Natasha's Diary Page 4

  “Stewart, you require sleep,” Momma reminded him, sympathetically.

  Eliza retrieved a blanket from the chest in the corner of the room, placed it by his legs, and sat on her favourite chair. She picked up her needlework.

  Stewart spent the next hour horizontal. Impatient, he removed his watch regularly and grumbled at the time.

  The sun had disappeared, replaced by an overcast sky. Even Mother Nature was saddened it seemed.

  By four o’clock, he was standing by the window, anxious for his daughter to return. “They should have arrived early. Before the expected time.”

  Minutes crept by like hours. “They are late, fifteen minutes late.” Beside himself, Stewart’s heart pounded. His stomach twisted in knots of fear. He stood by the open window attempting to breathe. More than concerned, he began pacing.

  “Calm yourself, Stewart,” Willard pleaded. “There are a number of acceptable reasons to cause tardiness.”

  “I don’t like it. I don’t trust Natasha’s parents. I can picture the scenario in my mind. Moments after Nanny arrived with Hope, they were overtaken by guards. Overpowered. Nanny and Hope were separated. My daughter is terrified and confused, sitting in the company of strangers who call themselves her grandparents.” Turning his body, he stared out the window. “Why did I allow this? I should have swallowed my pride and accompanied Nanny and my daughter. With my last breath, my last ounce of strength, I would’ve fought for her. I cannot live without my precious Hope.”

  His father’s hands gripped his shoulders. “Although it is difficult, we must remain positive,” he reassured him.

  The sound of a horse and buggy made him spin toward the window, his hand against his chest to settle his pounding heart. “Nanny has brought Hope home.” His heart sank. It wasn’t Nanny’s horse or carriage. Instead, he saw his sister step out of the buggy. Hopeful, Stewart ran outside to speak with her friend’s father. All hope was shattered when informed they hadn’t seen another horse or carriage on their journey. He was convinced something was terribly wrong. Hope was with Natasha’s parents, never to be seen again.

  “Why did I allow this? What was I thinking? I cannot stay in this house without knowing the whereabouts of my daughter. I won’t lose Hope without a fight. If I’m unable to locate Hope at the park, I shall search the castle for her.”

  “Stewart,” Eliza pleaded.

  “Eliza, Stewart has cause for concern.” Willard walked toward his wife and daughter. “A half hour late is not acceptable on a first visit. I also fear for Hope’s safety and well-being. Together, we shall locate that child and ensure her safe return.”

  They dashed out of the house. The men jumped onto the horses without bothering to saddle them and galloped off, leaving his mother and Vicki in the doorway.

  * * *

  Keeghan squeezed Will’s hand. “How much authority would a king have? Can he actually kidnap a child and get away with it? Poor little Hope.”

  Alexander turned their attention back to the screen.

  Chapter Five

  Keeping a firm grip on the reins, Stewart’s eyes were focused on the road ahead. The horse charged toward the park. In his mind, he couldn’t fathom anything positive that would cause Nanny to be tardy in her return. She was a punctual woman. Nauseous, he felt bile rise in his chest. Leaning closer to the horse, he turned his head slightly, expecting the noon meal to escape the confines of his body. Dry heaves wracked him, but nothing came out. Panic sent waves of heat washing over his body, and the world tilted crazily for a moment. “I’m going to pass out. No, I can’t. Focus. I must find her. I must see that beautiful little face again, the image of her momma. Life isn’t worth living without Hope. Enough, I need positive thoughts!”

  “Stewart,” his father called angrily. “Be kind to the animal. Don’t force her to run beyond her ability. If the mare stumbles, you will surely fall to your death. I do not wish to inform Hope that her poppa has joined her momma in heaven.”

  Guilt-ridden, Stewart rubbed the side of the animal’s neck.

  “If Hope and Nanny are not at the park, we shall take a moment to think clearly,” his father continued, speaking the voice of reason. “It is not wise to invade the castle. Trespassing is illegal, regardless the reason.”

  “Kidnapping is also illegal.” Stewart scowled, justifying his actions and mood.

  “Indeed it is, yet barging into the castle will not be tolerated. If needed, our lawyer will approach the judge and demand Hope’s return. Take note to the right. There is a carriage overturned. Don’t frighten that horse.”

  Ahead on the dirt road, a covered carriage lay tilted on its side. So concerned with Hope, he hadn’t noticed. “Whoa,” he commanded. His mare obligingly slowed.

  Upon closer examination, the wheel was almost completely detached from the axle. The horse was still harnessed to it. A spooked horse could rear or bolt, jolting the carriage even further. The passengers could be harmed, if they weren’t already.

  “Whoa,” he commanded, slowing his horse even more. The silhouette of a bonnet showed in the window of the carriage. The dark brown horse turned toward them, showing the long white patch under her neck. An ounce of hope shot through Stewart. Nanny’s horse had a similar patch of white.

  “Do you see those markings?” his father inquired.

  “Yes. Very similar to Nanny’s mare.” Stewart slowed the horse to a stop and jumped down. “Nanny. Hope?” Stewart called, his voice tight with anxiety.

  Hope’s small head appeared beside the bonneted woman. “Poppa,” she squealed.

  “Hope.” Nanny’s voice came from the tilted vehicle. “You must stop squirming and wait for your poppa to assist you.”

  Both men approached slowly to avoid startling the horses. With the carriage leaning to the side, Stewart stood by the door. His father stood between the horses and held their bridles. With the mares secured, Stewart pulled the door open, put his back against the frame, and reached for his daughter. Once Hope was safely on the ground, Stewart extended his hand to Nanny and assisted her out as well.

  “Do not allow that door to slam, Stewart. I don’t want these animals further startled.”

  Stewart eased the carriage door closed and then turned and took Hope into his arms. Stewart kissed Hope’s cheek, forehead, and the end of her nose, causing Hope to giggle. “I missed you, sweetheart. May Poppa have a kiss?”

  “Where is your driver? Why did he leave you?” Willard asked.

  “He was hurt. A gentleman stopped to offer assistance. The driver was unconscious and bleeding from a head wound, so I insisted the good samaritan take the driver for immediate medical assistance.”

  “What happened?”

  “The problem occurred shortly after we departed from the park,” Nanny informed them. “I became concerned as the carriage began to list badly after we hit a hard bump. There must have been debris or such on the road. Hope is too young for the long walk back, and at any rate I could not get both of us out of the carriage by myself. The good samaritan assured me he would send help my way.”

  “Thank God neither of you were harmed.” Stewart signed with relief. “We can only hope the driver is well.”

  “Indeed,” his father added and then leaned toward Hope and kissed the back of her head. “Once we are settled in my home, I’ll speak with a neighbour friend and his sons and together we will return with tools and supplies and bring the carriage back. It will need some repairs, I’m afraid. After sharing our evening meal, I shall escort you home and ensure you arrive safely.”

  The horse was unhitched from the carriage.

  “Are you comfortable riding bareback?” Willard asked Nanny. “It is a long walk back to the house.”

  “It has been a long time, and it’s not as dignified as I prefer, but I believe I’m capable.”

  “You will ride my horse. She is a gentle creature. Stewart will lead with Hope, and I will follow behind you on your horse.”

  With Hope in front of Stew
art on the horse, the group made their way back to the house. Eliza greeted them and carried Hope inside.

  “It was difficult watching Hope leave with tears in her eyes,” Stewart confessed to Nanny once the child was out of sight.

  “Indeed, the poor thing was nervous, but the tears disappeared and her face lit with a smile the moment she saw her uncles.”

  “Marcus and Joshua? They were with Anna?” Stewart asked, surprised but pleased by the revelation.

  “They were with their mother when we arrived. Marcus approached and held Hope in his arms when Anna introduced herself. I believe Anna was envious of the rapport they share. Anna lacks any level of comfort when it comes to dealing with young children. She remained close to her sons while in Hope’s company. She was astounded by Hope’s resemblance to Natasha.”

  “By the report it seems Hope had a rewarding time.”

  “Joshua and Anna stood by the side while Marcus joined Hope in the sandbox and then pushed her on the swing. The child enjoyed the day.” Nanny paused, and then continued, “Anna is hopeful Hope will be raised—”

  Before they wed, he and Natasha discussed the rearing of children. They had agreed to raise their family in the same manner as his upbringing. His parents would support him. It was imperative Nanny realize this. What Anna or the king wanted was of no interest to him. Not interested in either Anna or Nanny’s opinion, he cut in, interrupting Nanny. “My daughter is a Donovan. She’ll be encouraged to show her emotions when she feels it appropriate to do so. I will also encourage independence, for her to voice her opinion when it is backed by knowledge.”

  “That will be difficult for Anna—”

  “Her views on the topic don’t concern me. Speak with Anna regarding a monthly schedule for her visit.” Stewart did not wish to discuss this any further. “Have you heard from the lawyer regarding the King’s challenge for Hope’s custody?” he asked.

  “They will be sitting with the judge this week.”

  “I wish to spend time with Hope before we dine.”

  * * *

  Still seated at the table, Hope was playing with the food on her plate as the adults finished their wine. Exhausted from his lack of sleep, the long journey home, and the anxiety of the day, Stewart lacked patience. She needed to eat and mind her manners, not play at meal time. He placed his wine glass beside his dirty plate and glared at her.

  “Hope, you must finish your meal,” he scolded. “Nana prepared it especially for you.”

  Hope gripped a handful of food and threw it on the floor between them. She screamed at him in defiance and babbled childishly.

  “Hope,” he scolded in a louder voice. “Nanny, Momma, my humble apologies. I’m not accustomed to Hope misbehaving in such a fashion.”

  After a second scream, Hope threw a handful of food across the table. The mashed potatoes splattered, narrowly missing Vicki and Nanny. Infuriated, Stewart pushed himself from the table and reached for his daughter, picking her up. She kicked and screamed. Eliza pushed her chair back and stood.

  “Eliza, take your seat,” Willard ordered.

  “I shall—”

  “You shall remain seated and allow your son to deal with his daughter.”

  “The child is overtired. She missed her usual afternoon nap.”

  “Stewart is aware of that.”

  “This behaviour will not be tolerated,” Stewart responded angrily. With Hope wailing in protest, Stewart carried her out of the room and up the staircase.

  “Momma,” Hope bellowed. “Want Momma.”

  Fighting to restrain his tears, he carried his daughter down the hallway and into her bedroom.

  “Momma has gone to heaven, sweetheart.” Holding Hope’s body against his own with one hand, he crawled onto her bed. He wrapped his arms and legs around her body as she continued to fight him. Tears streamed down his cheeks and soaked the blanket. Hope continued to cry. Closing his eyes, he could only pray it would get easier. Natasha. Where are you? You promised to remain by my side. I need your help. Hope wants her momma.

  Exhausted from the events of the day and unable to budge from his grip, Hope stopped fighting, let out a sigh, and fell asleep on his chest. Relieved and equally exhausted, Stewart closed his eyes. He intended to rise once was Hope was in a deep sleep, but drifted off.

  Feeling the warmth of a body next to his, Stewart took a deep breath, thankful Natasha’s death was nothing but a terrible nightmare. She was lying next to him as he slept. He smiled. “I love you.”

  Opening his eyes, his heart broke. It wasn’t Natasha, but Hope snuggled beside him, fast asleep with her head resting against his side. With the evening’s events fresh in his mind, disappointment consumed him. It was not a dream. Natasha was gone. A single tear ran down his cheek and onto the pillow. Hoping he had only been sleeping a few minutes, he kissed the side of Hope’s head, slid his body from hers, and crawled off the bed. “I love you, Hope.”

  He left the room and walked down the hallway. Vicki’s door was closed for the evening, but there were voices from the main level—his parents. Their conversation stopped when he came into their view.

  “I must apologize to Nanny. It was my intent to return once Hope settled,” he admitted. Stewart sat on the sofa, across from his parents.

  “Is Hope sleeping?” his father asked.

  “Indeed. We both slept,” he mumbled. He placed his hand over his mouth, fighting a yawn. “I pray her behaviour does not become routine after visiting Anna.”

  “Do not fret,” Eliza reassured. “After the excitement of the day, she required some quiet time. Next month, she will be kept occupied after her visit with quiet activities. I will plan an earlier meal. We will have her settled in bed before she becomes overtired and cranky.”

  Hearing movement on the staircase, Stewart turned. Hope wandered into the room, rubbing her eyes.

  “She’s still in her dress,” Momma groaned.

  “Sweetheart, you’re supposed to be sleeping,” Stewart whispered, extending his arms. He lifted her onto his knee. Hope instinctively put her head against his chest and closed her tired eyes. “You owe an apology,” he informed her. “You ruined dinner with a guest present.”

  Hope opened her eyes, squirmed off his lap, and shuffled to her nana. She was giving a big hug when her stomach rumbled.

  “Come to the kitchen with Nana. You can’t sleep with a gurgling tummy.”

  Stewart and his father were left in the parlour to talk.

  A short time later, Hope and Eliza returned. His mother took the child upstairs to get ready for bed. She brought the weary toddler back down to the parlour to say her good-nights. Hope climbed onto Stewart’s lap and was sleeping within minutes. After saying goodnight, Stewart carried Hope to her bed, tucked her in, and wandered into his own bedroom. He was drifting off to sleep when he heard movement outside his door. Exhausted, unable to lift his head off his pillow, he struggled to open his eyes.

  “Poppa? I want Momma,” she whimpered.

  “As do I, sweetheart. God has special plans for Momma in heaven.”

  Hope should sleep in her own room. I can’t get out of bed. I lack both the energy and the inclination. He lifted the sheets, inviting her to join him. Sniffling softly, Hope snuggled her back tight against his chest.

  “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

  * * *

  A week later, Stewart was outside playing with Hope and Goldie when a horse and rider came up the driveway. The messenger handed him a telegram. Seeing the envelope with the court emblem, he thanked the rider. Gripping Hope’s hand, he walked to the back of the house. Momma was removing the washing from the line and folding the clothing. He wished his father was home from work. This would either be a great moment, or the one of the worst of his life, second only to discovering Natasha took her life.

  “Momma,” he called. “I believe this contains the court’s ruling regarding the custody hearing.”

  “Please have mercy,” she implored the heavens. “P
lease, God, do not let them cause my family more grief.” She wiped her hands on her apron and extended her arms for Hope. She kissed her little cheek and gave her a snuggle. “Stewart, I beg of you. Open it. I do not possess your patience.”

  Stewart broke the seal, unfolded the paper, and read through the formalities before reaching the verdict.

  “Your eyes are sparkling. It must be good news.”

  Stewart looked at his momma, took Hope into his arms and handed Momma the legal letter. “You shall remain with Poppa and Aunt Vicki, Nana and Papa,” he boasted ecstatically. He kissed Hope’s forehead.

  “This is pleasing news indeed,” she admitted. “Willard will be equally thrilled. The judge is an intelligent man. He cannot justify removing the child from her birth father knowing it was the mother’s wish. We must thank the lawyer.”

  “I shall smile as I write the cheque. I do not harbour regret knowing Natasha’s family is paying for his superior work.” Stewart took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I can attempt to move on with my life now that I know Hope will remain with me.”

  * * *

  Two weeks later, Hope was chattering to Stewart, Eliza, and Vicki as they walked down the steps and into the kitchen. Willard was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper. Stewart released Hope’s hand, ruffled her already messy hair, and watched her rush to her papa.

  “You appear ready for a nap,” Willard teased, extending his arms to her. “You sleep in that attire.”

  She giggled. “No nap, Papa. Hungy. Bekfes.”