Shane's Third Self-Termination
By Felicia Ferguson
Part 3
Author's Note: Given most of back third of the movie is centered around characters other than Shane, the muse had a field day adding in missing scenes for our lovely blond POstable. But that also means that as much as I thought this story would only be two parts, and then three, it's now painfully clear it'll be four in total. So, Mamalabo, the muse has bowed to your request for a longer fic after all!
As always, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Martha Williamson and the phenomenal acting of Eric Mabius, Kristin Booth, and the rest of the cast. Thank you for the opportunity to play with your toys. I will happily return them so you can create more wonderful stories for my sandbox time. Again, all added conversation occurs off camera, and internal thoughts are mine, but all conversation you recognize belongs to the magnificent Martha Williamson.
Enjoy, POstables! And remember, Spring is coming.
Shane sat on her couch and cradled her phone in her hands. She stared at the lock screen as the time flipped over. Ten o'clock. Oliver was meeting Holly. Talking with Holly. Drinking with Holly. But hopefully not hugging or kissing Holly. She tossed the phone on the couch and grabbed her TV remote. Surely, she'd missed an episode in her Netflix queue.
The credits rolled on the episode. Shane had barely followed the storyline. She glanced at her phone's lock screen again. Eleven o'clock. Were they still drinking? Still talking? Had they—? Shane shot off the couch and headed to bed. Tomorrow was still a work day.
Shane punched her pillow again, trying to fluff it as she rolled over in a frustrated search for comfortable sleep. Her phone lay on the end table, but should she check it? With a sigh, she propped herself up on an elbow and tapped the screen. Two o'clock. Did he have answers? Or had Holly invited him up—
Shane threw back the covers with a groan, stuck her feet in her bedroom slippers, and headed toward the closet. There would be no sleep tonight.
Shane took her time with her morning routine, hoping the extra attention to hair, make-up, and wardrobe would keep her thoughts from wandering. And for the most part, she was successful. Now, two hours later, she walked through the employee entrance at the Main Branch and wondered what else she could do. Spying the empty platform, she glanced around. Graveyard shift was a skeleton crew and day shift had three more hours until they clocked in. Why not?
It took less than two minutes for her to scale the ladder, her childhood tree climbing skills returning with ease and smoothing the trek despite her skirt and heeled boots. She wandered the confines, savoring the postal vista that lay below her. Talk about a bird's eye view. Forklifts hummed, skimming through the aisles moving pallets. Coworkers bobbed and weaved between mail bins delivering letters and packages to their next departments for processing. The conveyor belt flowed along, dropping and adding packages.
She watched it all, allowing the comforting familiarity to blend into a white noise of sound and sight. But her thoughts still strayed. She had told Joey the truth. And it was a truth she had begun to believe for herself. Things did happen that at first glance seemed all wrong. But having faith that something greater was at work did tend to make them work out for good. Caitlin receiving Joey's divorce papers two years late revealed and healed a buried misunderstanding, deepening a forever love.
Could the all wrong happenstance of Holly's unexpected return end up as something good for Oliver? Oliver did believe in a Higher Power. Could that Higher Power be the reason Holly returned in person rather than simply mailing a reply? Could her return reveal a truth that would lead to Oliver's forever love? A forever love with Shane?
As much as Shane loathed the idea of their meeting, maybe it was better for them to see each other again. Words on paper created a buffer hiding truths that would be easy to spot when face-to-face. Meeting in person, talking in person, would help them see how mismatched they were as a couple. And mismatched, they definitely were.
How on earth could Oliver have thought Holly loved him? Shane had spent five minutes with the woman, and it was painfully obvious Holly only loved herself. Had he been blinded by passion and the romance of their meeting? Tragedies did have a way of bonding people together and him rescuing her before her car fell off the side of the cliff would definitely qualify. But still, wouldn't the hormones have worn off during the dating and engagement, revealing the unalterable truth?
Shane walked the length of the platform, allowing her fingers to skim the railing. Something shifted in the air as a familiar sensation tickled her senses. No. Surely not. It's way too early. She turned and sure enough. It was Oliver.
She sauntered across the plywood, savoring the feeling of Oliver's presence. "Going my way?" She leaned her forearms against the railing and crossed her legs as she studied him, trying to read his mood.
Oliver blinked then looked up and, finally locating her, said, "Ah, Ms. McInerney. You're, ah, in early." His nervous glance shifted downward, and Shane felt a bit of a thrill that had nothing to do with the height. So, Oliver's a leg man. Who knew?
She shook her head, then gave a small shrug. "I couldn't sleep."
He sighed. "Neither could I."
They needed to talk, but judging by his short, jerking movements and restless gaze, it was obvious he wasn't ready to be alone with her yet. "Come on up here with me."
His nervy bark of laughter cut the air around him.
Yep. Definitely nervous. But was it due to the height or facing her after an evening with Holly? Still, he wasn't getting out of this. Keeping her tone light and non-threatening, she wooed him to do as she asked. "Come on," she encouraged. "Come on."
Oliver sighed again, but his gentlemanly bent wouldn't allow him to deny a lady's request. Slowly, methodically he climbed up, allowing Shane plenty of time to ease to the plywood flooring and drape her crossed legs over the edge. Casting her an uncertain look, Oliver scaled the last rungs then sat with a plop.
"So, do you know what you're gonna do?"
He flicked an uncertain look toward her, then cleared his throat. "I'd like to do, uh, the right thing."
Shane nodded. A pleased smile lifted her lips as she glanced away and considered his answer. Yep. He would. "You always do."
But he surprised her with his response. "No. No, I don't. I waited more than a year to send her a letter because I just . . ." He fell silent unable to form an explanation. Pain, sorrow, and even recrimination darkened his eyes. "There is so much. . . I could have done and I didn't." He took in a pained breath. "And I don't know why."
Shane's brow creased as she absorbed his agony. She knew why. And it for was a reason she'd never told anyone-not even him. "Because it hurt." Anguish soaked her words. He was such a good man, and his torment was so unfair. "It froze you up. You're like the snowman I saw in the park on my way in this morning. And he's just stuck there. Left behind by someone that made him that way. All he can do is wait for the thaw before he can change."
"But. . .then he melts."
Surprise leached through her. But his words made sense. Of course, Oliver would be afraid of melting, afraid of letting go without any idea what came next. "You haven't forgiven her yet, have you?"
Tears glistening in his eyes, he shook his head and heaved a tear-soaked sigh.
Shane knew what came next. Not that she'd done it herself. She couldn't. There was still too much anger. But at least she could help Oliver take that step. "Forgiveness is doing the right thing, Oliver. That has to happen first, and then you'll just know what to do next."
Oliver shook his head again and licked his lips. She laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, stroking the fine fabric of his suit jacket with her thumb. He was a good man. It was time for him to begin healing, and she'd sit beside him as long as he needed her.
Oliver's voice was thick with unshed tears, but he flashed her a quick, thankful smile. "You are. . . surprisingly good at this."
"Well, I learned from the best." She leaned toward him with a wide, pleased smile, savoring his compliment.
Oliver shifted his gaze to her, a question in his eyes.
Her lips widened and a teasing lilt wove between her words. "Some singing, postal detective, philosopher guy who believes in Spring and doing the right thing." She snickered at her inadvertent rhyme. "Spring-thing." But seeing the flash of hurt in his eyes, she chuckled, hoping to soothe the unintended dig. Too soon, Shane.
They sat in silence each absorbing the early morning activity until the PBX operator announced the departure of the first trucks of the morning. Shane glanced over to Oliver and smiled. They should probably start their day as well. Holly's surprise visit and the extended delivery of Caitlin's letter had put them behind on yesterday's work and Impossibly Ripped and Mangled Day was coming up soon.
Oliver cleared his throat, nodded once, and stood. Shane's smile warmed as she watched his efforts. Even clambering from such an awkward seated position, he still managed his customary gentlemanly grace.
He looked at the ladder, glanced at her stockinged legs then flicked his eyes back to hers. "How did you get up here?"
Lifting her hand toward him, she arched her brows as her lips curled in a teasing smile. "The same way you did."
Oliver blew out a quick breath as his cheeks curved, and he clasped her hand ready to draw her to her feet. Shane scooted around and bent her knees mindful of her thigh-high hose against the wooden plywood then raised her other hand. Oliver grasped both then gently pulled her to standing.
Suddenly, they stood eye to eye, a breath apart. Shane's gaze drifted to his lips as Holly's words whispered through her. That man. . .can. . .kiss. Aching to find out for herself, she wet her lips then glanced up.
Longing lurked once again the blue depths of Oliver's eyes. But so did hesitation. And that hesitation stopped her. Because it still had a name and a ring attached to it. Shane took in a quick breath and stepped back. With a murmured, "Thank you," she slipped behind him and began to climb down the ladder.
Later that morning, Rita pushed through the DLO double doors with a surprised squeak. Shane looked up from her computer and smiled. It was a rare event indeed that both Shane and Oliver beat Rita into the office. She flicked a confused look between them, but then shrugged and hung up her coat as she greeted them. Norman arrived a few minutes later, pushing a mail cart. With a nod to everyone, the POstables' day began.
At five minutes 'til nine, Oliver pushed back from his desk and rose. "Well, I'm off to the department meeting. I'll be sure to share any pertinent information when I return."
Shane looked up at his words, but it was the tone under them that captured her interest. He had planned something in the quiet of their morning work routine. Her brow flickered as he passed by her desk with an odd glance. He would tell her later. Maybe.
Three hours later, Shane sat at her computer matching up addresses to missing zip codes. Norman and Rita tossed the last of yesterday's leftovers into their bins with a quick high five and moved on to today's incoming items mail cart. Shane's eyes strayed to the clock on her computer again. Where is Oliver?
The raucous ring of the DLO's rotary phone split the air jarring the trio from their work. Shane stood and gave Rita and Norman a quick nod then answered the phone. "Oliver O'Toole's office."
"Hi, uh, this is Joey Castelluci. Is this Ms. McInerney?"
"Oh, hi. Yes, and please, call me Shane. How can I help you?"
"Well, I've put together a surprise for Caitlin tonight at the comedy club, and I know she'd love it if you and your co-workers could come. Um. I'd love it if you could all come. You're a big part of tonight."
Shane's grin widened as he gave her the details of the surprise. This was definitely a good letter delivery. Offering a ready agreement on behalf of the team, Shane ended the call and turned to fill Norman and Rita in on Joey's invitation. Excited about the evening ahead, they chatted about past comedic events with another of Norman's cousins. Shane listened with one ear as she returned to her desk and her wonderings about Oliver.
A few minutes later, Oliver pushed through the doors. Shane turned in her chair, lips curving with a teasing smile eager to pull details from him about his long absence. "That was some department meeting. Were they voting on changing the USPS colors?"
Oliver's lips twitched, but his eyes remained serious. "Uh. No. I, uh, stopped by the Mailbox Grille to make arrangements. . .for a dinner tonight. . .with Holly." He shifted his gaze toward the back of the DLO as if confirming Rita and Norman's attention was occupied then lowered his voice. "Our conversation last night over drinks left much to be desired. Perhaps after she's rested and with more time, we'll be able to discuss . . .things. . . in greater detail."
His thumb fidgeted with his wedding ring, and Shane winced, but flashed an understanding smile. It was a hard, but much needed conversation. "Well, then that means you'll miss Joey and Caitlin's big night at the comedy club." She relayed the recent phone call hoping good news might brighten his day a bit.
But Oliver only sniffed then nodded once. "Oh, yes. Please give them my regards."
"Of course." She paused then placed her hand on his forearm. "I hope you get the answer you need."
Oliver grimaced as pain glinted in his eyes. "So do I."
The day passed smoothly enough as letters were sorted, identified, and directed with a minimum of fuss, a heartening change from the personal drama that thrummed between Shane and Oliver. Shane watched him from time to time, only to look away before their gazes caught. Don't pressure him. He'll do the right thing. By both of you.
As the afternoon turned to evening and the time to meet Joey and Caitlin neared, Oliver excused himself from the event and headed out without an explanation for Rita and Norman. Accustomed to their man of mystery, neither seemed to think anything of his secrecy, much to Shane's relief.
She wanted to wish him good luck as he passed by her desk, briefcase and coat in hand, but the words caught in her throat. Luck is the religion of the lazy. Settling for an encouraging smile, she let him go without a word. Maybe tonight he would call. Or they could meet for coffee at their kiosk and sit in the park for a bit. Or swing on the swings. A pang nipped her heart. She did miss her childhood porch swing, but it was horribly impractical given the cold and snow of Denver.
Sighing, she turned off her computer and asked Norman and Rita about dinner options.
"We could go to the Mailbox Grille," Noman said. "It's right on the way, and it's the seafood special tonight."
Wonder if they're serving clams? Shane shrugged off the question. Oliver had made a dinner date with Holly there. Would he think she was spying if they ate there as well? Her concern for him overruling his possible irritation, Shane grabbed her purse. "Sure, that sounds good."
They reached the Mailbox Grille a few minutes later, but the lights were lowered and the doors were locked. Norman tugged the door as Rita read the sign. "'Closed for private event.' Well, that's odd. I've never known them to close for anyone. Wonder who it is?"
Shane bit her lip and forced a shrug, hating to lie to them, but also unwilling to share Oliver's plans told in confidence. "Well, let's walk a little further. If nothing else, I'm sure we can get bar food at the club."
Rita and Norman walked ahead, leaving Shane staring at the sign. Inching closer, she peered through the window. The couch and wood coffee table had been replaced with a linen covered table for two. A champagne bucket stood ready to be filled with ice and wine, and the candle centerpiece was waiting to be lit.
Yes. This was definitely Oliver's doing. Her romantic boss, co-worker, and love of her life would think of all these details to say goodbye to his wife. A soft smile whispered over her lips. A gentleman above all else. Movement flashed in the background snagging Shane's eyes. Angie, the barista, hurried in carrying a box of candles and glass hurricanes, setting them out at odd intervals through the restaurant.
"You coming, Shane?" Rita called from up the street.
Giving the restaurant one last look, she turned and followed them, wishing Oliver a good evening and certain he would end his torment once and for all by asking Holly for a divorce. She smiled as her unruly, romantic heart leapt and dreamed of her own future date night with one Oliver O'Toole. One day.
After Norman stepped forward to fill in for the missing emcee, wowing the crowd and blowing Rita away, Joey took the stage and spoke the most romantic re-marriage proposal Shane had ever heard. Caitlin's joy radiated and her acceptance placed the couple firmly back on their path to forever. Shane relished their obvious love until Caitlin's impromptu routine chilled her more than the icy Denver cold.
"A funny thing happened on the way to our divorce. We fell back in love."
Fear poured through her. No. It had happened with Caitlin and Joey. But it couldn't happen with Oliver and Holly.
Unfortunately, there was irrefutable proof of the possibility and probability it could.
One kiss from Oliver could change Holly's mind. One. Singular.
Then there was Oliver. When he made a vow, he kept it.
Tonight, he could change Holly's mind and continue to honor his vow until death did they part.
Grabbing her coat, Shane slipped between the club patrons and into the dark. She had to know—for better or for worse.
Her tentative steps slowing, Shane approached the Mailbox Grille. The lights were low, barely lighting the darkened sidewalk. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe their dinner was over, and they'd parted ways. Maybe it was only Caitlin and Joey who could fall back in love on their way to a divorce. Please let that be the case. Please.
But no. As she peered through the glass door, her mouth dropped open. Oliver and Holly were dancing. And dancing the steps Shane had learned with him. Steps he had taken her to task for using with Jordan last Christmas at the Postal Ball. Right down to their joint arm movement depicting the unfolding of a flower. The move her own memory had returned to as she stood holding Holly's letter on the frigid roof of the Main Branch not three days ago.
And then he pulled Holly close. Her gaze dropped to his lips as her own parted. Halting expectation lurked in her eyes.
"Don't kiss her. Don't kiss her." Shane begged, pleaded. But her words fell unheeded. And the unthinkable, the unimaginable, the worst thing that could have happened, happened.
Oh, God. . .he kissed her. Her heart shattered and scattered into pieces as tiny as the snowflakes that fell around her, but Shane still couldn't pull her eyes from the couple. From the husband and wife. From the kiss that would change the wife's mind and return her to the husband's side. Forever.
A gut wrenching, soul deep ache clenched every muscle in Shane's body. It's done. I'm done. All her hopes. All her waiting. All her love. It was all nothing. Nothing when faced with the strength of Oliver's vows and Holly's agreement to try again.
Shane closed her eyes as tears dripped down her cheeks. She had told him on the Little Switzerland porch she couldn't stay and watch him torment himself over Holly and his vows. Now, she couldn't stay and watch him, watch them, revive their marriage.
My heart isn't strong enough to love you and not be with you. She turned and slowly walked down the street toward the DLO.
She knew what she had to do.
And this time it would be final.