Natasha's Diary

by Heather Greenis

  Adam reluctantly agreed. Confident, Hope was determined to prove his negative thoughts were unwarranted.

  Hope was settling herself on the grass when Adam arrived. She reached up, took his books from him, and began turning pages. He sat beside her. When she found their most recent assignment, she looked at the grade. Turning, Adam was smiling, modestly. With his scholarship, Hope expected strong marks, but did not expect him to have achieved so close to a perfect score.

  “I fear I cannot offer assistance,” she whispered, proud of him but dismayed. “There is very little room for improvement.”

  She picked up her own book and displayed her mark, only a few points below his. Adam’s eyes widened. He placed his hands over his face for a brief moment before he looked at her.

  “My humble apologies for my reaction,” he whispered. “The first day you sat by my side in class, I thought you were flighty. Too pretty to be smart. In my opinion, at the time, you lacked focus. I must admit, I questioned your acceptance to the university.”

  “I had read the classic many times, discussing the content and meaning in great detail with my poppa. The professor wasn’t adding insight during the lecture.”

  “I agree. I believe we may complement each other,” Adam responded.

  Ecstatic, Hope beamed. She could follow in her parents’ footsteps and study with this amazing young man.

  “As study partners, we must encourage each other to be diligent and complete our assignments,” he reminded her.

  They spent the remainder of their lunch break working on assignments.

  * * *

  Weeks passed. Hope considered mentioning Adam to her father, but the friendship wasn’t progressing into a relationship. Her grandparents had been smitten instantly, as were her parents and aunt and uncle. Adam hadn’t given any indication he wished for more than friendship. Other male students asked for her company, but she politely declined. Adam never mentioned spending time together on weekends. Determined to remain positive, she prayed for her momma’s strength to endure this challenge.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Leaving the barn after feeding the horses, Stewart noticed Vicki and Greg walking with Brodie. He entered the house and glanced into the parlour. Izabella was on the sofa with a cream-coloured blanket covering her lap. She held Natasha’s diary in her hands. Pleased to see her taking an interest in his past, Stewart went to his room and returned with his novel and reading glasses. Izabella glanced his way when he entered, smiled, and turned her attention back to the written words. A companionable silence fell over them as they read.

  * * *

  With Stewart focused on a large project, Izabella didn’t arrive at the site until Hope was due to return from school. He was encouraged by their friendship, pleased their bond was getting stronger.

  After clearing the dinner plates, Izabella offered to take Brodie for an evening stroll. Stewart closed the door, reached for Izabella’s hand and set out on their walk.

  “I’ve been talking with Hope recently,” she began. “If I may speak plainly, in the strictest of confidence?

  “Of course. I always appreciate the benefit of your good opinion.”

  “I’ve noticed a change in Hope’s demeanour. There is a special glow in her face, and a joyful skip in her step. She appears exceptionally happy and content. I’ve considered saying something to her, but fear I will embarrass Hope. I will not risk tarnishing the bond we have developed. I find myself wondering if Hope has made a new acquaintance. A male acquaintance.”

  Surprised by the comment, Stewart stopped walking. After two months of schooling, he hadn’t seen a change in his daughter, anything to indicate she had a beau. “She hasn’t mentioned a friend. If she does have a beau, how is it possible my spunky daughter is keeping this information to herself?” He turned and looked at Izabella. “She has spoken of this?”

  “No. It has been implied, but not declared.”

  “Implied? It’s not like her to be secretive. Hope doesn’t approve of hiding her emotions.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but Hope is a Donovan. You didn’t speak of your intention to court me until Greg voiced the obvious.”

  Stewart turned his head, looking in the opposite direction. “Ugh,” he groaned, not appreciating what Izabella was insinuating. Hope was disappointed when he ended his relationship with Jane. He had planned to spend more time with Izabella before announcing his intentions to his family.

  Hope spoke openly on every topic. She wasn’t capable of keeping a secret. He was equally certain she would explode with details of a new friend if she found him of interest. He turned and looked at the woman beside him.

  “I don’t need to be reminded of my desire for privacy. I may harbour some regrets, but I didn’t plan to discuss my private affairs until, well, until we spent some time together. Our first evening was wonderful, but I admit, emotionally, I was scared.” He stopped and gave her words serious thought. “There would be an indication if Hope were interested in a man,” he continued. “She remains focused on her studies. I’ve seen improvement in her grades. I’m proud of her achievements thus far. I must confront her with this information.”

  “I beg of you,” Izabella pleaded. “Allow Hope to spread her wings and move at her own pace. Over the years, you have established a solid relationship with her. You must trust her to confide in you when she is ready. I spoke to you in confidence, Stewart. Please, don’t make me regret that decision.”

  “I value your opinion, especially a female perspective. What do you suggest?”

  “Watch her eyes when she speaks of her classes. She lights up from within.” Izabella gazed into his eyes. “She possesses the Donovan sparkle.”

  “If she is hiding something, that is a concern to me. Natasha hid our relationship, and the ramifications were disastrous.” His heart began to pound. We were forced into hiding. My wife felt the need to take her own life.”

  “Hope has had a wonderful life,” Izabella reminded him. She has bonded with Nanny, her uncles, Vicki and Greg, and her nana and papa. She has bonded with Anna. Hope is not Natasha. Your daughter is happy.”

  Stewart was still concerned, knowing Hope possessed his own negative traits. What if Izabella is correct? What if Hope is keeping something from me? He didn’t want to believe it was possible. The more he considered the possibility, the more he could picture Hope’s eyes sparkling as she spoke about her English Literature class. It was possible she was indeed hiding information. This would require patience—more than he possessed.

  The following night, Stewart escorted Izabella home and walked her to the door.

  “I listened as Hope spoke of her studies. I’m afraid I must agree with you. It’s possible there is a young gentleman in her English Literature class. Her face glowed. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve been blind to it before you mentioned it.”

  “Don’t be. I saw the change when it was fresh in her mind and her heart. From my reading of a diary, I fear history is attempting to repeat itself. Your parents were not aware of the changes in you, yet I fear they were as obvious. I believe this young man is special.”

  “I pray she opens her heart and speaks to me. I wish to become acquainted with this friend.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Two weeks passed, and Hope had shown no indication of sharing any information about a special man in her life. Frustrated, Stewart regretted his decision to allow Hope to read the diary and more recently, his decision to remain silent about his growing relationship with Izabella. Now, the repercussions of his own secrecy were coming back to haunt him. Having encouraged Hope to speak openly as she grew, he never dreamed she would become silent on such an important issue. He entered the kitchen as Vicki and Izabella tidied the room.

  “I beg of you,” he whispered. “Please say Hope has mentioned something in confidence. Something regarding a special acquaintance with a young man.”

  “Nothing of significance,” Vicki replied apologetically, glancing ove
r her shoulder as she washed the dishes.

  “Hmm.”

  “Unaware of your relationship with Natasha, Momma was concerned you weren’t courting, but only questioned you once,” Vicki reminded him. “Poppa never spoke of it. You never spoke of your desire to court Izabella, yet there was no reason for secrecy. I’m thankful Greg spoke of his suspicions.”

  Stewart never responded. He couldn’t. He didn’t appreciate the reminder of his own behaviour.

  “You must give Hope the same freedom and trust you were shown. Once she’s ready to speak, her face shall be glowing as she runs to her poppa,” Vicki assured him.

  That night, in his room, Stewart sat holding a picture of deceased wife. “I must remain patient, but it’s difficult, Natasha. You’ve seen our daughter with this young man. Speak to me. Are you pleased? Is he a good man with a kind heart?” He placed her photograph on the nightstand, removed his journal, and wrote a long entry.

  Stewart woke the following morning feeling refreshed, confident Natasha was pleased with Hope’s new friend. “I will force myself to remain patient.”

  * * *

  Saturday afternoon, Vicki and Greg excused themselves, informing Stewart and Izabella they were planning to take Brodie for a long walk. With Hope in her room working on her assignments, Izabella retrieved the diary and sat on the sofa. Stewart went to the library, found a novel and entered the parlour to join her. Izabella placed the diary on her lap.

  “I am shocked by the written words in front of me,” Izabella admitted. “You waited a year before you kissed her?”

  He sat on the sofa beside her. “I recall the day as vividly as yesterday,” he confessed.

  “Within six months of meeting Charles, I accepted his name, and you were afraid to kiss the woman you loved after a year,” she teased.

  Stewart listened for movement on the second floor. The house was quiet. Hope was still in her room.

  “Natasha was very reserved. It always concerned me that one day I would sit at the river and wait but she wouldn’t come. I knew very little about her, including where she lived, but what I did know captivated my heart. I couldn’t risk rushing a potential romance. It appears that even as a mature adult I feel the need to take relationships slowly. I fear the day will come where you walk out of my life seeking something I’m not capable of giving you.”

  “Stewart, my heart is also torn. I’m content, having no desire to rush this.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  It took time, but eventually Adam began to relax in Hope’s presence. Hope spoke of her life and the bond she shared with her father and his family. He spoke of his life at the orphanage. Wishing for an invitation to the building he called home, Hope constantly reminded Adam her parents volunteered at an orphanage. Losing patience, and determined to experience the life her momma found so gratifying, Hope joined Adam under the tree and placed her books on the ground.

  “I would like to accompany you to your home and business. I wish to see the orphanage.”

  “It’s a building, Hope. One that is full of children and volunteers.”

  “Yes. A building my parents volunteered at. A place that captivated my momma.”

  “If it would please you. I’ll speak with Momma and Poppa.”

  “I shall make the necessary arrangements with my family,” she announced, her voice bubbling with excitement.

  Bursting with enthusiasm, she was eager to tell her father, but during the train ride home, had a change of heart. Her father would be pleased and ask a multitude of questions. Lacking the answers, she decided it would be best to speak with him after visiting the orphanage.

  During dinner, Hope informed her father and aunt she would be completing an errand after school the following day. Too excited to relax, she struggled to fall asleep that night.

  The following morning, she purchased two train tickets and continued to school. Classes seemed exceptionally long. Lacking even an ounce of concentration, she was thankful when the lunch break arrived. The afternoon did not see an improvement. When the school day finally ended, she followed Adam out of the building and boarded the train.

  Sitting next to Adam, her heart pounded in anticipation of the experience. The building will bring me closer to Momma and closer to Adam. Two people I admire. She chatted to Adam from the moment they boarded until the train stopped.

  Together they walked down a tree-lined road, and within five minutes a large three-storey stone building came into sight. The structure appeared weathered and outdated. This could use Poppa’s innovative mind and expertise. Three stone steps led to the uninviting entrance. Stepping into the lobby was less than welcoming, with nothing but two chairs, closed doors, and a staircase leading to the next level. But when Adam opened the door on the far side of the room, the chatter of children’s voices warmed her heart. Inside were three rows of tables filled with children sitting, reading books, and writing their lessons. In the corner, an adult was surrounded with four young children positioned in a semi-circle, sitting on pillows and listening to a story. Stepping into the room, Hope felt the love and warmth in the room as her heart filled with pride and admiration. Coming from such wealth, this must have overwhelmed Momma. I understand the gratification she must have felt helping with such young, innocent children.

  “Momma and Poppa.” Adam’s voice brought her back to the present.

  He pointed out his parents. “The others are volunteers.”

  Hope’s eyes met Mrs. Venderkemp’s sparkling hazel eyes. Walking toward them, his mother brushed her grey bangs from her forehead and extended her hand in greeting.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Hope smiled, shaking her hand. “I wish to convey my gratitude for you allowing me the opportunity to visit.”

  She turned to greet Adam’s father. Adam bore a strong resemblance to his poppa. His brown hair was more grey than brown, but he had warm brown eyes and the same dimple as his son.

  “Would you care for a tour of the orphanage?” Adam asked.

  “Indeed I would.”

  After touring the main floor, they walked up the steps to the medical section. It was in this very area Momma learned I was growing in her womb. The knowledge brought a slight smile to her face. Peering around the room, she saw a few young children laying ill in beds. Adam opened a door. Hope looked in to see a woman, probably in her late twenties, sitting in a wooden rocking chair, feeding an infant.

  “The baby was born yesterday. A healthy boy. Poppa keeps record of couples wishing to adopt an infant. Some women volunteer in the nursery while waiting for a child.”

  “That woman looks content with that baby.”

  “Yes. The forms have been completed. Within a few days, she’ll take that baby boy home.”

  “My goodness.” Her eyes swelled with tears. “The baby will have a loving home.”

  Adam closed the door and continued down the hallway.

  “It must be difficult for your momma. For the volunteers. Loving and caring for a child, and then allowing them to leave.”

  “It took Momma time, but she has grown to accept the orphanage as a business. She loves the children, but is able to release them to loving couples with good homes. I recall evenings in my youth, hearing Momma sob as Poppa consoled her.”

  “I cannot imagine releasing a child once you bonded with it.”

  “This is a business, Hope. The children are loved while they are in our care, but monies are required. The fees collected from adoptive parents and donations allow us to feed and clothe the children and provide shelter.”

  Of course. That is why Momma insisted her family send a donation. The anonymous donation.

  The tour continued. Hope was shown the doctor’s office and the private bedroom. On the third floor, the attic had hardwood floors, an arched ceiling with support beams, and square windows. Rows of beds with a small space between each lined the area. The children’s possessions and clothing were stored in small crates with labels. A heavy curtain divided the r
oom. She couldn’t recall seeing a room as immaculate.

  “This is the sleeping quarters for the children? It’s so tidy.”

  “Yes, the older children are encouraged to assist with keeping it in order.”

  Adam led Hope back to the second floor and down the hallway. He reached into his trouser pocket, removed a key and opened a door.

  “This is my home. Poppa, Momma, and I possess the only keys.”

  The hallway inside was narrow, with one door to the left and one to the right. They stopped at the second door, and Adam opened it.

  “This is my room.”

  Hope was surprised by the size. Long and narrow, it held a twin-sized bed, a wardrobe, and a desk. There was very little room for movement. Her room was at least three to four times the size. Hope walked around the bed and glanced out the window to see the entrance to the orphanage. She turned and faced Adam.

  “A place to do your homework, and to sleep,” she remarked.

  “Indeed. I also take advantage of the spacious yard and the fresh air to complete my studies when the children are occupied during quiet time.”

  For the first time in her life, Hope felt blessed, fortunate. Her respect for Adam grew.

  Hope and Adam spent the afternoon reading stories and playing with the children. She witnessed a young couple arrive and then leave with a young boy by their side. It broke her heart to see the disappointment in the faces of the remaining children. Adam excused himself, took a crying young boy’s hand, and consoled him. Hope choked her own tears, but the boy returned to his friends with a smile on his face. The experience left her heart aching for the parentless children, wishing her father and aunts and uncles could adopt every child within the building. Adam returned to her side.