please,” she said, including a smile with her reply. She regretted it instantly as the young man was dispatched. Hana waited, trying to disguise her discomfort as she heard Asher running water in the kitchen. He presented the drink to her without care, slopping it roughly on purpose. Hana prayed he hadn’t spat in it by the sink. As she took a tiny sip, she was relieved to discover it tasted of the mountain spring just like it always did.
Logan kept a tight hold on his daughter as they all sat down. Asher remained standing, leaned against the archway through to the kitchenette. Phoenix looked around with curiosity, taking in every detail of her surroundings, pointing at something known only to her up near the ceiling and babbling quietly to herself. Periodically she beamed at Nev, making him look and feel unnerved and awkward. “She’s very like the old lady, aye,” Nev said wistfully, indicating the baby with his head. Logan nodded once. Hana wondered if he meant Logan’s mother or their paternal grandmother, Phoenix Du Rose.
Nev sat back in his chair and opened his hands, palm outwards, silently inviting Logan to make his proposal. Asher in the corner tensed visibly as he anticipated the reason for the visit, which was clearly not a social call.
“You spoke to my business partner about selling your section of the mountain. I’m guessing the property has already been valued by the developers?” Logan asked and Nev nodded. “Depending on how badly they want it, I may not be able to equal or better their offer because they’ll inflate it to get you interested, but I am prepared to get some fair valuations and work to those.”
Hana’s brow creased as she wondered silently why Nev talked to her if he’d already spoken to Logan’s business partner. Perhaps he hadn’t gotten a suitable reply and come searching for answers. Logan’s half-brother let out a huge sigh of relief and nodded with enthusiasm.
“No bloody way!” The young man over by the door held his stance, balling his fists and blurting, “If you can’t beat the price the developers have offered, you can go screw yourself!”
Hana’s hand shook at his sudden outburst and the water slopped over her wrist and onto the tiled floor. Phoenix jumped and then laughed as though it was a game and her mother mopped at the mess with the edge of her cardigan, feeling embarrassed. Logan’s body stiffened and he eyed the young man, newly promoted from distant cousin to nephew, with a steely gaze that seemed to go on forever. Asher looked increasingly uncomfortable as though the look was torture, but he held his ground through some primal sense of ego. “Perhaps,” Logan said acidly, without removing his grey eyes from Asher’s face, “you should go out to play and let the adults talk business.”
Asher’s jaw tensed and he rose up on the balls of his feet, like me might lurch towards Logan. Hana grew afraid for the little girl sat defencelessly on her husband’s knee and half rose, ready to throw what was left of the water at the young man. The effort of sitting on the edge of her seat made Hana’s thighs hurt and the stitches in her chest ached from the tautness being communicated from the rest of her body. Logan’s eyes flashed a warning at the young man which he received and understood, but it was Nev who took charge of the unfolding situation. “Just bugger off, Ash,” he said to his son and the young man bridled in anger. “I mean it!” his father said and Asher sloped out of the ranch slider, banging it closed behind him. “Sorry,” Nev said with feeling, looking directly at Hana. “He doesn’t want me to sell. None of my family do.” He sighed with a heaviness laced by a sense of failure.
“What will you do, once you’ve?” Logan asked and there was compassion in his voice as his mind took him back to the agony of his own thoughts of quitting, the memories and burden of it all.
“I honestly don’t know,” Nev replied and sat forward, putting his head in his hands. Hana felt deep pity for him. Phoenix sucked her thumb noisily and it was the only sound in the room for a few minutes until Logan spoke again.
“I wouldn’t blame you for selling to the developers. I’m not selling, no matter what they might think, but my circumstances are less precarious. I own all this outright, apart from that section near the road, but you have the rest of…” Logan paused, unable to mention Reuben’s name. “You have his side of the family wanting to carve your land up and take a chunk each. What I’m proposing is that you sell to me for a price we both agree is fair, but stay on and run the land as a going concern. I’d like to stay on as my manager.” Nev’s head shot up and he looked at Logan in disbelief, his grey eyes widening. Logan continued, “I wouldn’t run it the same way as before though, so you’d need to be prepared to accept some changes. I’ll want to do it my way, but that’s a given. It’s a decision you’ll have to make anyway; sell to the developers, carve up the money between the family members and go elsewhere or sell to me and stay on. Get Kane and the others off your back with whatever I pay for the land and live in the new house you’ve built at the bottom of the mountain, as my tenant manager.”
Neville looked utterly poleaxed and shock caused his tongue to stick to the roof of his dry mouth, rendering him speechless. His lips moved furiously but nothing came out. Logan stood up, hoisting Phoenix onto his hip while he offered his hand to Hana, to help her up. She looked around frantically for somewhere to put the glass, in the end leaving it on the floor by her chair and hoping Nev’s little son, Wiremu, didn’t hurt himself on it. Phoenix made a new popping noise with her mouth, sounding like little wet kisses as Hana made her way to the door. “Call me,” Logan said as he stood on the deck and closed the ranch slider behind him.
They sauntered down the lane and Hana looked around nervously for the angry young man. “You’re a big old softie at heart, aren’t you?” she said to her husband, wrapping her right arm around his waist and hooking her thumb into his back jeans pocket.
He smiled down at her with a twinkle in his eye and denied it. “Just a shrewd businessman,” he answered.
“Loge?” Hana asked, suddenly curious as the loose stones crunched underfoot. “I didn’t know you had a business partner?”
Logan stopped and faced her. His eyes were deadly serious. “It’s this woman I met a long time ago. She’s gorgeous and we’ve got this thing going on.”
Hana’s brow knitted and she felt sad and vulnerable. Logan put his head back and laughed, not wanting to prolong her misery. He leaned in to kiss her and she pushed him away crossly. Logan switched Phoenix onto his other side and ran his fingers up Hana’s cheek and into her hair, pulling her in close to him. “Hana, you’re my business partner, you egg! Nev spoke to you, remember?”
Hana leaned back and eyed her husband with suspicion, before deciding he was paying her a huge compliment. A slow smile broke out over her face and she let him kiss her while their baby tugged on the front of Hana’s cardigan and repeated the popping sound, keen not to be left out.
The young grey eyed Du Rose watched from behind them on the lane, grinding his teeth and kicking at the loose dirt, oozing hatred and trouble.