Natasha's Legacy (26 page)

“Which kiss?” she questioned. There was a
hint of a chuckle to her tone.

“The kiss at the concert hall. I am not
apologizing for kissing you in my family’s presence. I need a blunt
response, Sarah. It’s obvious I lack the imagination and insight to
read your mind. I want to be forgiven.”

“You will be forgiven the moment I become
your wife.”

Alex froze. That kiss occurred early in their
relationship. “How is it possible you knew you wanted to be
married? That your heart knew? My wife? You couldn’t possibly
know….”

“I thought about becoming your wife the day
you stood in the mercantile. Your eyes sparkled and then you
smiled. I was smitten.”

“You began talking and your sense of humour
captivated me. Then I looked up and your beautiful face took my
breath away. As you lay in my arms, with your hair loose, you still
take my breath away. Once you arrange a date, I will be standing,
waiting to hold your hand in mine.”

“I require your presence tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” He smiled. “An informal wedding,
or do you own an appropriate gown?”

“I do. It hangs in my former room at Momma
and Poppa’s, but I do not intend to wear it. It’s bad luck. Perhaps
I shall be married in the gown I wore last evening.” She looked at
the clothes that lay beside them. “Or the gown I wore at your
birthday party.”

“No.” Alex shook his head. “The day is yours
to plan, but I must insist you do not wear black or anything too
dark. I am a traditional man.”

Sarah’s head flopped back onto the pillow as
she laughed. “There is nothing traditional about you, Alexander
Stewart Venderkemp.” She paused for a moment. “I must order
flowers, a gown, speak with the priest, speak with Rose, our
mommas, Andrew, Jessica. Hmmm. Perhaps the wedding should be
delayed a day or two.”

When Alex reached behind for their clothing,
Sarah placed her hand on his arm. Then she straddled him.

“Seriously? After last night? You possess
energy…?”

“Yes. I will have the energy when we’re
ninety.”

“Ninety.” He raised one eyebrow. “It’s
probable the frequency will be reduced.”

“Perhaps. Twice a week at seventy and once a
week at ninety.”

He placed his hand behind her head, pulled
her toward him, and kissed her.

Alex and Sarah were dressed when they heard
Richard approach with the breakfast tray.

“Enjoy while it’s warm.” Richard handed the
tray to Alex. “I shall be rewarded for assisting when you mind my
children.”

“We will be pleased to spoil our niece and
nephew,” Alex assured him.

After a leisurely breakfast, they walked
toward the orphanage. The family rushed out to greet them. Sarah
took Alisha into her arms allowing Alex to hold his nephew. Alisha
gripped the engagement ring.

“You mustn’t do that sweetheart.” Rose pulled
her small hand away. “Auntie Sarah was given a special gift last
evening. Now, finally, we can plan a wedding.”

“Rose,” Richard groaned. “It is possible she
doesn’t require your assistance.”

“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.”