Candy - Sally Spratt (best mystery novels of all time .TXT) 📗

Her name Candy, did not suit her, she should’ve had a more formal sounding name such as: Elizabeth Margaret or Kathryn. Her dull black hair was pulled back into a tight pony tail, which only accentuated her pinched features. She had carefully applied her makeup, outlining her eyes, filling in her lips with a pale pink lipstick and adding a slight color to cheeks, just enough to look natural, but not overdone. It was a shame that she kept her sleek frame and long legs hidden under loose fitting designer clothes, expensive but bland and drab colors. Mostly she chose blacks, grays and browns, colors that did not make her stand out – colors that served her purpose. She sat in the passenger seat staring out the windshield as her husband drove. She absent mindedly picked lint off of her slacks, smoothed out the fabric and then folded her arms across her chest. Frank, her husband, glanced over at her with a scowl. Candy ignored him, as she did so well, straightened her spine and pushed out her chen.

The three children sat in the backseat, each wishing they were anyplace else but where they were. Niles the oldest, earphones plugged in and head slumped down ignored everyone. Bethany and Brittany sat side by side texting their friends. Brittany finally broke the silence with a loud sigh and in a shrill voice said, “I can’t believe that you are making us go visit grandpa in the hospital. I hate hospitals and old people – they smell. It’s not like he’s going to know we are even there.” Her siblings quickly added in their complaints and requested they be dropped off at the school where the dance was about to start. Clenching his jaw, Frank gripped the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. “You kids need to stop your complaining, we’re all going, just like your mother wants us to do, we have no choice.” After a few moments of contemplation Frank added, “You know that you called me out of an important meeting, my team is continuing without me. Brittany is right your dad won’t even know we are there.” He tried one last time to convince her that it would be better to drop her off and she could get a cab ride home. Candy inhaled, tried to calm herself, she didn’t want to respond to Frank, she knew if she did she would say something hateful. She knew this was probably going to be the last time she was going to see her father.


She couldn’t blame them for their reactions and lack of feeling toward her father. She had taught them first hand their selfishness. In her efforts to create a perfect family and a perfect life she had alienated everyone close to her. She built up her façade brick by brick starting as a young girl; her perfection is what hid her fears, her self-doubt. She had tried so many times to connect with her father, to make him proud and to make him love her. No matter what she did it was never good enough. She left home as soon as she graduated from high-school and never looked back. It wasn’t until he had slipped into a coma almost six months ago that she had finally found time for him in her life.
Over the past few months she had visited him several times a week. Sitting next to him, she would take his icy hand in hers. At first her talk was trivial, about how the kids were doing in school, a new account she had just gotten at work. She brought pictures of her family and placed them around room. She read to him westerns, books she had remembered he had loved to read. Finally, she began to open up to him, telling him how her fears had come true when she had tried so hard to prevent it from happening. Her children and husband had become distant from her. All of them selfish and demanded their own needs be met, but nobody gave back. She began to realize that she had turned her back on him long ago, just as her children were doing to her, and it hurt. She realized that her father had tried in his own way to show he loved her, but he just didn’t know how.

According to her friends and co-workers she had the perfect life. Both she and Frank had successful careers; the children were involved in sports and excelled in academics. No one ever went without always getting whatever they wanted or desired. During the holidays her home looked like a photo spread in one of those architectural magazines, and everyone had present after present to open. Each child had a cell phone, an allowance, their own room, a computer and closets full of clothing. The older kids had their own cars. She had hired a gardener and a housekeeper to keep her home in order. Her custom built home was located on the edge of an exclusive golf course. Frank was able to walk right out the back door to the 9th hole. The family preferred to spend their time away from the house either at work or with their friends.


Frank pounded on the horn. “Come on! Get out of the way you old fool!” Candy looked out to see an old man, hunched over a wheelchair. He appeared to be pushing an old woman, maybe his wife or his elderly sister, into the hospital. Frank honked again. The old man stopped and looked at Frank, shook his head and then moved on in his slow and methodical pace.

The elevator ride up to the fifth floor was silent. The girls stood flat against the wall, giving each other sidelong glances. And when a good looking intern got on the elevator they nudged and elbowed each other. Frank stood staring at the numbers as they lit up. The group stood outside of the hospital room, behind Candy, no one wanted to cross the threshold. Candy’s father had a grey cast to his skin; he looked tiny and weak lying in the hospital bed - tubes and monitors everywhere. Candy motioned for them to enter and they straggled in standing at the end of the bed. Bethany held her nose, Brianna rolled her eyes, and Niles still didn’t lift his head. Frank shuffled from foot to foot and kept glancing at his watch. She was getting exactly what she deserved, but this wasn’t about her, this was about her father. Candy took her familiar seat next to him, she took his hand in hers. In a small quiet voice she told her family to leave. This small and almost inaudible announcement produced a sigh of relief from each of them. As Frank shut the door behind himself she told her father how sorry she was that she was unable to make him happy. She realized now that she had gone about it all wrong, her life was a lie, she had tried to create a world of her own that didn’t exist. She had wanted to feel safe, secure and needed. But in trying to create her world she had driven everyone apart and away from her. She promised him that she would change, hopefully it wasn’t too late. Candy wasn’t sure but she thought she felt her father squeeze her hand, maybe she saw his eye lids flutter.

She found her children scattered around in the waiting room, each slouched in their own colorful plastic chair. Frank on his phone, “I’ll be there in 30 minutes, don’t touch anything” he said and slammed his phone shut. “Can we get out of here now? I have to get back to the office.” He glared at Candy until she answered. ”Yes, I am done here,” she sighed and then began the walk back to their car. Not caring if anyone was following, not listening to the complaints and questions. She hoped that she had not made an empty promise to her father.

Frank pulled into the driveway, barely stopping to let everyone out. The kids scrambled out, each scattering off in different directions. The tires squealed as Frank peeled out of the driveway and headed back to his office. If anyone had cared they would have noticed Candy slowly walking up the staircase to her room, they would have heard her on the other side of the door as she sat sobbing, and maybe they would have gone in and held her as she cried. Instead, she sat alone on the edge of her perfectly made bed, crying and praying a silent prayer that she would be shown the way to change and to keep her promise to her father, not only for herself, but for the sake of her children and husband.

The ringing of the phone woke her up at 2:00 am; she knew what the news was before she even answered. It was the doctor, calling to inform her that he was terribly sorry, he’d done all he could do, but her father has passed on. She thanked him, and gently hung up the phone. She lay her head back on her pillow, reached out and felt the cold bed where Frank should be. She turned on her bedside lamp and noticed that Frank’s side of the bed had not been slept in. She wanted to call him at work, but she knew he wouldn’t care; he would probably be more upset with her interruption. She slipped on her robe and stepped into her slippers and made her way quietly down to the kitchen. Opening all of the cabinets she pulled out the contents and began to reorganize her already neat kitchen. When she finished with her cabinets she moved on to the pantry and then the refrigerator, working long after the sun rose.


The next few weeks after the funeral were a blur for Candy. She hadn’t known that her father had so many friends and people who truly cared about him. In a daze, she carried on in her normal routine; her family barely spoke to her, barely acknowledged her. Her performance at work became increasingly poor, her co-workers sensed that she was preoccupied and the work she was producing was not her up to her normal standards. Her boss suggested that she take some time off, which she did. At home she continued on in her monotony, not knowing what to do, life was unfolding before her and she didn’t know what to do.

It wasn’t until several months after her father died that an opportunity for change finally presented itself. The doorbell rang, she was expecting a delivery or the dog walker instead, there was a small Vietnamese woman standing on her porch, behind her two skinny and awkward looking Vietnamese girls leaned on each other. The woman held out her hand for Candy to shake, “Good morning,