Coulson's Crucible Read online

  “I didn’t,” he said.

  “But I did wonder where you disappeared to for a while. That was until I saw you coming from the hallway leading to the offices. I wondered what I was missing, seemed like an active place. First Garret drags that waitress there, then he returns and you take his place. Sharing women with your son now, Harrison? Seems a bit tawdry.”

  “Your relationship with Garret seems to have improved recently. Might I suggest you not say this to him, or you’ll be back to where you two were when he was in high school.”

  “Oh, I’m not really concerned about my relationship with our son. Your relationship with him is another matter.”

  “Don’t worry, dear, I’m not sharing anything with Garret. I’ve never been one to share my toys, especially with my son.” Harrison continued to look out the window and did not turn to his wife.

  “I’m going to church with Randall and Russell.” Vera turned and left the room.

  What is wrong with me? Harrison asked himself. His behavior with Monica the day before was inexcusable. He had always prided himself with treating women with respect—even those who were casual bed partners. For some reason, Monica got under his skin, with her child-like blue eyes and constantly professing her undying love for him.

  Glancing briefly at the doorway his wife had just exited, it suddenly dawned on him. Monica reminds me of Vera! Not the Vera now, but the Vera he met when he was still a green boy—a virgin.

  * * *

  Chicago 1936

  Harrison didn’t understand why all the men in the room weren’t staring at her. He couldn’t take his eyes off the beautiful young woman in the green dress. The manner in which she tilted her head back as she laughed gaily, obviously amused by something the gentleman at her side was telling her, was utterly charming. Harrison would gladly trade his annual allowance to switch places with the man.

  “Dad, who’s that?” Harrison asked, nodding to the girl in the green dress. It was crowded at the reception, so Randall wasn’t sure what girl his son was referring too.

  “The pretty redhead,” Harrison whispered.

  “Oh, that’s Vera Chalmers. Her father’s a business associate of mine.” Randall smiled, noting his son’s interest. “I wouldn’t mind you pursuing that one, Harrison. Good family. Excellent connections. She’s a bit older than you, but you’re a mature lad.”

  “Oh, she would never be interested in someone like me.” Harrison was just seventeen.

  “Come, I’ll introduce you.”

  An hour later, Harrison found himself alone in the garden with the lovely Miss Vera Chalmers. Muted sounds of laugher, conversation, and music drifted out from the open window.

  “I was hoping they would introduce us,” Vera said shyly, looking downward as they strolled along the garden path. Overhead, the full moon lit their way.

  “You were?” Harrison could feel his palms sweat, he was so nervous. She noticed me!

  “Oh yes. I’ve seen you before at the theatre, with your parents.” Vera flashed a coy smile. Harrison couldn’t believe he had never noticed her before. Stammering, he didn’t know what to say.

  “My father tells me your mother has a most impressive library,” Vera said. No longer walking, the two stood side by side under the moonlight.

  “You like to read?”

  “Some books I find fascinating,” Vera whispered.

  “It seems my mother is always reading a book. I prefer doing something, rather than sitting with a book.” He paused a moment. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply there was anything wrong if you like to read.”

  “I understand. I used to find books very boring. But then a friend…well he gave me books to read. I think you’d like them. I wonder…perhaps your mother has books like them in her library.”

  “I suppose. Mother has hundreds of books. The library used to belong to my Uncle William.”

  “Your mother’s brother?” Vera asked.

  “No, he wasn’t a real uncle. He was Dad’s business partner. When he died, he left Mother his library.

  “Oh, I would love to see it.”

  “Well, my parents are leaving for New York in the morning. Perhaps when they return, I can arrange it.”

  “How long are they going to be gone?” Vera asked.

  “Two weeks, I believe,” Harrison said.

  “Oh… that’s too bad. I wish I could see it sooner,” Vera said with a pout.

  Harrison did not want to wait two weeks to see the lovely Miss Vera. “I suppose I could show you. What day would be good for you?”

  “Oh, thank you!” Vera said excitedly. “I could come over Wednesday afternoon.”

  “Okay, Wednesday it is.”

  “I have something I would like to send you, a book. Perhaps you could read it before Wednesday, and let me know what you think about it.”

  “A book?” Harrison wasn’t thrill about having to read a book, but he wanted to see Vera again.

  “I have a feeling you may like it. But you must keep it a secret. And don’t let anyone see it. It might get us in trouble.”

  “Why?” Harrison said.

  “Oh, some people just don’t understand.” Vera shrugged. “But I hope you will.”

  On Monday morning, a package was delivered to Harrison’s home. He took it and raced upstairs to see what Vera had sent him. Perhaps she included a note, he wondered, more excited about that possibility than having to read a boring book. But there was no note. He read the book’s title, The Life and Adventures of Miss Fanny Hill. Opening it, Harrison began to read.

  It was nothing like he expected—nothing like he had ever read before. Written in first person, it told the sexual exploits of young Frances Hill. Orphaned, she finds herself in London where a Madame attempts to profit on the young girl’s virginity. Frances, or Fanny as she is called, is saved from giving her virginity to a repugnant older man and instead gives it to Charles, who is the love of her life.

  Harrison was unable to put the book down. Finding it hard to believe Vera had actually read the explicit story, he wondered if somehow she had sent the wrong book. After he finished reading, he hid it in his room, not wanting one of the household staff to find it. That evening, he brought it out again to reread the passages he found most titillating.

  “So you read the book?” Vera asked Wednesday afternoon as Harrison showed her up the stairway to the library. They were alone in the townhouse.

  “Yes. Who gave it to you?” Harrison asked.

  “A friend,” Vera said.

  “What friend?” Harrison wondered who had given her such a book.

  “It doesn’t matter, he died several months ago.”

  They entered the library.

  “Have you shared that book with anyone else?”

  “Oh no!” Vera gasped, as if she found the suggestion horrifying. “You’re the first one I’ve ever shared the book with. I thought you would understand. I saw how you looked at me.”

  Harrison’s gaze fixed on Vera; she was even more beautiful than he remembered. He had never met a girl like her before.

  “Didn’t you like the story?” Vera whispered, sounding unsure.

  “Well, yes. I…I suppose it was difficult not to like it. But…well….I understand why we need to keep it a secret.”

  “Sometimes,” Vera whispered. “I pretend I’m Fanny.”

  “You do?” His erection pushed out the front of his trousers.

  “We could play a game…perhaps pretend I’m Fanny and you’re Charles. Would you like that?” Vera reached out and gently touched the front of his trousers, feeling his hardness. Harrison froze. No girl had ever touched him there.

  That afternoon, on the floor of his mother’s library, Harrison lost his virginity. So intoxicated by the sensual world Vera opened for him, he didn’t ask who had taught her such erotic games. While his parents were in New York, they found time each day to sneak away to the library.

  By the time his parents returned from New York, Harr
ison and Vera were publically seeing each other—yet her parents assumed the young man was courting their daughter and never imagined the two took every opportunity to re-enact the sexual exploits of Fanny Hill.

  Only Mary Ellen, Harrison’s mother, was uncomfortable with the courtship, believing Vera had set a trap for her young son. Mary Ellen broached the subject with Harrison, who told her not to worry; he intended to stay a bachelor like his Uncle William.

  By that time, Harrison’s boyish crush had faded. No longer did he see Vera as a girl he would court—or ever marry—but he could not resist the sexual favors she freely and frequently offered. In his naiveté or lustful blindness, he believed she was doing something to prevent pregnancy.

  His newly discovered sexual prowess gave him a sense of power and confidence. While his friends only fantasized of such sexual games or paid women for the privilege, lovely Vera had turned her body over to him—submitted to his will—encouraged him to use her in any way he desired. For a seventeen-year-old boy, he could not imagine anything better.

  The price for his pleasure was paid on his wedding day. There was no way his father would allow him to shirk his duty. Vera came from one of the finest families in Chicago, and she was carrying his child. Through it all, she professed her love for Harrison.

  Chapter 26

  Harrison set his empty coffee cup on the table. Turning from the window, he made his way upstairs to his bedroom. He needed to get dressed so he could see Monica.

  An hour later, he stood before her apartment. Since he was paying her rent, he didn’t hesitate to use his key to open the door. But it would be his last time, he told himself. Before leaving the estate, he had called, to let her know he was on his way over.

  “Harrison!” Monica excitedly greeted him. She wore a transparent floor length robe; it clearly revealed the outline of her body. Putting his hand out, he blocked her from coming closer. She frowned at his snub and stepped back.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked with a pout.

  Harrison stared at her for a moment. He wasn’t certain when he realized the truth about his wife, perhaps when she was pregnant with Russell or before. It was easier to blame her for the socially unacceptable behavior—promiscuity a man can’t resist but is ready to scorn. While he never knew the details, he was certain the man who had given her the book had also taken her virginity—seduced her—or even raped her. He had never asked. But now, with the benefit of years and maturity, he understood her far better than he had during the first years of their marriage.

  He saw Vera in Monica—and he was the man with the book. Perhaps he had not initially seduced her—he was not her first—but he was twice her age, and he told himself it had to stop.

  “Monica, you’re a beautiful young woman, but I’m wrong for you. I don’t love you, and you need to be with someone who cares about you.”

  “No!” Monica cried out, throwing herself at his feet. Harrison stood stoically, looking down at the sobbing young woman.

  “I’ll pay your rent for the next six months; put a little something in your bank account. But it’s over.”

  “No!” She clung desperately to his legs. Looking up at him, tears streamed down her face. “I promise, whatever you want I’ll do. Just tell me what I did wrong. Was it the fact I talked to your son? I won’t ever do that again!”

  He leaned down and gently, yet firmly, untangled her hold and stepped back.

  “Don’t leave me, Harrison. I love you!”

  “You don’t love me, Monica. You don’t even know me. You don’t need to be with someone who treats you like I do. And I don’t need to be the man I am when I’m with you.”

  Harrison turned and walked to the door. He paused a moment before leaving and set his key to her apartment on a table.

  Monica refused to get dressed on Sunday and spent the rest of the afternoon alone in her apartment. She had no friends in Coulson, having moved to the town a month before meeting Harrison. There was no one she could call.

  Watching television and eating ice cream from her bed, she cursed the day she had ever met Harrison Coulson. She loved the bastard, but he had dumped her, and she had no idea why. The tears had finally stopped but her eyes were still puffy. Eventually, she fell asleep, not waking up until Monday afternoon.

  Having nowhere to go, Monica spent most of Monday in her apartment. By nightfall, her anger over the breakup renewed and she cursed herself. Pissed, she decided to go drown her sorrows. Since there was no booze in her house and she didn’t want to drink alone, she decided to go to a bar. There was no way she would go to the Roseville; Harrison liked to hang out there. With her luck, she would run into him and his wife.

  She remembered seeing a new bar in town—the Tavern, located in the center of town. It was close to her apartment, which would allow her to walk home, should she have too much to drink. Determined to put the bad love affair behind her, she picked out her sexiest dress and slipped it on.

  Garret downed his scotch and ordered another. He liked this new bar. One advantage, he doubted the Tavern would suit his father’s tastes. He wished he didn’t like his job at Coulson Enterprises so much; it would make it easier to tell the old man to shove it and find something else. The only problem, unlike his older brother, he really did like his hometown. Professional opportunities were scarce in Coulson. It was either work for Coulson Enterprises or move to a larger city.

  He glanced up when the front door opened and someone walked in. He could tell it was a woman, but the dimly lit lighting made it difficult to see her face. Turning back to the bartender who had just brought him his second drink, he didn’t notice the woman was walking toward him. It wasn’t until she sat next to him and he turned in her direction did he see who it was. It was his father’s mistress.

  She seemed oblivious as to who was sitting next to her when she ordered a martini. Smiling, she turned in his direction. The smile quickly faded.

  “You!” she accused. “I can’t believe it!”

  “Are you meeting my father here? Just tell me and I’ll leave.”

  “No, I’m not meeting your asshole father here!” She stood up and looked at the bartender. “I’m going over to that booth, please bring my drink there.” Without saying another word to Garret, she grabbed her purse and stormed off to the dimly lit booth in the far corner of the bar. Curious, he turned in his barstool and looked over at Monica.

  “What did she say?” the bartender asked, holding the martini he had just prepared.

  “Here,” Garret said as he took the drink. “I’ll take it to her. Just put it on my tab.” With his other hand, he picked up his scotch and strolled across the room to the booth.

  Monica glared at Garret as he set the martini on the table before her.

  “Thank you,” she snapped, not sounding as if she meant it. Garret sat down at the booth with her.

  “I didn’t ask you to join me.” She scooted over, away from Garret. He settled in and took a sip of his scotch.

  “So what happened with you and the old man?”

  “You’ll be happy to know your father dumped me yesterday.” She took a gulp of the martini.

  “No kidding. How come? Did he find a replacement?”

  “Oh, shut up.” She took another gulp.

  “Well, you’re better off. He’s too old for you.”

  “How do you know what’s good for me?” This time she sipped the martini.

  Eyeing him suspiciously she said, “Hey, did you say something to him?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “About me. What we talked about Saturday night.”

  “No. I told you I wouldn’t.”

  “Well you must have said something,” she insisted.

  “He saw me go with you into the hallway. Later he asked me what happened. I told him I tried hitting on you, and you turned me down. That was all. I didn’t let him know I knew about you two.”

  “Strange.” Monica finished her martini. “When he came into the hall afte
r you, he acted all jealous. Wanted to know what I’d done with you. He got all pissed. I sorta figured that meant he really cared.”

  “It was probably because it was me,” Garret suggested, finishing the rest of his drink. He motioned to the bartender to bring them another round.

  “He definitely did not like the idea of me and you.”

  “See, you should’ve taken me up on my offer.” He chuckled.

  “You mean when you asked me to come home with you?”

  Garret nodded.

  “Yeah, but you didn’t mean it.”

  “You’d be amazed at what I do to piss off my father.”

  The drinks arrived. They discussed ways to piss off Harrison. More drinks arrived. They laughed about pissing off Harrison and ways it might be accomplished. More drinks arrived.

  How Garret actually managed to contact Randall’s pilot and convince the man to fly Monica and himself to Las Vegas, was unclear. He would remember there was a lot of giggling and laughter. He imagined it had to do with money, considering his wallet was empty by the time they had returned from Vegas the next morning.

  Instead of going back to his or Monica’s apartment, the newlyweds made their drunken way to Coulson House. Monica could not fully appreciate her first visit to the mansion, considering all the booze she had consumed.

  They found the pair in the morning, sleeping on the living room sofa, the stench of stale cigarettes, gin, and scotch fouling the air. On the coffee table next to the sofa, in plain sight, for all to see, was their wedding license.

  Still a little drunk when roused from his slumber, Garret rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand; the room was spinning. Standing over him was his mother, father, and grandfather. Someone was sleeping on his legs. He looked down, trying to bring into focus the blond head sharing the couch with him.

  Garret moved his legs, causing Monica to wake up. Through bleary blood shot blue eyes, she looked at the people standing over her. Clearly horrified, she latched onto Garret’s arm, desperately wanting him to shield her.