Musings & Admiration
Disclaimer ; Usual, I don't own them, don't make any money from them. All rights are the property of the estate of ESG.
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Replacing the telephone receiver back into the cradle, Father Mark Ryder chastised himself for the pleasant shiver that trickled down his spine and the sinful smile he allowed himself. Having worked for Archbishop Stefan Corro for four months now, this was the second time in a week he had taken a call that left him tingle with joy.
'Who was that Mark?' The sudden, silent appearance of his silver haired boss and mentor caught him off guard.
'I'm sorry Your Grace.' His face took on a pink tinge. 'That was Miss Street again. She was confirming Mr Mason's attendance tomorrow night at the orphanage fundraiser.'
Stefan Corro chuckled as he understood why his young assistant had blushed at being caught daydreaming.
'Thank you Mark, and yes she is.'
'She who is what Sir?'
'Miss Street really is that charming and delightful in the flesh.'
'I'm not sure what you mean,' Mark blustered. 'It's just a little warm in here.' Archbishop Corro held his hand up.
'It's alright Mark. No need to commit the sin of lying. You're not the first man of the cloth to fall for that husky voice and sweet nature, in fact, you're not the first man in general.' He chuckled again.
With some trepidation at that statement from someone so elevated and important in his chosen calling, Mark swallowed and ventured. 'Have you Your grace? Fallen for that voice?'
'Of course I have. How could you not?' Seeing the shocked bewilderment of his admission written all over the young Fathers face, he carried on. 'Della Street is the most charming woman you will ever meet. And you will meet her tomorrow night.'
'Have you known her long?'
'About oh good gracious where has the time gone, why I've known Della almost forty years. I've known her boss Perry Mason even longer than that.'
'Forty years? She sounds rather young on the phone, if a little husky.'
'It's like liquid chocolate falling over you isn't it?'
'It certainly is.' Father Mark drifted off into a daydream momentarily again before pulling himself back into the present. Archbishop Corro grinned widely across his friendly face.
'When you do meet her, you will need to prepare yourself.'
'For what? If you've known her for forty years she must be in her fifties or sixties at least.'
'Oh, you youngsters,' the Archbishop chided gently. 'Age is but a number and some people retain their beautiful looks forever.' He dropped his voice to a whisper as if sharing a secret. 'And Miss Della Street is one of those refined beauties, no matter what age. Now, shall we finalise the plans for tomorrow night Father?'
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Father Mark found he had little time to himself between his impromptu conversation with the Archbishop and the start of the fundraising event. That meant he had only fleetingly dwelt on what Della Street may look like. He hadn't worked out her age, but had decided at a mere twenty five years old, he would perhaps appreciate her looks but he was immune to them on account the lady herself was old enough to at least be his mothers age. When he took his vows, he also felt he had an invisible suit of armour on against such earthly immoralities.
After speaking to the Mayors assistant, he heard the voice of Archbishop Corro coming towards him from behind his back.
'Ah there you are Mark,' Stefan called in a friendly greeting. 'I'd like you to meet some old friends of mine.' Mark turned on his heel with a smile on his face, which promptly turned to open gawping. 'Father Mark Ryder, I'd like you too meet one of my oldest friends Perry Mason the famous attorney and his lovely associate Miss Della Street.'
Mark blinked several times before some unseen power made his hand shoot out from his side. He thought himself reasonably tall, but the lawyer seemed to tower above him. Powerfully built with one of the broadest chests on a man he'd ever encountered, with his grey hair and beard, Perry Mason's appearance alone demanded respect.
'Mr Mason.' Mark shook hands with the lawyer. He was mildly taken aback by the gentleness in the large hand, but he was in no doubt the man could crush the bones in his fingers should he choose to.
'Father.' The deep voice vibrated, and the good Father thought it fitting for the man. 'This is….'
'Miss Street.' Mark finished the sentence for him. 'We spoke on the phone a couple of times this week.' A slight blush tinged his cheeks as he held out his hand towards Della's. The look of amusement passing between lawyer and Archbishop went unnoticed. 'A great pleasure to finally meet you.'
'Thank you Father. I was also looking forward to putting a face to the beautiful tenor voice on the phone.' The blush deepened as the young priests gaze swept up and down Della in appreciation. He knew he was no man of the world where women and intimate relationships were concerned, but he instantly knew what the Archbishop meant about true beauty because he was now witnessing it standing directly in front of him. And he was rooted to the spot.
'Can I have my hand back?' Mark was brought from his trance by the soft, husky tones. It was then Mark realised he was still holding Della's hand in his. He drew back as if he had been burnt.
'Oh I'm so sorry,' he stammered. 'Please excuse me.' He withdrew quickly to hide his embarrassment.
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Minutes later, Father Ryder found himself standing on the terrace taking in the night air.
'I told you she was a stunner.' The amused tone of the Archbishop drifted over to him from the doors.
'I'm sorry Your Grace. I appear to have humiliated myself and you. My behaviour was irresponsible towards Miss Street. You'd think we were in a bar the way I was gawping at her.'
Stefan put both his hands up.
'Stop right there Mark.' His voice was soft and soothing, with no hint of reproach. 'There's no humiliation to be had. You've seen pure beauty, appreciated and admired it. That's nothing to be ashamed of.'
'But my chosen path means I shouldn't…..' his voice trailed off as his face burned in embarrassment again.
'Shouldn't what? Shouldn't appreciate what's wonderful in this mean old world? Just because tonight it's manifested in a face, what's to say tomorrow it isn't the blue sky, or the birds in the trees or a new-born baby? Are you going to ignore things just because they remind you you're still flesh and blood?'
'No Sir, but Mr Mason, the way I was ogling Miss Street…..'
'Mr Mason is well used to the reactions of men around Miss Street. Did you see him get angry with you?'
'No.'
'Did he ball his hands into fists and glare you?'
'No.'
'Then I'm certain you're safe from his wrath this time.' Stefan allowed himself a laugh.
'Mr Mason is protective of Miss Street?'
'I'd say possessive on these occasions rather than protective.'
'Possessive? Why would Mr Mason have cause to possessive of his secretary?' Before the question left his mouth, Mark's face changed to one of enlightenment. 'Oh. He and she are urm…. '
Archbishop Corro nodded his head sagely. 'They are, but they like to keep quiet about it. It's no-ones business but theirs.'
'But they're not married are they?' He tried not to sound incredulous.
'No, but I've tried to steer them towards the altar a few times over the years.'
'But that's a mortal sin.'
'What is? Being in love? Mark, they've loved each other for forty years. Since the day she walked in his office, she had the great Perry Mason tamed. Just because they don't have a ring and a piece of paper doesn't make them any less in God's eyes. They're committed to each other and have lasted much longer than most married couples I know. And they're happy.'
'It's not very conventional for someone in your position to be such close friends with…'
'Again, stop right there Mark. They're two of my oldest and closest friends, and I love them dearly. Just because they're unconventionally, unconventional people who live life according to their own rules, doesn't make them any less than an unhappy married couple who stay together because they feel they have to.'
'I'm sorry Your Grace.' Mark hesitated.
'Shall we go back to our guests and wring some money out of them for the orphanage?' Stefan beamed to take the sting out of his earlier words.
'Of course. Do you think Miss Street would dance with a young, naive man of the cloth if I asked her?'
Stefan clasped him on the back good naturedly.
'Father Mark, with Perry Mason about and Della Street wearing that dress, my friend, you don't stand a chance.'
End
