what had gone wrong between us. That didn’t matter, though. What mattered was the loving pressure of her hand on mine as I’d faded in and out at the hospital, the homemade peanut-butter fudge she’d snuck into my room for me, the gentle kiss of her lips on mine when she thought I was numbed entirely by the medications. She agreed, hesitatingly, to come over. When she arrived, Clo suddenly remembered she’d promised to take Mama over to Eula Mae’s for a visit. We watched her bustle out. Candace sat down on the side of the couch, brushing her heavy brown hair over her shoulder. We made small talk about my broken leg, my messy coffee table, the merits of Gary Cooper as an actor as he mutely eliminated half the Kaiser’s army on the screen. If Gary could perform heroic deeds, maybe I could, too. Deep breath. “Candace?” “Yes?” Her hand was buried in the bowl of popcorn, but her eyes came back to me. They looked like bits of blue heaven. I took her other hand in mine, interlocking my fingers with hers. “I love you.” Kisses are better than painkillers for easing what ails you.
