by Cat Gardiner
Place: Meercrest Estate, Glen Cove Long Island
Spouse: John Alfred Robertsen
Married: February 16, 1943
Place: The Little Wedding Chapel, Elkton, Maryland
Died: January 26, 1982
Will’s eyes fixed on the wedding date and he grit his teeth. The muscles in his jaw clenched and moved from his rising anger at the insult of her having waiting only six weeks after his departure for Europe. The pressure upon his jaw caused his temple to throb and pulse.
Child: Annette Estelle Robertsen
Birth: July 21, 1943
Place: Lebanon Hospital, Bronx, New York
Child: Henri Robertsen
Birth: 1942, (Certificate of Adoption December 22, 1947)
Place: Haueman, Alsace, France
Child: Daniel Robertsen
Birth: November 12, 1948
Place: Nassau Hospital, Mineola, New York
The page beneath the family tree was a newspaper article featuring a photograph taken on December 19, 1942 at the Glen Cove Society’s Holiday Ball at Meercrest. Although dressed beautifully, Lizzy looked wan and unhappy standing beside her sister Gloria. Gone was her normal effervescence that usually leapt from every snapshot he had ever seen or taken. It was so unlike her, especially since he knew she had loved the holidays. On the far side of the photographed group, John stood beside Ingrid with his arm circling her waist. The caption below read, “Glen Cove’s darlings, sweethearts since childhood, John Robertsen and Ingrid Renner are expected to announce their engagement any day. Aviation and railroad, a natural merger.”
Confused by the caption, he furrowed his brow. If Robertsen was engaged to Lizzy’s elder sister, what happened? Why had Lizzy married him instead? He continued to scan through the pages, finding a facsimile of a legal document creating the non-profit charitable organization The Phoenix Foundation in 1975. A three-page list stapled behind it tallied every project, including The Long Island Holocaust Museum in Glen Cove. The Phoenix’s newest project, slated for groundbreaking in six months, was the Liberty Senior Residence, 6 Rosebud Lane, Glen Cove. He had written that address hundreds of times—Meercrest. The heads of the foundation were Elizabeth Robertsen and Katherine Landry.
Another page turn brought an even more agonizing image to his eyes. The happy new Robertsen family stood beside one of Robertsen Aviation’s P-47 fighter planes as John christened it with a bottle of champagne. Lizzy held their baby daughter in their arms and the caption read: “July 21, 1944 Mr. and Mrs. John Robertsen, Vice President of Robertsen Aviation, christen a P-47 Thunderbolt named in honor of their daughter’s first birthday: “Daddy’s Baby Girl.”
Like a rushing wave of clarity, the jealousy Will held onto these five decades cleared in a startling awareness at the words “first birthday” and “daddy’s baby girl.” A snippet of conversation with Lizzy from long ago came rushing back:
-You better be careful, I might not give your heart back once you give it to me, he had said.
-Too late, daddy. It’s yours. Like the song—I’m all yours. After all, I am painted on the side of your Marauder. It’s the highest compliment when a skipper names his ship after his girl. It means true love. Forever love that will endure the high seas and rough waters side by side, even when distance separates us—me and you.
John wasn’t that kind of skipper, not a pilot. He was a fisherman and would name a boat—not a plane. Was “daddy” meant to imply …?
His heart hammered as he quickly flipped back to page three again. Robertsen and Lizzy married in February of 1943. Their first child was born at the end of July. Prematurely? Annette—named after his mother Anna? Estelle—my aunt? He ticked on his fingers, counting backward nine months. July 1943 … October 1942. Lebanon Hospital was located in a Jewish community in the Bronx, far from Glen Cove. Elkton, Maryland, at that time, was the elopement capital of America. Could it be? Was she … Is that why Lizzy married Robertsen?
He rapidly blinked; a sudden cold sweat broke upon his brow. Was Annette his? Was he “the daddy”?
Will lowered the papers and leaned back against the sofa, closing his eyes as his mind whirled. He felt it in his bones, that adorable little girl with chestnut ringlet curls was their child. Lizzy must have been pregnant and John protected her reputation and baby by marrying her in his absence. He was stunned. I have a daughter.
… and Lizzy never told me. My G-d.
He ran his hand over his face, stilling his trembling fingers over his mouth in utter shock, emotions vacillating between joy, anger, pain, and panic. These were the same emotions he experienced the minute the church doors opened in ’49 and Lizzy walked through them with the sun backlighting her beauty like an ethereal vision.
He looked at the photograph of the baby in Lizzy’s arms, his heart wrenching. “We have a daughter?”
Abruptly standing, he began to pace the length of the room, once large now seemingly so much smaller and suffocating. His hand shook almost as anxiously as his head with each thought of Lizzy’s deceit and his disbelief. Aggrieved, he suddenly stopped, rubbing his pounding temples and trying to make sense of his speculations. “Maybe you’re wrong, just jumping to conclusions. Maybe their daughter was premature.”
Suddenly Paris didn’t feel as though a passing thought or a place to fear. Just like his trip to the Pletzl in 1980, it was a place for answers and some sort of restoration, replacing death with life. He could have a daughter … grandchildren, a life surrounded by family. His rancor was allayed by that fact alone.
He resumed his march across the floor as he speculated—and hoped—that his gut feeling was accurate. He thought how with less than two weeks away, it would give him just the right amount of time to think about exactly what he would say to Lizzy when he demanded explanations for everything. After all these years, he wanted to find peace: Why did she stop writing? Why did she marry Robertsen? Was it because she was pregnant? If Annette was their child then why did Lizzy never tell him? He ran his hand through his hair. “My G-d, all these years. I have a daughter.”
~~*~~
Thirty-Nine
East of the Sun
July 4, 1992
Juliana stood windblown in the bright midday sun, grinning from ear to ear beside Jack at the helm of his sailboat, the Liberty. Her cheeks bore the same healthy tan as her exposed body between and beyond the white short shorts and a red bikini top. Her blood had surged with excitement just as when, three days before, she’d flown in her great-uncle’s floatplane in Alaska. In a million years, she never expected to actually enjoy sailing, but her entire life had changed this month—thanks to one house, two men, and a stack of old love letters. In fact, she’d had such a good time this morning, her nervousness at imminently meeting Lizzy and her entire new family at Evermore had completely subsided. It seemed significant to be out on the Liberty, feeling untamed and free on the Fourth of July. She knew her father was looking down upon her proudly.
“Did you have a good time?” Jack asked as the sailboat slowed to a crawl, coming about toward Evermore’s dock on Mill Neck Creek. The bow faced into the gentle breeze, and he found himself captivated by the movement of Juliana’s blonde tresses when the sunlight spun golden flickers within each strand.
“Oh my G-d, I had a blast! When can we go out again?” She beamed, bouncing on her toes.
“Whenever you want.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Sure. Does that mean you’ve decided to stay tonight at Evermore with me?” he nodded eagerly, urging her agreement. The Giants baseball cap he wore, mandatory apparel as his grandmother would surely be televising the afternoon game against the St. Louis Cardinals, bobbed up and down accentuating his request.
Juliana wrapped an arm around his waist and gazed up at him with a playful twinkle in her eyes. She stood on her tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “Yes. I’ll stay, but no monkey business.” A little nibble to his earlobe followed.
“Keep doing that and I won’t be responsible
for my actions.”
He steered the boat alongside the lengthy pier, leaving her side to grab the two dock lines before jumping up onto the dock. Having sailed solo hundreds of times, he’d grown accustomed to tethering the boat without a helper. One day, he’d teach her, but for now, he just wanted her to enjoy the experience of cruising the Long Island Sound on a day when the water was like glass and the wind was perfect.
It was a sublime day. Watching Juliana loosen up and take to boating was an enchanting experience, particularly when she felt comfortable enough to remove her life preserver. Seeing her smile and hearing her laughter float upon the salty air made his heart stir and now he was preparing to introduce her to the woman who began it all.
Within minutes, the boat was secured. After gathering their belongings, he helped Juliana step off, onto the pier, his eyes taking in her relaxed sun-kissed form. “Are you ready to meet everyone?”
“That’s it? You’re just going to leave the boat like this?”
“Sure. It’s my grandmother’s dock. It’s safe, don’t worry.”
Jack looked down at her questioning brow. Taking one of her hands, he wove his fingers with hers as a slow smile spread upon his lips before bending to kiss her. Sweet and salty mouths met, and he could feel the warmth upon her lips. He pulled away and gave her a heart-filled look. “Let’s go meet your family, Julie. They’re waiting for you.”
As they walked down the dock, she licked her bottom lip reveling in the lingering tingle he had deposited. There was something in that tender kiss, something she hadn’t felt in the few they shared previously. As wonderful as all those prior kisses had been, including their first one in the sunroom at the Sea Otter Bed & Breakfast, this kiss stirred something deeper in her.
A breeze blew and the trees at the edge of the pier seemed to dance, bidding them welcome to safe ground. Everything felt crisp, as though a lens had come into focus. Gone was any lasting anger toward her mother. Somehow, somewhere, and at sometime along this journey, she had come to terms with Susan’s abandonment. Sitting across from her uncle and searching his eyes, Juliana discerned the wounds buried in his heart and soul. In his words she heard his inability to forgive, the pain he carried in his broken heart. He was clearly a man who’d been abandoned for the second time by the one person he deeply loved. William Martel, a man she once considered so wholly unconnected to her modern life, had irrevocably altered her perspective on so many things—unbeknownst to him.
At the tree line, a tilted, weathered wooden sign read “Evermore” with child-like writing in black paint. Juliana heard music and laughter carrying on the breeze from beyond the shrubs and sand. Butterflies flapped wildly in her tummy as she followed Jack along the stone paver path through the woods at the back entrance of the estate.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“Nah, a walk in the park. Tell me again, how many cousins I have?”
“Plenty, but the generations are a bit skewed because Lizzy had three children before Lillian gave birth to your father and Aunt Kitty started her family a lot later. Aunt Annette, Lizzy’s eldest child has three sons: Adam, Mitch, and Doug. Aunt Kitty also has three kids, two sons: Gary the physical therapist is single, and Sammy the cardiologist is married to Patty. Sammy and Patty have two boys: Stephen and Jake. Kitty’s youngest is Jeanna but she isn’t married. Wendy—
“Jack, hold on, I’m not going to remember all this.”
“Sure you will. It’s not that tough. Wendy is Uncle Dan’s daughter. She and Doug are the youngest of the entire clan. She’s pregnant but try to overlook the fact that she’s not married. Things happen, but everyone’s excited about it. But, I have to warn you, if you call Lizzy a great-grandmother, she’ll crucify you. It makes her feel about 90.”
She laughed. “Good to know. I wouldn’t want to piss her off on our first meeting. Annette’s son, Doug, he’s the flirt, right?”
“Yes. He has a thing for blondes so look out. I’m the oldest of the first cousins, followed by Adam. He’s the quiet one who eats, sleeps, and breathes Robertsen Aviation. He’s not rude or arrogant but merely reticent, so don’t be put off by him. My grandmother says that still waters run deep, whatever the hell that means.”
“It means he’s just shy and intelligent, but underneath that placid exterior he’s very passionate.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah, he needs a wild woman to shake him up and get him out of the house.”
“And what about Mitch and Jeanna?”
“Spitting personality images of what I assume my grandmother was like at their age. Wild and adventurous, total free spirits. Mitch is a surfer, married to Sunny for about a year. Jeanna’s a typical redhead and is funny as all get out. She’ll have you pissing in your pants with her imitation of Grandmother waterskiing.”
“Lizzy water skis?”
“Hell yeah, but she wears this white bathing cap from the 1950s that makes her look like a Cone Head from Saturday Night Live! Jeanna imitates Jane Curtain’s voice whenever she makes fun of Grandmother shouting ‘Woo hoo’ with an arm in the air. You’ll have to ask her to do that.”
“What about your dad and mom? Will they be here, too?”
“Absolutely! Do you really think they’d miss an opportunity to meet Lillian’s granddaughter? It’s bad enough they never met your dad. They’re not about to miss out on meeting you, too.”
It was the last thing he said before opening the wood picket gate leading them through Lizzy’s garden. Fully blossomed hydrangeas of pink and lavender welcomed them. The scent of old Long Island and Evermore’s herbs and roses mixed with the sea air and Juliana’s coconut suntan oil.
“Do I look all right? Should I put a top on over my swimsuit?” she whispered.
“Are you kidding? You look beautiful. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”
“And you’re full of shit.”
Jack halted, stopping them both below an arched trellis covered by hot pink clematis. He dropped the overnight bag he held onto the grass then took Juliana into his arms, breathlessly holding her against his chest. “Are you fishing for a compliment, Julie?”
She grinned naughtily, watching a trickle of perspiration roll down his temple. “Perhaps. Perhaps I’m fishing for more than a compliment. You are quite a waterman after all, and I seem to be highly susceptible to your charms and skill at the helm.”
Jack’s playful smile descended to her lips for another kiss as his splayed palm glided down her bared spine. This lip lock was heart stopping; their probing tongues dueling in exquisite tandem. Jack’s embrace engulfed her entire body, molding it, and consuming it into his. She felt like she was floating on air, yet grounded by the anchor of his obvious emotion. Simultaneous feelings of security and euphoria almost caused her to swoon with an unfamiliar certainty that she was exactly where she wanted to be and feeling confident about everything, even her worthiness to experience this type of bliss.
Jack’s mouth had barely separated from hers when he whispered. “I love you.”
She smiled coyly, nodding slightly, unable to articulate with words that she too felt something so much more than an attraction.
“C’mon,” he said, their eyes locked, both happily grinning. In the distance, the Beach Boys sang “Fun, Fun, Fun.” There was a party going on and, according to Jack, she was the guest of honor.
They giggled as they ran down the grassy path toward the lake where the annual family gathering was taking place. The scent of hot dogs and hamburgers cooking on the barbeque wafted toward them. As soon as they passed through the shrubs, they both stopped dead on a dime, hands clasped and mouths agape at the scene before them. On the grass, everyone was dancing and twisting to the music, singing along with Mike Love. In the center of the circle Lizzy and Louie laughed together as they contorted their bodies to the fun lyrics.
Juliana looked up at Jack’s humored expression as she cried out, laughing. “My grandfather’s here!”
Lizzy turned in their direction, le
tting out a squeal of delight.
She was a beautiful woman, exactly as her photographs conveyed, only with delicate laugh lines and a toned, tanned body. As though the passage of time hadn’t aged either her appearance or her youthful spirit, she wore a red tennis skirt paired with a Grateful Dead t-shirt that read, “Giants, Steal Your Base” across the front. In Juliana’s opinion, she was the hippest 70 year-old she had ever seen.
Lizzy ran to Jack and Juliana with outstretched arms. “Oh. My. Gawd! You’re adorable! Jackie, she’s adorable! Welcome!”
Two arms encircled Juliana’s slight form like a vice grip in a huge bear hug that wouldn’t let go. Her wide eyes took in all the relatives, whose activities had abruptly ceased, gathering closer, watching them. She spotted Aunt Kitty wiping away brimming tears as a pregnant Wendy wrapped her arm around her, now familiar, great-aunt.
A very handsome, tall guy stood off to the left with his arms folded across his chest. He wore a quizzical expression and even in the chaos of Lizzy’s greeting and the family kissing and hugging Jack, Juliana thought she recognized a similarity in manner and appearance between him and Uncle Will.
She felt overwhelmed by all the attention and the fierce hug. Looking over Lizzy’s shoulder, she saw her best friend—her rock—emerge through the crowd: her grandfather bearing that comforting trademark smirk of his. She thought she saw tears in his eyes, too. Even Louise was present, walking behind him with a joyful countenance.
Lizzy set Juliana back. “Let me look at you. Your grandmother would not approve. You need some fattening up!” She laughed devilishly. “Well we’re here now to pick up where she left off.” She waved to Mr. Quizzical Expression. “Fill this little one a plate with a double cheeseburger and potato salad, Adam. Danny, make an egg cream for my great-niece.”
