Between the Altars

By Felicia Ferguson

Author's Note: Well, thanks to JoBlaz's giving the muse chocolate Twitter Truffles, y'all get an extra-long chapter. And sooner than I thought. LOL. Watch for a few more old friends in this one. Christine Janes Green, you'll be especially happy. As always, I own none of the characters, but merely bow to Martha's genius while savoring the opportunity to tell more of Shane and Oliver's stories.

Drop me a line and let me know your thoughts on this one. . .we're into the meaty stuff now.


Chapter Four

The rest of the week passed with late nights processing thousands of letters and packages for the Dear Santa kids, putting the prayer journal reading on hold. But that didn't keep Shane's innate curiosity from returning to it. Who was the writer and how was she related to Oliver? What happened in their marriage? And what other prayers had she written?

On Christmas Eve, Shane stood in her closet and flipped through her wardrobe, searching for the perfect dress. She hadn't been to a Christmas Eve service since she was a kid. What did one wear for such an event?

Maybe I should ask Oliver?

She glanced at her iWatch. Eleven o'clock. He was probably still at the DLO doing a final check for last minute Dear Santa or, for that matter, Dear God letters. She smashed her lips together and decided to pick something that was at least somewhat festive.

Shane's brow furrowed. Wait, did we even have any Dear God letters this year? A pang clenched her heart as she realized there hadn't been a single one.

But since when did she actually want to answer a letter to God? Shaking her head, she continued her flicking, her fingers pausing on a long red dress with crystal buttons down the front. Yet, as she stared at the dress, the question echoed. Her mind searched back over the last two years, and she sighed.

Since when?

Since Hannah. Since Jordan. And mostly, ever since Oliver.

Somewhere along the line, she'd changed her mind about Christmas. And was even beginning to change her mind about God. Shane huffed. Her man of faith had squeezed through whatever crack she'd had in her armor against God and slowly chipped away at it with his divine deliveries and faith-centered certainties. And now here she was contemplating the entries of a one-hundred-year-old prayer journal and picking out a dress to wear for a Christmas Eve church service.

Wow.

What changes would God have done in her if she'd actually asked to be changed?

An unnerving awareness skirted over her heart. What was that? Shane blinked. As weird as it was, it also felt familiar.

But where had she felt it? When?

In the DLO. With Jordan. As she told him about Daddy leaving and taking her joy of Christmas with him. In that moment when she asked Jordan how he got her to talk about it.

Shane's brow wrinkled. What happened to Jordan anyway? He just disappeared after saying he had big plans for Christmas. And when she tried looking him up in the postal employee database, there were no Jordans who matched his description.

A ding sounded from her iWatch pulling Shane from her contemplations. Raising her wrist, she read the text banner and smiled. Joe.

Thinking of a Christmas Day hike in Elk Meadow Park. You and Ollie want to come?

I'm in, but let me check with Oliver. Let you know tonight?

Joe replied with a thumbs up followed by a heart. Shane sighed as she re-read the text. The heart emoji was a new addition to their conversations. But his fatherly love had been palpable from the moment they'd met. Given her tumultuous relationship with her own father, the sweetness of Joe's open friendship and support was a soothing balm, making her eager to see how it developed as she and Oliver moved from engagement to marriage. Tapping the message closed, she unhooked the dress from the rack, grabbed heels, and headed off to put together the rest of her wardrobe for the evening.


Make-up kit and shoe bag clutched in her hand and dress bag draped over one arm, Shane opened the door to her future home. "Oliver?" She peered into the living room and kitchen and, finding them vacant, she frowned.

His car was there, so he had to be back from his Dear Santa letter check in. Maybe he went for a walk? But he knew I was coming. . .She grimaced as she glanced at her wrist. But I'm a lot later than we planned. "Oliver?"

"I'm upstairs. Make yourself comfortable. I'll be down in a moment."

Relieved, she laid her evening clothes on the couch and did as he suggested. Rummaging through the cabinets, she found a coffee mug and helped herself to the full pot on the counter. She tugged open the fridge for the creamer and paused. Her favorite kombucha stared out at her from the shelf nestled between a carton of eggs and a container of left-over sushi.

A pair of warm arms wrapped around her from behind as Oliver said, "Finding everything all right?"

Shane leaned back in his embrace as their life together opened up in front of her. "You have my brand."

"Of course." His offhand response lifted her lips. He was so different from every other man who'd been in her life. And yet, he really was everything she never knew she wanted.

But God knew.

Her brow wrinkled. Where had that thought come from?

Too much thinking about prayer journals and Dear God letters, Shane.

Because she wasn't actually ready to believe a higher power had done more than mix-up her transfer orders. More than keep Oliver and Joe safe in El Dorado Canyon. That it had orchestrated possibly every detail of their lives so that she and Oliver would have the opportunity to spend their lives together.

Something skimmed over her heart again.

Shane shivered. Or was she?

Oliver rubbed his hands over her arms, then closed the refrigerator door. Shane banished her musings in favor of fixing her coffee. Flicking her eyes to the couch, she said, "I, uh, I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of bringing everything I'd need for tonight." She shot a quick look back to him before returning to her cup. "I just thought it would save time if I got ready here instead of going back to my place."

Oliver poured his own cup and leaned against the kitchen island. His knuckles brushed against her cheek, drawing her gaze to his. Love and contentment gleamed in his eyes. "Rita and Norman are bringing Bil tonight, and Dad will be joining us as well."

A smile flickered over her lips. "Good. I was hoping Bil would come. I'm sure the first Christmas without Sunny will be hard. Rita said something about them all going to Norman's adoptive parents' house for Christmas Day, so that's good too."

Taking a sip of her coffee, she leaned next to him savoring the sweetness of mundane couple talk. "Oh, and your dad texted me earlier. He wants us to go hiking with him tomorrow. I told him I'd check with you, but I think that would be fun."

Oliver's eyes narrowed as his lips parted in consideration. "It would give us the opportunity for some family bonding time."

Pleased with his description, Shane leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Perfect. I'll just text him we're a go and find out the details."


While Shane texted with Joe, Oliver took her dress bag and makeup kit into the guest bedroom, then pulled the prayer journal off of the living room bookshelf. "I thought we might. . . ah. . .read a bit more in the journal?"

Shane's cheeks wrinkled in a wide grin. "Oliver O'Toole, you read my mind." She carried their mugs to the living room and joined him on the couch, wondering if they would finally learn the writer's identity.

Oliver flipped to their current entry as Shane took another sip of her coffee. A dainty black and white ink drawing of a wildflower filled the left page. Her brow furrowed, and she tugged the book closer. Eyes widening and lips pulling back in a delighted grin, she said, "Oliver, that's baby's breath."

Oliver's gaze lit with pleasure, and he huffed his amazement. His voice warmed as he read the prayer.

Dear God in Heaven, what a precious gift you've given us. Grant me a mother's heart—pure, steadfast, and generous. May patience and joy be ever in my soul. Let me love this child as you have loved me.

He slid a finger under the page, but Shane stayed his hand then lifted her eyes to his. "You know, we've talked about moving in together, but we haven't talked about anything after that. Do you want children?"

He bobbed his head. "Yes, I've always hoped to be a father at some point. And you?"

Shane bit her lip as memories of her childhood with Alex flickered through her. Learning to ride a bike with Alex running behind her then pushing her free to pedal. Bedtime stories with Mom. Family road trips in the summer with books and candy and playing I Spy. Slowly, she nodded. "Someday."

Oliver squeezed her, then whispered, "But there's no need to rush."

She sighed as relief eased through her. "Trust the timing, right?"

"Yes."

Shane lifted her lips to his for a brief, sweet moment, sealing their agreement in the best way she knew, then laid her head on his chest. Oliver leaned he cheek on her head as he turned the page. No drawing this time, but another scripture scrawled across the page.

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth. 3 John 1:4

"It sounds as if they planned to raise the child in the faith."

Shane lifted her head and absorbed his pensive consideration. She placed a light hand over his and said, "Oliver, I'm not a church person. But, just so you know, I do want our children raised in church and with faith."

Joy radiated from his gaze as a beautiful smile wreathed his lips. He lowered his forehead to hers and whispered, "Thank you."

Shane nodded and pressed a light kiss to his lips, once more sealing their promise. She laid her head back on his chest and Oliver continued reading.

Dear God in Heaven, my heart grows fuller every day with joy and love for this precious child. Watch over it as it grows, give it a heart for you and great love for others. May its life be forever in your care.

"That's sweet." Shane brushed her cheek against Oliver's chest, wondering what prayers they might pray for their unborn children. Oddly content with the idea, she smiled as Oliver once again turned the page. But in the next breath, her heart turned over.

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18

Oliver's voice cracked as he reached the citation. Licking his lips, he took in an unsteady breath, then lowered his gaze to her.

"No," Shane whispered, covering her mouth with her hand as he blurred behind a wall of tears. "No, no, no, no, no."

He swallowed hard, but a rasp still scraped his voice as he read the next page.

You were ours, but now naught. A glimpse, a breath, a beat, and now forever gone. Oh God in Heaven, I cannot hold him any longer, so I release him to your care. Treasure him, nurture him, and please fill me with your peace.

A heady sensation flooded through Shane, breaking open something buried deep within her and revealing an insurmountable mound of grief and loss. Unable to name the cause or explain the why, her tears deepened into gut wrenching sobs.

Oliver closed the journal and set it in his lap. His arms wrapped around her as his simple, soothing shushes attempted to ease her heart.

Sometime later, she lifted her eyes to Oliver's. Seeing the compassion lurking in their depths, she pressed a soft kiss against his tear-dampened cheeks. "I'm sorry—I don't—"

Oliver tucked her back onto his chest and rested his cheek against her forehead. "Shhh. There is no need to be sorry, Shane."

She closed her eyes and smiled into his soft cashmere sweater, grateful for his understanding of something she didn't even understand herself. Such intense pain and grief had to have a reason, and yet, there still were no words to explain it. All she could do in that moment was cling to Oliver as fatigue seeped through her. Moments later, she drifted to sleep.


Shane awoke all at once, unsure where she was or why a soft regular thump filled her hearing. Eyes focusing, she heaved a sigh and nuzzled Oliver's cheek. "How long was I asleep?"

Oliver glanced to the clock on the wall. "Almost an hour. How are you feeling?"

She leaned back and wiped her cheeks. "Better. But I still have no idea why that entry hit me so hard. I've never been pregnant. Never lost a child."

"Perhaps not, but loss can be experienced in a myriad of ways. And the pain can still be substantial."

Something flickered in his eyes, but disappeared before Shane could identify it. She nodded as her mind turned from heartbreak to curiosity. "Did anyone in your family have a miscarriage?"

"Not that I'm aware of. I suppose we could ask Dad tomorrow. He might know."

Shane slid her hand into his and stroked the back of his thumb with her own. "Would you mind waiting to ask? I mean I know this your family. But. . ." How could she explain the intimate bond she had somehow formed with this woman? This longing to keep her prayers sacred and the loss of the baby secret—even from possibly her own family?

He lifted their hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "We have a few more pages remaining. Why don't we read them first and see if there are answers there?"

Shane closed her eyes and nodded. "Thank you."


The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in the simple quiet and comfort of each other's company. Shane tugged out her iPad and gave the new WiFi set-up a full test run. Oliver watched her with patient bemusement as he turned the pages of his latest book on words. After the dinner dishes were cleared, he led her upstairs to the guest room and en suite bath.

He gestured inside then rose up on his toes for a moment. "I hope this suits you for your evening ablutions."

Smiling, Shane squeezed his hand then pushed him out the door. "It's perfect. Now, go, if you want to leave on time."

She closed the door then turned and scanned the room. While it had an unused feel, the décor still fit with the rest of the house. A four-poster antique mahogany rice bed was covered with a simple cream brocade quilt. A cedar hope chest sat at the foot just begging to be opened, but Shane reined in the urge and turned her attention to the photos on the wall.

People stared out at her from black and white, sepia, and even the odd tin type. The O'Tooles and their wives. "Which one of you wrote that journal?" she asked as she searched the faces of the women. Still tender from the woman's heartbreak and prayer, Shane forced the questions about both aside and focused on the evening to come.


Christmas Day, Shane stretched and yawned as she wandered into her kitchen searching for much needed caffeine for the day. Oliver had dropped her off at home a little after ten, but her sleep had been fitful as images of the baby in the manger and the baby who was lost wove together in her head. Both gifts given and returned. And then there was her own still mystifying reaction.

Oliver's church had been packed and, while the candlelight ceremony at the end was beautiful, Shane's thoughts had drifted to the Berkeley Park church. Would they have put on such a grand performance with trumpets and violins? Special songs and videos? Or would their service have been simpler, more in keeping with their provincial setting and possibly even with the actual event?

She hit start on her coffee maker and waited as the fresh aroma of high end Arabica beans wafted through the kitchen. She glanced at the clock and nodded. Plenty of time before Oliver comes.

Idly planning her spring planters, her gaze drifted out her back window, then froze as her mouth dropped open. Surely not. She stepped into the dining room for a closer look at her porch. "What the Sam Hill?" Hanging from the porch ceiling was a swing with a bright red bow tied to the back rest. Grabbing her phone from the charging station, she thumbed open her contact list and hit dial.

One ring and the call was answered. She shook her head and smiled. He was probably waiting. "Oliver, I thought we agreed the ring was enough!"

Amusement warmed his low, sleep roughed tone sending a shiver along her skin. "Well, this one is for the both of us."

Sighing, she tried a different argument. "But, I'm moving in with you soon. Where are we going to put two swings at your—our—house?"

"Well, as we have yet to name a date, soon is not soon enough." The amusement faded into something more intimate, and Shane pictured him resting his cheek on his fist, his eyes glowing with warm affection. "And given Miss Obacheena's varying route schedule, I would prefer to curtail any further interruptions. Besides, weren't you already planning to redecorate our house?"

Shane chuckled and flashed her phone a wry grin. Toying with her pendant, she conceded her argument with a huff. "Well then, how about we try it out when you pick me up later?"

"I'm looking forward to it, Shane. I'll see you soon."

Warmth seeping through her, she nodded and ended the call, then glanced at the time and sighed. Might as well do it now. She poured her coffee then dug through her pantry for her emergency stash of amaretto syrup. Adding two generous pumps, she topped off the concoction with her usual cream and gave it a good stir. After a fortifying sip, Shane took in a deep breath then tapped her phone's screen again and leaned against her kitchen counter. "Hi, Mom. Merry Christmas."

"Oh, Shaney, hello. Um, yes, Merry, uh, Christmas." Mom's dry tones wrapped around the greeting making it sound like she'd rather have her teeth pulled—without anesthetic.

Shane winced at tapping such a sore subject and hurried on to hopefully more positive topics. "What are you doing today?"

"I'm heading to your aunt's in an hour to be with your cousins and their kids. You know they've been asking about you and wondering when you're coming back."

Shane rolled her eyes and reminded herself that guilt rants really were Mom's way of saying she missed her. Maybe it's time to tell her. "Denver's home now, Mom, you know that. And it's actually going to be even more home."

"How can it be even more home? You've lived there for almost two years. Are you buying a house?"

"No, Mother." Shane sucked in a deep breath and counted to three. "Oliver and I are engaged."

A long pause greeted her announcement. Finally, Mom said, "Oh, Shaney, well, that, that's just. . .a wonderful Christmas gift." Genuine pleasure filtered through her customary dry tone. "So, when will I finally meet him?"

Shane thumbed her engagement ring with a soft smile, allowing her guard to drop the tiniest bit. "Well, we haven't set a date yet, but I'll let you know as soon as we do."

The phone line crackled with the first hints of guilt as Mom hummed. Shane jerked her wandering dreams back, bracing herself for whatever opinion and plan Mom had already formulated.

"You're having the wedding back here, aren't you—"

"I-I haven't heard from Alex except for a Christmas card last week." Shane crashed through Mom's machinations with the first thought that came to mind. "Is everything okay?"

Mom heaved a heavy sigh and a quiver of foreboding skimmed the back of Shane's neck. Oh no.

"She had a set-back that violated her probation. So, now she's serving out her original jail sentence. A full year."

Shane's heart clenched. Alex had sounded so good on the phone a few months ago. Almost like her old self. "Mom! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, it just happened, and she thought she could get out of it. Said she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But the judge didn't believe her and denied her plea. I can't say I believe her either. Everything has always been someone else's fault with her."

Shane closed her eyes as the old recriminations and excuses played through her memory. Anger and hurt bubbled in her stomach. Mom wasn't wrong. But Shane had held such hope that this time it would be different. "I'm so sorry, Mom. You spent all that—"

"Well, as Macbeth said, come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day. One way or another, what's going to happen is going to happen. Shakespeare really knew people, that's for sure."

Shane shrugged off Mom's dour acceptance of Alex's behavior, but she couldn't shake the sense of responsibility for her older sister. She'd just spoken with her, reconnecting after years of silence. But that was two months ago. Why hadn't she reached out again? Checked in on her more often? Maybe if she'd kept better tabs on her Alex wouldn't be in—

"So, what are you doing today?"

Jerked from her guilt-ridden spiral, Shane blinked. "Oh, Oliver and I are going on a hike with his dad."

"A hike? On Christmas Day? In Colorado? You'll freeze your a—"

"I'll be bundled up," Shane interrupted, unwilling to add another twenty-dollar bill to the swear jar—even it was only by proxy. "And I've gotten a bit more used to the cold anyway. Spring here makes it worth it."

They talked for a few more minutes about the weather and New Year's plans then Shane wound up the call. "Mom, I need to go. Oliver's going to be here in a little bit." A white lie, but anything to stave off the next round of guilt. She ended the call then whispered, "I love you, Momma," into the quiet air around her.


Shane stuck her gloved hands in her pockets and took in a deep breath of the crisp mountain air. She shivered as the frigid breeze snuck between her neck and the gap at the collar of her down jacket. Why had she thought this would be a fun Christmas Day activity again?

She turned back to the Jag and watched Oliver and Joe's welcoming embrace. Oh, yeah. That's why. Lips lifting in a fond smile, she pushed all thoughts of freezing aside and focused on the warmth between her favorite man in the world and his father. Joe's gaze caught hers and the delight that radiated from him was all the gift she needed that year.

Joe and Oliver walked toward her as they discussed the plan for the day. Joe placed his hand on her shoulder and pointed to the trail as it opened below them. "It's only about two and a half miles, but we can take our time and make a good afternoon out of it."

Eyebrows lifting Shane shot him a pointed glance.

Joe's cheeks pinked and he raised his right hand with a grin. "And I promise we'll stick to the trail this time."

"Mr. O'Toole? Ms. McInerney?"

They turned at the greeting to see a couple on horseback riding toward them. "Oh for heaven's sake, Sam, Marie. Merry Christmas," Oliver said then introduced Joe and explained the connection.

Marie looped her reins in one hand and leaned on the saddle horn. "My son's with his dad this Christmas, so we decided to spend the day on the trail."

Shane shaded her eyes, marveling at Marie's uncanny resemblance to Dale. "Have you ridden here before?"

Sam nodded and shifted in his saddle to point behind them. "The back thirty acres of the ranch actually butt up to the park, but we always trailer over for rides."

Joe scanned the trail and the open meadow beyond. "How's the wildlife today?"

"Seen a few mountain lions here and there, but they'll give you a pretty wide berth unless you're around their food stash. And the elk are running, so keep an eye out. Long as you stick to the trail, you'll be okay."

Shane flashed Joe a knowing look. "We already had this discussion—and experience."

Marie winced then placed her hand on Sam's arm. The afternoon sun caught the simple gold band on her ring finger. "We should probably let them get going. Merry Christmas." She glanced down at her hand and smiled. "And thank you, again."

Sam ducked his head and tapped the brim of his hat as they clucked to the horses and trotted off.

Amazed at the timing, Shane crossed her arms and gave Joe a curious look. "So, of all the trails in all of Colorado, what made you pick this one, Joe?"

"Something told me it would be a good one to hike today."

"Something, hmm?" Oliver said with a knowing grin.

Joe chuckled and shook his head then headed down the trail. Shane tucked her arm around Oliver's elbow and leaned in to whisper. "Sounds like another example of Oliver's Divine Delivery Theory."

Oliver huffed as a small smile teased his lips. "It would seem so. Shall we walk on?"

Shane grinned and hugged his arm. "Yes. I think we shall."


About halfway down the trail, Oliver stopped up short. "Oh my goodness! A whole flock of cedar waxwings. There must be at least fifty in the tree up there. . .all puffed up against the cold." He pointed toward a tree filled with orange and yellow birds feasting on the cedar berries. "Their black masks always remind me of bandits. I'm going to see if I can get a closer look."

Joe and Shane shared an indulgent smile. He gestured to a fallen tree, and they sat while Oliver wove between the grasses and rocks toward the cedar tree grove. Joe tugged a thermos out of his backpack and passed it over to her. Smiling her thanks, Shane took a sip then handed it back and stared across the yellowed meadow. Snowcapped mountains scraped the brilliant blue sky. Further up the trail, a cluster of hikers paused to watch a herd of elk amble through the tall grasses. "I used to go hiking with my dad when I was a kid."

Joe nodded but said nothing. His eyes scanned the horizon as he seemed to wait for whatever she chose to share. Grateful for his silence, Shane's lips flattened. "My favorite place was just a little way away from our house in Alexandria. It was this huge park created by a woman who saw how the area was building up and wanted to keep a piece of it as it was.

"Daddy would take me and my sister, Alex, through the trails, and hidden in the middle of all the trees was this beautiful river. He would fish, and Alex and I would sit on these huge boulders and try to count the guppies that circled around them." She paused and stared at the mountains idly wondering about the rivers they hid.

"The last time we went, I was eight or nine. He taught us how to skip stones in the river. Alex couldn't get hers to skip more than a couple of times, but somehow mine always hit just right. They'd pop five or even six times before sinking under the water. Daddy was so proud." Tears pricked her eyes. She blinked hard and ran her fingers over her cheeks, drying them before they froze against her skin.

"So much went wrong after that." She stared back into the horizon and whispered, "I wish I could've bottled that day."

Joe laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Oh, I think you did."

A rueful chuckle slipped between her lips and she reached for his hand. Giving it a gentle squeeze, she said, "Maybe so."

They sat quietly watching the horizon until Oliver reappeared, regaling them with details about the birds, their habitat, and even mimicking their song. Shane took his hand and, tugging him down the trail, she flashed a grateful smile to Joe. It truly was a Merry Christmas.