A Moment Forever

by Cat Gardiner

  “Yes.” She beamed. “I came in 75th in my age group. Four hours and 32 minutes.”

  “Do you still run?”

  “Only a couple of miles in the morning, nothing like a marathon. I no longer have a need for that type of running. Been there, done that.”

  “Now she waterskis.”

  Lizzy continued to blush, embarrassed that Annette would so eagerly out the latent pistol-like ways she had tried to keep concealed from almost everyone. Good humored, though, she laughed and shook her head. “Would you stop, Annette. You’re going to run him off, and I’ve only just found him again.”

  “Don’t bet on it, Pistol. I’m not going anywhere—ever.”

  “I’m hardly that pistol any longer, Ducky. I spend my days gardening and at the museum now. Although, I am looking for a partner in crime, someone to travel the world with. Would you be interested?”

  The twinkle in her eyes undid him, and he continued to search her face as they walked. Annette was seemingly all but forgotten outside of the lover’s stare.

  “A partner … hmm … absolutely. I always wanted to go to Rome. Would that interest you?”

  “Venice, too?”

  “Without a doubt, Venice, and kiss under the Bridge of Sighs. I once made a promise that I intend on keeping.”

  “Oh yes, that promise in Lakeland beside the swans that mate for life. I like a man who keeps his word.” Lizzy’s satisfied grin teased him. “I knew you would keep it … eventually.” Yes, she wasn’t going anywhere without him—G-d willing—for the next twenty or so years.

  “Florida?” Annette asked. “Did you stay at Rosebriar Manor?”

  Will grinned naughtily at Lizzy, and she playfully smirked before stating in typical Will fashion. “Perhaps.”

  At the end of the bridge, the back of Notre Dame’s steeple towered in the distance. The threesome’s playful banter and talk of the future dissipated into somber silence. There was a solemnity in their approach, one that was more than apprehension to walk these hallowed grounds of the memorial. Below their footsteps was the crypt-like shrine to the 200,000 people deported from Vichy France to Nazi concentration camps between 1940 and 45.

  Annette separated from Lizzy and Will when they arrived at the lush green park where the memorial invited visitors to reflection within the cultivated beauty. Gray stone walls surrounded two stairwells that descended to the narrow entrance to the tomb where a sacred gallery lie hidden from view. Within, urns of ashes from each camp as well as golden crystal-lined walls symbolized the call of remembrance to the victims. A singular flickering light on the stone floor represented an unknown deportee killed at the Neustadt camp.

  Lizzy searched Will’s face as he watched Annette smooth her hand over the rough wall, her countenance was thoughtful. Her affect seemed to be more than one who had worked at bringing the museum on Long Island to fruition or having an adoptive brother who survived the Holocaust. Her expression was profoundly moved and troubled, and Lizzy wondered if she felt an innate connection to those memorialized here.

  A squeeze of his hand brought Will from the tender regard of the elegant daughter he didn’t know. “I’ll go to her. Maybe we can talk below that tree on the bench there,” Lizzy quietly spoke.

  “Lizzy … I’m fearful about this. What if—”

  “Me, too, but Annette is unlike any woman that I know.” She touched his cheek. “Her heart is as pure as yours. She’s all goodness, just like her father.”

  “What if she doesn’t want me?”

  “Nonsense.”

  His lips tenderly pecked hers and he furrowed his brow, speaking from his heart. “I love you. I … I didn’t thank you. Thank you for her. Thank you for doing what I couldn’t—for protecting her, loving her, and raising her surrounded by my faith, giving her brothers and a father who would provide her the world.”

  “Oh, baby, you don’t have to thank me. Your love gave her—and me—life.”

  She kissed him more fully before leaving him standing there awaiting his girls beside the river. He watched as Lizzy approached Annette then took her hand in hers and whispered something into her ear. He swallowed hard and prayed, hoping that his daughter would know him in her heart—and accept him without condemnation to either him or her mother. Moreover, he prayed for her forgiveness toward Lizzy at keeping such a secret from her.

  Together the women walked arm in arm to him, the younger of the two giving him an easy smile. His heart hammered in anxiety. He smiled back and the three of them casually strolled to the stone bench beneath one of the island’s ancient linden trees.

  “The two of you look as though you have the weight of the world upon your shoulders,” Annette observed. “It must be this memorial. I feel it, too.”

  “Please sit, Annette. Will and I have something important to share with you.”

  “Are you marrying my mother already?”

  He looked to Lizzy and smiled from his heart. He didn’t need to waste days, weeks, or months mulling that decision over. “Perhaps.”

  A breeze blew and Lizzy could hear the rustle of leaves above. Encouraged by their energy, she reached for Will’s hand, tightly clasping it. “You never asked why my romance with my flyboy came to an end?”

  “Well, I just figured that was your business. You never asked how I knew about Frank’s cheating. Some things we keep private.”

  “And some things we shouldn’t and what I have to say is something I should have told you many years ago, at the very least, when your father died.”

  Will remained silent, watching the changing expression on Annette’s face, noting similarities to his mother’s when trepidation furrowed her brow.

  He squeezed Lizzy’s hand. “Your mother thought I was dead during the war, and I thought she didn’t want to wait for me when her letters suddenly stopped. You see, someone had deliberately taken our correspondence in their attempt and success to keep us apart.”

  “During that same time, your grandfather was pushing me to marry one of his Nazi thugs as I waited for a letter, word … anything. Frederick and Ingrid knew Will was Jewish and I panicked.”

  “Feeling alone and frightened, John Robertsen came to her aid, offering what she believed was the only choice from the dilemma and dangerous position she found herself in.”

  Lizzy took a deep breath before stating with a tremble to her voice. “I … was pregnant. With you. You weren’t premature—in fact, you were a little late, born just over nine months after my visit to Florida.”

  Annette’s face froze as she absorbed her mother’s shocking declaration. “What? … What are you saying, Mother? Are you telling me that Dad wasn’t my father, and that Will is?” She leaned away from Lizzy, seeking clarity and a damn better explanation than “you weren’t premature.”

  “No. John was your father in almost every way, but Will is your birth father. He gave you life, and John saved it—both out of intense love.”

  Annette looked up, her eyes switching from her mother to the man standing before her. She said nothing in reply. Her expressionless face failed in concealing the tumult coursing through her.

  Attempting to maintain her equanimity, she silently rose, forcing Will and Lizzy’s hands to separate when she walked between them to the stone wall at the river’s edge. Her mind raced as she looked out at the water. The weight of her mother’s declaration felt suffocating. She felt sick to her stomach as though having lived a lie.

  Her parents watched her from behind, both unsure, both tentative on how—or if—they should react—go to her or patiently wait for her readiness or, worse, censure. They looked at each other and Lizzy gave up a slight, unsure shrug, shaking her head in uncertainty. Will gave her a reassuring smile and, once again, took her hand, squeezing it.

  Together, they watched as Annette raised her arm and rested her palm upon the tree trunk beside her for support. She stood still until her body expended what they assumed was a deep sigh. They hoped it was resignation when she glanced over her sho
ulder at them, her lips a taut line.

  Finally turning to view them face to face, her expression remained impassive as she walked toward them. She took their clasped hands into hers, leading them both back to the bench.

  Lizzy sat beside Annette, but Will dropped to his knees before his daughter, speaking with fear in his heart. “I know you’re shocked. I was, too. I didn’t know either, Annette. Otherwise, I would have come to you years ago, but please, don’t be angry with your mother. It saddens me that I’ve missed your life, but I forgive her and, in time, I will forgive the person who separated us all those years ago. But, more importantly, I hope you can forgive as well. Lizzy loved your father and breaking his heart was the last thing she wanted to do, but in hindsight, I should have married her before I left for England. I should have married her in Lakeland.” His voice cracked slightly when his emotion bubbled to the surface, eyes meeting Lizzy’s tear-filled pools. “But I was too chicken.”

  “But … all these years. You said you never stopped thinking of her.”

  “That’s true. She’s my soul mate.”

  “And in hindsight, I should have tried to go to Will’s parents when I found out that I was pregnant because the love I have for him could never have been substituted. I am sure, they would have cared for us.”

  “But, but you loved Dad, too, enough to keep me from knowing my birth father.”

  “Yes, but I loved him differently, as he loved me differently. However, he deserved my fidelity and commitment. He deserved every happiness. Apart from Will, John was the best of men. He married me to protect us both, as well as your aunt Kitty, and he undeniably loved you as Will would have.”

  Annette reached her hand out to Will, their fingers entwining becoming one as they both held tight to the other. Her heart raced, seeing the hopeful expression in his eyes. She didn’t know what to think—what to believe. Her mind felt scrambled and overwhelmed, but what she did feel was that holding his hand felt right. She looked down at their clasped hands and smiled thoughtfully. A quiet calm pervaded her spirit and a sense of coming home like she had never before experienced. She adored her deceased father, but this man made her feel content and comfortable. His very presence felt grounding. He was a rock of strength, and the way her mother clung and looked to him for support both at the restitution ceremony and now, it was clear that she thought so as well—even after five decades of separation.

  She sighed. This man before her was her flesh and blood, and she scanned his handsome face—the cleft chin, the small dimple, his brown eyes, and his quiet reserve. Why hadn’t she noticed the resemblance to Adam before? It was there on that photograph all along. An amused smile formed. “Earlier, Mother called you Ducky. She used to call me Duckling.”

  Annette looked back and forth to their matching gardenias, now limp after the long day. “You’re the reason she never stopped trying to make the gardenia bushes bloom at Evermore. The Avercamp …”

  In sudden realization, she turned to look over her shoulder at the memorial. “In addition to Henri, you’re the reason we were all raised with the tenets of Judaism in our family. Your faith is my faith, your family history is my family history—the reason I never felt at home sitting in a church.”

  Lizzy cocked her head. “Really? Is that true? You never said.”

  “It’s why I wanted to be married at Evermore not Trinity Church. Oftentimes, I thought of converting but Frank was such a jerk about it, I never pursued it. If only you had told me.”

  “There were many reasons why I didn’t. I was afraid of hurting everyone, but in the end I did just that. I’m so sorry.” Lizzy hung her head in shame. “I’m so, so, sorry. Please forgive me, darling.”

  Annette’s eyes welled with unshed tears at seeing a lone teardrop fall from her mother’s eye. “I can’t be mad at you. I want to be, but I can’t because I know, truly know, that everything you have done—or not done—was out of great love and honor. Seeing the two of you together, hearing your story, it is clear that you sacrificed your own heart’s desires for us kids and Dad, and for that, I can think of no greater reason to forgive you.”

  Mother and daughter hugged as tears streamed, the weight lifted from Lizzy’s burdened heart and mind, the final piece of atonement made.

  Annette released her mother from their embrace and turned to Will, once again taking his hand in both of hers. Their eyes met. “Will, I’m so happy that you’ve come back to my mother, and I am delighted to learn that I am a Martel as well as a Robertsen. Very few women throughout their lives are given the opportunity to have two loving fathers pick up where the other has left off in the course of 49 years. I can think of no better birthday gift.”

  Will bit his lip to keep it from trembling until she hugged him.

  “My dearest, darling daughter,” he cried, holding her tightly against the strong rhythm of his heart.

  ~~*~~

  Forty-Three

  Till The End of Time

  Two months later

  September 18, 1992

  Will opened his eyes to the most perfect sight in the world, Lizzy lying beside him as the rising morning sun turned the horizon of San Francisco Bay shades of pink and purple. Even the image of the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance paled in comparison to her slumbering in peaceful tranquility. Long lashes kissed her tanned flesh, and he resisted the urge to do the same, afraid to wake her as he watched her in awe. Two months ago, this image was only one he imagined in his dreams, but there was no mistaking this as reality. He never felt so alive in his life.

  After flying them down on the Cessna the night before, they had arrived at the Fairmont Hotel and boldly loved one another with the balcony doors wide open to the moonlit city. He laid their admiring her and chuckling how Pistol insisted on trying position number 30 from the Kama Sutra. Amazed that, at their age, they were able to accomplish “the deck chair,” he was sure that, after looking ahead in the book, number 32 would be the death of him. Lord knows they had to skip number 15 altogether, finding themselves sprawled naked on the floor and laughing hysterically at the absurdity of him attempting a back bend. Not even at thirty would he have been able to accomplish that. But he was game to try, and that in and of itself was monumental.

  She smiled in her sleep, then dreamily said, “What’s so funny?”

  He deposited a gentle peck to both her closed eyes before dropping a kiss to her luscious lips. “I was thinking of number 30,” he murmured, smoothing the palm of his hand down her nude, soft skin. Delighting in the feel of her, there was no longer the need to call upon the memory of her curves. She was here for real in all her glory, beside him, wanting him—forever.

  “Hmm, that was amazing. You were amazing.” Lizzy slid closer to him, her nipples brushing against his bare chest and she could feel his growing arousal against her apex.

  “Number 31?” she asked.

  “You’re insatiable, my love.”

  “What time do we have to leave today? Do you think we can reach 34 by then?”

  Will laughed. “I’m not twenty-one, but glad you think I have it in me. Perhaps if we leave at noon, we might make it to number 32.”

  They laid feeling their pounding hearts beat against the other’s chest. Will brushed her cheek with the back of his fingertips, slowly sliding them down her neck in a tender caress. So consumed by emotion, he fought the urge to cry, his heart overcome with this unbelievable reality.

  He whispered in the shadow of her near lips. “Do you remember the first time I made love to you?”

  She nodded, smoothing her fingers over his brow.

  “Every time feels like that time. I loved you so much as a young man that it etched into my soul for all eternity. But the love I feel for you now, Lizzy, is so much more than even that. It’s so intense that I have no words, only intense feeling. I burn for you. I yearn for you. I’m consumed by you.”

  He watched as a trickle of tear rolled down her cheek, then he kissed it away, savoring the saltiness comingled
with the sweetness of her joy. His kisses traveled to her chin.

  Rolling her to her back, Will laid upon her completely as his lips found their way to hers. Their mouths made love to one another, giving and receiving, tongues stroking and petting in unhurried devotion, not dueling in fiery zeal. Their bodies melded in oneness sharing one breath in heated desire.

  She opened her legs, encouraging his long, smooth entrance, needing to show him that she felt the same way. Crying out, “Oh Will!” when, with a thrust, he seated himself fully in her womanhood, she clung to him.

  Stilling above her, his body recalled and mimicked that first innocent time when his heart thunderously pounded just as it did now.

  “Don’t stop,” she said with a tremor to her lip. “I need you so.”

  There were no fancy positions, no number 31, just the purity of his flesh joining to hers, becoming one.

  Lizzy wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him into her, rocking with him with each probing entrance and retreat, with each descent and thrust. He made love to her with both tenderness and fierceness, his plunges building in intense emotional power reveling in the warmth of her essence with each glide.

  “I love you!” he cried with tears, his heart bursting in unison with their joint climax as they held tightly to one another, determined to never separate.

  Entirely spent, Will fell atop her with labored breathing upon the bend of her neck. “Sometimes … it feels like a dream,” he said.

  “I know. I still can’t believe it. I never thought I’d ever get to number five let alone 31.”

  He laughed and kissed her throbbing pulse, his fingers threading with hers.

  “When are you going to get up the nerve to ask for my hand?” she panted.

  “Is that what you want—right away?”

  “Yes, silly. I didn’t wait this long to be Mrs. Martel, only to shag about shamelessly. What sort of message is that sending to our grandchildren?”

  “Who are you kidding? You love it.”

  “Yes, you’re right. I do.”