Natasha's Diary

by Heather Greenis

  “With your academics, you have earned the right to apply. You have my support.”

  * * *

  On Monday, Izabella arrived with Vicki to share lunch. Izabella remained by his side when the hour was over, and Vicki left for the office.

  “I found myself restless last evening as I lay in bed,” he admitted, appreciating their privacy. “The kiss we shared last evening occupied my mind.”

  “You’re a passionate man, Stewart Donovan. That kiss left me burning with desire. My heart and my head are disagreeing regarding over the cautious approach to this relationship.”

  “As are mine.” Turning his attention from Izabella, he looked at his notes. “I’m not in the mood to be here. The morning has been slow, and I don’t see an improvement in the afternoon. Poppa and Greg are both at this site. This job does not require an engineer at the moment. I deserve a half-day off.” He turned his attention back to Izabella. “I wish to escape work and play today. As the owner of this company, I warrant the privilege. Would you care to join me?”

  “I had planned to go to the boutique, but I’m not on the schedule. I won’t be missed.”

  The moment Stewart closed the door to his home he put his arms around Izabella and kissed her. “I yearned to do that the moment I saw you today.”

  “Yet you didn’t act on it,” she joked, mocking him. “I thought perhaps you found my kisses were lacking.”

  “Never. I expect my employees to work while on the clock, not watch, envious of my position. They will cease to be productive if they become jealous.”

  “Go in haste and change,” she ordered with a chuckle, pointing toward the stairs.

  Stewart returned in casual pants and a shirt. They held hands and indulged in a long leisurely walk around the property. Returning to the house, they sat on the wooden love-seat swing. Within minutes, he had engaged her in a long, deep, passionate kiss. Izabella pulled back from the kiss with a gasp. Her face turned beet red.

  “My apologies,” Hope whispered.

  Stewart saw Hope standing at the opened door. “I was attempting to be quiet. That appeared to be a momentous embrace,” she informed her father.

  The heat rose in his face. Stewart closed his eyes. All he could do was chuckle.

  “Hope, I find myself envious of your youth and innocence,” Izabella remarked. She shifted her eyes toward him and back to Hope. “Indeed, the kiss your poppa and I shared was wonderful. What are your thoughts on the matter, Stewart?”

  Not about to disagree, he wished the kiss had continued. He nodded. Then he winked at his daughter before turning his attention back to Izabella. “Wonderful. An A-plus.”

  “A ‘wow,’ Poppa?”

  Stewart turned and looked at Izabella. “Natasha was a reader of fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and even the newspaper. Shortly after we met, she saw the word ‘wow’ in a poem and it stuck with her. Natasha used the term wow to describe the first kiss we shared.”

  “Ah.”

  “Well, Poppa?”

  “Yes, Hope. That kiss was most definitely a ‘wow.’”

  Hope left them and entered the house with a big grin on her face.

  * * *

  That night, after dinner, Stewart and Greg oiled the squeaky door. Hope and Vicki showed Izabella family pictures. His mind was not on the oil or the hinges, but preoccupied with his relationship with Izabella and his daughter. With their errand completed, Stewart entered the parlour.

  “Hope, I need to speak with you.” He led Hope to the library and sat on a wing chair across from his daughter.

  “I would like your opinion,” he began. “I had the good fortune to become acquainted with Izabella’s husband, Mr. Herrmann. I wish to speak to Izabella about Natasha’s diary, and to allow her the opportunity to read the book. Do you believe your momma would approve? Do you approve? It is not my intention to allow another member of our family to read it.”

  “Momma wouldn’t be upset by this, Poppa. She encouraged you to seek another relationship, but I appreciate you speaking with me.”

  “I wouldn’t offer it to her without asking your opinion. I’d be saddened if you became upset seeing it in her possession.”

  Hope embraced him and skipped out of the room. Stewart followed Hope back to the parlour. “Izabella, I’d appreciate a moment in private.”

  “My motive is admirable,” he assured her as he led her into his bedroom. Stewart released her hand, walked to his nightstand, and removed the book. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he motioned for her to sit on his reading chair.

  “You mentioned Natasha’s name earlier today while we were in Vicki and Greg’s company. This book is Natasha’s diary.” Stewart stared at the book, unsure how to begin. “It’s not my intent to ask you to read this, but to give you the option. Hope read this diary a short time ago. Momma, Poppa, Vicki, and Nanny know of its existence, but haven’t read it. If you’re interested, I will allow you the opportunity to read Natasha’s thoughts, her words. My only request is that the book stays within the walls of my home. It was written by my wife’s hand. I can’t lose it.” Closing his eyes for a moment, he clenched his hands together attempting to control his fluctuating emotions. He opened his eyes and looked at Izabella. “If I may speak plainly?”

  “Indeed. Of course.”

  “There are evenings my heart needs to see her handwriting, to feel her presence. I miss her. I can’t pretend I don’t.”

  Izabella reached for his hand and grasped it.

  “If you decide to read the diary, I’m certain you’ll understand why she’s still in my heart,” he continued. “It is kept in the drawer. You’re invited to read it at your leisure. Don’t feel the need to ask permission to come into my room to retrieve it, unless of course I’m indisposed,” he added, and then winked. He stood, placed the book into the drawer, and led her back to the main floor.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Months later, at the job site, Stewart had just greeted Izabella, when he noticed his daughter walking toward them.

  “It has been a long afternoon,” he admitted to Izabella. “Hope Elizabeth Victoria Dononvan received a package that I wish to see opened. It is from Picton University.”

  Izabella clenched her hands together in anticipation.

  After greeting his daughter with a kiss on her cheek, he removed the envelope from his back pocket and handed it to her. “This arrived for you,” he informed her.

  “It’s not opened?” she questioned.

  “It doesn’t bear my name. The surname Donovan doesn’t give me the right to open your mail.”

  “I’m nervous, Poppa. I really want to attend Picton. They’re strict with their admissions.”

  “That’s correct. They’re a reputable school. Their standards were high even when your momma and I attended.”

  Hope never moved. She stood frozen, staring at the envelope in her hands. The sight took him back in time to his own acceptance to university. That, and years later when the court document arrived formalizing his custody of Hope.

  “Hope,” Izabella begged. “You must open it and share the news.”

  Within seconds of removing the seal, her arms were around him. She squealed with delight. “I shall be attending Picton.”

  Dropping his clipboard on the ground, Stewart put his arms around her and swung her in circles. “I’m proud of you. You deserve this.”

  Once Hope’s feet were firmly on the ground, Izabella hugged her in celebration. “Congratulations. I’m so pleased.”

  Unable to contain her excitement, and eager to share the news, Hope ran around the site informing her aunt, uncle, and papa as Brodie barked exuberantly.

  That night, Stewart and Hope had a long discussion about university life. She considered staying in residence but feared a roommate similar to his. She decided to remain at home and commute the half hour journey by train.

  Nanny, Marcus, and Joshua were thrilled to hear Hope would be continuing her education at Picton, at their alma m
ater. Anna was less than pleased, reminding Nanny of the independent and stubborn disposition Natasha developed. How she became involved with a young man without their approval. Sitting in the parlour, Stewart listened as Nanny conveyed the concern, but he remained adamant with his original decision. “I will support my daughter in every sense of the word. You can inform Anna that Hope will be furthering her education at Picton University.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The new school year began. Within the first week at Picton, many young men struck up a conversation with Hope and indicated their interest in her company. Interested in friendships, she spoke with them all, remaining courteous and polite, but declined offers to go out with any of them.

  Three weeks later, Hope was in the school library seeking a reference book for an assignment. The book she required was on the top shelf. She brushed her blonde bangs from her forehead and tucked the loose stands of her wavy hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ears. Glaring at the book, she sighed. Obviously, five foot five inches is not tall enough in this library. Momma had Poppa to retrieve books from these shelves. She glanced at the long skirt of her yellow dress. Perhaps if I stand on the lowest shelf I will gain enough height to reach. I require my engineering poppa’s knowledge. Will this wooden shelf snap with my additional weight? There must be a stool somewhere. Taking a step back she studied the shelf, contemplating the best manoeuvre to retrieve that book.

  “May I be of assistance?”

  Hope turned with a start. A young man just over six feet tall stood beside her. He brushed his dark hair from his forehead and looked down at her. When he blinked, his long eyelashes accentuated his olive-coloured eyes.

  “Indeed, you may,” she acknowledged, thankful for the help. She pointed at the book and waited for it to be removed. “Both my professor and I thank you. Your timing is impeccable. I was considering placing my foot on that shelf but worried the books would fall on me. I’m able to picture the scene in my head. I would be buried by an avalanche of resource books. Your assistance would have been required to bring order to this row.”

  His eyes sparkled. She noticed the cutest dimple on his chin. Adam giggled showing the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

  “With that comment, I shall watch for you to enter this room and offer my assistance.”

  “My own private library assistant.” She beamed. “I shall be the envy of the student body. Allow me to introduce myself. Hope Donovan. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr….”

  “Adam Venderkemp. It is my pleasure, Miss Donovan.”

  “I beg of you. That is far too formal. I answer to Hope to my family and friends.”

  Studying his face, she recognized his features. He appeared her age, but he was working, employed by the school.

  “I must get back to work,” he announced.

  The moment she saw his profile, a memory flashed before her.

  “Pardon my intrusion, but I must ask,” she interrupted, attracting his attention for a second time. “I believe we attend a class together.”

  Adam stopped, turned, and faced her. “Indeed we do. English Literature.”

  “Of course, you’re normally one of the first students to arrive.” The slight smile on his face confirmed her memory. “I wasn’t aware students worked at the school while they studied,” she admitted, thinking out loud.

  Adam’s attention shifted to the floor. Her face turned flushed. She'd embarrassed him.

  “I’ve been accepted to study on a full scholarship,” he admitted quietly. “In exchange for books, I’m working in the library.”

  Her family was proud of the grades she received, but she hadn’t been offered a scholarship. As she considered the marks he must have achieved, the fact his family required financial assistance slipped her mind.

  “You must be proud of your accomplishment. Few students achieve grades that warrant a scholarship.”

  He responded with a non-committal expression. “I must return to work. It was a pleasure making your acquaintance.”

  Adam turned and walked away.

  * * *

  The image faded as Adam took his departure.

  “Alexander. You can’t leave the story here. You’ve just introduced a new character,” Keeghan protested.

  As he had done in the past, the narrator stood and walked off. An irritating clicking penetrated her thoughts. She turned her attention to Will and Constable. Neither had moved. Neither heard it. She cocked her head, thinking.

  “What is that sound?”

  Chapter Thirty

  Keeghan and William

  Soft tapping. Someone wants in. Who? It didn’t make any sense. Hope hadn’t been close to any windows, and it definitely sounded like a window. I’m under a tree with Will, Constable and Alexander. Constable is sleeping. Where is that sound coming from? More tapping. Why are my eyes closed? Keeghan opened her eyes and saw the back of Will’s head. Of course. I was dreaming. The tapping came quicker—louder. Looking toward the sound, a female cardinal moved up and down the bedroom window, pecking as she went. Too drowsy to lift her head from the pillow, Keeghan watched the feathered creature. She sees her own reflection. She thinks another female is attempting to invade her nest.

  “It’s your own reflection, you silly thing,” she informed the bird. “Your babies are going to be fine.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Will moaned.

  She looked toward her husband. He rolled onto his back and stretched.

  “The cardinal at the window.” She pointed. “If she keeps hitting her beak against the window she’ll get brain damage.”

  “Life will never get boring living with you, Keegh,” Will groaned and stretched again.

  “I’m glad you’re awake,” she responded. “I had another dream.”

  “Your eyes aren’t watering, and you appear rested. That’s a good sign. You liked my ending to the last dream and decided to move on to another topic.”

  “Not exactly,” she warned. “The saga continued. You were with me again. You sat beside me and watched the story.”

  Will pushed himself up to a sitting position, moved his pillow to the headboard, and leaned against it. “I’m glad you’re thinking about me, but I can’t say I remember the storyline. You were questioning whether Natasha committed suicide or faked her death. And the verdict i-i-s?”

  “Suicide.”

  “You’re mean, Keegh. First Natasha declined Stewart’s proposal, and then you kill her off.”

  “Yeah. Would you believe she actually blackmailed her mother from the grave?”

  “Get out! That’s an interesting little twist. So, did Stewart return after leaving with her body, or did you kill him as well?”

  “He came back. With the help of his parents and sister, Natasha’s Nanny and brothers, he raises his daughter Hope. Natasha’s mother is allowed monitored visits with her granddaughter, but her father never sees as much as a picture.”

  “Shit, I wouldn’t give either access. To hell with them.”

  “Stewart wasn’t too happy about it, but that was part of the blackmail. It was written in Natasha’s will.”

  “Seriously? Smart chick for the time period.”

  “Anyway, Stewart went back to school and started a business. Years after Natasha’s death, Stewart finally met a woman, Izabella.”

  “Hmm. It was nice of you to give Stewart some romance. I can’t imagine going ten plus years without a kiss goodnight or a snuggle.” He winked at her.

  She smiled. She had no complaints regarding their relationship. She told him the rest of her dream.

  “I like your ending. Stewart is happy, and Hope likes his girlfriend,” he continued.

  Although she had to agree it was a happy ending, she’d been introduced to a new character and was intrigued by him. It was obvious Adam was very different from the other guys Hope had met.

  “I’m curious to find out who Adam is,” she admitted.

  “Ke-e-egh. You left the dr
eam in a good place. Next.”

  She smiled in agreement. The only way to move on to another dream was to get her mind onto other topics. “You’re right. I have to focus on my store. There’s new inventory that needs to be unpacked and organized. It won’t sell if I don’t get it out of the boxes and displayed properly.”

  “I’m going to have a busy day as well. Jim and I have an early meeting coming up with what could turn out to be a high-value client. We need to spend part of our day going over our strategy. Under the heading of ‘you never know,’ this potential client is the father of one of my smallest clients. I met the client about eighteen months ago. He didn’t have two dimes to rub together. My supervisor at the bank would have questioned the amount of time I spent with him. The fool’s our age, Keegh. I spent way too much time giving him advice. I’m sure his previous financial advisor was grateful to be rid of him. Now, thanks to my advice, he has a small retirement savings. He’s still the lowest of my low-valued accounts.

  “Anyway, to make a long story even longer, he was so excited about his achievements, he told his father about us. Two days ago, Jim got a call from the guy’s dad. He scheduled an appointment to meet with me. Our first impression was ‘like father, like son,’ but we booked the meeting. My client called just before I left yesterday to give me a heads up about his father. As it turns out, in my client’s opinion, dear old dad is wealthy and knowledgeable, but doesn’t have the time to watch his portfolio. He’s thrilled we put his son on the right track. He wants to sit down with us and show us his investment statements. Jim’s ecstatic, certain there’s potential.”

  Thrilled for the guys, both Will and Jim were making a decent living, but a client with a large portfolio would boost their morale. With positive word of mouth, more high-value clients would come their way. If the portfolio was as large as they were expecting, the commission cheque could be substantial.