Shane's Third Self-Termination
By Felicia Ferguson
Author's Note: And we have finally reached Shane's Third (and last) self-termination. What an emotional rollercoaster, huh? Much thanks to everyone who has ridden this ride with me with encouragement and feedback. It is greatly appreciated, fellow POstables! I hope you enjoy this conclusion.
As before: the characters and conversation you recognize belong to Martha Williamson. The internal thoughts and additional scenes (all off camera) are mine. Unending thanks to Martha, Eric, Kristin, Geoff, and Yan-Kay Crystal for their Emmy-worthy and heart rending writing and acting.
Side note: Chandel with Alameda & Downing has a "Between the Lines" video of the porch scene conversation that is fantastic! I tried to skirt pulling from her closed captioning, but please take any duplications or similarities as a compliment. If you haven't seen it, go forthwith and do so!
Part 4
Shane pushed through the DLO doors, tugged off her gloves, and wiped her cheeks. The icy wind had frozen her tears into biting crystals that pricked against her skin. She'd never been so cold before in her life. Yet another good reason to leave Denver. Yes, she'd move to that remote island and never be cold—or think of Oliver—again.
She paused as the doors swung shut behind her. Street light mixed with moonlight and streamed through the windows casting shadows and awakening memories.
Her first entrance following Oliver into the inner sanctum, certain of the mistake.
His patrician tones as he rechristened her as Cheryl.
Norman proudly rolling in her steampunk on wheels desk.
Catching Oliver's gaze as she sat beside him, then later, opposite him at that same desk. Though she'd moved it to put distance between them, it only afforded her a better view. Allowed her heart to open and reach for his without restriction.
Shane forced the memories aside and padded toward her desk, flicking on lamps as she went. She set her purse down in the seat, but as her hands moved to her lapels she stopped. No, don't get comfortable. If you get comfortable, you'll never leave. And then what will that do to your heart?
Box. She needed a box. With all of the mail in this building surely there was an empty box she could fill. Shane searched around Norman's desk, but all she found were books. Phone books. Books of stamps. Books of banking paraphernalia. Books of branding irons. She trailed her fingers across the back of his chair. She'd miss her little brother terribly.
Shaking her head, she pulled her heart back into place and continued her search. Maybe there would be an empty box somewhere in Incoming. Though she hadn't worn it in months, Rita's mail apron hung on a hook behind the wall of bins. Shane fingered the soft cotton as memories of her sweet little sister rose. The girl talk. The shopping. The daydreaming about boys and love and mistletoe. A wistful smile flickered over her lips as she turned. Oh, Rita. What will I do without you?
Shane blinked hard then wiped her cheeks again. She turned toward the back room and a stack of boxed mail. Tucked beside the priority and parcel post items was a half-empty box of printer paper.
That'll work. She pulled out the unopened reams and set them aside. She should probably take them back to the main supply closet. No telling when they'd be used in the DLO now. Shaking off the thought, she hurried back to her desk and pulled open the drawers ready to remove herself from the work.
Stationary stared at her. She glanced up, her eyes moving from Norman's desk, to Incoming, and finally landing on Oliver's desk. She couldn't just disappear. Not when she loved them so much. But she also knew she couldn't face them.
Oliver considered letter writing to be the gold standard of communication. She wasn't much of a writer, but she could at least do this. Shane pulled out a blank page and a matching envelope, set the box on the floor, and sat down to write.
Shane tapped her pen against her lips and studied the blank page. What should she say? How much could she tell them? Maybe her uncertainty would be explanation enough. After all, should words come easily if there's so much love behind them? Nodding, she heaved a slow sigh then set her pen to the paper.
Dear Friends,
I can't tell you how much it has meant to me to spend this last year with all of you. It's funny what lessons I've learned about living by delivering a dead letter. About saying the words we mean and finding the right words to say them. But somehow, I can't seem to find the right words to explain why I'm saying goodbye. Just know that it's for the best.
Always, Shane.
Shane reread the words. They weren't nearly enough, but they were all she had to give. She slid the note in the envelope then stared at the blank address. Should she write their names? Could she write them without the crushing finality of her decision dripping onto the paper and blotting them beyond recognition?
Shane bit her lip, then closed her eyes. No. But there was a better option. With steady fingers, she wrote Postables. Satisfied it was the best she could do, she picked up the box and packed up her personal items. While it took longer than her first resignation, it still was less than five minutes. And besides she couldn't pack who she wanted to take with her the most.
Her eyes flicked from sorting areas to desks, finally landing on the Dark of Night trophy stand. Five awards and one with her name on it. No, she couldn't take her friends, but at least she could leave a piece of herself there. Forever with him and Norman and Rita. Forever a Postable.
Decision made, she carried the box and the letter to Oliver's desk. She leaned the envelope against his pen holder then gave his desk one last look. She was leaving a piece of herself for them. For him. Could she take of piece of him for herself? And if so, what? Her eyes stalled on the tray of letter openers. Yes. Of everything on his desk, they were most him.
Which one? Her fingers traced the elephant head letter opener as her mind faithfully recalled the day he added it to his collection. Discovered tucked away in a box of his grandfather's things, Oliver had gleefully described the delicate craftsmanship that created the embossed elephant. At the time, Shane had smiled and nodded, simply appreciating his childlike joy. But as the months passed, she watched as his fingers gravitated to it whenever he would open a dead letter. It was an antique. It was family. It was him. Yes, it was perfect.
Shane's own fingers wrapped around the solid pewter opener then clutched it to her chest in a final touch, the last hug for the man she loved like no one else. Goodbye, Oliver.
"Shane?"
Shane gasped. Turning, she found Norman and Rita standing near her desk. "Oh, you scared me." She hoped the words sounded more welcoming than sad.
Norman fidgeted his fingers as they walked toward her. "Why are you putting your stuff in a box?" His sweet, innocent voice brimmed with confused concern.
"I wrote you a letter." She touched the envelope she'd tilted against the pen box. Shane pushed her lips into something resembling a smile and said the hardest words she could say. Especially to them. "I'm leaving. I'm moving away."
"What?" Rita's devastated reply cracked the quiet calm of the late night.
"I just realized that . . ." Shane searched for the right words, the right description, and settled on the only ones that were true, given Holly's return to her role as Oliver's wife. "I don't really . . .belong here . . . anymore."
"No. Of course, you do!" Rita lunged toward her.
Norman glanced to Rita as if hoping she would translate Shane's mystifying words. But Rita's stunned silence made him turn back to Shane. "Are you going back to Washington, D.C.?"
"No." Shane watched Norman and Rita blur behind her tears. "I'm quitting the postal service for good."
Norman seemed even more confused by her answer. "How can that be. . .good?"
She stepped closer to them. "I love you both so much. This is not . . . this is not how I wanted to say goodbye." No, I didn't want to say goodbye at all.
"Wait. I don't understand." Rita's voice broke as she gestured helplessly. "What happened?"
What had happened? Oliver chose Holly over me. Chose his vows over us. But she couldn't tell them that. Not without completely breaking down. So, she opted for the safest explanation and hoped it would be enough. "Nothing. Nothing finally happened."
But she couldn't leave it at that. Couldn't leave them with that possibility for their relationship. Rita and Norman truly were perfect for each other. Like Jonathan and Katherine, they had to make it. "Don't let nothing happen to the two of you, okay?"
Norman still looked confused, but Rita would explain everything later. Shane pulled him into a tight hug and kissed his cheek. Then she hugged Rita hard, pouring every bit of love and friendship into her grip before releasing her with a final quick brushing of her arms.
Her gaze flicked between them, absorbing their confusion and heartbreak. Lips trembling, she took in a quick, fortifying breath. I have to leave now, or I never will. And I absolutely cannot stay. She turned and grabbed her box from Oliver's desk. The tears she'd held at bay finally coursed unchecked down her cheeks.
Norman's sweet persuasion pulled out his most precious and valuable argument. "What about the Postables?"
"Oh, Norman, we'll always have the Postables." Shane promised as her voice rang with truth and tears. Snagging her purse, she headed for the back exit before she could change her mind.
Shane walked home from work for the last time. She turned onto the sidewalk at Yellow Bird Lane and looked ahead. Her beautiful piece of Virginia in Denver waited to welcome her home. But as much as she loved it, she knew she'd already left her real home.
The box shifted in her frozen hands, and she forced her fingers to uncurl and adjust her grip. Despite the few items inside, its weight had steadily increased with each step. She shook her head. This was just the first of the packing she'd be doing in the coming days. She turned into her front walk mentally forming the list of everything she'd have to do. Break the lease. Find a new— Movement caught her eye. Someone was on her porch.
It was well after midnight. Grabbing the letter opener, she tiptoed up the walkway. If that's you again, Steve, I will well and truly stab you.
Wait, there wasn't just some one on her porch, there was some thing too. Is that a. . .? No. Her mind was messing with her. The person moved. The air tingled around her. Oliver? Her mind was definitely messing with her. But, then the person turned. No, it was definitely Oliver.
"What on earth. . .Oliver. . .what is. .. what is. . .?" Completely at a loss for words and thought, Shane managed to climb her porch stairs still staring at the man who shouldn't be where he obviously was.
"An early birthday present." Oliver sounded uncertain, almost embarrassed at being caught delivering her gift. But still he rallied, adapting to the change in his carefully crafted plan with halting acceptance. "If you, um, put your weapon down, I'll let you have a swing on it."
He stepped toward her and reached for the letter opener. As his fingers closed around it, concern flickered through her. What would he think about her having it?
"This is mine. Being dispatched with my favorite letter opener. Now, that is poetic justice."
"Can we please not discuss poetry right now?" I really do not want to talk about Holly, Oliver. Shane stalked over to the far railing and set the box down with a sigh. Realization crashed through her. Wait. Shouldn't you still be with Holly? Confused, she spun around and asked a question she really wasn't certain she wanted answered. "How long have you been here?"
Oliver pursed his lips and gestured widely. His shoulders were loose and his response nonchalant. "Hour and a half. Would have been less, but I had to stop to explain to a couple of police officers why I was installing a porch swing at two AM."
"Why were you?" You kissed Holly. So, you should be at your house, with her. Not at mine, with me.
Oliver flipped the letter opener in his hands as his gaze narrowed. Ignoring her question, he instead posed one of his own. "The reason why that box contains the entire contents of your work station?"
Shane crossed her arms, bracing herself to stand her ground against the pull in her heart toward him. "I've quit."
Eyebrows raised, Oliver watched her with curious interest. "You've quit?"
Didn't I just say that? Maybe you need more words. Maybe I do too. "I have ended my career at the US postal service forever, and unalterably and forever."
"Hmmm. . ." Oliver didn't look convinced.
Hurt and concerned he would somehow manage to talk her out of her resolve yet again, she said, "What? I really quit."
Oliver wasn't buying it. "No, you haven't."
Feeling like a petulant child, Shane blurted, "I have too."
"Ms. McInerney." Oliver's determined tone firmed even more. He stalked toward her and, reaching around her, dropped the letter opener back in the box. He peered at her as his brilliant mind tried to piece together the events and evidence that led to her decision and reveal the truth. "You have a habit of self-terminating whenever confronted with a situation you cannot control."
You're right. I can't control your commitment to your vows or your ability to change Holly's mind. The only thing I can control is my presence. Eyes flashing with heated resolve, Shane pushed past him and marched toward her door. "Well, I'm really going to do it this time."
"But why?" Genuine confusion laced his words.
He had no idea she'd seen him with Holly. But there was no way she could tell him that. So, how could she tell him, but not tell him?
"Well, we've been together. . ." The job. Focus on the job. That's what this is all about anyway, right? You can't work with him anymore.
". . . .working. . . together for almost a year, and it's becoming obvious that there's just no future for me with . . . the job."
"Of course, there is." Oliver sounded mystified by her explanation.
Pain clenched Shane's heart. He truly didn't realize how hard she'd fallen for him.
"It just takes time to get know each other. Each other's strengths and abilities, and to see if we have the right chemistry to . . .work . . . together."
"Well, I think I've seen enough to know where this is going." Shane glanced away, refusing his tentative offer, then said, "and I think maybe there's someone better for. . .the job."
Oliver's eyes softened as he took a few steps toward her. "If you recall, Ms. McInerney, the position didn't even exist until you came along. I don't think I even realized what a huge hole I had in my . . .department . . .until you came and filled it."
Shane stood still, but the tantalizing promise in his gaze and the undercurrent of hope lacing words slipped beneath her cobbled-together armor. No. No. No. He would not woo her back again. He had Holly. Why did he need her? "Well, now you know. And I'm sure you won't waste any time replacing me."
Oliver's gaze warmed as a fond chuckle slipped between his lips. "Well, that would be impossible."
"Well, I've made up my mind. I wish you nothing but happiness, Oliver. . .both of you." I truly do hope you have a wonderful life, but I can't stay and watch you live it with her instead of me. Now, please, Oliver, just let me go inside and die now. Shane turned on her heel past ready to end this conversation.
Oliver, however, wasn't finished. "Both of-? Ms. McInerney, my wife. . .has returned to Paris."
Shane reached in her pocket for her keys. His words stalled her. Returned to Paris. No. He didn't say was she just heard. "What?" The question fell from her lips unbidden, but desperate for an answer.
"We wished each other well. . . We kissed each other . . .goodbye."
Brow wrinkling, she listened and absorbed his words. Goodbye? Heart and hope soaring, she whipped around. She had to see his eyes, to see his face, to know for sure. "You kissed her goodbye?"
Oliver nodded once. Definite. Final. "Yes."
Courage bubbling and certainty firming, Shane rushed forward, closing the distance between them. "And that didn't . . ."
Oliver's gaze held hers. Assurance and truth saturated its blue depths. "No. . . it did not."
Shane looked down at his left hand. The ring was gone. But maybe her mind simply wanted it to be. She reached for his hand, pulling it into the moonlight. Yes, the ring was well and truly gone. Once you take the ring off the finger, there's really no hope. The marriage was over, but was he okay with it? "So, how do you feel?"
"You know, for two years, I've imagined what it might be like if it ever became absolutely clear that my marriage was over. Once all the questions were answered and I knew I would never be Holly's husband again, how would I feel? What would I do?"
Shane's brow lifted and concern leached through her. "What did you do?"
Oliver stepped closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. His lips lifted in a quick, conspiratorial smile. "I went out, and I bought porch swing."
His words filtered through her mind and heart. His marriage is over, and he buys a porch swing. He bought. . . me. . . a porch swing. He came to find . . . me.
She watched him as he watched her. The warm fondness in his eyes deepened to pleasure, contentment, and even love. Joy ricocheted through her, bouncing off the old hurt, confusion, and misunderstanding, crushing them like fine ash from burnt fire logs. So, she hadn't misread his looks, his longing. He was not only a gentleman he was now her gentleman.
Overwhelmed by the thought, Shane glanced at his gift. Oliver stepped back, eager to show off his purchase. Picking up his level, he gestured for her to sit, then tucked the tool in his toolbox. Shane eased down, marveling at his thoughtful care and consideration.
And yet, he was still uncertain. "Is it. . .uh. . . like the one you had when you were a little girl?"
Shane smiled her reassurance and awe. "It's better." Patting the bench beside her, she offered the seat next to her now and for the future.
Oliver settled beside her, comforted by her words, but still feeling the need to qualify his gift, he said, "There's no view of the Potomac, of course." He leaned forward as something caught his eye. Something that would sweeten his offering. "But if you look right there. . . " He pointed to her yard. Shane leaned toward him hoping to catch his sightline, but also savoring their newly broached intimacy.
"A crocus." Wonder filled her words. It was a good omen.
Oliver took in a deep, steadying breath. "It was a long winter, but Spring is almost here."
Shane turned her gaze to him, searching his face and hoping he'd see the love and the promise in hers. "It's coming," she whispered.
He turned, his eyes locking on hers then dropping to her lips with a promise of their own. "It's coming."