• • • •
“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.”
Chapter Nineteen
As abruptly as the Spanish Influenza swept through the city, it subsided. By the end of October, Philadelphia churches were able to reopen and soon businesses followed suit. But in those few weeks, over 12,000 people died in Philadelphia and the revenue lost for local businesses was in the millions.
Those who survived moved on and put the pandemic behind them, turning their attentions to other pressing matters. By November, World War I was coming to an end. The New Year—1919—rolled in and with it the passage of the 18th Amendment, which prohibited the manufacture, sale, transport, import, or export of alcoholic beverages. It was slated to go into effect the following year.
And in the spring of 1919, while heads of governments worked out the details of the peace treaties, Mary Ellen Coulson was preparing to give birth.
Mary Ellen sat quietly in the rocking chair reading Zane Gray’s The U.P. Trail. She was so enthralled in the story that she didn’t immediately notice William and Randall were looking her way while making teasing remarks over her choice of literature.
“What?” she finally said when she looked up and saw the two men staring at her.
“William was commenting on your most unfeminine choice of literature.”
“Wait a minute! You were the one who thought she should be reading something more appropriate for a woman in her delicate condition.”
“Oh, hush, you two!”
They both laughed at her, then went back to what they were originally discussing and left Mary Ellen to her book.
She glanced back their way after they resumed their discussion. They were no longer
watching her. Smiling softly, she considered all the changes in her life since coming to Philadelphia.
After William survived the influenza, it was weeks before she saw him. When Randall felt it was safe for William to be around Mary Ellen, he invited him for dinner. William had lost a great deal of weight and tired easily, but Mary Ellen thought he looked wonderful.
Randall insisted he stay indefinitely, suggesting he move into one of the bedrooms in the downstairs wing of the house, considering William’s estate was woefully understaffed and he hadn’t yet replaced Henry. Reluctantly, William agreed.
It was in the parlor that they were first alone with each other—Mary Ellen and William —the first time since their one night together. Mary Ellen was sitting in the rocking chair when Randall and William arrived. Randall stayed just a few minutes, and then explained he needed to go to the office for a few hours, but would be back in time for supper.
“He saved my life, you know.” William was the first to speak when they were alone.
“He was very worried about you. We both were.”
“I imagine I would have died had he not come over. He risked his life when he stayed and took care of me. He’s like a brother.”
“I know that.”
“I’m sorry about how I left—so abruptly—without saying anything.”
“I understand.” She really didn’t.
“It happened so fast—caught me off guard. And I’ve thought about it a thousand times, wondered what I should have done different. But it always comes back to the same thing—it was probably for the best. What we had for that brief time, I’ll always cherish. But we stole that time—you belong to Randall, he is your husband and soon you’ll be sharing a child. We need to put what happened behind us.”
“I love you,” Mary Ellen whispered. It wasn’t a planned acknowledgement, not something she intended to say. It was an expression she simply could not deny.
“I believe I’ll always love you, Mary Ellen.”
She closed her eyes. He loves me. He will always love me.
They hadn’t spoken again of the night together or the love they shared. William stayed for a month, and when he regained his strength he returned to his home. He continued to come to Coulson Estate for dinners—but only several times a week, not nightly.
Months earlier, in late November, Mary Ellen had received a letter from her aunt giving her the welcomed news that her brothers were all doing well. She hadn’t lost another one to war and none to the influenza.
“If you will excuse me gentleman, I think I’ll go up to bed.” Mary Ellen stood up awkwardly. The advanced state of her pregnancy made it difficult for her to maneuver.
“It’s awfully early, are you feeling all right?” Randall sounded concerned. Both men stood up.
“No, I’m fine. Just tired.” She smiled.
“Well, you’re overdue, so please don’t ignore the signs so we can call the doctor.”
“I will. Promise.” Before she left the room, Randall took one of her hands in his and pressed a kiss on the back of it. It was something he did every morning in greeting—and every evening to say good night.
“Is the doctor a little concerned she’s late?” William asked after Mary Ellen went upstairs.
“He says she’s only a few days late by best estimation. I regret not having her see him earlier in her pregnancy. Looks like it’s going to be a big baby, so I wish he’d get here soon, because she’s a small thing.”
“Have you any idea how much you weighed when you were born?”
“I don’t believe I weighed much. I recall my mother saying I was about the twins’ size, and they were pretty small.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I imagine the only reason the baby seems so large is because she’s late, and it’s still growing. But I imagine he’ll get here soon enough.”
William thought a moment of his own mother who died shortly after his birth. He once heard his grandmother talking to one of the neighbor women about how he had been such a large baby and that his mother never recuperated from the labor. He wished Mary Ellen would hurry and have Randall’s child so he could stop worrying about her.
Upstairs, Mary Ellen felt the first contraction; it hit her as swiftly and as brutally as the influenza had hit Philadelphia. Fortunately, Mrs. Parker was just coming up the stairs and heard Mary Ellen cry out.
Mary Ellen lay on the floor holding her belly, telling herself she couldn’t be in labor. By her estimation, she wasn’t due for another three weeks. By the time the doctor arrived, she was in full labor, but there were complications. Harrison Randall Coulson arrived at 10:32 pm. on March 22, 1919, weighing in at 9 pounds 5 ounces. Mary Ellen and the baby were immediately rushed to the hospital.
• • • •
“Hysterectomy?” Randall repeated the doctor’s words.
“I’m afraid there was simply too much damage. I’ll be honest with you, it’s still touch and go. We won’t know for a few hours.”
“Are you saying we could lose her?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t lose her,” Randall told William after the doctor left. The two men sat alone in the waiting room. Numbed by the news, William found it difficult to breathe. She can’t die!
“At one time, I don’t think I would’ve really cared. I know that sounds dreadful,” Randall confessed.
“You’re in love with her?” William asked.
“No—but I love her. I’ve never loved a woman before. I loved my sister. Maybe I loved my mother, I don’t know.”
Randall sat slumped in a chair, resting his forehead against his open palm.
“You made me get to know her. I just wanted a wife to give me sons. I really didn’t care about what happened to her afterwards. She wasn’t a real person. But she is. Our son needs his mother. I think she’ll be a wonderful mother. She can’t die, William, she can’t.”
William did something he hadn’t done for years. He closed his eyes and began to pray. They stayed at the hospital for almost four hours, talking very little, each lost in his own private thoughts. Separately they each wandered off to the nursery to admire young Harrison, yet both men could only focus on one person—Mary Ellen.
It was after 3 a.m. when a doctor returned to the waiting room recommending the men go home and get their rest.
“She’s stable, so it is looking better,” the doctor told them.
“But she could still die?” Randall asked.
“She isn’t out of the woods, but it’s looking much better. Please go home, get some rest.”
“Can we see her?” William asked.
“She’s sleeping now. I’d rather you didn’t. She needs her rest.”
Reluctantly the two men left the hospital.
On the drive back to the Coulson estate Randall said, “I was wrong not to let Mary Ellen go to her mother’s funeral.”
“From what I recall, by the time she found out it was too late anyway.”
“No, remember, I knew about it. There was time for her to go. But I made sure she wasn’t told. I said it was because I didn’t want her upset, because of the baby. The truth was, I didn’t want to bother with her family. They weren’t important to me. But they are important to her. I see how she still checks the mail every day, hoping for a letter from her father.”
“I don’t see how you can do anything about that, unless you can convince the man to write her.”
“It was the arrangement we made. I would take care of Mary Ellen, she would have every material thing she needed and he wouldn’t interfere.”
“What are you going to do?” William wasn’t surprised.
“I’ll find some way to make it up to her.”
Randall took a deep breath and thought how much easier it was when he only cared about one person. A part of him almost wished he’d ignored William’s persistent urgings to work on his marriage. Had that been the case, he wouldn’t have such a twisting in his gut worrying about Mary Ellen, and wondering if she wo
uld survive.
• • • •
Restless, Mary Ellen shifted her weight as she lay in the hospital bed. Not quite awake, she wondered why there was so much pain. Then she remembered, my baby.
Her eyelids were so heavy; it was almost impossible to open them, yet she finally managed to. The only illumination in the hospital room came from the shaft of moonlight coming through the window.
“Is my baby all right?” Mary Ellen called out to the silent room.
“Yes sweetheart, he is perfect.”
Mary Ellen tried to focus her eyes on the shadow of a woman that seemed to appear out of nowhere. There was something very familiar about the voice. Mary Ellen felt fingers brush the hair from her eyes.
“Rest now, love, everything is going to be fine.”
“Mama?” Mary Ellen whispered.
“Yes love, I’m here. I’ve always been here.”
“It’s been so long, Mama, why did you go away like that?”
“I’m sorry, love. A mother shouldn’t go away when her children still need her. That’s why you must get better. Your son needs you.”
“I need you, Mama.”
“I know, love, but remember I’m always just beyond the shadows watching over you. Remember that.”
“Ed?”
“Yes dear, Ed is here too.”
Chapter Twenty
“He is such a beautiful baby,” Mrs. Parker cooed over the bassinet. Mary Ellen had been home a week and had insisted she wanted it next to her bed.
“I will allow it if you remember you are not to pick the baby up yet.” Randall had given the stern decree when she first arrived home. He’d purchased a second rocking chair before she’d been released from the hospital and she found it in her room when she came home. Sitting in the new rocking chair, wearing a fluffy robe over her nightgown, she waited for Mrs. Parker to lift Harrison from the crib and hand him to her.
Jane had assumed many of Lily’s responsibilities and had moved into the nursery off Mary Ellen’s room so she could get up with the baby if necessary. She stood beside the rocker and watched Mrs. Parker hand Mary Ellen the wiggly bundle. Moments earlier, she’d combed out Mary Ellen’s hair and tied it back with a bow.
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