Author's Note: Thank you for your patience! September truly was the craziest month, but for the very best reasons…a wedding, many birthdays, time spent with my soul sisters, and an amazing concert by For King and Country at one of the most amazing concert venues in the world, Red Rocks. Needless to say, it didn't leave a lot of time for writing. October promises to slow down a bit, so that should keep my progress on this story a bit more consistent.

I know I left you wondering about Shane's surprise for Oliver. It will come in the next chapter, so you won't be left hanging. Also, to head off any questions, I refer to Shane's birth order in this chapter. I know most think she's the younger sister between her and Alex. In a previous story, I had Shane as the oldest. I've continued that here. Martha never specified it, so I have taken a bit of artistic license to make Shane the elder child.

Thank you to Martha Williamson, Eric Mabius, and Kristin Booth for creating and bringing these characters to life. I know I say it often (yet not often enough), but their work is brilliant. Without them, SSD would not be what it is: a gift to all of us who know and love the series.

Chapter 8

They were on the road again, heading to Glendalough. Based on the letters and papers Joe had given them, they made a reasonable assumption that Glendalough was the village where Oliver's ancestors lived centuries ago. Oliver shook with anticipation to the point that Shane had to gently bring him back to the present several times during breakfast. They had eaten in Sika Restaurant at Powerscourt instead of indulging in breakfast in bed, which had become their ritual since arriving in Ireland. Oliver was eager to get an early start this morning, but with the memory of the previous few mornings and knowing how easily he could fall under Shane's spell, he knew breakfast in their room would likely lead to an extended diversion. On any other day, he would have gladly welcomed being mesmerized by her magic, but today was their last day in County Wicklow, and he wanted to take full advantage of the time they had available.

XXXXX

"Oliver, stop rushing me. Why are you so anxious? We have plenty of time." They were getting everything from their room that they would need for the day.

Oliver huffed a heavy sigh. "I know, but, for me, going to Glendalough feels somewhat like the pinnacle of our trip. I'll actually get to see where the O'Toole's lived."

Shane's mouth dropped. "Excuse me, I thought we were also here to explore the McInerney ancestry as well."

Oliver smiled tenderly at his wife. "I'm sorry, of course, but that's not until tomorrow. Maybe I should have said, it feels like the pinnacle, so far, for this portion of the trip."

Shane's eyes shot up. "This is the pinnacle?"

Oliver noted the tinge of disappointment on his wife's face. Pulling Shane into his arms, he let out a low chuckle. "Ahem. Let me rephrase that. It is the pinnacle of our sight-seeing thus far on our trip." He tightened his embrace and felt her body melt into his as their lips met in a kiss that lingered and swept aside all thoughts of the day. "You, my love, have been the pinnacle of this trip."

"That's more like it, Mr. O'Toole."

XXXXX

They drove the now familiar roads, still as captivated by the scenery of the Irish countryside as they were the first day.

"Oliver, I have an idea."

"Oh, happy day," Oliver snickered as he said it.

"Watch it, Mr. O'Toole, or I might have to slug you," Shane teased.

"Duly noted, Mrs. O'Toole." He bantered.

He saw the radiant smile that overtook her face as he referred to her by her married moniker. He didn't use it often, and certainly not at work. In the DLO, she was still Ms. McInerney. It had been the topic of a somewhat heated discussion early on in their marriage, but he argued that one hyphenated name was enough for their small task force, and Rita had already claimed it.

Shane shifted in her seat to move as close as possible to Oliver in the bucket seats of their rental car. "Have I told you, Oliver, how much I love it when you call me Mrs. O'Toole?" She reached out and slowly traced the curve of his jawline with a delicate touch.

He shivered under her light, teasing touch that he'd come to know even better over the days and nights of their holiday. "Be careful, Mrs. O'Toole. You are heading down a path that we cannot take advantage of at this moment."

Shane pulled her hand away. "Fine, Oliver. But we're going to have to do something to take my mind off what I'm thinking."

Her flirtatious wink as she licked her lips was almost his undoing. "I'm serious, Shane." He glanced to his left and took note of her continued impish smile. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He knew that look on her face. It was her 'how much can I tease and torment my husband' look. He focused his eyes on the road and the vista before them.

"Fine, Oliver." She gave him a half-hearted pout. "Back to my idea. Let's play a game."

Oliver winced. "No, I don't like your games."

"Really? Hmmm, I seem to recall some games you've enjoyed."

His cheeks flushed with heat as he reacted to the implied meaning in her words. "You know what I mean, Shane."

Her spontaneous giggle playfully danced through the air. "Remember the game we played when we were locked in the bank vault? I say a word, and you respond with the first thing that comes to your mind."

"Ugh," Oliver groaned as he shot her a side look before returning his focus to the road in front of him. He took a deep inhale and exhaled forcefully. "You're not going to give me a choice, are you?"

"No, I'm not." She stated matter of factly.

"Fine. The sooner you start, the sooner we'll be finished."

Shane smiled gleefully and began. "Orange"

"Juice"

"Car"

"Jaguar"

"Not burater?"

Oliver chuckled. "No, not this time." The image of Shane, her chin resting on her hands, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, as he wrote his letter to Holly popped into his head. He had delighted in making her laugh even in the midst of their anxiety at being locked in the vault with no idea when they would be rescued.

"Book"

"Renita Hayweather, Frontier Duchess."

The sound of their mutual laughter filled the car. "Did you ever read Rita's book, Oliver?"

"I must admit. I did not. What about you?"

"It took a while, but I got through it."

Oliver's eyebrows shot up. "And?"

"The Duchess fell in love with the handsome pony express rider, Mr. D'Lorman, and they lived happily ever after."

"That story sounds vaguely familiar," he snickered.

"Church."

Oliver shook his head. "Aren't we done with this game?"

"No. Church."

"Peace."

"Winter."

"Fireplace."

"Mmmm, that sounds nice. I'm looking forward to quiet evenings in our new home in front of a roaring fire. " She said eagerly.

"Basketball."

"Caitlin Clark."

Shane's eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head to the side as she studied Oliver. "Who?"

"Caitlin Clark. Apparently, she is a basketball phenom from the state of Iowa who was drafted number one by the Indiana Fever."

Shane laughed aloud. "Oliver, since when have you ever paid attention to sports? Let alone women's basketball?"

Oliver feigned offense. "I'll have you know, I have a vast array of interests."

Shane nodded. "I agree, Oliver. It's just that, in all our years together, I have never known you to mention women's basketball as one of your interests."

Oliver laughed. "I must confess, I was at the Mailbox Grille one afternoon, and someone left the remains of their newspaper, which happened to be the sports section. There was nothing else to read."

Shane gave Oliver a soft punch on the shoulder. "Ah, that makes a lot more sense, my darling." She continued their game.

"Color."

"Blue."

"Family."

"You." He answered quickly and without hesitation.

Shane was silent. From his periphery, Oliver could see her fingers brush across her cheeks. His hand instinctively reached for where his handkerchief would be in the breast pocket of his jacket before he realized he wasn't wearing one.

"I am sorry, Shane. I do not have access to my handkerchief at the moment."

"It's okay. It's just my pregnancy hormones. I love the thought of us as a family, but sometimes I can't believe it's actually happening."

"Shane, we already are a family. But now God is blessing us with a wee one to join us."

She swiped at her eyes one more time and giggled. "Oliver, when did you start using Irish slang?"

"When in Ireland, so they say."

"I think the phrase is 'When in Rome.'" She corrected.

Oliver's eyes darted to the ceiling and rolled as she corrected his version of the phrase. "If I tell you you're right, can we be finished with this game?"

She laid her hand on his knee and gave a quick squeeze. "All right, Oliver. Thank you for indulging me. You sufficiently took my mind off...well, other things."

"Here we are." His lips softened into a smile. "I'm glad I was able to help."

Oliver pulled the car into the large parking lot, which was already filled with other tourists. The building that housed the Visitor's Center had surprisingly modern lines, but the stone that covered the exterior helped it blend into the surroundings.

Inside, they strolled from one exhibit to the next, hand in hand, their fingers woven together. Given the heightened energy that had sparked between them during their drive, Oliver's need for connection to his wife could only be satisfied, for the time being, by holding Shane's hand. He deepened their connection, gently massaging her soft skin with his thumb. She returned the gesture with a squeeze and a smile. They came to the end of the displays and stopped in the lobby. Shane was looking over his shoulder, her nose twitching. The aroma of fried fish and chips permeated from the cafe to where they were standing.

"Are you hungry, Shane?"

"I could eat something. I mean, it's probably a good idea before we go outside and start walking.

Oliver glanced at his watch and noted it was eleven thirty. "That's a good idea."

Forty-five minutes later, their stomachs were filled, having shared a large serving of crispy fish and chips. They walked the easy trail toward the lower lake, the satisfying crunch of gravel making a rhythmic sound that broke the silence. The air was crisp and refreshing—the kind that left a tingle on your skin. Oliver and Shane walked together, their hands clasped together between them, each with the other hand in the pockets of their jackets.

They reached the lower lake, a stunning glacial basin nestled in the idyllic valley. They stood for several minutes soaking in the atmosphere. The water was so clear the surrounding landscape was reflected on its glassy surface. Oliver was pleased to find that, in spite of how many cars were at the Visitor Center, it was remarkably undisturbed by other tourists.

Oliver felt a profound connection to Glendalough, unlike anything he'd experienced during their trip. "I don't know how to explain it, Shane, but I feel a tie to this area more than I have other locations we've visited in Ireland."

"That makes sense, Oliver. Despite not being biologically an O'Toole, you were brought up as one, and your family history is tied to the O'Toole's. It speaks to how your dad raised you. I know it was difficult to understand why he never told you or the rest of your family that you weren't his son by blood, but in the long run, your O'Toole family played an important role in shaping you into the man you are today."

Oliver heaved a sigh as he realized the truth in Shane's words. Would he have had the same relationship with his grandparents if he'd been a Schmidtz in the midst of the O'Toole clan? Would he have grown up constantly feeling like an outsider?

"I will never know how the revelation of my true lineage might have affected my relationship with my grandparents. Our bond was very close. Something tells me they would have treated me the same. That is the kind of people they were."

Shane shifted her gaze toward Oliver and gently slid her hands up his chest. Her fingers played with the collar of his shirt, which peeked out from the softness of the thick sweater he chose to wear to counteract the chill in the air. "And that's the kind of father you will be, Oliver, " she murmured.

A stiff breeze swept past them, and Shane shivered. Oliver brought her into his warm embrace, his eyes soft and fixed intently on hers. Hers were eyes that could sparkle with laughter one moment and fill with tears the next. They could render him speechless or coax him to reveal his deepest thoughts. His gaze continued over her delicate features before kissing the tip of her nose, which was tinged red by the biting air. "I hope so, Shane." The peace he felt whenever Shane was in his arms settled over him like a warm blanket as he contemplated their future. His arms tightened around her as their lips melted into a heated kiss that left them breathless and created a bubble of warmth around them that defied the chill in the air. He felt Shane's fingers snake through his hair as she drew even closer.

Finally stepping back, she licked her lips. "Wow, Mr. O'Toole, if you kiss me like that again, I may suggest that we forego the ruins and return to Powerscourt for our last evening before leaving for County Clare."

Oliver's lips curled into a smirk. His wife's brazen suggestions no longer failed to surprise him, and he would be lying if he didn't acknowledge that her suggestion was tempting. But there would be plenty of time for what she was proposing.

He contemplated responding but knew she could debate any argument he might throw at her and do it without batting an eye. "Ahem, we should keep moving, get our blood flowing again."

Her chuckle was warm and infectious and revealed her awareness of the effect she had on her husband. "I think you just did, Oliver." She tucked her arm through the crook of his elbow as they made their way to the trailhead that led to the upper lake.

One look at the difficulty of the trail leading to the upper lake and Oliver turned them in a different direction. "As much as I am sure the upper lake has a beautiful view, this looks a more challenging walk than I think we should attempt."

"Agreed, Oliver."

"What? Shane McInerney O'Toole agrees with me. It is a red-letter day. We should mark it on the calendar."

Shane's laughter pulled him into a moment of unbridled happiness, a hallmark of their bond. "You, Mr. O'Toole, have been working on your sense of humor."

They stood at the base of the Round Tower, the oldest structure that had been used as a bell tower and also as a hiding place for monks during the Viking raids. It wasn't open to the general public for climbing, but they stood at the base, their necks craned toward the top that loomed over thirty meters above them.

Oliver studied the small entrance into the tower. "I'm trying to imagine what it was like to climb in through that small opening and climb the stairs in an effort to protect yourself from the Vikings."

Shane clutched Oliver's arm a bit tighter. "It makes me very thankful that we live in the twenty-first century."

They moved on to Priest's house and then St. Kevin's church, the only building in the Monastic City with its roof still intact. They hadn't signed on for the tour, so they were limited from viewing the inside. They walked the exterior, noting the miniature round tower that resembled the larger one they'd just seen.

The cemetery next to St. Kevin's church was very serene despite its disheveled appearance. Headstones featuring Celtic spirals, knots, and crosses were placed without any type of order. Dates and names were inscribed in Latin and Old Irish. Regardless of their size or shape, each stone possessed a natural patina, with moss and lichen covering their surfaces.

"Oliver, let's walk through the cemetery."

"Isn't that a bit morbid?"

"Not at all. I love reading the names and the years and imagining what life was like for the person buried there."

They strolled, reading names and dates. "Oh my gosh. Oliver, look!" Shane stopped at one of the larger stones. They could barely make out the first letter in the surname as an O. The rest was more difficult to decipher, but it looked like 'oole.' Oliver reached out hesitantly to brush away some of the moss that covered the name. His fingers hovered within inches, ready to touch, when he suddenly pulled them back.

Shane trained her eyes on Oliver. "What's the matter, Oliver?"

"I shouldn't touch it. It's too sacred." He stepped back quickly. Shane's touch seared through his sweater, leaving the imprint of her hand on his shoulder. "I don't know what I was thinking. There is so much history in these stones. I don't want to be responsible for doing any damage to them."

"Do you think it says O'Toole?" Shane asked.

"It could be, given our supposition that Glendalough was the home to some of the O'Toole clan." They continued strolling from one plot to the next. Several old headstones, set in heaving ground, leaned precariously against one another, their weathered surfaces etched with barely legible names and dates, leaving whoever had been buried there to remain unknown. He sensed a void next to him and turned to see Shane stopped in front of another headstone. He watched as her hand swept across her cheek. He returned to her side, his arm wrapping around her waist.

"Are you okay, my love?" He whispered in her ear as he read the inscription on the headstone. The only name that was still legible was Séaghan.

She nodded silently and answered him, her voice thick and throaty. "That was my father's name."

Oliver wrapped his arm around Shane's shoulders. "I'm sorry? Your father's name was Séaghan?"

"Yes. I was named after my dad. Séaghan is the old way of spelling Sean. Sean, Shane."

"Why did I never know this?" Oliver asked.

"Because I've never told you." She leaned into Oliver, resting her head on his shoulder.

It was true. Other than what Shane had told him that first week they'd met and her father's camping equipment that she'd loaned him, very little had ever been said about her father. He knew she regretted never asking him about his side of her parents' divorce. Had she not felt that pang of regret, she may not have been so insistent about arranging for him to meet with Joe as soon as he returned to Colorado. Oliver felt a mix of guilt and sorrow that he'd never taken time to delve deeper into Shane's relationship with her father.

"Let's go." Oliver's hand enveloped Shane's and brought it to his lips. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears and emotion.

"No, Oliver, you have more you wanted to see. I'm fine, really."

The corner of Oliver's mouth lifted into a gentle, caring smile. "Shane, the rest of what we wanted to see is on the way back to the car. So, no argument. We're going back to Powerscourt, where I am going to hold you, and you can tell me whatever you want to about your father."

XXXXX

The dinner dishes had been piled on the room service cart and wheeled into the hallway. They had showered away the remains of the day and now sat nestled on the couch, Oliver cradling Shane in his arms. Oliver tenderly ran his hand over Shane's expanding belly, still in awe that their son, no bigger than a grapefruit, was growing inside of her, just under his touch.

Shane had been quiet throughout dinner. He tried to spark conversation by discussing the conversation he'd had with his father the day before. "Dad said everything is going smoothly with demolition."

Shane visibly shuddered. "Is he sure they only took out what we wanted them to remove? Did he say how much of a mess was left behind?"

Oliver knew Shane wasn't really worried about what the contractors were doing back home. It was her way of distracting herself from thoughts of her father. Watching her pick at and only take a couple of bites of the chocolate cake he'd ordered to lift her spirits told him everything he needed to know about what she was thinking.

Rolling onto her side, Shane lay her head in Oliver's lap. He moved his hand to the softness of her hair, slowly combing his fingers through the waves. He felt her relax into him and, for a moment, thought she'd fallen asleep when he heard her choked words. "I can't help but wonder if I will ever be able to shake off the regret of not being able to see my dad before he passed away."

Oliver stroked her cheek and felt the dampness of her tears. He wanted to reassure her, as he had from the very beginning, that her father had forgiven her, but he knew from his own experience that what we build up in our minds is often not the same as reality. "Shane, my love, your father loved you, he forgave you, and I'm sure he would want you to forgive yourself."

"I know, Oliver. I tell myself that all the time, and when I think I believe it, the doubt creeps back in." Shane covered Oliver's hand and placed a soft kiss on his palm.

"Tell me about him."

He felt Shane's deep inhale before she began and the tightening of her grip on his hand. "I was always daddy's little girl, maybe because I was his first. We didn't have a lot of money, but Daddy always figured out how to take me on exciting adventures. We hiked and camped. Just the two of us. It wasn't my mom's idea of fun, so she stayed home with Alex." Shane's hand clung to Oliver's. "We went to church, too."

Oliver smiled at the vision of a young Shane, blonde curls bouncing, in her Sunday finery as she walked into church.

"He would walk me to Sunday School and pick me up after the service. He asked me what I learned, and I would recite whatever story we had been taught that day."

Oliver listened quietly as she reminisced about her childhood. Her revelation about attending church didn't come as a total surprise. He always suspected she'd come from a background of faith. She just needed someone to bring her back to it. He'd felt that calling when they first met, and it only deepened over time, as had his love for her.

"How does a man who loves his family so much, a man who believed in God, a man who took his family to church every Sunday, just walk away and leave them?"

Oliver's heart broke for his beautiful wife as her words came out in an anguished cry. "I don't know, my love. But you must assume that if he could, he would do things much differently. Why else would he have reached out to you?" Oliver encouraged Shane to sit up next to him. She did so and sat with her head against his chest, her legs dangling over his. "Sadly, there are answers to questions we will never know in this life. But be assured that you will see him in heaven someday, and you will have the opportunity to fully reconcile with him."

They sat in silence as he silently prayed for Shane to give herself grace.

"Thank you, Oliver, for listening to me."

"Of course, my love."

"You have a wonderful way of making everything better."

He cradled her face in the palm of his hand, her skin soft as he caressed her cheek. "I want to always make things better for you, Shane." Their conversation was halted by a powerful urge to kiss her. She tasted faintly of chocolate as his lips lingered. Adrenaline surged through him, and his pulse skittered as the heady sensation of her lips on his overtook him. He pulled back to see her eyelids flutter like the wings of a butterfly as she blinked back tears. He closed his eyes as she wrapped her hands around his shoulders and brought his lips back to hers. Overcome by desire, Oliver rose and swept Shane, the love of his life, into his arms. Her laughter bubbled up, the joyful sound filling the air as he carried her to the bedroom.