by Cat Gardiner
“Yeah. That’s just how I found them in the bottom of his military trunk along with all your photographs in the attic.”
A small smile formed on Lizzy’s lips when she slid the first letter out of the beribboned packet. She read the first page and chuckled lightly. “I remember writing this to him. I was utterly devastated thinking him indifferent to me after our first meeting at Meercrest’s Memorial Day lawn party. He was quite a catch in his uniform, very gentlemanly, and I was a little too full of myself!”
“He’s still quite a catch. He’s very handsome and still a gentleman—single, too. Can I ask you something personal?”
Holding the letters up, Lizzy said, “Of course. You know most of it already. Go for it.”
“Do you think it is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all?”
“Well, that’s a very black and white question. Of course, the regret I have is that we had to end at all, but we did, and I would never take away a single moment or memory that we made together or the memories I made with my husband, either. If Will and I had never loved, then my life would have developed into nothing, and who says that a new love can’t take the place of an ended one or …” She chuckled. “… or that a love lost can’t rekindle again. I’ve always been an optimist and the one time I wasn’t, I felt it backed me into a corner. I made the wrong decision when I doubted.
“You’ll see as you mature, Julie, there are all kinds of love that come and go, grow and fade, but all for a purpose and at their rightful time. I truly, truly believe that my time with your great-uncle has come—now. So what did appear as a love lost, wasn’t really lost at all. It just got waylaid until the best time.”
“That’s the optimist in you. I feel the same way and that’s why I’m okay with my grandfather and Louise.”
“I’m glad you see that. They seem happy and I know Lillian, of all people, wouldn’t object to his finding a companion, someone to love and care for him. I hope I answered your question.”
“You did.” Juliana reached into her bag again and removed the plastic sleeve that held the charred remains of Lizzy’s letter to William. She hesitantly held it back for a moment, unsure how to deliver it. “Um, there’s also this. I found it at Primrose Cottage when I first moved in. I’ve never shown or ever mentioned this to Jack, and I’ll continue to hold, what I assume happened, in confidence.” She slid the letter toward Lizzy.
Lizzy hesitantly picked it up and began to read, pursing her lips together to keep from biting her lower one. Her entire body froze at the moment she recognized the burned letter. She vividly remembered that night and her heartache when she penned those words. Only a fragment remained, attesting to Will’s desperate distraught and his decision to burn her sentiment, her good-bye. He had attempted to destroy the tangible proof of their incredible final night together, and in essence, all vestiges of their extraordinary seven months together.
A tear dropped, and then another. Her lips tightened, straining to contain the inner agony, imagining his pain once again. She swiped at her cheek. “I swore I wouldn’t cry anymore, but I just can’t help it. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I understand. I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just, this is the letter that began it all. It’s why I had to find you.”
Closing her eyes, Lizzy nodded. She took a deep breath. “It’s the reason for my flower choices, the First Loves and the Sweet Williams—just as you realized. They remind me of that night following your father’s christening. It was the last time I saw your uncle. Leaving him was the second hardest decision I ever had to make. Thank you for returning this to me, and thank you for not sharing it with Jack.”
A delicate hand reached across to connect with Lizzy’s own that remained resting upon the stack of letters. “I’ll take that secret to the grave.”
“I know you will, Julie. I’m indebted to you for bringing us all together and for healing our family, for unknowingly making us face our demons and share our secrets. We’ve kept them far too long.”
Lizzy contemplated their clasped hands resting upon the letters, wishing she could impart every bit of wisdom and knowledge she had into the smooth youthful ones. Feeling suddenly older than usual she said, “Don’t let Jack get away. He’s such a good man.”
“I have no intentions of letting him go now that I’ve found him—he’s quite a dreamboat!”
They both broke out into a fit of laughter as Lizzy held the fragile letter to her heart, looking ahead to the future and counting down the days until she could see her Ducky.
~~*~~
Forty
Peace Brother!
July 14, 1992
The Hotel Turenne was situated on the Right Bank in the historic and busy Marais section of Paris, just blocks from the famous Place des Voges. Narrow streets boasted fine eateries and local delis with the ethnic flavors of both Ashkenazi and, in the last twenty years, Sephardic Jews. The neighborhood bordered the Pletzl, that little section dominated by the Jewish community that had maintained its heritage even after WWII.
Since Will’s last visit twelve years earlier, the area had seen many changes in the subtle movement toward “gentrification” and was now considered a growing area of affluence. Once considered poor, now its real estate was highly sought after.
He stood overlooking the small balcony of his hotel suite, scanning down at the busy streets of the Pletzl aglow with restaurant and shop lights. He could easily surmise that the old world and tradition would eventually come to blows with the inevitable encroachment of modernization where Jewish butchers and tailors would be replaced by perhaps a McDonalds or even an insulting Hugo Boss shop.
Will sipped his brandy, attempting to calm his nerves. Knowing that Lizzy was in this very hotel had caused him to hide in his room, requesting that room service deliver his dinner tonight. Unfortunately, his trademark rumination over the prior two weeks turned out to be a bad decision. It only fueled his anger. There was no logical mediation or quiet thoughtful study of the facts on the dossier. Worse yet, the de Havilland floatplane still sat oil-less at the dock and a small, newly discovered leak in the roof went entirely ignored. These past two weeks only seemed to infuriate him. Fuck, his blood pressure raised so high he had to go see his physician last Tuesday when the pulsing headache hadn’t tempered in over three days. Six times he had made to pick up the telephone—he had Lizzy’s number. Gardner had included it in the packet. Six times he yelled at the phone instead. “Damn you, Lizzy! You should have told me!” “What were you thinking?” “I’ve missed a lifetime!”
He placed the rocks glass on the edge of the balcony and stared out into the Parisian evening sky. The view was spectacular and just like he’d done in 1980, he wished he was here under other circumstances; not for a confrontation but for his enjoyment. They had, long ago, dreamed of traveling together to Paris, Rome, the gondola in Venice under the Bridge of Sighs where he would kiss her at sunset as the bells of St Mark’s Campanile tolled—the promise of eternal love.
He wondered what the next few days would bring and who would contact him first: Jack, Juliana, or the woman herself. She had some explaining to do, and he surmised that was the reason for his trip here.
A knock on his door sounded, and he picked up his drink, piqued at who the hell would be visiting him at this hour. A sudden surge of fear coursed through him thinking it could be Lizzy.
“Coming.”
Will looked through the door’s peephole and his hand went to his heart. He took a step backward and sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Ho … ly … shit.”
A turn of the knob and a swing to the door revealed his brother standing at the threshold, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mr. I Ran Away From Life And Moved To Alaska himself.”
“And if it isn’t Mr. I’m The One Responsible For Causing My Brother To Run Away From Life.”
“Can I come in?”
“They’re playing better than your lame Dodgers who can’t field for shit. ‘Outfield of Dreams’ my ass. Darryl Strawberry should have remained with the Mets.”
Will walked to his wallet resting beside the television and removed a twenty, holding it out to Louie. “I expect change.”
“And I expect you to listen to your older brother. I don’t want your money. I want your forgiveness.”
Will reluctantly pocketed the bill but said nothing after Lou turned away to walk to the bar service cart.
Louie poured himself a scotch then sat in one of the two armchairs. After placing the drink down on the end table, he wiped his brow and reached into his breast pocket. “Do you mind if I smoke?”
“Yes, I mind. It’ll kill ya’. Give you lung cancer.”
“So you do care.”
Will stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed facing Louie. “I care. Just because we’re estranged and no longer thick as thieves doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You’re still my brother.”
“Thanks for the flowers for Lillian and Gordon.”
“You’re welcome. I was sorry to hear of their untimely passing. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“How did you know?”
“Al Gardner. Did you think my Army buddy wouldn’t remain my lawyer after I left town?”
“I suppose I did. I didn’t think you’d need a lawyer, let alone one who had only just passed the bar. Well, you’ve had the advantage then. Al never told us anything of you. Do you mind telling me where you’ve been since 1950?”
“All over the world really, putting my piloting skills to use, flying medical transport. It began in Holland actually, bringing the displaced to Israel, and then I settled in Tel Aviv, married briefly, then divorced, before I finally settled in Alaska. I’m technically retired but I still fly medical and organ transport for charity only.”
“Israel and a marriage, huh? That’s a surprise. You should have written—more than the tri-annual greeting card.”
“I meant to write, even telephone, but the longer I put it off, the harder it became. Before I knew it, decades had slipped by.” Will shrugged uncomfortably, forcing the confrontation to continue.
“Enough of that … you have my ear, Lou. You know what I hold you accountable for. I don’t think I need to state my case again, but I wonder what else you’ve kept secret these forty years.”
Will watched his brother’s gnarled, arthritic hand grip around the glass, then take a long draught. Clearly, this was hard for Louie. Apologies always were.
“I didn’t know that she would be at the christening, but I did know she had married. My wife never explained to me why Lizzy married John, but I have my suspicions that only Lizzy can confirm. That’s not my business. My business today is to heal the wound I inflicted upon you.”
“I’m listening.”
“Look, Will, my wife chose a path of silence concerning all things Renner and that included keeping the confidences of her sisters—even from me. But yes, I did know that Lizzy married John. They both came to the hospital after Lil gave birth to Gordon. You remember … my girl had complications, lost a lot of blood, and was told that she couldn’t have other children. John had dropped Lizzy off at the Methodist Hospital, and then left with their two little ones. It was only then that I found out Lizzy was married—to John no less. I had been summarily shunned from the baby ward. And remember? I hung out with you and Dad, crying on both your shoulders back in Flatbush. Turned out Lizzy put up quite a fight with the nurses and she managed to remain beside Lillian day and night till the immediate crisis was over.”
Will nodded. “That was very Lizzy-like. She was very sensitive and devoted to her sisters. Get her mad—and she was a sight to behold.”
“The three sisters remained close through the years, although Lil hardly saw them. They corresponded and spoke on the phone. As you know, my girl liked her life in Park Slope, and didn’t really want to leave, stating that she had traveled enough during the war. But I knew the truth even if she didn’t want to discuss it—the family was blacklisted, the name defiled, their legacy destroyed. She wanted to keep us far away from anything remotely connected to her father.”
Will could relate to Lillian’s running away and hiding out from the pain and the ugly truths, separating herself even from those she loved. He nodded. “What is it that you suspect about why Lizzy married Robertsen?”
“I suspect she found herself in a position in 1943 where she had only one choice before her and she took it.”
“Annette?”
Louie’s eyes widened, and he promptly replied, “I didn’t say that.”
“Surely you know something more. Unless, of course, you’re determined to keep more secrets from me.”
“I don’t know anything. I only have my own supposition, which could be totally wrong. You seem to have some information of your own.”
“Yes.”
“Look, what I do know is that Lizzy wants to see you. I know that her family is as loving and warm and welcoming as you and I could have hoped for—hoped to be a part of. I know that all of her children are incredible individuals, and one in particular has a son who could be your twin. He’s even a pilot.”
“I have a grandson?”
“I’m not saying that, but if that is the case, then you have three grandsons, all good men.
Standing, Will ran his hand through his hair and walked to the balcony doors.
“I also know that what Pistol has done with her life was for you. She told me that she even started a foundation in your honor. She friggin’ even built a Holocaust museum where she featured my Lillian’s story of courage.”
“I know about the foundation. And about the museum,” Will said, turning his back to his brother. His eyes clouded with tears. G-d this hurt. All of it. He was too damn old to feel this pain after so long a time. He was too damn old to hold this grudge against Louie. Anger at both of them had traveled with him throughout his life and now he had to give it up. Three grandsons? Yes, he wanted peace, and he hoped that Paris was the place to find it. Moreover, he wanted a family with Lizzy and he needed his brother’s well wishes, too.
“Lou, for years we had surmised about Grandfather and Tante’s fate in this city, and I swore that I would never forget. To me, by not raising Gordon in the Jewish faith you betrayed that very notion, dishonoring their memory. I understood that you were married to a Christian, but to never even share your Judaism with Gordon and later Juliana, I felt was reprehensible, particularly after 1980 when I had written you confirming their murders in Auschwitz. Now here you sit confirming to me that the woman I loved did more for the preservation of our heritage than even you, my own blood—their blood. I have learned all she has done. Her commitment astounds me.”
From behind him, he heard the clink of Louie’s glass upon the end table. “War changed you Will but it also changed Lizzy and me. We three all emerged from the ashes—one seeking atonement, the other disbelieving in the presence of G-d, and you more grounded and rooted in faith. Her penitence spanned five decades. Mine only just began when I removed my mezuzah from its hiding place three weeks ago. Now I ask you, after asking G-d, please forgive me for the role I played in keeping secrets from you and for turning my back on our Judaism as an adult as well as not honoring the memory of our mother, Aunt Estella, and Grandfather.”
Will turned to see his brother standing directly behind him. Gone was the cocky, hardboiled Marine with the shit-eating grin and standing in his place was an older, humbled man. So was he.
He sighed. “I forgive you,” holding out his hand to shake, just as they did in Pennsylvania Station all those many years ago, Louie once again tugging on the extended arm to pull his brother into him. Embracing in a strong bear h
ug, both had unexpected, yet welcome, tears running down their faces.
“I love you, Vaporhead,” Louie said.
“Soppy Jarhead,” Will replied stepping back from their embrace. “I love you, too.”
They laughed and Will tentatively asked, “How are you feeling? Juliana tells me that you had some difficulty … memories and things.”
“My little jewel is a worry wart. I’m fine. Lately I feel like a young bull again.”
“Because of the new woman in your life? I understand that you two were discovered in a compromising position one morning.”
“I told you once before, I do not kiss and tell, but apparently my granddaughter isn’t above telling my secrets. Well, if you insist on knowing—Louise has a pair of knockers on her that put Raquel Welch to shame. Va-va-voom!”
“You’re such a wolf.”
“Yes I am, Brother, but once before a good woman put an end to my doll dizzy ways, and so has Louise. I care for her, and we’re moving in together in the fall.”
“At that old age home you’re living in?”
“No, too many old flames living there. We’re going to move up to Gordon’s place on the Upper East Side. Juliana doesn’t want it, so I told her that I’d trade her my remaining shares in DeVries Diamond for the condo. She likes Brooklyn and wants to stay there. I always knew she was a Brooklyn girl at heart.”
“She is a jewel, Lou. You’re a lucky man to have such a granddaughter. She’s smart, too, but if I can only convince her to ditch the Yankees and start rooting for the Dodgers then I’ll consider her brilliant.”
“That will never happen! I was thinking of encouraging her to move down to Park Slope, out of Primrose Cottage now that you’re coming home.”
“I didn’t say I was coming home.”
Louie walked to the door, his trademark smile back in place. “We’ll see what Lizzy has to say about that. She’s single, you know.”
“I know.”
“Do you also know that Pistol’s a diehard Giants fan?”