But Never Doubt I Love

By Felicia Ferguson

See intro for disclaimer.

Oliver

Oliver sat in the Jag, engine running, and stared out the windshield, seeing nothing. He had no idea what Shane had said on the drive back to the DLO, and was infinitely appreciative that whatever the topic might have been, it required little to no comment from him. He had no thoughts to spare for it.

Shane would leave him. If not today, then one day. As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, he was too experienced not to expect it. And he couldn't avoid it. Every woman who truly mattered in his life had left. It had happened with his mother. With Holly. So, it would surely happen with Shane.

Being afraid of losing someone someday steals the joy of having them today.

Lt. Walker's words were true, and they were certainly true for him. His preoccupation with returning Fred, their awful fight in the DLO, even his inability to fully grasp a fiftieth wedding anniversary were all evidence that his joy was being stolen.

But he had no other alternative. He would love Shane forever, but that didn't mean he would spend forever with her. And when she did finally leave, for whatever reason, he wasn't certain he would ever recover. What would he feel after her departure? Would he feel anything at all? Would he ever feel safe to feel. . .anything. . .again?

Oliver walked through the gate and up the path toward Shane's house. Sharon and Dad stood cutting roses from the bush grown from the clipping Oliver had given her several years ago. Dad took a basket laden with cut yellow roses from Sharon and pulled off his gloves. "Hey, how'd it go with Firefighter Fred?"

Oliver flinched and rummaged for something resembling happiness. Tugging at his shirt cuff, he said, "Oh, mission almost accomplished."

Sharon paused in her rose cutting and shot him a perturbed look. "Almost?"

Oliver flinched and pushed another smile across his lips. "Ah, yes. We deliver Fred to Owen tomorrow."

Sharon's dry, disapproving tone cracked the air between them like a whip. "The same tomorrow that your wedding is happening on?"

Oliver rose on his toes and brow furrowed, he mentally grasped for some control over the conversation. "Yes. As a matter of fact."

Sharon stole a glance at Joe as if seeking either explanation or support.

Oliver took in a quick breath as he counted the number of roses that already lay in the basket. Irritation flickered through him. Now was not the season for cutting back roses. For what possible reason could they be destroying Shane's beautiful plant? "Mrs. McInerney, may I ask why are you removing Shane's roses?" The words popped from his lips with a slicing frustration.

But Sharon remained unconcerned. "We need them for your sacred space."

Oliver glanced away as pieces of Shane's earlier monologue about the tabernacle flitted through his memory. Gritting his teeth, he held his tense response at bay. Sharon would be his mother-in-law as of tomorrow night and, no matter for how long that might be, he had to be civil.

Dad slipped around her, sympathy flashing in his eyes. "Give her a chance, Ollie," he whispered. "You two aren't so different, you know."

Oliver huffed. How on earth could Dad say that? Outside of a love for Shane and Shakespeare, they were absolutely nothing alike.

Sharon cut another long stem rose and kissed the petals. "Thank you for your service."

Oliver closed his eyes and prayed for patience.

"Joe told me clams and red wine were your go-to comfort food." Sharon paused and leveled a curious, but sincere look on him as she removed her gardening gloves. "Are you currently in need of comfort?"

What was it about her? How could she slice right to his heart and lay it bare with seemingly the least amount of effort? Oliver took in a quick breath and decided to side-step the question. "I can't say I've given it much thought."

But again, she wielded her verbal knife as skillfully as her garden shears. "Oh, I bet you've put a lot of thought into it." Before he could answer, she plunged on, equally curious and sincere. "How long did you think before you asked Shane to marry you?"

As they talked of love at first sight, a failed marriage, and his reliance on faith to see him through the pain, Oliver's guard eased. Perhaps this was what Dad meant about their commonality? After all, Sharon had also had a spouse leave. Perhaps shared experiences were how they could best bond.

The conversation eased into her positive assessment of his character, and Oliver relaxed a bit further. "Lover of Shakespeare, and mail, and. . .my beautiful daughter. . ." But then came the most brutal of slices, cutting him to the quick. ". . .And tomorrow. . .you are going to marry her and you need to get your act together before then instead of pushing it all down with. . .shellfish and pinot noir."

Oliver jumped to his feet and paced. Turning on his heel and clearing his throat, he conducted a desperate search for cover, for words, for bandages—anything except the truth Sharon seemed to so easily see. Unable to find anything but that truth, he halted.

And yet, he remained bereft of words. Shane would one day leave. He would once again be alone. And there was nothing he could about either. Finally, he admitted the only other thing he knew to be true. "I just. . .I just don't know what to do."

They were the same words he had spoken to Norman when he again had no direction where Shane was concerned. But as he spoke them this time, Ardis's advice echoed from the past. "Well, you begin by doing the thing that scares you the most. What you have to do is face up to the scary, and the rest is easy."

Sharon's empathetic gaze softened even more. "You need to heal," she offered as she stood to face him.

Sharon was right. He did need to heal. But how when every fiber in his being screamed that marriage doesn't last forever—even if love does?

She then spoke of family and love, adding herself to both categories, but on the heels of that comfort came a new fear. That he would one day again lose not only a wife but a mother as well.

Dad pushed through Shane's front door and glanced between Oliver and Sharon. A soft smile flickered over his lips. He hopped down the steps, stopping halfway down and said, "Shane called. She said Rita called her and said someone named Charley was in labor. Said she and Norman were going to the hospital with her, so they wouldn't be coming for dinner."

Sharon spread her arms wide and let out a disgruntled huff. "Well, that's just great. We're up to our ears in steamed clams and half the office is off on some baby adventure."

Oliver's cheeks crinkled into a grimace. The perfect excuse to escape lay within easy reach. "Ah. . .I'm sorry, but. . .I believe I should forego dinner as well." He glanced from Dad to Sharon then tugged at his shirt cuffs. "I have some. . .thinking I need to do."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Like you haven't done enough of that already. But do what you need to do." With a fond pat for Oliver's cheek, she picked up her gloves and shears and returned to denuding Shane's rose bush.

Dad descended the remaining steps and placed a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "Why don't you head back to the DLO and get ready for that delivery tomorrow?" He flicked a wry glance toward Sharon and lowered his voice a bit. "We've got some finishing touches to put on her tabernacle. . .oh, and wait a second."

Dad squeezed Oliver's shoulder then hurried to his truck and pulled a shopping bag from the passenger seat. "Make sure to give this to Shane when you see her. I was supposed to get it to her this afternoon, but the church is in the opposite direction." Dad lifted his brows and flashed a reassuring smile. "It'll be okay, Ollie. But you and Shane do need to talk."

Oliver took the shopping bag with barely a glance for its contents then nodded.

Dad peered at him and murmured, "I'll see you tomorrow, son." The words were buoyed with a quiet, encouraging confidence. But still, Oliver's lips flinched. Yes, there would be a wedding. But how long would the marriage last?

He climbed in the Jag and set the bag in the passenger seat then pulled away. His preference for contemplating was walking, however, driving offered a similar solace. Yet as the miles passed, he found few answers and felt only the increasing weight of despair.

When he reached the post office parking lot hours later, he could finally admit Mrs. Parker Pennington Payne was correct. He had to face what scared him. And Shane's future leave-taking terrified him.

But even though he was assured of its eventual occurrence, perhaps if he had a timeline for it he might not be completely devastated when it happened. Taking in a deep, halting breath, Oliver grabbed the package from the passenger seat and headed inside. As he pushed through the DLO doors, he prayed, Please God, help me survive this.