“It is difficult for a child to watch a loving couple choose another to join their family,” Adam admitted, keeping his voice to a slight whisper. “Every child wishes to be adopted. As children age, well, most couples prefer babies. Unfortunately, the children become aware of that fact at a young age. Healthy newborn babies do not remain in this building very long.”
“Newborn?” Hope inquired.
“As you saw with the child upstairs, our doors are open to anyone in need. We provide medical assistance for the birth. Older children may arrive when family members are not able to care for them. It is our goal to find a loving family for each child. This building offers the children a safe haven.”
They spent the remainder of the day working with his parents and the volunteers. The study room was tidied, and she assisted as they served supper.
“Thank you so much for allowing me the opportunity to see the orphanage.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Hope,” Mrs. Venderkemp responded. “You are welcome anytime.”
Hope waited outside the office as Adam retrieved her school supplies and then followed him out of the building. He saw her safely onto the train and waited until it pulled out of the station. She took her seat on the train, looked out the window, and waved at Adam.
Reflecting, the experience had a profound effect on her. In her youth she had been taught to respect others, but not the true meaning of the word. Wealth did not buy happiness. Adam’s family was poor, but they were loving, honest, proud people. She was humbled to know them. Owning the prettiest dress didn’t matter. “I will dedicate the remainder of my life to assisting others, something Momma would have done given the chance,” she mumbled to herself. It was a day she would never forget.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Stewart stopped the buggy close to the train platform and gave Brodie a rub on her shoulders, patiently waiting for the train. It finally arrived. He removed his hat and watched as the patrons stepped down. Hope lifted the skirt of her blue floral dress and ran toward the buggy.
“Is Izabella ill?” she asked.
He assisted her to the seat beside him and waited until she greeted Brodie with a scratch on her head.
“Nay. We’ll see her tomorrow. Did you complete your errand?” he asked, hoping to open the conversation.
“Yes,” she admitted, and then turned her attention back to Brodie.
During the quiet ride home Stewart debated on asking about Hope about her day. But, he could hear Vicki, Izabella, and his parents’ voices in his head. Fine. I admit it. I don’t possess an ounce of patience when it comes to Hope and her happiness. Talk to me, Hope. She chatted, but not about the errand.
Stewart walked the horse into the barn and took Brodie for a short walk around the property. Locking the door for the evening, he heard Vicki and Hope’s voices in the kitchen. Their conversation was nothing of significance. He wandered up the steps to the second floor and entered his room. With his door closed, he worked his way to his nightstand, picked up the picture of Natasha, and sat on his reading chair. “Help me! I beg of you,” he whispered. “Hope needs her momma. If you were alive, we would discuss this, walk into her room, and I would be the supportive father as you spoke in your subtle way. I’m blunt, Natasha. I don’t know how to begin the conversation. I’m certain she would be running to her momma regarding this young man.”
* * *
With the excitement of the day still fresh in her mind, Hope wanted for her father’s full attention. She didn’t want him concentrating on steering the horses, or waving to acknowledge people he might recognize. It was difficult, but she remained silent during the journey home. Hope chatted to Vicki about an incident at school while she ate her dinner. She considered telling her aunt about her experience, but wanted her poppa to be the first to learn about Adam. Once they finished cleaning the kitchen, Vicki left to find Greg. Not wanting to wait another minute to tell her father about the orphanage, Hope dashed out of the kitchen. In her haste, she didn’t see Brodie until she tripped on her.
Yelp.
“Sorry. I’m so sorry, Brodie.”
She rubbed the dog’s head and then rushed up the steps to her father’s bedroom. Forgetting her manners, she opened his door and barged in.
* * *
The dog’s yelp startled him. Listening, he didn’t hear anything else. “Greg must be playing with the Brodie. He could have stepped on her paw, or her tail.” He turned his attention back to his deceased wife’s photograph. “You promised support, and have guided me, but this matter is of importance. I don’t feel your presence—”
His door flung open without a knock or any indication of an impending interruption. Hope dashed in with Brodie right behind. He couldn’t recall seeing his daughter as excited in some time. Brodie’s tail waged exuberantly. She’s going to break something. “Brodie,” he commanded. “Settle.”
“I enjoyed my day immensely, Poppa,” Hope blurted out, bubbling with enthusiasm. “I have become acquainted with a student in my English Literature class.” She stood by his chair. “Adam Venderkemp is intelligent, kind, and compassionate. I’m certain you shall adore him.”
She spoke so quickly, Stewart struggled to comprehend all her words. He never questioned his daughter’s ability to talk when she was excited, but at this particular moment, he questioned her ability to breathe.
“His family owns and manages The Venderkemp Orphanage, Poppa,” she continued. “It’s the orphanage where you and Momma volunteered. In all my years, I have never felt as humbled and blessed, knowing I have a family who loves me. I’m yearning to dedicate my life to helping others. To helping children.”
She finally stopped for much needed oxygen.
“Sit, please.” Hope sat at the end of his bed and he joined her. “You met this young man at school?”
“Yes. Adam Venderkemp,” she repeated, slowing the pace of her words. “You shall find him pleasing once you are acquainted.”
A flashback consumed his mind. Natasha, eager to speak to him after spending time at the orphanage. His wife and daughter shared the same passion, it seemed. Hope described her first meeting with Adam. She spoke of eating their meals as they studied and finally discussed her experience that afternoon.
“Momma cherished her time at the orphanage, and I feel the same enthusiasm. I believe the moment I entered the building my life changed,” she concluded.
Is her passion for the orphanage, or for Mr. Venderkemp? “This young man has touched your heart like no other.”
“Indeed. I believe so, Poppa.”
His little girl was falling in love. He couldn’t procrastinate any longer. The hour had come for the dreaded talk. His palms went clammy. Praying for the appropriate wording and phrases, he took a deep breath in preparation for the uncomfortable and awkward discussion. Raising his eyebrows, he looked into his daughter’s sparkling eyes.
“I’m so pleased. I fear the time has come for a discussion regarding Adam.”
“Indeed,” she replied. “I shall inform you to the best of my knowledge.”
Ugh. She didn’t comprehend his meaning. This wouldn’t be easy.
“No,” he corrected, shaking his head. “About men and women and emotions.” He paused. “And,” he paused again. He could swear his heart would burst from the confines of his chest. “Becoming with child,” he blurted out.
Hope’s faced turned scarlet red. Her hands flew up to cover her face.
No, I’ve embarrassed her. That was not my intent.
She chuckled. Lowering her hands, she looked at him. Mocking him.
“Poppa. I’m an adult, attending university.”
“Hope Elizabeth. I’m appalled. You should be chastised. You haven’t spoken of a beau until this moment, yet you have entered into an intimate relationship with this young man.”
Hope’s jaw dropped. The flushed colour returned to her face. She shook her head very quickly. “No,” she argued. “No-o-o. Adam is a proper gentleman. You�
��d approve of every moment we’ve spent together. I chuckled because Aunt Vicki and I conversed years ago. After I read Momma’s diary. I love you, Poppa, but I needed a female perspective.”
“I must thank your aunt. I dreaded the topic so much I procrastinated.”
“Poppa. I had assumed you asked Aunt Vicki to speak with me. I did catch the interest of a few boys.”
“I was waiting for a serious relationship,” he remarked, justifying his reasoning. “I hope I’ve raised a respectable young lady.”
“You have, Poppa,” she assured him. “You were fortunate to recognize the love you shared with Momma at such a young age.”
“Indeed we were. I cherish every moment we shared. My love for Natasha brought you into my life. My dearest Hope.” He placed his arm around her shoulders. “Open your heart and speak of this young man.”
Words spilled from her lips with enthusiasm and admiration. Able to feel Natasha’s presence, he closed his eyes for a brief moment. Thank you. Natasha had given her approval for Hope’s beau.
“I wish to become acquainted with your friend. You must arrange a time.”
“I shall speak with Adam, but he works after school and weekends.”
“I recall my time volunteering at the orphanage and appreciate how busy they are. Suggest a lunch. If that cannot be accommodated, perhaps a stroll in the afternoon. I will ensure he is not tardy returning.”
“I shall try. Once a date is confirmed, I wish to invite Izabella. It would please me to have Adam meet both of you.”
“She’ll be honoured to join us, sweetheart.”
As Hope stood, Stewart thought of his journal. From the day Momma suggested he record his thoughts, the intent was to allow Hope to read it. “Hope. If you please, I require another minute of your time.” He stood and walked over to his nightstand. Removing the book, he returned to his bed. “Years ago, you were given the opportunity to read your momma’s diary. I didn’t speak of my journal. Shortly after your momma passed, Nana suggested I write about my day, my thoughts. This is my attempt at a diary. I’m an architect and an engineer, not an English Literature major. That will be obvious once you begin reading. I have the words of your momma’s diary embedded in my mind, but I’m not capable of writing from that depth of my soul. As you read my journal, it would please me if you were to write your thoughts. Things you recall.”
“Oh, Poppa. I’m so pleased.”
Hope’s face brightened with her smile. He questioned keeping the journal when Momma mentioned it years earlier, but now he was grateful he took her advice.
“Your life is about to take on a new direction. Write about your day.”
“I shall begin reading and writing immediately, just as you did in Momma’s diary—” she stopped abruptly. “You would be able….” Her focus shifted to her lap. “To read my words. To know my thoughts. I love you, Poppa, but now that I have someone special in my heart, my thoughts are, um, well, private.”
Considering some of his own entries, he pulled the book tight against his chest. He had written of Izabella. There was nothing in his relationship that ashamed him, but he did not want his daughter reading all the entries. As Natasha had experienced, writing was an escape, allowing him to describe feelings and emotions he wasn’t comfortable vocalizing. It has become part of his daily routine. Stewart had no intention of stopping something so gratifying. His notes about Izabella weren’t meant to be shared.
“I could start my own journal … no, we must trust each other,” Hope clarified.
“I shall re-read my notes and place a mark. I expect you to stop reading at that point. I’ll respect your privacy, and you must respect mine.”
“We possess the blunt Donovan gene, Poppa. If we cheat and begin reading, details may slip. I promise. I will not read beyond your mark.”
Stewart chuckled. “That is true. I would never risk losing the rapport we share. I promise too. Open your heart and allow your emotions a release. I enjoy writing and am certain you shall as well. Many evenings I sit and talk to your momma before writing. Perhaps, someday, we shall show this journal to your children.”
Hope giggled. It was a wonderful, innocent giggle.
“Speak with Adam. I wish to become acquainted with this young man.”
Left alone in his room, Stewart’s mind drifted back to his days at the orphanage. He recalled meeting Adam’s grandfather his first day. He had a vague memory of the son, Adam’s father. The memory brought a smile to his face. Then he thought of Natasha, so happy and content while working at the orphanage. After graduating, returning to the orphanage was her one and only wish. A wish that was denied to her. A single tear escaped leaving a streak down his cheek.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Stewart’s heart fluttered with excitement when Izabella arrived the next day. He hurried toward her and assisted her from her buggy. After a quick glance to ensure the crew was focused on their task, he kissed her cheek. With a second glance, he dared another stolen kiss.
“You were missed last evening, but Hope took advantage of the opportunity to speak with me in confidence. The young man has a name. Adam Venderkemp.”
“I don’t recognize the name.”
“I did. His parents run an orphanage. Hope is attempting to arrange an invitation for me to meet with them over the weekend. She has requested your presence. I’m grateful she spoke of this in private. I found myself humiliated,” he admitted. He took her hands in his.
“What did you say, my blunt friend?”
“I suggested a need to converse. About men and women.” He stopped, embarrassment strangling him in Izabella’s presence. “And….” He continued to struggle, unable to vocalize the words.
“Stewart. I beg of you, please tell me this was not the first discussion on this topic.”
He closed his eyes, raising his index finger.
“Hope has been courted by a number of men,” Izabella unnecessarily reminded him.
He opened his eyes and looked at her. “As a father, it’s not a comfortable conversation. Vicki spoke to her regarding…,” he dropped his gaze, “female issues,” he managed. He tilted his head slightly to look at her. “I was so relieved I procrastinated on the discussion of men.”
“Oh my. I can’t imagine having that discussion with my father. A young lady does not wish to discuss these things with a male figure in her life. But, as her father, you should have initiated the discussion on reproduction. It pains me to remind you, and I’m aware it has not occurred in your recent past, but the process involves both males and females.”
Was it her intent to be witty? He wasn’t certain. They hadn’t discussed things in those terms. He wasn’t prepared to ask for her hand in marriage at this point in the relationship. There would still be three people in any such arrangement until he reconciled his heart to the fact that Natasha was truly gone.
“With the number of beaus that have entered her life, I’m confident Hope has been kissed. It is a wonderful, beautiful step in a relationship, but an innocent one. I didn’t feel the need to open the discussion about reproduction until Hope became acquainted with someone special.”
“Vicki spoke with Hope?”
He nodded. “I was proud the day I first held Hope in my arms, and looked forward to more children. With a son, I would have spoken to him before he began courting. It is different with a daughter. I wish to see her happy and loved, but as her father I wish to keep her young and innocent forever. Natasha was to speak with our daughters. I know that’s not possible, but twenty years ago, I wasn’t planning to raise Hope as a widowed father. I shall be eternally grateful for the relationship Hope shares with Vicki.”
“You’re Hope’s father, and with that come responsibilities. You must accept the challenges as well as the rewards.”
“How does a father discuss such topics with a daughter? I’m a blunt man, but words fail me when I search for the correct way to approach this conversation.”
Izabella chuckled, and th
en raised his hand to her lips.
“It’s not a laughing matter,” he lectured. “I find this conversation extremely awkward.”
Izabella’s chuckle intensified. They had been courting almost a year. Both widowed. Was she expecting or hoping their relationship would progress beyond a kiss goodnight? Being honest with himself, he was also hoping for more at some point. The real question was the timing. Was Izabella ready? He wasn’t. He cherished her company and didn’t wish to lose the pleasure of her companionship. It had been months since they spoke of the possibility of further intimacy between them.
“The location is not the best for speaking of this,” he admitted, looking toward his working crew. “I wish to continue this conversation in private.”
* * *
Stewart followed Izabella to her house, fed the horses while she changed, and then assisted her onto his buggy before travelling to his home. After dinner, Stewart suggested they take Brodie for a walk. Hand in hand, they strolled to the pond, with the dog making forays into the surrounding woods. Stopping, he turned to Izabella and kissed her hand.
“I wish to continue our discussion from earlier today. In particular, the discussion about our relationship. I hope someday to be more than your friend.”
“As I do.”
Stewart remained silent, hoping Izabella would continue, and give him some idea of what she was thinking. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, but no comment was forthcoming. The problem had plagued him since they spoke at the site. It would keep him awake at night if they did not come to some sort of understanding. It couldn’t be avoided any longer. Inhaling deeply, he prayed he was not opening emotions he was not prepared to deal with.
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