A Moment Forever

by Cat Gardiner

  She harrumphed. “Six casserole dishes, all different designs. My seventy-three year old grandfather is a total Don Juan!”

  Apparently, the two of them had been up for some time—coffee was made and there were those pink Sweet-n-Low packets on the counter. He didn’t use a sugar substitute. So they must be hers, Juliana assumed with a curled lip. Her irritation was growing by the minute, fueled by the unexpected presence of this presumptuous woman.

  She poured a mug of coffee, grabbed her blue Tiffany box, and walked to the balcony to wait for her grandfather’s expected shit-eating grin to arrive. Today, she would find it neither cute nor endearing.

  Even on a Sunday, the tram soared above the East River, and she sat back, cradling the warm mug in both hands. She forced her thoughts to Jack and the good vibe she had felt on Wednesday night, their near kiss, and her growing affection for him. In fact, she had thought about that night frequently, and how he really was a “ducky shincracker.” All the horrific revelations of “die familie” seemed to pale when stacked against the beating of her heart when he held her.

  She wouldn’t admit it then, but she’d admit it to herself now: she was feeling pretty darned happy about their growing relationship. Maybe romance and a good man—a man worth putting her heart out there for—did exist. Jack Robertsen was the first guy to make her feel something meaningful, and she actually found herself excited, even hopeful. When he phoned her the following morning to tell her how he hadn’t stop thinking about her, she could no longer rationalize her insecure excuse that only Primrose’s magical spell was the likely cause for his romantic interest. He left her with no doubt that it was her.

  The apartment door closed and Juliana heard the glass carafe slide back into the drip coffee maker, followed by the slider to the balcony, scraping along the track. She took in her grandfather’s appearance. His hair was still wet and slicked back, a whiff of Fahrenheit aftershave overpowered her. He also wore the anticipated mischievous gleam in his eyes that spoke volumes to her. In her opinion, he looked twenty years younger, wearing blue jeans and a polo shirt, but that didn’t stop her anger from flowing and the subsequent verbal assault. The unveiling of too many secrets—by others—all strangers—had set her on this warpath.

  “You really need to start talking. How was I to know you were knocking boots with some fourth floor floozy? You should sign up for that TTY service the deaf use through New York Telephone and call me to let me know when you’re otherwise occupied.”

  Louie knit his brows and sat next to her. She was surprised when he glared at her, then pinched her arm—hard. It was clear to her that he was disciplining her smart mouth, something she was not prone to do.

  “I brought you bialys. Do you want one, or did Lou give you breakfast all ready? Seems like she skipped breakfast and went straight to dessert.” She knew that was a low blow, but couldn’t help herself in spite of the pinch and, as expected, he pinched her again for her smart ass comment.

  “I just didn’t expect to see someone half naked in your apartment.”

  He sipped his coffee and watched the tram; suddenly remorse replaced anger, and Juliana was unable to withhold her compassion for her grandpa. She couldn’t help speculating on the loneliness he must feel since the love of his life passed away. After forty-four years, he had suddenly found himself alone, single and most likely feeling the effects of aging. He was still overwhelmed by grief at losing both his wife and son within the course of two years and missed them terribly.

  Juliana reached out and smoothed his hand, realizing that apart from her, touch was absent from his life and most likely his lady friend’s, too. Everyone needed touch, a caress, something to say, “I care.”

  She was surprised when his hand slid from hers. “I’m sorry, Grandpa. I never intended to be so angry or judgmental, but I am angry with you, only not for the reasons you think. Please believe me. I guess, I just miss Mimi, too, and it’s hard for me to accept that other ladies may enter your life. I mean, it’s not as though you’re looking to fall in love or anything. That kind of love only happens once in a lifetime.”

  He shook his head and pursed his lips, and she wasn’t sure if he was disagreeing with that statement or just plain disagreeing because he was pissed off at her for being rude to Louise and a brat to him. Damn, I’m messing this up.

  She tilted her head to garner his attention away from the view and his coffee. “Please forgive me?”

  He smiled forgiving her as only a beloved grandfather would.

  “Thank you. I came by early today to talk to you about a few things.” Wringing her hands together, she paused briefly, and he searched her face.

  “I’m really angry with you and Mimi. I just don’t know how to begin to talk with you about it. So, let me just start by telling you that I met a great guy, Grandpa. I really like him and think that maybe … I could let myself, I don’t know, really fall for him.”

  Louie grinned from ear to ear.

  “He’s Lizzy’s grandson.” She reached into the Tiffany box before acknowledging his shock, oblivious to how he gripped the edge of the chair with his free hand.

  Juliana removed a letter from the box. “I’ll get to that in a minute, but first there’s this letter in Uncle’s pile that I’d like to read to you if it’s okay.”

  “December 19, 1942

  My Dear Boy,

  I know you have not had time to write since, I am sure, you are settling into life at the airbase where you will fly to Europe from, but just a word of your arrival will do my heart good.

  How wonderful it was for your vader and me to see you off in Florida, how proud we are of you. I still cry when I think of what your sweet Elizabeth had done for us. When we received her telegram with all the arrangements, we could hardly believe it.

  I know that I cried as shamelessly as I did when your broeder left, but you are my baby. As though it was yesterday, I remember holding you in my arms for the first time. How chubby you were. One day after you’re married, I will look forward to the blessing of your own children and holding yours and Elizabeth’s babies in my arms.

  G-d will guide you and watch over you. He will keep you safe. Remember to pray, remember this: “Be strong and take heart, and have no fear of them: for it is the YHVH your G-d who is going with you; he will not take away his help from you.”

  I wrote this to your broeder, too, but now he writes how beautiful the Pacific Islands are when I know he does so for my benefit. Perhaps I should write him a verse or two about lying. It is not as though your vader and I do not read the newspapers or go to the cinema. I know my zoon’s handwriting, and he shakes. He feels he must keep his thoughts and experiences a secret. Keep him in your prayers. He needs your letters.

  We were surprised you would make such a sudden request but, rest assured, your vader and I have already found a suitable house for when you return home and propose to Elizabeth. He is currently negotiating with the Guggenheim family for its purchase in Dutch Flatbush. What a beautiful home and what a project you have laid at our feet, my zoon! In my busyness, I will nary have time to bite my nails in worry over my boys, and will be so engrossed in making a suitable home for you and your girl that I may hardly have time to write you. I am just kidding, of course. She will be so surprised and I promise to make it very special for her. We are both happy that you decided to spend some of the money your tante sent from France. Estella would want it that way. It is your money to do as you wish. Do not worry so about your broeder. He will have your vader’s share of the business.

  We live in wait for word. Your vader and I pray together, and we remain hopeful that your tante and grootvader are safe. We have gone to the French Consulate on Fifth Avenue, but they are of no help and there is no word even from the neighbor whom I wrote to.

  Be safe my zoon. We love you and miss you,

  Your moeder

  Juliana folded the letter and watched as a tight smile formed upon her grandfather’s lips. Finally, she reached into the
box again and removed an item she found last night, waiting for discovery in a small box within the hope chest. She unwrapped the blue velvet, uncovering the item to reveal an antique, sterling silver mezuzah. “Lizzy’s grandson is Jewish. Just like Uncle William.”

  He took the mezuzah from her hand, rubbing his thumb against the Hebrew lettering with affectionate tenderness.

  “I started out today with a bazillion things I wanted to admonish you about, but somehow they’ve all faded. I’m mad at you, but seeing this expression on your face now, seems to lessen my anger. I was prepared to yell at you about not telling me that I have a huge family out there or about Mimi’s brave American Red Cross history, or her finding the children in the forest. I’m shocked and saddened that you both chose to keep from me the horrific history of her Renner family. It makes my skin crawl to know that I’m related to a Nazi, someone who had a role in the murder of millions, but hanging onto my anger over that doesn’t do me any good. It was fifty years in the past, and I suppose it was Frederick Renner’s actions that caused such heroism in Mimi. That’s how I’m going to look at it.”

  She held his gaze, their eyes locked, his smile still tight as he nodded in agreement. “If it weren’t for my grandmother then Lizzy never would have adopted Henri, one of the children, and Jack, the guy I like, wouldn’t have been born, nor would have the descendants of the other four children she saved.”

  Louie furrowed his brow, confused by her last statement.

  “Did you not know about Lizzy adopting one of the children in 1945? Did you know that there is a tribute paid to Mimi in the Long Island Holocaust Museum in Glen Cove?”

  He shook his head and brought the mezuzah to his heart, holding it in place.

  “But all that doesn’t take away the fact that my own father and grandparents chose to keep all of it a secret from me. I found out from strangers, Grandpa.”

  Louie reached out his hand, taking hers into his grasp. He bowed his head contritely.

  Her heart clenched at the image he presented. “Lizzy’s alive, you know, and Kitty is going to arrange for me to meet her. Kitty also took me to the museum to tell me about Mimi.”

  She observed how her grandfather swallowed hard, without a doubt affected by the news. “Anyway, that religious article in your hands?—I found yesterday, but on Wednesday I discovered a bunch of other things hidden in a wall behind a painting. Did William convert to Judaism when he came back from the war?”

  Louie looked out at the tram, lost in his thoughts for a long moment until he raised his hand to his throat and smoothed down the ligature. He forced himself to cough and struggled to form a sound, finally croaking out in a weary, unsure voice. “N … o …” He coughed harder.

  “Oh my G-d!” Juliana dropped from the chair beside him, throwing herself at his feet, handing him his coffee to drink. “Drink, Grandpa, drink. Take it slowly.”

  He guzzled the lukewarm coffee then finally after clearing his throat said, “We … hid it.”

  “I can’t believe you’re speaking! What did you hide?”

  “Our Jud ... aism.”

  “You’re Jewish? The Martels are Jewish?”

  “Just …” he paused, gripping the mug, trying to speak. “Just me, Will, and our mother.”

  “Why ever would you hide your religion? Why deny your family your faith? I don’t understand.”

  Louie brushed Juliana’s hair from her face. No, his treasure wouldn’t understand, never having walked in those shoes, never facing or fearing bigotry, having never seen or read about Pogroms or experienced being hated or shunned strictly because of her religious beliefs. He remembered distinctly, even in high school, how the Jewish students were sent to sit in the back of the classroom.

  “My mother was a Dutch Jewess.”

  He coughed and drank again, but was determined to speak a truth long overdue, one that his brother had admonished him over all those many years ago after the war.

  “She came to American in 1914 outwardly {swallow} pretending to be a Christian, but remained a Jew, raising us … as Jews with the agreement of my father who was Protestant. To the public, we were … a Christian family, but in private … we kept Sabbath and even received our Bar Mitzvahs in a synagogue in Paris in 1934. We learned Hebrew.”

  He paused, drinking again as Juliana sat back on her heels, rubbing his shin up and down in concern. She remained patient, watching how he took his time from the exertion of speaking again. His arthritic hand clung to the mug, trembling when he held it to his lips.

  Louie’s chest expanded in a deep breath. “G-d, it feels good to speak, if only just to tell you that I didn’t appreciate your disrespect to Louise or me earlier.”

  Juliana rose up and hugged her grandfather. “You’re right. I’m so sorry I was mean. Yell at me if you need to. I just want to hear you speak. I’ve missed you so much. I love you.”

  “And I love you, my jewel. There’s more to tell you, so let me speak it all because when I am gone the story dies with me.” He rose from the chair and walked to the railing of the balcony, looking out at the tram. This was hard. He never thought he’d share this history with anyone, but from the start had hoped that Juliana would discover it on her own. “Our family business, the DeVries Diamond House was established by my mother’s father, Willem in Amsterdam. Upon my parents’ betrothal, he asked my father to run the business as his own—as a Christian business to further its growth, as well as to protect its assets.”

  He looked over his shoulder to where Juliana had taken a seat, making sure she was attentive to this part especially. She sat ramrod in her chair, listening.

  “You see, some Jews concealed their true faith expecting that history might one day repeat itself and persecution would come again.”

  He paused at her nod of understanding and recouped his labored breath, resting his sore throat. She waited patiently until he began again.

  “It did come again, in Russia and then the Second War. Just before the Nazis invaded the Netherlands, my aunt sent all our European assets by courier to my brother: diamonds, money, jewelry and treasured heirlooms to protect our family’s wealth from being plundered by invading armies or confiscated by Nazi officials. That is the money he gave to you. His share of the diamond business. And when I am gone you will have mine, too, and you will give it to your children and grandchildren in honor of the DeVrieses.”

  “But you never said anything about the faith of your family, or the details of the family business.”

  “You were wrong about your father keeping this all from you. He never knew—I never told him. After the war, religion of any sort seemed so pointless to me, but it was important to your grandmother that we christen Gordon in her faith. That was one of several reasons for my falling out with Will.” His voice was weakening and he stopped speaking abruptly, cleared his throat, and rubbed his neck. When he began his voice had grown raspy. “At the time of your father’s christening in 1949, my brother and I suspected that our aunt and grandfather had been deported and had most likely perished during the occupation of France. The roundups in July of ’42 ...” his voice trailed off. “In 1980, your great-uncle traveled to Paris, demanding answers from the government in regard to our family’s whereabouts. He discovered that they were sent to Auschwitz.”

  Juliana gasped. “Oh G-d! That’s terrible. You’re speaking of the The Vel d’Hiv, Grandpa! Lizzy is making Jack take her to the fiftieth commemoration next month.”

  Louie was astonished. “Really? Why would she do that?”

  “There is so much to tell you about Lizzy. I just don’t know where to begin.” She rose from the chair and walked to him. “I guess the best place to begin is to tell you that I’m leaving for Alaska on Friday to bring your brother home.”

  “He’s in Alaska?” Louie snorted a laugh. “Only a vaporhead would think he could escape his past and memories by moving to Alaska. What a jackass. When you see him, tell him he owes me two bucks with fifty years of interest.”
<
br />   “I will. I promise. Now, please tell me all about your aunt and grandfather. I want to know everything about them.”

  Louie clutched her hand in his. Yes, it felt good to speak again.

  ~~*~~

  Apart from his forty-eight foot sailboat, Liberty, Jack’s grandparents’ home, Evermore, was one of the happiest places on earth for him. Although he had traveled the world these last ten years, no destination had offered such perfect harmony and beauty than the estate in Mill Neck, Long Island. Peaceful views of Mill Neck Creek lent to the appeal of meticulously manicured grounds and expansive English gardens.

  It almost seemed sacrilegious to disturb the tranquility surrounding the estate when his black, Kawasaki motorcycle arrived, bringing its cacophony of noise toward the house. But today was a perfect day for a bike ride. In fact, he needed this ride for what lay ahead of him—a visit with his grandmother.

  With the white mansion in sight, Jack rode his bike up the drive. The sweet aroma of the blooming honeysuckle penetrated his helmet, and the picturesque water to his left provided a sudden calm. The happy image of his grandfather fishing at the shoreline popped into his mind’s eye. They had never been able to catch a thing because laughter was part of every moment spent with his dad and Grandpop John. The three of them were sure to scare off more fish with their raucous hilarity than could ever be caught.

  The motorcycle’s wheels crunched the white gravel of the long driveway, and he stopped before the entrance, dismounted, and removed his helmet. Similar to his actions at Meercrest, Jack breathed in the intoxicating fragrance of flowers, herbs, and the sea, a distinct bouquet he could never replace or even fully define. It seemed particular to old Long Island, which, to him, represented the scent of home. He vowed to move back to the North Shore as soon as he retired; work and travel no longer had any appeal. It’s not as if he needed the money, he rationalized.