A Moment Forever

by Cat Gardiner

  “I can’t stay, Lizzy. I leave in the morning and as inviting as spending the evening with you is, I need to be with my parents. My mother is planning a special meal and it’s important to us to spend my last night together—as a family.”

  “I understand.”

  Will heard the disappointment in her voice and took her free hand. “Thank you for today. It meant a lot to me … I had a swell time.”

  She smiled wistfully. “Me, too. I’ll miss you, Will.”

  Taking a step closer to her, he bridged the small gap separating them and ignored the impropriety. The approaching sound of Kitty’s cumbersome wheelchair provided background noise to the pounding of his heart in his ears.

  “I’ll miss you as well.” He bent to kiss Lizzy sweetly, and she rose to her tiptoes, bending her leg upward when his arm came around her bare waist.

  The kiss remained as chaste as he could manage given that his spirited cookie’s lips were delicious.

  A female throat cleared followed by a giggle, and the sweethearts separated in a start. Lizzy’s hand went to her lips when Will stepped back from her, creating a wide space between them.

  “Don’t stop on my account,” Kitty laughed. “That looked almost as good as Rhett and Scarlett’s.”

  “Kitty!”

  She giggled again. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but Father has been asking for you for about an hour. He’s been in a foul mood all afternoon and mother’s well … you know … sleeping it off in the tropical house until dinnertime.”

  “I’m sorry, Will. Let me find Mr. Howard and get you some clothing.” She backed away from him, keeping her eyes locked with his, resisting the urge to tear up. “I’ll let Mrs. Davis know you are here and she’ll bring you a soda pop.”

  “I’m fine, Lizzy. I’ll be in good company with Kitty.”

  He watched her departure, once again feeling himself becoming the hungry wolf she had inspired. Unabashedly crazy about her, his eyes drank in her receding form, appreciating her slender waist and the sway of her hips in that wet, cotton skirt of hers. What a day he had, what an incredible afternoon—so much better than the Cyclone at Coney Island. Again, he thought how Louie had steered him in the right direction.

  Kitty cleared her throat again, and he met her playful expression with a sheepish grin.

  “So, you’re in love with my sister?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Are you going to marry her when you come home from fighting?”

  He smirked. “Perhaps.”

  “Will you have room in your house for a girl with a wheelchair to navigate?”

  Will put his hands in his trouser pockets and walked toward where she sat at the threshold between the living hall and the south corridor. “Kitty, I expect that when I come home, you’ll be walking. There’s nothing you can’t do in spite of what others foolishly claim. Heck, by the time I return, you may even be married.”

  “Not likely, Will. Girls like me rarely have opportunities to meet killer-diller boys like you.”

  He leaned down to her ear, covered by cascading blonde curls. “Think big, Kitty. With a little encouragement from my brother, I finally did and now your killer-diller sister has agreed to be my girl.”

  As though the air was suddenly sucked from the room, Renner entered from the north corridor, bursting into the quiet conversation of hope and optimism, bringing a dark, commanding disharmony. His navy blue, double-breasted suit fit snuggly and the expression on his face looked almost choleric.

  Kitty sat upright immediately, her smile disappearing in a flash, her hand instantly gripping the arm of the wicker chair tightly.

  “What goes on here?”

  “Father, you remember Lieutenant Martel from Memorial Day, don’t you? He’s visiting from Brooklyn.”

  Like two bulls about to ram, they both stood tall. Will towered over the stout man who repulsed him in every way but, out of respect for Lizzy, he composed his expression and walked toward her father with an outstretched hand. “Mr. Renner, it’s a pleasure to see you again. You have a magnificent home.”

  Renner, chin raised, stared him down when their hands met almost painfully. His eyes came to rest on the gold and diamond insignia ring the flyer wore. “Of course it is. Built with railroad money, young man.” Scornful gray eyes locked with inscrutable brown ones. “I remember you. You’re that patriotic idealist, off to fight what you view as tyranny.”

  Will readily saw through the now phony smile plastered upon Renner’s face. “Yes, I suppose I am a patriotic idealist.”

  “It is a noble position, one all sides of this war embody. Will you be leaving soon to fight, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, sir, I leave tomorrow. Your daughter, Lizzy, and I enjoyed a day out on the Sound until the rain. The hydroplane is an impressive boat.”

  “Nothing but the best for my Lizzy.” His eyes drew to where Kitty sat, seemingly dismissing her, causing her to leave the room. The departing squeak of the chair’s wheels filled the hall as Renner boasted, “One day, my daughter will marry someone from our elite society and that little Chris-Craft boat of hers will be but a small pittance in her holdings.”

  “And what if she chooses to marry a patriotic idealist with very little wealth but enough love to make her happy?”

  Renner took a step forward, leaning in toward Will, his tone grave yet confident, the smile gone. “That will never happen so long as I live.”

  Will narrowed his eyes, thankful his brother wasn’t there to elbow him in the ribs or kick him under the table. “Well, perhaps, you won’t live long enough to see it happen when it does.”

  “Oh, I assure you I will.” Hubris infused his self-satisfied chortle throughout the hallway as Lizzy approached. “It would appear that with you headed to Europe, your odds of survival are a lot smaller than mine.”

  Lizzy’s melodious voice rang out when her effervescent breath of fresh air entered the living hall. “Father, you remember Will, right?”

  She knew it was a stupid question but it was the only one she could think of given the serious expression upon her flyboy’s face as she came upon the uncomfortable scene.

  Renner smiled, pretending to be imperturbable. “How can I forget? We were just re-acquainting ourselves and discussing who will be the victor … in the war of course.”

  Holding a bundle of clothing, Lizzy stood between the two men in her life she loved. Her father—the first and most influential man—owned her heart from the beginning of life in this affluent society. But this humble flyboy was opening a whole new world to her, encouraging her in ways that gave her optimistic hope and determination for the future. Proud, yet guilt ridden, she was coming to feel that Will’s opinions meant more to her than her father’s. His were becoming a great disappointment.

  “Why, America will win, of course!” she exclaimed.

  Will watched as Renner controlled the shielded scowl behind the contrived smile, even as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly when he took in his daughter’s flush cheeks and still swollen lips.

  Lizzy handed the neatly folded pile to Will. “I’ll show you to the powder room where you can change. Mr. Howard is about your physique. Excuse us Father, Will has a train to catch back to the city.”

  Once again, Will extended his hand, ending their standoff with both clearly understanding the position of the other. “Mr. Renner.”

  “Lieutenant Martel. I wish you good luck. You’re going to need it.”

  “Thank you, sir.” He turned his focused gaze toward Lizzy’s quizzical brow. “I have all the luck I need. Lizzy’s my good luck charm.”

  They left Renner standing with furious, tight lips beside the antique parlor suite, his rigid hand gripping the frame of the sofa.

  ~~*~~

  Twelve

  How Little We Know

  June 1992

  “What do you mean you can’t go with me, Max?” Juliana groaned into the telephone receiver craned between her shoulder and her chin as she folded the letter
she held.

  “I’m sorry, Julie. All of a sudden, Andy’s become a little too clingy. He’s decided to forego golfing Saturday, instead wanting to take me away to Cape Cod for an extended weekend.”

  “You’re joking, right? You’re sending me into this meeting with Newsday all by myself? You know, I knew, just knew, you would back out, you sneaky girl you.”

  Maxine laughed. “You’ll do fine. Remember, you’re the girl who ambushed Donna Karan into an interview at New York Fashion Week last year, so a meeting with Jack Robertsen should be a walk in the park. He’s harmless, hon, a real pussycat and he’s offered to get access to the archives going back to the inception of the newspaper in 1940. Who knows, you might find all the answers, maybe even get a date out of it.”

  Juliana lightly traced her fingertips over her great-grandmother’s handwriting on the envelope she was examining. “Doubtful. He’ll probably run for the hills when he gets one look at me. Say, do you know what ik mis je means?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Ik mis je. My great-grandmother signed off a letter to William with that phrase. It’s Dutch. She was Dutch.”

  “No, I don’t know, but take the letter with you. Maybe Jack can ask one of their foreign writers. He may even know since he travels the world for the paper.”

  “Oh, I intend on taking all the letters. After spending three hours, making a list of the contents of the footlocker, I have even more questions than when I began. Fifteen letters into the stack and so far, I’ve been able to discover that the M in the photograph stands for Meercrest, Lizzy’s home on Long Island and that Rosebriar Manor was also her home in Sarasota, Florida. And they had a townhouse in the city—name yet to be disclosed.

  “Mansion in the city? That makes sense. Many of those affluent Gold Coasters had winter retreats in Florida and townhouses in Manhattan. Long Island was technically their summer retreat, but many lived there year round. Finding her family should be easy for Jack now that you know the estate name.”

  “Great! I also have discovered that William and Lizzy’s first magical kiss was on the carousel in Central Park after they sneaked on just before closing. Other letters describe her volunteering for the Victory Book Campaign, collecting books and sorting them into piles to send them overseas to the GIs. I never even knew about that amazing stuff. She writes him about driving the library’s bookmobile to keep people from wasting rubber and gas, stuff like that.”

  “So she’s still trying to impress him.”

  “No, it’s more than that. Her letters tell him of life at home and what she is doing. I can really feel her love of volunteering—not so much to impress him, but because she’s taking pride in it. Every one of her letters is upbeat and clearly expresses how much she likes him. Reading them gives me a real sense of her spirit and voice. She was a wild one.”

  Juliana opened a particular letter. “Here, listen to this. It’s her first letter about the bookmobile.”

  “June 30, 1942

  My Dear Will,

  I was so happy to receive your long letter this morning, but it made me sad to read about your friend who crashed last week. That poor fella. I’m truly sorry and wish I could be there to comfort you. Please, take care when training, or I just may need to come down there and wrap you in padding. I’d do it, too, you know. As much as I’m not too keen on train travel, I would do it!

  Now, try not to laugh too hard—Mrs. Tinsdale asked me to drive the bookmobile around Glen Cove, even allowing me to go into Suffolk County! Isn’t that a gas? Well, after the first day of driving the painfully slow Victory Speed of 35, I was ready to burst unable to adhere to the forced speed limit. Needless to say, I grew impatient. You can imagine the speed in which I now accomplish my route. True, it’s not my Zephyr but it does make great time since I discovered I can take the speedometer up to 50 with barely a shake to the steering column. Ha! I only did it once, so try not to let your fuddy-duddy self rear its ugly head when you chew me out for burning rubber your bomber wheels need. Well, maybe it was more like a few times—but, I promise you, I have not run anyone over or caused anyone to crash into the mud … yet. Although … there was an incident with a squirrel, but it was not my fault at all. I am sure, it was an incognito Nazi saboteur because the bookmobile became stuck alongside Elm Avenue, and I couldn’t deliver the books I had picked up from Mrs. Whitney for the victory campaign. But don’t you worry, speeding isn’t something I’ve done consistently, but several of the Merchant Marine radio operators do cheer me on when my library on wheels kicks up the dust at Oheka Castle. Don’t be jealous, those fellas are working hard while stationed there, but the books are a welcome diversion for them, and I’m glad that Mrs. Tinsdale lets me drive all the way out to Huntington just for them. I did have one MM ask if I had a girlie magazine on the shelves of the truck! I’ll have to work on that. You know—it’s all for the boys! I wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for that kind of magazine. Maybe Johnny will know—but hopefully, you don’t!

  Mrs. Tinsdale also suggested a uniform. Now that is positively lulu! I hope it’s green, so I can look official and match you.

  Speaking of books, I have yet to go through Father’s library at Meercrest. Kitty and I have to time it strategically when he is away from home for an extended period and, if we can, we hope to also do our sorting when Nurse Keller is out on one of her many errands. I have my suspicions that she tells Father everything, so we must remain covert. They’re just books for goodness sake, and going to such a noble cause, but better to be safe than sorry. Kitty and I are having a swell time, and we would hate for him to put the kibosh on the successful progress we are making. Given that the bookmobile is considered “essential to the war effort,” I get a whole eight gallons of gasoline a week using a B ration coupon. Where else can I be permitted to get behind the wheel and drive like a hotrod? Are you shocked that I even know what a B ration coupon is? I even know what blue food stamps are!

  Did you read the newspaper this morning? I was shocked to read about the Nazi saboteurs who came ashore in Amagansett on the south fork of the island. It positively frightens the dickens out of me—Nazis here in America! Funny thing, though, the paper mentioned that all those men were part of something called the German-American Bund. I can’t be sure, but I vaguely remember Ingrid attending a summer camp and she always referred to herself as a Bundist. Perhaps, that’s a common term for campers? I’ll have to look into that, maybe ask Johnny. Lately, my sister seems more sympathetic to the German plight than the Allies fighting and winning the war, and like my mother, parrots my father on many of his beliefs. Is this something I need to be concerned about or have I been reading too many novels and spending too much time at the movies?

  No, I have not had another run in with GG, but if I did, I would have no qualms about running him over. Vile man! And since reading Agatha Christie’s “N or M”, I wouldn’t doubt if he were a Nazi spy and the squirrel his cohort! See there I go again—too many novels.

  I’m off to the Cove movie theater tonight with some of my girlfriends. Dreamy Tyrone Power is set to romance Joan Fontaine in “This Above All.” I’ll let you know all about it after I determine if his kisses were as romantic as yours.

  Now, when you write me back, please, please, please practice your penmanship or sit at a typewriter! You are making me whacky. It took me nearly thirty minutes to figure out that the curls on my head make you dizzy and not frizzy! Sheesh, some way to woo a girl! Ha Ha. Make sure you tell me all about the places you have visited in Tampa. You absolutely must visit the Colonnade for lunch and enjoy a juicy burger and an olive in your Coca-Cola! My next letter will tell you all about Rosebriar Manor, our winter home in Sarasota.

  Yours,

  PPL (Pistol Packin’ Lizzy)”

  Smiling, Juliana carefully folded the letter after reading the contents. Apart from the Nazi reference, it was a happy letter and made her feel giddy. She laughed when Maxine said,

  “She’s positively lulu!”<
br />
  “Well he is a ducky shincracker dreamboat, so I can understand her being so keen on him.”

  “You have a lot of good leads in that letter alone, so go forth, darling, and I’ll look forward to reading this article when it wraps up. If you need anything, I have my beeper on, so don’t hesitate. Good luck today.”

  “Thanks for the meeting, Max. I’ll let you know if I think Jack is swell or not.”

  “Did people really talk like that? Remind me to ask my dad about some of his slang.”

  ~~*~~

  Although she could have driven her Jeep, the city girl in Juliana had always felt more comfortable on subways and trains. The Long Island Railroad followed by a taxi brought her to Newsday’s headquarters in the county seat of Mineola.

  At precisely nine in the morning, she sat in the waiting room, looking professional and stylish wearing a cream-colored pantsuit and high heels. Apart from Maxine’s description of Jack being a gorgeous hunk, she didn’t know anything about him and given Juliana’s petite, five feet, two inch frame, she figured the extra height couldn’t hurt. Sitting with her legs crossed, she nervously bounced her foot in the air, waiting and listening to the receptionist answer telephone call after telephone call with a nasal Long Island accent, “Newsday, please hold. Newsday, please hold.”

  A new, even larger Tiffany box of letters and photographs sat concealed in the accountant-sized briefcase Juliana oftentimes took with her on assignment, and she resisted the urge to read the next letter in the stack calling to her. Although her pursuit began out of curiosity, it had unexpectedly morphed into so much more. There was no doubt in her mind—she was obsessed with this story. So obsessed that the questions lingering out there unanswered felt heavy, yet she didn’t want to rush the process, feeling the innate need to draw closer to Lizzy and William so to better understand their relationship and the depth of their love. It was difficult for her to put their full wartime romance together from only one-sided communication, but she hoped, with Jack’s help, she might find some of Lizzy’s sisters and interview them.