"Really?" Shane questioned, intrigued.

Oliver nodded. "Something appears to have spilled on the envelope, obscuring the name and address. Norman might be able to pull some information but just by looking, I can't make out any of it. There is a postage stamp, though, so—"

"Intent to mail," Shane filled in.

"Yes, and apparently it never reached its intended recipient because it hasn't been opened." Oliver sighed. "I need a letter opener."

Shane got up and went to her purse, which was sitting on the desk she had previously stood upon searching for a cell signal. She reached in and pulled out a number of items, laying them out on the desk—her lipstick, a small bottle of hand sanitizer that she kept on hand mainly for Oliver, and a lighter that they had used for lighting candles when she and Oliver had recently celebrated Rita's birthday with their friends at the Mailbox Grille.

She dug a little more and with exaggerated fanfare and a bright smile, her bottom lip tucked behind her top teeth, she exposed Oliver's letter opener. It was the one that she had used in a pitiful attempt to defend herself when she had discovered a certain someone installing a swing on her front porch in the early hours of the morning a few years prior. Oliver grinned at his wife as she handed the letter opener to him.

Shane watched as Oliver carefully slit the envelope, pulled the letter from the envelope, and unfolded the paper.

"Dear Zella," Oliver began. "I have been trying to reach you. We need to talk. This whole thing has been a huge misunderstanding. You have to believe me."

Oliver paused, glancing at Shane with eyebrows raised. She widened her eyes and waited.

"It was never supposed to be this way. It's true that I was hiding something from you. I wasn't completely honest with you regarding my whereabouts because I wanted to surprise you.

"The young lady that you saw me with that afternoon is my real estate agent. We were closing a deal on some land just outside of Denver, where I had hoped you and I could build our forever home.

"That evening—when we were supposed to go to dinner at the top of the mountain—I was going to ask you to marry me. Now I regret being so secretive.

"I am so afraid that I have lost you. I never see you pass by my house anymore like you have done every morning for the past few years. I am respecting your request to stay away, but it is terribly hard. I want so badly to go to your house or find you at work so that I can explain all of this in person.

"Please forgive me. Give me—give us—another chance. We belong together. I love you so much and I want to spend forever with you. If I must wait, I will. I would wait a lifetime for you, but I don't wish to. I miss you more than you could imagine. Please, please come back to me soon.

"Yours truly, Vincent."

"Oh my goodness!" Shane exclaimed, clearly disheartened. "Poor Zella and poor Vince! She missed his marriage proposal because of a misunderstanding, and she never received his letter with the explanation. How sad!"

Oliver appeared dismayed as well, still pondering the words he had just read aloud as he folded the letter and placed it back in its envelope.

"Oh, Oliver—"

"I know. We have to help them." He was fully aware that this was now their case to solve. First of all, Shane wouldn't have it any other way, and he wasn't about to argue with her. But perhaps more importantly, he had believed that there was a purpose to their current circumstances, and it now seemed clear to him that this was the reason behind them being locked in the storage room for hours.

"Yes, we have to bring them back together." Shane spoke with tears at the corners of her eyes. "I cannot bear the thought of a couple in love not getting to experience marriage like we have. It's the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Oliver softly caressed his wife's face with his eyes, a small smile on his lips. He leaned in and with one hand on the side of her neck, he gave her a deep, passionate kiss that told her their marriage was the best thing he had ever experienced as well. When he drew back and gazed at her, they were both breathless.

"My dear Shane, I know that we have agreed to reserve passion for the privacy of our own home, but I am inclined to change my stance on that if you will abide. Of course, if you'd prefer that we—"

"Oliver," Shane spoke firmly, cutting him off.

"I know." He closed his eyes and sighed. "It's very foolish of me to think—"

"Oliver!" Shane spoke once again, this time a little more harshly.

"What is it?" he asked, a bit perplexed.

"I want my husband to stop worrying and just love me like there's no tomorrow," Shane requested, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes beginning to fill with moisture.

Oliver raised his brows and grinned slowly. "I shall oblige, Mrs. O'Toole."

He pulled her close to him and eased her down onto the pallet, his hand cradling her head. He cherished her with kisses that made her weak in the knees. First the kisses were on her lips. Then he left a trail down her neck and on her shoulder before exploring further.

A couple of hours later, Oliver awoke to the deep breathing of Shane, who was lying on his chest. He stroked her hair and whispered a prayer of thanks once again for the gorgeous blond in his arms. He was overwhelmed at the fact that she was his. These thoughts of gratitude reminded him of his lifetime commitment to her—his husbandly duties to care and provide for her and to protect her from danger. He knew she was worried and scared, although she had done her best to hide it the last few hours. His mind reeled as he desperately sought a solution for their predicament. As independent as she was, his wife depended on him, and he fully intended to be her hero—now and always.