by Cat Gardiner
“At the time, it was difficult to be considered a cripple, but it was Lizzy who offered hope and encouragement to reach beyond the confines of a wheelchair. Buoyed by her sister’s optimism and her own innate perseverance, Kitty learned to function and adapt to the expectation that she would never walk again, remaining determined to prove everyone wrong about her uselessness. She insisted on doing everything herself—and still does now that post-polio syndrome has caught up with her.” Again, her eyes filled with tears. A smile gradually graced her lips.
“Unexpected events changed the young woman’s life, and it was Lizzy who emphatically took the reins of her care—of her protection, sheltering her from the fallout of those events in more ways than most would understand.” Kitty took another dramatic pause, a deep breath, rubbing her thigh in reflection before she continued, her smile broadening.
“In the spring of 1943, my sister Lizzy removed me from Meercrest and traveled with me to Minneapolis aboard the 20th Century Limited train. When we arrived, she placed me in the care of an Australian nurse, Sister Elizabeth Kenny, at her new polio institute. It was there, with Sister Kenny’s unconventional treatment of physical therapy, that I rehabilitated, removed my braces, re-educated my legs and learned to walk. I returned home to Long Island, a whole, happily married woman with a baby in 1952. I learned to play the organ, volunteered, and traveled. Because of Lizzy, I have lived a life I never dreamed I would. I am married to my sweetheart James for forty-four years and have two sons, a daughter, and two grandchildren. She saved me. I owe my sister my life.”
Juliana expelled the long breath held during Kitty’s explanation. I knew it!
“You’re Kitty… book campaign Kitty? Wow.” She squeezed the elderly woman’s hand.
Kitty laughed, wiping away a remnant tear then tapping her faintly lined forehead in the sudden recollection. “Good Lord, I had forgotten all about that wartime drive! Oh, that was so much fun. Lizzy and I squirreled away so many of those books from the big estates. Even with his ten thousand-volume library, Father’s collection had nothing even remotely similar to some of those mansions’ books. I’m almost embarrassed to tell you how the two of us learned all about the varied ‘ins and outs’ of sex—from a copy of the Kama Sutra donated from the Frick’s library!”
“You stole the books you collected and from the Fricks no less?”
“No, we borrowed them, devoured them without bending the spines, and then donated them. Lizzy is still a voracious reader, ever insistent on being informed about everything going on in the world and everyone’s opinion about it.”
“I can’t believe this! You’re Kitty! I have so many questions, a list, actually.” She opened up her steno pad, prepared to ask them one by one in journalistic fashion. With photographs at the ready and the scrap of the mysterious letter found in the fireplace, she asked the first, “So, you’re still close to Lizzy?”
Unwilling yet to answer the questions she was sure to come, Kitty felt undeterred in addressing something Juliana needed to know. Her full smile now beamed. “I am very close to Lizzy, and although we didn’t see much of the sister separating us in age, we were close with her as well. That sister was, actually, called an Irish twin to Lizzy—only ten months apart in age. She passed on a couple of years ago, but her legacy lives on in the lives she touched.”
She took a long sip from her coffee cup, watching the thin, young woman over the rim of the brown ceramic mug that read ‘Faith’ in white letters. Juliana had Lillian’s pert nose and demonstrated a familiar expression her sister employed when curious. The young woman looked around the room, eyes finally settling on a replica of Rembrandt’s The Storm on the Sea of Galilee.
“Juliana, before I tell you about the remaining sister, tell me about yourself and your family.”
Juliana shrugged a shoulder, subconsciously toying with her grandfather’s Marine Corps insignia pinned upon the right pocket of her blazer. “There’s not much to tell, really. I grew up on the Upper East Side, my parents divorced in 1981 when my mother—who just recently informed me that I was considered by her to be a mistake—decided that playing housewife for a man she didn’t love was burdensome. When he died three months ago, my world sort of crashed. He and I were extremely close. Apart from said bitchy mother who abandoned me, my grandfather Louie is my only living family. He’s a trip and I spend every Wednesday and Sunday with him. Let’s see … I’m a junior fashion writer for Allure magazine, single and probably so because … well, I have commitment issues. Maybe someday some guy will ride in and sweep me off my feet. That’s it really, apart from getting the job at Allure, the bequest of my uncle’s house and estate has been the most exciting thing to happen to me.”
“Oh dear, I’m sorry for your loss. Your father must have been a young man.”
“He was 44. Sudden heart attack. My grandfather didn’t take it well. Following my grandmother’s death two years ago, he’s been silent. The Resident Liaison at his senior community explained that he’s going through Post Traumatic Stress Disorder brought on by Mimi’s death and his wartime experience in the Pacific is coming back. Dad’s death contributed to it, I’m sure, but he does seem to be involved in his retirement community considering he has quite a harem that come and go with casserole dishes. I think that keeps him young at heart even if his heart and mind are aching.”
“I’m truly sorry to hear about your grandfather’s trauma.” She paused before taking a deep breath. Her gaze held Juliana’s for long seconds. “Juliana, do you believe in fate?”
“I never gave it much thought. Why?”
“Well, I believe that you were led here. Name it what you will, but I believe there are no coincidences in life, only G-d-incidences—or perhaps the angels, one in particular guiding us. I knew your grandfather, Louie, you know.”
“You did? How? Oh! Yes, that’s right, he dated one of your sisters during the war. I read that in some of Lizzy’s letters to William.” Hmm … I forgot about that …
Kitty smiled in agreement, nodding her head. “Yes, he did date one of my sisters. He dated Lillian … then he married her in 1947, and they had a son named Gordon, and a granddaughter … named Juliana.”
She paused, waiting for what she had said to register.
When Juliana’s smile grew along with her eyes, her growing suspicion was finally confirmed when Kitty said, “You, Juliana Martel, are my grandniece, dear. And Lizzy’s, too.”
~~*~~
Seventeen
Arm in Arm
June 1992
“Can you repeat that?” Juliana’s mouth agape. “Did you just say that your sister, Lillian was my Mimi and that you and Lizzy are my great-aunts?”
Kitty leaned forward, taking hold of Juliana’s delicate hands. “I did. So you see, your grandfather is not your only living relative. You have aunts, uncles, and cousins and some wonderful legacies established by my sisters to pass on to the next generation.”
Not normally prone to tears, Juliana couldn’t stop the unexpected trickle rolling down her cheeks, dropping from her chin onto their clasped hands. “Family?”
“Oh, baby, don’t cry.”
The two women hugged across the small space between them; Kitty’s heart broke as she felt the palpable protrusion of bones forming her niece’s back. Grandmotherly instinct kicked in, desiring to feed and fatten this precious young waif of a woman with home cooked meals, surrounded by her long denied family.
Juliana sniffled, “That’s why you look familiar. You remind me of my grandmother.”
“If only I could attain a smidgen of her goodness and humility, but I’m trying. I venture to guess, since you didn’t know about the Renners then you don’t know anything of your grandmother’s history?”
“No, she never talked about her past. She always said she wasn’t a past person; she was a present person and my grandfather consistently echoed her sentiment. Mimi loved to tell stories about the two of them completely captivating me, so animated when she did, but she never talke
d about her life before marrying Grandpa.”
“Ah, well that’s a story that, I believe, requires a trip.”
“Huh?”
With strong hands placed on Juliana’s slight shoulders, Kitty settled her back into the deep seat and removed a handkerchief from her jacket pocket. Then leaning forward to close the distance between them, she tenderly wiped her niece’s tears. “Would you care to take a ride with me? I have something very special to show you.”
“Of course. Will you be taking me to see Aunt Lizzy?”
“Not just yet. I’ll need some time to talk to my sister before you meet with her. She won’t be prepared for your questions and for reasons that are not mine to divulge, she needs time to process your curiosity regarding her relationship with Ducky. It’s been many years since she has spoken of him, and I’m not sure how she will react or respond.”
“You call him Ducky?”
“Oh, yes. It all began with a small comment about his being a ducky shincracker—a good dancer. Some nights during the summer of ’42, Lizzy and I would hide away for hours in the water tower, and he was all she would talk about. Ducky this … Ducky that. He changed her life, inspiring her to be more than a spoiled Gold Coast debutante. She truly grew up that summer and everything she is today is because he gave her motivation and confidence. Your great-uncle was an incredible man, a man who inspired greatness in others.”
“Can I ask you something?”
Kitty nodded with a thoughtful smile.
“Was it just a summer wartime romance?”
“Oh no, my dear. It was so much more. What they shared was deep, respectful, abiding love.”
“I thought so, but did she marry someone else?”
“She did, but she never stopped loving William. To this day, everything she has done in her life has been in honor of him and his family—your family.”
“But her husband?”
“He’s deceased now, but he always knew how she carried another man’s sonnet in her heart.”
“Then why?”
Kitty brushed Juliana’s golden locks from her face. “I can’t tell you that, but if she wants to—she will. All I can tell you is that it was the hardest decision she ever made, but it was a different world then. It was on fire and with a father who believed in a terrible ideology with unspeakable opinions and horrific actions, and in a society such as ours, Lizzy had no choice. She thought William was dead.”
~~*~~
Jack’s Alpha Romeo passed through another grand entry he also knew well. Once known as Welwyn, the former Henry Pratt Estate was now the newly dedicated Long Island Holocaust Museum situated within the extensive Welwyn Preserve County Park. His eyes scanned across the green, perfectly manicured lawn and came to rest upon the 1906 brick mansion. Stately, yet welcoming, the structure screened extensive gardens designed for reflection and peaceful remembrance. It was one of the finest museums in the county, offering both permanent and traveling exhibits as well as boasting education programs. He could see many visitors headed toward the front door. That did his heart good.
He hoped to have a long, reflective walk along one of the many trails leading to the dock on the Sound. Spending the night at his family home, Evermore in Mill Neck, only made him feel worse about his meeting with Juliana. His usual jovial personality had become somewhat taciturn after they had parted, so he chose to withdraw into his comfort zone, spending the previous night in his former suite, secluded at the far end of his childhood home.
Today was Saturday, and he knew his paternal aunt would be here in the garden. Meeting with Juliana, delightful and intoxicating as she was, left him unsettled for a myriad of reasons. Although enamored by her vivacious inquisitiveness, when directed toward the Robertsen and Renner families she had put him at a loss on how to proceed. Before speaking to the woman she referred to so affectionately, almost intimately, as Lizzy, he thought it best to seek a second opinion.
He parked his car at the far end of the public lot and took one of the paths below the towering pergola, passing alongside the Children’s Memorial Garden. Its design was lovingly created in remembrance of the 1.5 million children who perished in the Shoah as well as the other children who died in the war. On this day, children of all ages sat on the concrete edge of what was once Mrs. Pratt’s reflecting pool; now empty, the round pool was seen as a symbolic reminder of life, as well as a practical location for lectures. Today one of the museum’s volunteers stood in the center of the former water feature, sharing the history of the museum and its inspiration to attentive listeners. This garden had special significance for the Robertsen family who were major contributors to its recent campaign.
Following the stone pavers, Jack made his way through to the flower gardens where butterflies floated above the many blossomed plants specifically chosen by his grandmother to symbolize the child victims of the Holocaust.
Even wearing gardening clothes and cloaked beneath a large-brimmed hat, his aunt’s refinement and loveliness was evident. With gloved hands happily brandishing her pruning shears, she waved as he approached. “Jackie! What a surprise. What are you doing here?”
He kissed her dimpled cheek. “Well that’s a fine hello, Aunt Annette.”
“Oh, darling, you know I’m always happy to see you. It’s just that you don’t come to the center often and well, it being a Saturday, I expect you would want to be out on the Sound rather than seeking out your aunt.” She shielded her eyes, looking up to the cloudless sky. “It’s a beautiful day and with a lovely breeze to boot.”
He resisted his innate urge to beat around the bush. “Tempting as it is, I needed to talk with you about something.”
“Well, now you have my attention. This sounds serious. The last time you sought me out for advice, rather than my brother, was when you wanted to resign from the Board after the opening of the center.”
She placed the rose cutters into the pouch at her waist, removed her hat letting it hang from its cord at her nape, and shook out her chestnut curls. “Shall we walk?”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his well-worn jeans. “Yeah, maybe we can sit on one of the benches further down along the brick path.”
Annette tucked her arm into his and squeezed him close. “Ooo, it’s so good to see you, Jackie! I miss you when you travel, and I know your cousins miss you, too. You really need to come for dinner before the divorce is settled and I have to vacate the house. I’ll invite the boys.”
“I will. I promise. I miss you all as well. Grandmother has been stealing most of my available time planning this upcoming trip of hers. I’ve never seen her so determined before. I’m sure she’s ready to blow a gasket at the French Culture Minister.”
“Ah, well, you know my mother. She’ll never let grass grow under her feet when she can be accomplishing something good or getting into mischief. This painting acquisition by the foundation is too important to her. I don’t know why but it is. Now, tell me. What is troubling that handsome face and happy heart of yours?”
“I met a girl.”
She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to her nephew. “You met a girl? This is great news! Stop the presses news! How serious is it?”
He replaced her arm in the crook of his, continuing to walk. “It’s not like that. I mean … I’d like it to be, but that’s another issue. This girl is a friend of a friend who needed some help researching a family member of hers—a great-uncle who left his house to her. My friend thought my working for Newsday could open up avenues, you know, archives and contacts. So, I blindly offered to help.”
“That’s very nice of you and let me guess—you met her and it was love at first sight.”
“Juliana definitely got my attention. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m attracted to her and want to get to know her better. She’s nice-looking and intelligent, sincere and honest. At times, she has this dynamic spark about her that reminds me of you in some ways. Other times, she’s reserved and thoughtful.”
&nb
sp; “So, in other words, she’s brilliant!”
He chuckled at the twinkling brown sparkle in her eyes and the effervescence of her voice. “Yes, a bit younger than I usually go for. My mother would have something to say because she’s not Jewish, but neither obstacle is the issue at hand.”
Aunt and nephew sat upon a stone bench, facing a small pond surrounded by the wafting scent of lilacs in full bloom. A family of ducks etched spiraling patterns on the water’s surface and apart from the occasional Blue Jay call, it was perfectly serene until he quietly, but clearly pronounced, “She’s investigating the former Lizzy Renner.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Oh dear is right. Further, she’s a journalist, and in the coincidence of all coincidences—to prove what a small world it really is—she claims to be Lillian Renner’s granddaughter. We now have the perfect storm whipping up our calm sea.”
“Lillian had a granddaughter? Are you sure? This is unexpected to say the least.”
Stunned, Annette paused in thought, rubbing her neck. “I suppose I shouldn’t be too shocked. According to your grandmother, Lillian completely disavowed her Renner lineage. Of course, now we celebrate her as a Renner for her actions. Wow … all these years and someone shows up asking questions, and she’s Lillian’s granddaughter no less.”
“That’s what I thought, too. I wasn’t sure at first when she gave her name. It sounded familiar, but we only, always, refer to Lillian as a Renner around here since her acts of righteousness were as a Renner. Then I saw a photograph of Lillian and her husband, and I recognized her from the exhibit—the surname clicked.”
“Does this girl have siblings? Are there any other members of her family that we don’t know of?”
“No, it’s just her, and I get the feeling she’s starved for a family. We can take solace that Juliana knows absolutely nothing about her grandmother’s Renner family, but she’s determined to find out about them—if she hasn’t already. I tried to put her off as best as I could, offering to help her find her uncle if he was still alive, but she was as persistent as grandmother when it comes to getting to the bottom of things. I’m afraid this is one can of worms Juliana will regret opening.”
