Vows Redux

By Felicia Ferguson

Note: I do NOT give any Artificial Intelligence, AI bot, AI program like ChatGPT or any other program or user of its kind permission to mine, scrape, or otherwise use my creative work for its learning.

Author's note: I need to get two chapters done on my current novel today, so of course the SSD muse decides to wake up and point to a shiny object (in this case, the ending scene of Vows). And because the last thing a writer really wants to do is to write on her current project when she has to write on her current project, it's an easy diversion—and a lot more fun than cleaning my house. LOL

Although I love and honor Martha's writing, I and a few other Twitter POstables have lingering doubts about the realism of Vows's ending. There has been too much character growth of all four characters and ShOliver (especially Shane) have waited too long for the moment when she and Oliver are finally one for the Fab Four to go back to the DLO to start another letter mystery before Mr. & Mrs. O'Toole leave on their honeymoon. So with apologies to Martha, I've tweaked the ending to make it better fit the canon and characters (IMO).

As always, any dialogue or voiceover you recognize is not mine. It and the characters belong to the incredibly gifted Martha Williamson, Eric Mabius, Kristin Booth, Yan-Kay Crystal Lowe, and Geoff Gustafson. I'd love to hear your thoughts, POstables!

Part one

Satisfaction rippled through Oliver as the foursome left the glowing light of the Brown Palace Hotel. Shane, his love and now his wife forever, walked beside him still clad in her wedding dress as they recapped the reception's most memorable moments with Norman and Rita. It had been a wonderful wedding and a lovely evening celebrating love, friendship, the past, and the future. He tucked her closer, savoring the safety of his heart with her and silently vowing once more to always treasure hers.

As the conversation wound to a natural close, Oliver's gaze drifted away. Streetlight gleamed against the wet asphalt newly cleaned by the gigantic streetsweepers. But something tucked in a pile of leaves caught his eye. Was that a …?

Delight lifted his lips. "Oh my goodness!" He leaned down and brushed away the leaves. It was indeed a letter. He tugged it out and marveled at his discovery. "Oh goodness. Postmarked. Stamped." Could it be in any better condition? He flipped over the envelope and joy filled his assessment. "Goodness. Look, the wax seal is still intact."

Rita and Norman studied the intriguing development. Oliver flipped it back over and Norman's brow wrinkled, the address catching his gaze. His eyes narrowed as he analyzed the script. "Handwriting indicates male, thirties, slight tremor."

Her curiosity pricked, Shane leaned in for her own closer look and added yet another clue to the mystery. "Commemorative rose stamp."

Rita grinned as she pulled Norman's tux jacket tighter around her against the cooling evening. "Maybe it's a love letter."

Norman nodded, but he continued to focus on the writing. "Hand-mixed ink. Italian probably."

The clues mounted, but were there still more to glean? A slight odor reached Oliver's nose. He lifted it and took a quick sniff. What was that scent? Perhaps Norman would have an idea. Oliver handed over the envelope readily, eager to learn more.

Norman waved it in front of his nose like a perfumed paper stick, allowing the scent to waft through the air. "Wildebeest … no … Yak!"

Norman's nose once again did not fail. Impressed, Oliver rose on his toes. Perhaps it was Mrs. Parker Pennington Payne's predilection for yak milk which had afforded Norman such a quick reply.

Rita smiled at him, pleased and proud, then leaned in to peer at the address. "Does that say 'Alameda' and 'Alamo' or something?"

Norman's brows lifted. "Oh. There's a zoo in Alamogordo, New Mexico. Lots of yaks there."

Shane once more joined in, her curiosity now fully overriding her earlier fatigue. She steadied the envelope with her free hand, then retrieved it from Norman for her own intent perusal. "Postmark could be New Mexico."

Oliver pointed to the back of the envelope and Shane obligingly turned it over. "The, uh, seal seems like some sort of family crest, perhaps."

Norman, now fully invested in the mystery, happily offered the first investigative option. "Oh, I have a book on seals and stamps of the Southwest back at the DLO. It's just a block from here."

Shane handed the letter back to Norman as Oliver pondered the suggestion. A letter mystery. What a thoughtful wedding gift. His thumb traced his new ring, slid into place only hours ago sealing Shane's love and commitment to him. Joy lifted his lips. Although it was their wedding day, Shane would understand, and probably even appreciate, the mysterious letter's draw.

But a question silenced his agreement to Norman's suggestion. Is this how you want to start your lives together? Oliver gave the query full due, allowing his past choices and their future life to have their own say. His gaze dropped to the letter then turned to Norman and Rita before finally resting on Shane.

No, he was now a married man and that relationship would take precedence from here on out.

Contentment settled over his heart and Oliver rose on his toes, professionalism and trust wreathing his words. "Norman? As the DLO is now in your capable hands for the duration of our honeymoon, I'd like you to handle this investigation. Follow the leads as you see fit. And Godspeed."

Shane's mouth dropped open and her eyes widened, surprise and a new sense of wonder filling her gaze. Norman sobered as the weight of Oliver's transfer of authority settled on his shoulders. He dipped his head, confidence radiating from his eyes. Beside him, Rita beamed with pride. Oliver grinned. He had chosen well.

The Dormans linked arms and turned toward the DLO. The streetlamps basking them in a halo of white light. Rita's soft question followed by Norman's ready explanation of the distinctive scents of wildebeests and yaks drifted through the evening air.

Yes. The letter was in the best of hands.

Shane looped her arm back though Oliver's and tucked her head on his shoulder. "That was wonderful of you, Oliver."

Oliver's lips twitched. "It seemed appropriate given our extended absence." He brushed a kiss across her forehead. "Now, what say you Mrs. O'Toole?"

Shane lifted her head, and her gaze met his. Curiosity mixed with fatigue in the blue depths. She raised her brows in silent question.

Oliver's eyes dropped to her lips then returned to meet her own. She was his woman. His love. His wife. Forever. Heat licked at him, deepening his voice. "Will you … dance … with me?"

Understanding flared in her eyes, desire silencing her curiosity and banishing her fatigue. She leaned up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her wedding heels jostling against his back. Her mouth met his, open, welcoming and he responded. Sensation poured through him as the rightness of his choice crystalized in the glow of passion. When they parted, he tucked his forehead against hers, grasping for breath and purchase in the waves of desire.

Eyes glittering with promise, Shane shifted in his arms and pressed her lips to his cheek. "We'll make time, Mr. O'Toole."

Oliver turned them back to the hotel as Shane once again tucked her head against his shoulder. He lifted her knuckles to his lips eager to savor the most beautiful dance of life with the most beautiful of brides.

To deliver what is lost, to redeem what has been forgotten, to faithfully bring to completion the epic journey of a humble envelope and whatever dwells in that sacred space inside, that is a noble calling. And as POstables, it will always be our calling. But on this night and from here forward, our lives are no longer solely devoted to those we serve. We are now and forever, first and foremost, devoted to each other, as husbands and wives, as friends and colleagues, as the O'Tooles and the Dormans.