Candy Cain by C L Scholey

Author:C L Scholey
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781611607833
Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press LLC
Published: 2014-12-02T05:00:00+00:00

The shadows of night move in when death closes its door,

Locking you out from the past that is nevermore,

Of what once was yours, of what could have been,

Stolen in a heartbeat, a tragedy unforeseen.

Can you hear me? Do you remember who you were?

Can you give me a sign? Or is my face but a blur?

I wish I knew if you were safe where you went,

For now I wait, until I myself, become Heaven sent…

How sad, she thought as she read through the lost lonely lines of grief. Were the people in the picture Cain’s family? Had Cain lost his wife and children to some unforeseen tragedy? Perhaps that was why he seemed so distant and sometimes cruel. Perhaps that was why the toys had been sequestered away, unrepaired. It would explain why his emotions seemed so torn from one moment to the next.

Candy had cut herself off from people for a long time after her family had fallen apart, so she understood such loss. This time of year was brutal to those who missed their loved ones.

“If you’re done invading my privacy, you can come and get something to eat,” a deep voice drawled from the doorway.

Startled, Candy spun around and dropped the poem. It fluttered soundlessly to the hard floor. Cain strolled over to retrieve it.

“It’s so beautiful, but so sad,” Candy remarked.

“Well, unlike your sunshine and lollipop world, others have crosses they bear.”

“I’ve lost loved ones,” Candy replied quietly. She felt a certain sort of kindred spirit.

“Really, let me guess, mom and dad, and oh, how awful it was to inherit all their worldly goods when they ventured into the great beyond, seeing as though you’re an only child. Right?”

“Why must you be so cruel? You don’t know anything about me,” Candy snapped angrily, though her eyes filled with pained tears at his callous words.

“I know you like hot chocolate; I know you like to make love,” he replied. His tone had unexpectedly changed from condescending to caring. “I know you love life, and care enough to do whatever it takes to save another.”

Candy shook her head in confusion when he cupped her chin. His lips descended toward hers slowly. Delicately they grazed the very tips, offering her the smallest teasing of his mouth. Tenderly his lips butterflied their way across her eyelids, her cheeks.

When he broke contact, his eyes were dreamy, as though he had been caught in a different magical place for a moment. She wondered if he were thinking of the woman in the picture. The picture he kept near and dear.

“I’m hungry,” Candy said abruptly.

She pushed past him to the kitchen feeling somewhat flustered and confused by his rapid change in attitude. On the small wooden table, surrounded and cluttered by six wooden chairs, she found her breakfast.

“Oatmeal. How enchanting,” she muttered.

“Sorry it’s not crepes and caviar, princess. It’s the maid’s day off.”

So, Mr. Condescending had returned. Why did she always seem to rub him the wrong way? Candy loved oatmeal; her foster mother had made it for her on cold days.

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