Trust
Della Street, from a small Midwest town just outside Chicago, was just 22 when she stepped off the train in Los Angeles 4 years ago. Her favorite aunt, Mae Kirby, had been there to greet her with open arms and a sympathetic ear.
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Della had been engaged to Michael Domenico, the captain of the football team and the most handsome, popular boy in high school. After two years of attending parties where she was paraded before his friends and business associates like a prize bull, being told to smile but remain silent like a good girl, Della knew this was not the life she wanted. It was then she discovered Michael had a violent temper. Not that the bruises ever showed, he was too careful for that. When she tried to talk to her friends, they either told her she was imagining things or changed the subject. And of course like all abusive men, after each incident, he would apologize profusely, promising her it would never happen again.
Then, just a week before the wedding, Della had been out with several of her girlfriends for an unofficial bachelorette party. Because there was only one decent restaurant in the town, Michael's bachelor party was being held in the room adjacent. Della's mother had ordered several bottles of champagne to help the girls celebrate. While Della had only had two glasses, several of the other girls were feeling quite drunk. They soon became quite loud, toasting her and telling her how lucky she was to be marrying the catch of the town. Della just smiled politely, wondering in her heart if she truly was lucky.
As the party started to break up and the girls were gathering their belongings, Michael stormed into the room. He was obviously very drunk and unsteady on his feet. Della's mother approached him in an effort to help, but he shoved her aside. His blurry eyes scanned the room, finally seeing Della surrounded by her friends. He walked slowly across the room, hanging onto chairs to keep his balance. Her friends, seeing the menacing look in his eyes, backed away.
When he reached her, she tried to smile. "How was your party Michael? Did the guys have a good time?"
But he just threw back his head and laughed. "Don't try that simple routine on me Sweetheart. I can see you've been having a very good time at YOUR party."
"Yes Michael. But...". Before she could say anything else, he backhanded her across the face, causing her to stagger against the table.
"Shut up you drunken slut! I'll tell you when you can speak!" Her friends gasped and backed further away. Della's mother rushed to her daughter's side.
"Michael!" But he ignored her and grasped Della roughly by her arms, dragging her across the room.
"Come with me! It's time you learned your place, woman!"
But Della struggled out of his grasp and glared at the man she thought she loved and who loved her.
"No Michael. I'm not going anywhere with you, ever again. And I am not going to marry you."
This time he used his fist to hit her. She crumpled to the floor at his feet. "That's exactly where you belong. And you are going to marry me. You aren't going to embarrass me and my family. Now c'mon, get up."
But as he reached for her, Michael's father and brother grabbed him and pulled him back. As he struggled, the two men managed to get him out of the room. Della's mother hurried to her daughter, but Della only shook her head. After a few minutes Della felt strong arms gently pulling her to her feet. Her brother helped her to a chair and handed her a napkin filled with ice to hold to her face.
"He's gone. When you're ready, I'll take you home." Della could only nod her head.
One week later, Della had boarded the train, hoping she had seen the last of her hometown - and Michael Domenico.
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Shortly after arriving in LA, Della had joined a secretarial pool, allowing her to move from her aunt's house to a modest apartment in the city. She had kept mostly to herself, allowing only a few of the other secretaries to become friends. Soon the everyday monotony began to make her long for something new and better.
At dinner one evening her best friend, Janet Brent, had suggested she apply for the position of confidential secretary to the new lawyer Perry Mason. When Della told her she knew nothing about the law, Janet had told her that it shouldn't matter, as the lawyer was just starting out and Della was the quickest study she knew.
Now fours year later, Della sat at her desk in the law office of Perry Mason. Her life these days was filled with excitement and adventure. She never knew when a client walked into the office what sort of problem or trouble they were bringing to her boss. Not long after she had been hired, even though her experience with the law was so limited, Mr. Mason had started having her accompany him in the courtroom, on his late night outings to unmask criminals and on occasion as his escort to social functions. Even though their hours were unpredictable, he always made sure she was fed and escorted her safely to her apartment.
Lately, however, things seemed to be changing. She noticed him gazing at her when he thought she wasn't looking. Though he always held her arm to help her from the car or when they walked together, now the grasp was longer and almost caressing. And on the rare occasion when they shared a dance, he held her closer than a boss should hold his secretary.
"Della?" The hand on her shoulder and his voice saying her name brought her out of her reverie, causing her to jump involuntarily.
"I'm sorry, Perry. I was distracted. Are you ready to go over that brief?" She stood, grabbed her pad and headed for his office. Perry stared after her, then shaking his head, followed her.
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As Perry sat at his desk, dictating notes to Della, he was still wondering at her reaction a few minutes ago.
Four years ago, when he was still a new lawyer, starting his criminal law practice, he had already gone through a succession of secretaries. Some had no idea what a secretary did. Some couldn't handle the long hours and less-than-savory element he dealt with. And then of course, some just had their designs on their handsome, eligible boss.
Then Della Street had walked into his office and his life. She had no legal experience. She was fresh out of a secretarial pool but something about her fierce attitude and no nonsense demeanor told him this was going to be the girl for him. Of course, he had his newly hired private investigator, Paul Drake, look into her background.
He learned of her parents, brother and aunt. He also knew about a broken engagement, although the details were unclear. He also knew she fibbed about her age by a couple years, but unlike most women, she did it to make herself seem older.
In the past four years Perry had come to depend on Della so much that if she wasn't there he was lost in his own office. She could handle anyone who entered the office from the most obnoxious client to a wolf like Paul Drake. She had charmed the gruff Lt. Tragg and could even make the usually dour Hamilton Burger smile. It seemed there was nothing and no one she could not handle.
And in four years, Perry realized he had come to think of her as more than a secretary. She was beautiful, charming, and funny. And he was falling for her and falling hard. But there was a problem, a very big problem. She was his secretary and she had been hurt - and hurt badly. He knew the first time he had taken her arm to walk with her out of the office and felt her flinch at his touch. At first he thought it was his imagination, but it had happened again and again. It had become less frequent over the years but there were still times like today when his touch on her shoulder had caused an almost terrified expression on her lovely face.
At times like that Perry felt a rage boil up inside him, wanting to hurt the animal that had hurt this beautiful lady.
"Perry?" He realized he had stopped talking and Della was looking expectedly at him.
"Della, it's late. Let's close up and head down to Clay's for some dinner." She smiled back at him.
"That sounds good to me, Chief. Just let me close up my desk and then we can go."
As Perry watched her walk away, he was more determined than ever to find out who had hurt her.
Once they had finished their dinner and Perry had escorted her to her apartment, he decided now might be a good time to try and get to the bottom of this problem.
"Della, please don't misunderstand me, but may I come in for a few minutes? There's something I need to discuss with you."
Della, thinking it had to do with their current case, quickly responded. "Of course, Chief. Come in and make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to drink?"
She hung her coat on the rack but as she started for her kitchen, Perry caught her hand, again noticing the slight flinch.
"Della come sit down." Glancing down at their hands then back up into Perry's eyes, Della was suddenly worried. Had she done something wrong, was he going to fire her?
Perry, seeing her worried expression, chuckled softly. "Relax Della. I just want to talk to you."
"Okay." Perry led her to her couch, letting her sit on one end while he took the other. He had been thinking about how to broach the subject all through dinner and the drive to her apartment. But now, looking into her beautiful hazel eyes, he was suddenly worried about how this would affect their relationship. Not sure how to start, he cleared his throat, glancing down at his feet.
Now it was Della's turn to chuckle. "C'mon Chief. Out with it."
"Who hurt you?" Oh nice going Mason.
Della looked at him in surprise. "Excuse me?"
"I'm sorry Della. I didn't mean to be so blunt. Let me start again." As Della started to speak Perry reached out his hand to her. "Please Della." She only nodded her head.
"I need you to know that I'm very fond of you. Not just as my secretary but as a friend. We share so much together both at work and outside of the office." He noticed a blush creep into her cheeks but decided to finish. "I'm hoping that you feel at least a little something...of friendship...for me too."
Della shifted nervously. "Of course I do, Perry."
Perry smiled. "Okay." Now he turned more towards her, still holding her hand. "Della it's quite obvious to me that someone, some man in your past, hurt you deeply."
Della pulled her hand from his, wrapping her arms around her middle, staring at the floor. "Perry you're wrong."
Perry chanced moving a little closer to her. "Della, please look at me." She shook her head. "Please Della."
At the pleading note in his voice, she lifted her eyes to meet his deep blue ones. What she saw there caused her to hold her breath. There was concern and caring and something she was too afraid to name. Something she hadn't seen in a long time.
Almost in slow motion Perry closed the short distance between them. He placed a finger under her chin, tilting her head up. "I want to kiss you Della." When she didn't respond but didn't pull away, he bent his head and placed a soft kiss on her lips. He felt her tense and immediately broke the connection. "I'm sorry." Then he saw the tears in her eyes. "Damn!"
He stood and began to pace her small living room. Della watched him for a few moments before she spoke softly. "Perry, please. I'm the one who's sorry. Come back and sit down. Please."
Perry returned to the couch, being sure to keep his distance. When he didn't say anything, Della sighed deeply.
"I haven't thought about this since I left home. I thought I had buried it away. But I suppose I should know it's not going to stay that way." She brought her legs up to curl beneath her and began telling Perry the story of Michael Domenico. Several times Perry's face became a mask of anger and when she told him of the events at her party his big hands clenched into fists. When she finished talking, she didn't realize tears were streaming down her cheeks until Perry handed her his handkerchief. As she wiped away the moisture, she managed a small smile. "So there you have the sad tale of Della Street. I'm sure I've probably sullied your impression of me and..."
Perry placed a gentle finger to her lips. "My beautiful, wonderful lady. The only thing you have done is to make me admire you more. I cannot imagine a stronger, more resilient woman and I know now how you cope with everything I throw at you on a daily basis. Della you are wonderful. I love you." The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
"Oh Perry..."
"Oh God, I'm so sorry. I just didn't...". Della moved so quickly he almost toppled backwards when she put her arms around his neck. Then she was kissing him and every other thought was forgotten as he wrapped her in his embrace. When they finally broke apart Della smiled down at him.
"I love you too." She curled into his embrace, placing her head on his broad chest. He stroked her back, placing gentle kisses on her head.
"I'm very glad you said that Sweetheart. I was afraid I was going to have to start looking for a new secretary."
She laughed and looked up into his eyes. "Not a chance Chief." But then she lowered her head. "But what happens now?"
"That depends." He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face. "Do you want me to stay or go?" She continued to gaze at him, but when she pushed away from him and stood, Perry thought once again he had stepped over the line. When she walked to her front door, he knew for sure. He stood and started towards her, only to stop when she engaged the deadbolt. Then she turned, taking his hand, and walked them down the short hall to her bedroom.
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Della opened her eyes and didn't wonder anymore. He would tell her everyday how beautiful she is to him, that she is his favorite, his only, and his love. That when the sun comes up every morning, he will choose her and that he always will. And today, for whatever reason, she rested in his reassurance that she was loved. She finally released all the broken promises and all the hurt in her past and finally believed she could trust her heart just this once more.
As she turned in her bed and sought the warmth of his embrace she knew at last she was cherished and protected. And most of all, loved. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His hand wound into her hair, playing with her curls.
"Good morning Sweetheart."
"Good morning." She almost hummed the phrase.
Perry stroked his hand down her back, causing her to giggle. "I think I should get up and fix us some breakfast. I know how you get when you're hungry."
Della raised her head to look into his eyes. Moving almost catlike she shifted so she was lying across him like a blanket. "Perry."
"Yes Della."
"Later."
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Epilogue
Michael Domenico answered the knock on his door hesitantly, sure that no one in town would disturb him at the ungodly hour of 6 am. He stared at the tall dark haired man, wondering what he was selling.
"Whatever you want, I already gave at the office." When the man only stared at him, Michael took a step forward to intimidate this man. When the man didn't move, Michael was forced to step back. "Okay whoever you are, what do you want?"
Perry took a step closer, grabbing Michael by his shirt front and lifting him off his feet. "My name is Perry Mason. I'm Della Street's boss. I understand you like to hit women." Michael was struggling in Perry's grasp. "I'm giving you fair warning Domenico. Do not ever contact Miss Street again. Because if you do, I will personally see to it that you never see the light of day outside of a prison cell." With that Perry let go of him and Michael fell in a heap on the floor. As Perry turned to leave, Michael scrambled to his feet, grabbing Perry's arm. In one smooth move, Perry turned and with a left hook dropped Michael to the floor once again. "I'd stay down if I were you." Rubbing his knuckles, Perry strode down the walk to his car. Paul was behind the wheel laughing.
"Nice left hook pal."
"Thanks Paul. Let's get out of here. There's a beautiful lady waiting back home for me."