I Want Candy

by Susan Donovan

  “Ha!” Jacinta headed into the kitchen. “Would you like a cup of tea or something?”

  “Sure.” Candy wondered for a moment if she’d been dropped into some kind of alternate universe. Her mother seemed chummy tonight, truly glad to see her. And watching Jacinta smack Wainright Miller upside the head made the experience that much more surreal—fun, but still surreal.

  Her mother toddled in with two mugs of Lipton. “What’s new in your world, Candace?”

  Candy accepted her tea with a frown. “Somehow, I have a feeling you already know.”

  As Jacinta settled into the chair, she shook her head and chuckled. “Shoo!” she said, shaking her head some more. “Lordy, Lordy,” she added.

  “Feel like elaborating?”

  Jacinta thought that was the funniest thing she’d ever heard, apparently, because she broke into a series of snorts and chortles punctuated by a few more “Shoos!” and “Lordy, Lordies.” When she’d sufficiently calmed herself, she set down her mug and shot Candy a serious look.

  “Candace,” she said. “Your father was the biggest racist son of a bitch this side of the Mason-Dixon line.”

  That wasn’t the conversation starter Candy had expected. “Oookay.”

  “And thank God above he’s not here to see you shackin’ up with our handsome sheriff.”

  Candy’s mouth fell open for an instant, but she pulled herself together quickly. “I am not shacking up, Jacinta. I’m staying with him temporarily, and as soon as—”

  She waved her arm around until Candy stopped talking. “Darling girl, do not try to bullshit me. Do you think I’m not sitting here tonight looking at a completely different woman than I saw two nights ago? The lines are gone from your face. Your eyes are sparkling. Frankly, whatever Turner Halliday is doing to you and for you I say, bravo! You look absolutely radiant.”

  Pod people, Candy thought. Her mother had been taken away by the pod people, and this creature sitting in the chair across from her was an alien substitute, an imposter rockin’ one of Jacinta’s caftans. Her mother had never mentioned sex or referred to Candy as “darling girl,” and she’d certainly never spoken ill of her late husband, at least not to Candy.

  “Now, I realize we’ve never discussed Turner, but this is not exactly unexpected news.”

  Candy cocked her head to the side. “It isn’t?”

  Jacinta chuckled to herself. “Oh, my. How do I even begin?”

  “Begin what?”

  Jacinta took a sip of tea, then rested her palms on her knees. Candy thought the posture made her mother look like a Buddha with a beehive. “Now, you have to understand, Candace. We all saw how Turner looked at you when ya’ll were in school. He was one lovesick puppy! And, of course, Rosemary and I discussed it sometimes, and we did what we could to keep a lid on the situation.”

  Candy’s mouth fell open. “You and Turner’s mother discussed us? You tried to keep us apart? What situation are you talking about, exactly?”

  “Oh, you make it sound like some kind of evil plot.” Jacinta shook her head. “We were just two mamas trying to protect their chicks, is all. Now, I’ve known Rosemary all my life—as lovely a woman as there is in this county—and she was beside herself with worry for Turner. She didn’t want him hurt and, well, she knew your father. She knew what a disaster that would have been for Turner.”

  Candy’s lips parted but she was too stunned to speak.

  “Frankly, Rosemary and I were relieved when the two of you went your own ways after school. We thought it was for the best.”

  Sadness and anger welled up in Candy’s chest. It wasn’t enough that her father had crushed her when she’d been a kid. Now she discovered her mother had manipulated her emotional life, as well. “I don’t believe what I’m hearing.”

  “Candace, that was then, honey. You and Turner are grown-ups now and your father is no longer walking this earth making life miserable for everyone.” She sighed deeply. “What I’m telling you is that I’m happy for the two of you. So is Rosemary. We think it’s … oh, I don’t know what the word is … fate, maybe? What I’m saying is that it’s nice that the two of you found each other after all this time.”

  Candy jutted her head forward in disbelief. This was too much to handle all at once, out of nowhere. Candy felt like she’d been hijacked. “Is this why you called me over here? To give me your blessing to do the nasty with Turner?”

  “Oh, heavens no.” Jacinta reached over and picked up the documents from the coffee table, then thought better of her answer. “Well, on second thought, everything’s connected, I suppose, but no. I didn’t necessarily call you over here to talk about Turner Halliday. I wanted to show you these.”

  Jacinta held out the papers and waited until Candy accepted them with a groan. “What’s all this?” She scanned the top document and knew immediately that she was looking at a deed. But to what? And why was her name on it? “I don’t understand,” Candy said, flipping through the pages. She glanced up at Jacinta and frowned.

  “Look at the second set of papers.”

  Candy pulled at the document tucked in a robin’s-egg-blue folder. “Daddy’s will?” Candy skimmed through it as quickly as she could until she got to a page marked with a sticky yellow arrow, where she saw her name in bold print. It took only seconds to read and then reread the pertinent sentences. With shaking hands, Candy placed both the deed and the will on the coffee table.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this when he died?”

  Jacinta shrugged. “Why would I have? You read what it says. You inherit that building only if you’re a resident of Cataloochee County, and until a few weeks ago, you were a resident of Florida and intended to remain so. And if you didn’t return within twenty years of his death, the building would have been given to the city.”

  “But—” Candy’s mind was reeling. It was complete insanity! “I can never sell it? What the hell is that all about? He can’t do that! Why would he give me something of value and then tell me what I could and couldn’t do with it?”

  Jacinta laughed. “You do know what building we’re talking about, right?”

  “Of course! It’s the old dump where the insurance office was. I just walked by it the other day. But I didn’t know he actually owned the property.”

  Jacinta smiled sweetly. “Well, he did.”

  Candy tossed the papers to the coffee table and shook her head. The place was awful—dark and dingy and cut up into half a dozen small offices, all covered in cheap wood paneling and industrial-brown carpet. She could still smell the stale cigarette smoke and copier toner. “Why in the world would he leave me that building?”

  “Don’t you see?” Jacinta reached out for her hand. “Your daddy never did anything out of the kindness of his heart. There were always strings attached. Listen, I need to explain something to you, and I’m not telling you this because I expect you to praise me or nominate me for mother of the year or anything…” Jacinta stopped. Candy watched her mother fail to fight back tears.

  Another first.

  “Go on,” Candy reassured her, squeezing her hand. “Tell me.”

  Jacinta jumped up from her chair and walked to her living room window. She was still a tall and elegant woman, Candy saw, still beautiful in a kind of over-the-top way, with her heavily sprayed bouffant and dramatic makeup. She turned around just then, her face looking younger in sadness. “Candace, did you ever wonder why your father was never home?”

  She shrugged. “You told me it was because he was busy at work and had all those important civic duties.”

  “Yes, I did tell you that,” Jacinta said, a sad smile touching her lips. “And do you know how it came to be that Jonesy Carmichael was such a busy, important man?”

  Candy shook her head, almost afraid of what this new mother of hers was about to tell her.

  “Because I made damn sure he was,” Jacinta said, the bitterness detectable behind her smile. “I made sure he spent as little time around you as possi
ble. I got him nominated to serve on every board and committee and panel within hundreds of miles. I set up client meetings in the evenings. And do you know why? Because I didn’t want him poisoning you, Candace! Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  She blinked a few times and nodded, trying her best to follow along.

  “You see, I fixed it so that you spent hardly any time with your own father. I was protecting you. And that’s why I tried to keep you and Turner apart while your daddy was alive, because he would have killed that boy and locked you up and thrown away the key.”

  She felt stunned, like someone had slapped her. Suddenly, her mother didn’t fit into the tidy description Candy had always chosen for her—a cool and aloof woman focused on her husband and not her child. Candy felt a trembling begin in her belly, and it moved through her until her chest felt tight and her hands began to shake.

  “I’m sorry if this upsets you, but I knew I’d have to explain it should you ever decide to come back to Bigler. And, well, here you are.”

  She looked up at her mother and nodded faintly. “It’s a little overwhelming.”

  Jacinta offered her a tentative smile. “I suppose it is.” She walked over to the couch and sat down next to Candy, taking her hand in hers once more. “So. What are you going to do with the building?”

  Candy laughed. “I have no idea, Mother. What the hell would I want with a dingy, vacant, hundred-year-old warehouse in downtown Bigler that I can’t even sell?”

  Jacinta shook her head. “That’s for you to decide.”

  “But why?” Candy stared at her mother with wide eyes. “Why would he leave this to me? I still don’t get it.”

  Jacinta patted her hand. “I’ve thought long and hard about this, and I’ve come to believe that your father left you that ugly thing to get the last laugh.”

  “Like a sick joke.”

  “Right. Think about it, Candace. No one can say he didn’t provide for his only child, right? But you and I know your inheritance was practically worthless to you.”

  “What a guy,” Candy mumbled.

  Jacinta looked down at their joined hands. “I could have done much better for myself, obviously. But I don’t regret it, since that marriage brought me you.”

  Candy let go with a bitter laugh. “Why did you marry someone you knew was such a jerk?”

  Jacinta looked away and blinked. “Well, I suppose you have every right to ask that, and the only thing I can say in my defense is I didn’t know.” She turned her gaze to Candy again. “I knew he was a Bigler good ole boy, of course, but he didn’t seem any worse than anyone else around here.”

  Candy was listening.

  “I was young and stupid,” she continued. “I didn’t ask enough questions before we got married. I didn’t pay close enough attention to the men he kept company with and how they saw the world. And then one day, I woke up and realized I’d married a man with a twisted soul, a shriveled-up little heart. And…” Jacinta began to cry in earnest now. “I was pregnant with you, Candace. I … I tried to make the best of a bad situation, and in the process I lost you. I pushed you away in my effort to keep you safe, and you never found it in your heart to love me. I don’t blame you.”

  Candace felt that tight feeling in her chest begin to dissolve into a hot flood of sadness, and before she knew what was happening, she and Jacinta were hugging. She wasn’t sure who initiated it, and she supposed it didn’t matter, but they were now sitting on the sofa holding each other as they cried.

  “I’m so sorry for everything,” Jacinta said into Candy’s shoulder.

  “It’s okay, Mother.” Candy hugged her tighter, smiling to herself through her tears, knowing that it really was all right, because now she knew that her mother had done her best. Jacinta did what she thought she had to do to protect Candy and keep Turner off Jonesy’s radar screen. It was a damn shame that so many people had been forced to dance around that angry bully of a man, but he was gone now. He no longer factored into their lives.

  But Jacinta was still here. Turner was still here. And right at that moment, Candy realized she’d been given another chance with both of them.

  She would have so much to share with Turner when she got home.

  Candy stayed through the evening. Jacinta called her attorney and set up an appointment for Candy to meet with him about the building. Mother and daughter had dinner in the dining room, and Candy’s appearance attracted quite a crowd. The bocce ball crew was thrilled to see her. The bridge club asked if it were true she was staying with the sheriff. Lorraine Estes snubbed her nose at Candy on her way to the salad bar.

  Candy hugged and kissed her mother good-bye after dinner, and as she strolled through the lobby toward the exit she smiled in Mr. Miller’s direction. Even he couldn’t ruin this incredible evening, and the happiness in her heart.

  “Good night!” she said cheerfully.

  “Hmmph,” was his reply.

  Chapter 21

  Candy drove up the hill to Turner’s house in the woods and saw his SUV parked out front. She smiled so big her face hurt. She practically ran up to the front door.

  His lips were on her before she had both feet inside.

  Turner spun her around in his arms a few times, put her down, then began peeling off her Lenny’s T-shirt. Candy tugged up on the shirttail of his sheriff’s department uniform.

  “Let me get all this shit off first,” Turner said, removing the electronic gadgets and weapons that hung from his waist and placing them on the entryway table—gun and holster, radio, cell phone, stun gun, and billy club.

  “How do you even walk with all that crap?”

  “You get used to it,” he said, starting to unbutton the waist of her jeans.

  “I love the way you walk, by the way,” Candy said, unbuttoning the front of his shirt.

  “Really?”

  “Hell, yes. It’s a swagger. I get wet just watching you walk across a room.”

  “Good,” Turner said, unhooking her bra and licking and sucking on her nipples. “Because you make me hard when I see you walk.”

  “For real? I never really thought I had much of a walk.” Candy pulled the shirt off his shoulders and ripped his undershirt over his head, then licked his pectoral muscles. “I always thought I walk like a hillbilly white girl.”

  “Oh, you do,” Turner said, chuckling as he yanked open the snap of her jeans. “But you’ve got an ass that could cause a five-car pileup.”

  She tossed her head back to laugh and Turner attacked her throat with a series of voracious kisses and nibbles and sucks.

  “I know I probably smell like carrot cake. Sorry about that,” Candy said, tugging on Turner’s trousers even though she couldn’t lower her head to see what she was doing.

  “Fine by me. I love your carrot cake.” Turner shoved his hands down the back of her jeans and panties and grabbed at her ass cheeks. “But not as much as I love your pussy.” He pushed her jeans and underwear to the floor, and Candy stepped out of them as Turner stepped out of his.

  “I’ve been waiting all damn day for this,” Turner said, his mouth once more on her lips, her throat, her breasts. All the while Candy ran her hands over the hard muscles and soft skin of Turner’s body—wide, strong shoulders, cut biceps, rippling abs, the firm swells of his back and butt. She felt like a starving woman who could only be satisfied through the sense of touch, and she wanted more, more, more …

  Candy was lifted. She threw her legs around Turner’s hips and felt herself being carried to the back of the leather sofa, where she was lowered. Immediately, she became lost in the vortex of hot and wet kisses, the pressure of his hands on her flesh. It was almost too much joy when he entered her, pushing deep, spreading her open to her very being. She looked up into Turner’s face, transformed by pleasure, and she saw everything she had ever desired in a man.

  Kindness. Truth. Beauty. Goodness.

  His eyes flew open and his hazel gaze locked with hers as he thrust deeper into her,
body and soul. She felt his hands locked behind her back. She hung on to his neck. And even as he began to take her harder, with a desperate determination to have all of her, she knew she would not slip through his grasp. He had her. Turner would not let her fall.

  Suddenly, she knew with certainty that he would never let her fall. No matter what.

  “You are mine, Candy,” he whispered. “You’ve always been mine. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes,” she said, unable to say more. The physical pleasure was acute and building higher, but all the while she felt emotion rush through her, strong and insistent, and she couldn’t ignore it if she wanted to. So she let it flow. The tears welled in her eyes and she knew they were for everything and everyone … for her mistakes, for her mother’s choices, for her father’s malevolence. Candy cried for all the pain Turner had gone through without her being there to help him. She cried for Junie’s death.

  She didn’t understand any of it. None of it was part of any kind of grand plan that she could accept. God wasn’t that cruel. It just … was.

  Candy gasped. Turner was taking her to the edge. She was so close. And right as she felt she was about to reach orgasm, she saw it.

  All of it—the pain and the mistakes and the loss—it belonged to the past. It did not belong to this moment, this beautiful, perfect slice of time. In Turner’s eyes she was reminded what this moment was all about. It was so simple.

  “I think I’m in love with you,” she whispered.

  Oh, God, she hoped Turner had heard her because she didn’t think she could say it again—sharp, deep waves of pleasure had left her breathless. She was coming.

  Turner grabbed her by the back of her head and lifted her close to his face. “Candy,” he said, his eyes boring into hers. “I don’t think. I know. I love you, baby. I always have and I always will.”

  He slammed his mouth on hers and shoved his cock into her and she was gone. It felt as if she’d hit a wall of bliss, a million pieces of her soul flying out through the world and into Turner.

  The man who loved her.