Third Thoughts
By Felicia Ferguson
Author's Note: Yes, I should be writing on the novel, but I just finished another binge of the episodes, and Oliver's letters to Holly popped back in my head (landing the expansion of Second Thoughts on both the physical AND mental request list, Robin, and thereby increasing its importance, LOL).
I had originally planned for the rest of Oliver's thoughts on his letter to Holly to be one multi-chapter story, but I decided to break it into two singles given the time lapse and not having the time to undertake another long time-jump piece like Days of Mail and Roses. Hence, Third Thoughts, and the upcoming Fourth Thoughts.
Third Thoughts covers the rest of A Hope and a Future. Fourth Thoughts will be set during the beginning of From Paris With Love, but will pull from For Christmas. And then FINALLY, hopefully, Oliver's letters to Holly will be settled in the muse's brain, lol. Third Thoughts was supposed to be DLO playtime, but dang it if it didn't turn into skill building—painstaking and painful character skill building. Episode Oliver is a tough nut to crack and Writergirl is now TIRED! But I hope it ends up being one of those "hurts so good" reads.
Oh, one final note: I would definitely recommend re-reading Second Thoughts before this one to get back into Episode Oliver's head.
Canon Discrepancy Note: While researching this story, I realized there is an unexplained timeline issue with Shane and Oliver that I never noticed during the sixty+ previous viewings. Tuesday morning, she and Oliver go to the hospital to meet Joshua (who says he has a surgery at ten as his excuse to leave). Shane's next scene is back in the DLO with Rita discussing Oliver's attendance at the parking meeting and Norman's gift. Then the next Shane scene has her and Oliver returning to the DLO (she has her purse in her hand) and relaying the results of visiting Joshua to Norman and Ardis. Now, the Norman question is fair because he's been with Ardis all morning and hasn't seen them. But where did Shane and Oliver go if they'd already returned from attempting to deliver the letter to Joshua? Writer-girl, was NOT pleased with this wrench, but I think I've made it flow in the canon.
As always, I own none of the characters nor any of the conversations you recognize. They belong to the magnificent Martha Williamson, Eric Mabius, Kristin Booth, Yan-Kay Crystal Lowe, Geoff Gustafson, and Carol Burnett. Enjoy, POstables! And please let me know your thoughts.
1/1
Rita's selection of the letter about Joshua proved more providential than usual for Oliver. Not only did it redirect the tension between himself and Ms. McInerney generated by his request for Holly's address. But it also offered even further distancing from the reality of his absent wife through the revelation of Norman's grandmother and focused them both on the greater good of one much dearer to their hearts.
Satisfied with the turn of events, Oliver led the team to All Saints and Angels Church with alacrity, hoping for a solid lead in the new investigation. However, when that lead hit a legal brick wall, he found himself once again in the middle of his current conundrum: his letter to Holly.
After re-entering the DLO, the team had each returned to their regular postal duties while they waited for Joshua to call. In the quiet hours, Oliver's gaze, as it often and unconsciously did, strayed to Ms. McInerney where she sat behind her desk clicking away at … whatever. Over the last few months, they had built an effective, if somewhat avant-garde, partnership on which he had come to rely in the delivery of lost and dead letters.
He reluctantly admitted that partnership had grown into something of a friendship despite his protest on the Little Switzerland porch. And that friendship, he was coming to realize, held definite undertones of something of a deeper, more personal nature.
She tucked a lock of hair back over her shoulder as she bit her lip, studying her screen of information with focused intent. The disconcerting, unnamed sensation again flickered across Oliver's heart, and he was now forced to admit the sensation was only associated with Ms. McInerney. Whenever his thoughts turned toward her. Whenever he caught her eye in a moment of teasing. Whenever she smiled with just that certain grin. Then he would feel it.
As much as the sensation discombobulated him, he'd come to savor the moments of its existence. If this kept up, it couldn't be long before she created a Ms. McInerney-sized space in not only his work life but also his personal one.
His eyes dropped away from her at the thought. No, it was too late. She had already carved such a space for herself there. A space which only grew larger by the day. He returned his gaze to her, and winced. Soon, that Ms. McInerney-sized space might even overtake the ice around his heart and then what would he do? He was still married to someone else. He was not free to embark on any matter of the heart with Ms. McInerney.
She shifted in her seat, and Oliver tore his gaze from her seconds before she lifted her eyes from the screen. He forced himself to instead look at the clock, pushing the disconcerting thoughts back into the nether regions of his mind. "Norman, I believe you should be heading to the Mailbox Grille. Your grandmother will be arriving soon."
Norman flicked his eyes from the clock to Rita, then, Ms. McInerney, before landing on Oliver. His mouth worked around silent words as his fingers fidgeted. After a moment, he found his speech. "Would you go with me? I mean … would all of you … go with me?"
Oliver nodded without the slightest hesitation. "Of course."
Rita beamed with pride and bobbed her head in a shy nod of agreement while Ms. McInerney grinned her support. Norman sighed, then flashed a brave smile. The trio made their way to the DLO doors, Rita offering soothing encouragement as they walked.
As the doors closed behind them, Oliver stood and pulled the letter to Holly from his suit coat pocket. He studied the stamps and the carefully written address. It was ready to send. He should have dropped it in the outgoing bin at International Shipping on his way to the department meeting, but he had not. Why?
He had accepted his responsibility. He was honoring vows he had made to the woman who was his wife, making the letter's contents correct for his current state of being.
The envelope was appropriately stamped and correctly addressed. It would arrive at its destination.
And although the brief side trip might have delayed his arrival to the department meeting, he had previously been late for meetings without any recourse.
So what then was the root of his hesitation? His gaze once again shifted to Ms. McInerney's desk. His lips lifted as his memory recalled all the images of her sitting behind it, catching his eye and smiling. The unnamed sensation wrapped up with happiness swirled through him. But then, concern pricked at him. Already the mere mention of Holly slathered the air between them with tension. Could he and Ms. McInerney still work together, still be partners and friends, if the woman who was his wife in name became his wife in reality? And what about the deep, personal feelings Ms. McInerney obviously possessed for him?
His stomach clenched. He returned his gaze to the envelope. Was he ready to take the risk of not only ending a thriving work partnership, but hurting a woman who seemed to value him more than as a coworker? Was that the real reason for his hesitation in sending the letter? The questions tumbled through him, picking away at the ice around his heart.
The DLO doors squeaked open. Oliver's eyes flicked from the letter to the doors then back again. Tucking his hands and the letter behind him, he took a fortifying sniff and rose on his toes. Lifting his brows in a forced welcome, he turned his gaze to the new arrival.
Ms. McInerney stood just inside the doors, concern mingling with curiosity. "Aren't you coming, Oliver?"
His lips parted as he stepped further behind the invisible wall of formality. "Ah, yes. I just need a moment to finish up here. I'll join you shortly."
Ms. McInerney's cheeks flinched in an understanding wince, then she nodded and, with another searching look, left once again.
A long, slow breath slipped between his lips, deflating the formality but returning the whirl of questions to the fore. After a moment, he pulled open the top drawer of his desk and tucked the letter inside. Perhaps tomorrow would be the right time to send it.
##
Tuesday morning, Oliver greeted Ms. McInerney and Rita as he pushed through the DLO doors, ready to finish another delivery and reunite a family. "Ms. McInerney, are we on schedule for delivering the letter to Dr. Davis?"
She glanced up from her screen, flashing him that familiar, welcoming smile, and chipped yet another hole into his icy armor. The odd, disconcerting sensation flared, warmed, then disappeared. Jarred by its new depth of feeling, he pulled his professional demeanor around him like another suit coat and lifted his brows with distanced interest. Her smile dimmed slightly, but she rose and grabbed her coat.
"Yes, his nurse said he's at Denver Mercy for a day of surgeries, but if we can get there before nine, then he'll be able to see us."
Oliver rose on his toes. "Excellent, then Rita, in the absence of Norman, it will be up to you to hold down the fort. I have a meeting here at ten so we will certainly be back before then."
Rita's face grew solemn as the weight of the duty fell on her shoulders. "I will do my best, Oliver."
Oliver's lips lifted in a genuine smile, and he extended his hand toward the door. "Then, Ms. McInerney, shall we?"
She nodded and, with a quick look to Rita, proceeded out the door. They made their way to Oliver's Jag in silence, Ms. McInerney glancing to him, then away, as curious as she was silent on whatever topic piqued her. As they slid into their seats, she took in a breath and Oliver braced himself for the question.
"How do you think it's going with Norman and Ardis?"
Oliver sniffed as he put the Jag in gear and backed out. That was not the question he had expected. No, he was certain her interest lay in topics of a much more personal nature for himself. However, he jumped on the subject. "I would assume they would have some moments of adjusting and getting acquainted. But Mrs. Parker Pennington Payne appeared genuinely pleased to meet Norman. So, I would think any discomfort will be of short duration."
"Yes, they were happy last night, so they should bonding well today." She grinned, and a fond light lit her eyes as she studied him.
Oliver's brow flinched. Was that look related to her contemplations of Norman or in response to his own formal evaluation of the likely situation? Opting for the latter, he let his lips curve in an answering smile. The warmth in her eyes grew as her lips parted in a wide smile. Yes, the teasing look was definitely directed to himself.
Another chunk of ice chipped away, and he grew closer to exactly naming the sensation that fluttered in his heart. He tugged at his shirt sleeve as he pushed the feeling aside once again and forced his attention to the road. Denver Mercy was only a few minutes away. And they had a letter to deliver.
##
Oliver and Shane were silent on the return to the DLO. While he was certain the news would come as a shock to Joshua, Oliver had not expected to have the letter flung back at him. But then, he knew his parentage. There was never a question as to the identities of his mother and father. What must it be like to know only adoptive parents with no idea of birth parents?
He flicked a glance toward Ms. McInerney, who was equally abstracted by her contemplations. Perhaps it would have been better to take Norman for this letter delivery? As a foster child with no knowledge of his own birth parents, he might have been able to empathize with Joshua's obvious pain and thus have created a positive outcome for the delivery.
As Oliver pulled into his parking space at the main branch, Ms. McInerney mentioned visiting the ladies' convenience before returning to the DLO. He nodded. "I will return the letter to the DLO then go to the parking meeting. You have remembered that you'll be joining me afterward for the luncheon with Direct Line Operations to welcome their new supervisor."
Ms. McInerney's cheeks flinched at the formal tone, but her eyes still softened. "Of course. I'll be ready to go whenever you are."
Oliver nodded once then headed for the DLO. He returned the letter to his desk with a glance to the undeliverables box. With no access to the birth records outside of Ms. McInerney's possible hacking, Joshua's letter could rightfully be placed alongside the other undeliverables. But something stayed Oliver's hand. No, there had to be another option. Perhaps there might be a way to return it to sender? His gaze caught on the clock. But it was a possibility that he would pursue upon his return. With a quick update for Rita on the meeting, he headed off.
##
Two hours later, Oliver walked back toward the DLO. His preference for diagonal parking was gaining traction with the other departments, but the debate had been tabled while the committee head researched the paint cost differentials between diagonal and head-in only. Now, it was time to discuss return to sender options for a letter that was never intended for the system.
Brow furrowed, he began to contemplate the efficiency of Ms. McInerney's computer, but as he walked through the DLO doors he found her not at her desk, but at … his. He blinked. What could she possibly be doing there? And had she just pushed back in his top drawer? The drawer which contained his still unsent letter to his wife. The letter which Ms. McInerney had so obviously wanted to read when they were in the vault.
Guilt and something else flickered through her eyes as she gasped. "Oliver! How … did the … parking debates go?"
Perturbed, his lips firmed and his eyes narrowed. His answer fell clipped and wary between them. "They are spirited but civil. Everyone seems to be respecting each other's … space." What were you doing in mine?
If she had indeed been looking in his top drawer, she could not have missed seeing the letter to Holly. Had she read it? And if she had, what would she think of his offer to change? Would she find him honorable or weak? Would she be hurt that he had offered to even try again with Holly?
Again, that disconcerting emotion pricked his heart. But why would he be so concerned about not only Ms. McInerney's opinion but also her emotional state? The issue of his marriage was between himself and his wife. Ms. McInerney should not be a factor. However, as he pulled open the drawer and tucked the letter in his suit breast pocket, he was forced to admit that Ms. McInerney was not only a factor, but possibly the main reason for why he had yet to send the letter.
Because she was the origin of the disconcerting sensation that had begun to plague him, tempting him with thoughts he should not be considering given his married state.
And with that realization, his original Catch-22 returned, unresolved, despite the words in the letter he held in his hand. He flicked a discomfited glance around the DLO. Ms. McInerney was thankfully diverted by Rita's musings about Norman and his possible adventures with Mrs. Parker Pennington Payne. Letter safely tucked away, Oliver tugged at his shirt cuffs and cleared his throat, effectively drawing the attention of Rita and Ms. McInerney.
"Ms. McInerney, I believe it's time for our meeting at the Mailbox Grille with the new Direct Line Operations department supervisor."
"Oh, ah, yes, of course!" She grabbed her purse then held it up between them with a flicker of a smile. "Like I said, I'm ready when you are."
Order restored, Oliver rose on his toes and curved his lips into a bland smile.
##
After another painful, albeit successful, letter delivery attempt, Oliver and Norman rushed to Denver Mercy to find Rita and Ms. McInerney asking after Mrs. Parker Pennington Payne. The nurse confirmed Norman's family status and agreed to allow one person at a time to see her, adding that her doctor would be in soon to give them a full update. She gestured to a room down the hall then returned to the nurses' station.
Norman's lips lifted in a hesitant smile of thanks then he turned to Oliver. "Would you … would you go in first? Just to … just to see …"
Empathy swelled in him, and Oliver nodded. "Of course. I would be happy to do so. But I'm certain everything is perfectly fine."
After confirming his initial read on the situation with Mrs. Parker Pennington Payne, he was taken aback by her own forthright assessment of himself.
"You know, Oliver, you could do with a little crazy yourself."
His mouth dropped open as he glanced to the floor then back to her. "Yes, that is certainly a provocative thought, but … I confess, I wouldn't know where to begin." He had only done one crazy act in his life, marrying Holly three hours after she proposed. Doing another might result in even worse outcomes than his current conundrum. But Mrs. Parker Pennington Payne was not to be diverted.
She took in a quick breath and fixed him with a considering look. "Well, you begin by doing the thing that scares you the most. What you have to do is face up to the scary, and the rest is easy."
'Face up to the scary.' Is that what she considered a crazy act? He had to agree it wasn't on the list of customary actions. After all, who wanted to knowingly face something that terrified them?
A knock on the door behind him suggested Norman had decided he was ready to join them. Oliver lifted his brows and concluded the conversation with Mrs. Parker Pennington Payne with well-wishes for her recovery. The wink she flashed him in return, though, gave him pause. She seemed to know a secret, possibly even one of his own.
His brow flickered. Was there a scary he needed to face? He felt the weight of the letter in his breast pocket. But before he could continue his contemplation, Ms. McInerney and Rita joined him in the hall. "I believe we may be here for a while. Perhaps we should go to the cafeteria for an early dinner."
Ms. McInerney watched him with curious eyes, but only nodded. He stopped at the nurses' station to apprise the staff of their whereabouts and was told they could return here to wait out the surgery if they preferred. Oliver nodded and then gestured for the ladies to go ahead.
##
Two hours later, they sat back in the hallway down from the nurses' station, stomachs full and conversations lulled by the hospital white noise. Ms. McInerney had released a huge yawn, much to her chagrin only moments before. On the heels of that yawn came another and Oliver's cheeks wrinkled in a considerate smile.
"Ms. McInerney, it might not be the most comfortable, but if you would like to rest, please feel free to use my shoulder as your pillow."
Her eyes brightened, and her lips slowly lifted in delight. "Thank you, Oliver."
As the soft weight of her head settled on his shoulder, the Ms. McInerney sensation whispered through his chest, melting yet another layer of ice. Offering his shoulder was of course the gentlemanly act to do for a lady. So why did it feel not only proper but … right?
Oliver blinked, then took an invisible step back from the feeling. Now was neither the time nor the place to contemplate it. Folding his hands together, he turned his thoughts to the hospital itself, the employees, and the situations occurring with the walls. Those were appropriate considerations given their circumstances.
##
Hours later, Oliver, Ms. McInerney, and Rita stood watching Norman, Joshua, and Matt discuss the twins' future. Oliver pondered not only the maturing Norman, but also Rita's growing affection as she voiced the caring thought of providing Norman pudding in light of his big day.
Ms. McInerney turned to watch Rita hurry off to the cafeteria and spoke her own version of his contemplations. "Do you think they'll ever tell each other how they really feel?"
His lips lifted in a small smile as he stood hands behind his back and surveyed the scene before him. "Someday, when the time is right." He turned and found her watching him. Deciding to expand on his assessment, he added, "True love cannot be held at bay no matter how hard one fights it."
He thought his words might end the conversation, allowing them to return to their quiet ponderings of the day. But he should have realized Ms. McInerney's romantic heart wouldn't be settled by such a pronouncement.
Awe mingled with a touch of sadness as she continued her observations. "It must be very exhausting. Always trying to find ways to say I love you without actually saying I love you."
Warming to the topic, Oliver's brows rose. "Well, Shakespeare did it all the time."
She huffed as a fond, teasing light lit her eyes. Again, he had amused her. And again, he was entranced. "Yes. Yes, but we can't all be poets now can we."
Poets?
Why would she have chosen that descriptor for Shakespeare? Had it been a Freudian slip? Oliver blinked as the weight of the letter in his pocket pressed against him. The warm Ms. McInerney feeling disappeared like a vapor. Had she actually seen—read—his words to Holly about her dreams of the bohemian life of artist and poet. His eyes widened and hurt flashed across his heart. "Did you read—" He tugged the envelope from his breast pocket.
Her cheeks paled, and her jaw dropped as if mortified by the thought. "No! Never."
Reassured by her blatant honesty, he pushed the letter back inside his pocket. Ready for the conversation to be concluded.
But again, she was not finished. She took in a quick breath and guilt rippled through her words. "Of course, I'm curious. We both know that. I saw it … sitting there in your desk unsealed when I was looking for tweezers."
Tweezers. Wh—
She barreled through what seemed an implausible excuse. "The point is that I didn't open it. Honestly, I'm just sorry that I ever looked up Holly's address because—"
"Because?"
"Because until that moment when I saw her name and street number, she was just a concept." An ache laced her voice as she spilled out words she'd apparently held at bay for months. "This mysterious absent wife in Paris. Now there's a real envelope in your pocket."
Oliver glanced away, trying to distance himself from Ms. McInerney's obvious pain.
Tears soaked her explanation as she seemed to lay her very heart at his feet, drawing his eyes back to hers. "That could be delivered to a real person, who could really read the poem … or the letter … the words that you've written to say … I miss you … come home … or to say … goodbye."
Ms. McInerney—Shane –wanted him to say goodbye to Holly. There was no denying it now. Her distress, the aching written plainly in her gaze simply sealed all their shared looks, their dance together in the DLO, as an offering not just of her friendship, but of her heart.
He tore his gaze from hers only to find it returning a heartbeat later. Shadows of longing flickered in her tear-filled eyes. The Ms. McInerney sensation washed over him, tugging at his own heart. Say goodbye to her and yes to me, it whispered. She doesn't love you, but I do, it continued.
Overwhelmed by the depth of emotion in her words and in her eyes, he had no answer for her silent pleas. And in his silence, she seemed to step back from the precipice between them. "But as I said, I didn't read it. And you haven't mailed it."
An edge laced her words, stabbing fitfully at him as she tried to regain control. "It's funny. Remember the day we first met. I had a letter that I was afraid to open. And now you have a letter that you're afraid to mail."
Unconsciously, he took a step closer, desperate to counter the soft accusation. "I'm not afraid … to mail this letter."
Tears again soaked her words with a deep care and concern. "Then what are you afraid of?"
That was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. And despite his earlier postulations, it remained a question to which he still had no answer. Movement caught the corner of his eye. Ms. Jacobs. Taking in a quick breath, Oliver quickly stepped back behind his professional shield and hurried toward the new arrival, offering her the solace of answered prayers and God's timing.
Not long after the mother-son reunion, the floor nurse joined them with the news of Mrs. Parker Pennington Payne's return to her room and her ability to receive visitors. Oliver glanced toward Ms. McInerney then leveled an encouraging look on Norman. He rose on his toes and allowed a friendly formality to infuse his tones. "Well, I believe it's time for another family reunion."
Norman bobbed his head then turned to find Rita returning to the lobby, pudding cup in hand.
Her cheeks pinked as she held up the cup and plastic spoon. "I got you this. Vanilla. They were out of chocolate."
Oliver flicked his gaze to Ms. McInerney at the silent display of love. Her eyes glowed, but when they glanced to him, concern dimmed the delight.
Uncertain how to respond to her concealed hurt, Oliver turned back to Rita and Norman, gesturing for them to proceed. He felt Ms. McInerney's gaze flicking to him, gauging his mood, his emotions, as they made their way to Mrs. Parker Pennington Payne's room.
But he fixed his gaze on the hallway. He needed to think. To determine his next steps. And to do that he needed her at arm's length. Despite his best efforts to remain aloof, though, something in his heart continued to reach for her. To seek out her solace, her concern, and even the depth and breadth of her feelings for him. They were a lure as captivating to him as the sirens' song to Odysseus. What would it feel like to experience such care, such lo—ah, concern, fully and regularly? What would it feel like to actually feel … anything … again?
They reached Mrs. Parker Pennington Payne's room, and this time Norman rushed through the door, eagerly clasping his grandmother's hand and waking her. Oliver watched the reunion. Watched Norman face his "scary" and grow even more. Oliver flinched then took in a quick breath. Of the two of them, Norman was the braver man.
Oliver nodded once, then slipped out of the room, leaving Ms. McInerney and Rita to savor the sweet scene. When he reached the lobby, incoming visitors dripped trails of water from squeaking shoes. He peered out the main doors, and his lips firmed in consternation. Rain poured from the sky as if offering him a way out. He stared at the mailbox currently being soaked by the deluge. He had no umbrella. No raincoat.
It was a tempting excuse.
But no.
He stepped out into the rain, and within seconds he was drenched. Water dripped down every curve and bend of his body. He placed a steadying hand on the mailbox, a touchstone of sorts, and searched for calm in his own interior storm.
He had told Ms. McInerney he wasn't afraid of mailing the letter. And that was the truth. But he was afraid of something. He couldn't deny that truth either. So what was it that scared him?
He pulled open the mailbox lever. The squeak of the hinges chilled him more than the cold rain. His pulse skirted. His breath quickened. But still, he tugged out the letter from his breast pocket. He studied the envelope. The rain splattered against the fine stationary. He needed to mail it soon before it was damaged.
He was not afraid to mail it, and yet fear continued to grip his heart.
And then as cold as the rain that pelted him, reality became clear. He was afraid of what came next. Because if Holly accepted his offer to change, then he would have to honor his words and … change. Become someone other than Oliver O'Toole, a man of books, and words, and letters. A lover of Shakespeare and the Bible. A man Shane appreciated and perhaps even loved.
But Shane was correct. He could no longer live in this limbo. He had to know one way or the other.
He lifted his gaze to the sky.
Please, Lord, make this work for good.
With that silent prayer, he shoved the envelope inside. The lever banged closed. It was done. For better or for worse.
As the rain pelted him, saturating his clothes and skin with its icy temperatures, a new sensation suddenly rippled through him. Familiar, comforting, even loving. The Ms. McInerney sensation. He turned slowly. She stood silent under the cover of an umbrella watching him with painfilled concern.
Oliver, you're soaked.
I mailed the letter.
I know … You had to … But are you okay?
I don't know … It's in God's hands now.
Sadness wreathed her features and softened her gaze. Somehow, they would find a way forward in the waiting. But it would mean each forgetting that she had just handed him her heart on a platter, and he had just refused it. Because there was no other choice right now.
She closed her eyes in a long blink, then silently extended the umbrella. And with a nod, he joined her.