This piece contains vignettes or flashbacks within a larger story. The "memory" portions are primarily events that follow the wedding described in SSD: Final Delivery. The present day follows the scenario created in the last chapter of SSD: Rightful Heirs. However, if you have read neither of those you should be able to follow it anyway. This is a love story. It has romantic elements but primarily it is a love story. I wrote this piece in appreciation of the POstables who fought diligently for renewal and value what matters most. To The POstables.
Warning: This story is a little all over the place as far as content. My imagination frequently exceeds my writing skills and my discipline. English majors may want to read while having a glass of wine – or two.
The characters belong to the amazing and beautiful Martha Williamson for whom I have the greatest respect.
Some Enchanted Evenings
Shane McInerney O'Toole can feel the pillowcase beneath her face as she struggles to open her eyes. Not completely asleep but not fully awake she stretches her leg across the bed in search of the familiar feel of her husband lying next to her only to find nothing but bedding. Finally shaking off the slumber she opens her eyes – 12:31 a.m. Sitting up she realizes that twenty minute nap she intended to take until time to feed Olivia became four hours of sound sleep. Rising she puts on her soft white cotton robe over her floral peach pajamas and goes in search of her family.
From the doorway she can see that two out of three are in the den. She gingerly climbs the stairs in her bare feet to check on the third. She knows well that Oliver does not want her climbing stairs but when has she let what he wanted stop her - at least something like this. A full moon shining through the window acts like a giant flashlight casting its silver beam on their firstborn. Henry sleeps soundly in his bed hugging the stuffed floppy eared dog given him by his beloved poppa. All is well. She smiles as she slips back downstairs.
Returning to the den she eases onto the sofa to appreciate the view before her. It is a cool Colorado night so she pulls the throw off the back of the leather couch and wraps it around her shoulders. She notices on the table by the chair the empty bottle once full and ready in the refrigerator used instead of waking her.
He hadn't even taken time to change clothes. There he was – stretched out in the recliner – worn navy dress pants, polished shoes, white dress shirt with sleeves rolled, no tie. He had spread a receiving blanket across his chest for the comfort of the not yet four-week-old treasure sleeping there. His upper body rises and falls with his steady breathing; his hands lie large across the tiny infant's back. Especially in the wee small hours of this particular morning her mind wanders to the first time she saw him in those dark slacks.
"And you kind sir look very handsome. Are you wearing a new suit?" she asked.
"Yes, my dad suggested it."
"And you tied your tie in a Windsor," said Shane.
"Yes I did," replied Oliver. "And it is not Wednesday."
"The blue makes your eyes sparkle," she whispered in his ear.
Without missing a beat he replied, "I believe you, my dear, are the reason my eyes sparkle."
They both chuckle at each other's blatant flirting.
"Shall we?" asked Oliver, offering her his hand instead of his arm.
"Yes," Shane responded placing her hand in his. "Are we dancing?"
"No, we are not dancing. We are leaving."
Leaving together. Beginning this life they have made. She remembers every detail.
Yes, that is what pulling away from the chapel felt like – a new beginning, a new life. It's that fresh start where the entire world is your oyster. Excitement. Joy. Anticipation. It is a particular longing on the cusp of fulfillment. The celebration with family and friends comes to an end and you pull away to a new hope filled future.
The two driving away from the chapel were not right out of college. They weren't wide-eyed innocents protected from the reality of life's hardships and trials. They had already fought and won and fought and lost a few battles. He was a man pushing forty who traveled this road once and had his heart broken in the journey. She crossed thirty dragging the lessons and the pain of betrayal with her. But now together – together they have found healing and hope, a renewed trust and a deeper faith, and most of all an abiding love. And that day – that very special day everything felt new again. Everything felt whole and hopeful.
Shane takes a deep breath, exhales and closes her eyes just as she did the night the jag pulled away from the mountainside chapel.
The noise from the throng of well-wishers gives way to the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires as they begin their departure. Suddenly they are alone.
They have been alone together many times before but this is different. They treasure every minute of the ceremony, enjoy every second of the reception, and now their time of private celebration has come. Already there is a sense of being one – of two people joined together – to stand and to withstand together. Oliver reaches across the center console simply to take Shane's hand. She smiles. Neither speaks. They are lost in the sense of each other's presence and their newfound marital status. The smooth jazz playing on the car radio provides background music to their silence as they make their way down that serpentine road.
Two children later she can still feel his fingers intertwined with hers and hear the music. She remembers the bend of the road – sweeping, smooth curves. Surely the car had taken flight and they were no longer earthbound. If she opened her eyes she would see only the rising moon and the setting sun. It was not some fantasy. It was ecstasy. Long after the day past and time requires her to let go of his hand she will hold onto this feeling – this memory. She was absolutely wallowing in the moment. Now she wallows in the memory.
Tonight she opens her eyes just to watch him sleep, just for the assurance of seeing him. She is deeply grateful for all that has brought them to this moment. Diapers and dishes replace the flowers and festivities. But the wonder and gratitude have only grown. She did not want to separate from him that night and she doesn't want to leave the room that holds him now. The past few months have been trying, difficult, even frightening at times; yet he has held her hand every step of the way. The outcome of this particular journey is that precious treasure sleeping on his chest now. Certainly they held each other during every joyous dance and wearisome trial. One way or the other they kept each other from stumbling ever since they said "I do."
Determined not to see each other before the ceremony, they were inseparable from the moment the vows were exchanged. Arm in arm he escorted her back to the chapel being careful that she didn't stumble on the stone pavers. They laughed and chatted as they walked knowing well what was yet to come.
"Meet you back here?" Shane asked, stopping just outside the ladies dressing room.
"Yes. I would not consider leaving without you," Oliver replied in matter of fact tone, eyebrow raised.
"I won't be long."
How easily everything from that evening comes alive within her again tonight: the breeze that gently blew her wedding dress going back to the chapel after the reception; the fragrance of the gardenias planted along the sloping pathway; the sound of the water flowing from the fountain in the chapel garden.
Standing in the dressing room after the ceremony she takes advantage of the privacy to catch her breath and to reflect. It is the first minute that she has had to herself in hours. The dress she could not wait to wear would be set aside but not before one last twirl in front of the mirror, one last brush of the skirt, one last look heavenward in gratitude for what has taken place. She offers no words. She has no words. She lifts her heart to heaven to this loving Father that she has come to know more each day. She is relishing in thoughts of what transpired between Oliver and her this evening – the tender look in his eyes when he first saw her coming down the aisle, the earnest tone of his voice reciting vows, the secure feel of his arm around her waist while dancing.
Her fingertips trace the beading on the lace bodice. She is glad he likes the dress and hopes that he is as pleased with the rest of her wardrobe. Beginning to change she struggles a little with one of the buttons on the back. After tonight there will be someone to help her with buttons and zippers and bracelet latches and life. Her eyes begin to puddle from her overflowing heart.
"No, no. No tears. There is no time to completely redo, uh I mean to redo completely this makeup. I'll leave a trail of mascara all the way to the car," she reprimanded herself aloud.
Instead she steps out of the shoes, steps out of the dress, and prepares to step into the next milieu of this most beautiful dream. The gorgeous gown of candlelight lies momentarily like a puddle at her stocking feet. Lifting the dress from the floor she carefully places it across the loveseat and turns to the clothes waiting for her. A candlelight suit is ready to replace the candlelight gown.
Candlelight. The name conjures memories of evenings past and hopes for evenings yet to come. How lovely everything looks in its soft illumination - to have dinner across from him by candlelight, to dance with him by flickering glow, perhaps later to make love to him in its soft radiance. Yes, it is the color she chose for today – for him. It is symbolic of their union: a light that the darkness cannot overcome.
The linen tapered pencil skirt that is hemmed to just below the knee fits her to a tee. The slit in the back makes walking possible. A long open jacket with a stand up collar and three quarter sleeves covers the surprise element of the ensemble – a silk halter-top. The lush pure white fabric held by a single clasp drapes around her neck, crosses her breasts, wraps around her waist and comes back to tie in the front. Bangle bracelets jingle as she moves her right arm. When she leaves this room her husband will be waiting for her. Just as she wanted everything to be perfect for her waiting groom, she wants everything to be right for her waiting spouse.
She drops her makeup into her handbag. She is ready - so very ready.
"I wonder how much work it's going to take for me to get back in that skirt," she muses, moving from the misty past to the present.
The pink-cheeked cherub starts to squirm, her lips search for her mother as she begins to gnaw at her own tiny hand. Shane knows the silence is about to break and rises to take the bundle lying on her prince. Her preemptive move is for naught. Oliver wakes to his baby's cry and the shushing sound of his wife.
"Hey little one, must you wake the neighbors?" asks Shane lifting Olivia into her arms.
"Oh my, we fell asleep," says the weary dad.
A pacifier quiets Olivia for the moment but Shane knows the tranquility won't last.
"We all had a nap. Didn't we sweetie? You need a diaper change."
"I'll get it," says Oliver.
"It's alright. You had a long day. I'll change her and then feed her. Why don't you get ready for bed?" Shane turns sideways to further prevent Oliver from taking the baby from her.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes, I am fine. You worry too much."
"That is not worry. I am just very practical concerning my wife's wellbeing," he says rising from the chair to kiss his wife on the forehead. "If you are certain…"
"Oliver, I am fine."
"….very well, I do think a change of clothes is in order. These have done their due diligence for the day."
Entering the bedroom Oliver begins removing the day's uniform. He carefully checks each pant pocket laying his keys to the black jag on the dresser. His old blue vehicle died an inconvenient death and left them stranded one evening in the rain when they were dating. At Shane's insistence he bought a new one right before they were married. She knew it was something he wanted but would not buy for himself without her prompting. It was the least he could do for himself. He hopes it will keep running – forever. The approaching arrival of their second child led them to trade Shane's sedan for a slightly used crossover. Babies certainly affect budgets and car choices.
He hangs the crumpled slacks in the closet as his memories hang on the first time he wore that suit. Sometimes it feels as if it were only yesterday. Sometimes it feels a lifetime ago.
He recalls opening the heavy exterior chapel door for his bride and stepping back to allow her to enter. How beautiful she looked as the skirt of her dress brushed against his tuxedo pant.
Cutting through the sanctuary is the quickest way to get to the men's dressing room. Oliver swings open the interior doors through which he saw her pass just hours ago. The memory of her entering that sacred space causes a lump in his throat to form again. He shakes his head in disbelief at wealth of emotion he experiences. He is so nervous waiting for the ceremony to begin. All the anxiety he previously felt is replaced by elation the minute he sees her enter the room.
He continues his nightly routine without thinking as his mind lingers in the memory of that night.
Arriving in the back hallway of the chapel he glances to his left at the minister's study. Rev. Marshall is long gone. The building is oddly empty, oddly quiet except for the rustle of two lone newlyweds preparing to leave. The rich paneled room he exited as a single man he now enters as the husband of Shane McInerney O'Toole. He has no qualms about ridding himself of his wedding attire. The perfectly tailored tux is quickly exchanged for a well-fitted dark blue suit.
He pops the silver engraved cufflinks Shane gave him last night into the French cuffs of his new white dress shirt. The memory of that evening's gift exchange conjures the smell of her perfume. Funny how easily he flips the light blue tie with its tiny white dots it into a full Windsor. Prior to the ceremony the bow tie proved to be a nemesis to his skills. Afterward he is unstoppable.
When all is donned and the slightest piece of lint removed, he smiles at his reflection in the mirror. Yes, he looks particularly handsome. The tie accentuates his eyes blue like an October sky. The starched, white pocket-square sits regally against the navy jacket. But the smile is not an acknowledgement of his own good looks. He smiles because he is ready to see her – to meet her – to be reunited with her.
With a tug he squares the hem of his jacket. He makes one last check of the room. Yes, his dad had taken care of everything.
As he travels back down the chapel aisle his only thought is that just on the other side of those doors she waits for him. His steps quicken. He extends his arm actually touching the brass handle of the oak doors. However, something makes him stop. Something calls him to turn around, to face the altar. She may be standing behind him just on the other side of those doors. She may be pacing and wondering where he is. His dad may have the car ready. Yet he cannot go further. He pauses to breathe. That which at times comforts him and at times calls him to be uncomfortable speaks his name. The Paraclete, which loved him when he did not love himself and sustained him on this journey, is awesomely present. Looking over his shoulder to the altar he turns and reverently slips into that last pew. Facing the stained glass window he sits stilled in the beauty of holiness and prays.
Gracious Heavenly Father, your mercy and goodness are boundless. Thank you for this day and all that has transpired and all that is yet to come. Continue to be with us throughout our journey. May our marriage bring honor to You. In the name of Christ our Lord I pray. Amen.
He remembers how they simultaneously entered the narthex. Their timing was perfect.
With the jacket draped over her arm and a dazzling smile, she took his breath away for the second time that day. Stunning. Elegant. Alluring.
"You look beautiful."
"I hope so. I married the most wonderful man," she said with all sincerity.
He steals a kiss as he helps her slip on her jacket.
The two exit the chapel to the sound of cheering friends and family who throw environmentally friendly birdseed, which was recommended by Bill of course.
Oliver catches a glimpse of Rita handing Norman a tissue. Norman cannot help but shed a few tears seeing his best friend and mentor smiling and waving as he and his bride run hand in hand for the car.
Oliver recalls what Norman said to him just before he and Shane left the reception to change clothes.
"Oliver, I wanted to say that you seem younger and freer than anytime since I have known you. It is like - like a weight was lifted. I am very glad for you my friend. You deserve this happiness."
Perhaps more than anyone present Norman was the one with the front row seat to Oliver's heartbreak. That day he had a front row seat to his friend's restoration. Time and sorrow seemed to be erased. This man whom he loves like a brother began life anew.
"They are finally married," said Rita.
"To each other," replied Norman.
What an easy getaway they had. Take your bride's hand and make a dash for it. Now to go anywhere requires strategic planning: one infant seat, one child safety seat, one diaper bag which includes everything but the kitchen sink, one activity bag which must include Gawgy as well as a change of clothes for an emergency, a carefully carried infant, a three year old whose hand one may hold, and two harried adults. Whew. Since Olivia was born they had only tried this once – to go to Joe's house – for two hours.
He rolls his stiff shoulders and rubs his neck. Deciding the day needs to be washed away Oliver heads for the shower. Stepping under the water a bit too hastily the cold spray catches him off guard. He steps back waiting on a warmer welcome. Everything that happens today seems to remind him of their wedding day. He thinks of feeling caught off guard by someone as welcome as cold water in a shower, Lester Kimsicle. Once mortified by Lester's actions Oliver finds the memory laughable now - at least the part involving Lester.
Oliver is a reasonable man, a measured man. That day he is unreasonably, immeasurably joyful. They declare before God and witnesses their love and commitment. They celebrate publicly their vows. He knew he badly wanted this marriage but he didn't fully realize the depth of that yearning until they get in the car and are leaving. The love he feared he might never find is embodied in the woman beside him.
After about ten minutes of silence the groom wonders about his unusually quiet bride. He expected her to be chatty – offering a thorough review of the wedding and quizzing him about their honeymoon destination. The wedding and reception had truly gone off without a single hitch. Yet there she sits seemingly deep in thought, holding his hand. Oliver becomes a little unnerved by her silence.
He begins to wonder to himself.
"It has been a long day. Maybe she is tired. Not too tired I hope. Is she not feeling well? Is she worried about something? What if she is disappointed – in all that I planned? I never asked. She knows we are flying to England but I have not told her when or what is in store once we arrive. She knows we will spend time in Ireland but I have not hinted at Stockholm. Perhaps I need to tell her. Where is her beautiful mind?"
"It has occurred to me that I should have consulted you concerning the plans for our honeymoon. In my effort to surprise you I never asked what your wishes may be," he began.
"I will be happy to be with you wherever we go," she said looking out the window.
"We will see. I guess," he mummers, momentarily losing his confidence.
Shane offers no further comment she simply squeezes his hand.
"I thought Reverend Marshall was particularly eloquent. He is always well spoken. Do you not agree?"
"Yes, he is."
"Is she fighting tears? Perhaps the stress of the day has reached a climax. Let's try the more lighthearted topic," he thought as he steers the car around the next curve.
"And the food at the reception was excellent," he said.
"Yes it was."
Silence.
"I certainly thought everyone enjoyed the music whether they danced or not."
Some phonetic, closed mouth, agreement is uttered. Conversations about the reception aren't working. Perhaps something more personal would conjure a response.
"Didn't Rita look beautiful."
"Yes, she always does because she is," she replied with quivering lip.
Silence follows yet again. He is certain that she is upset. Beginning the honeymoon with a crying bride is not what he had in mind. An overlook is just ahead on the right. Oliver pulls the car off the road and puts it in park.
"What?" She is confused by his actions.
"What are you thinking?" he asked softly.
"I'm just happy and so grateful." Her smiling lips quiver as she blinks and fights tears.
"Hey, hey," he said gently. Unbuckling his seat belt he reaches the inside pocket of his jacket, gives her his handkerchief and pulls her to his shoulder.
"It's alright," he said.
"No it's not. I'll ruin my makeup." The tears she has held back all day overtake her.
"You could not possibly ruin anything."
She giggles through the overflow of teardrops at that statement and reaches up to place her hand on his cheek.
"We got in the car and it was as if everything I could possibly want or hope had – had come together today – and – I was just so full," the bride said.
With his eyes pooling with tears her groom responds tenderly, "Once I told you that I had spent my life looking for a future and someone to spend it with. I have found that someone and I could not be happier or more grateful either. We are going to have a wonderful life together."
"And a lot of fun the next two weeks too," Shane said with a chuckle wiping tears.
"I love you," she said. Words really aren't needed. Her face says it all.
"And I love you s.…"
HONK. HONK.
"What the Sam Hill?"
Suddenly there is a rap, rap, rap on the driver's side window.
Oliver begrudgingly lowers the window.
"You two kids ok? Me and Hazel saw you pull off and thought you might have car trouble. I mean you do have someplace to be."
"No Lester. No trouble. We were - enjoying the view," said Oliver.
"The view? It's dark," Lester replied in loud astonishment. "Well I think you have a better view to enjoy. If you know what I mean," he continues.
Hearing far too much already, Oliver interrupted, "We are fine. Thank you. Good bye."
"But…"
"Good bye."
Oliver raises the window as he drives away leaving a very baffled Lester Kimsicle waving at the taillights of the vehicle.
"I'm sorry," he said to Shane. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm fine. Poor Hazel," chuckled Shane.
"You can say that again," said Oliver smiling and taking her hand again.. "Now where were we?
"Buckling your seatbelt," said Shane laughing.
"Oh, of course. That would be why the car is making that dreadful beeping," he replied with a smile.
Meanwhile, a dry diaper and the familiar sound of her mother's voice temporarily satisfies sweet Olivia. Shane having perfected the "baby in one hand, work with the other" when Henry was born cradles Olivia with her left arm and begins to tidy the den with her right. The last order of business is to take the empty bottle left by Oliver's chair to the kitchen. She can even dissemble it single handedly. Rinsing the bottle in the sink she sees a single house light in the distance. Its slight illumination is very different from the lights of the city. The closer they drove to Denver that night the brighter the sky became.
With the lights of the city nearing, the conversation in the car lightened as well. Reliving the ceremony and who was there and how much they enjoyed every minuet detail rolls off their tongues like butter. Before they know it the newly weds arrive downtown Denver – 321 17th Street to be exact. Oliver stops the car at the entrance of the grand old hotel and Shane thinks her heart stops as well.
"Oh Oliver," said Shane.
"Too predictable? Too practical?" said Oliver.
"It's perfect."
The valet quickly steps forward to open their doors and take Oliver's keys. She isn't sure what they said to one another but Oliver comes around to the other side of the car and escorts her into the hotel – leaving car and bags to be handled by others.
They approach the reservation desk. A very professional and pleasant lady greets them.
"Good evening. Welcome to The Brown Palace and how may I help you?"
"Good evening, I'm Oliver O'Toole. My wife and I have a reservation."
It only takes a second before she enters the name in the hotel computer and raises her head with what seems to the bride a knowing and larger smile.
"Mr. O'Toole, I see that we have everything just as you requested. One moment please. Terrell, the O'Tooles have arrived."
Shane likes the sound of "my wife and I." She likes how naturally Oliver said it. She beams. Without thinking she bounces once on her toes and squeezes Oliver's arm. Her gleeful gesture brings a smile to Oliver as they exchange glances.
"This is Terrell. He will take care of things for you."
Whatever Oliver "requested" seems to have everyone on his or her toes. It is a bit strange. Terrell may be the one to take care of things but a guy whose name tag clearly reads "Freddie" is the one actually pushing the cart with their luggage. Freddie moves quickly to an elevator by the reservation desk while Terrell leads them slowly across the grand lobby up one level of plush carpeted stairs toward a different lift. Oliver slows their pace as they cross the path where he first told her that he loved her.
Oliver looks at Shane. He looks to see if this spot is to her as it is to him. Already they read each other's thoughts. Her eyes and nod let him know that she too remembers. Of all the memories they have made at The Brown this is the dearest. She holds his arm tighter as he escorts her to the waiting elevator.
It is enough to stay in any room at such an historic hotel but they are headed toward the top of the Brown. Neither bride, nor groom, nor bellman utters a word. The newly weds exit their upward ride onto a private corridor. Freddie now pushing an empty cart toward them and a waiter leaving the room that they are approaching passes them as they continue to follow Terrell to the door at the end of the hall.
"Welcome to the Eisenhower suite," declared their efficient, professional bellman.
Shane starts to follow him into the room when Oliver stops her.
"Excuse me, you are forgetting something," said Oliver.
Scooping her into his arms as if lifting a feather he carries her over the threshold across the black and white tile foyer into the sitting room. His unexpected actions cause her to gasp and then burst into pleased laughter. But her laughter soon stops as she gasps at the beauty of the room. This is no ordinary hotel room. This is a multi-room suite.
She looks with affection at the photo in the windowsill above the sink. It is a selfie that Oliver finally consented to taking with her just before they checked out of that suite. They always said they would return. They haven't yet. Maybe they will some day. Regardless she will always have the memory of those two nights.
If only she could have read the bellman's mind.
That evening the chief bellman bites the inside of his lip to keep from smiling too much at the gesture. It has been a while since he has seen a groom, a sober one anyway, carry the bride over the threshold. And he carries her with ease. There is something refreshingly different about these two. They are obviously in love, enamored with each other. Yet it is more than that. There is some surety between them, a confidence and trust. When they enter the hotel heads turn and they don't even notice. They are quite distinguished: Oliver in his perfectly tailored suit; Shane in an outfit Grace Kelly could have worn. They move across the lobby as if they were the only two people in the world and the world takes notice.
With a pacifier keeping Olivia happy for the moment, Shane continues to work. She wonders if Oliver made himself a sandwich for work tomorrow and checks the fridge. The ham and cheese on rye is already in its ziplock bag. She wishes she could serve him lunch tomorrow on a domed platter. A sandwich he made for himself and a bag of chips will have to suffice.
While she will never admit it, Oliver is right and she is doing too much. Fatigue hits her arms first and the little bundle of joy is suddenly heavy. She goes to the den where the corner of the couch can cradle them both. Olivia is ready to eat and about to let all of Colorado know. Shane pulls back her robe and unbuttons her pajama top just in time to prevent the clarion call. No champagne and silver trays tonight. But she has vivid memories and she wouldn't change a thing – then or now.
"Sir, I believe everything is as requested. Shall I plate your food or pour your champagne?"
"No. Thank you. I will take care of that."
"Very well. Should you need anything let us know. Otherwise you will be undisturbed."
Oliver puts Shane's feet safely onto the thick carpet.
"Thank you." Oliver discreetly reaches into his suit coat pocket where he already has cash to tip the bellman. He left no stone unturned. Shane drops her handbag onto the chair beside her and removes her jacket. Taking his cue from his bride he too dispatches of his jacket and hangs it in the coat closet in the suite's foyer.
Shane's eyes begin to search the room as she pivots back and forth in her high heals. She stands in a spacious sitting room complete with a lit fireplace. A bottle of champagne is on ice. Several chilled domed platters wait proudly on a serving cart by the dining table. In addition to the beauty of the suite itself there are three arrangements of yellow roses. A low spray of miniature yellow roses rests on the dining table in the room to her left. A dozen long stems stand on the desk in the corner of the sitting room. Drawn to the vase of English blossoms in front of her, Shane bends down to enjoy their sweet fragrance brushing their petals with her finger tips. She glimpses an already turned down, four-poster, rice bed through the door to her right. A small vase of white roses beckons on the bedside table. Her heart rate quickens.
Oliver has truly taken care of everything in advance. He left a handwritten letter of detailed instructions with the concierge when he made reservations – in person – checked their best rooms to decide which he thought she would prefer.
"I hoped it would not be too – too anachronistic for you?"
Turning back to her thoughtful husband Shane rests her palms on his chest as he rests his hands on her shoulders.
"Not at all. This is – is truly splendid."
"I wanted a place we could share before leaving for England. A place we need not depart. And I wanted it to be special. I wanted it to be where I first told you that I loved you."
"It is very special," she replied. "Do we fly out tomorrow?"
"We could have flown out tomorrow but I – I didn't want us concerned with being at the airport at six a.m. I mean we might wish to - sleep in."
"Exactly," said Shane.
"Well we have been very busy," replied Oliver.
"Very."
The beauty of the room, his attention to details speak of how thoughtfully he has considered this time. The hopeful look in his eyes washes over her. If this is a dream may she never awaken.
"I did not know if you might like a bite to eat when we arrived so I wanted to have an amuse bouche for you."
"No thank you," she said as she begins to play with his tie, stepping ever closer.
"Well actually it isn't an amuse bouche…."
"Oliver, I don't care for…"
"It is more like finger sandwiches…"
"Maybe latter."
"I recalled your delight in the cucumber sandwiches so I had some….."
With a tug on the tie, Shane stops his conversation with a solidly placed kiss.
"Perhaps for a midnight snack? We might get hungry," she whispered to him playfully.
"Ah, yes," said Oliver.
She is like putty in his hands now. His fingers tell her that he realizes the silk top has but one clasp and he could easily be her immediate undoing. But that is not the pace of things or his wish for tonight. To make her feel treasured, understood, and cherished is his utmost desire. And he does.
"Ouch," said Oliver, stepping back in shower onto one of Henry's bath toys. "There are three bathrooms in this house. Why is this the one filled with toys?" The dad just shakes his head and smiles.
"The suite has two baths," he said with a certain amount of pride to his bride.
"That's convenient."
"I wanted you to have your own – just for tonight - in case you wanted – privacy."
"...to slip into something - else," Shane whispered in his ear then slipped out of her heals dropping four inches in front of him.
The yearning in her response pleases the waiting groom. Shane picks up her shoes and walks to the master suite. Just watching her walk causes Oliver to loosen his tie. She closes the door to the bedroom behind her with a smile.
"I will – I will do likewise," he said, swallowing hard as his eyes follow his bride.
Oliver goes to the additional bath and puts on his new, pressed, pale blue pajamas, navy robe, and leather slippers. He cannot help but smile recalling a conversation he had with Norman as he ties the sash on the robe.
"Oliver, you know the tux is important."
"Yes it is."
"Well I learned that the bride has a whole lot of stuff that is important."
"I am certain she does."
"Oliver, I thought I should tell you about – about this – store."
"Oh, you have discovered a new store. Do they sell rare stamps?
"No they sell – stuff."
"Stuff? And what sort of – stuff?
"Oh, they sell - lady stuff," replied Norman, nervously gesturing to his body.
"Lingerie?"
"Yes! Before Rita and I were married, she and Shane went there and she bought some – stuff. And I thought you should know that she and Shane went there again and Shane bought some…."
"Stuff?"
"Yes. So you might want to buy some…."
"Stuff? For Shane?"
"No. You might want to buy some new pajamas – for yourself."
"Did you not buy any new - stuff - for yourself?" asked Oliver, maintaining his composure for the sake of his well-intended friend. Apparently Norman was somehow caught off guard on his honeymoon and is trying to give him some marital advice.
"Not really. I did have some new boxers with owls on them."
"I see. Well thank you Norman. I will certainly see that I purchase – stuff – for myself as well."
He didn't tell his friend that he had already purchased a great deal of "stuff" including a new robe and several pair of pajamas from the gentleman's shop where he buys his suits. He was also already aware of the shopping trip the ladies made. Shane need only say that she and Rita had some shopping to do and neither he nor Norman could come. The twinkle in her eyes pretty much cued the fiancé as to the nature of the excursion.
He steps from the shower and starts to grab the dark blue lounge pants and t-shirt hanging behind the door. Instead he decides to search the chest of drawers for a pair of pale blue pajamas and for an old navy robe hanging in the back of his closet. After the trials of the past few months he is a little more sentimental about milestones than usual.
From the den he hears his daughter beginning to fuss. Dressed for bed he follows the sound. Shane is curled up in the corner of the couch feeding Olivia. Shane is a still his vision in white. He joins her, slipping his arm around his wife's shoulders and drawing the two most beloved females in his life to his protective side.
While the first pregnancy was without difficulty, the second had come with life-threatening complications. Both baby and mother were fine but Shane's recovery to full health would require a little more time and care than with Henry. Oliver took three weeks off when Olivia was born. He had only been back in the office three days now but they were agonizingly long hours away to him. He wanted to take more time but his return was linked to restructuring and significant promotions for him and Rita. He would have to trust the timing and the support of his dad and return to work. Still it had been hard not to worry about her and want to be at home with her.
Being fascinated by her, wanting to spend time with her, caring about her came easily to him. When they first met he feared it came too easily for him. His fascination with her began at a coffee cart. Caring about her began the first time they danced together. But true love and compassion for her evolved and deepened with time.
Somehow from the start he could not help but tell her things about himself that he shared with no one else. Divulging his past began over drinks at the old Mail Box Grille when she first came to Denver. But getting to know the details of her life had come far more gradually.
As many times as Oliver told others to assume nothing he sometimes failed to take his own advice when it came to matters of the heart. A few important assumptions about Shane's life before Denver and even after Denver needed correcting.
An illuminating conversation occurred late one evening after dinner that shed light on areas of her past that Oliver had not deigned to question. The truth began to be told while sitting on the porch swing. Wrapping his arm around Shane's shoulders Oliver began what he thought was a lighthearted conversation.
"I made more plans for our honeymoon this afternoon. Honeymoon – afternoon. That rhymes," said Oliver, smiling all the while and obviously quite proud of his achievement.
"And I suppose you aren't going to tell me what those plans are going to be," she said playing right along.
"No I am not," he said, squeezing her shoulder.
"You know I have never – never had – a honeymoon," said Shane searching his eyes for understanding.
"Of course not. Neither have I actually. Holly and I we just – well." Oliver stuttered and stammered.
The conversation he began for the purpose of teasing his fiancée turns suddenly awkward. Oliver had been married before and they both knew what that meant. Even Holly made some things clear to Shane in their brief encounter. His intention now was to clarify that he had never made such plans for another woman – even his former wife. She already knew that Holly asked him to marry her and three hours later they were married. Somehow he felt as if it came out all wrong.
"What I'm trying to say is that I – have - never - been - to the movies either," said Shane biting her lower lip.
"How did you hear about that?" said Oliver, sitting upright taken aback.
"Rita told me. She thought it was wonderful. She was very appreciative of your – insight."
"Oh. I see," said Oliver, resuming his relaxed posture. At that point his only epiphany was how Shane learned. Her original statement had not yet registered. Then the light dawned.
"Are you – concerned?" he asked.
"No, no. I look forward to our movie," she said leaning toward him and bumping shoulders.
That statement made Oliver smile and wrap his arm around her shoulders a little tighter.
Oliver did not like to consider this aspect of Shane's past. During her three-month absence he feared Steve's hold on her was more than professional, more than platonic. Few people in Oliver's life engendered the contempt that Steve Marek had. He saw him as an unscrupulous manipulator – and that was just a few of the very sincere things he thought. But Shane returned to Denver and he chose not to consider it again. For Oliver it was a veiled portion of her past he preferred not to lift.
Shane had always been the curious one in their relationship. Oliver had chosen to leave her past in the past sometimes out of fear of the truth. When it came to Steve Marek, Oliver failed to practice the adage "assume nothing." He just didn't know what he had. But tonight Shane broached the subject and Oliver knew it was past time for him to listen.
"It's a lovely evening. Shall we walk?" said Oliver, standing and offering his arm.
For reasons that escaped him, walking helped Oliver clear his own thoughts and even experience God's presence more fully. He wanted to be at his best to receive lovingly and wisely whatever she needed to say. They walked and she talked.
Shane's past poured forth with each forward step they took. She confessed her hurt and confusion after her father left and of her own trust issues that developed.
"When I first came to work, we were at the old Mailbox Grille and you said something about keeping your word after all you were a gentleman. You have no idea how those words struck me – stayed with me - a man who keeps his word - even when - abandoned. I'm afraid I was unfamiliar with the concept."
"No, I had no idea at the time. Frankly, I went home that night wondering why I was confessional with a - stranger," Oliver said with a chuckle.
"So many things about you - the things you said - just drew me to you. As disappointed and hurt - even a little angry - as I was over you cancelling our dance, in places I didn't want to admit I knew you were right. Something happened between us that night in the DLO. Something that caught us both by surprise I think," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder as their pace slowed.
Oliver nodded in agreement.
"I should have never put you in that position," he said.
"You talked about avoiding the appearance of impropriety – protecting my reputation. I told myself you were just afraid of having fun. But deep down, I knew you meant it. I knew."
"I went home and lost a night's sleep thinking about our argument and praying for guidance. You had a way of telling me things I did not want to hear," Oliver said.
"The funny thing - it only made me respect and love you all the more. Well except for that thing about presuming too much," she adds with a grin.
"I shall never live that down," he says shaking his head and looking up.
She chuckles. "Oh, I think you've done a pretty good job."
Shane continued to tell of her less than satisfactory experience with men. She told of unwanted advances by guys in college and of finally falling for and daring to trust that somewhat older man who happened to be a spy. With a few more steps Shane gets to the real crux of what she wanted her soon to be husband to know.
"I met Steve when I went to work in D.C. He was older. He had this great job and he took me to fine restaurants. He had tickets to the Kennedy Center and to Nationals' games. He would dash in for while then disappear for weeks on end. It was all very mysterious and exciting. One evening he invited me to his apartment for dinner."
"We do not need to have this discussion," Oliver began with all tenderness.
"Please, I think it is important," Shane interjected. "Suddenly the doorbell rang. It was a currier with a letter. Steve read the letter, signed something, and then sent the currier back. He turned to me and said that he had to leave immediately and that he would have a car take me home. I left D.C. for Denver before he ever returned. Absolutely nothing beyond a kiss ever happened between me and Steve.
Their walking ceases as Shane turns to face him.
"Don't you see? Of all the things that could have interrupted that evening - a phone call - a text - it was a letter - a divine delivery. And then I met you - this man who values the written word and does the right thing. I've thought of it often. It was no coincidence."
"Coincidence is the middle name of the Almighty," said Oliver.
"Somehow, I feel as if you came for me even before you knew me."
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Oliver whispers the verse to the night wind. In his mind images from the broken road that brought them both to this moment flash before him. It is as if God Himself is reminding Oliver of His faithfulness and intentions for them both.
Shane's honesty and vulnerability only cause him to feel all the more protective of her as he holds his teary eyed fiancée in his arms.
"It's late. You have work in a few hours. You should go to bed," says Shane, gazing up at Oliver and interrupting his recall of things past.
"I should be right here," Oliver replies.
Her words say one thing but her body says another as she rests against him without even thinking.
"I will bring dinner home when I get off work. It will not be The Brown Palace but you won't have to dress if do not feel like it."
They sit together in silence for a few minutes – just wanting to be together – close together.
"She is asleep," Oliver observes.
"Yes, she always falls asleep during this feeding."
The two adults look affectionately into each other's eyes. He pulls wife and sleeping baby into his arms and kisses Shane so that for a moment they are newly weds back in a hotel suite.
"I better get two glasses of ice water tonight," says Oliver, flirting with his wife yet knowing this moment cannot go any further this evening.
"Yes," giggles Shane.
Getting two glasses of water and setting them on the bedside tables had become part of their nightly routine. Tonight Oliver may be pouring water but in his heart he is pouring champagne.
He was pouring champagne that night when he heard the click of the door opening from the bedroom. A barefooted vision in white steps from the master suite. She had purchased the extravagant white ensemble from Mon Amore. She bought some other things also but they were for other nights. She meets him wearing white for the third time today.
The ornate bun that held her hair for the wedding is gone. Long loosely curled strands lie softly on the shoulders of the untied silk robe. He can't take his eyes off her as he sits the glass on the table. Champagne can wait. Noticing every detail of her – even her bare feet - he steps out of his slippers to walk towards her. He could consume her in one breath.
"Hello," she says as if she just arrived. She seeks his approval and everything in his eyes says that she has it.
"Hello, my love" he responds bringing her hand to his lips. A heart that once was shattered now pounds for her. He draws her right hand to the lapel of his robe just as he once brought it to the lapel of his jacket the first time they danced. That first dance he saw hurt in her eyes and his first instinct was to pull her to him, to comfort her, to embrace her. Tonight the hurt is replaced with joy and love and longing. No reason exists to refrain from embracing.
The slightly cocky, confused man hiding behind a three-piece suit that she met at a coffee cart is not the same man holding her now. He is confident and definitely knows what he is doing. There is no pretense. No one is in a hurry to be somewhere else. He hides nothing from her or she from him. His love for her is passionately and unashamedly given. She receives and reciprocates his affection. This night is the consummation of their new life together – pure and lovely like white silk that cascades to the floor.
This night an unadorned white cotton knit robe drapes the back of a rocking chair. The perfect long loose curls hang instead in a messy ponytail. She wears no makeup.
He returns to their bedroom with two glasses of water and watches her as she checks the infant asleep in the crib once more. His heart still pounds for her. To Oliver she is as lovely as a barefooted bride in lace lingerie. Placing the water on the nightstand he scoops her up in his arms as if she were a feather. She gasps.
"Oliver?"
"Happy anniversary my love."
"Happy anniversary."
The kiss that can make a woman change her mind makes this weary mom feel like a bride again. He carries his wife to bed and sits beside her. Taking her hand in his he prays.
Gracious Heavenly Father, your mercy and goodness are boundless. Thank you for this day and all that has transpired and all that is yet to come. Continue to be with us throughout our journey. May our marriage bring honor to You. In the name of Christ our Lord I pray. Amen.
Leaning down he kisses her once more, turns off the lamp on her side of the bed, walks to the other side, and slips in bed to join her. The night they were married they thought they could not possibly love each other more. Yet somehow every day they become more deeply in love – more completely one flesh. With eyes closed he cannot help but draw her closer to him.
She snuggles into his arms. He smells like soap. Time fades the color of his pajamas into a paler hue of blue and frays the perfect piping but it also softens the fabric and makes the familiarity of his arms all the more inviting. She smiles in the security of his strong embrace - in the peaceful silence of the night. The two tired adults drift asleep.
"Mommy! Daddy! I want a glass of water," comes calling from the monitor in Henry's room piercing the peace. "I need to potty! Where are you? I can't find Gawgy!"
The desperate cry of her brother wakes the sleeping sister and she responds with her own sharp call from her crib.
"You get her. I'll get him," says the exasperated dad.
"Henry, daddy's coming," Oliver speaks to the monitor. "Ouch."
"Are you alright?" asks Shane.
"Yes, I just stumped my toe on the door frame," says Oliver hurrying out of the bedroom.
"Friends told us Henry might stop sleeping through the night when we brought the baby home. I did not believe it." Shane hears Oliver muttering in astonishment as he goes to the stairs.
His bride only giggles as she soothes their newborn. Some nights are like this – even on your anniversary.