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A Sequel to St. Valentine's Day
Mason and Julia had to grope their way upstairs. Mason really did not remember how he had managed
the descent in the pitch darkness, and that quickly; the way up was filled with various interjections from
both of them as they were feeling the next step and clinging to the hand-rail and clutching at each other’s
arms. When they finally reached the office they saw it as a long-awaited oasis, in its soft candle glow.
“Beautiful,” said Julia resolutely, walked up to the table in a sweeping manner, grabbed the dark bottle,
poured herself a glass and dried the champagne in one gulp. Nonalcoholic, of course. She then turned
abruptly, to find herself in dangerous proximity to Mason.
“You are beautiful,” he remarked.
Julia stepped backwards hitting her hip a little against the table.
“Sooo -- You were saying?” she prompted.
“I was saying – if the memory serves me right – I want to kiss you.”
And so he did. Julia could hardly recover her breath.
“So you are as good as your word, Capwell,” she babbled.
“Sometimes…”
“Not always, huh?”
“No; commonly I am better.”
“No – well, ah, I mean you’re in love with words, aren’t you Mason?”
“Let’s see what else I can do with my organs of speech?” he retorted.
Julia stepped back again, stumbled across a chair and sat down.
“Before we start exploring that…”
“Yes?”
She was not quite sure if the gleam in his eyes was the reflection of the candle light. Not at all sure.
“I just wanted to say… any other man in your place would have gotten annoyed at me. Any other man, let
alone husband, would have given me a piece of his mind today. And you were… are… so considerate,
so understanding, and so loving, so, so gentle and sup—”
Julia did not know how it happened, but the last words came out as sobs. Mason stood there, a bit
confused.
“Okay Julia,” he said at last. “I love you. I realize it is enough to make you weep, but crying won’t help,
believe me.”
She smiled a wet smile.
“I am sorry, just needed to release that stress, I guess,” she said apologetically. “But I mean it, Mason,
you’re so good to me I—”
“I’m so good to you you are crying instead of enjoying the romantic interlude,” Mason interrupted. “Well,
Julia, like it or not, I love you, and I have every reason to think it is forever. So it’s time to reconcile
yourself to your fate.” He shrugged his shoulders in mock apology.
“Oh Mason.” Julia reached out, and as the first thing she came across was his hand, she kissed his hand.
“Ju--- Julia.” He kneeled beside her. “I did not do anything much today. But since you’ve told me what
you think of me, I – I trust it’s only fair if I tell you what I think of me.” He caught her eye. “That’s right,
always the egocentric Mason Capwell, what else did you expect.”
He sighed. “Well, what I want to say is – please promise I’ll be the first to die.”
Julia gaped at him.
“I mean it,” he said.
“Mason, what on earth--”
“Julia, please be quiet and let me finish. Just for a moment today I imagined – one short moment, that
was enough. You said… When Mary got killed, a big part of me died with her. I really thought I would
never love again. I told you that. And then you--” Mason paused, and it looked pretty much like he
choked with emotion.
“Well, I guess what I am trying to say is – I won’t be able to make it if I have to bury you. There will not be
enough of me left to go on. You know how I care about Samantha and what she means to me, but it has
nothing to do with her. Or with my drinking, for that matter. I will not be there for her if something happens
to you, this is why, you see, you have to make sure you outlive me.”
Julia patted his hair. “Maybe this is why it’s women not men who give birth to children,” she said
thoughtfully.
“Maybe.” Mason rose. “And now,” he said grudgingly, “shall we get back to the initial plan, Mrs.
Capwell?”
Julia feigned surprise. “It was not the initial plan?”
“Which, your fit of panic, or my heart-rending revelations? No, I was somewhat less original with my plans
for Valentine’s Day.”
“Okay, so what were your plans, Mason?”
“Champagne,” he pointed at it. “Strawberries and stuff. Romantic music. You and me together.”
“So the only thing that goes flop is music, right?”
Mason glared at her. “Why would you say that?”
“No electricity--”
“I’ve borrowed Samantha’s MP3-player. I think the battery will last just long enough for us to dance. May
I?” he bowed.
Julia stood up and curtseyed. “The music?” she hinted.
“Ah yes.”
Mason turned and felt about for the player that was on the desk.
“Please don’t tell me we’ll dance to one of Samantha’s disks,” Julia begged.
Mason chuckled. “Well I think that’d be a very effective way for you to make sure you outlive me,
Counsellor… No, I’ve done my own quest.”
He pressed a button, turned round and bowed again. “May I have this dance, Mrs. Capwell?”
When Mason referred to the music he prepared as ‘romantic’ Julia thought it’d be a slow sweet tune you
can sway to, maybe kissing. The classical Mason Capwell choice. This time she was mistaken, though:
she realized it when she heard the first trenchant, passionate chords.
“Tango?” she gasped.
Mason nodded, obviously enjoying her amazement.
The next moment, one of his hands was on her waist pulling her to him in an imperious gesture. The
other hand just missed hers. Julia decided she needed a rose in her teeth for that kind of dance, so she
turned to draw a flower out of the exquisite bouquet sitting in the center of the table. Synchronized with
Mason’s powerful tug, the movement produced a disastrous effect: the vase got down, the water into
every dish on the table, and the champagne bottle hit the floor with a bang.
“Julia!!” Mason cried.
“I was just trying to get a rose,” she explained and demonstrated how she’d intended to use it.
Mason rolled his eyes. “You’re the most impossible woman I have ever met, you know that? Ok: as no
romantic contrivance works with you, so much for procrastination.”
He was watching her intently, and imps were dancing in the mischievous gleam of his eyes: no two ways
about it.
“Now listen to me, Counsellor: take a few steps back, or you’ll upset the candles, and one thing I do not
want to deal with on Valentine’s Day is a conflagration.”
Julia smiled slightly and obeyed. She knew she’d have to be dealing with a flame now, and this time
without delay.
“I’m pouncing,” Mason notified her then.
And he was as good as his word.
…Oh no: of course better.
Mason and Julia had to grope their way upstairs. Mason really did not remember how he had managed
the descent in the pitch darkness, and that quickly; the way up was filled with various interjections from
both of them as they were feeling the next step and clinging to the hand-rail and clutching at each other’s
arms. When they finally reached the office they saw it as a long-awaited oasis, in its soft candle glow.
“Beautiful,” said Julia resolutely, walked up to the table in a sweeping manner, grabbed the dark bottle,
poured herself a glass and dried the champagne in one gulp. Nonalcoholic, of course. She then turned
abruptly, to find herself in dangerous proximity to Mason.
“You are beautiful,” he remarked.
Julia stepped backwards hitting her hip a little against the table.
“Sooo -- You were saying?” she prompted.
“I was saying – if the memory serves me right – I want to kiss you.”
And so he did. Julia could hardly recover her breath.
“So you are as good as your word, Capwell,” she babbled.
“Sometimes…”
“Not always, huh?”
“No; commonly I am better.”
“No – well, ah, I mean you’re in love with words, aren’t you Mason?”
“Let’s see what else I can do with my organs of speech?” he retorted.
Julia stepped back again, stumbled across a chair and sat down.
“Before we start exploring that…”
“Yes?”
She was not quite sure if the gleam in his eyes was the reflection of the candle light. Not at all sure.
“I just wanted to say… any other man in your place would have gotten annoyed at me. Any other man, let
alone husband, would have given me a piece of his mind today. And you were… are… so considerate,
so understanding, and so loving, so, so gentle and sup—”
Julia did not know how it happened, but the last words came out as sobs. Mason stood there, a bit
confused.
“Okay Julia,” he said at last. “I love you. I realize it is enough to make you weep, but crying won’t help,
believe me.”
She smiled a wet smile.
“I am sorry, just needed to release that stress, I guess,” she said apologetically. “But I mean it, Mason,
you’re so good to me I—”
“I’m so good to you you are crying instead of enjoying the romantic interlude,” Mason interrupted. “Well,
Julia, like it or not, I love you, and I have every reason to think it is forever. So it’s time to reconcile
yourself to your fate.” He shrugged his shoulders in mock apology.
“Oh Mason.” Julia reached out, and as the first thing she came across was his hand, she kissed his hand.
“Ju--- Julia.” He kneeled beside her. “I did not do anything much today. But since you’ve told me what
you think of me, I – I trust it’s only fair if I tell you what I think of me.” He caught her eye. “That’s right,
always the egocentric Mason Capwell, what else did you expect.”
He sighed. “Well, what I want to say is – please promise I’ll be the first to die.”
Julia gaped at him.
“I mean it,” he said.
“Mason, what on earth--”
“Julia, please be quiet and let me finish. Just for a moment today I imagined – one short moment, that
was enough. You said… When Mary got killed, a big part of me died with her. I really thought I would
never love again. I told you that. And then you--” Mason paused, and it looked pretty much like he
choked with emotion.
“Well, I guess what I am trying to say is – I won’t be able to make it if I have to bury you. There will not be
enough of me left to go on. You know how I care about Samantha and what she means to me, but it has
nothing to do with her. Or with my drinking, for that matter. I will not be there for her if something happens
to you, this is why, you see, you have to make sure you outlive me.”
Julia patted his hair. “Maybe this is why it’s women not men who give birth to children,” she said
thoughtfully.
“Maybe.” Mason rose. “And now,” he said grudgingly, “shall we get back to the initial plan, Mrs.
Capwell?”
Julia feigned surprise. “It was not the initial plan?”
“Which, your fit of panic, or my heart-rending revelations? No, I was somewhat less original with my plans
for Valentine’s Day.”
“Okay, so what were your plans, Mason?”
“Champagne,” he pointed at it. “Strawberries and stuff. Romantic music. You and me together.”
“So the only thing that goes flop is music, right?”
Mason glared at her. “Why would you say that?”
“No electricity--”
“I’ve borrowed Samantha’s MP3-player. I think the battery will last just long enough for us to dance. May
I?” he bowed.
Julia stood up and curtseyed. “The music?” she hinted.
“Ah yes.”
Mason turned and felt about for the player that was on the desk.
“Please don’t tell me we’ll dance to one of Samantha’s disks,” Julia begged.
Mason chuckled. “Well I think that’d be a very effective way for you to make sure you outlive me,
Counsellor… No, I’ve done my own quest.”
He pressed a button, turned round and bowed again. “May I have this dance, Mrs. Capwell?”
When Mason referred to the music he prepared as ‘romantic’ Julia thought it’d be a slow sweet tune you
can sway to, maybe kissing. The classical Mason Capwell choice. This time she was mistaken, though:
she realized it when she heard the first trenchant, passionate chords.
“Tango?” she gasped.
Mason nodded, obviously enjoying her amazement.
The next moment, one of his hands was on her waist pulling her to him in an imperious gesture. The
other hand just missed hers. Julia decided she needed a rose in her teeth for that kind of dance, so she
turned to draw a flower out of the exquisite bouquet sitting in the center of the table. Synchronized with
Mason’s powerful tug, the movement produced a disastrous effect: the vase got down, the water into
every dish on the table, and the champagne bottle hit the floor with a bang.
“Julia!!” Mason cried.
“I was just trying to get a rose,” she explained and demonstrated how she’d intended to use it.
Mason rolled his eyes. “You’re the most impossible woman I have ever met, you know that? Ok: as no
romantic contrivance works with you, so much for procrastination.”
He was watching her intently, and imps were dancing in the mischievous gleam of his eyes: no two ways
about it.
“Now listen to me, Counsellor: take a few steps back, or you’ll upset the candles, and one thing I do not
want to deal with on Valentine’s Day is a conflagration.”
Julia smiled slightly and obeyed. She knew she’d have to be dealing with a flame now, and this time
without delay.
“I’m pouncing,” Mason notified her then.
And he was as good as his word.
…Oh no: of course better.