Dear POstables, thank you so much for your reviews. You are very encouraging to a purely amateur writer. We know that in TTA Oliver was not himself on Thursday but much more at peace on Friday. Here is my take on his mind and his mood and what changed. As always, the characters belong to the wonderfully inspiring Martha Williamson.

THURSDAY

It is Thursday. He is distracted. He nicks himself shaving. He wears a plaid suit that he is having second thoughts about wearing ever again. He trips leaving the house because SOMEONE has moved the furniture for a party that he does not want to host.

He walks into the DLO and there she is – ponytail and navy dress. She doesn't have to turn around. He knows how her eyes look when she wears blue. He feels himself starting to smile just because she is there and he is aggravated at his weakness for her.

"Of course she is engaged in that computer. She probably had some smoothie concoction for breakfast with heaven only knows what ingredients, bee pollen or something," he inwardly grumbles.

He is snarky in his responses to her. And how does she respond? She touches his arm and looks up at him with affection and speaks with gentle words. She steps close enough for him to smell her perfume. For a split second he lets his guard down. He exhales. He relaxes. This release does not last. It only serves to remind him that he has feelings for which he has yet to decide the right words or actions.

He spends the day either trying not to think of her in that way or ruminating on their differences. "What have I done?" He feels nothing but frustration. Is it too much too soon or should it be at all?

The night of the bachelor party is sheer misery. He enters his home that evening with Norman – a place that he should be comfortable – to find a woman rising out of a cake. Granted it is Norman's grandmother on a computer screen, which is probably the cleverest, most creative, and caring idea one could imagine - but still. Still what? It makes him uncomfortable? It makes him love her all the more? "I could have at least been forewarned. Forewarned is forearmed," he thinks to himself.

These musings within his own mind continue to plague him. "Why did I agree to this chaos? It is hot in here. Is it any wonder? Men are everywhere. Time to loosen the tie and roll up the sleeves. At least avoid looking at her – in those black pants – with that blouse off her shoulders – bare porcelain shoulders that carry the fragrance of her perfume. I may be a human antique but I am a male antique! Avoid eye contact – run around and put out coasters - or risk - risk rings on the furniture… or a ring on her…hand? Now that is going too far."

He isn't sure what is more frustrating: trying not to get shrimp sauce everywhere; trying not to think about her as his bride; or simply trying not to notice how she looks tonight.

"Is this what life with her will be…. bedlam? It's bedlam! Life with her would be chaos and computers." He pauses, looking at the empty plastic cup in his hand, hearing her laughter across the room. "…and without her it would be lost and lonely."

Noticing Oliver's mood and distance from her, his dad initiates a conversation on the subject but it isn't the time. They speak briefly again later while cleaning but the moment is interrupted.

Finally everyone is gone – including her. Joe stays in town with him that night. They clear the last of the horrible red plastic cups and the confetti from Ardis Parker-Pennington-Paine's grand entrance.

In typical thoughtful fashion she calls to let him know that she and Rita are at the hotel and to see if she needs to return to help clean the mess her idea created.

She is cheerful and loving. "You sure you don't want us to come back and help clean up?" she asks. Does he want her to come back? COME BACK SHANE. He rolls his eyes. He answers no but deep down inside he thinks, "To want…or not to want…that is the question."

He assures her that he can handle things – and he can handle things. He can discard the remains of a party. He can handle trimming rose bushes and forwarding mail. But can he handle seeing her in a new light?

They say their good byes. Yet he hangs on to the receiver of his phone even after the connection is broken – just standing there – contemplating. His thoughts are interrupted by his dad.

"She called," says Joe, with a smile as he returns the broom and dustpan to the closet.

"Yes," says Oliver, with a heavy exhale, returning the receiver to its cradle.

"All done here," says Joe.

Joe washes his hands in the kitchen sink and walks to the fridge. He takes a beer and hands one to Oliver. The two move from the kitchen to sit on the brown leather sofa, each taking an opposite end of the couch. Joe sips the brew in the bottle. Oliver sits his on a coaster on the coffee table.

"Do want to talk about it?"

"Dad, at first she was this somewhat aggravating colleague," says Oliver, shaking his head as if he is relieving every aggravating moment. "There was always this - this space between us. I would not cross that line. I had no intentions of becoming involved with her. I was married. I asked her to take dance lessons with me so that if Holly returned Holly and I could dance together."

Oliver pauses, shaking his head. He continues.

"I may have failed to explain that to her from the onset."

Silence falls again. His loving dad sits and waits.

"While we were practicing this dance one evening things became – uncomfortable - and I stopped the lessons immediately. Our first true argument followed soon thereafter. I was more than unkind to her. I found her to be….intrusive, meddlesome. I thought of her as a technophile who used her skills to interfere in my life. Looking back, looking back I realize she was an ally – in that moment perhaps my greatest ally. She told me the truth whether I wanted to hear it or not."

Oliver leans forward, props his forearms on his legs, and looks at the floor.

"After the divorce, the space between us narrowed. We were no longer just colleagues we were friends. She is forthright and steadfast and compassionate."

Oliver shifts again and sit back once more.

"The fact that you and I are sitting here together tonight I owe a in large part to her," he says, looking at his dad only to look away in the next breath.

"So many divine deliveries with her….She believes in second chances…in miracles...Sometimes I think she has more faith than I….But then we - we – and everything changed."

"Given your moral code I assume you mean you kissed her and you took your time," says Joe with a smile, trying to make eye contact.

Oliver nods, looks down, and smiles. "That would be accurate."

"She returned from D.C. and we started seeing each other - outside of work,." Now Oliver realizes that he himself is smiling. "But you are aware of that."

But his smile again fades.

"We had an extended trip in the recreational vehicle and somewhere along the way – I stop thinking of her as being one way and instead she is the other – this aggravating technophile is the finest woman I know."

He shakes his head.

"You are losing me," says Joe.

"Dad, the space between us – is gone. She is right here in front of me and I don't know what to do. I pursued her, I waited for her, I wanted her, and now….I do not know what to do."

"Son, you are two different people and you do have to face that. She is cell phone and you are landline. You read books and she reads a Nook. You sing in the choir and she, well does she sing?"

"No, she barely can carry a tune."

"You either accept that or you need to move on. There is always Dal…"

"What?" said Oliver, cutting him off.

"I'm just saying maybe you want someone different – more - intellectual – I don't know."

"She can converse on everything from technology to art. She is intuitive and analytical. She has been integral in solving lost letters. Frankly, I don't know what….what…"

"What you would do without her? Well she is efficient and an asset to you professionally but she does laugh - a lot. I mean you saw her and Rita tonight – if you ever actually looked at her tonight anyway," Joe said clearing this throat and trying not to smile. "And she drinks weird stuff – kumbacha - kombucha."

"Are you serious? I'm a grown man and I drink Yoo-hoo," stated Oliver as a matter of fact. "As far as her laughter is concerned, I find taking joy in life a blessing." He then mumbles and wrings his hands. "Besides, her eyes sparkle when she laughs."

"Well you do live by a certain code of conduct. If you are more comfortable with someone who follows the letter of the law no one does that more than an officer of the law, like Da….

That sentence goes no further. Oliver interrupts immediately.

"She does push at the rules but the intentions of her comportment are admirable. She cares about people she has never met. She is the best friend a person can have. She is fiercely loyal," he says definitively.

"Loyal, is that the best you've got? Son, so are dogs." Joe pauses for a moment, looks at the floor. "I thought you said you kissed her and everything changed," Joe continues as he turns to Oliver, raising his eyebrows and cocking his head. "There has to be a spark. If you don't think of her that way, then you have to let her go. You can't stay with her out of pity."

Now Oliver is stunned. He slides to the edge of the seat.

"PITY! PITY? This is not pity I feel. Just the other day at work she - she – and her bare feet - I couldn't even - well never mind." Oliver sighed and rubbed his brow. "As gentleman I will simply say that is not the problem."

Joe just looks at Oliver.

"You have not meant a word you have said," says Oliver. He looks dejected and uncharacteristically slumps back on the couch.

"Oliver, I think she is a wonderful woman. I thought there was something between the two of you the first time I met her. Son, you may not have realized it but you weren't exactly looking at her as just a friend even then. But you are my son. You and your happiness come first with me always. I still feel as if I am missing something. Where is all of this coming from? I thought things were going pretty well between you two. Did something go wrong?"

"Wrong? No. If anything it is just the opposite," says Oliver. "I knew things were becoming more serious day by day. Then we returned a wedding dress…. "

Oliver explains the entire story until the moment he walks into the DLO.

"And there she stood," said Oliver.

"What did you do?"

"She didn't know I was there. I walked up behind her and buttoned the dress for her," said Oliver.

"Whoa," said Joe.

"She was embarrassed and I may have teased her a little," said Oliver.

"May have?" said Joe with a chuckle. "Son, is this what this is about? Is she pressuring you to marry her?"

"No. Absolutely not. It is not like that. She said all the right things. She didn't think she would need the dress. She was going to remake it into something else but Dad, I could see her eyes in the mirror."

Tears well within Oliver's own eyes. "Later she told me that she never meant for me to see her to forget it. She said weddings have a way of making people who aren't getting married feel uncomfortable."

"You feel uncomfortable?"

"Yes," said Oliver, nodding his head.

"It seems to me that if you didn't want to face her in that wedding dress, you could have walked away. She isn't pressuring you. I'm not pressuring you. Somewhere deep inside I think you know the truth. There is a big difference between wanting and loving. I don't think you have a vision problem in the way you see her. You may have a courage problem. It's not called a leap of faith for nothing."

"I just want to be sure I'm landing on the right side this time."

The two men sit quietly. Joe will sit there all night if Oliver needs him. Several minutes pass before Oliver stands.

"She is wonderful. Isn't she, dad?"

"Yes son, she is."

"Dad, if you do not mind, I think I need to take a walk."

"Alone, I assume."

Oliver merely nods.

"Be careful. Stay on the main streets."

Oliver gets his coat and goes out into the night.

There are stars and a crescent moon. The night is crystal clear. Oliver wishes his mind was clear. It is cold – but it is always colder when she isn't there. At first he walks quickly, but as he approaches places where memories now seem transformational events he slows his pace.

He passes Washington Park – suddenly he remembers how he pushes her in the swing on their very first case together. Funny, he has almost forgotten pushing her – and she was barefooted. She is curious and tenacious and compassionate and courageous. She was not expecting to be a part of their lives yet she gives herself fully and an innocent man is freed from prison and two people deeply in love are reunited. Has she freed him? Are they two people who should be united?

He recalls her meeting him in this very park when she thinks it is Joe who is gone. "How many times has she stood by me?" he asks himself. "How seldom she has asked me to stand by her? Once - perhaps."

He walks downtown by the business center where in a few hours a coffee cart will appear and folks will buy tall Steamboat Americanos and lattes and make idle chatter. He wonders if coffee would taste the same without her – would anything be the same without her.

He walks by a building where a dance studio was lost in poker game. Here it is in retrospect that he begins to lose his heart – no, not lose - find his heart – find courage to face the truth, to move on with his life. He walks by what was once a bank where he was once locked in a vault – locked in a vault filled with love and with her. Finally he walks by a house with porch swing. He stops at the street corner, looks at the small yellow house, and prays.

"Heavenly Father, she has altered my life and I have fallen in love with her. She has become my first thought in morning and my last thought in the evening. I asked for a second chance and you provide it. I now seek your wisdom and guidance. Your word teaches us that you did not give us a spirit of fear but of love. If loving her, if loving her as my wife is right and pleases You, then remove from me this spirit of fear, this caution, this confusion. If you made us two to become one flesh give me the words to say and the freedom to say them. If you have made us two different people ultimately to walk two different paths, then I will accept that. Whatever is your will I do not wish to cause her pain or heartache. Give me peace that I may know what to do. I place all my anxiety on you because you promise to care for us all. Guide my heart, guide my life, O Thou great Jehovah. Amen."

Now he is home. Now he can rest.