“The lead tenor is local,” Stewart reminded her. “He will perform again.”
“Miss Izabella is attending again.”
Perusing the program, Hope’s voice interrupted his concentration. Stewart glanced past his daughter at a woman in a sparkling silver gown. Vaguely recalling her face at the previous concert, they made eye contact and exchanged a slight smile. She took her place beside his sister, and the two began conversing. Stewart turned his attention back to Hope.
“It is obvious you know this woman.”
“Yes, Miss Izabella. I don’t know her surname, Poppa. She works at boutique where Aunt Vicki and I shop. Valentines is my favourite boutique, and Miss Izabella shows me the prettiest dresses.”
Content with the information, he smiled. Valentines was a shop within the mall he worked on a few years earlier. Vicki and Hope shopped regularly, and Momma on occasion. An arrangement had been made years ago. Their purchases were discounted and invoices sent out.
When the intermission was announced, he followed the three females into the theatre’s reception area. Leaving them to talk, he went for refreshments. All three were laughing when he returned. It was impossible to miss the prominent dimples on Miss Izabella’s cheeks.
“Excuse me.” He stepped toward his sister with a glass of wine. He handed Hope a glass of juice.
“Miss Izabella, this is my poppa.”
Cringing at the introduction Stewart leaned toward his daughter. “Hope. I was not christened with the name ‘Poppa.’ You’re to introduce me by my proper name to a new acquaintance.”
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Carson.”
Stewart froze at her inadvertent faux pas.
“My humble apologies,” Vicki interjected. “Hope is not my daughter, but my niece. This is not my husband, but my brother, Stewart Donovan.”
Izabella clenched her purse with both hands. Her cheeks turned bright red.
“My apologies.” She shifted her attention from Vicki to Hope and back to Vicki. “I was wrong to assume Hope was your daughter.”
“With her blonde hair and blue eyes, it’s a natural assumption,” Stewart remarked, giving his daughter a quick wink. “They could easily pass as mother and daughter.”
“I possess the Donovan eyes, Aunt Vicki’s and Nana’s blonde hair, and Momma’s appearance,” Hope stated proudly.
“Obviously your momma is very beautiful if you share her appearance.”
Stewart placed his hand on Hope’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“She was,” Hope responded with a soft tone.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Izabella…?”
“Herman.”
“Where is Mr. Herman?” Hope asked. “I’m yet to see him accompany you.”
Stewart’s jaw dropped. His cheeks burned. He made a mental note to speak with her in private regarding matters that were not of her concern.
“Hope,” he scowled. He shook his head slowly, showing his displeasure.
“Mr. Herman is no longer with us,” she responded quietly.
“Is he in heaven? My momma went to heaven when I was young.”
“Indeed, he is. I’m certain you miss your momma as I miss my husband.”
Until this moment, it hadn’t dawned on him. Mrs. Herman was alone. She didn’t have a friend offering to get her a refreshment while she chatted. How stupid of me.
“Allow me to buy you a drink,” Stewart offered, hoping to change the subject. “Perhaps a glass of wine? Do you prefer red or white?”
“Red wine would be wonderful. Thank you.”
Stewart returned a few minutes later and extended the glass. His fingers brushed against hers. With their eyes making contact for a brief moment, Stewart pulled his hand away, thankful his sister was speaking. Within minutes, Stewart, Vicki, and Hope were chuckling at Izabella’s wit and contagious laugh.
Chapter Twenty-One
The bond between Stewart and Hope strengthened once Hope began reading the diary. During evening visits she spoke of how she laughed, cried, and was terrified as she read Natasha’s words.
“I’m so thankful you entered Momma’s life.”
Stewart leaned on the bed toward her and put his arm around her shoulder.
“I’m very lucky,” Hope admitted. “I share a close bond with you, Aunt Vicki, Papa and Nana. I can’t imagine the inability to speak with anyone in my home.”
Stewart smiled as he nodded. “I know.”
The following night, Stewart was in his room reading when he heard a soft tap on his bedroom door. Looking up, his daughter was standing at the doorway with her shawl over her dressing gown. Brodie was behind her. He placed his reading glasses and novel on his lap. With a closer look, her eyes were bloodshot.
“Come in, Hope. Come, sit beside me, sweetheart.”
Hope sat on the other chair. Brodie settled between them.
“Momma declined your proposal? You never spoke of that.”
Stewart reached over and took her hand in his. This would be a difficult discussion. He took a deep breath.
“She broke my heart,” he finally admitted. “I was in love and dreamed of a life with her.”
“By the date in the diary, it’s possible I was conceived that evening. Had you not accepted her apology, you wouldn’t be my poppa,” she whispered, her voice cracking. The tears began running down her cheeks. “It bothers me greatly knowing that was possible.”
Stewart stood and led Hope to his bed. Sitting, he placed his arm around her shoulder and kissed her forehead.
“You didn’t want to see Momma when she arrived at your room?” Hope questioned.
“I was devastated and needed to think. Your momma had deceived me from the day we met. I shared a bed with a member of the royal family. I was terrified I would disgrace my family and lose my head, but I couldn’t allow your momma to walk out of my life. I would have spoken to her in the morning. As you recall from the diary, when your momma entered my room, the bed hadn’t been used. I didn’t rest once I left her room, but sat on my chair to think. I couldn’t lose her, as I loved her far too much to allow that. My love for her still consumes my heart.”
“If you hadn’t been persistent, I would have been raised by…,” Hope broke down in tears.
“No. I would not allow that to happen,” he whispered as he held her. “My blood runs through your veins. I would fight with my last breath to have you raised a Donovan. To have you raised by my side.”
* * *
The following week, sobbing stopped Stewart as he walked toward his room. He tapped on Hope’s door and opened it. She was tucked under the covers, reading the diary. He sat on the side of her bed and embraced her.
“Poor Momma. Her father has discovered you were married. He was so mean and heartless. How could he treat his own daughter like that?”
“I’d believed he would accept the marriage, but in hindsight, he lost control of his daughter." With Hope sobbing in his arms, Stewart thought about their relationship.
“You’re not only the image of your momma, you also share certain characteristics. I’ve encouraged your independence and believe your stubborn nature is deeply ingrained. Natasha was determined to be free from the castle and her family. Her father refused to allow her that right. Unfortunately, he lost his daughter, and I lost the love of my life. You lost an incredible, loving Momma.” He took a deep breath. “You shall be reading of happier times,” he assured her. “Your momma was a mature, intelligent woman, but inside was a young child craving to escape. An endearing spontaneous child existed in her too.”
“Momma wrote the same about you, Poppa. She loved you.”
Stewart smiled, nodding. “You were growing inside her womb, and we both cherished the thought of becoming parents.”
“I wish I could speak with her. Tell her I love her.”
Stewart’s eyes watered. Tears rushed down his cheeks. Brodie whimpered. Stewart reached down and rubbed the do
g’s head before turning his attention back to Hope. He appreciated the similarities between his deceased wife and their daughter. They both held a special place deep in his heart.
“Close your eyes, and open your heart. You’ll feel her presence. She never left us. She has been by my side as I raised you, encouraging me and guiding me. I feel her warmth in my heart.”
“Is that why you never remarried?”
“There has never been a woman that touched my heart as your momma did.”
“I was hurt when you ended your courtship with Jane, but I understand your reasoning better now. Momma was unique.”
“As are you,” he whispered. “You’re growing into an intelligent, beautiful young woman. I couldn’t be more proud of you. I sympathize with the boys who will court you. I recall being nervous as I approached your momma, attempting to make her acquaintance.”
* * *
When Hope ran into his room sobbing, Stewart knew she had read Natasha’s letter. Standing, he embraced his daughter, allowing the shawl covering her long white nightgown to fall to the floor. Brodie whimpered.
“I read the letter before beginning the diary,” Stewart whispered, fighting back his own tears. “I was unable to read anything else that evening.”
Stewart pulled away from their embrace, reached into his nightstand drawer for a clean hankie, and wiped the tears from her cheeks before embracing her again.
“Momma would be alive today if I hadn’t entered the world. She feared being able to stay hidden as I grew. Having me was a mistake.”
Stewart put his hands on her cheeks and looked into his daughter’s bloodshot, puffy eyes. “Nothing could be further from the truth. You were such a joy. We dreamed of a large family. You added contentment, happiness to your momma’s life that I wasn’t capable of providing on my own.” Pausing, he took a deep breath to regain his composure. Losing his battle, a tear escaped and raced down his cheek. “Everything I have done, I have done in attempt to make my wife and daughter proud. During my evening prayers, every night, I thank God for blessing me with you.”
“I’m so proud of you, Poppa. I’m thankful for the opportunity to read Momma’s diary.”
He kissed her forehead. “I admit, knowing the detail in the diary, it wasn’t an easy decision. Reading your momma’s words, I am able to close my eyes and feel her emotions.”
“I understand why Momma is still in your heart. I understand why you don’t want to meet my grandparents. I find myself questioning why she insisted I have a relationship with Anna.”
“I’m unable to explain that. I wasn’t pleased when I discovered her wishes, but I believe bonding with Anna has strengthened our relationship.”
“I’m not ready to return the diary. I wish to reread sections again.”
“Don’t rush, Hope. The words are embedded in my mind.”
* * *
With their parents entertaining friends, Stewart rode to the concert hall with Hope, Vicki, and Greg. Hope settled between him and Vicki.
“Aunt Vicki, Miss Izabella is sitting with us again,” Hope exclaimed.
Izabella looked at her ticket, examining the row and seat number. She continued down the row to the vacant seat beside him.
“Are you arranging these tickets, Hope?” Izabella asked. “I appreciate the companionship, but this is the fourth occurrence.”
“Poppa?” she questioned.
Speechless, Stewart felt the heat penetrate his entire body. His cheeks burned. Humiliating.
“My apologies,” Izabella whispered. “I’ve embarrassed both of you. I’m far too outspoken. My husband always warned me my wit would surface at an inappropriate time, and indeed it has. I’m simply astounded by the coincidence.”
“Indeed,” Stewart responded. Truly a coincidence! There was nothing special about the seats or how they were chosen. Tickets were not purchased for the entire season, but for individual performances, depending on the family’s personal schedules. I made a special trip to the box office and requested four tickets close to the front in the orchestra level. I’d almost question whether a higher being was involved, allowing Vicki’s friend to join us. “There are over one hundred and fifty seats in this concert hall, many of which are general admission, yet I seem to reserve the seats beside you, every time.”
The family changed their seats to allow Vicki to sit next to her friend. They spoke during the intermission, and Izabella was invited for afternoon tea before they returned to their buggies.
* * *
The women were still conversing when Stewart and Greg arrived home from work. Stewart bowed his head slightly to acknowledge Izabella as Greg walked toward his wife and kissed her cheek. Content between the women, Brodie lifted her head, looked at them and rested her head on her front paws. “I see you’ve met out family pet,” he observed.
“Izabella brought dog treats. She has a friend for life,” Vicki informed him.
“Food. A way to a dog’s heart.”
Izabella joined the family for dinner. Over the weeks the friendship between Vicki and Izabella deepened. Izabella became a regular guest at their dinner table.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Four months later, Stewart and Greg took their places at either end of the table with Hope, Vicki, and Izabella between them.
“A boy from school asked me to accompany him to dinner,” Hope informed them, lacking the excitement Stewart had expected.
“And you agreed!” Stewart remarked. “Well then, I think a new dress would be appropriate for the occasion.”
“Yes. Any excuse to go shopping,” Vicki added. “Would you care to join us?” she asked Izabella.
Hope nodded enthusiastically. Izabella agreed.
* * *
Saturday morning, Hope was wearing a simple patterned pink dress, eagerly waiting for Izabella to arrive. The men would have a day to themselves as the women shopped in anticipation of Hope’s first evening out with a male companion.
Stewart and Greg were outside, playing with Brodie when the women arrived home. An hour later, the adults were conversing in the parlour when Stewart excused himself. He walked up to the second floor and tapped on Hope’s door. “Do you have a moment?”
“Come in, Poppa.”
Hope was standing in a stylish blue dress with a ribbon tied just below her bodice. With her hair tied back with ribbons, she no longer looked like a little girl, but a young woman.
“You look beautiful," he acknowledged as he leaned against the doorframe. “I plan to speak to Henry in private when he arrives.”
“He’s shy, Poppa. Be kind.”
“Me?” he questioned with wit to his tone. “I won’t embarrass you, although the idea is enticing. Do you like Henry?”
She scrunched her nose a bit. Discouraged, he did not expect Hope to marry the first boy that courted her, but he had expected more enthusiasm, or at the very least, some nerves associated with anticipation.
“I’m unsure of my feeling for him, but I’m hoping if I agree to be courted, you may be persuaded to seek a female companion.”
“Hope,” he grumbled, and then eased his tone. “Be mindful of the time.”
He could hear her giggling as he closed the door. He tilted his head toward the ceiling and walked down the steps and into the parlour.
“She’s grown before my eyes,” he admitted. He sat on the chair across from Vicki. “The baby I held in my arms has become a young woman.”
“Vicki, Izabella and I will sit in the library while you meet her friend,” Greg informed him.
“Yes. No need to intimidate him,” Stewart acknowledged.
Within seconds there was a soft knock on the door.
Woof.
The dog raced down the steps. Greg gripped the dog’s collar and guided Brodie into the library with Izabella and Vicki.
Stewart opened the door to a nervous young man who was impeccably dressed in a suit and tie, his dark hair and eyes partially hidden by his top hat. It made him appear onl
y a few inches shorter than Stewart. Removing his hat, Henry followed Stewart into the parlour.
After watching the young couple ride off, the adults had a wonderful meal. They laughed hysterically while they sipped their wine and finished their dessert. Retreating to the parlour, Stewart spoke of Natasha’s first card game and her first experience with alcohol. The cribbage table appeared, and the family soon discovered Izabella excelled at the game, taking the lead from Stewart.
“I believe you’re reliving your wife’s evening,” Izabella teased. A grin of pride appeared on her face. “Alcohol is known for affecting a person’s mind. Perhaps we should limit you to a single glass of wine.”
Brodie sat up and pawed at her master.
“I’m not sharing my wine, Brodie,” Stewart declared. He petted the dog’s head. He looked into her big brown eyes. “I have vivid memories of a dog tongue on my face in my youth. I won’t allow that to happen twice. Your tongue is not getting close to my mouth or my glass. Now, go lay down.”
With both Vicki and Greg chuckling, having heard the story of the day at the river, Stewart smiled. He turned toward Izabella. His gaze met hers. He was unable to look away.
Woof.
The bark sent his heart into his throat.
Woof.
“What is it? What did you hear? Excuse me,” he requested.
He rose from the game table and went to the window. A horse and buggy stood at the front of the house. Hope was walking toward the door. Removing his pocket watch, he looked at the time. It was early in the evening, given her curfew. He went to the door and opened it. Henry was already driving the buggy down the lane.
“How was your evening?” he asked as he closed the door behind her.
“The food was delicious,” she replied without enthusiasm.
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