Coulson's Wife (The Coulson Series) (10 page)

T
he
influenza epidemic of 1918, referred to as the Spanish influenza, killed
approximately 50 million people worldwide within just a few months—more deaths
than any other illness in recorded history. Although the disease was being
reported overseas in Madrid, America was not paying attention. Troop movements
during the final days of World War I contributed to the influenza’s rapid
spread.

Philadelphia would be
the American city with the highest death toll. No one really noticed when the
first few cases were reported in mid-September, but by the first week of
October theatres, restaurants, churches, vaudeville and saloons were closed
throughout the state, with schools closing in Philadelphia.

“You’ve closed the
factory?” Mary Ellen greeted Randall at the front door. He’d told her his
intentions that morning, but she wasn’t certain he would do it.

“I had no choice. It
seems as if ninety-five percent of our labor force is either down with influenza
or nursing a family member.”

“I assume William
agreed.”

“He wanted me to do it
last week.”

“How is William? I
haven’t seen him since the theatre.”

“Like me, he’s managed
to avoid this damn thing. But I don’t know for how long. How are you feeling,
Mary Ellen?”

Randall turned to his
wife, sincere concern showing on his face.

“I’m fine. Just getting
a little stir crazy, being confined to the estate.”

“Trust me, you’re
better here.”

“I admit, I miss Lily.
Never thought I would say that when I first met her.” Together they walked toward
the kitchen, as dinner was about to be served.

“When this finally
breaks, she can come back. But I don’t want the staff coming and going,
bringing the illness here.”

“Thank you for paying
her while she’s off, her family needs the money.”

“I don’t want you to
worry; it’s not good for the baby.” Randall failed to tell her it was actually William
who suggested he continued to pay Lily while she was temporarily off work. With
two small children at home, she was not in a position to live full time at the
estate.

 William understood why
Randall didn’t want staff coming and going, bringing the illness to Mary Ellen.
The influenza gave William another reason to avoid coming to Coulson Estate.
Should he come down with the influenza, he did not want to infect her or risk
the unborn baby’s health. Randall was taking every precaution when out in
public, which included wearing a face mask, yet he too was at risk.

They found Mrs. Parker
in the kitchen, preparing something for them to eat. The cook, like Lily, was
no longer coming to work, as she had a family off the estate to tend for. With
the cook and Lily absent, many of their duties fell on Mrs. Parker’s shoulders.

“You can serve dinner
now,” Mary Ellen told the housekeeper, then she and Randall went to the dining
room.

“It’s a pitiful thing,”
Mrs. Parker said as she served them each a bowl of soup. “I heard from Clara
Barnes that the bridge ladies—you know them I think, they all live on the next
street over.” Formality between the few remaining members of the household
staff and the Coulsons was another casualty of the epidemic.

“Bridge ladies?” Mary
Ellen asked with a frown.

“Oh, you haven’t met
them, Mrs. Coulson. My friends call them the bridge ladies because the four
faithfully play bridge every Tuesday night. They play until the wee hours of
the morning. Have for the last fifteen years. They got together last Tuesday
for their regular game, and by the next morning—every single one of them had
come down with the influenza and died. Dropped dead right during the bridge
game.”

“Oh, Mrs. Parker, where
did you ever hear such a thing?” Randall asked.

“I told you, Mr. Randall,
from Clara Barnes.”

“And how did you happen
to talk to Clara Barnes?”

“On the telephone.”

“Mrs. Parker, you need
to remember, none of us are to use the telephone lines unless it is an absolute
necessity. They need to be kept open for emergencies.”

“Mr. Randall, I thought
all four of the bridge ladies dropping over in a single night was something of
an emergency.”

“Plus, I really don’t
think Mrs. Coulson needs to hear this talk. It’s upsetting her.”

Mrs. Parker glanced
over at Mary Ellen who was now white as a ghost, her eyes wide. The housekeeper
blushed from embarrassment and apologized, before leaving the room to get the
rest of the meal.

“Do you think that’s
true?” Mary Ellen asked in a whisper. Randall reached over and patted her right
hand, giving it a little squeeze.

“I’m afraid it might
be. I actually heard a similar story from Sargent O’Malley. His version was
slightly different—it was three women, but I do believe the basic story is true.”

“I wish I could help in
some way.”

“You just have one job,
Mary Ellen, and that is to take care of yourself and our baby.”

“I know, but I feel so
helpless.” Mrs. Parker reentered the dining room with the second course of the
meal.

Randall failed to tell
his wife the full horrors of the epidemic. Fortunately, the estate was moved
far enough off the roadway so that it was virtually impossible to see all that
had been happening beyond their gates.

Horse drawn carts made
their way through the streets of the city collecting corpses. According to
O’Malley, over 500 bodies were awaiting burial and it might take over a week
before they could be put in the ground. It was impossible to keep up with the
demand for coffins.

Just that afternoon, he
made a sardonic quip to William that it would be an excellent time to jump into
the coffin business. Yet both he and William knew that as much as there was
some truth to the jest, it would be impossible to find labor to produce the
coffins. The epidemic was having a severe adverse financial impact on
Coulson-Hunter Enterprises.

 “Over a year ago, had
someone told me how quickly things can change, I would have given little
thought to such an observation. But it is really quite a profound one.”  Mary
Ellen said after Mrs. Parker left the room.

“When we were at the
theatre last, none of us had an inkling something like this was coming,”
Randall added.

“But it isn’t just the
influenza. I look back at my life the last year or so, and it has been nothing
but radical changes—changes that redirect our paths.”

“Like you marrying me?”
Randall asked softly.

“And the fact you and I
are talking like this. Before you left for Chicago, we never really talked.
You… you frightened me.”

“I don’t now?”

Mary Ellen smiled and
said, “A little, perhaps.”

Randall laughed. “I’ve
always thought it was a husband’s duty to keep his wife a little afraid.” While
he sounded like he was teasing, Mary Ellen knew there was truth in the statement.

“What changed,
Randall?”

“What do you mean?” He picked
up his wine glass and took a sip.

“You know what I mean,”
Mary Ellen said softly.

“I suppose I do.”
Randall sat his wine glass on the table and looked at his wife. “I’m trying to
be a better husband. I confess, I never really thought that was necessary.”

“Necessary? I really
don’t understand.”

Randall didn’t respond
immediately, but considered how best to express his thoughts. Finally he spoke.

“In life we all have
needs or desires. Let’s say, as an example, I want a new motorcar. There are
two available. The cars are exactly the same, and cost the same amount. The
only difference, the second seller demands I also give him a little dance along
with the payment. Obviously, I buy the first car, where there is no dance
required.

“It’s my observation
many men do a little dance when procuring a wife—and often they continue to do
so after the vows. I never understood that. Once the vows are exchanged, I saw
no reason for either party to do more than their basic duties.”

“A husband’s duty is to
financially support his wife, and a wife’s is to give him children,” Mary Ellen
stated, yet it was really more of a question.

“Exactly!” Randall
smiled.

“I still am not clear
in why you’ve changed since your return from Chicago. Do you see this all as
some sort of frivolous dance?”

“Not any more. It was William,
really. He was quite appalled at my lack of effort in getting to know you as a
person.  William has always been a far better man than me,” Randall said wistfully.

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s true. In some
ways, I suppose I rely on him to do the right thing—which of course allows me
to do whatever I want to. William—he lets me know when I’ve gone too far. Which
is what happened here.

“What surprised me was
how much I actually enjoy talking with you. I hadn’t expected that. I’ve never
really found women to be very interesting.”

“But you don’t love
me.” Mary Ellen had no idea why she made the statement. One moment she was
thinking it and in the next the words popped out of her mouth.

“No, nor do you love
me.” Randall smiled softly.

“And that is okay with
you, to have a marriage without love?”

“Since I was a child I
saw marriage as a necessary institution, for both the human race and the
economy. Love—love isn’t a necessary component for a successful marriage. If
one desires love, they might find it in a marriage or outside of it.

“However, I’ve come to
realize since returning from Chicago, and making an effort to know you better
as a person—that developing a close friendship with your spouse can enrich a
marriage. And while I don’t embrace the concept of being
in love
with my
spouse, I now believe it is very possible to
love
you.”

“Have you ever been in
love before?” Mary Ellen was feeling especially brave, since her husband seemed
to be in a most talkative mood.

He said nothing for a
moment, then looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Yes.”

“You’re still in love
with her,” Mary Ellen murmured.

“It really doesn’t
matter. We never—
will never
—have an opportunity to be together in that
way. I accepted that long ago and have moved on.”

Mary Ellen almost
asked,
is that why you no longer come to me at night?
Yet she wasn’t
that brave and while she enjoyed this new version of her husband, she had no
desire for him to come to her bed. 

They ate silently for a
few moments before Randall started a new conversation.

“William is picking me
up in the morning. We’re going back to the factory.”

“I thought you closed
it down?”

“We’ve some supplies
we’re donating, which we need to get from the storeroom. With the limited
manpower, William and I are going to have to do it ourselves.”

“That’s good of you
Randall.”

It was William’s idea
,
he thought, but instead said, “We were going to do it today, but it was getting
too late and we just ran out of time.”

W
illiam pressed the heel
of his palm against his right eye, trying to push back the discomfort. Clumsily
making his way from his parked car to the front door, he was having a difficult
time focusing. The pain behind his ears and eyes was excruciating.

The coughing started
after he left the plant, and he needed to call Randall. They’d been together all
day long, and Randall might be on the verge of coming down with the influenza.
According to recent reports, those who were most vulnerable to the ravages of
the current epidemic were healthy young adults. 

Pushing open his front
door, he was surprised to find the entry virtually dark.

“Henry!” he called out,
sending himself into a coughing fit. Closing the door behind him he walked
toward the hallway, where there was light.
Where is Henry?

Staggering down the
hallway, looking into the various rooms, he continually called for his butler.
The rest of his household staff had left days earlier—all needed elsewhere to
care for their family members. Only his butler, Charles Henry remained.

William found him in
the kitchen. The butler lay face down on the kitchen floor. Awkwardly dropping
to his knees by the butler’s lifeless body, William used all his limited
strength to roll Henry onto his back. The man was dead. 

With great effort, William
stumbled to his feet and made his way back down the hall to his library. He
needed to use the telephone.

• • • •

 “I thought you would
be gone by now,” Mary Ellen asked when she walked into the parlor and found
Randall drinking a cup of coffee. It was a few minutes past ten in the morning.

“William was supposed
to be here an hour ago. I tried calling him, but no answer. Which is odd. There
is always someone there.”

“You used the phone?”
She raised a brow.

“I figured this
qualifies as an emergency, since we are donating vital supplies.”

“What are you going to
do?”

“I’m going to drive
over there. This isn’t like William.”

Mary Ellen thought of
the bridge ladies, and a chill went up her spine. She said nothing.

• • • •

Thirty minutes later
Randall pulled into William’s drive and noticed his friend’s car parked at a
strange angle. It looked as if an inebriated driver had put it there.

Getting from his
motorcar, Randall went to the front door and started to knock, but noticed the
door was slightly ajar, so he pushed it inward. Immediately assaulted by a
rancid odor he quickly donned his medical facemask.  Walking toward the source
of the smell, he found himself in the kitchen, looking down at the discolored
corpse of the butler.

Immediately he started
his search for William. Running down the hall he looked into each room until he
found his friend, curled up in the fetal position on the floor of the library.
Randall rushed to William’s side and immediately dropped next to him. Pulling
the ill man into his arms he was relieved to find he was still alive.

“William!” Randall
shouted, holding on tight to his old friend.

Wearily William opened
his eyes and looked up into Randall’s face.

“Randall…” his voice
was barely a whisper. “You need to go. Let me die. Go.”

“
Damn it man
,
you will not die! Do you hear me?”

“You have a family to
think of,” William could barely make out the words.

“You’re the only family
I ever wanted, and I will be damned I let you die! You will not die!”

William grew still and
closed his eyes. Panicked, Randall pressed one ear against William’s chest. He
could hear a heartbeat. Although William was a larger man than Randall, Randall
managed to drag the sick man over to a couch, where he laid him. After
depositing William on the couch, he immediately called for help.

• • • •

 “Is he going to be
okay?” Mary Ellen clutched the telephone’s receiver as if it was a lifeline.
Holding back the tears, she refused to imagine William would die.

“The doctor is here
with him now, but he needs to leave. We moved William to one of the bedrooms
downstairs and found someone to get Henry’s body.  We need to keep these phone
lines open. I just wanted you to know what was going on and that I won’t be
home.”

“You’re staying there?”

“Medical staff is so
limited. I’m going to stay with William.”

“You’re going to care
for him?”

“Yes. The doctor told
me what I needed to do. I have to go now. I’ll try to call you when I know
something. But don’t expect to see me for a while.”

• • • •

Cradling William in his
arms, Randall brought the glass to his friend’s lips and tilted it ever so
slightly.

“Drink, it will help.”
Randall held the glass as William sipped the hot whisky. William drank a
little, and then began to cough. Getting up from the bed, Randall arranged William,
gently tucking a pillow beneath the man’s head. At least William’s nose had
stop bleeding.

The medical mask was
suffocating but Randall dare not remove it. Leaving William’s side for a moment,
he walked to the adjoining lavatory and washed his hands with warm water and
soap.

Sitting down by William’s
bed, he watched him sleep. William moaned as if in pain, and Randall reached
out and gently stroked the sleeping man’s forehead with his fingertips.

“You can’t die on me,
old friend,” Randall whispered. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I
need you in my life. Who will help me be a better person?”

William fluttered his
eyes open and looked directly into Randall’s face.

“Hello stranger. You
coming back to the living?” Randall asked with a sad smile.

“Where I am I?” William
slurred his words.

“We’re at your house,
in one of the downstairs bedrooms.”

“Henry…” William’s head
remained on the pillow; it tossed back and forth as if he was attempting to
sort things out.

“We can talk about that
later. You need your rest. Would you like some water?”

“Where’s Mary Ellen?” He
sounded delirious.

“She’s at home. Rest
now.”

“Take care of her
Randall. Don’t hurt her.”

“Rest, William, Mary
Ellen is fine. I promise.”

• • • •

Restlessly napping,
Mary Ellen sat in a rocking chair in the parlor. Randall had purchased it for
her when he returned from Chicago, saying all mothers should have their own
rocking chair. She woke up when Mrs. Parker entered the room.

“Oh, sorry Mrs.
Coulson, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, that’s okay, Mrs.
Parker. I wasn’t really sleeping. Please sit down, and keep me company.”

“I’m afraid I have some
bad news.”

Mary Ellen sat upright
and looked closely at Mrs. Parker. She hadn’t looked when the housekeeper first
came into the room, but now she could see the older woman had been crying.

“No… not William…”

“I don’t know about Mr.
William. Haven’t heard. Mr. Randall hasn’t called you?”

“No. I keep sitting by
the phone, hoping he will call, but nothing.”

Mrs. Parker let out a
weary sigh and sat in a chair by Mary Ellen. She reached out and took one of
Mary Ellen’s hands and held it.

“It’s Lily, dear.”

“Lily?”

“One of her relatives
left a note outside on the porch. I just found it. The influenza took both Lily
and her mother.”

Tears filled Mary
Ellen’s eyes. “The girls?’

“They’re with their
daddy’s mother. Both girls are fine. Apparently they were all sick, but the
girls pulled through.”

Clutching Mrs. Parker’s
hand, Mary Ellen began to weep.  It was just a matter of moments before the
housekeeper began to cry and soon the two women were holding each other,
sharing their sorrow and grief.

• • • •

An hour later, Mrs.
Parker and Mary Ellen sat at the small table in the parlor eating some food
Mrs. Parker had brought in ten minutes earlier. They’d finally stopped crying
and were both exhausted. The sun was just setting and it was quiet in the main
house.

“Where is everyone?”
Mary Ellen noticed how quiet it was.

“It’s just the two of
us.”

“Will they be back?”

“I suppose those that
survive will.”

“Do you know if they’re
having a funeral for Lily?”

“Mr. Randall would not
want you to go.”

“I know that. But do
you think they will, considering how many people are dying?”

Mrs. Parker sighed and
then said, “Mr. Randall gets annoyed with me when we discuss this sort of
thing. He doesn’t want me to upset you.”

“I need to know what is
going on. What aren’t you telling me?’

“I understand many are
being buried at Potter’s Field, they just can’t keep up.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Apparently they tag
the bodies for identification, and the Bureau of Highways is digging trenches.”

“You mean they’re
burying them without coffins?”

“They say later they’ll
dig them up, and rebury them proper. But they have to do something with the
bodies now, and there is just so many, and leaving them unburied will just make
the epidemic worse.”

Mary Ellen said
nothing, and the two women sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally Mary Ellen
chuckled then said, “Lily made me so mad when I first met her.”

“Oh, you shook her up!
She came down here that first morning, terrified you were going to have Mr.
Coulson show her the door.”

“And you never said
anything to my husband?”

“No. Lily was basically
a good girl, and she really needed this job. She had those two little girls to
take care of.”

“What will happen to
them now?”

“From what I understand
her mother-in-law is a very nice lady, adores those girls. Their papa was her
only child, so I imagine she will smother them with love.”

“I suppose that’s the
important thing for a child. To give them lots of love. That’s what I want to
give this baby, all my love.”