Author's Note: Merry Christmas my dear POstables. This is a companion piece to Merry Christmas Oliver s/14122502/1/Merry-Christmas-Oliver.
There is so much to unpack here, and I know many of you have watched For Christmas many times, as I have too. There are so many interpretations of what Oliver was thinking as he stared at the angel at the nativity scene during his walk back to the DLO. This is mine. I hope you enjoy my musings.
I own none of these characters. They belong to the brilliant Martha Williamson and were brought to life by the incomparable Eric Mabius and Kristin Booth. You will recognize some of the dialogue from the movie. It is too good for me to change it.
I Took A Taxi Home
Oliver's hand stretched out in a final goodbye. His eyes misted as the car's rear lights dimmed. With heavy steps, he returned to the lobby and set to work. An hour later, he scooped up the last straw that had lined baby Jesus' manger, carefully getting to the trash bin without spilling it. Stacks of chairs lined the wall next to the wooden crates that, just an hour ago, had been arranged into a makeshift stable. Remnants of their last-minute Christmas pageant were packed away except for the giant, teeth-baring Wiseman, Bearthazar, who was safely tucked away in the corner of the lobby.
###
Morning comes early, two days before Christmas, especially when you work for the Post Office and thousands of children rely on you to get their letters to Santa. The Dear Santa project had been in full swing for the last six weeks, but today was the final day to wrap the last gifts to be delivered by the following day, thanks to dedicated postal workers. Oliver had his own stack of brightly wrapped packages in varying patterns of red and green waiting for delivery.
He carefully unzipped the garment bag hanging in his closet, inspecting his tuxedo for tonight's Postal ball. Straightening the pocket square, he flicked a piece of lint from the shoulder and smoothed a wrinkle out of the white scarf that hung around the neck before rezipping the bag. The matching shoe bag was opened, and he inspected the highly polished black shoes similarly. Satisfied with the sparkle, he tucked them back in the bag, pulling on the drawstring to close it.
Last year, he'd skipped the ball. It was the first Christmas since Holly left, and the dread of sitting solo while postal acquaintances stopped by his table asking about his wife was an uncomfortable prospect, so staying home was easier. His cheeks still burned when he thought of the only time Holly attended the Postal celebration wearing a gold dress that revealed more of her decolletage than what Oliver thought was appropriate for the occasion. She spent the entire evening clinging to him. As the night went on, her drinking did, too, and her inhibitions faded quickly. She stumbled before some colleagues, and Oliver promptly whisked her home. But she didn't go quietly, and he had to practically drag her out of there.
A shiver ran down Oliver's spine at the memory. This year would be different. Bouncing on his toes, Oliver grabbed the bags and took them to the car. Rumor on the sorting floor was they were adding a band and dancing this year.
###
Norman's gasp sounded like he might swallow his tongue, but as Oliver followed his gaze, his stomach catapulted into his throat. Rita's wardrobe choice was definitely a departure from her usual festive red, green, and gold attire. Instead, she chose a short black dress embellished with sparkling detail that emphasized her slender silhouette.
But it was Shane who commanded his attention. As she entered the ballroom, everything else faded into the background. Her elegant updo accentuated the curve of her long, slender neck. Despite his attempts to remain professional, he swallowed hard as he reminded himself she was just a colleague. The Lady in Red song played in his mind as she gracefully floated into the room, each layer of her skirt flowing with every step.
She disappeared from his sight, and when he found her again, it was on the arm of a tall, dark gentleman, and they were headed to the dance floor. Who was this man? His jaw dropped, and his muscles tensed. With every giggle that lit up her face, he twitched uncontrollably, his punch sloshing precariously close to the rim of his glass. A slow burn swept over him as he watched her share their dance steps with the unknown man. Something powerful overtook him, pushing him to act in a way he knew was not his place. In an uncharacteristically bold move, he approached, daring to "cut in" on their dance. His cheeks burned, remembering her laugh when he admonished her for sharing their dance steps.
Dinner was no less tense when Shane lost her necklace, and the stranger, Jordan, found it before he could. Clenching his teeth, Oliver had no choice but to watch as Jordan read the inscription to her. 'To C with love, Mom and Dad.' Awkwardly standing off to the side, Oliver felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he watched Jordan's fingers touch Shane's skin as he closed the clasp on the back of her neck.
Oliver's effort to flaunt his intelligence proved unsuccessful when Jordan effortlessly kept up with him, word for word, in a lively exchange about the origin of the term "turf." He began to wonder if he had finally met his match. As Jordan joined them at the DLO and they began their pursuit of the rightful owner of the letter to God, Oliver thought he could assert his superiority. After all, the DLO was his 'turf.' That didn't work either, as Jordan was the one who tracked down the ambulance company and confirmed their suspicions as to where they might find the letter writer.
Trying to get past the front desk at Denver Mercy proved harder than expected, and Oliver realized he needed help from Jordan. When they successfully located the letter writer, he had to admit maybe Jordan could be an asset.
As soon as Oliver saw Hannah, he was struck by her blonde hair. It fell in loose waves over her shoulder, not unlike Ms. McInerney's. He felt a tug on his heart when her father explained their situation. Shane's words, "Once a child loses hope at Christmas, it's hard to get it back," felt more than a platitude. Judging from how her voice trailed off to a whisper and her eyes filled, he knew the Casey's story affected her more deeply. As Oliver watched her, he yearned for the time to delve deeper into her reaction, but if they were going to stage a pageant by tomorrow, they would need to get busy.
Jordan's request to return to the DLO caught him by surprise. What could he want? Was he interested in Shane, Ms. McInerney? Did he think Oliver could be helpful in that pursuit? Oliver was puzzled and curious enough to agree.
Following their etymology clash at the dinner table, Oliver thought maybe he could best Jordan at chess. The clang of Yoo Hoo bottles rang through the DLO as he opened the refrigerator and grabbed two, one for him and one for Jordan. Oliver started the match by moving his king's pawn two spaces forward. Jordan returned the move, bringing his queenside bishop pawn forward. This went on for several minutes as each jockeyed to take control of the center and protect their king.
Jordan studied the bottle of chocolatey liquid and commented. "I haven't had one of these in decades."
Oliver huffed. "I find a certain comfort in things of the past." He wasn't quite sure why he needed to explain this to Jordan. There was an inexplicable familiarity about him, but he couldn't help but be suspicious of his interest in Shane. Yet, there was something about Jordan's unassuming demeanor that made it easier for Oliver to let his guard down. He was still skeptical, but his humble persona made it easier to open up to him, even if just a bit. Oliver scrutinized Jordan's every move on the chessboard and off, looking for any inconsistency that might prove he wasn't as harmless as he seemed.
Jordan's question, "How long have you been married?" sounded innocent enough, but it was not one Oliver heard often. His eyes were drawn to the shimmering gold band on his finger as he gazed down at his left hand.
"The wedding was three years ago." He took a swig of his drink. "Being married is another story."
"Always is."
Oliver stared at Jordan, his mind trying to determine the motive behind Jordan's statement. Was it genuine empathy or a veiled invitation for Oliver to share more? Before he knew it, he'd shared the whole story. He felt a growing sense of unease as if he were revealing too much of himself to a stranger. The pit in his stomach grew deeper as he spoke the words and realized what it must sound like to a stranger. He half expected Jordan's empathy to turn to judgment or, even worse, pity. Instead, he remained gracious, and if he did have an opinion, he kept it to himself.
Jordan's hand slipped into his jacket and pulled out a letter. "I've been carrying this letter for a long time. It's another letter to God."
Oliver slipped the three-hole, wide-rule school grade paper from its tattered envelope and read. "Dear God, I miss my daddy. Please make him want to come back home. I just want a happy family again." Oliver took a breath that filled his lungs, and his groan filled the DLO as he released it. "Ugh, these are the hard ones."
"But I've enclosed the answer with it. I think you're the one to deliver it."
Oliver's gaze sharpened as he contemplated the daunting task. Was his rule that 'no letter to Santa should be unanswered, and all gifts and responses must be delivered by Christmas Eve' coming back to haunt him? This wasn't a letter to Santa but an even more important letter to God, and Ms. McInerney's words reverberated in his head, 'Once a child loses hope at Christmas, it's hard to get it back.'
###
The scrape of furniture being moved around the center of the Mailbox Grilled greeted Oliver when he arrived on Christmas Eve morning. Norman, Rita, and Jordan were busy setting up an area to mimic the pageant's location to block out the setting. Rita took a break to help Oliver pinpoint possible areas to search for the owner of the letter Jordan had given him. His heart sank at the thought of the little child's face when they opened their door eagerly, only to be met with Oliver.
The team talked through the logistics of the pageant, which included convincing Ms. McInerney she was needed in the role of the angel. As everyone dispersed, Jordan approached him with a question that caught him off guard. He had never considered it, but why did he call Shane Ms. McInerney? It was a strange feeling to have a person he had just met pick up on something he hadn't noticed about himself. Or had he noticed it and just never acknowledged it?
Oliver prided himself on his ability to focus on a task and work until it had been completed. It was what he felt set him and his department apart and allowed them to accomplish the goals he set for himself and his team. But when he returned to the DLO at the appointed time, the envelope still weighed heavy, tucked away in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. His steady steps echoed in the air of an empty DLO. He scanned the space for his team members, calling out to anyone, "Hello?" Dialing from memory, his heart raced when he heard the strain in Shane's voice. If she wasn't crying, she was very close to it. He didn't need to hear it twice. When she pleaded with him to come, he couldn't get there fast enough.
Oliver prayed all the way to Denver Mercy. Traffic was a frustrating mess of snow and last-minute Christmas Eve shoppers. He was out of breath by the time he reached the elevator. Staring at the numbered buttons, he tried to remember what floor was Obstetrics. He pushed five and hoped he was right. He bolted out of the elevator even before the doors were fully opened. There, he found her. Two blonde heads tucked against each other. Hannah was on Shane's lap, safely wrapped in her arms.
After the update on Amy's condition, Oliver went to the only place he could think of, the chapel. Pulling the letter from his suit jacket, he studied the envelope and wondered who was the child who wrote those words, 'To God,' in cerulean blue crayon. Were they at home watching for a familiar car as their breath fogged the window? He didn't realize anyone had entered until he heard the door slam shut. Oliver quickly tucked the letter back into its envelope when he saw Jordan walking down that aisle.
"Any news?"
"Still in surgery." Jordan took a seat across from Oliver. "Funny. You never know what the day will bring."
"Funny?" Oliver said. "I had to do something that really mattered today, and I couldn't get a block past the Mailbox Grille."
Jordan's telling of the legend of the fourth wise man was a message that it isn't always the result that's most important but the journey and who you encounter along the way. It was a difficult lesson for someone like Oliver, whose job is getting mail to the intended endpoint.
As he took a moment to reflect on his day, he couldn't help but recall the encounters that kept him from accomplishing his initial task. At first, he thought they were just obstacles in his path, but he soon realized that their presence had a deeper meaning. The thug on the street, Mrs. Genzinger and her Christmas party decorations, and Mr. Shanahan ringing the bell were not there to deter him from his mission. Instead, he realized that they were placed in his path as an opportunity for him to show the same compassion and care that the fourth Wiseman did.
Oliver couldn't explain it, but somehow, Jordan delved into his thoughts and articulated precisely what he'd been feeling this Christmas season. It wasn't until Jordan reminded him that, though he felt alone this year, he wasn't. He never was. All the trappings of Christmas and the busyness of the season get in the way of remembering that it is the time to remember that love came down to find us, wherever we are and in whatever circumstance. Oliver's neck twisted, and his mouth went dry when Jordan said, 'Or on a rock by a tree at the beach.'
Oliver couldn't breathe. He struggled to meet Jordan's eyes. His voice was raspy. "You're not from the post office."
"I never said I was."
Norman flew in and out of the chapel, unacknowledged by Oliver or Jordan. Jordan got up to leave. With his hand on Oliver's shoulders, he gave him his last encouragement. "You take good care of that little letter-writer."
Oliver sat still in the pew, his heart racing and his mind whirling. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Had he been touched by an angel? He gingerly slipped the envelope back into his pocket and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to steady his nerves and make sense of the inexplicable encounter. The air in the chapel felt charged, and for a moment, he wondered if he was still dreaming. But as the sensation gradually faded, he realized this was all too real.
Oliver headed for the lobby, still reeling from his conversation with Jordan. He found a calmer Norman, still setting up the lobby. Oliver assured him he would find Shane and ensure she was in full costume for the pageant. He finally spotted her in the lobby, looking very celestial. He questioned her missing necklace. "Did you lose your necklace again?"
"No, I know exactly where it is, and I've got about five minutes to get a sheep…what's that?" Shane pointed to the letter in Oliver's hand.
"This is the letter I tried to deliver today." Oliver lamented that he'd been unable to deliver the letter, which this morning seemed his most crucial task of the day.
Shane furrowed her eyebrows. "But you always do."
"Not this time. What's most important right now is that somewhere out there tonight, there is a fatherless child waiting for an answer to this, who's thinking maybe God doesn't care. Or that God may not exist at all." Oliver looked at the envelope again." What happens to the spirit of a child who's been hurt like that?
Oliver listened with rapt attention as Shane's voice wavered and her eyes filled. "Well, I'll tell you. She cries for about six months. And after about a year, she stops looking out the window every time a car pulls up."
Something told him Ms. McInerney was speaking from personal experience, and he glanced down at the letter in his hand.
"Then her heart kind of freezes and, if she's not careful, she turns into kind of a scrooge and rejects God and Christmas and…" Shane's voice trailed off.
Oliver's heart thudded heavily as he began making the connection. Shane confirmed his suspicions when she told him where she grew up.
He had found the little letter-writer, but Oliver soon realized that returning her letter to her was more painful for Shane than he could have imagined. As her voice faltered, she read through the letter that had been lost for so long. Oliver wished there was a less painful way to share it with her. When she stormed away, he prayed for God to give him the right words to break through the bah-humbug exterior she'd built around herself.
She rejected his words at first. Years of building a wall around her heart wouldn't be dissolved in minutes. But he persevered and returned to the words she wrote herself many years ago. She wanted a happy family. His charge was to get her to see that she already had one, including him. He used his troubles to show her that, through it all, there was one thing in this world that he trusted and that he was sure would never let go of him. He continued even as tears fell down her cheeks. "And Shane, that's what perfect love is. Perfect love casts out all that pain, all that fear, and replaces it with hope. And hope, my dear Shane, is what you were asking for in that letter.
He still felt the heat of her hands on his cheeks and the softness of her lips. He was sure she must have felt his heart pounding when she placed her hand on his chest.
###
Exiting Denver Mercy, Oliver tugged at his collar to ward off the chill of the crisp night air. He'd left the DLO without gloves in his rush to get to Ms. McInerney. No taxis were in sight, so he began walking the two miles back to the USPS. It would have been easy to go inside and call a cab to take him home, but he couldn't face an empty house, not after such a momentous day. He needed to return to the place that brought him comfort, the DLO and walking always helped him gain clarity. And today, he needed clarity.
The pageant was successful and made more joyful by the successful delivery of the Casey's baby boy and his mother's recovery.
He crossed his arms, tucking his hands into the fabric to ward off the cold. Snowflakes swirled about like little dancers on a big stage. Dancing. Just last night, he'd danced with Shane at the Postal ball. She was so beautiful tonight in her role as an angel. Her captivating performance in the pageant gave him hope that he'd begun to break through the 'bah-humbug' persona she'd built for herself.
The walk gave him time to contemplate all that had transpired in the last 24 hours and try to put all the pieces into context. Oliver chuckled at his initial jealousy of Jordan. His primary purpose was to ensure Oliver delivered Shane's letter to her. But he also made him aware that his feelings toward Ms. McInerney were teetering on the brink of more than they should be. More than they could be at this moment in time.
But now, Oliver felt responsible for following through on what he'd said to Shane about the hope of Christmas. Jordan helped Oliver realize that Ms. McInerney's arrival in the DLO was more than a merry mix-up. It was part of God's grand plan. God had placed Shane in his path so he could guide her back to him slowly and gently.
Oliver lifted his arm as a taxi approached, but it drove past him. He continued walking, coming upon the little church with the steeple he'd passed many times during his drives around the city. But tonight, he stopped. Floodlights illuminated a beautiful nativity display set up on its front lawn. His eyes were glued to the angel lifted high over the rest of the scene. Its long, lustrous blonde hair reminded him of Shane in her pageant costume. The one that made her look celestial. As he looked at the angel, something stirred in him. He tried to hold back tears, but his eyes betrayed him. Deep down, he knew he felt more for Shane than what was appropriate, but he couldn't help it. But after tonight, he knew that his role in bringing her back to her faith was more important than his feelings. He was determined to help her see the light, to make her understand that God does exist, that He does care, and that He will never leave her. And for now, that was enough.
A taxi appeared out of nowhere on the abandoned street. It slowed as it approached Oliver, and the driver rolled down his window. "Need a ride?"
Oliver was only about halfway to the DLO, so he jumped in, thankful for the warmth of the vehicle. He gave the driver the address and sat back, closing his eyes. The day was catching up to him, and weariness had set in. The driver asked him what he was doing out so late on Christmas Eve. Oliver quickly explained the pageant at the hospital.
"I was there this afternoon. An angel wanted to borrow my sheepskin, but I couldn't wait."
Oliver listened, wondering if the angel he spoke of was his angel.
"She must have really wanted that sheepskin because she offered me a trade." The driver held up the gold disc necklace with the purple crystal bead. "I'm guessing this is much more valuable than the sheepskin."
Oliver blinked rapidly. "Oh, my goodness." He couldn't believe it. "That necklace belongs to my colleague." Oliver thought quickly. "Can I buy that from you?'
The driver cocked his head. "Sure, why not? I read the inscription on the back. It looks like it might have a lot of sentimental value."
The cab pulled up to the USPS. Oliver grabbed enough cash to cover the ride, the necklace, and a little more. "Thank you so much. Merry Christmas."
Oliver walked through the bits and bobbles of the Dear Santa program that remained on the USPS floor.
The comforting sound of the DLO doors welcomed him home, as did dozens, maybe hundreds of candles. Oliver stood, his eyes bright and his energy restored. When he turned, he discovered one more reminder of Jordan. It was the tree holding onto the rock at the beach. Or was the rock holding on to it?
Warmth spread through Oliver, and he smiled. He set about decorating the tree with whatever he could find. Rita's tiara and Norman's cummerbund were the first decorations. Oliver went to the unclaimed fabrics and materials bin and found bits of string and garland to add to the branches. He reached into his pocket before removing his jacket. He pulled out the delicate gold chain and hung it on a branch at eye level where he hoped Ms. McInerney would see it when she returned next week.
As Oliver stepped back to admire his handiwork, he heard the scrape of footsteps on the wooden floor. His breath caught when he saw them. "Did you miss the plane?"
Shane spoke softly. Her smile weakened his knees. "We missed you."
As the music played, the four moved gracefully around the floor. Shane and Norman, Oliver and Rita danced until Oliver and Shane arranged for them to switch partners. Oliver found himself dancing, once again, with Shane. However, this time, he did it with a new perspective he'd gained following his conversation with Jordan.
They moved effortlessly to the music, their steps in sync.
"I have to say, I never expected to be spending Christmas Eve like this." Oliver smiled.
Shane flashed her brilliant smile. "Well, it's a Christmas miracle."
"Ha, ha. I know you're just saying that. You don't believe in them yet, do you?"
"No, not yet."
Oliver spun Shane around until she faced the tree. She faltered, and they stopped. He watched as her eyes grew big. She cocked her head, her eyes never leaving the tree. "Is that?" She walked to the tree. Her fingers gingerly touched the disc, flipping it around to read the inscription.
Shane turned to face him. "How did you?"
Oliver stretched out his hand to Shane. He couldn't help but feel a sense of purpose. The little letter-writer had been sent to the DLO months before, not as a merry mix-up but as part of God's plan for Oliver to lead her back to Him. Despite the challenges and obstacles he knew they might face, Oliver would persevere, understanding the role he was to play in Shane's journey back to her faith.
"I took a taxi home." A teary-eyed Shane took his hand, and they continued dancing. The DLO, sometimes a drafty old place, was filled with the warmth of home and family tonight.
