RACHEL opened the door to her little antique shop in her small but thriving hometown. She stepped in, turning the sign on the door to ‘open’ and inhaled that sweet feeling of satisfaction slowly.
It has been four years since she succeeded in opening this business, and today, that accomplishment still gives her a thrill. Since she was a young woman, she had a deep fascination with antique and vintage collectables and their historical significance. The special pieces were filled of memories, each with its own astounding story, and as such the idea of the shop was born.

Now, an older woman, she still had that excited feeling and the love for beautiful and special things like when she was young, as though, within, she hadn’t aged at all. It was like if she was that twenty-six-year-old travelling to different countries, being part of medieval fairs, visiting museums and old palaces.
“Memorable, those days were,” she said to herself, as she attended to her customers, “in more than one way.”

For it was during her travels that she met her husband, a businessman, handsome and charming. He loved her simple personality and adventurous spirit, and after a year of dating he had proposed to her on an island in Greece. For her, that was quite romantic; after sixteen years, she still remembered that special moment with a little smile.
She had cherished it in her heart, never mind the one who had given her that moment was not with her anymore. She sighed and took a deep breath to keep memories of the past in the deep shadows of her mind. The shop became busy due to several groups of tourists in town and it was until mid-afternoon when she took a break for a light lunch.

She went to her favourite corner café and took a table outdoors, for she had always enjoyed the fragrant atmosphere and the scenes of life as people passed by on the interconnecting streets.
Sometimes, though, it would trigger a light pain when she saw young and old couples holding hands, laughing and kissing.
At 42, that was what was missing from her life since her divorce, six years ago. She sipped her cool fruit cocktail and smiled wryly, remembering the revelation of her husband’s secret affairs with younger women that caused the breakup. It had hurt her so deeply she could no longer stay with him but she had managed to move on with her two children in one piece. She went back to teaching for a couple of years as she rebuilt her life.

“And,” she inhaled again with satisfaction, “here I am, being my own woman, owning my own home and with the children under my care.”
Her divorce had been amicable, so an agreement was signed for her ex-husband to have the children on weekends. That gave her a chance to relax for at least a day and have dinner or lunch with her small group of friends.
They were wonderful ladies, beautiful in their own ways, trying to get Rachel to live life a little more.

“You do know, life begins at forty,” was the candid reminder, “and you’re only forty-two.”
Rachel smiled and stated with a little edge of seriousness in her voice, “Not sure if I’ll ever be ready for another relationship.”
“Well, you never know. Someone special may unexpectedly walk into your life and you could fall in love.”

“I don’t think—” she started to say, but her friends interrupted her, raising their glasses and cheering for that to happen.
That weekend, after their visit with their father, the children gave her a small box of antiques he had sent for her. It was something he had been doing during their marriage on his business trips and after the divorce, he continued to do so.
Rachel really didn’t want anything from him, but because the children thought it was a nice thing he was doing, she accepted the gifts. She had expressed no bitterness or animosity towards him and kept their relationship mutual, though she had felt betrayed and hurt in her heart.

So, she filled her days with warmth, doing the things she loved, thus finding her own little joys.
“I cannot cry forever for what I have lost, for life moves on.”
That was the positivity she embraced and in her shop one day, weeks later, she wondered, “Could someone special walk into my life, one day?”
It seemed fate had that answer, for he did walk into her life, but it didn’t actually happen that way.

She was on her way to the café on her mid-afternoon break, and not far from there, a pitbull dog being walked by a middle-aged man got irritated by something and pulled loose. It seemed to Rachel like the big dog was heading directly to her, and she turned abruptly and, without thinking, hid behind a strange guy who had been walking by, putting her arms around his waist and burying her head in his shoulders, closing her eyes.
He stopped and, after a long moment, said, “It’s okay, the dog has been restrained.”

She opened her eyes, letting go of the person and apologised, quite embarrassed, “I’m so sorry, it happened so suddenly.”
“It’s okay,” he said with a reassuring smile.
That smile and the fact that he was young with a rugged, handsome look took her breath away a little. Just that one brief moment as she looked at him, an exhilarating feeling filled her being.
“Well,” she laughed a little nervously, “thanks for standing there.”

“You still seem to be shaking a little,” he observed, “Would you like to sit somewhere a little?”
“Ahh, I was actually going to the café,” she said.
“Great, let me walk you there.”

“Thank you.”
He sat with her for a little while and said, “You know, that’s my first experience of a beautiful woman grabbing me from behind as I’m walking down the road.”
She laughed at how funny he made it sound.
“I guess there’s a first for everything.”

“It sure is.”
His smile somehow gave her a sense of comfort that made conversation easy and he asked, “Do you live here?”
“Yes, it’s my hometown.”
“Seems like quite a nice place.”

“So, you’re a tourist?”
“Nope, just passing through.”
He left a short while after, and watching him go, she took a deep breath, surprised at that moment of attraction.
“What just happened?” she questioned quietly, “Would I see him again?”

To be continued…