Part 1.4 – Soul of Discretion
By nine the next morning Perry Mason was behind the wheel of his big Cadillac, heading north to Carmel, Della snuggled up under his arm, her head on his shoulder. Traffic was light this sunny Saturday morning, which bode well for an uneventful trip. It was approximately a four hour drive from Los Angeles to Carmel and Perry estimated that even with three planned stops they should arrive at their destination between two and three in the afternoon. He looked down at Della, contentedly sitting beside him, softly humming along with the radio.
She had fallen asleep in his arms and slept peacefully through the night, but had awakened early that morning and snuck out of bed without disturbing his own much needed slumber. Eventually he had become aware of his empty arms and opened his eyes. He pulled on the top that matched his pajama bottoms and went in search of her, slightly concerned that she was up before six o'clock. He found her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, watching the coffee pot on the stove with dreamy look in her eyes. She gave him a sleepy smile as he leaned in for a soft kiss.
"Good morning, Sunshine. How's my girl?"
"I can't remember the last time I slept that well, sweetheart. I'm fine. I feel so much better." Her voice was quite low and a bit raspy to Perry's ears.
"If the way you look right now is any indication of how you feel, then I would definitely agree with you. You look absolutely beautiful."
"If I do, it's because of the extra special care I got last night from a very handsome man."
"It was my pleasure, darling. I must admit I was looking forward to a proper thank you this morning but when I woke up, my arms were disappointingly empty. Why did you sneak out of bed so early?"
She took one step toward him and laid her head on his chest. "This is the time I usually get up. Besides, I have a lot to do before we leave. I have to do a quick load of laundry, I have to clean a little, I have to pack, I have to let Frank know I'll be away, I have to tell the paper boy not to leave the paper and…" Della paused to take a small breath. "Oh, and there's the mail…and I should call Aunt Mae…"
"Whoa, hold on there, speedy," he interrupted. "Slow down. Do you remember the main reason we're going out of town?"
She gave the question several seconds of amused thought. "I believe it's because you think the Pierce case was a bit too stressful on me."
"That's right. You shouldn't be stressed about leaving on a trip intended to cure your stress."
"But –"
"No buts, Della. The only thing you have to do is pack. The apartment looks fine, but knowing you as I do, I took the liberty of scheduling Martha to drop by Thursday morning before she heads over to my place. On our way out we'll tell Frank that you'll be out of town for a week and to please hold your mail. He can also tell the paperboy not to deliver your paper. And you can call Mae from my place while I pack. Does that take care of everything on your list?"
Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "It takes care of everything but the fact that I don't have any clean underwear."
Perry grinned hugely. "Then we'll just have to stop and buy some on the way. I think I might actually enjoy a shopping trip like that." He hugged her close. "Now that your chore list has been tossed out, what say we go back to bed for a while longer?"
She indicated the coffee pot on the stove. "The coffee is almost ready to perk." She cleared her throat when her voice cracked a bit on the word 'perk'.
He reached behind her and turned off the gas. "Not anymore," he almost growled and lowered his lips to hers.
She let his tongue tease her lips with gentle flicking caresses, frustrating his desire to explore her mouth until he growled again. With a tiny laugh, she parted already kiss-swollen lips and accepted his advances, pressing herself as close as possible to his strong, hard body.
He suddenly broke away from her, reached down and pulled the flannel nightie up and over her head. Tossing it to the floor, he pulled her against him and captured her mouth once again with insistent lips. While his hands roamed over her bare backside she deftly undid the string on his pajama bottoms and gave a satisfied moan when they dropped to the floor at his feet. Her hands landed on his bare backside and Perry snickered as he stepped out of the pajamas and kicked them aside over toward her discarded nightie. They stood in the middle of the little kitchen, hands splayed on each other's naked behinds, smiling broadly at each other.
"Now what, Miss Street?" he asked in a strangled voice.
She stood on tip toes and he gasped at the movement as she whispered in his ear. Without another sound, the big man picked her up, placed her over his shoulder, and almost ran to the bedroom as she laughed with wicked delight.
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Della played with the car radio dial, her hand on Perry's thigh to support herself as she sought a station with better reception. He could barely breathe for her closeness, the vision of her beneath him only three hours ago – eyes gleaming with desire as he loved her gently, passionately, thoroughly – replacing the view of the road through the windshield.
He loved to love her. There was no other way to put it. Making love to her, taking care of her, worrying about her, talking with her, sleeping with her, laughing with her. He couldn't get enough of any of it, and knew he never would. Her happiness was his happiness, her pleasure his pleasure. She asked for very little and gave so much. When she did ask for something, he would move heaven and earth to do whatever or get whatever it was she wanted. Sometimes she didn't even know she had asked for something and the look in her eyes when he surprised her made him happier than he had a right to be.
It was January, six months after admitting the depth of their feelings for one another, and they had just finished an early dinner at Donovan's. The night was brilliant and cold and he let the car idle to warm it up. Pulling Della close, he began a serious exploration of her long slender neck.
"Where to now, my love? Would you like to go to a movie? How about a show? Or maybe to the club for after dinner drinks and dancing? I think our favorite band is playing tonight. We'll have a drink or two, I'll hold you close in my arms while we dance…I'll even request 'Moonlight Serenade'. How does that sound?"
"It sounds wonderful, Perry, really wonderful."
There was a slight lack of enthusiasm in her voice that made him pull back to look into her eyes. "I hear a 'but' in that response."
She smiled briefly. "It really does sound wonderful, darling, buuuut…would you mind terribly if we go somewhere else?"
"Of course not, baby. Where do you want to go?"
She hesitated, shifted her eyes away from him. "To the beach."
"Della, it's January, it's almost eight o'clock, it's forty-two degrees, and you want to go to the beach?"
She nodded, still avoiding his eyes.
"All right, the beach it is then. Whatever Milady wishes. But not until you tell me why you want to go now, and why you won't look at me."
Della spoke so softly he had to lean down to hear her. "I'm homesick."
He was flabbergasted. In all the months he had known her never once had she ever alluded to being homesick. There had to be a deeper reason than homesickness to make her want to go to the beach in forty-two degree weather. He held her closer, letting her burrow into the warmth of his wool top coat.
"What's the matter, baby?"
She shrugged and let out a little sigh. "I just sometimes get homesick. I miss my mother and my silly brothers and my nieces, and the Jersey shore where we used to spend our summers. The beach holds a lot of wonderful memories for me. Every summer up until my senior year in high school my family spent a month with friends in a suburb outside Atlantic City. They had a big, beautiful house almost right on the beach, and even though we lived on a little lake, it was the ocean I loved the most, and visiting that house. It was such a wonderful place, with a wraparound porch and big, airy rooms. But it was a terrace on the second level that I loved the most." Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. "Our friends, the Martins, had three children, two boys and a girl, just like my family, and we were all similar in age. Kathy and I felt a little outnumbered, but for the most part we got along very well. All of us kids spent a lot of time on that terrace, and some of the most important conversations of my childhood took place on it."
Della paused and he thought he heard her sniffle. She took a deep breath. "We went there every summer until Dad…until my father got sick and the doctor said it would be too much for him to make the trip. I absolutely loved visiting there, and was devastated when we couldn't go, but Dad was so sick…" her voice caught in her throat. "There were amusement piers that extended so far out into the ocean you felt as though you were lost at sea. There were beautiful grand hotels, and of course, the beach. The boardwalk was actually made of wood, not like the cement ones we have in California. And there were these chairs – they're called rolling chairs – that you sat in and a man pushed you up and down the boardwalk. The stores opened right onto the boardwalk and Kathy and I spent hours window shopping between rides in the rolling chairs. We ate food from every single vendor – soft pretzels, caramel corn, soft ice cream, fudge, salt water taffy…it was heaven on earth."
He rubbed his hands up and down her back gently, ecstatic at the glimpse she was giving him of her idyllic childhood. He didn't know what had brought on the feeling of homesickness, but he had it in his power to make her feel better, and that was exactly what he was going to do, forty-two degrees or twenty-two degrees, he was taking her to the beach.
His reminiscing was interrupted when Della coughed a dry little cough and sneezed. Then she sneezed again.
"Bless you, darling," Perry exclaimed. "Where did that come from?"
Della reached into her purse and pulled out a tissue, which she used to wipe her nose. "I think I got too close to the heater vent while I was fiddling with the car radio." She blew her nose and coughed again. "Something tickled my nose."
"I'll turn off the heater for a while. Come back here and I'll keep you warm." He reached around her shoulders, drew her close again and smiled to himself. The treasured memory of the night they nearly froze to death standing on the beach at Malibu had planted the seed to what he hoped would be a very pleasant surprise for his lovely lady. He was almost fidgety with anticipation.
Della sighed. "It's not even ten o'clock in the morning and already this is just about the most perfect day I've ever had."
"It did start out rather nicely," he agreed with a sly smile.
Suddenly Della sat bolt upright and looked at him with enormous, horrified eyes. "Perry! My nightie and your pajama bottoms are still lying on the kitchen floor!"
Perry laughed and tugged her back into his side. "Honey, it's not as if Martha has never found some feminine doo-dad of yours in my apartment."
Della's face showed utter dismay. "But she's never found pajamas on the floor of your kitchen." She groaned. "How can I ever face her again?"
Perry couldn't stop laughing.
"How can you laugh about this?" she demanded crossly.
"Because it's funny, Della. Relax, darling. Martha is the soul of discretion."
"This is so embarrassing."
"I think Martha will be tickled more than shocked. She likes you. She told me…never mind." He'd almost committed an unforgivable faux pas. Martha had taken care of his apartment for several years. She was acquainted with several women he had dated, including Laura, but Della was her favorite. She had on several occasions mentioned how highly she thought of Della, hinting that she thought they should get married. From her lips to Della's ears…
Thankfully, Della didn't pick up on his slip. "Maybe you could call her later today and tell her not to bother with my apartment."
"Della, really darling, Martha will be all right with finding pajamas in the kitchen. " He broke into fresh chuckles. "I can't believe we forgot about them."
"Well, somebody distracted me," she grumbled, but a smile trembled on her lips.
"And I intend to continue distracting you," he promised.