Natasha's Diary

by Heather Greenis

  She answered with a beautiful smile. “Yes. I would like that.”

  Jane walked off with a smile on her face. Hope returned to his side within seconds.

  “Did you ask her to dine?” she asked with a pleading tone.

  “Hope. Go off and play with Brodie. I have work to do.”

  “Poppa. I must know.”

  This is not an appropriate conversation for a father to have with his daughter. It is a potential romance. Wishing to avoid the conversation, Stewart turned his attention back to the building. Able to feel Hope’s eyes watching him, he couldn’t concentrate. It was impossible to focus. He turned and looked into her earnest blue eyes.

  “We are dining tomorrow evening,” he confessed in frustration.

  Hope’s smile brightened her face. “I’m so pleased, Poppa,” she squealed with delight. She reached up, kissed his cheek and ran off.

  Stewart looked up into the heavens. It’s impossible to keep information from her. In his heart he could feel Natasha smiling.

  * * *

  The meal was delicious, and Jane made a pleasant companion. When asked, Jane informed him she was in her early twenties, single, and living in the house next to her childhood home. When she wasn’t working as a nurse, she assisted her parents to care for her elderly grandmother.

  “And you?” she asked.

  “Widowed. The young girl you saw standing by my side is my daughter, Hope. Her momma passed when Hope was three. My parents and sister have assisted me to raise her.”

  The conversation continued.

  Stewart returned home and went up to his room. He was readying for bed when a firm knock rattled his door.

  “Poppa.”

  “Hope. You must give me a moment.”

  “I shall be in my room. You must come.”

  A few minutes later, dressing gown securely belted, Stewart knocked and entered the room. Hope was sitting up in bed with the covers up to her chest.

  “Patience is a virtue, Hope.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re worse than a parent. Did you enjoy your meal with Aunt Vicki and Uncle Greg?”

  “Did you enjoy your evening?”

  “Indeed, I did,” he replied calmly. Wishing to distract her, he switched topics. “How was your day at school?”

  “Did you kiss her?”

  Ugh. There was no doubt Hope was a true Donovan with her blunt mannerism, but he had to put a stop to her inappropriate inquiries.

  “Hope. That’s personal and unacceptable. We must discuss this behaviour. I’m aware of your desire to see me happy, but the events that occur while I’m,” he paused, wishing to give thought to his words, “entertaining, need not concern you.”

  “Are you planning to court her?”

  “I’ve accepted an invitation to dine at her residence tomorrow.”

  Hope’s face could light an evening sky. “I wish to make her acquaintance, Poppa. I beg of you. I shall be good. I won’t embarrass you.”

  Stewart raised his eyebrows. She looked heartbreakingly like Natasha making it difficult to refuse her.

  “We shall see.”

  “What is her name?”

  “Jane. Enough of this,” he remarked, putting an end to the discussion. “Restrict your remarks to your day at school and your time with Aunt Vicki and Uncle Greg.”

  Stewart closed his door for the night, removed his journal from his nightstand, and began writing. Although Jane was an attractive, personable woman, she wasn’t Natasha. He had difficulty writing details about his evening. After a short entry about his lack of emotions, he placed the book in the drawer and crawled into bed.

  * * *

  The following night, over dinner, Stewart and Jane partook in a lively conversation. They discussed their respective schooling, and he spoke with pride about his daughter and his business. Stewart returned home, walked up the steps, and opened Hope’s door. She was sleeping soundly with a novel on her lap. Smiling, he placed her book on the nightstand, pulled the blanket up to cover her shoulders, and kissed her forehead. Once in his own room, he sat on his bed, picked up Natasha’s portrait, and looked into her eyes.

  “Speak to me. My head knows I must move on, but my heart is stopping me. Hope has turned eleven, yet I still pray I’ll wake to discover this was a terrible nightmare.” He put the picture back on his nightstand and picked up his journal. He wrote four lines, including the date. “I can’t do this.” He closed the book, put it away and crawled into bed. “Jane will never see the journal.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hope was already at the table eating breakfast when Stewart entered the room with his mug of hot coffee.

  “Did you enjoy your evening with Jane?” she asked.

  Vicki entered the room, placing a glass of milk in front of her niece and a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her husband. Stewart could hear her chuckling.

  “Am I to expect competition in the kitchen?” Vicki enquired.

  Stewart glared at his sister. “Vicki, do not encourage this. She is incorrigible.”

  Vicki disappeared back into the kitchen. Stewart kissed the top of Hope’s head and took his seat at the head of the table.

  “Poppa, I beg of you. I didn’t hear you come home.”

  “You were sleeping. You must remember to place your novel on the table beside your bed. It is not designed as a sleeping companion.”

  Vicki reappeared with a plate for her brother and sat across from her niece to finish the food on her own plate.

  “Do you plan to see Jane again?” Hope asked.

  “Yes, on the weekend.” He winked at her, knowing she would be pleased with his next statement. “I plan to ask Jane to accompany me, us, to a concert.” He looked toward his sister. “Would you care to join us?”

  “Indeed. We shall be your chaperones.”

  Stewart’s focus shifted to the ceiling, already regretting the invitation.

  “Poppa. I cannot wait to meet Jane.”

  “The conversation is closed, Hope. Once you finish your breakfast, you must prepare for school. Eat.”

  * * *

  “Stewart.”

  Preoccupied with his notes on the current work project, he jumped at the sound of his father’s voice and turned. “Poppa. I didn’t know you were here.”

  “My apologies. I’ve heard a rumour that a member of the family has made a new acquaintance. The young, spunky one is excited, but her feelings in this matter are not our concern. Your momma hopes to hear of your evening.”

  Stewart looked the ground, unsure of how to respond. “To be honest with you, my feelings are mixed,” he admitted quietly. “My heart still yearns for Natasha. I wonder whether that will ever change. I fear she will be the only woman who touches my heart. Perhaps a person is fortunate to fall in love once.”

  “I pray that’s not true for you. Don’t become discouraged. As with Natasha, your heart will lead you in the proper direction.”

  Stewart would have appreciated some insight from his father, but without him becoming acquainted with Jane, that wasn’t possible. He took a deep breath and took a quick look around to ensure privacy.

  “I lack any desire for intimacy. My eyes see a beautiful woman, but in my heart, I see only an acquaintance. In the early years, I missed Natasha when we were apart, yet standing here, I’m not missing Jane at all.”

  “That’s not pleasing to my ears.”

  “In time, perhaps that will change, and I will cherish our time together.”

  “Your momma and I would be pleased to make her acquaintance. I must return to work. My boss is a fair man, but I fear I shall be fired for tardy work habits.” His father looked toward Greg. “My son-in-law shall tease, endlessly, if he is promoted to head foreman.”

  Stewart laughed. “The owner of the company would be a foolish man to lose such a talented worker, and his daughter would never forgive him.”

  * * *

  Jane accompanied Stewart to his parents’ home for dinner the following S
unday. Leaving the women to talk and tidy the kitchen after dinner, Stewart and his father sat on the sofa.

  “She is indeed a handsome woman,” Poppa remarked, handing Stewart a brandy.

  “Yes,” he responded, his voice only slightly above a whisper. He took a sip of the drink.

  “Your voice lacks even the slightest about of enthusiasm. She is the first woman you have courted in years. Don’t attempt to force emotions that don’t exist.”

  “Hope shall be devastated if I end this relationship. She often speaks of her desire for us to wed.”

  “Stewart. Hope will grieve if her poppa is not happy. I’m yet to see the Donovan twinkle in your eyes that I know exists. You must consider the feelings of both yourself and Jane.”

  Years earlier, Stewart fought to hide the sparkle in his eyes. Now, he wished it were evident, that a piece of his heart would ignite in response to Jane’s presence.

  “I can’t force it.”

  “My only advice is to ensure you are confident of your feelings. I don’t want to see you regret a decision.”

  Stewart swallowed another sip of brandy and then took a deep breath. His emotions were in turmoil, and it seemed he alone must sort things out. His world was awash in uncertainty.

  The family returned home from dining with his parents, and Stewart took Brodie for a walk while Hope went to her room. He took advantage of the time to ponder. It had been a wonderful evening, but Hope had remained silent in Jane’s company. There had been no connection between Jane and the daughter he loved so well. Wishing to discuss the evening while it was fresh, he returned home and knocked on Hope’s door. Entering, he sat on the edge of the bed, and looked at his precious daughter who had settled under the covers.

  “As promised, I didn’t embarrass you, Poppa.”

  “I didn’t recognize you tonight,” he scolded gently. “Where was my spunky daughter?”

  “I want Jane to like me.”

  “You didn’t give Jane the opportunity to get to know you at all. Promise me you’ll never attempt to become someone you’re not. You, Hope Elizabeth Victoria Donovan, are the reason I’m alive. I’m very proud of you.”

  Hope smiled. “Jane seems very pleasant. Are you falling in love with her?”

  Avoiding the question, Stewart stood, leaned over, and kissed his daughter’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, Hope.”

  “I do believe you will be happy with her.”

  “I love you, Hope. Good night.”

  “I love you too, Poppa.”

  Stewart walked out of her room and into his own, closing the door. Picking up the portrait of Natasha, he crawled onto the bed, leaned against the headboard, and held the picture to his chest. He looked upward. “My heart yearns for you. I close my eyes and I remember lying with you. I recall our last kiss at the door. I beg of you, Natasha. Lie with me, one last time.” He wiped the wet streaks from his cheeks, placed the picture on his nightstand, and took out his journal. It was late when he turned off the oil lamp and crawled into bed. He struggled to fall asleep.

  * * *

  Two months later, Stewart, accompanied by his family, escorted Jane into the orchestra level of the local theatre. Counting the blue velvet seats, he sat between Hope and Jane and spoke in whispers as they waited for the music to begin. The lights were dimmed in anticipation of the curtain rising. From the corner of his eye, Stewart saw Greg and Vicki holding hands. Jane’s hand touched his. A self-conscious smile tugged at his lips. Her touch was pleasing, but she wasn’t Natasha. He turned his head and saw Hope leaning forward, looking, staring. He quickly glanced toward the object of Hope’s attention. His daughter was gazing intently at a woman he didn’t recognize. There was nothing extraordinary about the woman that he could see.

  “Hope,” he reprimanded softly. “It’s rude to stare.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Too excited to settle, it was a long day for Hope. Jane would be joining the family for dinner and then attending the concert with them. It was another opportunity for her to see Poppa with Jane. She needed to see them together to decide if this woman would make him happy. Poppa rode off mid-afternoon to pick up Jane. Hope was in the parlour staring at the words in her novel.

  Woof.

  Hope turned her head and looked out the window.

  “They have arrived,” Hope informed her aunt and uncle.

  Watching the couple, Jane looked wonderful in her cream-coloured gown. The material flowed gracefully around her as she came up the walk. A strand of pearls gleamed around her neck, the perfect foil for the long black hair that floated on her shoulders. Jane is beautiful.

  * * *

  With their meal completed, Hope followed her aunt up the stairs and into her room. Hope slumped onto her bed.

  “I didn’t expect Poppa to continue hiding his emotions. He speaks with an open heart as he discusses his love for Momma.”

  “That didn’t occur initially. Your momma wished to keep silent. He didn’t speak of their relationship until she joined him at university. I believe your poppa is still unsure and waiting for his feelings to develop.”

  “As yours did with Uncle Greg?”

  “Nay. I was certain the day we became acquainted we would marry. But you must remain patient with your poppa. Now go to your room and change,” Aunt Vicki ordered. “We don’t want to be tardy.”

  * * *

  Hope took her seat beside Poppa and gazed around the theatre. As always, the women looked so beautiful in their gowns and jewels. A woman with thick layered auburn hair sat on the seat beside Jane. Hope admired the woman’s elegant pink dress, the strand of pearls around her neck, and her pearl drop earrings. Puzzled, she studied the woman. I know her.

  “Hope! It’s rude to stare.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. How embarrassing. I know that’s rude. Hope turned and looked toward the stage, hoping Nana and Papa didn’t hear her father. Her mind remained on the woman’s features. Who is she? Why do I recognize her?

  Hope spent the entire performance attempting to place the woman beside Jane. Normally she was able to recall names and faces. Now, her failure to do so annoyed her. The music ended, and the audience stood to applaud. Like magic, Hope’s mind filled with an image. Miss Izabella worked at her favourite boutique. She wasn’t accustomed to seeing her with her hair down or without a smile on her face. Hope turned to greet her friend. Disappointment consumed her. The seat was empty. Her papa led them into the lobby. When her father stopped to speak with a business associate, Miss Jane stood by his side. Bored by the conversation, Hope looked around the lobby. Her grandparents were speaking with another couple. Hope noticed her friend from the boutique standing in line for her coat.

  “Aunt Vicki,” Hope whispered in excitement. She pointed toward the line. “It’s Miss Izabella, from Valentines Boutique. We must greet her.”

  They left their family and walked toward the coat check.

  “Miss Izabella,” Hope called in a stage whisper.

  “Hope. Mrs. Carson. It’s a pleasure to see you.” A smile lit Miss Izabella’s face.

  They were chatting when Poppa appeared.

  “My apologies for interrupting. Hope, Vicki. The hour is late.”

  “Perhaps we shall meet at another concert,” Hope suggested. “Or the theatre.”

  Izabella chuckled. “Perhaps.”

  Hope returned to the family group with her hand securely in Poppa’s. They made their way out to where the buggy waited. She bade goodnight to her grandparents before they stepped into their respective buggies. Uncle Greg guided the team of mares to Miss Jane’s home. Hope watched Poppa assist his friend from the buggy and walk her to the door. Her eyes remained glued to the couple.

  “You must be patient,” Vicki whispered, interrupting her thoughts. “Jane is a beautiful, wonderful woman, but she does not possess any characteristics that are similar to your momma. I’m unable to tell if this is pleasing to your poppa.”

  Her father returned to the buggy and Gr
eg guided the horses home.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After finishing his day at work, Stewart led his team into town and looked at the schedule for the next concert. Informed good seats were available, he headed home.

  “There is another concert scheduled,” he informed his family during dinner. “The only Saturday performance is on the 21st. I plan to purchase seven tickets.

  Hope smiled gleefully.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Vicki admitted.

  “The 21st?” Greg groaned. “That is the date for my annual get together with my university chums.”

  “You enjoy those, Greg,” Vicki responded, taking his hand in hers. “Hope and I shall escort each other into the hall behind Momma and Poppa and Stewart and Jane.”

  * * *

  The concert was wonderful. The room brightened for the intermission.

  “Poppa, Aunt Vicki and I are going for a walk.”

  Stewart watched Hope make her way to the aisle. His sister was speaking with a woman. Content, he turned his attention back to the conversation between Jane and his parents.

  * * *

  The following week, Stewart arrived home earlier than usual after an evening with Jane. He tapped on Hope’s door and entered the bedroom to find her sitting up in bed, doing needlework.

  “Did you have an enjoyable evening?” she asked. The question had become routine. Amusement glimmered in her eyes.