Natasha's Hope

by Heather Greenis

  “Natasha is listening and loves both you and Hope.”

  Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, he held it on his heart and closed his eyes. Adam’s mother came rushing down the hallway from the orphanage nursery.

  “Adam. Pray tell. How is Hope?”

  “Her fever broke but she’s weak,” Adam whimpered, looking up at his momma. She squatted and embraced him. Tears escaped his watering eyes, and left wet spots on his white shirt. “She doesn’t possess the strength to deliver this baby.”

  Stewart heard Adam’s momma whisper words of encouragement while embracing her son. She pulled away from him.

  “I’ll go down and inform your poppa.” Mrs. Venderkemp turned to Stewart. “Would you like me to telephone Vicki and your parents?”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll do that,” Stewart responded.

  Forty-five minutes later, Stewart, Izabella, and Adam were still in the hallway, their backs resting against the wall. The exhausted doctor emerged from the room. All three stood.

  “My condolences, Adam. Hope has suffered another miscarriage.”

  “No-o-o,” he cried. His head flopped against the wall, his body sagged like a rag doll.

  “She lost a great deal of blood, but is resting comfortably.”

  Relief flooded Stewart’s body. His daughter would be fine. Stewart looked toward the doctor with watering eyes.

  “Why is she unable to carry to full term?”

  “I do not possess the answer, Stewart. She is a healthy woman, but experiences unexplained complications in the seventh month. We’re fortunate Hope didn’t lose her life this evening.”

  “Doc, the baby?” Adam questioned.

  “A little girl. I know Hope desires a family, but I do not recommend you attempt to conceive another child.”

  They were heartbroken. Hope would be devastated. Izabella led the doctor and nurse down the hallway.

  “You must rest,” Stewart whispered to Adam. “We’re all exhausted. Our doors shall remain open this evening. Do not hesitate to call if you require assistance.”

  * * *

  Awake when Adam wandered into the room, Hope couldn’t open her eyes. Soft lips caressed her forehead, but she didn’t feel movement on the bed. Opening her eyes, she watched Adam curl up on the chair beside the bed and cover himself with a blanket. Hope fell asleep, but the dreams began immediately, reliving the nightmare of losing the baby over and over. Adam was angry that she lost two babies.

  “Forgive me,” she whimpered in her sleep. “I beg of you. You must forgive me,” she pleaded. Arms wrapped around her, waking her.

  “Adam?”

  “Shh.”

  “Forgive me. I’m unable to give you children.”

  “Our children are within this building. It would be impossible to love them more if they were our own. I love you, Hope Venderkemp.”

  “I wish to bear your children and become a momma,” she whimpered.

  “Shh. You must rest.”

  The relentless nightmares continued the entire night. Losing the baby. Adam furious with her. Poppa upset. Awful, guilt-ridden dreams.

  * * *

  Still tired when he woke, Stewart didn’t want to stay in bed. Rising, he was dressed when he heard Izabella rolling over. He kissed her cheek. “Sorry I woke you. It’s early. Go back to sleep, love.” He walked out of the room. Voices stopped him.

  “No-o-o.”

  It was Hope’s voice. Surprised his daughter was awake, he wandered down the hallway and glanced into the room. He saw Adam sitting upright on the bed with Hope in his arms.

  “No-o-o,” Hope cried.

  Is she dreaming?

  “Love you, Hope,” Adam mumbled. “Shh. Need rest.”

  Adam’s eyes rolled back into his head. His body tipped forward onto Hope. Dear Lord. He’s going to hurt her. Running into the room, Stewart pushed Adam back. Leaning over the bed, he attempted to support his son-in-law.

  “Adam,” Stewart whispered. “Adam.”

  Adam didn’t respond to his voice, but instead, continued to mumble something in response.

  “No-o-o,” Hope cried, panicked. “I beg of you. Don’t leave me.”

  Adam’s eyes snapped open. His focus wasn’t on Hope, but on the wall on the opposite side of the room.

  I’m not an expert, but Adam’s delirious.

  “Love you,” Adam mumbled. His upper body began falling forward.

  I can’t support Adam and Hope. He turned his head toward the door to the hall. “Izabella,” he called in a loud whisper.

  Izabella appeared at the doorway, her hair still ruffled from sleeping. Her shawl was twisted, but covered the shoulders of her night dress.

  “Thank goodness you heard me. Find Adam’s father, I require his assistance.”

  Izabella ran from the room. It seemed to take forever for her to return with Mr. Venderkemp.

  “I fear Adam has not slept,” Stewart informed them. “We must remove him from Hope’s side. He can rest in our room.”

  Together the men pulled Adam to the edge of the bed, placed his arms around their shoulders, and dragged him out of the room. Izabella took Adam’s place on the bed and held Hope. The two men struggled with Adam’s limp body, guiding him through Stewart’s sitting room into the bedroom and lowered him onto the rumpled, unmade bed. Snug beneath the sheet and blanket, Adam’s breathing settled seconds after his head hit the pillow. Stewart and Mr. Venderkemp walked out of his sitting room and into the hallway.

  “I beg of you, Adam. Forgive me,” Hope pleaded.

  Leaving Adam’s father in the hallway, Stewart rushed into the master bedroom.

  “Shh,” Izabella whispered. “You are loved.” Izabella looked up at him.

  “Hope needs to hear her poppa’s voice while Adam sleeps,” Izabella informed him. “She cannot be left alone. I’ll return with your breakfast.”

  Stewart crawled onto his daughter’s bed and placed his arm around her, allowing Izabella to move.

  “No-o-o,” Hope cried.

  “Shh,” he whispered. “I don’t believe Adam was conscious of the fact he was moved,” he informed Izabella. “I’m grateful the Venderkemps stayed last evening.”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Izabella returned to the room with a food tray. Stewart reached for his coffee and took a sip.

  “No-o-o,” Hope cried.

  Startled, his body shifted.

  “Agh,” Stewart groaned as the coffee spilled onto his clothing. He pulled his shirt away from his skin.

  “I was a fool to bring hot liquid,” Izabella criticized. “Hope could have been burned. She reached into the pocket of her blue dress for a hanky and attempted to wipe the splatter from his dark trousers and white shirt. “I shall return with a glass of juice, and a glass of water. It will be safer for both you and Hope.”

  Izabella left the room, returning a few minutes later with clean trousers, a shirt and a tray with water and orange juice. She held Hope as he changed and ate before leaving the room.

  “I’ll be in the nursery if you need me.”

  Mid-morning she appeared at the door. Stewart was still holding Hope in his arms.

  “Has she rested?” Izabella asked.

  “Nay.”

  “I was hoping she’d be sleeping. If we are able to lay her down—”

  “I have attempted more than once. She wakes, crying.”

  Hope twitched. “Adam. My baby.”

  Holding her head against his chest, Stewart kissed her forehead and rocked her. “Hush,” he whispered. “I love you. Sleep, sweetheart.” Hope sighed and settled. “How is Adam?” Stewart inquired.

  “Sleeping soundly,” Izabella responded, keeping her voice lowered. “The children are playing at the far side of the building. I’ll open both windows. I could not sleep in this stale air. The volunteers have been told to keep the children away from this portion of the building.”

  After raising the windows, she walked out of the room,
returning a few minutes later. “Adam has not touched the food tray, but continues to sleep soundly. He didn’t hear me enter the room, or open the window,” she informed him. She placed Stewart’s reading glasses and novel on the table beside his glass of water.

  Exhausted and stiff, Stewart was pleased to see Izabella return an hour later.

  “She’s resting. Hope has been sleeping about twenty minutes,” he whispered.

  “I’ll help you lay her down.”

  Izabella supported Hope’s head and back while Stewart shifted his body away from her. Deeply asleep, Hope never stirred. They rested her head on her pillow. Sliding off the bed, Stewart stood and stretched his back. “Is Adam still sleeping?”

  “Indeed he is, but his tray is empty. It is pleasing he has had nourishment.”

  “That is pleasing.”

  “I was able to remove the tray without waking him and left fresh water beside the bed.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Stewart and Izabella were sitting on the chairs, chatting.

  “Poppa.”

  It did not sound like his daughter’s voice. Normally full of spunk, her tone sounded weak, barely audible.

  “Good afternoon,” he responded. He stood and went over to her bed.

  “Adam?”

  “He is sleeping.”

  “Thirsty,” she managed to whisper.

  Izabella jumped from her seat and began propping pillows behind her back, allowing Hope to sit up. Stewart supported her as she sipped from the glass of water while Izabella disappeared into the hallway.

  “Is Adam ill?”

  “Nay. Simply tired.”

  Izabella returned a few minutes later with a dish of food the orphanage doctor recommended. Once handed the bowl and spoon, Stewart looked at the heap of mush and turned his nose up. Nauseated by the scent resembling dirty socks, he scowled.

  “Do not allow Hope to see that face,” Izabella scolded quietly. “We are to encourage her to eat this.”

  Stewart scooped the goop onto the spoon. “Open your mouth, sweetheart. You must eat to restore your strength.”

  The first spoonful entered her mouth. Hope’s entire face crinkled.

  “It has been years since I have witnessed such an expression on your face,” Stewart admitted.

  Hope opened her eyes and looked into the bowl.

  “Awful,” she informed him, her tone soft and weak. “Foul. Rotten.”

  “I was hoping the taste would be pleasing. I recall a time I finished the meals on your plate. Given the smell, I’ll save it for you.”

  “Pop-pa,” she moaned, dragging the pronunciation of the word. “Tired. Not today.”

  “Ste-wart,” Izabella lectured, making his name sound twice as long. “Stay focused. She requires nourishment, not wit.”

  “You must eat more,” he urged in a serious tone.

  She closed her eyes and opened her mouth for the next spoonful. Hearing movement in the hall, Stewart looked toward the door. Adam was leaning against the doorframe.

  “You have to eat more, Hope,” Stewart ordered.

  She opened her mouth for the third time and swallowed the food.

  “Enough,” she grunted. “Thirsty.”

  Hope didn’t notice Adam but drank some water and closed her eyes. They lowered her back onto her pillow. Her breathing turned deep and peaceful.

  “Has she slept?” Adam inquired.

  “Indeed, a little bit,” Stewart responded quietly.

  “I owe you a debt of gratitude. I do not recall going to your room.”

  “I believe you were almost comatose. Are you well?”

  “Although I’m tired, I’m functional,” Adam admitted. “Her nightmares began shortly after you retired. She cried in my arms and worried over the lost child.”

  “All night? You didn’t call for me?” Stewart questioned. “I would have comforted her while you got some sleep.”

  Resting against the wall, Adam closed his eyes. “There was no need for you to be as exhausted as I. Hope spoke my name throughout the night. In my heart, it was imperative she hear my voice respond. I appreciated the food tray and your room and bed.” He shifted his eyes to the floor. “I must remove the furniture and clothing from the nursery. I fear the sight will bring tears to Hope’s eyes.”

  “I shall assist tomorrow. Hope will not move from this room today. Izabella and I will remain with her.”

  “Your momma and poppa are on the main level with Tom and the children,” Izabella informed him. “They would appreciate seeing you.”

  “I’ll go down.” Adam yawned. Retrieving fresh clothing, he left his bedroom to change.

  * * *

  Four days later, they buried baby Grace at the back of the property, right beside baby Mary. Adam carried his wife out with Stewart following behind with a wooden chair. Once Hope was settled, Izabella stood behind her. They watched Stewart and Adam lower the small box into the ground beside their first daughter. A cross marked the location. With Adam supporting Hope, she placed flowers beside each of the two graves. Exhausted from her outing, Hope was carried back to the orphanage and up to their room.

  * * *

  “How horrible,” Keeghan admitted. “I can’t imagine anything as emotionally heartbreaking as two terrible miscarriages. Even if the doctor gave the go ahead to try again, there is no way I’d attempt another pregnancy.” She looked at William. “You’d be going in to get snipped.”

  Will placed his arm around her shoulders. “That isn’t going to happen to you, to us. We’re going to have a family,” Will assured her.

  “Just a second.” She turned and looked at Alexander. “You made a comment about your momma a while ago. Is Hope your mom? Do Hope and Adam adopt a little boy since they can’t have kids of their own?”

  He didn’t respond but turned his attention straight ahead. Shit. I’m going to miss something. Keeghan turned her attention back to the screen.

  Chapter Five

  With construction of the hotel completed, Stewart stood back and admired the magnificent five-storey stone structure he designed. After conducting his final inspection, he rode to the orphanage and returned to the site with Adam, Hope, and Izabella. The tour began once Greg arrived with Vicki, Matthew, a sleeping baby Tessa, and Stewart’s parents. Holding Matthew’s hand, Stewart opened the door. The young boy gazed about in awe. Seeing his nephew’s expression, Stewart lifted Matthew into his arms and pointed out the ornate designs. The women marvelled at the marble staircases, banisters, and gold chandeliers.

  “Momma is smiling. You had nobility in mind when designing this structure,” Hope observed.

  “Natasha inspired me, daily. I expect your momma’s brothers and their families to stay in this hotel,” Stewart responded.

  * * *

  That evening, sitting on the sofa in their private quarters, Stewart and Izabella conversed about their lives, work, and dreams.

  After a good night’s sleep, he walked into Greg’s office and sat across from his brother-in-law.

  “I have decided to work from home from here on. I wish to spend more time with Hope, Adam, Izabella and the children. I will not be at the site or at the office on a daily basis. I’m giving you a promotion, Greg, making you my business partner, effective immediately.”

  Greg slumped down onto his chair and then sat up straight. “I’m shocked, but pleased … thrilled.”

  “My company is in good hands. We'll speak later but right now, I have an errand to complete.”

  Stewart left the office and returned home. Giddy young voices welcomed him to the property. Seeing Izabella relaxing on the porch chair, he led the horse to the fenced area and walked toward the main entrance. Izabella stood, straightened the skirt of her green dress, and extended her hand. Stewart raised her fingers to his lips, and kissed them before opening the door, and entering with her by his side. They approached the office door, hoping to speak with Adam and Hope.

  * * *

  Hope was in the storage ro
om when a young volunteer entered the room.

  “Hope. We need your help in the study room. Immediately.”

  She ran down the hallway with the volunteer a few feet behind. Seeing Adam guide a couple to the entrance with their newborn child, she slowed her pace and smiled to acknowledge them. Then she walked into the study room and dealt with the problem.

  “Hope.”

  Turning, Adam stood at the doorway, motioning for her to follow him. Adam closed the office door behind her.

  “Sweetheart. Must I remind you we have a manager capable of handling the day to day issues within this building. If a problem occurs, Tom is capable of taking care of it. It is his job to assist you. The volunteers must locate him if they require assistance.”

  “I enjoy working with the volunteers, and I wish to remain approachable.”

  “As do I, but I don’t enjoy seeing you rush. Neither of us needs to be reminded, you recently suffered a miscarriage. Nothing is more important than your health. I don’t want you experiencing unnecessary stress. Tom was hired to manage the daily operations. To my knowledge, the volunteers and staff enjoy working with him. You must allow him to do his job. I love you, Hope Venderkemp. I need—”

  A knock on the door interrupted him.

  “Just a minute,” Adam responded.

  The door opened.

  “Pardon the intrusion,” her father said. “I’m interrupting a private conversation, but I must speak with you.”

  Hope’s eyes shifted to Adam and back to her father. “Come in.”

  Adam pulled Hope’s desk chair beside his, allowing her father and Izabella to use the client chairs.

  “Hope, you’re aware of your trust fund, but I never informed you I received money as well when your momma passed. A great deal of money.”

  Hope’s eyes bulged. Momma left you money as well? She never responded. You could hear the proverbial pin drop. Adam sat stone still on the chair beside Hope.