Natasha's Legacy

by Heather Greenis

  “Nonsense,” Sarah responded. “First, I must ask if you are willing to be my attendant? If the children were a little older, I would have liked a flower girl and a handsome little man to accompany her.”

  “I’d be delighted to assist you.” Rose grinned at her husband.

  Papa Stewart kissed Sarah’s cheek and then embraced Alex. “I’m proud of you,” Papa whispered.

  When they finally managed to enter the building, Sarah telephoned her parents and Alex wandered up to his room to write a long, detailed journal entry while it was still fresh in his mind.

  * * *

  Three weeks later, with dinner almost ready, Hope washed her hands and wiped them on the apron covering her cream blouse and brown skirt. After speaking with a young boy in the hospital ward, she went to their private quarters. Stopping at her poppa’s door, she tapped and listened, but there was no response. She put a bit more strength into the second knock. There was still no response on the third knock. “Poppa, Izabella, it is time to dine.”

  “I will join you momentarily.”

  It was her father’s voice, but it sounded weak, strained. “Poppa?”

  Opening the door she saw her poppa sitting on the love seat with Izabella’s body leaning awkwardly against him. Even from the doorway she could see the wet steaks racing down her father’s cheeks, dampening Izabella’s hair as his head rested against hers. Izabella wasn’t moving. Hope’s hand went over her heart. She fought to take a breath. “Oh, Poppa. No,” she whimpered.

  Desperate to be strong for her father, she fought her emotions but the tears broke free and raced down her cheeks. Leaving the door open, she rushed to her poppa’s side, knelt down, and rested her head on his lap. “You didn’t call for me?” she questioned. “I would have been by your side.”

  “Izabella couldn’t get comfortable when we rested,” he sobbed. “She attempted to rise and sit on the sofa, but felt weak. I assisted her out here. Once on the sofa, she looked into my eyes, told me she loved me, and that we would meet again in heaven.” Poppa closed his eyes. Wet streaks soaked his cheeks and dripped onto his shirt. “She knew,” he sobbed. “It’s difficult to let go,” he admitted. “My heart hurts already from loneliness, yet she is still in my arms. I want to hear her laugh one more time. I need to see that beautiful smile.”

  Poppa placed his hand behind Izabella’s head and rested his lips against her forehead. A heavy sensation filled Hope’s chest. She struggled to breathe.

  “A-hem.”

  Hope saw Adam standing at the doorway.

  “How may I help, Stewart?” Adam asked.

  “I must notify Vicki and Izabella’s family.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Those are conversations you must have.”

  “I must notify her lawyer and … and Charles’ business associates.”

  “I will contact Doc, the lawyer, and the boutique,” Adam responded, his voice cracking.

  Adam entered the room, lifted Izabella’s limp body into his arms, and carried her out of the room.

  “Adam, no-o-o,” Poppa winced. "I need her."

  Hope and Adam had talked in great detail about the diary when he finished reading it. He was stunned by Poppa’s reaction to her momma’s death. Shocked to think he left with the morticians, leaving his baby girl with his parents.

  In Adam’s mind, mourning was natural, healthy, but it required the support of those left behind. A person did not remain with the body.

  Hope embraced her father. Tears flowed from both their eyes. She tightened her embrace when Adam reappeared without Izabella's body.

  “You left her alone?” Her poppa winced. Hope felt his heart pound against her chest. “Where is Izabella? I must remain with her. Allow me to hold her one last time,” he pleaded.

  Adam shook his head.

  “Poppa, no. We cannot allow that. Adam was right to take her body to another room. You know in your heart she’s with you.”

  He sobbed, struggling to breath.

  “Izabella is happy,” she reminded him.

  He nodded. “She was not in pain. She simply closed her eyes, fell asleep, and passed away while I sat with her. Closing my eyes, I feel her presence. I feel your momma’s presence as well. Natasha encouraged our relationship. They will become friends. In my heart, I know Charles, your momma, Izabella, and I will be the best of friends in heaven. I feel it in my heart, in my bones.”

  Hope nodded, her sobbing intensifying.

  “I must telephone—”

  “Allow Vicki and Greg to dine,” Adam interrupted. “They will not sleep well this evening. Allow them nourishment. We must go to Alex and Sarah. They are at the table, expecting us.”

  “Yes. Poppa, I insist you join us at the table.”

  The three walked into the dining room with bloodshot eyes. The food was barely touched, but they talked. Her poppa remained quiet during the meal, hurting, lost without Izabella.

  Hope followed her father into the office and offered support while he spoke with Vicki on the telephone. As expected, her aunt was devastated to hear she’d lost her best friend and promised to arrive within the hour. Ending the conversation with his sister, a telephone call was made to Izabella’s niece before Hope telephoned Rose. When the Carsons arrived, Vicki rushed to her brother. They were embracing when Rose and Richard arrived with the twins.

  Later that evening, Adam led their family to the attic and said a special prayer for Izabella. The children were assured their friend was happy and loved by God. Hope was still sniffling when she retired for the night. She sat by the window and wrote a long journal entry before crawling under the covers and snuggling into Adam's arms.

  “Izabella will be missed, Adam.”

  “Indeed. She was a remarkable woman.”

  Rising after a restless night, Hope wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and wandered down the hall.

  “Poppa’s door’s open?” Looking in, he was curled up on the love seat where they often sat. He had slept with a pillow under his chin, his head resting uncomfortably on the cushion. Izabella’s pillow was missing, but the bed hadn’t been touched. Her father had spent the night on the sofa. “I don’t have the heart to wake him.” Hope returned to her own room.

  After lunch, Hope stood at the office door while Alex contacted the priest, requesting a visit to make funeral arrangements and to postpose his wedding to Sarah. A new date was not discussed. To Hope, that was equally devastating. I cannot expect Sarah to plan a wedding while the family mourns and prepares for a funeral. Hope wandered up the steps to find Adam speaking with the doctor. He followed her to her father's sitting room. Poppa was on the chair, staring out the window.

  “I know Izabella desired a small and intimate service, but I’ve been told a large number of Charles’ business associates are inquiring about the arrangements,” Adam told them as they continued sitting at the table after dining. “The staff at the boutique want to attend. These people deserve the chance to mourn her death.”

  “I agree,” Hope admitted. “Poppa?”

  Her father never uttered a sound. He just stared at his lap.

  “A family member should speak at the service,” Adam stated. “It is the role of the head of the household, but….”

  “I would never expect either you or Alex to speak,” Hope assured him. “I will speak on behalf of the Donovans and Venderkemps.”

  With Alex and Adam settling the children for the evening, Hope changed into her sleeping attire, placed her shawl over her shoulders and went to the dining room. Sitting at the table, she stared at a blank piece of paper, struggling for the words and phrases for the eulogy. Adam entered the room, dressed for bed.

  “I have been attempting to write for an hour. My words are not doing justice to Izabella. As a friend of mine, she offered business advice and she supported us without judging as we raised Alex and Rose. Izabella became a best friend to Aunt Vicki and brought a sparkle to Poppa’s eyes. We were privileged to know and love her.”

/>   “Give me a moment to ponder.” Adam walked into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with two glasses of warm milk and sat across from her. “Over the years, I’ve read your journal entries. You’re capable of a far superior job than anyone in this building. You must close your eyes, open your heart, and picture Izabella from your first recollection. You must picture your favourite sales lady at Valentines. Now, close your eyes and take a deep breath.”

  Hope did as Adam suggested, filling her lungs with oxygen.

  “Write from your heart about your friend and father’s companion,” he whispered. “Write as you write in your journal, with the same passion.”

  Her mind filled with ideas. “Many thanks.”

  Adam stood and walked up the steps with his milk. The words began appearing on the paper.

  The entire family was attired in black as they sat in the church. Her poppa took his place between Hope and Vicki, holding their hands. He never uttered a word as the priest began the funeral service. When Hope stood to speak, Alex moved to the chair beside Papa Stewart. Hope stood at the pulpit and looked down to see her family. Rose and Sarah had the twins on their laps while Richard sat contently beside his wife. Sarah’s family and Richard’s family were behind them. Hope turned her attention to the paper and began speaking of Izabella’s wit, warmth, and intelligence. She spoke of Izabella’s life with her husband, Charles, and her life with their family. When Hope concluded the eulogy, sniffles could be heard throughout the room.

  The service ended and the family climbed into a buggy. Richard whispered to Alisha, attempting to keep her settled. Alex and Sarah were whispering about the service.

  “Poppa,” Rose cried.

  Looking up, they were passing the road to the Donovan site. Stewart remained silent, staring at the floor as Adam’s focus remained glued to the horses and the road ahead. Adam tightened his grip on the reins.

  Hope and Adam had discussed the burial the previous evening, knowing nothing had changed. They knew what Izabella wanted.

  “Poppa,” Rose cried again. “You missed the road. You must turn around.”

  Adam reached behind and touched Rose’s hand. Knowing Adam as Hope did, he was fighting back his own tears, attempting to remain strong for her and Stewart.

  “Izabella spoke of her desire to be buried in the Herrmann plot with her husband,” Hope finally managed to whisper, fighting to keep her voice steady.

  “No-o-o,” Rose pleaded. “Papa, you must remain with Nana Natasha and Nana and Papa Donovan.”

  Little Alisha began to whimper and then her twin began crying as well.

  Hope reached over and took Alisha from Rose’s lap, leaving her grandson with Richard. “He shall,” Hope assured her, struggling to keep her voice from cracking. “And Izabella shall be laid to rest beside her husband.”

  “Ugh,” Sarah whimpered. “Death is separating Papa Stewart and Izabella.”

  “No-o-o,” Rose cried. “I always presumed Izabella would be buried with our family.”

  Oh, this is difficult. You're tearing my heart in tiny pieces. “We must abide by Izabella’s request.” Hope sniffed, her voice cracking. “Izabella spoke of her desire to return to her husband’s side and we must honour that. Her soul must be content now that she has passed.”

  Sobbing filled the buggy. Rose and Sarah, Richard and Alex and the twins. This is the worst day of my life. Poppa clenched his eyes closed.

  Izabella’s casket was lowered into the ground beside her husband. Poppa tossed a single red rose onto the casket. Then he turned and walked back to the buggy. Alex and Sarah followed behind. Only Hope and Adam stayed to watch as dirt was tossed onto her box.

  “Rest in peace, my friend. You will be missed.”

  Returning to the orphanage after the service, Poppa retreated to his private quarters and closed the door. He didn’t join them for dinner that evening. The following morning, Hope knocked on his door.

  “Poppa, time for breakfast.”

  “I have the sniffles. I’ll remain in my room.”

  Later that day, Hope walked into her father’s bedroom. Seeing him sleeping soundly, she reached for the journal.

  “He hasn’t written a single entry since Alex’s engagement.” She took the book to her own room and began writing.

  Five days later, with Poppa still avoiding the children and their family, Hope telephoned Aunt Vicki. After a lengthy conversation, she told Alex, Sarah, and Adam they were required for a family meeting.

  Alex and Sarah sat on the edge of their bed and Hope joined Adam on their reading chairs.

  “We must assist Poppa. Vicki said he grieved and mourned after my momma passed, but regained his inner strength and was able to continue. To care for me, to continue his education, and then to establish the business. He missed Momma, but he did not stop living.”

  “Stewart lacks an incentive to continue,” Adam responded sadly. “His little girl has grown into an independent woman. Alex and Rose are independent adults. Although he loves the twins with all his heart, they are not his responsibility. The family legacy will continue without him. Natasha’s legacy will continue, living through those children.”

  “Papa Stewart must focus on something positive,” Alex announced.

  “Our wedding. Papa Stewart was thrilled you proposed and offered to contact the priest. He was pleased to know we planned to be married at the orphanage,” Sarah reminded them.

  Alex took Sarah by the hand and led her out of the room.

  Hope entered her poppa’s sitting room and worked her way to his bedroom. Unaccustomed to seeing her poppa in bed after dawn, she walked over to his side. He had placed pictures of both her momma and Izabella on his night table.

  “Good morning, Poppa. Rise and shine.”

  “I cannot get warm.”

  Hope leaned over the bed and kissed his forehead. “You have a slight fever.” She removed a blanket from the chest at the end of his bed and covered him. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  With the orphanage doctor confirming he had a slight fever, she sat with him until he drifted off to sleep. Rose, Alex and Sarah took turns, bringing warm soup and liquids and visiting while he was awake. Vicki and Greg came to visit later in the day and Matthew arrived after work.

  The following morning, Hope got out of bed as the sun was rising. With the door ajar, she heard a beautiful melody from the piano. Grabbing her shawl, she went to her father’s bedroom. He had pushed himself to a slight sitting position with his head and back resting against the pillow. Izabella’s death had aged him, but it was pleasing to see him smile. It was not poppa’s bright cheerful smile, but he was happy.

  “Good morning, Poppa.”

  Noting the pictures on the bed, she stepped closer for a better view. The photograph was of the three of them together. Her momma holding her and her poppa standing proudly behind.

  “I love you, Hope.” She barely heard his voice. “Your momma loves you. We are both so very proud of you.”

  Hope stared at him. In her heart, she knew he was dying but she could not imagine her life without him. “Poppa, do not speak of Momma as if she is with you,” she lectured.

  “Close your eyes and open your heart, Hope. She is by our side. I feel her love. I need her love. I miss her, and I’m ready to join her.”

  Over the years, her poppa had often spoken of feeling her momma’s presence, especially when needing her assistance or strength, but this was different. Poppa needed his family now. She sat on the edge of the bed and held his hand. “I love you, Momma, but you are not required today. Please, I beg of you, leave us.”

  “Your momma won’t leave without me, sweetheart.”

  I won’t allow you do die, Poppa. I can’t. Nana and Papa Donovan and Nanny are gone. Hope felt like a three-year-old child, desperate to hang on to her father.

  * * *

  “No-o-o, I don’t want Stewart to die,” Keeghan whined. “Damn it. I’m tearing up. I know he’s getting older, but I don�
�t want this to happen.”

  Will put his arms around her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Constable whimpered.

  “Nor did our family,” Alexander assured her. “Please allow me to continue.”

  * * *

  “Poppa, No-o-o,” Hope cried. “You cannot leave me. Izabella and Momma need more time to become acquainted.”

  “My heart yearns for your momma and for Izabella.”

  Hope noticed Adam at the doorway. Then he disappeared.

  “Alex, Sarah, come quickly,” Adam’s voice ordered.

  The music stopped and Adam reappeared. Squatting by the bed, Adam’s eyes were glistening, filled with tears. Reaching for Stewart’s free hand, he held it between his own as the tears streamed down his cheeks.

  “I am humbled to have known you,” her poppa said as he looked at Adam. “I am truly honoured to have had the privilege to call you my son. It is not possible for Hope to love a better man.”

  Hearing movement in the hallway, Hope looked up as Alex and Sarah entered.

  She heard Sarah sob.

  Adam released her father’s hand and moved to join Hope on the other side of the bed. Both Sarah and Alex knelt down beside the bed. Alex gripped his grandfather’s hand.

  “We’re here, Papa.”

  “Open your heart, Alex, and cherish the love you share.”

  “I have, Papa. Sarah knows how much I love her.”

  “I shall be in heaven. You will feel my presence at your wedding.”

  “Papa. You will be sitting in the front row,” Sarah argued. Tears were racing down her cheeks. “I have requested a photograph of you holding the twins. You will be in a great number of photographs.”

  “I fear that is not possible,” he muttered as his voice became weaker. “My spirit will be with you.”

  “I love you, Papa.”

  “I love you, Alex. Take care of your beautiful bride. Treasure her.”

  Poppa turned his head to look at the other side of his bed. “My beautiful Hope. We love you.”