Chapter 3

3

Candace's skin began to crawl. Too many eyes focused on her and too many people stood too close. Before long, someone would try to touch her arm or her hair. Or worse, attempt to hug her. She hated that. She really disliked when people—especially ones she didn't know—touched her without permission. Why hadn't she thought more about that when she'd filled out the paperwork?

Feeling her anxiety spike, she pinched the bit of skin between her right thumb and forefinger and counted to five. Concentrating on that made the rest of the world fade away, if only for a couple of seconds. But that was better than nothing.

"You've got this," she whispered to herself. Remembering some of the advice Bethanne had shared with her, she continued, "You are safe and in control of your body." Exhaling in a slow and steady way, she imagined she could feel her heartbeat return to normal.

And ... maybe it had. Feeling a little bit better, she lifted her chin. It seemed that Bethanne's counselor really did know what she was talking about.

The day was almost over. Just another two or three hours to go. All she had to do was stand still and pretend her feet didn't hurt and that sweat wasn't dripping down her back.

"Candace!"

Her mind registered her sweet cousin's approach just in time. When Bethanne hugged her close, Candace was able to wrap her arms around her. She was even able to inhale the faint scent of Ivory soap on Bethanne's skin.

"You must feel like the luckiest girl in the world," Bethanne said, smiling as they released each other. "Or at least the prettiest."

Only hours of practicing in front of the mirror enabled Candace to keep smiling. She knew her cousin's words came from her heart, and they really were very sweet. Everything about Bethanne was kind and sincere.

It was just too bad that, in this case, Bethanne was completely wrong. Candace didn't feel lucky or pretty. All she really felt was relief, and maybe a little bit sick to her stomach.

Because she'd won, now she would have to do a year's worth of appearances and participate in the Miss Kentucky pageant. All while watching everything she ate, exercising as much as possible, and telling her parents how grateful she was for the money they spent on her dresses, shoes, highlights for her hair, and acrylic nails.

And somehow hoping that the creepy stranger who'd started sending notes to her social media pages would stop. And by now he wasn't exactly a stranger anymore; she didn't know him, but now she recognized him on sight. Until he started appearing—online and in person—she'd never seen him in her life.

The problem was that she didn't know how to get rid of him.

"I'm feeling very blessed," she said instead of any of that. "Thank you for being here."

"I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else," Bethanne said. "You know, I didn't think I would find this beauty pageant stuff all that interesting, but I was wrong. I liked all the parts of it, and especially your speech about the importance of children's literacy. That's so very important."

Her cousin's expression and tone were so sincere that tears started to form in Candace's eyes. She blinked. "You really are the best, Bethy."

"Hardly that." Visibly pushing some of her usual apprehension away, Bethanne added, "Would you like to maybe get a Coke or something? My treat."

"You know what? I—"

"Candace, what's keeping you?" Her mother's sharp question startled her. "Oh. Hello, Bethanne."

"Hiya, Aunt Dora," Bethanne said softly. "It's gut to see ya."

After giving Bethanne a quick hug, Candace's mother scanned Bethanne's blue dress, bare ankles, and black tennis shoes before meeting her eyes. "It's lovely to see you too, dear, but I have to admit that I'm surprised you're here."

"I couldn't not be here." Smiling at Candace, Bethanne added, "I wanted to cheer my cousin on."

"That's sweet of you, honey. Even more importantly, I'm glad you're getting out more often. I'm proud of you."

"Me too."

"Before we know it, you'll be back to your old self."

Bethanne averted her eyes, leaving Candace feeling both embarrassed and frustrated. She loved her mother and knew she meant well, but sometimes she mentioned things that didn't need to be mentioned. "Sorry," she mouthed to Bethanne.

Her cousin's cheeks pinked, signifying that she'd read her lips. Loud and clear. In response, Bethanne shrugged, but then, like always, she kept most of her thoughts to herself and was perfectly proper. "How are you, Aunt Dora?" she asked. "I trust you and Uncle Wayne are well."

"We're fine. We're busy as ever. I'm sure your parents feel the same. I am so glad to see you. Tell your parents hello for me. Also, tell your mamm that I'll give her a call soon to make plans for your father's big birthday party."

"Mamm will be grateful for the help. Somehow the guest list keeps getting bigger and bigger," she joked.

Her mother chuckled. "They always do. Well, like I said, tell her that I'll reach out in a day or two. Not only can we plan, but we'll catch up on everything. I miss my sister."

A genuine smile appeared on Bethanne's face. "Jah, I'll do that. Mamm misses you too."

"Thank you, sweetie." She enfolded Bethanne in one more quick hug. "Now, I don't want to be rude, but I'm afraid your cousin has a great many things to do right now."

"Like what?" Candace asked.

"Candy, what's between your ears? Don't you remember that the newspaper is waiting to interview the new Miss Crittenden County?"

She had forgotten. She'd also secretly hoped the reporter had changed his mind about interviewing the new Miss Crittenden County. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'll speak to them now."

"Don't forget to talk about your platform."

"About children's literacy?"

"Yes, and how you want to offer support for victims of violence?"

That was also something she was passionate about. She just hadn't wanted to mention it in front of Bethanne. "I won't forget."

Bethanne had taken a couple of steps away. Not wanting her to ever feel unimportant, Candace closed the distance and reached for her hand. "Bethy, I'd love to see you another day. Maybe we can plan something?"

Bethanne's brown eyes warmed. "Sure. If you'd like that."

"I would—very much."

After squeezing her cousin's hand again, she walked to a long rectangular table set up at the back of the pavilion. Barry Winter, the local reporter who was almost as old as her grandparents, was smiling at her. She smiled back. Mr. Winter was at a lot of their high school's music and athletic events. Everyone knew him. "Hi, Mr. Winter."

"Hi, Candy. Congratulations. Ready to get to our interview?"

"Yes, sir. But I go by Candace."

"Oh. I'll put that in the paper, then. But I thought everyone calls you Candy."

"No, sir. Only my mother. And I only put up with it when I have to. She knows that I prefer Candace."

Mr. Winter raised his eyebrows but nodded. "Understood. Well, now. Let's sit down over here. I even wiped off that dusty chair so it wouldn't dirty your gown."

"That was kind of you," she said as she sat down across from him.

"I raised four daughters. I know all about how important it is for a gal to keep the back of her dress clean."

She giggled. "I bet you do know all about keeping teenaged girls happy."

"I'd reckon so."

Finally relaxing, Candace sat down. As they began their interview, she thanked him for his congratulations, spoke about how honored she was, and discussed her interest in children's literacy and the many hours she'd volunteered in both the elementary school and the library.

Mr. Winter scanned his notes. "It says here that you've also done some volunteer work for a women's shelter."

"Yes, but not with the victims. I've mainly done some things behind the scenes, like collected garments and such for them or helped address envelopes for a fundraiser."

"That's something to be proud about. I'm sure the judges were impressed with your service."

That made her uncomfortable. She hadn't done any of her volunteer work in order to impress people. "I don't know if they were or they weren't. But both causes are important to me. Everyone needs to learn to read, and I was glad to help out at the shelter. The women there have been through a lot."

"Do you know someone who's been a victim?"

"I think everyone probably does," she sidestepped.

Mr. Winter's easy demeanor turned serious. "Oh yes. Your Amish cousin was assaulted several years ago, if I remember right."

"She was. But that isn't the only reason this cause is important to me."

"No doubt. But I'm sure what happened was hard for you."

Not liking how the reporter was intertwining Bethanne's experience with her pageant win, she gave him a fierce look. "She was the one who was assaulted, not me."

"Oh. Of course."

She was tempted to ask him not to write anything about Bethanne in the article but figured mentioning such a thing would only put her cousin's experience even more on his radar. Not that he would consider the old story something of use for the paper. Besides, they hadn't mentioned any names. Even if he did include what had happened years ago, he couldn't say too much.

As the conversation continued, he switched directions, asking about her dress and where she planned to keep her crown for the next year. Candace answered each question with a bright smile and friendly tone. She figured she probably sounded a little bit ditsy, but that was to be expected, she reckoned. She'd learned early on that people might say they were interested in what she had to say but most folks judged her on her looks.

Finally, Mr. Winter looked up from his notepad. "I think I have everything I need now, dear." He stood up. "Enjoy your crown."

"Thank you so much." Just as Candace was about to stand up too, a prickling sensation spread across the back of her neck. She froze for a moment. Then she looked to her right and left. Searching for an escape route. A place to escape the prying eyes.

Until she remembered that her fear was what he wanted. Gathering her courage and reminding herself that she was in a public place and that he couldn't do anything to her with so many people around—she looked behind her.

And there he was. The man who she'd first started seeing about six months ago but who now seemed to appear in her life more often.

Today he looked almost normal. He wore a T-shirt, jeans, tennis shoes, and a University of Kentucky baseball cap. His light blue eyes seemed to take in every bit of her as he stared intently. For the first time all day, she was aware of how much of her arms and shoulders were exposed. How much of her skin was visible above the neckline of her gown.

When their eyes met, he came closer. Only a few feet. Moving with the crowd around him. He was nothing if not brazen. It had served him well too. He could blend in with anyone and had a knack for looking completely different each time she spied him. One time he was in a suit, another time almost looking Plain. Today's outfit made him a carbon copy of half the men at the fair. The only thing that ever stayed the same were his blue eyes and dark hair.

She knew those eyes well because they leered at her. He always smirked too. The one time she'd tried to report him, the officer had acted like she was a vain woman looking for attention. He'd said something awful about how pretty girls never like to give regular guys the time of day. Then he'd gone and reminded her that nothing had actually happened.

When she'd left the police station that day, she'd felt almost worse than when she'd walked in the door. Chief Foster had been kind but agreed with the other officer that there was nothing they could do for her. Not until the man actually threatened her or attacked her.

So now she was waiting for him to do that.

Afraid that he'd follow her if she left, Candace stayed where she was. She wasn't going to shrink in front of him, though. Looking him in the eye, she silently conveyed her distaste for everything he was.

He moved with the crowd again, this time stopping only two feet from her. "Hello, Candace Evans. You look good with your hair like that. I like it."

She forced herself to respond. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think?" He smirked as he folded his arms across his chest. "I'm doing the same thing half the county is ... looking at all the sights."

How could his seemingly innocent words create such a chill inside her? Changing her mind about staying put, she got to her feet.

"Don't go yet," he blurted.

His voice had squeaked. It took her by surprise. It was only then that she looked more closely at his face. He had soft skin, barely the beginnings of a beard. He was a lot younger than she'd imagined.

When he raised his hand, presumably to touch her, she moved out of reach. "Don't," she said in a hard voice.

"Don't what?" He looked almost smug. "What are you going to do? Scream?"

"I could."

"Sure you could." He scoffed. "That would make your mother real happy, wouldn't it? Making a scene with a crown on the top of your head."

She gritted her teeth.

"Just think of me as another one of your fans."

"You are not."

"I know that. I'm special." He lowered his voice. "I promise, all I'm doing is admiring the new Miss Crittenden County. You look so nice in that dress." He inhaled. "And you smell so good."

Her heart rate skyrocketed, and she stepped back farther.

"How does it feel, Candace?"

She felt trapped. She wanted to flee, but there were too many people standing around. If she ran off, everyone would think she was being rude. Or putting on airs. That she was stuck up and too full of herself for her own good. Her parents would be so mad, and the director of the pageant would be upset with her too. "H-how does what feel?"

"Having so many people think you're pretty? Do you need that? Do you need to feel like everyone is watching you? Wanting you?"

A handful of emotions surged through her. Distaste for his words, embarrassment that anyone would think that about her ... even regret for entering the pageant for scholarship money. "Of course not," she bit out. Hoping that her voice was stronger than she currently felt.

He took a step closer. "Why did you think you needed a crown, anyway? Was I not giving you enough attention?"

"You need to leave."

His eyes widened. "Not until I tell you my big news: I moved."

"You moved?" A slither of hope ran through her. Was her nightmare really about to end?

He grinned. "I did. Now we're practically neighbors."

"No."

"Don't worry, I won't interfere when you're busy being famous. I'll just see you other times."

Her hands began to tremble. She fisted them at her sides. "You can't do that."

"Don't worry, Candy. I'm not going to meddle with your life. I'll stay out of your way." He chuckled and turned to walk away. "Why, I bet sometimes you won't even know I'm there."

The lump that had formed in her throat had somehow moved down to her chest. No, that was her chest aching because at some point she'd stopped breathing. She pressed her hand to it and forced air into her lungs.

He disappeared into the moving crowd. She sat back down and clasped her shaking hands together. Hating that he'd known exactly what to say to put her even more on edge.

She needed to get away from him. But how? At least move out of the county. Maybe even out of the state.

Except that couldn't happen anytime in the next year. Not when she was Miss Crittenden County. Making up her mind, she decided to visit the police station again. Maybe this time they'd take her seriously.