Natasha's Diary

by Heather Greenis

  “Silly Papa,” Eliza responded, entering the room behind them. “We are all still in our night attire.”

  Eliza gave Willard a quick kiss on the cheek and followed Vicki to the counter. Hope was placed on the chair between the two men. His father handed Stewart the newspaper. The headline read: King Harold Strathroy ill. Prince Joshua to assume official duties. Stewart’s eyes bulged. His attention shifted back to his father.

  “Neither Joshua, Marcus, or Nanny, have mentioned this. Natasha spoke with her father weeks before her death.”

  “The article is not very informative,” his father remarked. “I’m certain you shall receive more detail from Nanny or Marcus.”

  That afternoon, Nanny visited and joined Stewart and his father in the parlour. After pleasantries, Stewart enquired about the article.

  “Marcus and Joshua have spoken lately of the fact their father is becoming weak and frail. Harold was once able to command respect, but has since lost his vitality. Natasha’s death and the inability to see his granddaughter have been difficult for him. I believe something happened the day he was informed of his daughter’s death. Harold was distraught at the news and begged to see Natasha’s body to mourn the loss. The last time he spoke to her daughter, he raised his voice in anger. I was present and heard the conversation. Now, his heart is filled with regret and grief. He is a strong, domineering man, and he is unable to deal with the consequences of his own actions or events he had no control over. Although Natasha would question this, Harold loved her and wanted what was best for her. Losing the legal battle to have Hope raised in his home devastated him. It broke him.”

  “Natasha believed in her heart her father never wished a daughter, having expected another son. I would have expected a battle for a grandson, but a granddaughter?”

  “Harold is losing control. He attempted to bring Natasha under his command and failed. He fought for custody of Hope, and the court found the will sound. I’m convinced Natasha knew the inability to control his grandchild would kill him.”

  Stewart never wished to see people suffer, but his wife had ended her life because of this man. Hope would grow without her momma. It was impossible to feel remorse.

  “My heart grieves for Marcus and Joshua. It will be difficult watching their father,” he admitted to Nanny. He looked up at the ceiling with a weak smile. “You have received your last wish, my love. Your actions have affected your father deeply.” With a deep breath, he gave thanks his own parents were healthy.

  Over the next few weeks, Stewart had a few discussions with Joshua, Marcus and Nanny over the wording of Natasha’s grave marker. All in agreement, the believed Natasha would be pleased. Once Stewart was notified it was in place, he began taking Hope to the cemetery to see Natasha’s plot.

  Natasha

  Cherished wife of Stewart

  Momma of Hope

  Freedom at last—see you in Heaven, my love

  Chapter Six

  Vicki received her acceptance letter from Picton late that summer. She would begin her first year, pursuing a business degree. Determined to graduate with his master’s degree, Stewart sent a telegram to the dean of Picton University, explaining his situation. After meeting with the dean, he was granted permission to finish his masters when school resumed in the autumn. He informed his parents of the news as they ate their evening meal.

  “Your momma will care for Hope while you are at school, but we would appreciate you returning on weekends.”

  “I’ve given this serious thought, Poppa. I will not be living in residence while pursuing my degree. I will take the train daily to and from the university.”

  “Stewart, the distance—”

  “Yes,” he interrupted. “I will take advantage of the travel time and work on my studies. That will give me more time to spend with Hope. I appreciate Momma caring for her during the school day, but I will be home for dinner and to put her to bed every evening.”

  “You insisted the distance was too great when you attended a few years ago.”

  “Yes,” Stewart moaned. “Obviously I had more than my studies in mind when discussing my living arrangements. With Natasha hoping to attend Picton the following year, I took a chance and argued my case.”

  “Rather effectively. Perhaps you should have studied law, son.”

  Stewart smiled and nodded. “If Vicki wishes to commute, I’ll be happy to pay for her daily ticket.”

  Having a mouthful of food, Vicki smiled and nodded.

  On their first day of classes, Stewart left Hope in Momma’s care, eager to hear every detail of their day when he returned.

  * * *

  During dinner one evening, Momma conveyed a comical story to the family. Eliza had been hanging the laundry, keeping a watchful eye on Hope and the dog. She noticed Goldie holding a stick in her mouth, with the other end pointed toward Hope.

  “Hope. Goldie wishes to play. Grab the stick and give it a tug.”

  Hope reached for the stick and pulled. The dog growled. She released the wood and fell back onto her bottom. The skirt of her casual beige dress slipped above her knees. With tears racing down her cheeks, the child crawled as fast as she could, crying for her nana.

  Eliza dropped the clothes in her hand, bent down, and picked up her whimpering, terrified granddaughter. The ageing dog crouched down with her head on her paws, watching her little friend.

  “Do not fret. Goldie won’t hurt you. That was a playful growl. She has always played tug with Papa, your poppa, and Aunt Vicki. She wishes to play with you.”

  Hope squirmed to get down. She rubbed Goldie’s back, picked up the stick, and held it out. Goldie slowly crept toward her playmate, clenched the stick in her mouth, and gave a gentle pull. She growled. Hope looked into the dog’s eyes and growled back. Then she giggled. Confident things were back on an even keel, Eliza reached for a pair of trousers and folded them.

  * * *

  Stewart took the first train home, leaving Vicki to speak with new friends. Walking toward the house, he saw Hope tugging on a stick with Goldie gripping the other end in her teeth.

  “Poppa, help,” Hope called.

  He set his books on the ground and walked toward them. “Goldie will growl at me.”

  “Listen, Poppa.” Hope turned her attention back to the dog. Her nose scrunched, a “Grrr” sound rolled out of her mouth. Goldie growled and pulled on the stick. Hope growled again before giggling. Stewart burst into laughter. Unable to fathom what Natasha’s reaction might have been, he rolled his eyes, tilted his head and looked into the sky. “My humble apologies, Natasha. Our daughter believes herself to be dog.”

  He lowered himself to his knees and extended his arms. Hope let go of the stick and ran to him for a big hug, leaving Goldie to drop the stick. Stewart took Hope’s hand and led her toward the house where his mother had milk and cookies waiting.

  “You must inform me if Hope becomes a burden,” he requested as Hope worked her way through the plate of cookies.

  “Although I appreciate the end of the day when you and Vicki return from school, I would have managed if you and your sister lived in residence through the week. I admit I’m grateful you both chose to remain living at home. Goldie lacks the energy she once had, but she is a dedicated friend to that child. I cherish my quality time with Hope. Goldie and I both look forward to Hope’s nap though. Once she is down, the dog sleeps and I complete chores that are difficult in the company of a young child.”

  * * *

  As expected, a constant stream of young men knocked at their door with the intent of courting Vicki. She had a busy social calendar. Stewart’s social calendar was non-existent. Lacking the time and inclination, he found being a full-time student and father exhausting, and struggled to complete his assignments.

  With Hope settled and sleeping for the night, Stewart went to his room and opened his text book.

  He heard a knock on the door.

  “Come in.”

  Momma opened the door. �
�I am concerned for your health, Stewart. You require more sleep. I appreciate your dedication to your studies while Hope is sleeping. Your poppa and I want you to slow your schedule. Take an additional year to complete your degree.”

  He shook his head. “No. I will finish within two years, become employed, and support myself and my daughter.”

  * * *

  Prepared for his second class of the day, Stewart was sitting at the back of the lecture hall reviewing his notes when an attractive, blonde, hazel-eyed student approached. She sat beside him and introduced herself. Still in mourning for Natasha, he had no desire to begin courting again. Between his daughter and his studies, he never seemed to get enough sleep. He smiled politely and returned the courtesy before turning his attention back to his notes. The woman continued chatting. Not wishing to appear rude, he glanced her way periodically. Unfortunately, it seemed to give her the impression he was shy instead of not interested.

  After declining an offer to join her for a drink at the end of the day the woman continued to chat. Determined to discourage her, he reached into his satchel and retrieved a portrait of Hope.

  “What a beautiful child.”

  “Indeed she is. My daughter bears a strong resemblance to her momma.”

  The smile disappeared from the woman’s face. She excused herself and walked off. Later that day, he overheard the rumour that he was married. Content he accomplished his goal, he prepared to depart for home.

  * * *

  A month later, Stewart was pushing Hope on the swing when Vicki returned home from school. She placed her schoolbooks on the patio table and approached him. His normally happy sister was scowling. Something distressful must have occurred at school. Once we are alone, I will question her. Vicki stood beside him and glared at him. What have I done?

  “Stewart. I heard a conversation which I found displeasing. Why would the women at school assume you are married?”

  Although this was pleasing information, it was not a discussion he expected, nor a topic he wished to discuss, especially in front of Hope. It was his personal business and did not concern his sister. Content with his life, he would remain focused on his daughter and his education. Hope had become his reason to rise each morning. Hope shifted her attention between her aunt and him.

  “Poppa?”

  Stewart winked at his daughter and gave her a reassuring smile. He glanced at his sister, hoping she would acknowledge he heard her but did not wish to comment. He turned his attention back to his daughter and gave her another push.

  “Stewart, you are widowed. Why is it assumed you are happily married?”

  Stewart shrugged his shoulders. He stood and stepped away from his daughter. His sister followed him.

  “It could perhaps be presumed after someone saw a portrait of my daughter,” he mentioned casually. He turned his attention back to Hope.

  “Stewart,” Vicki groaned, disappointment heavy in her tone.

  “I have no desire to fall in love at this time in my life,” he responded calmly. “My heart is not ready to allow another to enter.”

  “You must socialize with fellow students, Stewart. Female students. Tomorrow, I shall make it known my brother’s wife passed, leaving him to raise their daughter.”

  No. Stewart glared at his sister, furious Vicki would even consider interfering in his personal life. “Vicki,” he pleaded. “I beg of you. Please. Do not speak of private matters that don’t concern you.”

  Ignoring him, she turned and walked toward their home, entering the building. “Victoria,” he yelled, infuriated, emphasizing the four syllable name.

  She ignored him, allowing the door to close. Grumbling under his breath, Stewart turned his attention back to his daughter. “Promise me, my darling Hope, that you will not become as stubborn as your aunt.”

  * * *

  That evening, with Hope settled, Stewart knocked and walked into his sister’s room. She was sitting at her desk, reading a textbook. Stewart sat on the edge of her bed, placing his hands on his lap.

  “We must discuss my, how do I say, lack of desire to be social with other students.”

  “Stewart.”

  “My heart is heavy. I still miss Natasha dreadfully. It would be impossible to court another woman. At this point in time my focus must remain on my studies, my daughter, and attempting to get some sleep. I lack the time and energy required to engage in a courtship. Please Vicki. In fairness to me and potential friends, I ask you to respect that.”

  Her attention shifted to her book. “I will remain silent on the topic, for now,” she agreed reluctantly.

  * * *

  Stewart completed his first year and was eager to spend more time with Hope. They were inseparable. Their summer was spent with Aunt Vicki, playing at the river and in the park. Stewart spoke frequently of Natasha, informing his impressionable little girl her momma loved her, but died, and went to heaven.

  * * *

  Stewart began his second and final year of his masters in the fall.

  Two weeks in, after finishing his midday meal, he walked into the library and sat at one of the many rectangular wooden tables with eight chairs. He focused on his studies.

  “A-hem.”

  Startled by the throat clearing, he glancing up, meeting the gaze of an attractive woman with light brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. Once she introduced herself, she took it upon herself to settle in the chair beside him. She struck up a conversation. Beautiful and intelligent. Perhaps it’s time to allow a woman friend to enter my life.

  They began spending a great deal of time together while at school. Although he appreciated Helene’s company, it was vastly different than his relationship with Natasha. He struggled with his feelings. Was the difference good or bad? Positive or negative? He wasn’t certain, but knew he didn’t cherish Helene’s company as he had Natasha’s. His wife had been his study partner and friend. He had missed Natasha when they were apart. He recalled his first year at school, looking forward to seeing her each Friday afternoon when he returned home for the weekend.

  Now, when Stewart boarded the train for school and walked into the university, his focus was on his studies. While at home, his focus was on his daughter, and then his studies. A vision of Helene never entered his mind when they were apart. Even as he sat writing in his journal, the sound of Natasha’s voice echoed in his inner ear. He replayed their many conversations over and over, lest he forget the words she shared with him.

  He was able to recall the topics he and Helene discussed, but not the words. Helene suggested sharing dinner during the holidays. Stewart declined. She suggested attending the theatre and other social activities. He declined. Functions that took place after school would take him away from his daughter. Nothing was more important than Hope. He would not confuse his daughter by introducing her to casual acquaintances.

  It pained Stewart to know he was disappointing Helene, but it was unavoidable. Helene was hoping their friendship would develop into something with a future, but Stewart was not interested. There was no spark in his heart.

  Lying in bed, he spoke to Natasha What’s wrong with me? Helene’s a beautiful woman. Do I require patience? Speak to me. He could feel Natasha’s presence, but did not sense any encouragement to pursue a relationship. He could only hope in time, emotions would develop.

  * * *

  Months passed, but his heart remained devoted to his deceased wife. Unable to sleep, he had time to reflect. Hope had just turned five years of age. It seemed inconceivable. Natasha had been gone almost two years. He would graduate, find employment, and eventually move out of his childhood home, all the while mourning his lost love. He needed to remain focused and build a life for himself and his daughter. It would be foolish to expect Helene to wait until he was emotionally prepared to open his heart. There was no guarantee his heart would ever be available. Helene deserved better, she deserved a man that would love her. Pondering their relationship, he considered breaking off their friendship. He co
uld take Helene for a walk around the grounds and inform her of his intent. Unfortunately, life didn’t always progress as planned.

  Helene walked into the library as he worked on an assignment. Taking the seat beside his, she spoke of a new restaurant that had opened.

  “Bring your daughter and we can dine.”

  Where are the appropriate words when I need them? He cringed as he heard his own voice say those harsh, blunt words. Her tears broke his heart. Unable to respond, to console her, he watched Helene rush of the building. Fellow school mates looked toward him. He should have been ashamed, but he wasn’t. He loved his deceased wife. Lacking any desire to court, he could only pray the overwhelming pain and emptiness in his heart would dissipate with time.

  Chapter Seven

  On the day of his graduation, Stewart walked to the podium and received his master’s degree. His family watched from the crowded auditorium. He took the scroll and kissed it. The Dean’s List. I managed to accomplish this without my study partner. My heart aches for you, my love.

  Hank, his father’s boss approached Stewart about a job immediately following his graduation. He would begin in an entry level position and learn all aspects of the business. The days were long, working with the other men with a hammer and shovel. Although Stewart found the work physically exhausting, his breaks were spent speaking with the engineer.

  After six months of proving himself, to his delight, Stewart was given the opportunity to work alongside the engineer. Willard was equally thrilled.