Candace Meredith earned her Bachelor of Science degree in English Creative Writing from Frostburg State University in the spring of 2008. Her works of poetry, photography and fiction have appeared in literary journals Bittersweet, Backbone Mountain Review, Anthology 17, Greensilk Journal, Saltfront and The Broadkill Review.  She currently works as a Freelance Editor for an online publishing company and has earned her Master of Science degree in Integrated Marketing and Communications (IMC) from West Virginia University.

Here is an excerpt from Candace’s Book Losing You.

Chapter Five – Not My Daughter

“What’s complicated?” Kristi asks as Will enters the kitchen. “And where are the plates?”

“Cabinet to the right,” he nods.

Kristi removes two porcelain plates from the cupboard and scoops eggs onto the plate. “I hope cheese is enough,” she says.

“That’ll be more than fine,” he sighs, “I’m sorry about breakfast.”

“It’s not a problem,” she says, “but I still want to know what is complicated.”

“Flint,” he says, shoveling shards of glass into the garbage can, “Flint’s father is a deputy at the local police station.”

“It doesn’t mean he gets away with destruction of property,” she says.

“Well, he is,” says William.

“My father might know someone,” Kristi offers.

“My father was acquainted with the police chief. That’s why it’s complicated,” he explains and tosses the broom back into the closet and turns to the front door, “and now I have to replace another damn window.”

Kristi faces the window as she stuffs single bills into the drawer.

“Covering for Kim today?”

“Oh, hello June,” she says, looking up from her task. “I’ll have your earnings on Friday if that’s okay.”

June, dressed in a floral sundress and hat, smiles happily, “I see someone bought my landscape.”

“Sure did,” Kristi responds, “That meadow was gorgeous.”

“Painted that meadow in Ireland,” she explains as she tosses her hand bag on the counter. “My father’s Irish and my mother was from Wales.”

“I didn’t know you’re European,” Kristi closes her drawer.

“Well, I guess I’m not,” she says, “I was born in Pennsylvania then we transferred to the Appalachia when my father began business for the railroad,” she explains as the bell above the door chimes as it opens.

“Where have you been?” Kristi sighs as Rick storms through the door.

“I was with a friend,” she says.

“I guess I should get going,” June picks up her purse and touches Kristi’s shoulder, “let me know about lunch sometime.”

“I’ll text you soon, June,” Kristi walks June to the door. Ignoring Rick, they hug briefly, June’s cherry red hair swirling in the breeze.

“You do that dear,” she waves, walking away.

Not wasting time, Rick, who stands six feet tall, thin as a rail, wearing a blue button down polo and blue jeans, steps aside, runs his hand through his hair.

“What friend?” he stammers, “Where the hell have you been Kristi?” Beads of sweat form on his receding hairline. Kristi sidesteps Rick, returning to her counter, and brushes her hair from her face.

“I was with a friend,” she says, grabbing some cleaning supplies

“Who?” He demands.

“A guy,” she responds, spraying chemicals on some paper towels.

“A guy?” He stutters, “Do you like this guy?”

“I think I do like him,” she says.

“What does that say about us then, Kristi,” he says, one hand on his hip, the other flying through the air.

“It means that I still need a break.”

“What?” He narrows his eyes.

“Look, we had this conversation. I thought this conversation was over?” she says buffing the counter.

“Maybe for you, but not for me,” he sighs. “What exactly do you want?”

“I want space and separation…” she says, scrubbing at a cloudy spot.

“After two years together?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you don’t love me or what?”

“Yes, I do …”

“Then, what is it?” he slams his palms on the counter.

“Love just isn’t enough,” she shrugs.

Continued in book . . .

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