Della and Perry walked through the fields hand-in-hand. For several minutes they simply breathed in the fragrant air, attempting to release the tension in their chests which still lingered there. It had been an extraordinarily difficult week for both.

They had walked over half-a-mile before Perry finally broke the silence.

"Your family owns a beautiful piece of property," he said as his eyes roved over the grassy meadows and white picket fences.

"I always loved my childhood home," Della admitted, "until a few weeks ago, that is. It was to be ransomed at too high a price." She shivered and moved closer to him. Studying his face in the moonlight, she asked, "How did you find out?"

"I went through Gertie's desk on Monday looking for paperclips and found your resignation letter." He gazed down at the woman next to him, and asked the question which had been perplexing him all week. "Della, why didn't you tell me?"

"The short answer is, I could not bear to," Della replied, knowing full well that it would not satisfy him. She sighed, and delved into her long, sad tale. "At first, when Miles called me two months ago and told me about the agreement my father and Mr. Clark had drawn up and what it meant for me, my reaction was one of disbelief. I knew about the feud between our families, of course, but I could not believe that my father would actually risk my chance of marital happiness in such a manner. Miles told me smugly that he would send a copy of the agreement in the mail, and I frankly never expected it to arrive. When it did, I read it with horror. Very hesitantly, I called my father and heard, in his own halting voice, his admission of guilt. For a few hours, I sat in my apartment in utter shock, and then resolved to fight."

"I would expect no less of you. What did you do?"

"At first I thought the thirty-year-old agreement so frivolous that it would surely be deemed unenforceable. For a week, I made sure to arrive at your office in the very early morning hours, when I knew that neither you nor anyone would be in, and went through the law library. I read each and every volume on property law that you had, and with increasing panic I realized that all the legal precedent was on Miles's side, not on mine. I then proceeded to secretly consult not one, not two, but four of your esteemed colleagues who specialized in property law, and every one of them informed me in a matter-of-fact way that Miles would be the rightful owner of my parents' farm if I was unmarried the day after my thirtieth birthday."

"I seem to remember that there was someone you didn't consult. Why?"

"I thought about consulting you," Della admitted. "I thought about it several times. But in the end, I felt that the risk far outweighed any possible benefit. I know that you often see things which other lawyers do not; however, your specialty is criminal law, not petty agreements between two feuding farmers. And I know how you operate, Perry – you would need to know about every argument, every potshot, every piece of slander that had occurred during the feud, and it was a story I could not even think about without painfully blushing and wishing that the floor would open up and drop me gently into the cellar. With so great a chance that I would soon be removed from your circle forever, I wanted to at least leave you with a good impression of me, and not with the memory of me as the offspring of a bitter breed whose hand in marriage had been gambled away by her own father."

"But you never thought that I might have some interest in the case other than that of an attorney? I know that I was never forthcoming about my feelings with you, but did you not consider that I would at least be a friend who would have compassion and a listening ear in your time of trouble?"

"Actually, I feared that you might, which was another reason for my silence. There were times in the last three years, Perry, that I dreamed that those little jokes between us, those tender moments when you covered my sleeping form with your jacket, might be signs that you had some affection for me. But faced with the stark reality of securing a husband in six weeks, I revisited those episodes and concluded that there was nothing to them but my wishful thinking. You were suave to me, but you were the same for every female client. You had never told me that you loved me, despite a multitude of opportunities to do so. But yet, I knew that you were a very kind man. I knew that the minute I broached the subject with you, distress would be apparent all over my face, and you would soon find out what sort of man Miles Warner was. I worried that you, out of pity and out of a sense of responsibility, would propose marriage to me because you felt it was your fault that I had worked so much and had not had many opportunities to meet young men, much in the same way that you would take me out to dinner after having me work late. As convenient and wonderful as that would be for me, I could not bear that you sacrifice your chance to fall in love with and marry someone else for the right reasons. This feud has been destroying lives in my family for thirteen decades, and I could not bear that it swallow yours in that horrible, evil whirlpool!"

"Oh Della," Perry murmured, overcome. "This is true love! Very few women would have done what you did in your situation. I was going to reproach you about the short, impersonal missive that you left me for a resignation letter, but I have no heart to do so now."

"Writing that letter was the hardest thing I had ever done. I ruined ten copies of that letter with my tears and misspellings before the eleventh one made it into the envelope. I was so afraid that being more verbose might reveal to you the depth of my despair and pining for you. I settled on writing the shortest, most professional letter I could."

"And then?"

"With a heavy heart, I gave it to Gertie on that last Friday, and then went home and cried all throughout the night. When the sun arose, I rose from my bed along with it, and wiping away my tears, did what I knew had to be done in order to secure the future of my family. I called Miles and told him to expect me at the Baskerville Train Station in forty-eight hours, ready to be his fiancée and to marry him on my thirtieth birthday. I bore his sadistic glee as best I could, then hung up the phone and began to pack up my apartment. As I stowed my belongings in boxes, I also locked away all my hopes, dreams, and feelings into the recesses of my heart, and allowed Della Street to become a shell of her former self – one who could bear the insults and humiliations that Miles Warner would certainly throw at her during their marriage. I boarded the train and arrived at Baskerville as I had promised. You know the rest."

They stopped walking, and turned to each other. Perry took Della's hands in both his own, and with a trembling voice, said,

"Forgive me, Della! If I had acted as I ought, you would have been able to laugh at Miles Warner the first time he called you, hang up the phone and go back to bouncing our child on your knee. I am as responsible as he for all the misery you endured during these weeks. And I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I will start right here, right now, by attempting to tell you how much you mean to me. Della, I love the way you walk into a room, I love your distinctive voice. When I am exhausted working a case, merely having you around me gives me strength. Your sense of humor is always on point, and lifts my spirits. You are the only woman who I would trust to be the mother of my children. I am not worthy of you, but I thank you for giving me this opportunity to care for you and make you happy, my dearest, most wonderful, most beautiful Della!"

"I love you too, Perry," the lady murmured in return. "How wonderful it feels to say that out loud at last!"

Looking into her shining eyes, Perry Mason felt the moment was right to do what he had long desired to do. Twining his arm around her waist, he drew Della towards himself, and bending his head, and tenderly pressed his lips to hers.

The spirits of both soared. It was a long kiss, expressing all the longing that they had felt over the last three years. At length, they broke apart, and stood, in great happiness, looking at each other in the moonlight. After a few minutes, they heard the chiming of the distant church bells, and counted eleven strokes. Reminded of how late it was, Perry said,

"It is almost our wedding day, Miss Street. You ought to go home, have a hearty supper, and get some sleep."

"And dream of you," Della said, taking his arm and fluttering her eyelashes at him. Perry pecked her cheek and led her back to the farmhouse.

Within half-an-hour, he deposited Della back into the arms of her relieved family, kindly ordered her to get some rest, and betook himself to his abandoned car. He drove it into the town, booked a hotel room, and once he found himself alone in it, picked up the phone and dialed Paul Drake's number for the second time that night.

"Paul, it's me," he said as soon as the private investigator answered.

"Perry? Is everything alright?" Anxiety was plainly audible in his friend's voice. Despite it, he attempted to joke. "Do you still need a tow truck?"

"No, not at all. I need you to do a few things for me in Los Angeles, and then come here as soon as possible."

"Is there any particular reason for these instructions?"

"Indeed there is. I find myself in need of a best man at my wedding."

"Perry! Congratulations! This is some of the best news I have ever heard!" Paul exclaimed, and took several minutes to heartily wished him and Della well. Then he wrote down the remainder of Perry's instructions, and the two men hung up and each got to work, making phone calls and arrangements.

Next up: The Wedding!