Thank you so much for your reviews of the first chapter of Contemplative. Martha Williamson creates such depth in her characters is not difficult to allow one's imagination to get carried away with possibilities and questions. In TTA Oliver enters the DLO on Thursday morning not in the best of moods. How did he get there? Where did his contemplations on Tuesday and Wednesday take him? Eric Mabius certainly makes Oliver's struggle believable, even heart-wrenching. I hope you don't find Tuesday and Wednesday too frustrating. Saturday awaits us all.

TUESDAY

When daylight finally breaks Oliver does everything possible to lead a structured, organized, intentional life. They will do what they do best. They will deliver. The sooner the contents of this ripped and mangled box are out of the office the better. There is also a tux to fit and a party to plan. A part of him is glad that today they will spend most of the time going their separate ways. Perhaps he can think more clearly.

However, she does look particularly lovely with her blonde hair against that royal blue coat. He thinks how smart and lovely she is – and totally unaware of where his mind keeps going. He cannot help himself from reaching out and touching her coat sleeve when they part.

As five o'clock nears he looks at his watch and determines that he has been successful. He smiles. Enjoying tea and sandwiches served by a distinguished gentleman is such an orderly, civilized pleasantry. Rita solves the riddle of the undeliverable dress. The package will be gone tomorrow. His dad solves the problems of the previously unplanned party (regardless of his reservations therewith), and he solves – well, he helps Norman and avoids spending unnecessary time with her.

It is now well past five yet he briskly walks back to the office once more. He merely wants to check on things. No one is there. They all are busy with wedding plans. He goes to his desk and picks up the stack of letters left for his attention and quickly thumbs through them. He taps them on the desk so that they are perfectly aligned and neatly places them in a tray for his care tomorrow. Everything has a place and everything is in its place. He looks around the room. He knows his place here. He is certain of his role. He is sure of his lines. In many respects today he is his best self - the astute leader of this detective pack and wise friend to Norman. He feels good about his day.

About to leave he slips his hand in his overcoat pocket and finds the business card from the men's shop where he was fitted for his tuxedo. He is stopped in his tracks by a little tiny card.

Instead of leaving he leans back against his desk, crosses his legs at the ankles, and continues to look at the little white card. His memory carries him back to the men's shop and to the earlier conversation with Norman. The topic of the week is inescapable. All of this talk of wedding and marriage not only makes him contemplate the future, but it also makes him remember his past.

Somehow he is in no hurry to go home. The house is empty after all.

He is a little chilly in an empty DLO. He slowly moves to the DLO fireplace – their makeshift heater in their substandard space. He sits down, contemplating. He watches the flames burning and leaping within the stove as he absentmindedly taps the business card on the arm of the chair.

Tuxedo, wedding dress, best man, maid of honor – all parts of a ceremony he never had. He never proposed. He never had much of marriage either. He thinks of how terribly different his relationship and marriage to Holly were from everything about Norman and Rita's relationship. He can hear Norman awkwardly say, "When Rita and I first got together we talked about everything." He and Holly communicated about nothing. With Holly he rushes into the movie before he reads the marquee. He sees it now – in neon lights: Parental Guidance Suggested.

He readily admits to himself that he sought no counsel. He sought neither the guidance of his dad nor his Heavenly Father. He shakes his head at his own folly. "Oh God."

He folds the already small card in half and places it back into his pocket.

He knows that he and Holly were more of a chemistry experiment that went all wrong than a love story. He had settled for fireworks instead of an eternal flame. He is wiser for it. In many ways he isn't the same man. He will not make that mistake again.

He leans forward. He leans closer to the flame, props his forearms on his legs, and interlocks his fingers. His thoughts are a jumble of Holly, himself, and her.

He recalls the first spark that occurred between them one night while dancing in the DLO. It frightens him, leaves him breathless, and catches him completely off guard. He squelches it immediately for the sake of his marriage and for her sake as well. That decision does not require prayer. He knows what to do. Integrity and fidelity are ingrained in him.

Nevertheless as soon as his marriage is over to whom does he go? He goes straight to her.

Tonight as he seeks the warmth of a fire in the DLO he thinks about how he never feels cold when she is there. Holly nearly froze him to death. Even at 2 a.m. on an unusably cold spring night sitting in a porch swing with her - he is warm.

He cannot help but chuckle thinking of her defending herself with a letter opener. "That's what happened to that letter opener. She must still have it." He lets his thoughts linger here a minute.

He gets warmer just thinking of her and slips out of the sleeves of his topcoat allowing the coat to drape the chair.

He thinks of how she looked in the light of the street lamp – hair slightly mussed by the collar of her coat, makeup smudged from crying – she is attractive to him even in her indignation.

He ponders how he almost loses her that night. She is leaving – leaving because she thinks Holly is staying. He is a little slow on what has motivated this boxing of belongings but he catches what she is saying or not saying. It is clear to him now.

They sit together – a balanced swing. Breathing is easier with her. With Holly it was as if he inhaled the moment they met and didn't really exhale until that night - sitting in a porch swing with her. He remembers her face near his that night and how he wants to kiss her. But he is glad he didn't. It would have been selfish. It was too soon. It would have been wrong. The ring was off his finger but the divorce papers were not signed. But more than that it would have been more of an attempt to kiss away the sting of what he has just been through than about a future with her – a future with her. "Oh my," he says to no one.

He thinks about how natural it is to give to her, to care for her. It is just that porch swings just aren't enough any more. So what is next he wonders.

Instead of wishing to avoid her, he wishes she were there beside him now. He wants to slip his arms around her and say…and say….

"When the time comes you will know your lines." Why is he having so much difficulty with these lines? Granted Norman is talking about something else but the principle is the same. She is his co-star in their love story. Is she a merely chapter in his life or is she the novel? What should his next line be? "Heavenly Father, give me the words, give me wisdom," he prays.

He is tired. He throws his coat over his arm to leave.

He returns home and it is empty. He goes to bed and it is empty.

He spends far too long tossing and turning and contemplating weddings and marriage, relying on his own reasoning ability. He does not realize that the further from Monday and the closer to Thursday he gets the less he relies on prayer and the more he relies on himself.

He is feeling out of sorts. When he can no longer stand thinking of her in particular he lies awake pondering weddings themselves. Why is there much ado about the dress? Is not a nice church dress sufficient? Does one have to serve cake? And really what is all this tossing bouquets? Must one use that terrible, secular, Wagner Bridal Chorus? Somewhere between considering the merits of His Sheep May Safely Graze and Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring he falls into fitful slumber.

WEDNESDAY

Tonight he will go home straight home. He does not linger in the DLO. He did not sleep well last night. He has had enough. Can she never leave well enough alone? Find Jessica's mother? Oh happy day. Once again she pushes to do the impossible. "But with God and the Untied States Post Office nothing is impossible," he hears himself say. His own words mock him. He cannot get a break.

On the drive home he thinks about their early cases together. She has been there no time at all and already has him pretending to be a defense attorney, crawling out of windows, challenging military authority, getting locked in bank vaults. None of this happened to him before she came.

"I hopes she does have some kind of unknown security clearance because she has hacked enough records to go to jail for life," he mumbles to himself as he drives.

He thinks about slipping into a courtroom to prevent a good man from doing a bad thing. "And who was behind that?" he asks himself aloud. He knows. The answer is the same woman who went for coffee only to follow the same distraught man to a cemetery. She is willing to do whatever, go wherever, and call whomever to make a delivery or to save the day.

Suddenly he slams on brakes. He almost runs a stop sign. "This woman is making a wreck of me," he says aloud as if he expects his steering wheel to agree with him.

As he arrives home he bounds up the stone steps to his house. He starts to unlock his front door when he turns and looks behind him - steps of stone. Everything reminds him of her. He loses himself remembering the way she looked that night in Washington, eating a sandwich on cold stone steps. His shoulders drop. She looked so beautiful sitting there with his coat to keep her warm. He should have wrapped himself around her to keep her warm instead of just his coat. "WAIT A MINUTE! WHAT THE SAM HILL?" he says to himself as he fumbles for his house key. He hopes the neighbors did not hear that.

No, her pushing the boundaries and going the extra mile to solve cases are nothing new. She is pushing him to insanity is what she is doing. He manages to unlock the door and enter his house. He hangs his coat in the hall closet – where it belongs. He decides a hot shower before going to bed will wash the day away. No, he will not go to bed with a hint of her perfume tonight. "Keep your mind and your heart clear. Be rational. Get through this week," he tells himself.

Finish shower. Comb hair. Brush teeth. Hang towel. Dress for bed. Turn down bed. Pick up evening devotional guide. Read Bible. Evening verse Proverbs 18:10 – The name of Lord is a strong tower. The righteous run to it and are saved. "You have got to be kidding me. Lord," he sighs.

Just when he meant to leave her outside on the stone steps in his thoughts he allows himself to go back to D.C. To him nothing surpasses D.C. It is their greatest accomplishment and for security reasons the public will never know about it. He is taken by her tenacity and still appalled by the presumptuous advances of another man. "He was a cad." The thought that the scoundrel was able to keep them apart for three months still bothers him. "God help me forgive that man," he says aloud. If being separated from her for three months drives him to despair how could he survive not spending the rest of his life with her?

To spend the rest of his life with her….

He looks at the empty pillow beside him. To spend the rest of his life with her is to wake beside her each morning, to share all the small ordinary wonders of each day, to honor each other, to respect each other, to even bare with each other's little annoyances that really do not matter in the greater scheme of things, and at the end of the day to be grateful that hers is last face you see before you fall asleep. It is to mature in faith together as well as to mature in years. It is to hope to live long enough to still hold hands even when they are withered from age.

He turns on his side and puts his hand on the vacant pillow. He falls asleep quickly and his dreams are filled with her.

At first they are dancing. He is happy. With every whirl her dress changes colors – at first it is blue, then red, then pink, then blue, then red, then pink. Over and over again she spins - first blue then red, then pink, then white. He is confused. He thinks, "Don't stop dancing." But they do stop. She is wearing the wedding dress he found her wearing in the DLO. He is buttoning the dress for her again. Norman, Rita, and his dad are there. He hears Norman say, "You aren't supposed to see the bride before the wedding." They are at his church but it doesn't look like his church. The next moment he is standing at the altar waiting for her. She is coming down a very long aisle. The aisle is so long that he has difficulty seeing her. As she approaches he can tell that she is wearing a wedding dress. Except when she gets to the altar she is carrying a computer tablet instead of a bouquet. He looks across the congregation feeling terrified and there on the back row he glimpses auburn hair. He wants to run but he freezes at the altar.

He wakes unable to return to sleep and unfortunately unable to forget. It is his greatest fear. What if his dreams of her turn into a nightmare?