Between the Altars

By Felicia Ferguson

Author's Note: In Truth Be Told, Oliver said he didn't suppose Harvey was a Presbyterian, so I took that and ran with it for Oliver. This is also a sweet, personal nod to my mom's family. Although I'm an ecumenical mutt, my ancestors have a long history with the Presbyterian church in Kentucky going back to the 1700s.

As always, I own none of the characters. They belong to Martha Williamson's brilliant mind. I simply savor the pleasure of telling their other stories. Enjoy!


Chapter Two

Shane set the bouquet on the worktable in the middle of the DLO and gave the spray of wildflowers a quick fluff from the car ride into work. Clutching her hands in front of her, she twirled around and found the Dormans' welcome back gift sitting in the middle of Oliver's desk. "Darling, will you bring that over here?"

Oliver brought her the present, brows lifting at the term of endearment. "Of course, Ms. McInerney."

His dry tone made Shane grin. Okay, so maybe that was a little too intimate for the workplace. Flashing him a repentant look, she winked but nodded. "Thank you, Mr. OToole." She turned and sat the box next to the bouquet. "Rita will absolutely love this owl rock carving we found. I'm so glad we beat them in this morning."

The doors squeaked open behind them. "But not by much, it would seem."

Shane rolled her eyes. Rushing to the door, she pulled Rita into a long hug then grabbed Norman's hand. "Oh, I've missed you both so much. We want to hear everything about your trip, and start from the beginning."

Rita's eyes softened as tears filled them. "It's so good to be home. I mean we loved everything about the honeymoon—"

Norman shuddered as his fingers fidgeted in nervy unease. "Well, except for the crazy Kachina impersonator who kept chasing us around downtown Taos."

Shane's brow lifted and her eyes widened, but she shook off the visual and tugged Rita to the couch in front of the fireplace surround.

Rita leaned toward her, as Norman and Oliver settled into the chairs opposite them. "We had the sweetest location at an RV park just outside of Taos with the most beautiful view of the gorge."

Shane opened her mouth to ask about the gorge, but Rita ducked her head as her eyes grew more serious. "I was glad we hitched my car to the back, though, otherwise it would have been a long and really cold walk to town. Oh and we saw the New Mexico Nutcracker, and the lighting of the trees, and. . ."

Bins of bright red and green envelopes and packages clacked down the conveyer belt thumping against the boxes already in line and silencing Rita's eager update. Shane sighed and gripped Rita's hand. "And the Christmas rush begins. But at least we can talk while we work."

The rest of the day passed processing mounds of Christmas cards happily peppered with bubbly honeymoon updates and underscored with sweet gazes between the newlyweds. Shane's eyes misted over more than once as the family reunited and adjusted to their new dynamic as married POstables and engaged POstables.


The next morning, Shane capped her lipstick then grabbed her phone and purse from the kitchen counter. Glancing at the clock, she smiled. Early again. Maybe Oliver's punctuality is rubbing off on me. She tugged on her coat and pulled out her car keys. While the recent snow had melted, the temperature was forecasted to drop too low for her to comfortably walk home from work that evening.

She glanced over her shoulder to survey the room as she opened her front door. Good. I've got everything. Stepping out the door, she jumped. A surprised huff slipped between her lips. Oliver sat on her porch swing, a travel cup in each hand. "Oliver, what are you doing here?"

Worry flickered in his eyes as he stood, sending the swing gently swaying behind him. "I thought I would surprise you."

Shane nodded as her pulse slowed. "That you definitely did." She stepped toward him and lifted her lips to his for a brief kiss. "But it's a wonderful surprise," she whispered as she pulled away and took the travel cup. "I love it when you bring me coffee." She took a long sip then dropped her purse and sat on the swing, giving the empty space beside her a quick pat.

Oliver checked his pocket watch then joined her. "I suppose we have enough time before work now that Rita and Norman are back. And it is a lovely morning."

He draped his arm around her shoulders, and Shane snuggled into his side, savoring the warmth of the coffee and the company. Across the street, neighbors started cars and scraped off windshields. Kids lined up for the bus stop at the corner of Yellow Bird Lane.

Shane's gaze drifted around her porch absorbing the haint blue ceiling, the decorative iron work, and the shake tile siding. She'd miss this house when it came time to move in with Oliver, but it was a sacrifice she would readily make to spend the rest of her life with him.

Oliver sipped his coffee then sniffed. He clasped her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, drawing her from her ponderings. "I confess there is another reason for my visit."

Shane looked up at him, curiosity mixing with her contentment. "And?" Her lips quirked in a one-sided smile.

Oliver dipped his head. "Our conversation on Sunday about wedding venues brought to mind an option which might suit both of us."

Shane's brows lifted as she took another long sip of her coffee. Having no idea what that option might be, she waited for him to continue.

He pursed his lips as if choosing his words carefully. "As a child, I attended a church near Berkeley Park. There's a new minister there, but the location is lovely, and the church is smaller than the one I attend now." He paused and turned a questioning look toward her. "I thought perhaps we might visit it today on our lunch break?"

Shane cupped Oliver's cheek and leaned her forehead against his awed by his thoughtfulness yet again. "I'd love that." Rubbing her thumb along his cheek, she brushed her lips against his, pouring all her love and gratitude into their kiss.

"Good morning, you two," a teasing and too-familiar voice greeted with bright interest.

Shane flinched, pulling away from Oliver with a disappointed hum. Of course. Shaking her head, she said, "Morning, Hazel."

"Miss Obacheena." Oliver cleared his throat and pulled his arm from around Shane's shoulders. His hand clenched and released his coffee cup as he reached for his pocket watch. "You've. . .uh. . .certainly started your mail route early this morning."

Hazel tittered as her cheeks lifted in a wide, eager smile. "Ah, well, the early bird gets the gummy worm." She pulled a stack of letters from her mailbag as her intrigued gaze darted between them.

Flustered, Oliver stood and ran his free hand down his coat. With a quick, uncomfortable glance to his car, he said, "Ms. McInerney, would you like to accompany me in my vehicle to work this morning?"

Hazel's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. Shane smothered her grin at Oliver's return to formality in front of a postal co-worker. But, she couldn't pass up the opportunity for a bit of flirting. "I'd love to, Mr. O'Toole."

Hazel seemed to relax at Shane's easy banter and began shuffling through the letters. "Looks like you got a card from your mother and someone named. . .Alex Brighton?" Hazel's eyes grew round, and she shot a concerned glance toward Oliver. "Ah—who?"

"My sister." Shane stood and, snagging the cards from her hand, flashed her a pointed look. "And thank you, Hazel. I hope you have a great day."

Hazel giggled with relief and gave them a little wave before trotting down the steps and on to her next delivery.

Coffee in one hand and cards in the other, Shane turned to Oliver and lifted her eyebrows. "You do realize we'll be the talk of the Sorted floor by noon, right?"

Oliver sighed and shook his head with a slight grin. "Yes. I do."

Tucking the cards in her coat pocket, Shane extended her hand and pulled him toward her. Placing a light kiss on his cheek, she whispered, "So, you might as well start calling me Shane."


Oliver pulled the Jag to a stop, climbed out of the car, and met Shane on the passenger side. She bit her lip as she studied the white stucco and red brick building. Though the sidewalk was lined with lush evergreen bushes, they did little to soften the harsh lines and utilitarian feel of the area. She glanced up, brows creasing in worry. "Oliver, are you sure about this?"

Eyes soft and cheeks wrinkling in a brief smile, Oliver held out his hand. "Trust me?"

Sighing, Shane placed her hand in his and nodded. "Of course."

He squeezed her hand then led her along the sidewalk past the building, then stopped. She gasped. Berkeley Park sat like an expansive, grassy oasis in the middle of concrete and asphalt. In a few months, the wide, yellowed meadow would transform into a beautiful vista of wildflowers and green grassland. To their right stood a picturesque cedarwood and tin roof church. White trimmed lead paned windows dotted the church's exterior with rustic simplicity. A low red cedar picket fence, edged with dormant rose bushes and honeysuckle vines, hugged the church with hope and promise.

Shane covered her mouth with her free hand and looked from the church to Oliver, tears filling her eyes. "It's beautiful, Oliver. And this is where you went when you were a child?"

Oliver nodded and offered her his handkerchief. Shane took it with a smile and dabbed her eyes. He pointed to a row of houses well beyond the park. "When I was boy, Dad and I lived a few blocks away. Every Sunday, I'd walk to church to meet my grandparents for services here. In the spring and summer, Grandmother would bring a picnic lunch, and we'd spread out a blanket and enjoy the park."

Shane's brow wrinkled as she tucked the handkerchief back in Oliver's coat pocket. "Joe didn't take you?"

Oliver shook his head. "No, Dad wasn't a church-goer. But he didn't mind me going and would accompany us for Easter and Christmas services." He scanned the field as if replaying memories in his mind.

"When I was seven, my grandparents moved to Orcas Island where Grandfather died soon afterward. I would walk to this church every Sunday until Grandmother passed away." Oliver paused and pressed his lips into a thin line.

Shane placed a comforting hand on his arm and waited for him to continue.

"Momma left soon after that, and Dad and I moved to Washington Park. He was an only child and inherited the O'Toole house."

He fell silent and studied the church and the dormant garden. His lips twitched with a fond smile. "But I've always loved this little church." He squeezed her hand again and lifted his brows. "Would you like to see inside?"

Shane grinned and nodded. "Most definitely."

Oliver pulled open one of the double doors and gestured for Shane to enter. She stepped inside and stopped. Peace welcomed and surrounded her like a warm sweater fresh from the dryer. Tears once again filled her eyes. Oliver's handkerchief appeared in front of her blurred vision, and her lips lifted in a grateful smile.

Sunlight glowed through the clear beveled glass windows giving the matte cherry wood tongue in groove paneling a provincial yet timeless dignity. Thick carpeting ran along the aisle between the rows of low pews, dampening their footsteps. Antique ball light fixtures hung from the ceiling, and a silver cross stood poised in the recessed window alcove above the simple cherry altar. As in Oliver's other church, pine wreaths and garlands were hung throughout the room, and an advent wreath and white pillar candle stood in the far corner. But somehow, they seemed to blend in with the simplicity of their surroundings.

Shane leaned into Oliver's side and shook her head. "I love it. It's perfect."

Oliver pointed to the exit door bracketed by stained glass cross windows. "That leads to the classrooms near where we parked. We could have entered from that direction, but I wanted you to have the full effect of walking into the sanctuary."

She pressed a soft kiss against his cheek and whispered, "Thank you."

Shane looped her arm through Oliver's as they walked down the aisle, her free hand trailing along the ends of the pews savoring the feel of the fresh pine needles against her fingertips. Oliver paused about midway down. "This is where I would sit with my grandparents. And one pew up was where Mrs. Genzinger, my Sunday school teacher, would sit. When they moved away, I joined her during the service."

They reached the front of the sanctuary, and Oliver led her toward the altar. A red leather covered book lay atop the simple white linen table runner. Oliver's fingers traced the outline of the cross embossed in the book's cover. "What is man's chief end?" he whispered as he closed his eyes. "Man's chief end is to glorify God and enjoy him forever."

Shane's brow wrinkled as she listened to Oliver's reverent words. "Who said that?"

Oliver opened his eyes and took in a deep breath. "It's the first question from the Westminster Shorter Catechism. I stood right here at the altar and recited it during my confirmation when I was thirteen. That was the last Sunday I came to this church."

Shane had no idea what he was talking about, but the sweet awe that filled his voice was all that mattered. She squeezed his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder, savoring the precious memory he shared.

After a few moments, Oliver cleared his throat and touched her hand. "I've been thinking about that prayer journal you discovered in the closet." He turned and leveled a questioning look on her. "I believe I would like to read it, but I wanted to know if you'd like to join me. I . . .would very much like it. . .if you would join me."

Shane's heart melted under his uncertain sincerity. "Of course, Oliver. It's part of your family. So, it's part of you."

Oliver's lips widened into a relieved grin. "Then, perhaps we could meet on Saturday at our house—that is, if you're not too tired from the ball?"

She slid her hands up his lapels and toyed with his tie, a mock pensive look creasing her features. "Hmmm. A lazy Saturday curled up with my favorite person and a mysterious journal?" She snuck a quick kiss then said, "What could be a more perfect way to recover from a ball?"