Between the Altars

By Felicia Ferguson

Very, very, very long Author's Note:

(Feel free to jump to the story—nothing but me processing and the usual legal lingo, LOL)

I loved Vows We Have Made. Loved it. Bawled during it. And needed two days to recover from it. But, up until Vows, Shane's spiritual and emotional growth was steady (with a few hiccups along the way). As I watched the US premiere, her maturity and contentment struck me as a huge and unsettling leap in character growth.

I chalked my concern up to a conversation JoBlaz and I had before it aired about how Martha really needed two movies. One for Shane and Oliver as an engaged couple, and then Vows with them getting married. But then, Shane said five pivotal words in the "Never Leave You" scene: "I know who I am." And it hit me. Yes, she does. That's the big difference in her. She most definitely knows who (and whose) she is now.

I was spoiler free until the first watching, so I started looking back through posts from the cast. Kristin said in an interview six months have passed between To the Altar and Vows We Have Made. That helped me understand. Six months was plenty of time for Shane to grow as much as she had.

But the writer in me still needed to know, how did she get there? So, of course, I started plotting. And Between the Altars is the result.

On a really cool, "trust the timing" note, Shane's leap is the perfect two birds, one stone moment. This story not only helps to satisfy my writer brain's conundrum. It is also gives me the opportunity to practice my character development skills. So, this fic is equally work and play (although really more work, so that's even better because I can justify more time in the DLO!).

A final note for the canon nerds among us:

Based on my calculations (yes, I have spent time—and lots of it—contemplating the canon timeline!), here are the dates for the last two movies:

2016 November into December: To the Altar (vague reference to it being the end of the month and the 30th in the opening scene)

Note: I'm taking artistic license by having Rita and Norman getting married the first week of December, 2016. This gives them four months to plan a wedding (and allows Rita and Bilbo enough time to be sad but not still raw about Sunny's sudden death sometime in late October or early November.)

2017 June: The Vows We Have Made (Kristin said there is about a 6-month gap between To the Altar and Vows and the weather supports a summer month)

As always, I own none of the characters. Martha Williamson has that pleasure. I merely bow to her genius. Big, huge, ginormous thanks to Mamalabo for her boots-on-the-ground location scouting and weather insight.

And finally, we get to the good stuff! I hope y'all enjoy the story. I'd love to hear your thoughts about Shane's emotional and spiritual growth. Feedback makes me smile-and feeds the muse, just sayin'!


Chapter One

Shane stood on the top of a step ladder in Oliver's hall closet and studied the cable configuration and power outlet. The cable guy had done a good job positioning the two close enough for the cords to reach without needing a power strip. She pushed her long hair back over one shoulder and looked down with a satisfied smile. "Oliver, will you hand me the router?"

Oliver stood below her with a router and modem in each hand glancing between the two very foreign, twenty-first century objects. A confused furrow creased his brow. "I'm sorry, the what?"

Shane's smile widened into a mischievous grin. "The one with the black, pointy things sticking out of the back."

He shot her a dark look, but humor lurked in his blue eyes. "You could have just said 'the one with the antennas.' I did grow up with a TV, Shane."

"Ah, that's right. They did have those back in the twentieth century." She wrinkled her nose at him and flashed a quick wink as he raised the router toward her.

Taking it from his hands, she turned and plugged the power cord into the outlet conveniently located at the top of the hall closet. Why the builder thought to include one there was beyond them both, but Shane was grateful for the foresight. It was perfectly situated to provide WiFi coverage for the entire house now that a cable line had been extended. "Just a few more wires to attach, and the future O'Toole-McInerney home will—hey, what's this?"

"Is something wrong with the . . . um. . .router?"

"No, there's something stuck back in the corner." Shane leaned on the top step, stretching to reach for the small, dark square. Her foot slipped and she banged her elbow on the shelf. "Ouch!"

Oliver grasped her hip, steadying her balance. "Do be careful. I don't want my bride crutching down the aisle."

Shane closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his hand through her denim leggings. One day, there would be nothing between his hand and her skin. Her breath caught.

"Shane?" Oliver's concerned tone pierced through her heated thoughts. "Is everything all right?"

Shane looked over her shoulder again and found Oliver's worried gaze. She took in a quick breath and cleared her throat. "Uh. . .yes. . .I just need a. . .minute."

Awareness flickered between them. With a nod, Oliver's hand slipped away, and he stepped back. But the flash of heat in his eyes told her all she needed to know. They needed to choose a wedding date. And soon.

Oliver glanced out the door with a fortifying sniff. When his eyes returned to hers, curiosity lit their depths. "What did you find?"

Shane's lips spread wide and her brows lifted with delight as she turned back to the discovery. "It looks like a book of some sort." She reached again and her fingers caught one of the corners, pushing it caddy-corner toward her.

"Why don't you get down and we can adjust the ladder?"

Shane ignored his patient logic, shook her head, and reached again. "No, it's just right here." She slid thumb under the thick leather cover and pinched it, tugging it toward her. "It is a book. But a tiny one. Maybe it's a journal?"

She handed it to him then climbed down. Taking the modem, she set it on the top step of the ladder as Oliver cradled the book in his palm, studying the decorative leather tooling.

"The detail is lovely. It must be a journal of some sort. And is that a—?" He stepped outside of the weak light in the closet and back into the bright December sunlight streaming through the living room's picture windows. "Yes, there's a figure embossed in the cover." He held it up, shifting the cover in the light, then looked up at her and grinned. "It's a picture of Jesus. So, it must be a prayer journal."

Shane stepped closer and peered at the cover. "Whose could it be? Your family's owned this house since when. . .the 1900s?"

"Actually, earlier than that." Oliver rose up on his toes for a moment. Then, lifting his brow, his eyes glowed with fondness as he recounted his family history. "The Governor of Colorado built it for my great-grandfather, Joseph Lindley O'Toole. Before he was named Poet Laureate, he was instrumental in turning the postal service here into a permanent fixture after the Pony Express declined. My great-great grandfather, Mad Dog O'Toole, of course, was a rider in the Pony Express."

Shane's heart warmed at Oliver's family pride, grateful he'd made peace with his dual O'Toole-Schmitz heritage. "Then it has to belong to someone in your family. Want to look inside?"

Oliver nodded and cracked open the leather cover. The interior paper was grayed and yellowed, but the inked inscription gleamed from out of the past.

Shane's eyes narrowed as she tried to read the decorative cursive. "'For my darling' . . . is that 'wife?'" She glanced up at Oliver as delight slipped through her. Soon, that would be her title too.

Oliver's gaze glinted as he watched her. Shane leaned up and brushed her lips against his cheek in a silent promise then returned to reading the inscription. "'For my darling wife to . . .record your prayers as. . .we embark on our life together. With love, your devoted husband.'" Shane's eyes misted as she stared at the words of love now over a century old. "Oh, that's sweet."

Oliver stared at the book, fingering the page softened by time. "Certainly reminiscent of Jonathan and Katherine Walker."

Shane shook her head and sighed. "But still no way of knowing who it belonged to." Placing her hand on his arm, she drew his gaze to hers. "Do you want to read it?"

Surprise lit Oliver's eyes, and his lips parted as he absorbed her suggestion. "I, ah, well, I suppose we could. But. . ."

Her brow creased at his hesitation, and she quickly recanted the idea. "We don't have to. I just thought you might be interested since it's a part of your family."

His gaze flicked to her and then back to the book. "Oh, yes, I am interested. But it is a prayer journal, not a letter."

Shane nodded and pursed her lips. Of course, he would be reluctant to read someone's private prayers. Glancing away, her eyes landed on the Bible Oliver kept on the living room sideboard. She had little experience with prayers. Matter of fact, she could count those she'd prayed on one hand. A smile flickered over her lips. But, at least they had all been answered in one way or another—and in their own perfect timing.

Tugging her attention back to Oliver and the book, she patted his hand. "Why don't we get back to wiring your house up for the twenty-first century, and let the past be the past?"

Oliver's cheeks crinkled as his contemplative gaze sharpened. He tucked the journal in the living room bookcase, then took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Don't you mean, 'our' house?"


Oliver bustled in the kitchen mulling spices and wine for their after-dinner cocktail while Shane sat on the living room couch, pondering the Christmas tree in the corner. After she successfully added her panoramic WiFi to Oliver's cable, he had tugged her out the door in search of a live tree for them to decorate together as an engaged couple.

Somewhere between hanging the tinsel, the lights, and the antique glass balls, Shane realized her love of Christmas had been restored. And, as in so many other ways, she had Oliver to thank for it. He had changed her entire life in less than two years.

What would their life look like in two more? Ten more? Even twenty?

Would there be Christmas mornings filled with laughing children tearing into presents? Family dinners and game nights? Afternoons in the back yard tending a rose garden and swinging together as the sun set on the day?

A steaming mug of mulled wine appeared in front of her, pulling Shane from her dreams. She glanced up at Oliver and smiled at his concerned look. "Just contemplating."

He settled onto the couch and placed his arm around her shoulder. Taking a sip of his own wine, he nodded and studied the tree. Shane curled her legs up on the couch, and leaned into his side. Taking a long draw from her mug, she laid her head on his chest and whispered, "I love us."

He squeezed her shoulder as he kissed the top of her head. "So do I."

They sat in silence, savoring the pop of the fire and the contentment of simply being together until Shane's iWatch dinged. Ten o'clock. Curfew time. She uncurled her legs and sat up, flashing him a soft, fond smile. Snagging her empty mug from the coffee table, she reached over and slipped his mug from his hand and tucked both in his dishwasher. When she returned to the living room, Oliver stood waiting, arms open, ready for what was quickly becoming their nightly goodbye ritual.

Shane stepped into his arms, wrapping her own around his shoulders and threading her fingers through his hair. His lips lowered to hers where they brushed, clung, then released in one breathtakingly sweet and simple kiss. "Goodnight, my love," Oliver whispered as he tucked his nose alongside hers, resting their foreheads together.

"Sweet dreams, my darling," Shane whispered as she stepped back. She grabbed her purse from the sideboard and waited for Oliver to help her with her coat. Escorting her to the door, he reached around her for the knob and tugged it open. The frigid December air rushed in, jerking her from the lull of the evening. Gasping, she pulled her collar tight then shivered.

Oliver rubbed her arms, warming her through the coat then smiled. "I'll be at your home tomorrow at nine-thirty to collect you for church."

Shane leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I'll be ready." Then with an impudent grin at her infamous tardiness, she said, "Promise."


Shane's phone dinged with an incoming text as Oliver parallel parked down the street from his church. She dug her phone out of her purse and grinned at the banner on the screen. "It's from Rita." She thumbed open the message and chuckled.

Oliver shifted the car into park and Shane leaned over to show him the screen. Rita and Norman were propped against a bridge railing with a deep gorge in the background.

"Is that the Rio Grande Gorge?" Oliver asked. "That's the second highest bridge in the United States."

Pinching the screen with her fingers she zoomed in on the photo and chuckled. "No idea, but poor Norman looks terrified."

Oliver huffed and nodded. "That he does."

Shane thumbed down the screen to Rita's message and traced the text bubble with a misty smile.

Honeymoon has been great! But excited to be heading home. Can't wait to see you tomorrow!

Shane sent a quick text reply then tucked her phone back in her purse and turned her gaze to Oliver. As much as she missed them, she'd miss having him all to herself at work. But it wouldn't be long until she had him all to herself every evening and night. I can definitely live with that.

Oliver met her on the passenger side and opened her door. Extending his hand to her, he helped her out of the car, quite a change from their customary work habits. Shane's engagement ring glinted in the morning sunlight catching both of their eyes. Oliver rubbed his thumb over the green moonstone, and Shane's heart turned over. She adored the antique ring, but she would have taken even the cheapest tin band as long as it came with Oliver.

Shane and Oliver joined a smattering of other couples on the sidewalk as they walked toward the church. Warm smiles and a few surprised eyebrow lifts accompanied the genial greetings between Oliver and his church friends. Shane's fingers tensed on his arm.

Oliver covered her fingers with his, soothing the back of her hand with his thumb with slow, gentle strokes as he continued his discussion of the sermon series with a couple around their age. He paused at the steps, allowing them time to reach the top, then turned his gaze to Shane. She bit her lip and darted a quick glance to the doors.

"Oliver, I know you sing in the choir. But would you mind very much sitting with me instead today? It's just—I mean, I know it's a big part of your faith, and I promise it won't be every time." The words poured from her lips in halting explanation, tripping over each other and jumbling together.

"Shh." Oliver's eyes filled with empathy and love. "That was my plan all along."

Relief eased through her with a sigh, loosening her tense shoulders, as she watched other attendees filter into the church. She was an independent woman. Secure in her love and engagement to her man. But somehow sitting alone, exposed, in front of God and everyone, knowing no one other than Oliver and Dale, was beyond her.

Oliver lifted her hand from his arm and kissed her knuckles. "And it will be for as long as you need. I want you to feel at home in church."

Shane blinked away her sudden tears and flashed him a watery smile. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." Oliver tucked her hand back in the crook of his elbow to lead them up the steps.


Fresh pine scent hit Shane's nose as soon as the church doors opened. Garlands swagged, wreaths swayed, and baskets of pine cones seemed to cover every available space in the church's entry. A fat tree stood in the far corner draped with red ribbon and white paper angels. Shane craned her neck straining to appreciate all of the pops of pine tucked in the various nooks and crannies "Oliver. It's beautiful."

Oliver's cheeks curved at her wide-eyed wonder. "Yes, the church's annual hanging of the greens was the last weekend in November. Everything will remain up until epiphany in January."

Brow creasing, Shane shot him a blank look. Epiphany?

"When we celebrate the wise men's visit to the Christ child."

Ah. Church-speak. Shane nodded.

They paused in line to the main part of the church, and he gestured down the aisle toward a wreathed ring of candles placed next to a tall, white pillared candle. "This is the third Sunday of Advent. So, three of the candles will be lit today during the service."

Something flickered in Shane's mind, a vague childhood familiarity with that term and the custom. Brow wrinkled, she tried to catch hold of the memory, but lost it as the couple in front of them passed through the doors revealing a spry, but elderly woman, holding a bunch of bulletins in her hand.

"Good morning, Mrs. Wilson," Oliver said as he took one of the flyers then smiled. "I'd like to introduce Ms. Shane McInerney, my fiancée."

Shane blinked then turned her gaze to Oliver as the unfamiliar description hung between them. All previous introductions had included colleague, if he'd made any specifications at all. But now, she was more than a colleague. She was his fiancée. Wow. A smile curved her lips as joy soared through her.

Mrs. Wilson beamed at both of them. "And you make such a lovely couple, Oliver. I'm sure you'll have beautiful children."

Oliver sniffed and stammered. Shane's eyes widened. They hadn't discussed children. And this was definitely not the place for that conversation. Shane tugged on his arm jolting him out of his shock. "It's so nice to meet you, Mrs. Wilson, but I think Oliver and I should find our seats now. Right, Oliver?"

Flashing her a grateful smile, Oliver nodded and led her inside. As they walked down the aisle, Shane's eyes absorbed the greenery, the tall stained glass, and the large pipes hanging from the back wall. She winced at the enormity and formality of Oliver's church.

Oliver must have sensed her discomfort and attributed it to Mrs. Wilson's remark. He flicked his gaze toward her and away as they followed behind others who were locating their seats. "I, uh, apologize for Mrs. Wilson's forthrightness. And for making our engagement known without first discussing how we would announce it."

Shane shook head with a light chuckle. "Don't worry about it, Oliver. I'm very happy to be introduced as your fiancée. Saying the word just makes it even more real." She squeezed his arm and leaned in to whisper, "And makes me even more happy."

Oliver paused their walk at a mostly empty pew near the front. His eyes gleamed with love and appreciation as he turned to lead her midway down the row. They sat and Shane scooted closer as a family joined them in the pew. The mom ushered a young boy and girl ahead of her with a pointed look and whispered directions for them to be quiet. She ran a hand through her long, straight hair, tucking it behind her ears, and flashed Shane a harried smile before turning her attention to her husband.

Organ pipes droned through the air cutting off all conversation and calling the people to worship. Oliver sat beside her, eyes closed, and Shane smiled knowing he was doing that thing he did. A few minutes later the choir paraded to their seats, and the minister climbed the stage. Songs of joy and hope echoed through air.

Shane savored the pure tone of Oliver's tenor as he sang his praises to God, but her eyes continued to stray to the siblings beside her. The girl took a pen from the back of the pew and began doodling on the bulletin. Her brother grabbed his own pen and started drawing on his hands. Shane bit her lip, uncertain if she should let his mother know. But the girl was apparently prepared for her brother's antics and sketched out a hangman game.

A pang clenched Shane's heart as a memory floated up from her childhood. She and Alex had sat together in a pew just like this brother and sister. Only their game of choice had been tic-tac-toe. As the oldest, Alex would draw the board, but always seemed to let Shane make the first move. Momma and Daddy would sit bracketing them, Daddy at the end of the pew, Momma in the middle. The picture of a perfect family.

Until that Christmas when she was ten-years-old.

After Daddy left, Momma never took them to church again. Alex, then a teenager, drifted away first in interests then physically as she headed off to college, leaving Shane to grow up more like an only child than a younger sibling. Shane shook off the memory as the organ's final notes disappeared.

The minister directed everyone to sit, saying something about lighting the advent wreath. Beside her the mom again shooed the children, but this time, they headed up to the stage. The dad picked up the boy and handed him a lighter while the girl read a story about the candle from a piece of paper.

Shane's earlier memory caught and held. She'd lit one of those candles when she was a child. Stunned by the realization, she grabbed Oliver's hand and watched as the family finished their presentation with a prayer. The father returned to the pew while the mother took the children outside. A few minutes later, she rejoined him for the service.

Shane flashed her a quick smile then glanced to Oliver. He smiled at her, but a question lurked in his eyes. She shook her head, unable to find words to describe the memory let alone how she felt about it. Dale stepped out of the choir loft and began a lovely solo of O Holy Night backed by the rest of the choir. Oliver's pure tenor softly joined the chorus, pricking Shane's guilt at pulling him away from the group just keep her company.

He squeezed her hand then ran his thumb across the back of it soothing away her guilt. No, he was with her by choice. Comforted, Shane settled in for the rest of the service, pushing all childhood memories away to focus on learning more about this side of Oliver.


An hour later, they stood in the church's entry attempting to ease between attendees as they milled and greeted and discussed holiday plans. Shane's presence on Oliver's arm and his seat next to her instead of in the choir drew more than one interested comment. While she loved every introduction of her as his fiancée, the attention and speculation were disconcerting. Had the nice people at Oliver's church anticipated he and Dale would end up together?

Shane watched Oliver greet the minister and savored the pure joy radiating from his eyes as he introduced her yet again. Deciding it didn't matter what the others had mentally planned, she listened as the minister praised Oliver's commitment to his faith and the church. But something pricked at her, and she searched his face for any underlying insinuation. Finding nothing but warmth, she shrugged off the thought and turned as a familiar voice called from the back of the entry.

"Oliver!" Dale's enthusiastic call drew multiple eyes toward them. She skirted between groups of various ages, smiling greetings and squeezing hands as she went, but intent on reaching Oliver and Shane.

Shane dropped her hand from Oliver's arm as he reached out to hug Dale. Dale released him then placed her hand on Shane's shoulder giving it a quick squeeze. "Shane, it's good to see you. Did you enjoy the service?"

Shane nodded as her lips widened with real pleasure. Over the past few months, Dale had become a valued friend, offering professional advice and unwavering support of Oliver and Shane's growing relationship. "Yes, I did. And your solo was lovely."

"Thank you," Dale said as her gaze dropped to Shane's engagement ring. Delight brightening her eyes, she grabbed Shane's hand for a long squeeze as she looked from Shane to Oliver. "I see congratulations are in order. When did this happen?"

Tenderness and love flowing through her at the memory of his proposal, Shane grinned. "Last Saturday, after Rita and Norman's wedding."

Dale pulled Shane into hug and said, "I'm so happy for the two of you. You are a beautiful, and perfectly matched, couple."

Tears pricked Shane's eyes. She'd released her doubts and worry about Dale and Oliver months ago and hoped to someday count Dale among her own friends. "Thank you."

Releasing Shane with a smile, Dale glanced over her shoulder toward a group of people Shane recognized from the choir loft. "Some of us are going to lunch. Why don't you come? I'm sure everyone will want to hear the news."

"Well, ah, we hadn't discussed—" Oliver cast an uncertain glance from Dale to Shane, as if unwilling to commit more of her day to his interests.

But Shane squeezed his hand and said, "We'd love to, Dale. Just tell us where."


Two hours later, Shane and Oliver pulled out of the restaurant's parking lot and headed toward her house. She turned in her seat a bit and said, "Lunch was fun. I like your friends, Oliver."

He flicked a glance her way with a quick nod. "I'm glad. But it was disconcerting to hear the plethora of wedding advice."

Shane grinned and reached over to pat his hand. Lifting her brows, she said, "Why do you think I haven't told my mother yet?"

Oliver chuckled, but as he slowed to a stop at the light, his gaze drifted off through the windshield fixated on some unseen object. Accustomed to his pondering, Shane waited for him to gather his thoughts, wondering if the light would change before or after he broached the topic. A few minutes later, she patted his hand drawing his attention back. Shane lifted her brows and tilted her head toward the now green light, and Oliver accelerated the car.

When he remained silent, she prompted, "What are you thinking about, Oliver?"

He flicked a quick, uncertain glance toward her, then returned his attention to the road. "The conversation did broach an appropriate question—although it may be too early to discuss it."

She waited a bit longer as she reviewed the many topics that had passed between the group at the restaurant. Music? Doubtful. Date? Possibly. Loca—bingo. "Where would you like to get married?"

His lips crinkled, and he shot her an amused glance. Shane returned his smile, pleasure warming her heart. I know you, Oliver O'Toole.

"Well, there's my church. . ."

But she flinched at his suggestion. The tall soaring ceilings, long rows of pews, formal stained glass, AC set to sixty degrees year-round. It wasn't at all what she pictured as the setting for the intimate ceremony she'd dreamed of as a child.

Oliver's gaze sobered, and his brow wrinkled. "Is that not to your liking? Would you prefer a less. . .religious. . .location?"

Shane placed a soothing hand on his arm. "No, I want us to be married in a church. I know it's important to you." True love wants more for the beloved than it wants for itself. Lowering her voice, she added, "And it's. . .becoming more important to me."

He and Holly had married in a quickie civil ceremony. And as much as Shane wanted to marry him as soon as possible, she wanted Oliver to have his dream wedding even more. But what if that included a formal ceremony with hundreds of people? She gazed out the window and watched the scenery flow by in a wintery blend of greens and yellows and browns. Worry skirted over her heart, and she bit her lip. "It's just. . .your church is so big."

Oliver again stopped at a red light and lifted her hand from his arm, bringing her fingers to his lips. A deep, abiding love filled his eyes. "Ah. You had something more intimate in mind?"

Relief rushed through her as she savored the feel of his lips against her skin. He did understand. "I never wanted a big wedding—even as a little girl. Just close family and friends."

Oliver released her hand and accelerated the car as the light changed again. With a quick, decisive nod, he said, "Then that's what it'll be. I confess I would be perfectly content with immediate family only. And of course, Rita and Norman."

Shane rolled her eyes and flashed him a teasing grin. "Of course, Rita and Norman. They're immediate family too. Besides, who else would you want to stand up with us?"

Oliver chuckled as he pulled to a stop in front of her house. Cutting the engine, he turned in his seat, and his eyes grew serious. "I'll be happy with any details you choose, Shane. My only request is no pictures during the ceremony. I don't want us or our guests distracted by clicks and flashes."

Shane shook her head and smiled. "Agreed. No pictures until after the ceremony. And, no seeing the bride on her wedding day."