Four-Letter Word

         Who was I to believe in love at first sight? I had been married for almost seven years to my high school sweetheart, who had married me because I turned up pregnant during my senior year. Of course, I couldn't divorce him after the miscarriage. What kind of person would I have been if I gave up because of one accident?

         I was surprised Mark hadn't left me after we found out we couldn't have children at all. There was something wrong with one of my overies. But I guess for some reason my husband still wanted me. Don't get me wrong, I love him. I'm just not in love.

         I had always felt like one of those women who had sold out just so that they could say they were married. Maybe, I was one.

         All of that was beside the point. The point was that I was married, and therefore had no reason to believe in love at first sight. Yet, here I was, following a man that I didn't know into an antiques store.

         I had been walking home from the diner I work at when I spotted the man on the street. He was tall, dark, and handsome, naturally. He could have been from out of town, here visiting, but somehow I knew that wasn't the case, especially when I saw him talking to Mrs. Overly by the cashier when I walked into her family-owned antiques store.

         I was trying to remain unseen. I snuck behind shelves and counters so that I could catch a better glimpse of the man. He had his back to me, so that all I could see was his broad shoulders, clad in a flannel shirt, and his slim hips, covered in denim jeans.

         Because I was so busy admiring the man, I wasn't paying any attention to Mrs. Overly, who happened to glimpse over the man's shoulder, and was now calling, "Elizabeth! Elizabeth Townsend! You come over here!"

         The man turned around to see who Mrs. Overly was yelling to, and I saw his eyes for the first time. I wasn't close enough to see the color of them, but I could see how dark they were.

         I walked hesitantly over to where they stood, feeling my face burn where the man's eyes were focused on it. He kept his gaze to me until I stood in front of him and lifted my eyes to meet his. I almost gasped when I was finally looking into them. They were a deep emerald color and the intesity of them was heart-stopping. Now that I was looking into his face, I could see that he didn't seem to be much older than me, maybe in his early thirties. He had a slight five o'clock shadow and short brown hair. But I couldn't tear my eyes from him.

         "Why, Elizabeth Townsend, isn't today your twenty-fifth birthday?" Mrs. Overly was asking, but neither I nor the man in front of me were paying any attention to her. "Happy birthday!" she said louder.

         I turned my head to her quickly. "Thank you, Mrs. Overly." Then, turned it back to the man in front of me.

         "Happy birthday," he echoed, and my breath caught.

         "Thank you," I whispered.

         "Oh, where are my manners?" Mrs. Overly stepped closer to us. "Honey, this is Elizabeth Townsend," she said to the man. "She's my next-door neighbor, moved here from California." She turned to me. "Elizabeth, this is Mr. Cooper Dillon. He's gonna take care of the shop while the husband and I go out of town for a few months."

         A smile broke out on Cooper's face. "It's a pleaure to meet you, Ms. Townsend."

         "It's Mrs, actually," I answered in a quiet voice, and his face seemed to dim a little.

         "Alright, then, and why would you want to move from shiney California to a little town in Missouri?" he asked, making conversation.

         I shrugged. "I like Missouri. And how did you get rangled into coming to Missouri to run an antiques shop?"

         He mirrored my shrug. "The Overlys are old friends of the family, I guess."
         "Now, Elizabeth," Mrs. Overly began. "I want you to promise that while I'm away, you'll take good care of Cooper, and that you'll show him around, give him a warm welcome to our little town."

         Cooper grinned down at me, and I couldn't help but smile back. "I promise, Mrs. Overly."


         "What's up with all the stuff you're buying, Lizzie?" Mark asked me a month later. "I feel like I'm living in a retirement home."

         I set my new porcelain angel, a gift from Cooper, on the table next to our mosaic lamp. I went to the antiques shop once a week as an excuse to see Cooper, and often had to buy something so that it wasn't obvious to everyone else that he was my only reason for going.

         Sometimes, like three days ago, Cooper would give me things as gifts and I would put them up in the house. Unfortunately, Mark was right. With all the antiques I was buying, our house looked like an old-folks home.

         "I'm sorry," I said, picking up my house keys and putting on my coat. "But I like it."

         "Where are you going?" he asked. He sat on our white couch and flipped through a book of mysteries that I bought him two years earlier. He still had on his shoes and coat, which he neglected to remove when he came home from work.

         "Out," I answered, vaguely. "Christmas is in a week and I haven't done much shopping. I'll be home later." I opened the door and walked out into the snow. There weren't many department stores in our small town, but there were plenty of family-owned businesses that would have been perfect for Christmas shopping. But I wasn't thinking about Christmas shopping. I was thinking that it had been three days since I'd seen Cooper and I needed to look into his green eyes again before I went crazy.

         When I opened the door to the antiques store, Cooper's face lit up, and I let out a sigh of relief. "Liz!" He called from behind the counter. "Hey, what's going on?"

         I walked into the shop, taking off my coat as I went. The shop was always a little warm, and the fact that I was in Cooper's presence always made me overheat a little.

         "Hey, Cooper," I said with a smile and I leaned against the counter. "I think it's about time for Christmas shopping, don't you?"

         His eyebrows lifted. "Here?"

         I nodded. "My mother would love one of those porcelain angels." I turned around, glancing around the shop. "Where were they again?" I asked Cooper.

         He walked around the counter and stood beside me. "I'll show you."

         I followed him to a small corner of the shop, where there were ceramics and things made of glass. Then, on either side of us there were shelves of angels. Some were short and others were tall. Some looked like toddlers, while others had wise faces. Some held out gems in their hands, while others were fused to instruments.

         The one that Cooper had given to me a few days before was a young, blonde angel holding an amethyst gem. She looked up at you under her eyelashes as if she was holding out a peace offering to you, to make up for something she's done.

         Looking around, I didn't see any like the one I had, and I was glad that I was the only that had one like it.

         I hadn't been lying to Cooper. I really did think that my mother would love one of these angels, and as I looked around for one that would suit her, I realized that Cooper was still standing behind me.

         I met his eyes and saw that he was watching me with a gentle expression. My breath was starting to slip and I looked down at the gold band on my left ring finger as a reminder that the man in front of me was one that I couldn't have. He was not the one that I was bound to. I had no tollerance for adultery, having witnessed in my parent's marriage what it can do to a relationship, to a family.

         When I looked back into Cooper's face, I saw that he was walking closer to me, invading my personal space. But I didn't mind, though I should have.

         I could feel myself shaking like a leaf as he put his hands on my arms. They were like fire on my cold skin and it caused me to shudder.

         "Liz," he whispered, but I was looking down at the floor. "Liz," he said again, louder this time. "Look at me."

         I couldn't simply ignore his plea, so I looked up into his eyes.

         He was leaning down toward me, his mouth getting closer to mine. Oh, how I wanted to give in. I wanted to pull him closer, forget that I had a husband waiting for me at home, and spend the rest of my life the man who had his arms wrapped around me.

         But I couldn't.

         It took all my strength to push Cooper back far enough to look into his eyes. "Cooper, we can't do this. I'm married."

         He nodded, and his expression looked pained. "I know that. It's just that..." He trailed off before dropping his arms to his sides and stepping back so that his shoulders were against the shelf on the other side of the isle. "Liz, I'm in love with you. I can't help it. I know you're married, and I know that cheating is not on your agenda, but..."

         I could feel the tears stinging my eyes and knew that I had to get out of there.

         I shook my head and put my hand out to stop Cooper. "I'm sorry," I sobbed. "I can't do this." I bolted out the door, forgetting the porcelain angels and leaving my jacket behind. When I ran out into the snow, I had to fight to keep myself from dropping to my knees and crying myself to sleep in the cold.

         I eventually made it through my front door, leaving a path of ice and melted snow in my wake.

         When Mark finally looked up from the TV, he gasped at the sight of me. "Lizzie?" He rushed to my side and put his arms around me. "You're freezing! Where's your coat? What happened?"

         I didn't answer any of his questions. I let him take me upstairs and put me in a hot shower. I let him feed me soup and hot chocolate, then let him ask me questions. Had I been mugged? Had I been raped? Had someone hurt me?

         I lied in bed, the covers pulled around me and told him that I hadn't been mugged or raped. But I didn't tell him I hadn't been hurt, because I had. And I didn't tell him what happened.


         A week later, I woke up late and decided that I would need to go to work. I forced myself to get out of bed and walk into the bathroom where I looked at my reflection in the cabinet mirror.

         I looked terrible.

         It had been a week since the incident, a week since I turned down the love of my life, and a week since I'd seen the emerald eyes that I couldn't live without. The time that I didn't spend at work, I spent in bed, crying.

         When I looked in the mirror, I saw that my long, brown hair was a mess, my brown eyes were red and puffy, and my face was rather pale. I didn't get a cold from walking home in the snow without a jacket, but I wished that I had. Maybe then I wouldn't have felt so pathetic.

         I tried my best to strighten up for work, but I must not have done a good job, because when I walked in, I was asked once again by my manager if I was sick. I told her for the tenth time that week that I was not.

         At the end of the day, almost eight o'clock, the diner was starting to empty and my manager suggested that I go home early and get some rest.

         Yeah, right. Like I needed to sit in bed any longer.

         "Sarah," I pleaded. "Really, I'm fine."

         "No, you're not," my manager insisted. "Just go home, get some sleep, and I'll expect you bright and early on Monday morning."

         I sighed and gave up, zipping up my jacket as I left the store. It was Christmas Eve and I was one of the few people who had volunteered to work the register at the diner. Mark and I never planned anything for Christmas Eve. That was our time to spend together. Christmas Day would be a different story.

         I walked through the front door, ready to tell Mark that I didn't feel like doing anything that night and that I was just going to take a shower and go to bed.

         I froze in the hallway in front of the door where I had begun to peel off my jacket. Was that a woman's voice I had just heard? I didn't finish taking off my jacket, but instead walked up the stairs that lead to our bedroom and stood outside the door.

         "Shhhh," I heard someone whisper.

         "What are you shushing me for? She doesn't get off work for another hour." I heard Mark's voice loud and clear through the door.

         "Yeah, but if you whisper it makes everything seem more forbidden," the woman's voice responded before she began to giggle like a little girl.

         I opened the door, not caring what was on the other side, and not surprised when I found Mark lying in our bed, a woman, who I knew, from many trips to Mark's office, to be his secretary, on top of him.

         I didn't say anything. I only blinked at them as they shuffled around, trying to cover themselves up as if I hadn't already seen everything.

         I waited for them to settle down before saying clearly, "I want a divorce."

         After slamming the door as loud as I could, I raced down the stairs and out into the cold, glad that I had a jacket this time.

         Only this time I didn't stumble through the snow, uncertain where to go. I ran as fast as I could down the street that was lined with Christmas lights, stopping in front of the antiques store. Through the display window, I could see that the door leading to the apartment staircase was ajar, the light inside being the only light on in the whole shop.

         I looked up at the second story, where I knew there was an apartment above the shop, and saw that light flooded through the windows.

         I leaned forward and banged on the door.

         After a few minutes, when no one answered, I banged again. This time, I saw Cooper descend the staircase and freeze when he saw who stood on the other side of the glass door. He walked quickly to the door, unlocked it, and jerked it open.

         "Liz," he breathed. "What are you doing here?"

         A grin spread across my face, and I realized that I was gulping in air. "He cheated on me."

         Cooper's unshaven face was grim. "Who? Mark? I'm sorry."

         My grin faded. "I'm sorry? Why are you sorry?"

         Cooper looked puzzled. "Didn't you just say that Mark cheated on you?"

         My smile returned. "Yes!"

         He blinked at me, confusion clear on his face.

         "I'm leaving him," I explained. "I'll divorce him as soon as I can!"

         Did he not understand what this meant? I looked into the emerald eyes that I almost died without and watched as realization began to break through. A smile began to form on his face as well, and I couldn't hold it in any longer.

         "Cooper, I love you!" I shouted as loud as I could, throwing my head back and yelling up to the heavens.

         Before I could bring my head back down to meet his gaze, his arms went around me and pulled me to him in a fierce grip. He brought his mouth over mine and I wanted to scream in happiness.

         Sure, I had no right to believe in love at first sight, but that didn't mean I was incapable of experiencing it.

         As we stumbled toward the staircase, I tripped over something and looked down to see what it was I had bumped into. It was a duffle bag. My eyes scanned the floor around us and I saw a few more bags.

         "What were you doing?" I asked, looking back up at Cooper.

         "Leaving," he answered, his head dropping down to kiss my throat.

         "Why?"

         His head came up and he gave me an incredulous look. "I couldn't stand to live in this town if I couldn't have you."

         I grinned and pulled him back to my lips.


         Hours later, as we lay in bed, sweaty and exhausted, Cooper turned his head to look at the clock on his bedside table.

         He looked back at me and grinned. "Merry Christmas," he said, and I felt his voice vibrate through his chest where my head rested.Then his expression turned serious and he said, "Marry me."

         I sighed. "Cooper, I love you, but I'm not even divorced yet."

         He smiled and kissed my forehead. "I know, but you'll say yes soon."

         He was right. I would.

         A little more than a week later, I finally went back home. I hadn't bothered to go by there before because Cooper had taken me shopping for new clothes and toiletries so that I wouldn't have to. But now that the divorce papers came through, I decided to drop them off myself.

         Cooper insisted on coming, but I asked him to wait on the porch while I went inside. We both knew it would only take a few minutes. I had nothing to say to Mark. I gave up the man I was in love with because I wanted to be loyal to him, and he didn't even bother to try.

         I decided that it would be best if I knocked on the door. I didn't want to walk into something like I had the other night. I tried to withhold the anger I felt when she opened the door. I wasn't jealous. I was simply upset that this woman, the one who broken up my marriage, was opening my front door, instead of me.

         The shock was obvious on her face as she stood in front of the door dressed in a wool sweater and jeans, her blonde hair falling around her shoulders.

         She didn't say anything as I walked in, and she closed the door. It wasn't until I was halfway to the living room that she finally spoke. "Mark is in the dining room."

         "I don't have anything to say to you or Mark," I said, dropping the divorce papers on the coffee table with a loud thump. "I just came by to leave these."

         When I stood up and turned around, Mark was standing by the staircase. He didn't have a sorry look on his face. He looked emotionless. "Hey, Lizzie," he said.

         "Don't call me that," I snapped. I looked around the living room, but didn't find what I was looking for. What had he done with it?

         "Do you want your stuff?" Mark asked.

         I straitened to my full height. "I bought new stuff," I told him. "I just want my angel. What did you do with it?" I noticed after not finding my angel where I had left it, that Mark had also taken down the various items that I'd brought home from the shop.

         "It's in a box upstairs."

         "Go get it, please," I said, patiently.

         He stared at me for a second, then headed up the stairs.

         I didn't look around the house. I didn't want anything in it, anything that would remind me of Mark. All I wanted was the porcelain angel that Cooper gave me.

         "I'm really sorry, Elizabeth," she said.

         I found it funny that she knew my name, but I could never remember her's. "I really don't want to hear it," I said in an exhausted tone. I so badly wanted out of this place. "I just want to go home."

         "Where is that?" she asked in her small voice.

         I smiled to myself, thinking about the man who was waiting for me on the front porch. We planned to live in the apartment above the shop until the Overlys returned, then we would move back to St. Louis, where Cooper owned an apartment.

         I didn't say any of this to her. I looked her in the eye and very politely said, "It's none of your business."

         She looked taken aback as Mark came trudging down the stairs. He handed me the angel, and I quickly took it and walked to the front door.

         "Are you sure you don't want to take anything else?"

         I paused in front of the door and looked down at the angel in my hands. I smiled at the innocent look it gave me, and then lifted my head to look at Mark and his new lover. They made quite a cute couple.

         I smiled at them. "I'm sure," I told Mark. "I have everything I need."

         I walked out the door and sighed with relief at seeing Cooper's emerald eyes. I walked off the porch with my angel in one hand, and Cooper's hand in the other.