A Moment Forever

by Cat Gardiner

  “Many years later, I learned that through the tireless efforts of the United States Committee for the Care of European Children, 1387 orphans came to America via President Truman’s ‘Directive of Displaced Persons’ in 1946. Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait that long. I can still remember that one cold day in February of ’45 I stood all bundled up, holding Giselle’s hand, with the three other children and some official woman at an active London airfield where the RAF planes flew in and out around us. A beautiful woman, dressed in fur, descended the stairway from a private plane. I was fascinated, even at that tender age, watching her hat flap in the breeze, and her gloved hand grab it before it flew away. When she and the smiling man, beside her walked right to us, she squatted, and, speaking in French, her green eyes sparkled when she said, “Hello, how would you children like to fly to America in that swell airplane with me?’ She took hold of my tiny hand and that was when I fell in love with my new mother.”

  ~~*~~

  Eighteen

  Don’t Cry

  October 5, 1942

  It was late in the evening and the majority of the residents of Meercrest had long retired. Immediately following dinner, Frances bid the girls a hasty goodnight, seeking the solace of her nightcaps in the privacy of her own suite. Even Kitty sought solitude this evening after a violent argument with Gloria at the dinner table. Mrs. Davis, having turned down Lizzy’s bed last, had retreated to the servants’ cottage for the night. The patriarch had business in the city.

  Lizzy sat at her ornate vanity, her dark curls set free from their usual pinning, clearly just brushed out and shining, they swept over her shoulder. Her head tilted slightly, long locks reaching the surface her forearms rested upon as she wrote a letter, lost in dreamy remembrances of Will.

  October 6, 1942

  My Dearest Darling,

  Sweetheart, I received your letter dated September 29 and wish I knew all the right words to say to ease your worry. Is it possible that your grandfather and aunt are traveling to the south of France or the Riviera? I read Monaco is neutral in this war and a visit to Monte Carlo would be a perfect holiday. I suppose anyone living in Paris would tire of seeing swastikas at every turn, so maybe they decided on a getaway far from those terrible Nazis! Is it unusual that you have not heard from your auntie in three months? Perhaps the war has delayed postal delivery?

  As I promised you, let us talk of happy things. I am sure you won’t believe me when I tell you that I listened to the last game of the World Series on the radio yesterday. Yes, even a society girl enjoys baseball. Given my love of sports, I am quite keen on it. I have Johnny to thank for that! I knew that if you were not training, you and the boys would be assembled in the officer’s club. I wanted to be with you even if through the airwaves. I closed my eyes imagining that you and I were seated beside one another in Yankee Stadium listening to the crack of Phil Rizzuto’s bat in the first inning when he hit that home run. The weather was divine and I imagined the smell of the hot dog we shared and the cotton candy available in spite of the sugar ration. I even imagined our sugary, sticky lips stuck together when you kissed me afterward. Oh daddy, what a kiss you gave!! On our date, I wore a navy skirt, a smart white blouse with little red stars. I didn’t wear a hat, but instead rolled my hair just right to show off another darling flower. Can you see it? I felt so patriotic sitting in the grandstands with my flyboy as you taught me what a center fielder does and what an RBI means (even though I knew already.) Later, we shared a box of Cracker Jacks and I found two prizes! One horseshoe charm for you and a ring for me! Gosh, I had a swell time on our date! Even though the Yankees didn’t win, it didn’t matter. You and I were together in New York City and nothing could have been more lulu than that! Soon this war will be over and you and I will share baseball for real. After this game, though, I just may have to become a St. Louis Cardinals fan, and what will your ever-loving Dodger spirit have to say about that? Worse yet, what would my Giants say? How would I ever be able to show my face at the Polo Grounds when I have turned traitor—first getting stuck on a Dodger’s fan and second rooting for the Cardinals?

  So you’re saying good-bye to Tampa? It hardly seems fair that the Army is relocating you to a smaller airfield next week. You were just settling in. There is nothing in Lakeland that even remotely resembles nightlife. Well, apart from the Sorosis Club, but I have never been. Central Florida is mostly citrus groves, I think. However, Winter Park is not far and many of those who live in Glen Cove have seasonal homes there …

  Lost in her letter writing, Lizzy was oblivious to the soft music surrounding her from the record player in the corner of the room and unaware that Lillian, still in her uniform, stood smiling at her from the doorway.

  Lillian noted how her spirited sister looked almost ethereal, wearing delicate nightclothes in the dimly lit room accented by the soft yellow walls papered with tiny roses. In Lillian’s opinion, Lizzy was one of the lovliest women she knew, and now in the ambient lighting, the rosy hue to her cheeks made her even lovelier.

  Silently standing there, she observed Lizzy’s crooked little smile, sure that the Martel family religious secrets had yet to be divulged. Otherwise her sister’s thoughts would have been troubled rather than pleasant. Will was more cautious than Louie, much more protective of his family history, particularly having ascertained some of the Renners’ political opinions. But those were Will’s secrets to share with Lizzy. Besides, as far as she knew, her sister’s relationship with him hadn’t progressed beyond letter writing.

  To evade being seen by the family, Lillian had sneaked in through the servants entrance determined to avoid Ingrid’s newest admonishments, vehemently expressed when they recently crossed paths in town.

  She whispered from across the room, “Hi, sissy.”

  Lizzy startled. “Lil! What are you doing here?”

  “I sneaked in. Father’s not at home, is he?”

  “No, he’s in the city, staying at Greystone.”

  “Good, I need to talk with you.”

  Lizzy rose and walked to her sister, the silk dressing gown she wore draped loosely over a sage-colored nightgown. She kissed her sister’s cheek and promptly tugged her into the bedroom then poked her head out the door, looking right then left, before closing it.

  Hard rain assaulted the leaded casement windows, and Lizzy’s attention drew to the closed brocade draperies where flashes of lightning penetrated the edges. It was an eerie night, and she was surprised Lillian would venture out in the stormy weather. Wet, sensible shoes had left a slight mud trail on the carpet, but Lizzy didn’t care. Her sister removed her damp cap; the small red cross above the brim looked so important and official. A sudden chill ran up her spine when Lillian sat on the tufted bench at the foot of the bed.

  “Your hair looks darling. When did you get up the nerve to cut it?” she asked.

  Lillian’s expression lacked enthusiasm and the tone of her voice sounded flat. “Just this morning before my shift.”

  “Is something troubling you? Is it Louie?”

  Lillian sighed. “No, I’m sure Louie is safe. I received a letter from him yesterday. It was dated three weeks ago. He’s fighting somewhere in the Solomon Islands.”

  “The movie newsreels showed footage from the Pacific.” Lizzy knelt at Lillian’s feet, resting her head on her sister’s knees. “Oh, Lil you must be so worried.”

  “He’ll be fine. He has to be. We’re promised to one another.” She petted Lizzy’s soft hair. “Don’t worry, dear heart, Will is going to be fine as well.”

  “I hope so. I’m so afraid for when he leaves for Europe. As it is, he writes how tired he is from class after class, flight simulation at ungodly hours, and patrol missions. He’s worried over Louie and their family in France, but there’s more, which he won’t share. I just don’t know how to help him.”

  Lillian soothingly continued to pet her sister’s hair in long strokes.

  “Where is he now, still at MacDill Airfield?”
>
  “For the moment. Next week, his bomb group will be transferring to another airfield in Lakeland for unit training and mission practice.”

  Lillian swallowed hard, hating to add to her sister’s worry, but she needed to tell her what she came to say.

  “Lizzy … I’m leaving.”

  Lizzy’s head jerked upward. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve transferred from the Motor Corps to the new clubmobiles, and I leave for six weeks training in Washington D.C. I won’t be returning to Glen Cove … ever.”

  “What? Why? This can’t be true!”

  The pained look upon Lillian’s face confirmed the truth of her words. “I’m sorry, Lizzy, but I have to go. My life isn’t here in high society with our parents any longer. Their beliefs are so very different from mine—and from yours and Kitty’s for that matter. If I can give one GI a sliver of humanity in this ugly world then I will. My Louie is out there fighting and very soon, your flyboy will be, too. England may bring me into contact with Will as I travel from airbase to airbase in the truck.”

  “What truck? I don’t understand?”

  “The doughnuts, remember?”

  “Yes. I do remember, but you’re too young. You told me yourself that you had to be twenty-five to go overseas. I don’t understand.”

  “When my superior saw that I attended Finch, finishing a year of college, he made an exception. You know that since December, they have been turning a blind eye to my age.” She snorted. “First time ever I allowed our family name to open a door. They need volunteers on the front lines, and I want to go.”

  Lizzy rose from the floor and began to pace back and forth until she walked to her nightstand and lit a Chesterfield. A deep drag and a lengthy, smooth exhale preceded her repeat of Lillian’s words almost as though trying to convince herself. “You’re leaving. You’re leaving us.”

  “I’m sorry, Lizzy, but I feel I need to be doing more for the war effort. In going abroad, I hope I can make even a small difference. The clubmobiles are new and so important for the boys. Your role is here on the home front with the book drive and with Kitty—helping her.”

  “But, we need you. Lillian … I need you, and you’re ditching me.”

  Lillian rose, looking so official in her black tie and insignia pins. Placing her warm hands upon her sister’s shoulders, she spoke with steadfast authority. “You’ve been managing fine without me these many months and you will continue to do so when I’m gone. I’m so proud of you, truly. You’re more intelligent and stronger than you give yourself credit and certainly not a spoiled socialite any longer. You’re a maturing woman who has a mind of her own, a hefty trust fund and a means in which to not remain tethered to Meercrest.

  Although Lizzy was heartbroken to hear of her sister’s departure, she couldn’t help but to saucily reply. “I was never spoiled. Happy in my partying, yes, but never spoiled.”

  Lillian snorted. “That’s a load of gobbledygook. Besides, you don’t need me. What do you really rely on me for anyway?”

  “Everything, especially emotional support.” She sighed deeply. “I’ll miss you.”

  The rainstorm outside seemed to turn more violent. A sonorous reverberation of thunder circumscribed the conversation, bringing the sisters back to a place where dismay and insecurity of one protested the bravery and independence of the other. Lizzy stepped away, leaving Lillian standing, back to the window and the unseen raindrops that were pelting the hidden panes behind her like wretched tears.

  “Can I change your mind? I’m afraid for you going into war. I read the newspapers and listen to the President’s fireside chats and the CBS World News at night. I know what is going on over there now.”

  “Don’t be afraid for me. Where’s that Lizzy Renner optimism?”

  “Fleeting these days. Now that I’m in the know, I’m not so sappy any longer.”

  Lillian shook her head. “You can’t change my mind. It’s already done. I passed the physical and secured my place. Like Will and Louie, I want to do this and I’m not afraid.”

  Panic rose inside Lizzy. Resolved that she’d do anything to keep a most beloved sister from entering a battle zone, in desperation, she broke her promise to Kitty, blurting, “I don’t think I can keep protecting Kitty from Ingrid.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lizzy snuffed her cigarette out in the ashtray. “I think, she … she tries to hurt her. There was an incident on the landing and afterwards I found Nazi literature in a hat box in Ingrid’s wardrobe about preserving German racial purity, and I think … I mean … it might be remotely conceivable that, that … Ingrid is a believer in sterilization and euthanasia of those who the Nazis deem unfit, that whole master race absurdity.”

  “You’ve found other Nazi propaganda here at Meercrest?”

  “Yes, I’ve been, well … searching.”

  Lizzy knelt beside her bed, sliding out a Bonwit Teller hatbox and lifted the lid. Inside laid several pamphlets and flyers, some in English but most in German. “A few of these I found in Father’s library in the American literature section. Two were tucked in a book from some eugenics organization located here in Cold Spring Harbor. The research they do there is supported by the Carnegies, Rockefellers, and Father’s railroad associates, the Harrimans. I never even knew this Eugenics Record Office existed only ten miles from here.”

  Lillian remained expressionless, staring first at the box and then to her sister, torn between truth telling or lying about what she suspected for some time. “My G-d. You need to burn those, Lizzy, right away.”

  With the romantic music long over, Lizzy’s happy letter to Will had been set aside and replaced by this speculation of heinous acts. She couldn’t even fathom that here in America people advocated this.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but do you think Ingrid sees Kitty as unfit because her polio has left her wheelchair confined? That she considers Kitty an invalid even though she wasn’t born that way?” Lizzy removed a leaflet in German depicting a deformed child, her hand trembling when she passed the paper to her sister. “Look at how horrible this is. It advocates sterilization! Most of these do. Others are horrifically bigoted. I spent some time translating them from an old dictionary I found in the library.”

  “I don’t know for sure about Ingrid, but I do know that Mr. Gebhardt has influence over her and his opinions are sympathetic to Nazism. She’s his lover, you know,” Lillian stated.

  Lizzy sat on her bed beside the round box. Not as shocked as Lillian expected, her sister hesitantly voiced her question, seeking confirmation of what she most-likely suspected already. “His lover? What about Johnny?”

  “What about him? I’m sure she still intends on marrying him for his family’s wealth and prestige. And, as far as I know, Father’s lawyer isn’t listed in the Social Register. Her attraction to that creep is physical not financial. In that regard, she’s not too dissimilar from Gloria. I overheard him having his way with her in the boathouse when I stopped by last week to pick up some of the spare life preservers for donation. I could hear the two of them upstairs in the loft moaning. It was disgusting.”

  “Poor Johnny! I must tell him. What if he ends up marrying her?” It’s not as if she won’t find out about his asthma and think he’s inferior!

  Lillian slid beside her sister and rustled through the box, shaking her head. She removed a disturbing leaflet. “Did Kitty see this literature?”

  Lizzy gasped. “No. G-d, no!”

  “Good. I wouldn’t say anything to John. Don’t get involved in his relationship with Ingrid, especially after what you suspect about her violent streak and now with this material … but if you have proof that either she or Gebhardt are dangerous, well then you need to either turn to John or leave the estate.”

  “You know I can’t leave. You know the gossip and the scandal that would ensue. I’m not as brave as you. I’ll just have to be here more and shelter Kitty as best as I can. I can’t leave her here alone, you know. Mother is u
seless, drunk all the time, and Father is never here. I’ll talk with Mrs. Davis, Mr. Howard, and Jamison.”

  “And Nurse Keller.”

  “No, I don’t trust her. When she smokes her cigarettes she always has an ugly downturn to her mouth.”

  Lizzy’s disturbed thoughts brought her vision to rest upon the photograph sitting beside her bed. Will looked so handsome in his uniform, his dimple winking back at her. All she wanted to do was to run into his arms, far away from Meercrest and the niggling, distressing thoughts and discoveries she had made since that fateful day back in July in the library. Part of her wanted only to go back to living as that uninformed party girl, existing with her head in the sand—and the clouds. Knowledge was proving painful.

  “Lil, what do you know about the Degas Mother just moved from the library to the front entryway?”

  Her sister shrugged. “Nothing really, apart from its beauty. I often imagine Kitty as one of the ballerinas. Why do you ask?”

  “I guess I wouldn’t ask if Ingrid hadn’t recently boasted about the Monet that’s now hanging in her room. Aren’t you the least bit curious about the Degas? I mean, Father isn’t normally an art collector. Even Madam X wasn’t his acquisition but was Grandmother’s.”

  “What are you implying?”

  “I’m not really implying anything, but I am curious. Maybe I’m just looking to find things that aren’t there.” She shrugged a shoulder attempting to dismiss her own sinister speculations. “Too many novels and movies. These pamphlets have me thinking the worst, even of Father. Though nothing points to him holding these beliefs.”

  “Be careful with all these conclusions you are jumping to. It’ll come to no good for either you, Kitty, nor Ingrid.”

  Summoning as much joy as she could find in her heart, Lizzy reached over to Lillian and took her hand. Although she was unhappy with her sister’s news and the discoveries within the hatbox, the brave ARC volunteer needed much more than talk of Nazis and eugenics. She needed support and love.