Natasha's Hope

by Heather Greenis

  “I shall speak with him this evening.” A smile chased the shadows of sadness from her features for an instant. They continued their visit until Hope began to yawn. “Good night, Poppa, I love you.”

  “I love you. Inform me of Adam’s decision regarding the pond. If he wishes, I will ask my crew to come and dig the hole.”

  Grinning, Hope made her way to her quarters. She had just settled in bed when her husband opened the door and walked in. Adam appeared tired, but she didn’t want to delay the discussion. She wanted a pond to swim in.

  “I’m so glad you came up before I fell asleep. I wish to speak with you,” she informed him.

  Adam sat on the edge of the bed, giving her his full attention.

  “I’d like you to consider a pond on the property. Poppa will arrange men to dig the hole, and a locked fence will contain the area to protect the children.”

  “That would please me,” he admitted enthusiastically. “I’ve missed the water.”

  “Truly? I questioned how you would feel about the suggestion.”

  “Indeed. I possess wonderful memories with your family at the pond, Hope.”

  Her mind filled with a glorious memory. The moonlight sparkling on the water, it was one of the most romantic nights of her life. “My family?” she teased, recalling their first night together.

  Adam smiled and winked. She chuckled. “That occurred beside the pond,” she reminded him. Adam’s smile turned into a grin.

  “That night is stored in my memory for all eternity,” he admitted.

  “Should I speak with Poppa? With his connections, that hole shall be dug in haste.”

  Adam leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss. “Inform him we wish to be swimming by the week’s end.”

  * * *

  Greg and Stewart were at the hotel site, sitting at the picnic table enjoying their lunch break. Seeing the buggy, Greg walked over to greet his wife, lifted their son and placed him on the ground and then assisted Vicki to the ground. He reached for the box of paperwork and carried it to the table. Matthew crawled toward his uncle. Stewart shifted off the seat and picked up his nephew.

  “Payday,” Stewart announced gleefully. “The day we’re compensated for our expertise and hard labour.”

  After giving Matthew a snuggle, Stewart readjusted the boy on his lap, picked up the pen Vicki set on the table, and began signing the prepared cheques. Vicki began shifting from one foot to the other, diverting his attention.

  “You’re as giddy as a child on Christmas morning,” Stewart informed his sister. “What in heaven’s name is the cause?”

  “I’m with child,” she boasted. “I received confirmation this morning.”

  Shocked, Stewart dropped his pen, shifting his attention between Greg and Vicki, ecstatic for them.

  “Another child?” Greg exclaimed, his eyes opening wide. He beamed. He jumped from his seat and embraced his wife and then kissed her cheek. “You didn’t speak of your suspicions.”

  “Nay, I didn’t believe it was possible after so many disappointments attempting to conceive Matthew.”

  “I shall be an uncle again.”

  “This is pleasing news indeed,” Greg admitted. “Blessed once, I didn’t expect to hear those words a second time.”

  “Given my age, Doc suggests I be cautious, but the baby possesses a strong heartbeat.”

  “You’re young,” Stewart argued, surprised by the comment.

  “In my heart and mind, I’m young, but it’s risky for a woman to become pregnant in her late thirties.”

  “Matthew shall have a sibling,” Stewart remarked with pride.

  “I’m concerned for Hope,” Vicki admitted. “After her miscarriage, she may find this news upsetting.”

  “That will not be the case. They plan to have another child. You must go to the orphanage to convey the news in person. Hope and Izabella will be so pleased.”

  Stewart picked up the pen and continued signing the payroll cheques.

  Ready to resume work, Stewart looked at his young nephew. “Would you care to assist Uncle Stewart? Poppa and I are building a big hotel.”

  Matthew grinned, his observant eyes sparkling.

  * * *

  Stewart and Izabella travelled to his former home once a week to visit Vicki, Greg and Matthew. Stewart cherished his time with his young nephew and a strong bond developed. When Vicki brought her son to the site, young Matthew remained by Stewart’s side. The dark haired, green-eyed boy seemed to enjoy spending time watching the construction. He watched in awe as his father and the men worked with the equipment, listening intently as his uncle explained the process.

  * * *

  With Nana’s assistance, Aunt Vicki gave birth to a healthy little girl. Leaving Adam’s parents to manage the children, her father, Izabella, Hope, and Adam arrived the following day to see the newest addition to the family. Her father held Matthew while Hope held baby Tessa in her arms. Her heart yearned for a child of her own. Quiet as they travelled home, she thought about the day.

  In bed when Adam entered the room, she set her needlework on the bedside table. Adam changed into his night attire and crawled in beside her.

  “I’ve done a great deal of thinking,” she informed him. “I wish to try to become a momma again.”

  “After holding Tessa in your arms, I expected to hear those words. With Doc’s approval, we shall attempt to conceive another.”

  * * *

  Two months later, Hope rushed toward Stewart as he pushed a boy on a swing. Following behind her, Adam was grinning.

  “Poppa. You shall be a papa. Doc confirmed my suspicions.”

  Stewart embraced Hope and then shook Adam’s hand. Thrilled for his daughter, Stewart’s mind flooded with memories of Hope’s first pregnancy. She had kept herself busy—in his opinion, too busy. Recalling Natasha’s pregnancy, she had been under stress, but her body was allowed to rest. Natasha had produced their beautiful daughter.

  Desperate to become a papa, he wanted a piece of Natasha to live on. He followed the young couple to the parlour to inform Izabella.

  Leaving the women, Stewart led Adam out of the building for a chat. As they walked around the perimeter, Stewart spoke of Hope’s previous pregnancy and the stress of the orphanage.

  “I’d like to hire a manager to assist with the children and the paperwork.”

  “Stewart. That is a luxury the orphanage cannot afford. I appreciate both you and Izabella assisting with the groceries, but hiring means paying wages. I cannot justify using Hope’s trust fund when it isn’t a necessity.”

  Stewart nodded, but it was obvious he had not made his intentions clear. “My apologies. Allow me to clarify. This person will report to you or Hope, but I will pay the salary from my personal resources. I am willing to do anything necessary to ensure both Hope and this child are healthy.”

  “I can’t—won’t—argue that.”

  The men shook hands and returned to locate the women. They were still on the sofa. The men stood in front of them.

  “Adam and I were talking, Hope. We are going to hire a manager to assist with the day to day operations of the orphanage.”

  “That isn’t necessary—”

  “I disagree, Hope,” Adam argued. “You will relinquishing all but two duties, bookkeeping and reading to the children. We are not arguing about this.”

  Hope scowled but remained silent.

  * * *

  Adam and Hope interviewed a number of potential candidates, and an assistant manager was hired. Married with two children, Tom was a tall, robust man in his late twenties with blond hair, brown eyes, and a jovial laugh. The children loved him.

  * * *

  Needing a break from her paperwork, Hope glanced out the office window. “This is silly. The paperwork can wait.”

  Planning to go outside, she stood from her chair. A warm explosion gushed from her body. It dribbled down her inner legs. Panicking, her heartbeat rang in her ears. “Positive thoughts. I�
��m fine. The baby is well. The miscarriage came with excruciating pain. Perhaps the baby is resting on my bladder. Rather disgusting, embarrassing, and humiliating, but harmless. But what if it isn’t harmless? What if I’m bleeding?” The pounding in her heart intensified. Doc will confirm that the baby is healthy and everything is fine.” Two premature babes were born the previous night. She wanted Doc. Her own doctor. Voices outside the door penetrated her thoughts.

  “No. No clients,” she begged. “I need Adam. I need help.” Listening, she heard her father’s voice and then Adam’s. They were adjusting the squeaky front door. She sat back down, afraid to move, putting her hand on her enlarged stomach.

  “Adam? Poppa? Are you able to hear me?” she cried, her voice having more fear than she intended. Adam was in the office within seconds.

  “I’m not in pain but I’m all wet. It’s impossible to be calm. I’m terrified,” she cried. “I fear I may be bleeding.”

  “Stewart,” Adam yelled.

  * * *

  Hearing Adam, Stewart bolted into the office. Adam lifted Hope into his arms and then Adam glanced down at the chair. His facial expression and slight nod confirmed something was terribly wrong. Taking a step toward the desk, Stewart saw the dark wet spot on the cushion. Damn it.

  “You must remain calm,” Adam reassured his wife.

  Stewart stepped out of the office, rushed across the hall, and into the study room. “Izabella!”

  She left the volunteer reading to the children and rushed to his side.

  “It’s Hope,” Stewart informed her. “Once Adam gets Hope out of the office, I will call Doc’s office and find out where he is. We need him here.”

  “If Doc is out of the office, I will go to him. Contact Adam’s parents.”

  “Yes, I will.”

  The telephone call was made. Doc was making a home visit. The patient did not have a telephone.

  “We can only pray Doc is able to follow you back here,” he whispered, unable to disguise his anxiety.

  Stewart assisted Izabella onto the horse and ran into the house and up the main staircase. Adam and Hope were sitting on the bed when Stewart entered the room.

  “I’m so hot,” Hope informed Adam, “but I’m not in pain.”

  Lowering her head onto his pillow, Adam kissed her forehead.

  “You’re burning with fever. I’ll return with ice.”

  Turning, Adam ran past Stewart and out of the room. Leaving Hope, Stewart dashed into the orphanage for the doctor. Three women were in various stages of giving birth. Do I pull Doc Henry away? He’s needed here. Hope isn’t in pain. I will go for him if her own doctor is delayed. He ran back to Hope’s bedroom to sit with his daughter.

  They had Hope covered in crushed ice from her neck to her feet when Doc and his nurse arrived. The men were sent out of the room and the door closed behind them.

  “I will return in a moment,” Stewart informed Adam. “I must telephone Vicki and my parents.”

  Stewart rushed up the private stairs and looked down the hallway. Adam was sitting with his back against the wall, staring blankly into space. Joining his son-in-law, his put his arm around the young man’s shoulder.

  “Hope will be okay. Soon you will be holding your babe in your arms.”

  “I keep telling myself that,” Adam mumbled. “I wish Doc would confirm that.”

  As do I.

  Twenty minutes later, Izabella rushed down the hallway toward them. “Adam, your parents are assisting Tom with the children.”

  He simply nodded.

  “Come to our sitting room. It is more comfortable than the floor. We will hear Doc when he comes out.”

  The two men shuffled their way into the room. Izabella sat on the sofa holding Stewart’s hand. Adam paced.

  “He will wear a hole in the floor,” Stewart mumbled.

  Izabella squeezed his hand. Minutes seemed like hours, like an eternity. Stewart attempted the impossible, to remain positive. She isn’t in pain. During her miscarriage, she spoke of the excruciating pain. Still that fever is distressing. Movement in the hallway captured his attention. Adam dashed into the hallway with Stewart a foot behind. Doc never looked their way, but rushed for the medical area of the orphanage. He returned a moment later, looked at the anguished men, and closed the door. Stewart’s stomach turned somersaults. The men returned to the sitting room.

  Too quiet, Stewart could hear his own heart beating. Hope hadn’t made a sound in a long time.

  “I’m terrified,” Adam admitted. He sat on a chair and stared out the window. “Hope appeared weak when we left her.”

  Just as frightened, Stewart bit his bottom lip. His daughter possessed Natasha’s strength. Deep in his heart he prayed Hope could feel her momma’s presence.

  “We must remain strong, Adam. Hope is fighting for the baby.”

  The words were comforting, but only words. Adam needed more. They both needed more. They needed Doc’s reassurance. Adam stood and left Stewart’s sitting room. His footsteps echoed down the hall toward his bedroom. Stewart rose and followed him. Adam leaned against the wall, closed his eyes, and prayed.

  “I’ll return momentarily,” Izabella informed them. “I will assist with the children and update the Venderkemps.”

  Time passed slowly. Sitting on the floor, pins and needles prickled Stewart’s feet and legs. He shifted his bottom, attempting to relieve the discomfort. Adam needed him. He wasn’t leaving his son-in-law. The door opened. Doc gave it a push and rushed toward the infirmary again. Seeing the narrow opening, Stewart leaned over, attempting to see inside the room. Frustrated, he could see the chairs by the window, but couldn’t see the bed. What I’d give to rearrange that bedroom. He was about to push the door farther open, when Doc reappeared with more medical supplies.

  “She is still fevered, but not in pain.” Doc informed them. “It’s vital the fever breaks.” The door was closed.

  Mrs. Venderkemp came up regularly to enquire. Izabella arrived, bringing nourishment. The liquid disappeared, but the food remained on the tray.

  “You need to eat,” Izabella lectured the men.

  “I can’t,” Stewart informed her. “My stomach will not hold food.”

  Once the children were settled for the night, Izabella joined them in the hall

  “I insist. You must move back to our sitting area. With the door open, you will hear Doc.”

  They retreated. The only sound that came from the bedroom was a plea for more ice.

  “This waiting is dreadful,” Stewart admitted. “Nothing worse.” Each minute that ticked by, the concern grew. He held onto hope. Hopeful the baby was alive, hopeful that the fever would break. In a few weeks, they would be smiling. He would be a papa, holding Natasha’s precious grandchild in his arms. “The child will be six weeks premature if it is delivered this evening.”

  “Yes,” Izabella agreed.

  “This is ridiculous,” Stewart exclaimed, standing abruptly. “My daughter is in one room and the people who love her in another. This will not do.”

  “I want to see her. I will see her. We are in my home, our home,” Adam added, determined to have his way. “Doc must allow us to see her. To support her.” He walked out of the room and into the hallway with Stewart following behind.

  Adam tapped ever so lightly on the door and opened it.

  “Doc, I wish to see Hope. She needs,” —he turned and glanced at Stewart— “us with her.”

  “I will allow it, but Hope must remain calm,” Doc responded.

  They stepped into the room. Hope was lying on their bed, her face dripping with sweat. Her normally shining, golden hair flopped lifelessly on her pillow.

  “Wipe her face and neck with the wet cloth,” Doc instructed.

  Stewart sat on the chair Doc had been using. Adam pulled the other chair from beside the window and sat on the opposite side of the bed. Adam reached into the basin of ice cold water and grabbed the rag. After squeezing out the excess water, he wiped Hope
’s forehead, cheeks, and neck. Her eyes remained closed.

  “I love you, Hope,” Adam whispered, placing his fingers on hers. “You are loved by so many. I need you. Your poppa needs you.”

  “She is so weak.” Adam’s face contorted. He fought back his tears. “Hope squeezed my hand but I barely felt it.”

  “I’ll leave you with Hope, but will return when required,” Doc informed them.

  “Take your time, Doc. We appreciate the time with her. You require a break. We’ll come for you when the fever breaks.”

  Taking turns, one wiped her face and neck. The other used their ice cold fingers to hold her hot hands.

  Two hours later, Hope’s teeth chattered, breaking the silence. Leaving the cold rag on her forehead, Stewart placed his fingers on her cheek. He kissed her forehead. Not convinced, he felt his own cheek.

  “It is difficult to be certain, but I think her fever has broken. I’m still chilled from having my fingers in the ice water.”

  Adam rose from his chair, leaned over, and kissed his wife’s forehead and then her cheek. Tears filled his eyes. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against hers. His lips curled into a smile.

  “Izabella, get Doc,” Stewart called. “Her fever broke.”

  Doc stepped into the room and they left. Stewart, Adam and Izabella leaned against the wall, exhausted, praying for both Hope and her unborn child.

  “She is so weak, dear God, give her strength,” Adam prayed.

  Stewart wiped the wet streaks from his own cheeks. He tilted his head and stared at the ceiling.

  “Natasha,” he whispered, keeping his voice low. “I beg of you, stay with our daughter. I lost you. I cannot lose our little girl.”

  Izabella’s warm hand touched his hand. She kissed his fingers.