Coulson's Wife (The Coulson Series) (7 page)

T
he
maître d’ showed them to their table.  Mary Ellen held
onto William’s left arm. Making their way through the upscale restaurant, she
noted half the tables were empty, yet attributed it to the fact it was a little
early for supper.

 When
they arrived at their table the maître d’ pulled out a chair for Mary Ellen.
After the pair was seated, he handed them each a menu—William’s with prices,
hers without – and informed them their server would be there shortly to take
their beverage order.

The
server proved prompt, and it wasn’t long before beverages were served, food orders
taken and menus removed.

“It’s
been a wonderful afternoon, William. Thank you again,” Mary Ellen said as she removed
her gloves and tucked them into her handbag.

“So I
take it you liked the movie.” He already knew the answer. She’d expressed her delight
at least a dozen times since the show ended. Mary Ellen laughed at his
question.

“I
can’t believe how well it followed the book. Yet I wonder how I would have
liked it had I not read it first.”

“Funny
you should say that, I wondered the same thing.”

“It
makes me want to re-read it.”

“I
often re-read books I love.”

“Well,
it really isn’t an option for me. I don’t have the book. The one I read
belonged to my brother, and I imagine it’s still with my parents.”

“I
have it in my library. I’ll bring it over to you.”

“Thank
you, William, I’d like that.”

“Have
you read Burrough’s other books in the series?”

“No,
the only one my brother had was the first.”

“I
have them all; I’ll bring them to you.” William flashed Mary Ellen one his
friendly smiles, his blue eyes twinkled.

He
always makes me feel so safe
—
comfortable
—
as
though I belong. I feel as if I could share anything with him—tell him any
secret
—
and he would be there for me, never betray a confidence. I
need to remember he is my husband’s best friend, not mine.

 “William
Hunter, well hello!” a female voice intruded. Mary Ellen looked up at the tall
woman approaching their table. William stood just in time to receive a kiss on
his right cheek from the woman.

“Hello,
Clare,” William greeted, glancing around the dining room wondering which table was
Clare’s party.

“Who
is this?” Clare cooed. Mary Ellen couldn’t help but stare at the attractive blonde
woman towering over her. The first thing she noticed was the woman’s short
bobbed hair, which accentuated her large brown eyes. While Mary Ellen’s dress
was new, it looked rather old fashioned compared to the stylish dress worn by
the stranger. Mary Ellen noted the hem was several inches shorter than the
dress she wore. In the woman’s right hand, she held a cigarette holder, which
she waved about as she talked. The cigarette did not appear to be lit.

“Mary
Ellen, I’d like you to meet an old friend, Clare Taylor. Clare, this is Mary
Ellen…Mary Ellen Coulson, Randall’s wife.”

“Really?”
 A calmer, introspect persona replaced exuberant Clare. “My father told me
Randall married, but I just assumed he was trying to make a point.”

Make a
point?
Mary Ellen wondered what that
meant.

“Clare’s
father is a business associate of ours,” William quickly explained.

“True.
And my dear father would have loved to marry me off to your Randall
—
but of
course Randall’s heart was already taken
—
just when did you
meet?” Clare once again resumed her cheerful and exaggerated banter, yet now it
seemed forced.

“I’ve
known Randall for years,” Mary Ellen explained politely. While it was
technically the truth, it was misleading.

“Really?
And where is that scoundrel? I’d love to congratulate the groom.” Clare glanced
around the dining room as if she expected Randall to suddenly appear, which was
highly unlikely considering the pair were sitting at a table for two.

“Randall
is in Chicago on business,” William explained.

“Oh,
and he’s left you in charge of his lovely bride?” Clare flashed a fake smile at
William then reached over and patted Mary Ellen’s hand, noting there was no
wedding ring. “You’re in good hands dear. William Hunter has always been a
perfect gentleman
—
and a loyal friend to dear Randall. Your husband was wise in
his choice.

“But, I
must really run, so nice seeing you both!” Clare gave them a little wave with
her cigarette holder and then hastily made her way across the dining room to
another section of the restaurant.

“That
was strange,” Mary Ellen noted when Clare was no longer in sight.

“How
so?” William thought it was uncomfortable, yet wondered what Mary Ellen was
thinking.

“Well,
for one thing she never gave me an opportunity for a proper greeting
—
such
as
—
hello,
nice to meet you
.”

“I’m
afraid Clare had some other things on her mind.”

“Like
my husband.  Did he court her?”

“How
could you tell?”

“By
her expression – and what she said about her father. I felt rather sorry for
her. How recently did they stop seeing each other?”

William
shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He did not want to answer.

“William?”

“I
believe he stopped seeing her right before he left for Virginia the last time.”

“Oh,
that poor thing,” Mary Ellen glanced in the direction where Clare had fled. By
her expression, it was clear to William, Mary Ellen sincerely felt sorry for
the other woman.

“You
aren’t jealous, are you?” William asked.

“Why?
I’m not in love with Randall. I don’t believe that’s a surprise to you.”

“But
he is your husband.”

“True.
But it’s obvious to me that poor woman had some real feelings for Randall. What
happened? She’s quite lovely. Why would he walk away from someone who was
clearly smitten with him?”

“I’ll
answer that if you’ll answer a question for me.” William knew he should change
the subject, but he couldn’t.

“What?”

“Why
did you marry Randall?”

Mary
Ellen considered the question before answering.

“I’m
not sure
—
it’s a
bit complicated.” Mary Ellen did not add that she regretted the marriage and
had been considering asking Randall for a divorce or annulment when he
returned. She wasn’t sure what would happen to her parents and their new house,
but she didn’t think she could continue with the marriage.

“That
was an unfair question, I apologize.”

“No,
it’s fine. I’ve asked myself the same question. I guess the only thing I can
think of—I don’t recall a time I didn’t do what my father expected of me. When
he told me about the marriage, I initially objected. But…well my mother has not
been doing well, and a new house would really help the family. I suppose I felt
it was inevitable. But then…”

“Then
what?” William’s question was barely a whisper.

“Then…I
see women like Clare. So different from the girls I grew up with. So different
from my mother and aunt’s generation. At the theatre, there were a group of
girls about my age. I don’t know if you noticed them. But they were laughing,
having such a grand time. And I, for some reason, could not imagine them
marrying a man of their father’s choosing—a man they barely knew.”

“I
promise Mary Ellen, it will be better when Randall returns.” He reached across
the table and patted her hand.

It was
then Mary Ellen remembered he thought she was carrying Randall’s child. For a
brief moment, she considered telling him the truth but decided against it.
Instead, she smiled brightly, and forced a cheerful front.
My husband should
be the first to know,
she told herself. 
And then I will seek to end the
marriage
—
if only I knew how a woman went about doing that.

“Yes,
I know, it will get better. I’m just being foolishly emotional. So tell me more
about Clare.” 

“Clare—well,
like I said, her father is a business associate, and we belong to the same
club. I do believe he had high hopes for his daughter marrying Randall. Of
course Randall had other ideas.”

“But
they were seeing each other? What happened?”

“Between
you and me?” William refused to consider how inappropriate it was to share
secrets with his best friend’s wife.

“Of
course.”

“She
cut her hair.”

“No,
you are kidding? That is why he stopped seeing her?”

“Obviously
it was no great love affair. Had it been, I doubt a shaved head would have
fazed him. Clare likes to have a good time. I don’t think Randall wanted a wife
that was so bold.”

“Was
she in love with him, do you think? Or is she merely suffering from injured
pride?”

“
I think perhaps she believes it was love. Of course, Randall
was considered quite the catch.”

“That’s
what I don’t understand,” Mary Ellen contemplated as she looked across the
table, studying William’s face. His features were somehow more masculine than
Randall’s. She guessed he’d recently visited the barber, for his light brown
hair no longer touched his shirt’s collar. Unlike Randall, who wore his hair slicked
back, William’s hair parted naturally on one side, and he did nothing to change
the course of his part.

She
decided his best feature was undoubtedly his expressive blue eyes. Her
husband’s dark brown eyes were somehow ominous, making her fearful when she
looked into them. William’s gaze gave her comfort, hope
—
inspired
her to look deeper.

“You
don’t understand why he was considered a catch?” William frowned.

“Oh
no,” Mary Ellen laughed. “Actually I was thinking of you. I’m surprised someone
like you is spending his evenings
—
Saturday afternoons
—
looking
after your friend’s wife when I would imagine there are lovely young ladies
—
and
their parents
—
who find you quite the catch.”

In the
next moment, the server brought their food. The timely interruption diverted
the flow of the conversation, allowing William to avoid commenting on Mary
Ellen’s personal observation. For the remainder of the meal they discussed the food
and the afternoon’s matinée.

Mary
Ellen silently asked herself why she was always so open with William
—
telling
him things a woman should never tell a man who wasn’t her husband.

Across
the table, William told himself,
I will be a better friend to Randall
.
He silently vowed to stop asking Mary Ellen such intimate questions.

“R
andall, you need to consider coming home. It isn’t right
leaving your new bride so soon. I can finish up for you in Chicago.” It was
Sunday morning, and William was just finishing his first cup of coffee when his
business partner called him on the telephone.

“Has
something happened?”

“We
ran into Clare.”

“Did
the girl cause a scene?”

“You
mean Clare?”

“Well,
I don’t mean Mary Ellen.”

“No,
she didn’t. Although, Mary Ellen picked up on the fact you once dated her. She
actually felt sorry for Clare.”

Randall’s
first response was a short laugh. “So what’s the problem, William? I still
don’t understand. Are you tired of looking after her, is that it?”

Randall
was so off the mark William wanted to howl.
No, you fool, you have no idea
what I want to do with your wife.

“She needs to get out
of that house more
—
interact
with people,” he finally said. “Frankly, I’m surprised no one has extended an
invitation to her
—
for tea
or lunch, something. I would have thought one of the ladies from the
neighborhood would have dropped by.”

“I’m sure they have. I
gave Mrs. Parker expressed instructions to tell anyone that calls that my wife
is currently not receiving. When I return we’ll have a reception and she can
meet people then.”

“Why didn’t you do that
before
your trip to Chicago?”

 “Must I remind
you
how important this merger is? Especially if the war is coming to an end, as
some speculate. There was no time.”

“But why have you
instructed Mrs. Parker to send callers away? Isn’t that going to make your wife
appear unfriendly?”

“Considering my dear
wife is with child, I’m sure the ladies will understand why she chose to remain
in seclusion at this time.”

“I seriously doubt
that, considering I’ve been seen escorting her about town. And I’m certain your
household staff hasn’t kept the fact I continue to dine each night with your
wife during your absence a secret.”

“And why should they, William?
The fact is, I don’t want my wife unduly influenced by the
ladies
of our
neighborhood. When she goes out into society, it will be with me at her side.
For now, she can enjoy the theatre with you, and dinner out or a drive. I’ve
always enjoyed your company, and I’m sure she will too. I’m not worried about
your influence on my bride
—
but
I’m not so sure about some of those women.”

“I don’t know about
that,” William snapped.

“I’ve got to go now. I
plan to be home in about two and a half weeks. Obviously, I can’t force you to
keep my wife amused. If you no longer want to spend time with her, don’t.  Just
let me know and I’ll have Mrs. Parker keep a closer eye on the girl. I want to
make sure she is taking proper care of herself, the baby and all.”

“No Randall, it’s fine.
I’ll keep an eye on her.” When William hung up the telephone’s receiver, he sat
quietly for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. After taking a deep breath,
he stood up and walked from his parlor down the hall way to his personal
library. 

• • • •

That evening, to Mary
Ellen’s delight, William brought her the first six books from Edgar Rice
Burroughs’
Tarzan
series.  Over dinner, they chatted about literature,
and not once did either party mention Randall or the state of Mary Ellen’s
marriage.

Her period ended the
day after the matinée and she no longer felt the need to guard the privacy of
her bedchamber so fiercely. Since none of the household staff knew the real
reason for Mary Ellen’s demand for privacy, they continued to honor her decree.

While she was no longer
concerned with Randall returning home and resuming his nightly visits, since
she’d made up her mind to ask to have the marriage terminated, she decided the
most prudent option was to wait until he came home, and give him the news in
person.

It was mid-July and the
days grew warmer. Each morning Mary Ellen enjoyed a light breakfast on the back
patio, followed by a brisk walk around the grounds. She spent her afternoons in
the estate’s garden. Mrs. Parker instructed a groundskeeper to hang a hammock
under one of the larger shade trees, which became Mary Ellen’s favorite reading
spot.

Each afternoon Lily
brought Mary Ellen lunch in the garden. After the first time, Mrs. Parker
started preparing two lunches—one for Lily and one for Mary Ellen, as the mistress
enjoyed company during her afternoon meal.

• • • •

 “You finished them
all?” William asked on Thursday night, after Mary Ellen told him she’d read all
his
Tarzan
books.

“Yes, and thank you
again.”

“Then I suppose I’ll
have to bring you something more to read.”

“I’d love that.”

“But I have a surprise
for you. Actually, it’s from your husband.”

“Randall?” She couldn’t
imagine what it might be. William reached into his vest pocket, pulled out an
envelope, and handed it to Mary Ellen. She took it, and peeked inside.

“What’s this?” She
removed what appeared to be two tickets from the envelope.

“Theatre tickets. They
arrived today. I’m to take you tomorrow night.”

“Not a picture show?”
Mary Ellen asked as she turned the tickets over in her hand, inspecting each
one.

“No, live theatre. Not
sure how he managed to get these. I heard they were sold out.”

“Oh, how exciting!” She
tucked the tickets back into the envelope and set it on the table.

William thought it felt
good making Mary Ellen happy—seeing her smile so brightly. He then remembered
Randall was responsible for Mary Ellen’s current smile. While a part of him
wanted to be the one to make her happy, he knew it was best this way, because ultimately,
he wanted what was best for Mary Ellen, and that was to have a happy marriage.

It was in that moment William
Hunter realized he was in love with his best friend’s wife.

• • • •

The next day Lily
helped Mary Ellen prepare for the theatre. She dressed her hair and helped her
decide on the best gown for the occasion. When William arrived later that
evening to pick her up, he was momentarily stunned. She carried a
sophistication he hadn’t witnessed before.
She’s a chameleon
, he
thought,
able to adapt and take on new situations with remarkable ease. It
isn’t surprising that Mrs. Hanover
felt Mary Ellen had little need for
her services.

At the theatre, they
ran into a number of people who were mutual friends of William and Randall, and
none seemed surprised at Randall’s elopement or the fact his new wife was being
escorted to the theater by his business partner. Apparently Randall had made
several phone calls, apologizing for not inviting the friends to the hasty
wedding, citing the pressing needs of the war effort, true love that couldn’t
wait, and promised his friends that he and his new bride would be hosting a belated
wedding reception upon his return. All he asked is that they welcome his new
bride, and make her feel at home. Apparently William’s admonishment had not
been ignored.

After the theater William
and Mary Ellen joined several couples for a late supper. It was difficult for
him to believe she was the same timid creature who sat quietly each night
during supper, when Randall was still home. Then she quietly listened as William
discussed business and politics with her husband, who made no effort to include
his wife in the dinner conversation.

With her new theatre
friends she found it easy to join in the discussion, as the many books she’d
read provided interesting conversation fodder. Several at the table found it
amusing that Randall’s new bride was so well read, especially considering it
was common knowledge Randall had little patience for recreational reading.

“You were definitely a
hit, Mary Ellen,” William told her as they drove away from the restaurant.

“Your friends are very
nice.” While Mary Ellen had enjoyed the evening, she wondered if she had made a
mistake by not contacting Randall to tell him that she was not pregnant and
wanted out of the marriage. Being publicly acknowledged as Randall’s wife was
going to make the termination of the marriage more uncomfortable for her
husband. She had no desire to humiliate him, yet she had no idea where she
would go without his support. Mary Ellen still hadn’t worked out those details
in her mind, which was one reason she was in no hurry to tell Randall what she
wanted.

“They seemed quite
taken with you.” Considering her age, William was surprised the other women,
each of whom was about six or seven years her senior, seemed sincerely charmed
by the young bride. “I knew you liked to read, but I had no idea your extensive
reading list. I feel a little ridiculous bringing you the
Tarzan
books,
considering they are really very juvenile.”

“But they’re great
fun!” Mary Ellen laughed. “I’ve always loved books. My Aunt Rachel was a
teacher and was always loaning me one. My oldest brother, Ed, he also loved to
read. We used to spend hours discussing a book we’d both read.” William glanced
over and noted the tears glistening in her blue eyes and recalled Ed was the
brother who was killed in the war.

“I have an idea,” William
impulsively suggested. “We have to drive by my house on the way to yours. Why
don’t we stop by, and you can pick out something from my library. I’m sure you
can find suitable reading material to take back with you.”

“That would be
wonderful! I confess, I was starting to panic, as I didn’t have something to
read at home.”

When William pulled
into his drive fifteen minutes later, Mary Ellen thought she would not describe
his residence as a mere house. While not as large or as ostentatious as the Coulson
Estate, it was a large two-storied residence, far larger than what one man
needed, especially one who ate all his dinners in her parlor.

After parking the motor
car, they were greeted at the front door by William’s butler, who immediately
took Mary Ellen’s hat, gloves and jacket, along with William’s coat and hat.

“We’re not staying
long, Henry,” William explained. “I’m taking Mrs. Coulson in the library so she
can pick out a few books to take home with her.”

“Yes sir, would you
like me to bring you and Mrs. Coulson some tea?”

“That would be nice,
Henry.”

“Yes sir.” The man
nodded and toddled off, carrying the items he’d collected from Mary Ellen and William.

William showed Mary
Ellen into his library, by way of the hallway adjacent to the front entry. When
they entered through the double doors into his favorite room, he couldn’t help
but notice the way her eyes widened as she stood in awe, taking in the sight of
the massive room, its walls lined with oak shelves from ceiling to floor,
filled with an impressive collection of leather bound books.

“Oh my, when you said
home library…I had no idea…” Almost reverently she walked to one wall and
gently ran her fingertips along a row of leather spines. William sat on the
edge of his desk and just watched, fascinated by her reaction to his beloved
library. He smiled and said nothing, allowing her to experience his favorite
room.

They stayed much longer
than he had originally intended, and by the time they were ready to leave, they
had consumed a pot of tea and filled a box with books for Mary Ellen to take
home. He carried the books to his car while she trailed behind him.

“Are you sure I should take
all of them?” she asked sheepishly as he placed the box in the motor car.

“I imagine at the speed
you read, you’ll be returning these books next week and refilling the box with
new ones!”

Mary Ellen grinned as
she climbed into the passenger seat. It had been a wonderful day, and she
couldn’t remember when she had been happier.