The next Sunday turned out to be a sunny, breezy day. Della prepared for its evening with no little forethought and anticipation. She carefully applied her makeup and made sure it was perfect. She ironed her dress until it did not have one single solitary crease. She had waited for years for an opportunity to go on a date with Perry, and now that it was here, she was not going to let it slip by without trying her hardest to make the most of it.

When she arrived in Rosewell, she noticed that Perry had taken no little pains with his wardrobe either. Although his tweed suit was likely second-hand and tailored nowhere as well as his usual Los Angeles attire, it was neat and well-pressed. He wore a matching tie and a white cotton buttoned-down shirt, and a large smile which grew broader when he walked forward to meet her.

He commented on how nice she looked, and then suggested that they walk in the direction of the park. When she agreed, he took her arm in the same way that he had thousands of other times when he had steered her through a crowd of reporters or up the steps of a courthouse. She thrilled at the touch of his fingers on her elbow again. Just a few days ago, she had feared that he had escorted her for the last time.

As promised, he showed her around the winding paths of the park, and then walked her through the picturesque Main Street. Finally, they made their way past the public library.

"Do you come here often?" Della inquired.

"It is my favorite place in town."

"What are you reading now?"

"Shakespeare's Othello. A very dark, but interesting story about human psychology. Shakespeare also had quite a way with words, and I plan to read all of his works over the course of the autumn. What do you think of the playwright?"

"His stories are fascinating, and there is a reason that they have stood the test of time," Della answered, remembering sadly how he used to be able to quote Shakespeare word-for-word at the drop of a hat. "But I prefer to watch productions of his plays rather than reading the texts."

"Do you often go to the theater?"

"I go occasionally. Sometimes Paul or my boss get tickets as a thank you gift from their clients, and ask me to go along."

"And what is the last play that you saw?"

She told him, and the conversation turned to Della's life in Los Angeles, to her friends, family and childhood. As they talked, they walked into the diner and asked for a booth. Being provided with one, they sat down and ordered.

"Well, now," Perry said, as their food was served and Della finished speaking, "you have told me a great deal about your past, and politeness would demand that I now do the same. But, unfortunately, I am unable to do so."

The woman across from him raised her eyebrows and regarded him with curiosity. She had long wondered how he understood his own mental state, but she remained silent. This Perry considered sufficient encouragement, and he confided that he could remember nothing of his life as it was prior to about three months ago. He told her about waking up, completely disoriented, in a sanitarium and being told that he had been found in the woods. He confessed that as hard as he tried, no shadow, no inkling, of his past ever intruded on his consciousness, and the doctors at last had ordered him to stop trying to remember lest he cause worse damage to his mind.

"And so, the only clue to my past is this signet ring which was on my finger," Perry said, touching the ring which Della knew that he had received from his parents as a congratulatory gift on the day of his law school graduation. "I do not even know if it be of real gold or merely an accessory made of fool's gold. I was going to have it appraised, but there is no jeweler in Rosewell who is qualified to tell the difference, and the more I think about it, the more I believe that it will be a waste of time. Knowing the monetary value of the ring will hardly help me regain my memory, and it does not look unique enough to be able to be traced to a single purchaser." He looked at the woman who was studying him carefully from across the table. "There, now, you know my story. I understand that it is a heavy burden to carry, and that everyone who becomes good friends with me will likely be affected by it. I will completely understand if you choose to finish your meal quickly and hurry back to Los Angeles."

Della smiled, crossed her arms, and leaned back comfortably against her seat.

"Why would I run?" She cast a significant glance at his fingers. "You were wearing a signet ring when you recovered consciousness, and not a wedding ring, is that correct?"

Perry nodded.

"Then I see no reason why I should not stay and get to know you better."

Perry broke into a wide smile and reached across the table to take her hand into his.

"You know," he said, "the doctors kept telling me that I should look to the future, not the past. For a long time that was difficult, but it has just become easier to do."

…

An hour later, after they had finished their food and hot coffee, Perry escorted Della to her car.

"I have had a wonderful evening," he said.

"So have I."

"You would care to come back next Sunday for another walk?"

"As a matter of fact, I would," Della said, giving him a look full of tenderness.

A very satisfied and happy expression filled Perry's face, and he gallantly lifted her hand to his lips.

"Thank you, Della. You truly are a remarkable woman." He opened the car door for her. "Drive carefully. It is getting dark."

"I will, Tom," the lady answered. "I will."

Obviously, this story is far from done. I'm working on the next chapter now...