Natasha's Hope

by Heather Greenis

  Her poppa took the vase from Alex, and her son jumped onto the bed and worked his way to her lap. The vase was placed on the night table.

  “You have a baby sister,” she informed him.

  “Baby Wose,” Alex announced proudly.

  Taken off guard, she stared at her son, speechless. Positive she was carrying another boy, they hadn’t discussed female names. She turned and looked at Adam.

  “I don’t know how to respond,” she admitted. “I don’t want Alex to call his sister ‘Baby Venderkemp’.”

  Adam raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders.

  “You didn’t consider a name for a daughter?” her father asked, sitting on the edge of their bed.

  “Nay. I didn’t believe I was capable of carrying a daughter full term.”

  “We agreed upon a daughter’s name before we wed,” Adam reminded her.

  “No. After two dreadful miscarriages, this baby girl is a gift from God. That name is bad luck. I can’t lose this child now that I’ve held her.”

  “Alex was named honouring his papa’s,” Adam reminded her. “Would you consider naming our daughter after her nana’s?”

  Natasha was a beautiful name but she wasn’t sure her father or Izabella wished to hear it spoken regularly in their home. Although she knew it would please Adam to name the baby after his mother, she wasn’t fond of the name Mildred.

  “Nay,” she stated firmly.

  Alex gripped the baby’s finger.

  “Baby Wose. I’m Awex.”

  Hope stared at the ceiling. This should have been discussed. “It will be difficult explaining that Rose is not her name until we agree upon one.”

  “Rose is a beautiful name,” Adam admitted.

  “You haven’t considered another? We will not have another opportunity to name a child.”

  “Naming the child did not enter my mind. I prayed for a strong, healthy baby, and for my wife. Do you not like the name?”

  She never expected their son to name this babe. Adam was supposed to announce a name, and she would reply with a middle name. Alisha. A name that would hold meaning to her. They would both be happy.

  “Indeed I do. I would be pleased to name our daughter Rose Alisha Venderkemp.”

  “Alisha?” Adam inquired.

  Please don’t ask me to explain the reason for the name. Not in the presence of Poppa and Izabella. “Do you not like it?” Hope asked, praying she could persuade her husband to use the name.

  “I don’t recall hearing it mentioned until this moment. If it’s your wish—”

  “It is.” Conversation closed. Hope turned her attention to her daughter as she rested in Adam’s arms.

  “Rose Alisha, allow me to introduce you to your brother Alex, Papa Stewart, and Izabella.” She shifted her attention to her son.

  “You must be gentle, but you may kiss Rose Alisha’s cheek.”

  “Do you wish to hold Rose Alisha?” Adam asked Izabella. “She requires burping.”

  Izabella was all smiles as she took the baby in her arms.

  * * *

  Later that day, the Donovan family arrived at the orphanage to see the newest member of the family. Marcus and Joshua arrived with their families within the week. Rose was a wonderful baby and grew quickly. Alex’s bed was moved into the ‘big boy’s room’ while the nursery was transformed to a more female setting.

  * * *

  Four months later, Adam walked into the study room.

  “Stewart, your momma is on the telephone.”

  Stewart entered the office. “Momma.”

  “Stewart, I’m relieved Adam found you. Your poppa has taken ill. Doc has suggested you and Vicki come with your families. I’ve just ended my call with your sister.”

  “I’m on the way.”

  Stewart and Izabella left the property within five minutes.

  Vicki pulled up to the house at the same time with Matthew and Tessa.

  “Ah, Stewart and Vicki,” Willard mumbled. “Our children. Grown with families of your own. You chose well giving us a daughter-in-law we loved as our own, and now, after years of prayer, Izabella has entered our family. Vicki, you gave us a son-in-law we adore and who adores you. We are so pleased with our extended family.”

  Within the half-hour, Hope and Adam arrived with the children. After a lengthy visit, the family was sent home, leaving Stewart and Vicki to remain with their parents. Settling in the chair beside the bed, Stewart held his father’s hand. “We’ll take turns staying with Momma, Vicki. Why don’t you go to your old room and rest for a short while.”

  Emotionally exhausted, he rested his head on the mattress and closed his eyes.

  Sobbing woke him from a light sleep. I must have fallen asleep. Opening his eyes, his momma was on the bed, curled up in a ball, her head resting on poppa’s chest. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Placing his palms on his father’s chest, there was no movement, no heartbeat. Poppa is gone? No-o-o. I can’t lose him. Tears filled his eyes. Wake up, Poppa. Please open your eyes. I want to see your smile. To hear your laugh. I still need you. I love you. He sobbed, struggling to breathe.

  “Poppa. You are my best friend, my mentor. I don’t want to imagine my life without you.”

  A hand touched his shoulder. He twitched, looked up and saw momma.

  “He passed without pain,” Momma assured him.

  Stewart heard shuffling from the hallway. Vicki entered the room, wiping sleep from her eyes. “I heard voices.”

  “Come, my dear Victoria. Your poppa has passed.”

  “No-o-o,” she cried.

  The three sat on the bed in a big embrace and cried.

  “You must rest, Stewart, Vicki. We’re looking at his shell. Your poppa’s soul has gone to heaven.”

  Filled with grief, Stewart leaned toward Momma and embraced her.

  “I shall miss him,” he said brokenly. “Miss him terribly.”

  “I cannot imagine my life without him. I was but thirteen when I became acquainted with your poppa.” Pulling apart, Stewart looked into her teary bloodshot eyes. “I fell in love the moment he looked at me. I will miss his wit and his ability to make me smile.” She took a deep breath. “You possess so many of your poppa’s qualities. His disposition and his features. He lives through you, my son.”

  Overcome with emotions, Stewart lowered his head and sobbed in her arms. Vicki embraced his back, resting her head between his shoulder blades. Time stood still.

  “I require some time in private,” Momma whispered. “Return to your rooms and rest.”

  Leaving his mother’s side, Stewart held his sister’s hand and walked out of the master bedroom. Once in his former room, they crawled onto the bed, and he held his sister in his arms. Together they cried. It isn’t supposed to be this difficult. He had assumed Natasha’s death was as difficult as it could get. A young woman with a small child. His father wasn’t a young man, but this hurt in a much different way. He would always need his poppa. His parents. As Alex aged, he wouldn’t remember Papa Willard, the exceptional man.

  Stewart and Vicki consoled each other until momma joined them. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she held each of their hands.

  “Your poppa enjoyed his life. He often spoke in private of his pride for both his children as he watched you grow. We are privileged to have three grandchildren. Becoming acquainted with two great-grandchildren is an added blessing.”

  * * *

  Stewart returned home and comforted Hope as she wept. Funeral arrangements were made. Born, raised, and working in the area, his friends, past and current employees and business associates paid their respects. Stewart and Greg greeted the men and their wives. Momma put up a strong front and greeted her visitors. Exhausted at the end of the day, she wept in Stewart’s arms, grieving the man she loved. Poppa was laid to rest.

  “Momma, Stewart and Greg and I have been talking,” Vicki stated after their evening meal at the orphanage. “There is no need for you to live alone. I want y
ou to move into our house with us.”

  “We will sell your house,” Stewart added. “You don’t need to be in that house to have memories of Poppa.”

  “Make the arrangements,” she agreed, closing her eyes and nodding.

  * * *

  Three weeks later, Stewart was walking out of the office when his brother-in-law rushed into the lobby.

  “Your momma is ill. Go in haste. I will inform the remainder of the family.”

  “Why didn’t you telephone?”

  “The line was busy. Adam or Tom could have been dealing with a child in need.”

  Stewart ran out of the building and galloped bareback to his sister’s home.

  Dashing up the steps, he slowed to greet his niece and nephew, touching the top of their heads before entering his mother’s room. Tucked under the covers of the double bed, she looked pale and weak. He pulled the chair to the side of the bed, sitting across from his sister. After greeting his momma, he spoke of the good times they shared as a family. Lacking the strength, Momma never smiled, but her eyes sparkled slightly. “Nana?”

  Stewart looked over his shoulder. Greg stood just inside the doorway holding Matthew and Tessa’s hands. He saw Hope pass Rose to Izabella. Hope entered the room, leaned over her grandmother, and kissed her cheek.

  “I love you, Nana.”

  “Our family,” his mother weakly mumbled.

  “We love you, Momma,” Stewart whispered. He kissed her fingers.

  Her hand went limp. A long shuddering breath escaped Hope’s lips.

  “No-o-o. Not yet. I didn’t have a chance to….” Hope broke down and cried. Izabella, Vicki and Hope began to weep. Then Tessa, Matthew and Alex began to weep. Rose cried.

  My family needs me. Stewart stepped toward the door and picked up Alex, rubbing his small back. Greg took Tessa into his arms. Minutes felt like an eternity, but the sobbing subsided.

  “Neither their love or friendship faded through the years,” Stewart reminded his family. “Momma and Poppa experienced a true union of souls. They taught this family how to love.”

  “They did,” Vicki whimpered. “Momma was devastated when Poppa passed. She possessed the strength to deal with things when Natasha passed, but emotionally, she could not deal with Poppa’s death. She grieved every moment of the day. A part of Momma died with Poppa.”

  “I didn’t see her laugh after Papa passed,” Hope added. “She never truly smiled, even while holding Rose or playing with Alex.”

  “Momma and Poppa will be missed, but are together again. They’re happy and will watch over us.”

  Greg left his children at the edge of the bed and went to his wife’s side.

  “I’m truly honoured for the privilege of knowing both your parents.”

  “As am I,” Izabella remarked, moving to Stewart’s side.

  That night, Stewart broke down in Izabella’s arms.

  * * *

  “Agh,” Keegan moaned. “I can’t imagine losing either of my parents, but to lose his momma so quickly after his poppa would be devastating.”

  Will put his arm around her shoulders, leaned over, and kissed the side of her head.

  Alexander remained silent, but brought their attention back to the screen.

  * * *

  Abiding by their mother’s wishes, they held a small, intimate service with close friends and family. Greg, Adam, and Stewart acted as pallbearers with three long-time employees from his company. Adam’s parents stood behind Hope and Adam, caring for Alex and Rose. The casket was lowered into the ground.

  Hope’s sobs broke the silence. Adam stepped back and embraced his wife, speaking words of comfort. Stewart placed his hand on the back of her head.

  “Grieving is natural. But you must remember you are grieving for your personal loss. Your nana and papa are happy and content.”

  “I feel an empty void, Poppa.”

  “As do I, but their memories shall remain in our hearts. Our lives must continue. Momma and Poppa spoke those words to me when your momma passed.”

  “And be thankful to God for the time he gave us together.”

  Roses were tossed onto the casket. Hope stepped toward Natasha’s grave, bent down, and touched the stone.

  “I beg of you, Momma. You must remain patient. I cannot lose Poppa.”

  Hearing her prayer, Stewart gave Hope a moment in silence before touching her shoulder.

  “It is time to go, sweetheart.”

  Hope stood and followed her husband and father to the buggy.

  That evening, while Izabella slept, Stewart removed his journal, sat on the chair by the window with a candle glowing, and began reading sections that included his parents. An empty void consumed his heart. His mother had been the pillar for their family, his strength when Natasha passed. His father was his mentor, his hero, his confidant. Memories flooded his mind. He put the book on his lap, lowered his head, and wept. When Izabella’s hand touched the back of his head. Stewart rested his head against her chest, and cried uncontrollably.

  Vicki offered to host the Sunday meal but Hope quickly suggested the family meet at the orphanage.

  The family gathered and sat in the parlour. Alex looked around the room and called out for his Nana and Papa. Adam scooped Alex into his arms and carried him outside. The room was suddenly full of teary eyed souls.

  “In time, the names will bring smiles to our faces,” Greg reminded them. “They will live in our hearts and memories. I’m reminded of Willard daily, hearing him speak with me as I work.”

  “As do I,” Stewart admitted. “Poppa believed you must enjoy your work, finding humour when possible, but he did not tolerate tardiness or sloppy workmanship.”

  “Nay,” Greg agreed. “The reputation of his surname was very important to him. The men missed him when he retired. I shall miss him.”

  Stewart lifted his granddaughter from the blanket on the floor, and took Rose outside. Greg following behind, holding both Matthew and Tessa’s hand.

  Chapter Twelve

  Weeks later, Stewart walked in the main entrance and noticed Izabella standing in the doorway to the reading room, watching the children. He crept up behind her, and brushed his lips against the back of her neck. Izabella jumped and looked around. Stewart ducked out of view. She chuckled and took a step back. The door closed, leaving them alone in the lobby.

  “Stewart Donovan.”

  He lifted the hair from her neck and kissed behind her ear. “Are you confident it’s Stewart and not an admirer?” he questioned, keeping his voice down to a soft whisper.

  “Completely confident. I know those lips and the kiss.”

  “It’s possible there is competition. Is there another gentleman wishing to make you his wife? You are yet to agree to marry me,” he teased.

  The main door opened. Alex charged in with Hope behind him, carrying Rose.

  “Papa, Bewwa,” he screeched.

  Stewart turned, picked up Alex, winked at his daughter and looked into his grandson’s sparkling eyes.

  “Papa and Izabella shall retire for a nap.”

  Alex giggled. Hope shifted Rose to her other hip.

  “Papa and Bewwa shall nap,” he announced proudly.

  “You are being lazy, Alexander,” Hope scolded. “You must say Izabella, or Bella,” she stated, emphasizing the consonants. “Once you and your sister have a snack, you will have a nap.”

  Stewart lowered Alex to the floor and watched him follow his mother toward the kitchen. Reaching for Izabella’s hand, he led her up the main staircase and down the hallway. Locking the door separating the infirmary and the addition, he began caressing her neck with kisses. Izabella squirmed.

  “I’m burning with desire,” she moaned. They worked their way to the door leading to their private quarters. “My spine is tingling.”

  “Marry me. Alex struggles to pronounce the name Izabella. Allow him to call you Nana.”

  “I shall be a momma before a nana.”

  Momma? His
heart stopped as did the caresses. He stared at her, his heart skipping a beat.

  “Izabella,” his tone shaking with panic, “are you…?”

  “Nay. I am not with child,” she assured him.

  Placing his hand on his chest, he took a deep breath and exhaled, relieved by the news. His hand remained over his heart.

  “Don’t scare me like that. I love Hope, and I enjoyed raising her, but do not wish to become a father again. Find a way to marry me, Izabella. Allow the children to call you Nana.”

  “I’m too young to bear the name ‘Nana’.”

  “You’re one year my junior,” he reminded her. “You’re not too young.”

  Placing his hand behind her head, the kiss was tender, yet romantic. They shuffled toward their bed.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  “Show me,” she moaned.

  * * *

  Carrying the baby, Hope led Alex out of the kitchen and toward the office. Adam was sitting at his desk with some papers in front of him.

  “It is time for a nap, Poppa,” she informed her husband.

  “Papa and Bewwa napping,” Alex informed him. He yawned.

  “They are fortunate indeed to have time for a nap. I will join you in a moment and read a book.”

  Hope led the children up the main staircase, washed their hands and faces, and placed Rose in the crib. She closed the nursery door, then noticed Alex entering her father’s sitting room. Her jaw dropped.

  “Alex, No,” Hope whispered as loud as she could manage without waking Rose.

  Slowly, she walked to her father’s private quarters, contemplating the conversation she would have with her son. Adam, where are you? Alex requires discipline. He cannot enter Poppa and Izabella’s room. I’m so embarrassed, I am not up to this lecture. Looking down the hallway, she willed Adam to come. She sighed, relieved Adam had arrived to assist when he came through the door to the medical area.