“Jane prepared a wonderful meal,” he replied, sitting beside her.
“I beg of you. Tell me you have kissed her,” she pleaded.
His jaw dropped. Hope! He moaned. “I will tell you no such thing. That’s personal,” he replied.
“Poppa. Please.”
I will remember these conversations when you begin courting. “You shall regret your persistence when you’re older,” he warned.
Hope’s face lit up. “Jane must have been pleased when you declared your affection.”
Stewart’s heart sank. This was not a conversation he wished to have at bedtime, but it was unavoidable. He would never lie to her. Adjusting his position, he looked into her eyes.
“I haven’t kissed her, nor will I ever kiss her.” The glow disappeared from Hope’s face. His heart broke. “Jane is a beautiful, wonderful person,” he continued, “but she does not touch my heart the way your momma did. I’ve attempted to allow my feelings to develop, but nothing has changed.” Hope remained silent, disappointment evident in her expression. “Your momma was beautiful, but she was also intelligent, compassionate, spontaneous, and in her own way, witty. She possessed amazing attributes, each of which I fell in love with. She was spunky, as you are.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “To this day, I still recall every moment I shared with your momma. I recall our first kiss. It was truly a momentous occasion, a beautiful memory that I hold deep in my heart. Jane isn’t capable of capturing my heart as your momma did. We won’t be seeing each other again.”
“You’ve been courting Jane for months!”
Stewart closed his eyes nodding. “I left Jane in tears this evening, and I regret the pain I caused her. I have been lying to myself. I’m not capable of making her happy.”
“You’re not grieving this loss?”
“No, nor will I. I’m relieved.”
Hope leaned over and embraced him. The weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders. She supported his decision.
“You shall fall in love with the next woman you meet,” she whispered.
Stewart didn’t respond. He couldn’t, doubting there would ever be another woman to touch his heart.
Chapter Nineteen
A few weeks later there was a faint knock on Stewart’s bedroom door.
“Poppa, may I come in?”
“Of course.” He leaned over the side of the bed and placed his book on the nightstand.
The door opened. Hope appeared in her white dressing gown and shawl. She sat on the edge of his double bed.
“I’ve been thinking of Momma and the stories you’ve told me. I’m aware Nanny raised her, Uncle Marcus, and Uncle Joshua, but you never speak of her father. Is he in heaven with Momma? I’d like to hear about you and Momma.”
Stewart pushed himself further up on the bed. Vivid memories of Natasha swept over him. He looked at the bedspread covering him. “That was a lifetime ago, sweetheart.”
“I’m certain you recall every detail.”
His attention shifted to Hope’s eyes. Although it would be difficult to speak of the past, he feared she would discover the truth through Anna. It would devastate Hope to discover he’d deceived her. He would lose her trust, the bond they shared. I cannot, will not risk that. She deserves to know the truth from me. I must relive my past. He closed his eyes, dread consumed him.
“Every detail,” he admitted. He opened his eyes. “The day I saw your momma, I became captivated with the desire to make her acquaintance.”
They both had teary eyes when he finished the entire tale of their relationship.
“Oh, Poppa,” Hope sobbed. She leaned over and embraced him. “Why would Nanny agree to assist her?”
“Don’t be upset with Nanny. I’ve forgiven her, and you must as well. Your momma believed in her heart we would find happiness.” He paused for a moment. “Eventually, her father would have…,” Stewart stopped speaking, forcing himself to keep his negative opinions to himself. “It was difficult attempting to rebuild our lives knowing she had gone to heaven. If your momma were alive, she would be in a prearranged marriage and not happy. Perhaps she would be living in seclusion, having lost her father’s trust. She would be grieving.” Would I be alive today? I could have died fighting for her. Hope most certainly would not have known his family. He shook the negative thoughts from his mind. “I do not care to think of a future we didn’t live.”
“Auntie Anna is a queen?” Hope questioned in disbelief. “Momma’s mother. My Auntie Annie is my grandmother?”
“The woman that you have grown to know is very different from the woman Natasha called mother. I’m informed regularly she cherishes her time with you.”
“And Momma’s poppa?”
Discussing Natasha’s father, the former king, would be more difficult. Stewart detested the abdicated king. His search caused Natasha to end her life. But, Stewart had decided years ago that he would give Hope the option of meeting her grandfather once she was older.
“It was your momma’s wish that her father did not make your acquaintance.” Looking at Hope, she was no longer his little girl. She was growing and maturing before his eyes. “My goodness, Hope, you’re almost thirteen. You have the right to choose.” He stopped himself. His personal hatred of the man had not decreased one iota. He did not wish to meet the man Natasha detested. “I don’t intend to have anything to do with the man that caused your momma such pain and unhappiness. I don’t care to meet Anna, either.” The painful memories flooded his mind. Feeling his eyes swell with tears, he turned his head and stared out the window into the dark night. His mind drifted to the diary. Would Hope have interest in reading the diary? To read details of his relationship with her mother. Over the years Stewart had felt a warm sensation in his body whenever he had Natasha’s approval. He closed his eyes. Natasha, is Hope ready for the content? You know our daughter better than I. He didn’t feel a strong sense of her presence. Natasha was not granting her approval. Perhaps you believe Hope is too young to read the adult thoughts. “Your resemblance to your momma amazes me. If you possessed brown eyes and hair you would be a mirror image.”
Hope leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“Nanny and Marcus often speak of Anna’s comments. Your grandmother cherishes her time with you. She wishes she had developed the same bond with your momma.”
“I would like to tell Anna and Nanny I know the truth about Momma.”
“That’s fine, but Hope I beg of you, do not speak of this conversation to your school chums. Your momma wasn’t proud of her position. It isn’t necessary for your chums to know of your relationship with the castle.” He sighed. “We’ll discuss this later. It’s been an emotional evening, and you will see Nanny, Anna, and perhaps Uncle Marcus tomorrow. Your Uncle Joshua is out of the area on business. Upon your return, Nanny and her sister, along with Marcus and his family, will be dining with us.”
* * *
Nanny arrived shortly after lunch and joined Stewart on the sofa.
“Hope and I have discussed Natasha in detail. She is aware Anna is Natasha’s mother.”
“I’m pleased you informed her. Anna wishes to become acquainted with you.”
“No,” Stewart responded bluntly. “No. I have no desire to meet her. She is fortunate to have a relationship with my daughter.”
* * *
“Time heals wounds, but to open your heart to Natasha’s parents? That would be tough knowing what their actions did to them,” Keeghan admitted.
Alexander nodded.
“Will is easier going than me. In the same situation, he may have been willing to forgive them, but not me. I hold grudges.”
“She’s lovable, but don’t piss her off,” Will warned their new friend.
* * *
Vicki was unusually quiet as she prepared the evening meal. She became grumpy while they ate, which in Stewart’s mind was very uncharacteristic for his sister. Later that night, Stewart noticed Vicki sitting alone in the library workin
g on some embroidery.
“Vicki. Are you alright? Are you well?”
“Leave me be,” she snapped.
He returned to the parlour to join Hope and Brodie.
Stewart tossed and turned most of the night. His mind remained consumed on his sister’s well-being.
The following morning, Greg was working on a proposal when Stewart entered his office. He shut the door and sat on the chair across from his brother-in-law. “Do you have a moment?”
“Certainly,” Greg responded, looking up at his boss.
“Although I never appreciate interference in my personal life, I’ve noticed Vicki isn’t herself. I fear you’re experiencing problems of the same nature. One word from you and I shall be silent on this topic, but if I’m able to assist in any way, you must inform me.”
Greg put his pen down, turned in his chair, and stared out the window.
“It is not our marriage. She is depressed, and I am unable to help her,” Greg replied mournfully. “Vicki had been hopeful of late, but recently discovered that she is not with child.”
Stewart’s heart sank. He recalled the day vividly in his mind. She was planning to start a family shortly after they wed. The conversation had slipped his mind. Knowing the amount of time she spent with Hope, he could understand her desire to share a child with the man she loved.
“Every month she is eager for positive news,” he continued. “We were certain this time, and yet we’re disappointed again.”
“God willing, she will make a wonderful, loving mother,” Stewart whispered in sympathy.
“Indeed, but God does not appear willing.”
* * *
Yet to change into his night attire, Stewart was still in his trousers and shirt when a knock sounded on his bedroom door. He never moved from his chair, but placed his book on the table.
“Come in, Hope,” he responded.
The door opened slightly. Vicki peeked inside. “I’ll come another time if you’re expecting Hope.”
“Not at all, Vicki. We’ve spoken for the evening.”
Leaving his bedroom door open, she sat in the second chair, on the other side of the window, and held the shawl covering her dressing gown in place.
“We’ve not spoken in private in some time,” she confessed.
“Indeed we have not. Now that Hope is older, more of my evenings are spent in her company, and yours with Greg. Where is your husband?”
“He returned to the office for a form he requires in the morning. He’ll return momentarily.”
Vicki stood, walked to his dresser, and picked up the framed picture of Hope from the previous year.
“Natasha would be proud of her angel.”
He stood and went to her side and placed his arm around her shoulder.
“I’m fortunate to have had the opportunity to watch Hope grow,” she continued. “I couldn’t love her more if she were my own.”
“In her heart, you’re more than an aunt.”
“Life is ironic,” she admitted. “I love Greg with my entire being, but am unable to bear his child. Natasha conceived your child, but was unable to remain by your side to raise her. Together, we are the perfect family.”
“I pray for the opportunity to be with Natasha one last time, but I thank God daily for the time we had. We were blessed to conceive a child. Hope is my future, my reason for living.” He paused and looked at Vicki. “In my heart I believe God is awaiting the perfect opportunity to make you a momma. The appropriate time.”
“Appropriate time? An interesting phrase, my dear brother. Is God waiting for an appropriate time to introduce you to someone special? I had hoped Jane would touch your heart.”
A vision of Jane filled his mind. The tears in her eyes the evening he ended their relationship. He took a deep breath. Returning to his chair, he looked out the window into the dark night. Vicki sat on the second chair.
“As did I in the beginning. Now, I have no desire to fall in love again. I cringe when I have to admit I didn’t find Jane attractive when I know in fact she was beautiful. I should have been proud, walking into the concert with Jane on my arm, but insisted she walk ahead of me. I would have been more content escorting my daughter. The passion in my soul was buried in the casket with Natasha.”
“Don’t say that,” Vicki pleaded. “You must open your eyes and your heart to the possibility of love.”
“You’re spending too much time with my daughter,” Stewart responded. “Those are Hope’s words.”
“Perhaps you should listen to her.”
“I look at Hope and see her mother. I spent time in Jane’s company and my heart yearns for Natasha.”
Vicki took his hands in hers. “A piece of your heart will remain with Natasha for all eternity, but I pray you meet a wonderful woman. Promise me you will open your heart and mind to the possibility.”
Stewart took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I would love to have my heart filled and experience the passion we shared. I must be grateful Natasha came into my life. My memories will last a lifetime, and Hope is a beautiful, constant reminder of the love we shared.”
“Hope is the reason for my visit. She is becoming a young woman. Her body will be changing. You must speak with her.”
The meaning of his sister’s words entered his mind. Stewart’s stomach turned over. His hand went to his chest. Vicki laughed.
“I require guidance. You must assist me,” he pleaded. “The conversation I had with Poppa was different.” His mind and body flooded with anxiety. “As a husband, I appreciated Natasha’s body and was aware of her,” he fought for the words, “occurrences, but, how is a father to discuss that?” He stopped, and then buried his head in his hands.
“Stewart. She will be horrified or believe she is ill and dying unless she is informed it’s a natural occurrence. One that will continue monthly for years.”
He peeked through his fingers. “I must confess, I have not considered the,” he stopped, struggling once again for appropriate wording, “female discussion. Hope will eventually read Natasha’s diary, which should help with the discussion about boys, and yet I still dread raising the topic with her.” He tilted his head and stared at the ceiling. “Natasha, I need you. Hope needs you. I would have spoken with our son if we had one. If she has questions,”—his face heated—“I lack the details.” He placed his hands on his burning cheeks.
“Please, approach the topic with tact. Don’t be blunt,” Vicki begged.
Stewart glared at his sister. She requested the impossible.
“I will speak with her,” Vicki stated quickly. “I cannot imagine this discussion with our poppa. Hope will appreciate a female perspective.”
Feeling the weight of the world lift from his shoulders, Stewart leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I shall be eternally grateful, Vicki.”
A half hour later, they were still conversing.
Woof.
“I believe your husband is home.”
Chapter Twenty
Stewart dreamed about Natasha. Out for a walk, they had a long talk about his career, his life, and their daughter. Waking, he relaxed in bed, pondering. Hope was far more mature than he wished to admit.
That night, during their evening visit, he rose from his chair and retrieved the diary from his night stand. As he held it in his hand, a warm sensation flooded his heart. Natasha approved. He sat on the edge of his bed next to Hope, took a deep breath, and held the book toward her.
“Your momma kept a diary, Hope. I have read it, many times, but have never allowed another to see it. To this day sections of the book bring tears to my eyes, and I was with her as the events took place.”
Hope never uttered a word. She took the book and held it tight against her chest.
“For years, your momma wasn’t able to discuss her emotions,” he continued. “This became her release. She wrote vivid details of her emotions, and our relationship. I cherish every moment we spent together. My only regret was not having more
children with her. I wasn’t aware the diary existed until after her death, but I know she intended for me to read it. In my heart, I know she would like her daughter to read it as well. It will help you understand the love we shared and her love for you. That book is not to leave this house, under any circumstance. I’d appreciate you not speaking of it to anyone but myself.”
“Of course,” she whispered.
Stewart watched her open the first page of her mother’s handwriting. Her lips curled slightly.
“Do not speak of the diary to Anna. It’s not meant for her eyes. I will not allow her to read it.”
“Nay. I won’t. I wish to begin reading this evening.”
“There will be a big family gathering tomorrow evening. Uncle Joshua is home, and he and his family will be coming to dine along with Uncle Marcus’ family and Nanny and her sister. Goodnight sweetheart. I love you.”
“I love you, Poppa.”
* * *
Two weeks later, with theatre tickets in his pocket, Stewart stood at the front door, looked at his pocket watch, and then out the window. Greg, you should be home by now.
“Stewart. Are you ready to leave?”
Stewart jumped. Turning, he watched Vicki walk down the steps in a yellow gown.
“Hope will be down in a moment. I have left a warm plate for Greg.”
“I didn’t expect this negotiation to continue past the dinner hour.”
“Nor did Greg, but he won’t be pleased if we miss the concert. I would hate to be tardy and miss the beginning of the production.”
* * *
Hope stepped off the buggy, adjusted her navy gown, and followed her aunt into the building and to their seats. Stewart followed behind.
“It’s a shame Nana has the sniffles. She spoke of this concert on Sunday.”
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