by Cat Gardiner
“How was it then? I’m all ears. I’m not so old that my memory is shot.”
“Hmm. Well you don’t have the facts.”
“Gee, there’s a fuckin’ surprise.”
Lizzy stamped her foot and petulantly placed a hand on her hip. “Stop it, William!”
He swept his hand in invitation for her to continue. “Then enlighten me, Mrs. Robertsen.”
“I don’t know where to start.” She began to pace again, twisting her fingers together. “After Christmas of ’42, I never received a single one of your letters … until two weeks ago when my sister Kitty gave them to me … and you never received any of mine because she kept those as well.”
“Kitty?”
“Yes, my sister. The one who had polio. Don’t you remember? Kitty was in the wheelchair?”
“Of course I remember. I remember everything.”
Lizzy stopped and turned to face him, impertinently accusing, “Apparently you don’t because you forgot the part where I said, ‘Until the end of life’s story,’ didn’t you?”
“In case you forgot … you married someone else.”
She couldn’t argue with that, but ignored it. “I only just listened to the Letter on a Record that you sent me from England. I didn’t know. I never knew that you had proposed to me. I was never given the record. Had I known then, it would have changed everything! Kitty took all of our letters and even those to and from your mother and Louie.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that if you had received my letters then you would have learned—”
Will abruptly stood, jolting her, and cutting off her sentence. He stormed to the balcony doors, running his hand through his hair, digesting her statement with his stunned silence. With that one explanation, everything he had come to assume had summarily been shot down. With startling awareness, he realized that his anger all these long, long years had been misdirected. This cannot be.
Finally, he took three forceful strides to her and suddenly grabbed her shoulders. “Say that again.”
“It was Kitty. She took our letters. I’ve only just read them, Will. I have never cried so much, with so much regret, in my life.”
“Why did she do that? Why did she deliberately separate us!”
“It’s complicated.”
Will shook her. “What’s complicated? Tell me!”
“Stop it, Will. Give me a minute. This is difficult.”
“You owe me answers, Lizzy!”
She couldn’t help the sudden burst of tears that began. “She wanted me to marry John. She believed that if I thought you dead I would marry him … and I did. It was a marriage of convenience but also of necessity for several reasons.”
Will dropped his hold upon her and bowed his head with a deep expulsion of air, the smell of brandy nearly toppling her. “Because you were pregnant.”
Lizzy’s eyes widened as she took a step back, her hand flying to her heart in utter shock.
“You … you knew?” she gasped.
All this time, her conscience had been tormented over keeping Annette a secret from him and here he says that he has known and stayed away. Stunned, her mouth gaped. “How? For how long?”
He stepped back from her further, his face darkening, his lip sneering. “That’s irrelevant.”
“It’s not irrelevant, Will! How long have you known?”
“Not long enough! Jesus, Lizzy, I had a child! I’m a father! I’m a grandfather! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did tell you in the letters and then I meant to following the christening … but I couldn’t … I chickened out … I was married.”
“Oh and of course, John couldn’t wait to get into your bed and assume my rightful role as father, lover, and husband! He wasn’t about to let me steal you both from him—like he had done to me!”
In fury, Lizzy stepped back, recoiling from him. “How dare you! You will never disparage John. He saved your child!” She took another step back. “You’re not the man I knew. The man I knew would be grateful that someone such as John Robertsen raised your little girl with love and tenderness, cared for her in your honor, following your assumed death as if she were his own. Cared for me! He gave us refuge and security when the world around us collapsed! He was there to pick up the pieces following my almost nervous breakdown—I thought you were dead, and I discovered who my father really was. He was there to wipe Annette’s nose and sit up with her when she had the croup, holding her for hours in the steaming bathroom when I couldn’t do anything for her! He was there!”
“I never had the chance to be!” Will shouted.
“And that was not my fault!”
“You loved him! Didn’t you?”
“Yes, I loved John! He was my husband for forty years!”
Will’s pitiful drunkenness and her rage in defense of that man plummeted down into his long-wounded, young heart. He lowered his voice. “But you were supposed to love only me.”
Lizzy seethed but sighed; her heart was moved to pity, but not clemency—not with him being this drunk. Her voice softened, the tears now rolling freely down her cheeks as her voice trembled. “Oh, Will. I loved you differently. I loved you from my soul, in my blood, and with every breath I took. I lived my life as nobly as you expected me to and I did it all for you. I loved you through every action in my life.”
Lizzy walked to the door that connected to the next room and removed her hotel key from her purse. She turned back to him. “For forty-three years I have regretted and fought with my guilt from not telling you about your daughter, but we will only continue this conversation when you’re sober. And then you can apologize for your unkindness to John. I hope that you’ll show me that you are still the man I always dreamed you were, not this stranger standing before me. I had hoped there was some Ducky left in you, but perhaps that was the foolish romantic in me. I have hoped and prayed that you would be able to understand and forgive.”
A turn of the key opened the connecting door to her suite beside his, and she disappeared, pulling it tightly closed from the other side, but optimistically leaving it unlocked.
He fought the urge to go after her.
~~*~~
Forty-One
Long Ago and Far Away
July 15, 1992
In the course of his life, Will had probably experienced worse nights, but not by a wide margin. Through the sleepless night, he had lain in the dark, staring at the ceiling, finding himself reaching upward several times, just to touch the adjoining wall that separated him from Lizzy. He was sure, as hotels went, her headboard was mirroring his on the other side, and he wondered if she was too angered not to do the same as he—lifting her delicate hand to press against the intervening wall during the night. Perhaps their palms had met.
He wondered how their argument had grown so out of control so fast and how did it end up that he was the one on the receiving end of her sharp tongue and raised voice. Where was his wrong doing? He had considered himself blameless … up until the point where he insulted John … the man who had raised his child as he knew he, himself, would have, with love.
Now, with the sun rising, Will watched from the balcony as the worn-with-age cobblestones of the Pletzl came to life awakening the surrounding community. It was a radiant morning, and he felt strangely liberated having gotten the anger off his chest that he had carried for so long. It hadn’t been his intention to wound her, just tell her the damage she’d done, but the drink got the better of him, as evidenced by his splitting headache and the regrettable fact that she was on the opposite side of the wall, not in his room—not in his bed—not in his arms.
He’d have to examine the intense surge of hatred he was feeling toward Lizzy’s sister, then further, acknowledge and accept that whatever was done was done. Unforgiveness was nasty business. He knew acutely how it could eat up a person, but today was not the day to address the woman who had betrayed them.
Making this right between Lizzy and himsel
f was his sole mission for today. Hell, it would be his mission for the rest of his life. Wherever Louie was taking him this afternoon would have to wait. The love he had in his heart for Lizzy demanded that he hear her entire story until he’d heard it all and not condemn her for keeping Annette a secret from him. They couldn’t go back in time, only forward. Jack, Juliana, and Louie were absolutely correct in that respect.
He sighed, thinking of Juliana and the thanks he owed her. She did what he never could find the guts to do. It had taken fifty years of pondering to finally decide to telephone, but his great-niece bravely acted on every clue she’d found in Primrose Cottage to track him and Lizzy down—to bring them together—in just a matter of weeks.
Will looked across the street below at an elderly shopkeeper opening his place of business. The man couldn’t be more than a few years older than he was. Funny, he didn’t consider himself elderly. The woman next door made him feel twenty-one again. Blue jeans and bare feet, navy t-shirt and a hip hairstyle were only the visual attestations to his youthfulness. Damn his heart raced like it had another forty years left in it—because of her. Baby aspirin, my ass.
A knock on his door alerted him that the moment had arrived. This morning would be the start of everything new and wonderful. Paris was the perfect place to begin. Lizzy said she still loved him and was correct in her assumption that he still loved her. They were both too old to agonize over what could have been. Now was their opportunity and by G-d he was going to grab it lest it slip away like the last time.
He opened the door to greet the same porter who had been in the elevator the night before only this time the cart was laden with fresh fare and hot coffee. The sweet scent of flowers wafted together with the welcome aroma of French breakfast cuisine.
“Bonjour, Monsieur,” he greeted, wheeling the cart to the center of the room.
“Yes it is.” Will signed the room service bill and gave him an easy smile along with a generous tip. The door closed, and he looked over the ordered assortment after lifting the silver lid to reveal its contents below. His eyes then traveled to his and Lizzy’s adjoining door, and he lowered the dish cover then pushed the cart toward his future.
A deep breath accompanied briefly closed eyes and the little shake of trepidation to his hand when he opened the unlocked door into her dimly lit room, just barely breached by the early morning light slipping through the balcony curtains. He left the cart in his room and stepped into hers, his heart hammering.
Will nearly chuckled hearing her deep rhythmic breath, bordering on snoring. Even that sounded melodious, so much like her laughter.
The subtle trespass of daybreak traced her cheek as she lay on her side facing him. Still stunning, still as glorious as the sun, she seemed to have defied the decades—her timeless beauty had never faded.
He paced the perimeter of the oversized bedstead, then back, until he gave into his long repressed, audacious compulsion as though he was returned to that precious period of 1942 and she was first his.
Before he knew what he was about, he sat down beside her. She barely stirred from his weight upon the mattress. Initially his hand was hesitant as it hovered over her cheek, only to be retracted, but eventually he gave into the impulse.
His palm tenderly caressed from temple to chin, tracing the delicate angles of her face. Lizzy’s skin was soft and warm, exactly as he remembered. Once imprinted upon his soul its reality felt as though he’d come home.
His mind whirled at taking these liberties, but he knew Lizzy, he knew she would have no objections to his affections, even after their harsh words to one another—even after five decades.
His thumb ran lightly along her slightly open lips, reveling in their plumpness and his recollection of their twisting impishness. Will briefly closed his eyes at the sublime feeling of their malleable softness beneath his gentle stroke. Awaken, sleeping beauty.
Adorned by only a narrow satin lingerie strap, her bared shoulder enticed him, his hand hesitating only seconds before boldly cupping her delicate bone structure, then sliding down her arm. Awaken, my love.
So lost in his emotional exploration of this woman he had loved, lost, and would die loving again, he missed noticing the smile emerging upon her lips as he continued to feel and examine her fingers splayed upon the flat plane of her tummy.
Reaching Lizzy’s hand, Will thread their fingers together. His gaze traveled to that serene, angelic face of hers, supposedly slumbering in peace.
Their eyes locked. Her tender smile and the brilliance of her green orbs held him transfixed, euphoric as though anything was possible.
He smiled back, his heart filled with peace.
Dreamily Lizzy asked, “Ducky, is that you?”
He chuckled. “Yes. It’s me.”
“It’s about damn time.”
“Of course I’d come to you and, yes, I’m entirely sober now.” He brushed the hair from her forehead. “I brought us breakfast.”
“Hmm.” She turned and languidly stretched, breaking their entwined hands. Suddenly, she pulled the covers up over her face with a hasty thrust. “Out! Get out! You can’t see me like this.”
He laughed and tried to pull the covers down, but her grip upon the warm linen was unrelenting. “What are you talking about, Lizzy? Put down the sheet.”
“No! Come back in five minutes!”
“I’ve seen you in the morning before. Stop this.”
“I said get out!”
Will rose from the bed, laughing until he looked at his watch and finally said, “Five minutes, starting now,” and departed the room with a deep chortle.
Lizzy flew from the bed, her satin negligee twisting between her legs in her haste. She made a beeline for the bathroom and stared into the mirror at the unsightly reflection. “Oh G-d! He saw you like this!” Her recently highlighted hair was wildly disheveled and her green eyes were reddened and puffy, having cried herself to sleep the night before. Quickly, she turned on the cold faucet and washed her face, brushed her teeth, and tore a stiff bristled brush through her hair. It seemed as though she had four hands, they worked so fast.
Nearly running to the balcony, as she shoved her arms into her satin robe, she pulled open the curtains then literally dove onto the bed. After grabbing the peachy colored lipstick off her nightstand, she applied it with one hand as the other straightened the sheets around her.
He knocked. “Are you ready?”
With a last second sweep of her arm across the nightstand, Lizzy pushed all the creams, book, keepsakes, and cookies into the open drawer, quickly shutting it before speaking as nonchalantly as she could muster, “Come in.”
Will opened the door and pushed the breakfast cart through with a sheepish smile. “Room service.”
She giggled. “There had better be coffee on that cart.”
“Would I deny you your coffee, Pistol, especially since I’m already skating on thin ice?”
He stopped his progression beside the bed and stood looking down at the image she presented—one of perfect, alluring femininity. Speechless he smiled, heart swelling with emotion. Draped in champagne-colored satin, her golden-infused brown locks complemented the fabric color and hung against that sensuous curve of her neck that he adored. Her eyes sparkled and her flushed skin glowed.
Feeling exposed and insecure, she was embarrassed by his smoldering stare and smoothed her hand across her cheek, “I know … I’m not the beauty I was at twenty.”
Will sat close to her on the bed. Directly facing her, he extended one long finger, smoothing it down her cheek. “No, you’re not. You’re even more breathtaking.”
Lizzy’s eyes filled with tears and her lip trembled.
She whispered, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
“I do.”
He leaned toward her, his hand threading into her thick locks but he faltered, unsure of his presumption until she nodded. He felt her hand reach out to rest upon his waist, her first intimate touch. Guiding her head to him,
his heart skipped a beat.
Yearning mouths captured one another in a fragile kiss of forgiveness and re-acquaintance, as sweet and innocent as their first, so very long ago, on the carousel. The familiar softness was as natural and perfect as remembered, as beautiful and transcendent as their enduring love. Romantic excitement surged as though a new love was born, yet both knew this truly was the long awaited return to a love that still burned brightly. Heavenly.
Their mouths separated and she nearly cried, “Oh G-d. I’ve waited so long to do that.”
With foreheads pressed together, their breath commingled. “Me, too. I dream about you so often. I never stopped loving you. I tried, but I couldn’t.”
“That’s because you knew that I’d always be yours.”
She kissed him again, as the joyful tears she’d been holding back streamed down her cheeks. Her lips clung to his in a searing collision, their embrace consuming and reassuring that they had finally found one another and weren’t about to let go—ever.
Will dropped lingering kisses down her damp cheek, erasing her salty droplets, to finally bury himself at her neck. She heard his murmur from upon her shoulder. “Please don’t leave me again,” as he deposited another searing kiss to her throbbing pulse, sending tingles down her arm.
“Never. I’ll never leave you. You have my solemn vow. We have a whole life ahead of us.”
He lifted his head, gazing into her eyes. “Lizzy … I love you.”
“I love you, Will.”
For several exquisite minutes, they held one another in silence until she broke their intensity with a giggle. “I really could use a cup of coffee.”
Will’s mouth took a last quick suckle before he rose to stand beside the cart. “I brought you something special with breakfast.” He lifted the lid to reveal two crepes, and resting upon them were two gardenias.
Delighted she said, “You remembered.”
“I told you last night, Lizzy. I remember everything about you. I even remember how your hair smelled when I secured that very first gardenia for you.” He handed her the flower and brushed a cheek with his index finger when she inhaled the sweet scent of the delicate bloom. “Will you wear it for me? Maybe at dinner tonight?”