“William, didn’t you hear me?” She entered the kitchen. He didn’t respond, but continued to look out the window.
“William, are you all right?” Concerned, she walked to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. He shrugged off her touch then turned to face her.
“What’s wrong?” She’d never seen him wear such an angry expression.
“I got around to looking through those boxes from the attic.”
“William, what is wrong? You’re scaring me.”
“I found one of me. According to the date, it was taken in 1903. I was about Harrison’s age at the time. It’s been staring me in the face all these years, I just refused to see.” He shoved what he had been holding at her. It was the mentioned photograph.
Nervously she took it from him. The boy in the picture could have been Harrison. The likeness was uncanny.
“He’s mine, isn’t he?” The level of rage in his voice frightened her.
She closed her eyes briefly to hold back the tears. Feeling physically ill, she was unable to contain the tremors of her shaking hands. Unable to speak, she nodded the affirmative.
William took a deep breath, attempting to control his anger.
“I don’t understand. How is this possible? I thought you were pregnant with Randall’s baby.”
Opening her eyes, she looked at William. Wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand she was determined to answer his questions. He deserves the truth, she thought.
“I was never pregnant. Randall assumed I was because my period was late. I never told him I was pregnant. I started my period the day he left for Chicago.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because if I did, I was afraid he’d come home when my period was over and try to get me pregnant again. I couldn’t bear being with him that way. And when you and I… I never thought for a moment that it was a possibility because it had been every night with Randall and just that one night with you. I planned to ask Randall for a divorce when he returned home.”
“But you couldn’t…”
“No, by that time I knew I was pregnant. I had nowhere to go. My mother had just died and I assumed my father would be furious with me, so I couldn’t go back to Virginia.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were gone, William. When I woke up that morning, you were gone. It was weeks before I saw you again. By that time Randall had changed so much toward me, I felt staying with him was the only option.”
William closed his eyes for a moment and collected his thoughts. When he first realized Harrison was his, he was furious with Mary Ellen for keeping the secret from him. But now after hearing what she had to say, he remembered how young she had been, just eighteen. Guilt washed over him when he considered how she must have felt when he left for Chicago, never saying goodbye. Had he not allowed himself to be pressured by Randall to leave so soon for Chicago, Mary Ellen might have been brave enough to tell him the truth and the two of them could have found a solution so she could leave Randall and marry him.
He realized then that succumbing to Randall’s pressure to leave immediately for Chicago was simply his way of taking the easy way out. Assuming he had no real future with Mary Ellen, it was easier to run away, and Randall gave him that opportunity. Had I been man enough to stand up for the woman I loved back then, she would be my wife, not my mistress.
When he opened his eyes, he looked into the face of the woman he loved. Tears streamed down her cheeks and once again, guilt consumed him. Gathering her up in his arms he held her tightly.
“I’m sorry Mary Ellen, it was just a shock.”
She began to sob in earnest, clinging to him as he held her. Silently tears slid down William’s face, unseen by the woman he loved. Gently, he turned her in his arms and led her upstairs to his bedroom, where he silently removed her clothes—and then his—before making love to the mother of his child.
• • • •
“Do you think Randall knows?” The two lovers lay under the sheets in William’s bed.
Mary Ellen considered William’s question for a moment.
“I don’t think so. But now that I’ve seen the photograph—he knew you at that age. Wouldn’t he see the resemblance? Harrison looks exactly like you.”
“People see what they want to see. I never saw it. When I looked into Harrison’s blue eyes, I saw yours.”
“What now, William?”
“Nothing’s really changed. While I’d love to claim Harrison as mine, that would only appease my ego. Harrison looks up to Randall as his father and loves him. And Randall loves Harrison. I don’t think we have the right to destroy that. It would just confuse our son.”
“If Randall has figured it out on some level, I think he would prefer to deny the possibility.”
“Well one thing for sure, those old photographs of mine get burned.”
“No, please don’t do that!”
“Fine. But back in the box and returned to the attic.”
“I better get going. Harrison and Randall should be home soon. Don’t forget dinner tonight.”
“Are the Andersons still coming?” Randall gave Mary Ellen a final kiss before they moved from the bed to get dressed.
“Yes. But don’t worry; he isn’t bringing his cousin Lucille. I told him you weren’t quite ready to get back in the game—Melinda and all.”
William chuckled and swatted her behind as she moved away from the bed. “What time?”
“I told them four.”
“See you then.”
• • • •
“Where is William?” Randall sounded irritated. He checked this watch. It was a quarter past four. He and Mary Ellen sat in the parlor with the Andersons having a cocktail before dinner.
“I’m sure he’ll be here any minute. He’s usually prompt,” Mary Ellen said. While dinner wasn’t scheduled to be served for another forty-five minutes, Randall was obsessive about punctuality.
“Do you think he remembers?” Randall asked.
“I’m sure he does,” Mary Ellen assured him.
“Mom, you want me to go get Uncle William?” Harrison asked from the doorway. He’d obviously heard them discussing the tardy dinner guest.
“Sure, that would be fine.” Mary Ellen watched her son dash from the house.
“We could have just called him.” Randall grumbled. Impatient, he picked up the phone a few minutes later and started to dial.
“Remind me dear, never to be late for one of Randall’s dinner parties,” Mrs. Anderson told her husband. They all laughed.
As Randall let the phone ring, his wife and guests continued to chat.
“Harrison, why are you answering William’s phone?” Randall said into the phone a few moments later. “What?”
Mary Ellen and the Anderson’s stopped talking and listened.
“I’ll be right there.” He hung up the phone. “It’s William, Harrison found him passed out in his kitchen.”
• • • •
Distraught with worry, Mary Ellen waited with her husband in the hallway outside the downstairs guest bedroom at William’s townhouse. The Andersons had gone home and dinner was cancelled. Harrison refused to go home, and waited in William’s kitchen to see what the doctor had to say.
Finally, William’s doctor exited the bedroom and gently closed the door behind him.
“He’s resting. I really don’t want to move him right now, so I’ll arrange to have a nurse stay with him.”
“Shouldn’t he go to the hospital?” Mary Ellen asked.
“Let’s go talk in the library,” the doctor suggested. Randall and Mary Ellen followed the doctor into the other room.
“I’m afraid there really is not much I can do for him, at this point.”
“What are you talking about?” Randall seemed as concerned as Mary Ellen.
“It’s his heart.”
“William is too young!” Mary Ellen insisted.
“We’ve kn
own for some time there was a problem. In all probability his bout with the influenza did its damage.”
“He never said anything,” Mary Ellen whispered. Tears filled her eyes. Randall wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him. They both looked at the doctor in disbelief.
“He didn’t want to worry either of you. But he told me if—when this time came—I was to tell you whatever you needed to know. He considered you both his family. He doesn’t want to go to the hospital. He wants to stay in his home.”
“How long?” Randall asked.
“Maybe a few months, or less.”
Mary Ellen could no longer contain her sorrow. Randall took her in his arms and held her as she wept, while silent tears slid down his own face. The doctor mumbled something about going to call for a nurse and left the couple alone in their grief.
“I love him so much,” she sobbed, unable to conceal her true emotions.
“Yes I know, we both do,” Randall continued to hold her, his hand stroking her hair. He let her cry and then took hold of her shoulders and held them tightly, as he looked her in the eyes.
“Mary Ellen, we both need to pull ourselves together. We can mourn later, but right now William needs us. And our son is in the kitchen. I need to go explain things to him. He adores William.”
Mary Ellen nodded and wiped the tears from her face.
Chapter Twenty-Six
She heard the door open, yet did not turn to see who had entered the room. Her attention was on William who continued to sleep. A hand lightly touched her right shoulder and she looked up to see her husband standing over her.
“He’s still sleeping,” Mary Ellen explained.
“The doctor said he would sleep for a while, considering the medication he gave him,” Randall whispered. “Come out in the kitchen, I brought over some food—the dinner we never got around to eating. You need to eat something.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t want you to get sick. Go eat, you need your strength. I’ll sit with him, then you can come back after you eat something.”
Seeing the determination on her husband’s face she knew it was best not to argue. Giving him a weak smile she stood, kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for the thoughtful gesture. After she left the room, Randall sat in the chair Mary Ellen had been sitting in a moment before, and looked down at his old friend.
He reached out and brushed his fingertips across William’s forehead.
“Seems I was here before—when you had influenza. We almost lost you then. I felt so relieved when you beat it. But has it returned in its own way, to claim you? Why didn’t you tell us about your heart?” Taking back his hand, he continued to watch the sleeping man.
William shifted his body slightly and let out a little groaning sound. He licked his lips, as if thirsty then cried out, “Mary Ellen!” The sound of his own voice woke him. William opened his eyes and found Randall sitting by the bed.
Randall immediately picked up the glass of water sitting on the nightstand and offered some to William. Leaning down, Randall propped up William’s head a bit, making it easier for the sick man to accept the water. When he drank his fill, Randall returned the glass to the nightstand.
“Thank you,” William said in a hoarse whisper. He licked his lips again and glanced around the room as if looking for something.
“She’s in the kitchen having a bite to eat. I imagine she’ll be back in just a few minutes.”
“How long have you known?” William asked.
“That you love her? I can’t recall when I haven’t known.”
“Take care of her, Randall. Please.”
“I’ve always felt somewhat guilty keeping her—knowing you love her—that she loves you. But she gave me the son I always wanted, and I was afraid I might lose him if…if I did the right thing and let her go.”
William said nothing to him about Harrison being his son. He didn’t see the point, not now.
“Had I thought you were in love with her…” William began, yet Randall stopped him.
“It’s fine, William. If there is any guilt, it’s mine.”
Randall didn’t explain what he meant, and William didn’t ask. She gave me more than a son, Randall thought. With Mary Ellen as his wife, a son to his credit—the world viewed him as a respected member of society. The façade allowed him to lead a private life that afforded him some happiness, and a bit of solace after accepting the fact that the man he loved was incapable of loving him in the way he needed—in the same way Randall was unable to love his wife.
“Is he awake?” Mary Ellen asked from the doorway.
Randall stood up, touched William’s shoulder briefly then walked to the door, leaving Mary Ellen alone with the ill man.
Rushing to her lover’s bedside, she fell to her knees on the floor and leaned over the mattress. William looked at Mary Ellen and reached out, his fingertips touching her face.
“Why didn’t you say anything about your heart?” she asked.
“I kept telling myself it wasn’t that serious and I didn’t want to worry you.”
“It’s why you’ve been so tired lately.”
“Yes.”
“You’re too young William. You can fight this. I’m sure there’s something they can do!” She refused to believe his illness was as grave as the doctor painted.
“I love you Mary Ellen. I’m sorry I got so mad when I found that photograph.”
“I should have told you.”
“Maybe it really is best this way…everything has its own time.”
She didn’t understand what he meant. Resting her head on the mattress, she wept.
The nurse promised by the physician never arrived. After a long conversation with the doctor, Randall convinced him that he and Mary Ellen could care for William. In truth, Randall wanted privacy for William’s final days. Mary Ellen stayed at her lover’s bedside, getting little sleep. They never moved William into his bedchamber upstairs; keeping him instead in the downstairs bedroom where they’d initially taken him after Harrison discovered his unconscious body.
William Hunter passed away on the Wednesday following his initial collapse. Mary Ellen and Randall were both by his side. His funeral was widely attended. The pretty Miss Melinda Miller, who’d recently broken off with William, was quite dramatic in her mourning, portraying herself as the girlfriend of the deceased, instead of the young woman who’d recently ended their brief relationship.
“We were planning to marry,” Melinda sobbed to a small group of attentive mourners at the wake following the services.
“I thought you’d broken it off with him?” one of her closer friends asked.
“Oh, you know dear William—never able to make a commitment. I only broke it off so he would make a decision one way or another. A girl can’t wait indefinitely. And he did!” She sobbed dramatically. “He begged me to come back to him—he wanted to marry me! I was to be William Hunter’s fiancée—his wife!”
“Are you all right?” Randall asked Mary Ellen after they overheard Melinda’s dramatic display.
Mary Ellen glanced across the room at Melinda. “I suppose in some ways, it stifles any gossip. One never knows what the housekeeping staff sees or repeats. Although, the respect I once had for the girl is sorely diminished, considering she’s using William’s death to garner attention for herself.”
Randall leaned over and kissed Mary Ellen on the cheek. The gesture surprised her, for it was something he rarely did.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“You’re my best friend,” Randall told her. “I love you.”
• • • •
“Do you want a divorce?” Randall asked his wife. It was a week after William’s funeral and they were finishing their breakfast in the dining room, before going to see the attorney about William’s will.
“Divorce? Why would you ask that?” Mary Ellen was clearly surprised.
“It just dawned on me that while ou
r marriage suits me perfectly, you’re a vibrant woman. Maybe not right away, but eventually you will want—and need—another man in your life. One that will give you what I can’t.”
“You were also in love with him.” She didn’t sound judgmental—her tone empathetic. Randall’s eyes met hers.
“Yes, for as long as I can remember.”
“I’m sorry, Randall. Did he know?”
“If he did, he never said anything.” He was silent for a moment; then he spoke. “You saw me that night. The night I found the glass.”
“Yes.”
Mary Ellen reached over and patted his hand.
“Randall, you are not getting rid of me that easily. William’s death has been hard on our son. I don’t want him to deal with his parents’ divorce. And the idea of another man…no. If that time comes, then we can discuss it then.”
Randall smiled at his wife and then poured himself another cup of coffee.
“Life is funny, Randall. When we were first married, I never imagined I would feel about you as I do today.”
“And how is that?”
“A dear friend. I used to find you quite frightening.”
“Back then William said I was an ass.”
“You were dear, you were.”
• • • •
“Please just cut to the bottom line, Bill,” Randall told the attorney when the man began reading the will. Bill Taylor had been Randall and William’s attorney and friend for over a dozen years. Randall and Mary Ellen sat together in Taylor’s office.
“Of course,” Taylor said as he shuffled the papers in his hands before setting them on his desk. “His share of Coulson-Harrison Enterprises goes to you, Randall. He leaves his house, any personal property—expressly his library—to Mary Ellen. He wanted me to make sure and include the library, because a portion of it’s in storage, and he didn’t want it to be forgotten or auctioned off by the storage company if left unclaimed. It was important to him for Mary Ellen to have it.”
“I suppose this means I’ll need to build a larger home, with a library room to house all his damn books.” Randall chuckled.
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