Eleanor In Passports

by Sentimentalthoughts

Possibly the most significant character we never met in Signed, Sealed, Delivered was Eleanor Van Teasdale, better known as Eleanor in passports. In this story I explore how she became influential in Oliver's life and what role she played as his motivator. The characters on which this story is based are not mine but belong to the incredible writer and producer, Martha Williamson.

Possibly the most significant character we never met in Signed, Sealed, Delivered was Eleanor Van Teasdale, better known as Eleanor in passports. In this story I explore how she became influential in Oliver's life and what role she played as his motivator. I start with the moment they met. (The story is written predominantly in the past tense with the narrator interjecting at times. That is slightly different for me.) Thank you so much for taking time to read it. I didn't think the piece was long enough or exactly worthy of having chapters; however, I do note sections or "parts" where if you are bored or busy make natural stopping points. I hope you enjoy it. The characters on which this story is based are not mine but belong to the incredible writer and producer, Martha Williamson.

Eleanor

Part One: Beginning

"Good morning, honey. You must be new."

The startled young mail carrier replied, "Ah, yes. How do you do? I am Oliver O'Toole."

"Nice to meet you Oliver O'Toole. I'm Eleanor in passports. Welcome to the Denver Main Branch."

"Thank you."

"Come by my office sometime. We'll do some blending."

"I'm sorry. I don't quite follow."

"Milkshakes. Right now I'm into milkshakes. I have my own blender," she called back as she began walking away. "A myriad of choices."

Oliver smiled politely at this lady in the black skirt and sweater with the white Peter Pan collar and sensible shoes. "I thought blenders would somehow be against regulation," he thought to himself.

This was Oliver's first encounter with Eleanor Van Teasdale, a.k.a. Eleanor in passports, but it was not his last. It was actually the beginning of a meaningful friendship. By the end of the second week of work Oliver was invited to Eleanor's home for dinner. He knew that it is more of an expectation than an invitation and so with some hesitancy the reserved new employee went.

The cars parked in her driveway in addition to the vehicles parked along the walk made it evident before he entered the house that he was not the lone invitee. Nine other folks of various ages and stages of life were there also. Co-hosting this evening was Eleanor's husband Tom. Tom worked in supply for Lockheed Martin Corporation Aerospace & Defense Related System. Tom called Eleanor "Shug," short for sugar of course. Eleanor and Tom married when she was 19 and he was 20. She said they raised each other. Although this warm and happy couple longed to have children, this dream was not to be. They just adopted everyone else whose lives were fortunate enough to cross their paths. Their greatest gift was hospitality.

On this particular night the one thing the invited guests had in common was Washington Park Church – a church to which they all cordially invited Oliver. Oliver grew up in church – in faith. However, the past few years he drifted away from the congregation that raised him. He was starting a new job so starting a new church seemed to make sense. Before he realized the significance of what transpired, he was singing in the choir right next to Tom.

At first Oliver was a bit overwhelmed by the hospitality of this couple, especially Tom. Tom was a big man with a big heart and a big laugh - six feet four inches tall with thinning blond curls already turning white. Oliver would never forget the first time the two men met. Tom grasped Oliver's hand in both of his and extended a firm and lengthy handshake. Tom stepped beside the younger man, wrapped his arm around Oliver's shoulders, and escorted him into the living room for cocktails. "Hey everybody, come meet my new friend, Oliver," barreled the baritone voice across the room.

In this couple Oliver witnessed a marriage between two people who adored each other and thoroughly enjoyed life. There was something refreshing and uplifting just being in their presence. Oliver shared Eleanor's love for music and Tom's love for books. They were both great conversationalists. Eleanor was always playing an old record or cd for Oliver while Tom was always offering him the latest biography or mystery he had read. Tom said he liked "who did it" and "who done it" stories.

Friday night dinners at Eleanor and Tom's home became the norm for Oliver. He never knew who else would be there. Tom and Eleanor had work friends, church friends, and old and new friends. One Friday they had an "invite-a-friend" dinner. Oliver did as requested. He invited a beautiful young police officer named Dale Travers. Before long Dale too was singing in the choir and attending prayer group. Finally, the reserved, uptight, young man who seldom smiled was a little happier and even at ease. Then life blew apart.

Part Two: Blown Apart

All Oliver told Eleanor at that point was that a clown truck with a helium tank ran over a mail receptacle and exploded. "Hence, I shall be working additional hours this week. I am going to help in mail recovery for that box."

Additional hours turned into permanent hours. His postal uniform was replaced by a three-piece suit. He began declining Friday night dinner invitations. Church attendance became sporadic. Eleanor and Tom saw more of Dale than they saw of Oliver.

Somehow a damaged mailbox reinjured the already fragile heart of Oliver O'Toole. His sole purpose became mail recovery. He took restoring that which was lost very seriously. He withdrew from life again. He did not realize this withdrawal made him all the lonelier and therefore more vulnerable. It was during this time that the great snow storm hit the Denver area.

For weeks afterward the storm Eleanor did not see Oliver at all. One day he walked into her office, hands clasp behind his back.

"Oliver, good morning. It is so good to see you. How have you been? Tom and I have missed you."

"Doing well. And how are you?"

"I bought a new blender. I'm making soups you can pour in a mug and drink. Today is creamy tomato. Won't you have a mug?"

"Actually I wanted to stop by your office for a moment because I have news."

"Good news I hope."

"I believe it is. This past weekend I - married a - fascinating woman."

"Oh my, that is news," said Eleanor taken completely by surprise. "And who is the lucky bride?"

"Her name is Holly. I realize that it was a – a bit sudden," he said raising his eyebrows and mustering courage to defend what he knew was a rash action. In typical fashion Eleanor Van Teasdale offered no reproach or judgement. Her heart like her arms was always open.

"Tom and I want to meet her. Please bring her to dinner. We will have a party and invite the choir!"

"Oh no. That won't be necessary. We are – very – busy right now with being - newly married. But I do hope to introduce you one day."

Taking his hands in hers and looking at his shiny new wedding band Eleanor said," Honey, I wish you every happiness. Tom and I will pray to that end." And pray Tom and Eleanor did. While they did not know everything about the reserved, cautious Oliver O'Toole, they knew that this most significant of decisions was made in haste and a decision unlike the man of faith for whom they cared deeply.

Eleanor and Oliver resumed their morning ritual of greeting each other at the clock. Unfortunately, after his marriage to Holly he remained distant. He completely stopped singing in the choir and rarely attended church. When he did come to church, he came alone.

Eleanor once saw him down the hallway just outside the doors of the DLO having a conversation with an overtly flirtatious redhead who suddenly threw her arms around him and kissed him. Eleanor assumed the voluptuous beauty was Mrs. O'Toole. Still she was surprised by the public display of affection even if it was initiated by the woman. The entire scene was the quite unlike the Oliver that she and Tom knew.

That was the only time Eleanor ever caught as much as a glimpse of Holly O'Toole. Learning that Oliver and Holly were about to leave for vacation in D.C., Eleanor encouraged Oliver to bring Holly to dinner as soon as they returned. This time she added that it would be just for the four of them hoping that something more intimate would make them feel freer to come. However, upon returning from vacation Oliver declined again. He explained that Holly had an opportunity to study in Paris and would be away for a while.

Being a man of integrity but also a private person, Oliver was torn over his half-truth concerning Holly's absence. A part of him wanted to be forthcoming with Eleanor, but he couldn't bring himself to divulge the truth. Speaking it made it seem more real, more painful. Moreover, he felt ashamed to tell the happiest married couple that he knew that he was failing.

Part Three: Buffer Against the Breeze

When the unexpected marriage of the suit-wearing postal bachelor first occurred, the news spread quickly through the Denver Main Branch. Practically every single woman working there kept an eye on the left hand of Oliver O'Toole. News of his changing demeanor and his wife's disappearance spread more quickly. The chief center of gossip was the second-floor ladies lounge. A notorious trio from sorting couldn't wait to take their break this particular Monday. The conversation began before they could push through the lounge doors.

"I used to see her struttin' down the hall in her stilettos. All I know is he went on vacation and I ain't seen her since."

"I heard she ran off to Peru or was it Portugal?"

"I think she ran off with Todd."

"Todd?"

"Yeah, you know the guy in airmail."

"Are ya kiddin' me?"

"Think about it. Blue Eyes comes back from vacation. She's gone. The same time – Todd's gone."

"I'd never leave if those blue eyes ever…"

"Uh, Eleanor. We didn't realize you were in here."

Stepping out of the last stall in perfect timing was Eleanor.

"Hello ladies. You are just the three women I needed to see," said Eleanor, making her way to the sink to wash her hands. "You may not have heard that Todd in airmail is no longer with us. He has been transferred – to Boulder. His lovely wife is expecting their first child and they wanted to be closer to family. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Yes, that is wonderful," came an impish reply.

"The opportunity was an answer to prayer. I would know. We prayed together. We didn't have time to do anything for him before he left. I thought we should get a gift card for the baby and mail it to them. You three would be perfect for spreading the news."

"We would be glad to help."

"Thank you. There is a jar in my office for anyone who wants to contribute. Todd is such a good man and loves his wife so dearly. All he could talk about before he left was the birth of their child. Delightful, right?"

"Yes, Eleanor."

"Isn't it a pleasure to be able to go around sharing such good news about good people? It is such a pity that some waste words spreading rumors based on no truth whatsoever - especially about things that really aren't any of their business in the first place."

"You are so right."

"We will take care of it."

"Thank you. It is wonderful to have co-workers you can count on. Come by my office. We'll do some blending."

While the tattling trio had the wrong the location, Eleanor was certain they were partially correct – Mrs. O'Toole had abdicated her role as wife. Three months had passed since Oliver returned alone from vacation. With each passing day he seemed more downcast. Eleanor went home that evening with intentions of talking to Tom about his reaching out to Oliver.

Part Four: Broken Hearts

Other than exchanging greetings at the timeclock in the morning, Oliver avoided Eleanor. He felt like neither bearing his soul nor pretending to be happy to his clairvoyant friend. However, as time passed he realized that he wasn't seeing her at the timeclock either. The first week he thought she may be ill, the flu perhaps. Then he assumed she was on an extended vacation. As long as she had worked at the Post Office she would have accrued a great deal of time. Finally his concern for her exceeded any desire he had for personal privacy and he went by her office.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Mrs. Van Teasdale," he says to the man sitting at Eleanor's desk;

"I'm Jack Meiransky. I'm covering for Eleanor. What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to speak with Eleanor. Recently I failed to see her at work."

"She had to take a leave of absence. Her husband is in the hospital."

"I did not realize. It is not serious I hope."

"I don't know for sure but I'm here indefinitely. It doesn't sound good. I did hear that he is in Denver Mercy."

"Thank you."

As soon as the work day ended, Oliver went to the hospital totally unprepared for what he was to find.

"I am Oliver O'Toole. I here to see a patient, Mr. Thomas Van Teasdale."

"Another one here to see Van Teasdale. That is some more popular man. I remember that the doctor had to limit his visitors. Let me see if you are on the list. What was your name again?"

"Oliver O'Toole."

"Mr. O'Toole, fourth floor room 428."

Oliver became more anxious as he impatiently waited for the elevator. Something inside told him that what he was about to face was not going to be good. Still he was unprepared.

"Come in." Oliver hears Eleanor's voice respond as he gently tapped on the door to Tom's room.

The big man with the big smile lied in the hospital bed gaunt and gray but still smiling. Eleanor was sitting in a chair by his side holding his hand.

"Honey, it is Oliver. I'm so glad you came," said Eleanor, standing as Oliver made his way into the room yet still holding onto Tom's hand.

Trying to maintain his composure and not look shocked at the what was before him Oliver said calmly, "I had missed you at work and was told I might find you here. I am terribly sorry. I did not know that Tom was ill."

"Shug, why don't you take advantage of Oliver being here and go downstairs and get yourself a fresh cup of coffee," Tom said softly, the barreling voice reduced to almost a whisper.

"Good idea. I won't be long, honey," the loving wife replied as she strained to kiss him on the forehead.

"Oliver, I'm glad you came," reaching to hold the hand of his young friend.

"Tom, I am sorry. I had no…"

"Oh I'll be fine - one way or the other. What about you? I hear you are married."

"Yes. I am married. My wife had to go to Paris but she will be back soon."

"I'm sorry I haven't had the chance to meet her."

"We will have dinner, the four of us, as soon as she returns," said Oliver, feigning confidence in both Tom's recovery and Holly's imminent return.

"Eleanor would love that," said Tom, pausing the conversation and looking away for a moment. "Let's not kid ourselves. I'm not going to make it," said Tom, squeezing Oliver's hand as best he could.

"Tom," said Oliver, interrupting.

"It's ok Oliver. It is appointed once unto men to die and then the judgement. I'm ready. You know Eleanor is my only concern. Would you check on her every now and then?"

"Of course. Tom, you and Eleanor have been so kind to me. I…."

"Let's talk about books. What you been reading lately?"

Before long Eleanor returned. Tom had grown too weary to talk and needed to rest. Oliver left the hospital room quite saddened by his visit. When Tom regained enough strength, he strocked Eleanor's hand with his thumb and began to talk.

"Shug, I asked Oliver to check up on you."

"Check up on me! Why? You aren't planning on leaving me? Who will laugh at my corny jokes? Who will harmonize with me while we clean up after those dinner parties? You better just hang on here with me. You are irreplaceable."

"Eleanor Mills Van Teasdale you are the irreplaceable one."

"Tom, I love you with all my heart. Do not worry about me. No matter, I will be fine – lost – but fine," said Eleanor, smiling and bringing Tom's hand up to her cheek. Tom winked at his beloved wife. The two stared at each other in silence for a while. The reality of what was to come was too heavy for the couple to bear. Eleanor broke the silence.

"I'm not so sure Oliver is fine."

"No Shug, I don't think so either. That is one reason why I asked him to check on you. If he thinks he is helping you, he will come around. Otherwise, I'm afraid that boy is all alone in this world."

"Tom, are you being an instigator from a hospital bed?"

"Maybe," he said with a grin.

"You know what you get when you cross an alligator with a vest?"

"No, but I'm sure you will tell me."

"An investigator."

The two laughed and laughed. It was just one of many tender moments in their marriage.

Seven days later, Tom died.

Leaving the cemetery, Oliver commented to Eleanor how bravely Tom had faced death. With eyes filled with grief but lips that smiled Eleanor said, "Death is nothing to be scared of honey. But it is something to be prepared for. Tom was prepared."

Part Four: Bereaved

Oliver kept his word to Tom. He no longer only spoke in passing to Eleanor when clocking into work. He dropped by her office on Tuesdays during break – he with a Yoo-hoo and Eleanor with whatever she was blending that week. He saw her at choir practice, Sunday mornings at church, and at occasional Friday night dinners. The first Friday night dinner without Tom was the most difficult for Eleanor. That night Oliver came early and stayed late. While putting away the last of the china, Oliver broached the hidden grief in the room.

"Eleanor, you did a marvelous job with dinner tonight. I know it must have been difficult."

"Always go on living. Never join the walking dead, honey."

Fighting tears she hugged the young man standing by her.

"Faith and hope, Oliver. Faith and hope and love. Never stop trusting, hoping, living or loving, Never, Oliver."

Part Five: Bearing Together

And so it was. Struggling, two people struggling with loss - Eleanor valiantly going forward after losing Tom; Oliver going nowhere waiting for his wife's return. Eleanor drew from a deep well of faith and tenacity. Oliver had a well of faith but the water was partially frozen. In due season it too would thaw. Days past. Months past. Two years past. Holly O'Toole remained in Paris. Then one morning, a ray of unexpected warmth strolled into the dead letter office.

"Good morning Andrea," said Eleanor, passing the supervisor in hallway.

"That is yet to be seen," griped the colleague.

"Is there a problem?"

"New hotshot employee in the DLO from DC. Seems to think 'he is some direct line operations wizard. We'll see about that!" said Andrea, snapping her fingers. With her usual contempt for politeness, Andrea blew through the nearest exit leaving Eleanor wondering about Oliver. Perhaps a new colleague was just what he needed. The next day in typical subtle fashion Eleanor began to inquire. Every Tuesday morning at fifteen minutes past ten, Oliver walked into Eleanor's office to share break with her.

"Anything new in the DLO?"

"Actually we have a new employee, Shane McInerney."

"Wonderful, you have a new friend. Invite him to church."

"He is a she. She is very – very – well I don't think I can possibly work with someone named Shane," Oliver chuckled. "She is some sort of technophile – doesn't adhere to rules very well either. Besides she is only temporary."

"Oliver. When Tom and I learned we couldn't ever have children it was rough. We both - shut down for a while. Then we decided that we could spend time being mad or sad or we could fill that hole caring about the people who were in our lives. Suddenly we looked around and there were all these wonderful people - people I had passed by for years. Don't miss what is in front of you because you it wasn't what you were looking for."

"O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't!" said Oliver with a sigh.

"Yes, the Bard was right. Don't be afraid to look."

Whether he liked it or not, right in front of him stood this new colleague and her presence was not to be ignored.

Part Six: Brimming Influence

Tuesdays at work, Thursdays at choir practice, Sundays at church, occasional Fridays at dinner, Eleanor became a more influential figure in the life of Oliver O'Toole. She wasn't like a flood, overwhelming him and washing everything away at once. She was like the morning dew, ever present but only noticed by those awake early enough to see. Eleanor had no idea how many times little things she said stuck with Oliver and affected his actions. In and of themselves they may not have seemed significant or noteworthy. Nevertheless, they guided and refreshed him along the path.

"Oliver, I won't be having Friday night dinners for a while," said Eleanor.

"Is everything all right?"

"Just wonderful. I'm going to be taking a pottery class for the next six weeks," said Eleanor.

"I didn't realize you were interested in the art of shaping earthen vessels," said Oliver.

"Tom gave me a gift certificate for classes for my birthday. We were going to take them together. He got sick and we never got to go. At first, I thought I just couldn't. But you know Oliver, you gotta learn, you gotta know, you gotta grow. So I Gotta Go! If I get any good, I'll make you a pot!"

Gift certificates. Learn. Know. Grow. Go. Eleanor's words caused Oliver to contemplate an unused gift certificate of his own. Perhaps if he had been more willing to learn, to know, to grow, Holly would be with him in Denver instead of in Paris. Still hoping for her return and his chance to make amends, he scheduled dance lessons. These lessons did not reunite him with his wife but they were steps to being united with a colleague who became a friend, who became his - his - his. Oh well. The story is getting ahead of itself.

Part Six: Baggage

Neither pottery classes nor dance classes could replace a missing loved one at Christmas. Going into the holiday was tough for Oliver and Eleanor. He faced his second Christmas without his wife, Eleanor faced another Christmas without Tom. The finality of death (this side of heaven) is undeniable. The first Christmas without her was as if she had just stepped out and would right back. The second Christmas without her made it real.

But season do change and spring came and time continued to pass for them both.

Early one Monday morning as Oliver got out of his car in parking garage, he noticed Eleanor making her way with a rather cumbersome box.

"Eleanor, please allow me," said Oliver, calling across parking level C.

"Oh thank you. It really isn't too heavy," said the independent woman.

"No need for you to carry this when I am here," said Oliver taking the box from her.

"You know the only thing too heavy to carry?" asked Eleanor.

"An elephant?" quipped Oliver, preparing for one of her corny jokes.

"No. but that's a good one," chuckled Eleanor. "The only thing too heavy to carry is a grudge."

Just then they reached the doors of the post office and the faces of fellow employees. That was one pithy saying that stung. Coincidence is the middle name of the Almighty. Oliver had some baggage weighing him down. Oliver was glad that conversation had ended. Two hours later Oliver stepped in the hallway to face his dad talking to Shane - speaking of heavy baggage.

The return of Joe O'Toole and the shocking news of his parentage further rocked the world of the steady mail recovery agent. In those next turbulent days he was surrounded by the support of Rita, Norman, and Shane. Newly freed from the contract of marriage he allowed himself to rest on Shane more than he possibly would have previously. With everything happening Oliver missed his Tuesday break with Eleanor. After all, someone he needed more than Eleanor had returned to his life – his dad.

With the end of his heart-breaking marriage and the beginning of being reconciled with his dad, Oliver sat down some heavy baggage.

Part Seven: Babble

The fact that the suit wearing postal detective was no longer wearing a wedding band also made it to the second-floor lounge before Oliver made it to Eleanor' office.

The gossiping trio from sorting were slow learners.

"Did ya hear?"

"No but I saw?"

"Saw what? Hear what? Why am I the last one to know everything?"

"No. Weddin'. Band."

"Who? Somebody got married without a band. So just use a DJ."

"No silly. Blue-eyes with the ties – No. Weddin'. Ring."

"Oh yeah. I may have to take a letter to the D.L.O. today."

"Wish I looked better in this blue uniform. I'd offer him some…"

"Good morning ladies." Eleanor abruptly interrupted.

"Eleanor ya scared me to death. You oughta warn people or somethin.'"

"Good morning Eleanor."

"How is everyone today?"

"All good. And you?"

"Oh, I was just thinking about an old saying. Maybe you can help me. I believe it was fools rush, fools rush…"

"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread?"

"Yes, that's it. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. Why don't you three come by my office. We'll do some blending." And out the door she went repeating the phrase.

Part Eight: Breakthrough

No, Oliver had yet to share all of his news with Eleanor. However, by the end of the work week he was at her office door.

Tapping on the door he said, "May I come in."

"Oliver, good to see you. I was just about to leave. Come on in."

"I'm sorry I missed seeing you this week. I had some – unexpected – situations arise."

"Oh, is everything alright?"

"Yes, actually I. believe. it is. First I have some good news. My - my father has returned to Denver. I am very happy that we will be spending time together."

"That is good news."

"Now I have some – other - news. I wanted you to know that - that my marriage is over. My wife came to Denver but has already returned to Paris. I recognize that is a significant vow that I'm afraid I cannot keep. I assure you that…."

Before he could continue, Eleanor walked forward and took both of Oliver's hands in hers. "Honey, some vows, though serious, cannot be kept. They certainly can't be kept alone. I'm very sorry you went through that great hurt. Are you going to be alright?"

Oliver nodded. This woman whose marriage was beautiful, who was parted from her husband only in death, expressed no condemnation, no judgement. She expressed only compassion and concern.

"I know it is too soon now, but one day I hope you find that God-sent soulmate. You are a good man Oliver O'Toole.

And I am so happy your dad is here! Tell him to come by. We'll do some blending."

"Thank you," said Oliver. "He once worked for the post office you know."

"He did?"

"Yes,…."

The two walked arm in arm out to the parking garage. Oliver escorted Eleanor to her car – laughing and talking all the way. She could already see a change in him.

"Oliver, did you hear the one about the policeman who pulled over an old man in a pickup truck because the bed of his truck is full of ducks?. The officer says, "Sir, it is unacceptable to have this flock of ducks downtown, take them to the Zoo this instant! The old man confirms that he will and drives off. The next day the officer sees the same man in the same truck still full of ducks. Only this time all the ducks are wearing sunglasses. The officer pulls him over again and yells, "I told you to take these ducks to the Zoo!" The old man replies, "I did! But now the little buggers want to go to the beach!"

Eleanor stood toe to toe with the stubborn finality of death that is this side of heaven. She stood by faith in the hope of eternal life. She did not grieve as one having no hope. For Eleanor it was another season of learning how to go on without someone with whom she was one flesh. It was learning how to live with appreciation for all those good days together and learning how to see the good in each new day now.

For Oliver, this spring was a season of changes. For one relationship, there were irreconcilable differences; for another relationship, there was a wondrous reconciliation. Once again in the midst of these changing seasons, Eleanor's words – unbeknownst to her –were divinely delivered.

Part Nine: Boldness

As the two grew closer Eleanor became a little more direct in her comments concerning Oliver's love life or lack thereof. She did have some idea of the growing importance of Shane McInerney to Oliver O'Toole. The sparkle in his eyes and the frequency with which he spoke of her were the biggest clues. As far as Eleanor was concerned this good man made a bad decision when he was younger and it had already cost him dearly. It was time for him to rejoin the land of living, and to find that special someone.

"Oliver, I didn't expect you to see you on this floor today. What brings you to passports?"

"My colleagues and I are going on holiday to Washington D.C. for the Miss Special Delivery Pageant. As you know our Rita is representing our fine state. I just wanted to speak before we left."

"Wonderful! Have you made plans for sightseeing and dinners?"

"Yes, we have thorough and coordinated itineraries for the trip."

"You know Tom and I loved D.C. especially in the springtime."

"I believe that Ms. McInerney mentioned that she values D.C. in the springtime."

"Oh, Ms. McInerney does?" said Eleanor, having a little fun at her friend's expense.

Oliver replied only with a sheepish grin.

"Well, D.C. has beautiful, romantic restaurants – even dinner cruises along the Potomac. I just mean it would be a pity not to take advantage of every opportunity that great city offers," Eleanor continued as she watered her potato. "You know when opportunity knocks you need to open the door."

"Well, we have a rather full itinerary," keeping his cards close to his vest.

Cupping her ear with her hand and with a sly smile Eleanor asked, "Honey, did you hear that?"

"Pardon, hear what?"

"Opportunity. I'm sure it's knocking."

Both parties chuckled. Oliver blushed.

"Go have some fun Oliver."

"Thank you, Eleanor."

"And Oliver, don't let opportunity pass you by."

When the POstables returned from D.C. Oliver shared with Eleanor as much of their trip as national security would allow. All he said about dinner was that he and Miss McInerney did share a sandwich together. They were rather busy and just had no time for dinner.

Seasons and holidays continued to come and go with Eleanor learning to live without Tom and Oliver learning to live again. So let's just cut to the chase. What role did Eleanor Van Teasdale play in the disastrous dinner and the following invitation?

Part Ten: Building Blocks

It had been a particularly cold January. Eleanor's big Friday night dinner parties had become fewer and farther between. However, with snow falling late on a Friday, Oliver went by her office just to "check on her."

"I was just about to leave," said Eleanor, wrapping her scarf around her neck.

"You aren't going to drive in this. Are you?" asked Oliver, a bit embarrassed by his own boldness.

"I took the bus this morning. The weatherman, you know Ramon, told me I may not want to drive. I thought I would take the bus home and walk the last block."

"That won't be necessary. Please allow me."

"I happen to have a crockpot full of soup in the house. If you don't have plans," said Eleanor.

"That sounds lovely. Shall we?" said Oliver, offering her his arm and his smile.

Oliver the chauffeur and Eleanor the hostess both left the Denver Main Branch happy in the warmth of each other's friendship. The minute they entered the house the smell of homemade soup greeted them.

"Come on. We'll eat in the den by the fire. Would you open those two TV trays? You will have to excuse the mess. I was going down memory lane."

On the coffee table was a pale green cardboard storage box and plethora of old cards, letters, and photos.

"Although we were married and living under the same roof, Tom always mailed my birthday cards and Valentine's cards. He thought he was being funny because I worked at the Post Office."

"And they are all homemade?"

"Most of them are. He was no artist but he was a great husband. It showed how much he cared – the time and thought he put into everything. Sometime he would try to be poetic. Those were the worst," said Eleanor laughing. "He would be so funny trying to hide when he was working on them. I once caught him in the pantry with a flashlight and box of crayons." Her eyes told Oliver that she was somewhere else right now.

"How did you two meet?"

"We met at the Post Office."

"In passports?"

"No. I started out working at the counter selling stamps, taking mail you know. - right after high school. He came in one day and bought one stamp to mail a bill I think it was. Then he just kept coming – buying one stamp at a time. Finally, I said, "You know you can buy a book of these." And he said, "But then I wouldn't get to see you."

"He was waiting on me when I got off work. He asked if he could take me to dinner and I said yes. We went to the old Denver Diner. It was on Downing before it relocated. They had a juke box and you could dance. That's the first time we danced together. One year later we were married. I finished my associates degree at the community college and eventually went to work in passports. Tom had a good job with Lockheed Martin. We had a good life. I treasure every day we had together."

"That's a wonderful story, Eleanor," said Oliver.

"I'm glad he didn't keep just buying stamps," Eleanor chuckled. "Honey, life is short."

That evening Oliver went home to an empty, quiet house. He sat by the fire sipping a gin and tonic and recalling another restaurant that had relocated, another juke box, and another first dance. He got up and walked over to a shelf filled with LP's. Soon Hepburn herself was serenading him with Mercer's lyrics and Mancini's unforgettable melody.

He pondered why even from the beginning he freely divulged his deepest hurts and lowest moments to this unexpected interruption in his life. He remembered she was wearing dark blue that night because he can still see how her blue eyes glistened with hurt over words he threw out far too carelessly and callously. He remembered how easily it was to be sorry for her pain. He had never wanted to embrace a stranger quite like he did her. But was he ready really to care for her?

He sipped his gin. He thought about photographs of a very young Eleanor smiling up at her young husband – of the two of them dancing together. That thought made him smile. He considered the many pictures of happiness Eleanor had saved only in her memories. He wondered if he was spending too much time buying stamps. Was he ready to make a memory?

The truth was he already carried memories of her nearer to his heart than he wanted to admit. He thought about the countless time she pushed the envelope – was brazenly manipulative – only to be right. He shook his head. He looked across at the fire and there she was at that silly movable desk, hacking away, determined to find answers for someone she had never met. Just thinking about the night they danced alone in the DLO still made him uneasy – made his pulse quicken. The album's shift to the theme song from Charade jolted him from his musings. He had spent enough time thinking of her for now.

He arose from the couch and took his empty glass into the kitchen. He dismissed further thoughts of her and went on about his evening. Since returning from D.C. he had become a master of compartmentalization – at least where she was concerned. But once again Eleanor's words wouldn't let go – the thought of her wouldn't let go.

His conclusion to all his contemplation manifested itself a few weeks later with a homemade valentine that included a dinner invitation. With all the artistic talent of Tom for making a card and no fear of being caught by anyone, Oliver cut and recut heart after heart. There were exactly seven rough drafts of the note that went inside before he decided the first one was best after all. He convinced himself the evening was merely for the sake of good company, stimulating conversation and the opportunity to dance.

But then she answered the door.

Part Eleven: Blame Game

That evening just getting dressed had been a challenge. Oliver had retied his tie three times and completely changed his pocket square. He found himself taking deep breaths and exhaling – often. On the drive over to her house he kept telling himself, "We are just going to have a lovely dinner. It is only Ms. McInerney."

He scuffed the toe of shoe going up the steps and was looking down at the marred shoe when she opened the door. Suddenly, she was right in front of him.

"Good evening Oliver."

"Uh good evening," said Oliver, as he swallowed hard looking completely lost for a moment.

"Is everything alright?"

"Just fine. Everything is fine. I'm fine. The weather fine," he said, stammering and chuckling a bit. "Well, it is a bit cool but no rain. At least they are not forecasting any inclement weather for this evening." Oliver had not moved. He just stood on the porch, in front of her door.

"Shall – we – get – in the car?" she asked.

"Oh yes, of course."

"I sound like Ramon giving a weather report. What is wrong with me?" he thought as they walked to the car. She was stunning. His heart was pounding. Suddenly this felt nothing like buying stamps. He hadn't been this nervous since – well – high school prom. "What the Sam Hill have I done?" As they drove to the restaurant, he kept telling himself "dinner, dialogue, dance, dinner, dialogue, dance."

At first the evening was benign enough. Shane was at ease and she put him at ease. As hard as he tried, he couldn't help but notice things about her – things you don't notice when you are having dinner with just a friend. He was electrified by the softness of her hand as he led her to the dance floor. He caught the scent of her perfume and without thinking inhaled more deeply. He had never seen her look so – elegant so - lovely. "But this is just dinner," he reminded himself.

But she was kind and calm and gently smiling. She was aglow. "It was perfect," she said referring to his misshapen heart. But in spite of all the beauty of the moment, caution and nagging doubt seeped into Oliver's mind and heart like fog overtaking a moonlit night.

Their conversation took a confessional turn. She revealed that she had jogged by a gentleman's house and saw him drinking a glass of wine and reading a book. He wasn't pleased being caught in the web of her curiosity. His eyes said it all. This was an invasion of privacy. But how could he not accept her tender, sincere apology and offer his own for the error of his ways as well. In that moment he looked into her eyes and was starving for what he saw. But he was too afraid to partake.

"Breathe," he told himself. His goal for the night became control – control of his feelings and of his fears. But every time he thought that he had regained control something else went wrong.

The night wore long. Why was it so hot? The proposal of practicing dance together sounded more like an armistice than an invitation to have fun.

Maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was the music, maybe it was the way she looked by candlelight but the desire to take her hand, just to touch her was overtaking him. "I only dance with you." The pull of her presence was overriding the pull of his own insecurities. As the couple danced before them he could feel every time the two of them had danced together. Why was tonight so difficult when every dance before had come far too easily? Sensory memory filled his thoughts like lyric and melody now filling the room: the softness of her hair brushing his cheek; the way her eyes lost themselves in his; the way her body felt pulling her out of a dip; their rhythm, their steps, their clear longing for each other, their trust. Trust. "Trust her. Trust your heart," screamed his thoughts so loudly that for a moment he failed to hear the music. There she sat across from him. She was the loveliest lady in the room. She was just right there within fingertip length of him. The only thing separating them was - a gulf of fear.

Then it ended. The night ended.

After he dropped her off his mind questioned his every move. "Why did I start quoting lyrics to a love song as we danced? How was I supposed to know that she knew how it was supposed to end? Why couldn't she let me determine the ending – of the song – of the night? Why couldn't the server just do her job and take our order? I came to share stimulating conversation. I would have settled for mildly interesting conversation. I didn't go there to define a relationship as just friends or otherwise. And why in the world did I ask about that rose and follow up talking about dead pets for fertilizer? And she said Lester was an idiot. I am the idiot! Why was the restaurant so crowded? Chatter and clatter and music and meddling waiters! How is a man supposed to think clearly with all this?"

Disappointment welled within him. Whether he was ready to admit it he wanted a little more from the evening than just conversation. He was a grown man. He wanted to be the first to take her - yes, to take Shane McInerney - to the finest restaurant in Denver. He wanted to be the one to take her someplace special. He didn't expect to be third in line behind the likes of Lester Kimsicle and Steve Marick. He was conflicted and flustered. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Yes, it was supposed to special but it also was supposed to be simple – dinner, dialogue, dance - not dinner, dialogue, disaster. His insides were whirled peas. He was exhausted.

Going home the conversation was nothing Shakespeare would have deigned to write. Zip codes!

By that point the objective was survival. Oliver's method of surviving was to retreat to the familiar.

He went home that evening thoroughly frustrated. He removed his coat, loosened his tie, and poured himself a rather stiff drink. Rehashing the dinner yet again, he blamed the server for ruining the evening with her inappropriate verbosity. It set them on a collision course – an absolute collision course. He blamed Ramon. Why was Ramon always showing up and telling him what to do? Shane was right. It was weird. He blamed Shane for having the audacity to think it was a date and to push him - there in public – for answers. Why couldn't they all just leave well enough alone!

But for that single tear falling on her check, for that teardrop, he blamed himself. Deep down he knew he had bungled the evening. He bought a stamp for a letter for which he was unprepared to mail.

Part Twelve: Begin Again

The next morning he didn't want to go to church. He was out of sorts. He would go anyway. The choir was already short a tenor. As hard as he tried to be fully present his mind and his heart weren't there. He really didn't want to hear the Reverend's annual Valentine's sermon on love. It wasn't until the benediction that the minister caught his attention.

"And as you go remember the words of Henri Nouwen, …love is stronger than fear, life stronger than death, hope stronger than despair. We have to trust that the risk of loving is always worth taking."

The choir exited the chancel to nothing less than the jubilant sound of the pipe organ dancing with the notes of the Toccata from Widor's Symphony for Organ, No. 5. Caught by the incredible glory of the piece, Oliver dropped back to listen a moment shutting out all other thoughts. Even when he finally entered the choir room the notes of the organ could still be heard in the distance.

"Eleanor, we're trying to decide, The Carousel or Brittons for lunch?" asked Beth.

"I think I'll pass. I'm a little tired. Oliver, do you mind giving me a ride home?"

"No. I will be glad to. It is raining. Let me get the car."

Eleanor noticed the minute Oliver entered the choir room before the service that Oliver wasn't himself. As she waited on him to get the car, she did what she had done too many times to count – she wondered what Tom would do. "Well Tom, what do you think? He needs help. Yes, that's what I think too," she said to herself. Then she prayed, "Father, Help me help him." Just then Oliver pulled up the car and Eleanor got in.

What Oliver didn't know was that Eleanor already knew he had taken Shane to Montaldo's. She knew about the homemade invitation too. Neither Rita nor Norman could keep a secret. One look was all it took and Eleanor realized the evening had not gone well. His tie was askew and he wasn't wearing a pocket square. He looked as if the weight of world was on his shoulders.

"Thanks for the ride, Oliver. I hate to be a wet blanket on a rainy day but I just wasn't in the mood to eat out."

"That's fine. I wasn't planning on going out to lunch either."

"How was your weekend?"

"Fine."

"I heard you had a date."

"Oh no. It wasn't a date. We just had dinner."

"Then how was your dinner?"

"Fine."

"Oh good grief. Did she tell the world?" Oliver thought to himself.

"I saw Rita and Norman together in the supermarket yesterday and they were under the impression that you had a date – a date with Shane McInerney."

"Well, impressions can be mistaken," chuckled Oliver nervously.

"I have certainly made my fair share of mistaken impressions. Oh my," Eleanor offered with a laugh. "I guess that's why it's so important to give people a second change. Sometimes the hardest person to give a second chance is yourself."

The car grew suddenly quiet. The only sounds were the rhythmic beating of the wipers, the patter of rain, and the occasional swish of a passing vehicle. Soon the car pulled to a stop in the driveway. The two shared a smile. The rain ceased. In spite of Eleanor's protest, Oliver got out to open her door and walk her to her house. He was a gentleman after all.

"Honey, thanks for the ride," said Eleanor.

"You are always welcome."

"Would you like to come in?"

"Not today. Maybe next time."

Oliver embraced his caring friend and then turned and walked away. Once again Eleanor's words stayed with him. "Sometimes the hardest person to give a second chance is yourself."

Oliver went once more to his big, quiet, empty house. His mind was filled with thoughts about second chances. He sat down on the sofa not bothering with lunch. "What's past is prologue. Oh dear Shakespeare, is it?" he said, picking up his copy of The Tempest from the coffee table. "And what of the fair Miranda. Does she play chess?"

He leaned back into the corner of the brown, leather sofa and rested the book on his leg.

"What am I going to do?"

Once again his mind filled with images of her from last night – no words, no sounds, just the memory of the way she looked – smiling, listening to him, watching the performers, dancing. Before he realized it, he fell asleep only to wake an hour later with her as his first thought.

Blessing and Benediction

We all know how the week panned out. Somebody stole a bunch of mail. Oliver and his dad saved the day. The beautiful Dale Travers who couldn't keep her hands off of Oliver returned. And Shane spent a fortune on the cake of second chances from Montaldo's. Oliver remembered the Bible verse often quoted by his grandfather, "God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of love, and courage, and a sound mind." He came to his senses, invited Shane to dinner, and called it a date.

What one may not have considered was that Eleanor was not at the party nor was she at church Sunday morning. Concerned about her, Oliver finally discovered her Sunday afternoon in her office at work.

"Why Oliver, I didn't expect to see you here today."

"I had some paperwork to complete and I did not want it waiting for me first thing Monday," said Oliver, not wanting her to think that was just checking up on her.

"Me too. Well, I'm glad you're here. I just made a smoothie. Want some?"

"No thank you. We missed you at Dudley's party last night. It is not like you to miss church."

"You caught me. I wasn't feeling well and left work early Friday so I decided to come in today and catchup. I would hate for someone's passport to be delayed because of me."

"Are you – feeling - better?"

"It's nothing a good night's sleep won't cure," she said with a smile. "How was the party?" she asked, wanting to change the subject.

"It was very festive. I actually did ask Ms. McInerney out – on - a date."

"Honey, that's terrific! I like Shane. I haven't been around her much but she just – sparkles."

Oliver sparkled a little just hearing Eleanor say that. "I think so too."

"Oliver, sit down. Let's talk a minute."

Caught by the serious tone of his friend's voice, Oliver immediately pulled the chair from the corner of the room to the side of Eleanor's desk.

"I have a confession to make. I know Tom asked you to check up on me. What you don't know is he did that for you. He was worried that you were alone and weren't coming around much. It was his way of – of trying to help."

Oliver looked down and smiled. Of one thing he was certain, Eleanor and Tom had done far more for him than he had ever done for them.

"Oliver, you aren't alone anymore," said Eleanor leaning forward. "Oh, you've always had Rita and Norman. But now you have your dad and I have a feeling that this won't be your last date with Shane," she said pausing to allow Oliver to agree. He shrugged and laughed.

"What I'm trying to say is – don't worry about me. You don't need to check up on me anymore. Everything is going to be just fine."

"I don't know what to say," replied Oliver.

"Honey, you don't have to say anything."

"Wait, I do know what to say. I want to say thank you. I will always value our friendship. But I might have to keep checking up on you regardless," chuckled Oliver.

"Oliver O'Toole, you're a good man. Now go on – I have work to do," said Eleanor with full warmth and a smile.

Oliver left Eleanor working that day not knowing that would be their last visit. Eleanor died early the next morning of a massage heart attack. When Eleanor's estate finished probate a box of albums was delivered to Oliver with the following note.

Dear Oliver,

Tom and I wanted you to have these when I no longer had need of them. I was thrilled to find a kindred spirit who would listen to me talk about these old songs. Tom and I danced to most, sang to many, and laughed and cried to some. I hope you enjoy them. I hope you find that special someone to share them with – to dance through life with. If you have received them, you know that Tom and I are dancing and laughing together once again.

Until that day when we shall all sing and dance together,

Eleanor in passports