Elizabeth Street
A short story
By Paul Delgado
Overview:
A young Marine returns home from the war and finds a beautiful but mysterious woman named Katherine living in his house. Wounded and traumatized, he turns to her for solace but finds there is a much deeper meaning to her friendship.
April 8th, 1918
Danny Cole stepped off the train at Hartford station.
It was spring, but despite the brilliant afternoon sun, winter was unwilling to release its icy grasp.
The train ride from New York was surrealistic as he looked out at the Connecticut countryside. It had been a year since he had departed with his Division for Europe. America had joined the war and he volunteered for the Marines the summer he had graduated high school.
Danny’s legs felt unsteady as he walked to the streetcar beneath the steel truss platform. He was dressed in his doughboy uniform and carried a khaki duffel bag. Stopping for a moment, he looked out at the city. The skyline of the old brick buildings had not changed much since he left. “It was good to be home.” He thought.
Climbing aboard the awaiting car, he approached the conductor and handed him his fare, but was surprised when he was brusquely ignored.
“That’s odd” He thought.
Finding an empty seat, he rode in silence for most of the way along Asylum Avenue amidst the afternoon clutter of cars and trucks.
An elderly gentleman with a bored expression sat next to him reading the newspaper. Danny attempted to strike up a conversation, but the man was uninterested and continued scanning the local headlines.
Reaching his destination, Danny tried again to pay his fare, but the conductor was busy and seemed too preoccupied with other passengers.
“Well…Good afternoon and thank you” he said and stepped off the car into the bright afternoon sun.
“I have been gone a long time” he thought.
“Seems like Connecticut folks are rude as always”.
He felt oddly calm as he looked out at Elizabeth Street, yet at the same time he was panicked that no one seemed to notice him.
“Well, I’m home now” he thought.
The towering maple and birch trees which lined Elizabeth Street were beginning to blossom and a bright red cardinal chirped from atop a branch of a barren tree.
As the Asylum streetcar pulled away, Danny slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and began walking the few blocks to the craftsman style home his father had built in 1915. It was the year before his mother had died from influenza.
Thinking about his parents, he felt saddened remembering the cable he received while overseas informing him of his father’s passing.
“It’s hard to believe Dad is gone too.”
Walking up the street, he recalled the brightly colored tulips his father had planted in the backyard after his mother died.
“These are for your mom Danny and they’ll bloom for her every spring.” He said with sadness in his eyes.
“Now they’re both gone.” He thought.
“I loved them so much…but I will see them again someday” He thought remembering their gentle smiles.
As Danny approached the house…He was filled with a sense of anticipation.
Slowly climbing the wooden stairs onto the front porch, he heard the scratchy sound of an old waltz playing on the phonograph.
He knocked quietly on the door expecting Eliza their housekeeper when instead a beautiful young woman appeared.
Danny was taken aback.
“Who are you?”
“I am Katherine…Please come in…You must be Danny”.
Entering the living room, he saw his mother’s favorite vase filled with roses.
A cut glass chandelier was dimly lit and an antique Persian rug was warmly familiar to him.
The sound of a tea kettle whistled in the kitchen.
Katherine looked back and said “Tea is on...Would you like a cup.”
“Yes, thank you.” replied Danny as he followed her down the hallway.
Pouring the tea, she said “I assume you’ll want your old room back.”
“Who are you…Why are you here? he asked.
“I rented a room from your father last year and he me asked to care for the house when he became ill.”
“He told me to wait for you until you were safely home.”
Danny glanced out at the garden from the French doors and said, “The tulips will be blooming soon”.
“Yes, they will” she replied.
A moment later looking up he noticed Katherine was not there.
“Katherine?” he called.
Hearing no answer, he assumed she went upstairs and decided to take a walk in the small park across the street.
Breathing in the cold spring air he stepped onto the stone walkway. The setting sun had set the park aglow in shades of orange and purple as he walked along the frosted ground.
Seeing a group of young soldiers dressed in their uniforms, he animatedly waved but they just smiled and moved along the gravel path toward the pond in the park.
He suddenly felt very alone.
Returning home…He found Katherine in the kitchen.
“How was your walk?”
“I’m not sure”
Why? She asked.
“No one seems to notice me.”
“You’ve just returned home and are adjusting.”
She replied calmingly as she smoothed her cotton apron.
Looking out at the tulips that would soon be in bloom, he tried the French doors, but they were locked.
“Katherine…Do you have the key?”
“No, don’t you…It’s your house….isn’t it?” she replied softly.
“What do you mean?” he asked as he looked out again at the garden.
But when he looked back she was gone and he sullenly stared at his untouched cup of tea.
“What did she mean “I have the key.”
“How could I possibly have the key to the garden?”
The next day he awoke from a troubled sleep and heard the teapot whistling, but there was no sign of her.
Putting on his coat, he decided he would take a walk downtown.
It was a beautiful morning and the sky was deep blue. Calling out, he shouted, “Katherine….Not sure if you’re upstairs, but I’m going out for awhile.”
Feeling buoyant, Danny walked down Elizabeth street toward the streetcar stop on Asylum Ave. As he reached Girard street, he felt compelled to turn right and then right again on Fern and then again on Kenyon until he found himself back on Elizabeth Street in front of his house.
“Why did I do that” he thought.
For a minute, a familiar fog enveloped him and thought it best to set out again tomorrow.
Back in the house, the fireplace was lit. Danny called out for Katherine as he sat down on the worn armchair in the parlor…But there was no answer.
The photographs on the wall and a leather football displayed on a desk in the corner reminded of his high school days. And a picture of himself when he joined the Marines reminded him of when he was eighteen and young.
Glancing at his reflection in the parlor mirror he saw his disfigured face and it filled him with sadness as he remembered that horrific day in Belleau and sat back in his chair fell into a fitful dream.
0400 Belleau Woods, France, 1918
Gripping his Springfield rifle tightly, Danny took shallow breaths under his gas mask as he advanced across a muddy field toward the German lines dug in along the tree line a hundred yards away. The air was filled with acrid smoke and the only sound in the early dawn was the rustle of burned stalks of rye as he moved across the blackened battlefield.
Suddenly, the staccato of machine gun fire and exploding artillery shells filled the air. Hearing the cries of wounded men choking in mustard gas and seeing the limbs of his platoon cruelly ripped apart by pitiless shrapnel, he ran forward toward the enemy line.
As he charged a gun emplacement, he saw his platoon leader, Lt. Wilson, lying in a muddy crater with his right leg nearly severed.
Bending over the Lieutenant who screamed in agony, he took off his cartridge belt and fashioned a crude tourniquet.
“I’ll carry you back Sir.”
“You’re going to make it…I promise.”
As he lifted Lt. Wilson onto his shoulder, he was knocked down by an explosion and hot shrapnel seared his face.
He reached for the Lieutenant who lay a few feet away when another shell exploded.
Looking at Lt. Wilson’s lifeless eyes he said… “I’m sorry sir…I’m so sorry.”
Another shell exploded and Danny ran across the muddy field under withering fire. As he reached the enemy’s entrenched position and began to crawl up the earthen embankment when he felt a bullet rip into his neck.
Startled he awoke from the nightmare and looked at the clock on the wall. It was 4AM. Seems its always 4AM…he thought.
Danny rose from his chair and as he walked down the hallway to the kitchen, he saw that the basement door was left ajar. Venturing down the narrow wooden steps into the concrete floored room, he saw dusty wooden boxes and old furniture covered in white sheets.
He noticed one small box marked correspondence and carried it upstairs to the parlor. Sitting down he opened it and found letters he had written to his father from the front.
The memory of losing his parents was just too painful and decided to read them another day. But as he began to close the lid, he noticed an official Western Union envelope addressed to his father and opened it.
Western Union
Received at Hartford CT
15G R30 Govt
WA Washington DC 5:32 PM April 10, 1918
Mr. Wilfred Cole
Hartford, Connecticut
Deeply regret to inform you that Pvt. Daniel Cole, Infantry, 5th Marines, is officially reported as killed in action on April 8,, 1918 in the Belleau region of France.
Please accept our deepest sympathy.
Harris, Adjutant General
Danny held the telegram in his shaking hands and looking up saw Katherine standing at the top of the staircase.
“I see you’ve found the key.” She said softly. She was dressed in the most beautiful white lace dress he had ever seen and there was a beautiful glow about her.
Shaken, he climbed back up the stairs and took her outstretched hand.
Leading him to the French doors that overlooked the garden, Danny saw his mother and father standing among brightly colored tulips.
Effortlessly pushing open the doors, he bounded down the stairs and ran into their warm embrace.
“You’re home Danny”
And she quietly closed the French doors.
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