Between the Altars
By Felicia Ferguson
Author's Note: Not gonna lie. This chapter wrecked me. More than twice.
Though we haven't reached the start of Vows We Have Made, the muse has decided this is the final chapter for now. What was planned for chapter 8 is actually a great launch point for a sequel. So, stay tuned for Between the Altars II. Thanks and honor to Martha Williamson, Eric Mabius, Kristin Booth, Crystal Lowe, Geoff Gustafson, Gregory Harrison, and Sherry Miller for their incomparable work in this series. I have savored every moment of playing their sandbox.
Chapter 7
Shane and Oliver stepped into the sanctuary of the Berkeley Park church and paused. Several couples around their ages and a handful of kids already sat in the cushioned pews. To the right of the altar, a man with a classical guitar accompanied by a woman on a violin played soothing church music.
Shane closed her eyes as the sweet purity of the violin lilted above the easy twang of the classical guitar. Peace swelled in her heart pulling her lips into a soft smile. Yes. This was exactly how she imagined their services would be. She felt Oliver's curious gaze followed by the light touch of his hand on hers where it lay tucked in his elbow. Opening her eyes, her smile widened.
His eyes gleamed with joy as he absorbed her delight. "Where would you like to sit?"
Pursing her lips, Shane scanned the sanctuary. "Somewhere in the middle, maybe? Or should we sit in the back so we don't steal someone's regular seat?"
His lips twitched. "I believe we will take that risk no matter where we choose." With a quick nod, he led her toward the pew where he once sat with his grandparents.
Shane blinked. "This is perfect, Oliver."
A woman in the next pew up turned. Her mouth dropped open and surprise lit her eyes. "Oliver O'Toole! God love you. What are you doing here?"
"Mrs. Genzinger," Oliver said, shaking his head in amazement. "Ah, this is my fiancée, Shane McInerney. We're visiting today and hoping to speak with the pastor about having our wedding ceremony here."
"Oh my goodness, what wonderful news." She turned to Shane and patted her arm. "You know, Oliver was the most delightful boy in Sunday school. Always such a willing helper. I was so sad when you moved away, but I understood. And it was so wonderful to run into you that Christmas."
Amused by the anecdote, Shane shot a fond glance toward Oliver. Yes. He would definitely be the Sunday school teacher's pet. "Are you here regularly?"
"Oh, no, usually I'm at the early service. I still teach the middle schoolers, but since it's New Year's Day, classes have been canceled, so I came later—got to sleep in this morning." She teased with a wry grin. "By about ten minutes. Guess you can't teach an old dog new tricks."
Her gaze caught on a group of pre-teen kids walking in from the side door. "There are a few of my students now. I'll just go see how their Christmases went and be back. It's so lovely to meet you, Ms. McInerney."
"Please, call me Shane." But Mrs. Genzinger was already bustling off in search of her usual charges.
"She's delightful, Oliver." Mirth filled Shane's voice as her lips widened into a grin. "And I might have to take her to coffee sometime to hear all about little Oliver."
Oliver heaved a put upon sigh and shook his head, but his lips twitched in wry amusement.
They settled in their pew, exchanging simple greetings with the couples behind them. As the violinist and guitar player eased into another song, Mrs. Genzinger returned, all smiles. She waved at the pre-teen girl in a white robe who walked down the aisle carrying a long-handled candle lighter.
Shane pursed her lips as a memory flickered. Again, something with candles and church and the advent wreath. As the girl reached the podium and lifted the lighter to the candlewick, the flame blew out. She shot a panicked glance to a man in the front row, who calmly rose. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder then relit her wick. His knuckles stroked her cheek as his lips lifted in an encouraging smile.
That was it.
Shane's candle had gone out when Daddy held her up to light the advent wreath candles. He'd given her a gentle squeeze then carried her to the altar candles to relight her wick while Alex and Momma read the passage.
Daddy held his hand in front of the candle as they walked back. The flame glowed and grew behind his hand until it was in full blaze. Shane leaned forward and lit the candles. She watched the flame spark and engulf each candle in the wreath. Then Daddy lowered her to the floor, and she leaned into side as his hand cupped the back of her neck.
In that quiet, moment, she'd felt so safe, so loved.
As the memory disappeared, Shane's brow wrinkled. Why would she remember that here? She glanced to Oliver and then around the church. Her lips twitched. The dark wood. The cozy, warm peace. Well, it did have a similar feel to the church of her childhood.
But she'd experienced this same warm peace somewhere else, hadn't she? Brow furrowing, Shane wracked her memories and finally landed on the answer. That hospital chapel. That same feeling of peace had drawn her through the doors. And it was there she poured out her thanks to God for saving Oliver in that canyon. Was that peace why she felt safe baring her soul to a God she was only beginning to believe in?
There was now no getting around the fact that God had to exist. Not after she'd seen so much that could only be accomplished by a higher power. But as she sat in that hospital pew, she'd realized that not only was God real, He actually cared. A rescue dog as the writee? Norman's boldness in buying Sandy without consulting the rest of the board? Then finding Joe only hours from sepsis setting in? And above all, answering her desperate plea to keep Oliver safe in the middle of a forest filled with bears, mountain lions, and who knew what else?
Yes. God had cared enough to arrange all that and answer her prayer. . . just as He must have cared for Cordelia and answered her prayer to deliver Chester safely.
Chester, who had inspired Oliver in character and manner. Chester, the father of Joe, who took Oliver as his own without a second thought.
Shane's mouth parted in awe as her gaze landed on the cross in the window alcove. God, I owe You thanks for saving Chester, too. Without his influence and without Joe as his father, Oliver wouldn't be who he is.
She slid her hand through Oliver's arm and gave it a light squeeze. And for that I am so very grateful.
Oliver's gaze met hers. A question lurked in its depths.
She smiled and shook her head. Just saying thank you.
Church service over, Mrs. Genzinger took Oliver's elbow and led them to the back of the church where the minister and his wife stood talking with another couple. "I'm sure it will be no problem to have the wedding here—and it's such a beautiful location for a wedding, simple or more elaborate."
Shane squeezed Oliver's arm. "Oh, it'll definitely be simple—and small."
Mrs. Genzinger introduced them to Pastor Greg and his wife, Rachel, then said, "I'll just leave you to talk. It was so good seeing you again, Oliver. I wish you all the best."
Oliver gave the couple a brief history of his attendance there and Shane's preference for a smaller venue than his church in Washington Park. The couple were delighted at the possibility of officiating. Pastor Greg shrugged. "In fact, your former minister, Pastor Johns, still preaches on occasion even though he's officially retired. I'm sure he'd be pleased to officiate the wedding of one of his former congregants."
Shane shot Oliver a wide grin. "I think that's perfect. Oliver?"
He turned his gaze to her and took in a quick breath. Rising on his toes, he said, "Yes, I agree."
"Great. That's settled, then." Rachel pulled out her phone and tapped open an app. "Do you have a date in mind?"
"Ah," Oliver said, glancing to Shane as uncertainty shaded his eyes. "Actually, no we haven't discussed it. I think we mostly wanted to ensure the church was an option."
Shane bit her lip then raised her eyebrows. "Well, my lease is up in June." She paused as her eyes lit up with an idea. "Oooh, how about June sixteenth?"
Oliver's cheeks crinkled, and his eyes warmed with memory. "The day we met."
Rachel grinned. "Let me just check the church's calendar. June is a popular month for weddings, you know." She sighed and shook her head. "Ah, no. The staff are all scheduled for an in service that day. But miracle of miracles, Saturday, the seventeenth is available. Would that still be a good day?"
Shane threaded her arm through Oliver's and squeezed. "What do you say?"
His head bobbed in a brief nod of agreement. "It's a date."
Wednesday of that week, Oliver spent the day in back-to-back meetings while Shane, Rita, and Norman began sorting through the no zip code letters and matching up addresses. Shane printed up the last label for her stack as her cell phone rang.
She checked the caller ID and blanched. Mom. And in the middle of the day. Bracing herself, she sent the call to voicemail then glanced at the clock. Eleven. Well, she could call it an early lunch—especially since Oliver wouldn't be back until much later. "Rita, I've got an errand to run, so I'm going to take my lunch early. Are you good here?"
Rita adjusted her glasses then made a shooing motion. "Go ahead. We'll be fine."
Norman looked up from his mail bin and nodded his agreement.
Shane grabbed her coat and headed out to her car. She needed absolutely privacy for any call with Mom, and, more than likely, especially this one. Mom answered on the second ring.
"Are you screening your calls, Shaney?" she greeted.
Shane closed her eyes, willing patience into her voice and heart. "I am at work, Mother. I had to find somewhere I could take a personal call."
Mom barreled on as if she hadn't her. "Well, hate to say it, but Alex didn't tell us everything. Of course, when has she since this all started?"
Shane closed her eyes as the old, familiar hurt and anger churned in her stomach. "Mom, what's left to tell? She's in jail for violating her probation."
Mom's caustic tone cut through the air. "Well, there are new charges, and now she's going to prison. For a while."
Shane's eyes widened. Her heart stopped then restarted ricocheting her pulse through her veins. "What?"
"Her lawyer didn't go into details, but something about running an illegal gambling ring with ties to some pretty bad people."
Stomach turning over, Shane clenched and released the steering wheel. "When did this happen?"
"Sounds like right after she got out of rehab this last time."
"So, around Thanksgiving." Voice shaking, Shane fought the tears that threatened. She swallowed hard. "What do we do now?"
"I asked the lawyer that, and all he said was she has legal fees that need to be covered."
"Oh, of course she does." Barely holding her temper in check, Shane spit out the words then huffed. "Let me wire you something. How much is it?"
"No, I'll handle it."
Hot, angry tears clogged Shane's throat. "Mom, you don't have another house to sell."
"It's not that much this time. I-I just wanted you to know."
"Okay. Well, um, call me if there's something else." Shane ended the call and dropped her forehead to the steering wheel. Alex, why do you keep doing this to us? Knowing there was not—and probably never would be—a good answer, Shane smashed her lips together and pulled out of the parking lot, setting out to make good on her excuse to Rita.
But thirty minutes later, she pulled to a stop on a street in Berkeley Park. Oliver's childhood church was only a few yards away. Shane sighed as she cut the engine. Why not? There was nowhere else to go, not really.
Shane ducked inside and found the sanctuary mercifully empty. Easing into Oliver's family pew, she sat and stared at her last text conversation with Alex.
Happy Thanksgiving, Alex! What are you doing today?
Lunch with Mom then meeting up with some old friends. You?
Dinner at Oliver's with the team then maybe a long walk around downtown.
See you soon?
Maybe for Christmas—always busy here at work that time of year.
Okay. I love you.
You too.
Old friends. How did I miss that? Shane shook her head as hot tears burned her eyes and throat. Why didn't I just go home? I could have been there when she got out of rehab. Could have helped her stay on track. Emotion whirled and twisted inside her, dragging her into their spiral.
You are not responsible for how she lives her life, Shane. Oliver's words cut through the whirl with calm certainty.
Slowly, she nodded. Maybe not. But I am so tired of being angry at her. So tired of being disappointed. Again and again.
I just want peace. But I don't how.
Closing her eyes, she bowed her head, desperate for something, anything, to hold onto in the tumult of guilt, love, and disappointment. What was it Oliver had said? That he trusted in the one thing that would never let him go? That perfect love would hold onto him in a storm?
This swirl of emotion raging through her certainly qualified as a storm. Could she trust that perfect love too? Would it hold onto her in the middle of Alex's crazy, stupid chaos? Could it give her the peace she so desperately needed?
Blinking away the tears, Shane's blurred gaze caught on the altar. Two tall silver candlesticks bracketed the top, and a cream linen table runner spanned its length. Above them, the cross still perched in the window alcove.
She took in a deep, quivering breath, then released it with a plea. "Help me."
Street traffic silenced. The air thickened. And the whirl inside her eased. Even her heartbeat seemed to slow.
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.
Cordelia's prayer for her lost child whispered across her heart in that same still, quiet voice as before. Offering answers, promising hope.
Could she do what Cordelia did? Could she release Alex to God's care?
Memories of Alex flitted through her. Laughing and talking under quilt tents in the living room. Sleepovers in each other's rooms with hair braiding and reading. Riding bikes and hiking.
Saying goodbye as she left for college.
Saying goodbye.
Letting her go.
Shane looked up and blinked rapidly, then nodded. "Okay, God. I'll release her to You. Treasure her, nurture her, and fill me with Your peace."
A fresh round of tears spilled onto her cheeks.
But this time, they cleansed and healed.
That evening as she and Oliver undecorated their Christmas tree, Shane shared the news about Alex. As they removed the crystal ornaments and tinsel, Shane gave a halting replay of her side-trip to the church, her revelation there, and releasing her sister to God's care.
Oliver took the last ornament from her hands, set it in the box, then drew her into his arms. "I'm sorry for you, but incredibly proud of you at the same time."
His words whispered over her as she stared at the now bare Christmas tree. Its green needles were so reminiscent of the tree in the DLO two Christmases ago. The necklace that had hung from the branches that night shifted against her neck. She'd traded her most precious possession to make a dream come true for a little girl, and it had been returned to her by divine intervention.
She shifted in Oliver's arms and her gaze landed on the prayer journal where it wedged snugly next to the Bible on Oliver's bookshelf. Shane closed her eyes. Yes, God cared. And He was leading her life. There was no longer any doubt. But where did she go from there? There was so much she didn't know. So much she didn't know how to do.
But Oliver does.
Shane smiled as the sweet, small voice stole through her. Yes. He does.
She gave Oliver a brief squeeze then pulled back in his arms. "Oliver, I don't know how to pray. But you do. . ." A flicker of remembrance lit his eyes, but she plowed through before he could comment. "Will you teach me how?"
Request made, Shane watched as the quick flicker brightened with surprise then warmed to pleasure. Her lips curled slowly as her words settled between them, opening a door to a deeper level of trust and love.
Oliver lifted her knuckles to his lips and placed a long, soft kiss to them. Eyes rimmed red with unshed tears, the light in his eyes glowed with joy. Shane nodded, spilling her own tears down her cheeks. He pulled her back to him, brushing his lips against her temple as he seemed to savor her heartfelt words. Voice low and thick, he murmured, "Many women have done excellently, but you, my Shane, surpass them all."
Kissing his cheek, Shane tucked her nose alongside his and rested her forehead against his. "What's that from?"
"It's from the book of Proverbs. And describes a woman of valor."
Shane closed her eyes as the compliment, the blessing, washed over her, bringing Cordelia's early prayer back to mind.
Mold me into the woman you intended me to be, so that I may be the wife I long to be.
Shane turned in Oliver's embrace and wrapped her arms around him, tucking her head on his shoulder as her heart whispered, God, yes.
A while later, Oliver led her to the couch and, settling his arm around her shoulders, he turned an inquiring gaze on her. "What did you say up in the mountains when you prayed?"
Shane huffed then, tucking her cheek on his shoulder, she reached for his suspender and slid her fingers along the smooth elastic. "Oh, I don't know, something along the lines of, 'God, if you're really there please help. I can't bear to lose Oliver.'"
He squeezed her shoulder then set his fingers dancing in soothing circles along her back. "That's a good place to start. Prayer after all, is simply talking to God. Pouring out your heart, your fears, your wants and needs for others and for yourself."
He fell silent, and Shane could feel him contemplating. She waited, watching the fire pop and crackle in the hearth.
At length, he said, "You wrote a letter to God once. How did you know to do that?"
Shane smiled then lifted her head to watch the curiosity play over his features. "You may find this surprising, but I went to church as a kid."
Oliver's brows lifted as the corners of his lips curved. "I would actually say, I am not surprised. There's been too much evidence over the years to support your possession of at least a passing familiarity." His fingers paused their absent circling as his brow furrowed. "Did you ever memorize the Lord's Prayer?"
Shane grimaced and shrugged. "All I remember is a lot of arts and thees. It didn't make much sense at the time." She let her gaze return to the bare Christmas tree, then whispered, "After Daddy left, none of it made any sense."
Oliver cupped her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Why don't we start there? It is most complete prayer I know."
Shane nodded against his shoulder.
Oliver's soft, soothing tone took on a patient, teaching quality. "Our Father—that would be God."
Shane snorted and, leaning back, she rolled her eyes as her lips widened in a wry grin. "I got that."
Oliver's cheeks wrinkled in shared amusement. "Who art in heaven—He lives in heaven."
Shane nodded. "Got that one, too." Now beyond her certainty of the prayer's wording, she lay her head back on his chest and settled in for the rest of Oliver's quiet instruction.
"Hallowed be thy name." His voice warmed with awe. "This is acknowledging He is holy."
Shane nodded. As Oliver progressed through the prayer, reciting and explaining it, the words began to seep into her heart anchoring to long dormant memories. Suddenly, she joined him in the easy cadence. "Give us this day. . .our daily bread. . .and forgive us our. . ." Brow furrowing, she searched for the missing word.
"Debts," Oliver prompted.
Shane shook her head and looked up at him. "No, I'm sure it wasn't debts."
Oliver's lips parted, and his eyes gleamed with understanding. "Ah, you must be thinking of trespasses, which is used by most Protestant denominations."
"That's right. Trespasses. So, where did debts come from all of a sudden?"
Brows lifting with an imperious objection, an arched tone laced his words. "It's not all of a sudden. The Presbyterian church was founded in Scotland. The people there had no concept of trespassing because there were no laws against it. But debts, or owing someone something, was a commonplace idea."
Shane shook her head. Of course, he would know. Her lips pulled back in a wide, adoring smile as she patted his chest. "All right then. Debts. Now, what's next?"
Later that night, Shane turned off her bathroom light and climbed into bed. Worn out from the emotional turmoil of the day, yet marveling at the gentle peace that filled her, she snuggled under her down comforter. Then, turning on her side, she kissed her fingers and touched the empty pillow beside her.
She closed her eyes and whispered, "Thank you for Oliver, God. Give him sweet dreams and a peaceful night's rest."
Her thumb touched her engagement ring, rubbing the smooth moonstone as she added, "And be the third strand in our future together. The perfect love that binds us to each other and to You."
With an easy, peaceful smile, she drifted off to sleep.
End
