LILIANA

It was January 1st, 1971, my 25th birthday. I was feeling very blue that day. My grandfather had died two weeks prior and there was no one left who loved me. The box, about twelve inches square, brown-paper wrapped and tied up with yellowed cotton twine, showed up on my doorstep in the late afternoon. I noticed it when I returned from my walk to the beach. Right away I knew this was going to be strange. There was nothing on it : no tracking numbers, no postage, no addresses. Only a scrawled name, Liliana

I took the box into the kitchen, set it on the table and turned to make a cup of tea. I was racking my brain for a way to not have to deal with this strange intrusion. Maybe this wasn't meant for me. Maybe I should drop it off at the P.O. or take it next door and put it on Mrs. Jensen's porch. Settling into a kitchen chair I stared at the box, stared at the name on it. I untied the twine and pulled the brown paper off. Jumping up, I walked around the room, not enjoying this feeling of excitement drowning in dread. Don't open it, don't open it I told myself. But I did and my life changed.

My mom and dad, Lily and Jack, were spies on an island in the Pacific in the big one, WW II. It sounds so All-American, war movie romantic, doesn't it? Unfortunately, they both died there. I was raised by my grandpa, Jackson Jorday, in the house my mom grew up in. I never knew my parents. Grandpa had never met Jack and didn't even know his last name, kept secret due to the spying activities. He shared with me photos and growing-up stories of my mom. And he told me the war stories that went along with the ribbons and decorations, posthumously awarded. These were kept snug in my Sea Lion Cave treasure box grandpa got me on one of our many expeditions. He was a good man, stubbornly set in his ways but grandpa loved me unconditionally. We cooked together, singing and laughing and dancing around the kitchen. I'm a real walking compendium of old music, generally unappealing to my generation. He was not having any Elvis music in our house, with that indecent dancing. The Beatles, the British invasion? Foreigners with girlie hair. He taught me how to live in, on and with the ocean, tramped with me over the hills, collecting leaves and berries, bugs and reptiles. He raised me to respect all living things, especially our fellow man, who required a lot more patience than our animal neighbors. Truly, his life was spent making sure I was happy and had everything I needed and most of what I wanted. If not for him my dream of becoming a biologist would have remained just that. I owed him a lot. Now he was gone. All I know is this, I was born on the island my folks died on, my grandpa came and brought me home, my mom's name was Lily Jorday and so is mine. Who is Liliana?

Striding back to the box, I grabbed the lid with both hands and pulled it off. I was staring down at a stack of photographs, immediately recognizing the one on top. We had one just like it on our photograph wall. I had always loved this picture. It was my mom, on a camping trip, in front of a tent between two men, laughing and holding up cups. They looked so joyful, so...effervescent. There were no names on our photo. Grandpa said they were some school friends of mom's but he couldn't remember who they were. But on this photo was written, 'Liam, Anatoly and me...the adventure begins, 1938'. Underneath the photo was a black leather book, under this more photos. I picked up the little black book. It was thick and soft. Again, I thought don't open it, don't open it. But I did and it rocked my world.

It began: To our beautiful daughter, all our love, Your mom and dads, 1964. I fell back in my chair, hard. What is going on? Was this box meant for me? What about the stories grandpa told me? Was this a sick joke or a shocking truth? I turned another page of the journal, then another. Then I read and read and laughed and cried and couldn't stop reading until the end and the invitation. I began pulling out the other photographs. There was always at least one of them in each photo, alone or with others, in various settings: tropical beach scenes, a jungle camp, a schooner, a zoo? All three were in the last photo. Gently aging, jungle in the background, cups in hand, waving at the camera, at me. Beckoning, inviting. They were no longer at the beginning of their adventure, but right in the middle of it. Still joyful, still effervescent. I was elated, devastated, drained. This little black book held the story of my parents' lives, their love and bravery but it also told the tale of my grandfather's betrayal. How could he do it?

Liam Murphy, Anatoly De Vries, known as Toly, and Lily Jorday grew up together on Santa Catalina, an island off the coast of California. Catalina was a small community, not many children there. From a young age the three were inseparable. Close friendships and strong bonds developed on that tiny bit of land, nurtured by the sun and the sea. They swam and sailed, hiked and explored, studying and collecting flora and fauna, like I would years later. They loved nature and intended to have a life living in it. When they finished college on the mainland, Liam's education paid for by his father's employer, Mr. Wrigley himself, Toly was told it was time to return to the family home with the aunt and uncle who had been raising him in the states. He declared he wouldn't go unless he could bring the two people he loved most in the world, and he did.

For the threesome this was the opportunity of a lifetime. Sailing off to what was known then as the Dutch East Indies, where the De Vries' family had extensive land holdings, would make it possible to live their dreams. Unfortunately, Jackson Jorday put his foot down and said no. His daughter was not going to run off with two men to the far side of the world inhabited by uncivilized savages and God knows what else. Made no difference that he'd known Liam and Toly, and their families, for years.

As you can guess, Lily did go with her best friends. She left her father a note, snuck out before dawn and sailed off in a schooner commissioned by Toly's family. That was probably not a good idea, leaving the note. She explained that her love for Liam and Anatoly, and their's for her, was more than just friendship. They were soul mates, connected in every way men and women could be. They were going to live their dream of exploring jungle islands and learning about the wildlife in a place with few people to judge them. She promised to send letters and let him know how she was and where. She never imagined how angry he was and how that anger festered. It wasn't that she left when he said no, it was who she left with and why.

Before Lily was able to get settled and send a letter home, Japan invaded the islands. Mr. De Vries had been meeting with government officials from the various countries invested in the South East Asia islands, discussing the inevitable invasion by Japan. He returned home with two-way radios and a promise that his family, like many others, would set up positions on the coast and report on the movement of Japanese forces.

That's just what Lily, Liam and Toly did during the war. The medals and ribbons and war stories grandpa told? All lies, maybe meant to sooth his soul. They weren't in the military but the three sacrificed and risked their lives, living in the jungle for months at a time, coming out for necessary supplies. After an injury to Toly's foot wouldn't heal and became gangrenous, Liam carried him hundreds of miles to the De Vries' plantation which, thank goodness, had not and would not be visited by the Japanese. Lily stayed behind to man the radio and Toly lost three toes. No Purple Heart was awarded.

The war finally ended. Nothing was back to normal yet when they found they were with child. They were ecstatic, as was Toly's family. Some might wonder about and judge the three but they knew that those who loved them, their families, never would. Lily sent a letter to grandpa, asking him to come. She loved and missed him and wanted him to meet his granddaughter. He didn't answer, eventually he just showed up. She never imagined he would be so heartless.

Lily apologized in the journal for everything that came next. She said she wasn't strong enough to stop it. Grandpa showed up and accused her of an unholy union. Swore he would never let a child of his blood be raised in this immoral atmosphere in a jungle full of savages. Mom said he railed like a madman and stormed out. She thought he would never be back. But, just as Lily had done several years before, grandpa left her a letter and kidnapped me, stole me out of the nursery in the early morning. He said he was taking his grandchild back home, to a civilized place. As long as he was alive, no matter the cost to those involved, they would never see the child again. Lily believed him. My parents had nothing after the war except drive and determination and the belief that their daughter would not be lost to them forever. I was two years old.

My parents made it to the states the year I turned eighteen. They had spent the previous sixteen years living for this moment. They contacted a childhood friend, Crazy Ray, who was still on the island and still crazy. Elated that they were alive and not dead war heroes, as he had been told, Ray gave them the bad news. Jackson and Lily wouldn't be home for a month. A slight change of plans meant they would just have to keep their fingers crossed. Ray said he'd make sure I got the box after grandpa died. Lily wrote down their story and they placed it and the other items in the box. The journal ended where my involvement began, with the brown-papered box..

So that's the true account of my parents' early life and my beginnings, laid out in a little black book. After I finished reading I put the journal on the table and sat for awhile, calming down. As angry and disappointed and heartbroken as I was over what my grandfather did to me and to my parents, of what he denied us, I will always love him. I'll never understand how he could do what he did, loving him will have to be enough. Who knows, maybe growing up on that rock twenty six miles at sea was a good thing.

I thought about my parents' invitation to come to them when I was able. That was going to be real soon. Under that last photo, the one of my parents beckoning me, were one hundred dollar bills, wrapped in rubber bands. Two hundred of them! That's $20,000!

I settled Jackson Jorday's estate, gave the property to a woman's shelter, and left for New Guinea, to finally meet and work with all three of my parents at their wildlife sanctuary. I am no longer alone. So, who is Liliana? I am, of course!

Li(Lily) li(Liam) ana(Anatoly)

LILIANA