At first, the flesh was tight, constricting. Pain burned from Pam's outer reaches, slicing into her from the foreign body. Pam moved with it, trying to ease herself into its plane. She rolled and felt more stabs emanating from her outside, the new flesh, then sinking into her core. She cried out, stretched, tried to take it all in and become part of it.
The throbbing was horrible, but she had to do it, had to for Frank. He needed her, and she needed a way to reach him. A flesh hand to touch him, to protect him from that monster named Catherine.
With determination that she would remember who she was, who Catherine was, and that she could find Frank, she rolled, setting herself in line with the body. As she did, she glimpsed a form above the bed. It was a woman, the body's owner above her smiling. Tears filled the woman's face. Her energy ebbed and flowed in tired and erratic lines.
"I don't want to be here anymore.” The woman was young but had hurt too much too soon in this life to take anymore.
"Then leave in peace,” replied Pam.
"Thank you."
As if her words set the woman free, she flowed into the texture between the worlds, headed for a happier place. The threads opened, took her in, then folded closed. The action caused a ripple, a wave perhaps only Pam could feel. It hit her, grew in intensity, knocking her backward.
"Frank,” she screamed suddenly afraid she'd missed a new host. “Frank, I'm here. Frank! Please, Frank."
Chapter Eighteen
"What was that?"
Frank had been held in grief, taking awkward steps away from the woman on the bed when he heard a cry from another room. The sound was nothing more than a shriek, but it held his name, mixed with a pain deeper than anything he'd ever heard before.
He stumbled to the hallway and saw two nurses standing in front of the door. Down the hall, an orderly pushed a bed onto an elevator, but no one looked for him. From there he listened, wondering, hoping he'd hear his name again. That Pam had jumped into one body. It was possible that she could jump into another. It had to be.
No, that was wishful thinking.
At Parson's lecture, he hadn't said anything about moving into two bodies. Had Pam come to the end of her time here? Did she have to move on? Or could she still be with him? Still he stood there, listening.
"I can't believe she's alive.” The nurse sounded excited, beaming with joy.
"It's a miracle.” The older nurse crossed herself then looked in his direction. “Two miracles in one day."
He smiled, knowing the nurse spoke of Catherine. He didn't consider that a miracle, more like evil iron will or even a curse. If Pam made it back, that would be truly amazing, unlike the return of his wife.
His wife. Oh shit, he had his wife back.
He didn't want to face that possibility lying in the next room. The idea of taking her home made his skin crawl. As he stood in the hallway, he knew that was what he'd have to do. She was technically his wife and short of divorce or murder he had to deal with her. Sure, he could admit she tried to kill him not once, but twice, but to what end? She would still be alive and Pam would still be gone. He looked to the wall, contemplating knocking some sense into himself at losing Pam not once, but twice. How could I have helped her stay? There has to be some way I can bring her back. He could call Parsons and see what he had to say, maybe he knew how to find another body for Pam, one that she could stay in this time.
Or was it because of his own weakness that Pam couldn't stay? What could he have done to give her the strength to win the battle for that body?
As he waited, he noticed there was no one calling his name. It had to have been his imagination, some part of him wanting his Pam back. He wouldn't get another chance with her. Somehow that knowledge made his life more empty than it had been before he'd found Pam. He'd been a man that had it all—now without, the loss crippled him.
"Who was that she called for?” the younger nurse asked.
"She'd said, ‘Frank.’ Don't know who that could be. I thought she didn't have anyone. The police didn't have any missing persons that fit her description. Her picture has been in all the newspapers but no one has come forward."
"What?” Frank ran forward. “I'm sorry, did you say someone in the next room called for Frank?"
"Yes.” The younger nurse smiled at him, then glanced in the next room. “We thought she wouldn't recover but when we went to unplug the machines, she woke up screaming ‘Frank.’ Amazing, isn't it?"
Frank pushed by them. Inside that room was his love, his Pam. He knew it in his soul. Behind him, he heard the nurses, but paid them little attention as he shoved open the large door and stepped inside the room. The light shone in the window, machines surrounded the head of the bed, but the bed itself was empty.
"She's not in there, now.” The older nurse put a hand on his shoulder. “When she regained consciousness they took her immediately downstairs. You just missed her."
"When? Where?"
"For testing. They have to see if there's any brain damage. I doubt they'll even return her to this room."
Frank felt dizzy and reached to the wall for support. She'd made it back. He knew it. He'd been so close. If only he'd gone into the hall the moment he'd heard his name instead of remaining in that room with Catherine, he would have found Pam.
"Please. What was her name?"
The nurses looked at each other. The younger one shook her head, then stepped into the hallway. The older nurse led Frank to a chair against the wall and sat him down. He resisted but only mildly. So much had happened the strength drained from his body.
"She was listed as a Jane Doe. We won't know her name until she tells us. Even then, we can't divulge any private information."
"What happened to her?"
"All we know for certain is that she was pulled from the river with a bad head injury three months ago. I was working on this floor the night they brought her up. She'd been wearing sneakers, shorts, and a T-shirt like she'd been jogging. Everyone guessed she'd been mugged in the park and was either pushed or fell in the river."
"Do you know where they'll take her?"
"No. Sir, you have enough to worry about with your own wife. Go back into her room. I'm sure she wants to see you.” She patted him on the shoulder. “So much wonderful news. It's a miracle."
He rose, nodding slowly. “I'm sure she does need me. But, really, isn't there anything at all you can tell me about this woman? She called me. It has to be someone I know or who knew I was here. Maybe she was awake or out of the coma for a few minutes when we brought my wife in and saw me. Maybe you missed that quick moment she was awake."
"I'm sorry Mr. White, the machines would have shown us she woke."
He stopped, standing in the hallway, and looked back at the nurse. “Is there a way I could find out about Jane Doe's status later?” He realized how insane he sounded. That was no way to get information. “I mean, both miracles happening so close to each other. I just want to meet her."
"I'll check with the doctor. Patients are entitled to their privacy so I'm afraid ultimately the decision will be hers."
"Of course."
He entered Catherine's room, not because he wanted to, but for appearance's sake. He looked at the bed where a nurse checked Catherine, asking her questions, and writing down her answers. Probably checking for brain damage on her too. They didn't know she had something worse, a black heart.
Frank had to wonder about Pam now. Did she remember him? Would she begin picking up memories from the new body she inhabited? She might have a husband, children. Being a Jane Doe, he doubted it. Family would've reported her missing. It didn't change the fact that she may not remember him or their time together.
"Frank, come closer to the bed."
He shook his head while standing near the door. “I don't want to get in the way."
"I'm finished.” The nurse smiled politely then left the bed, giving them time alone.
He didn't know what to say. There was no telling how much this
Catherine remembered either. Did she remember Pam? If so, he bet life would be interesting when Catherine returned home.
"How are you feeling?” Frank's mouth felt numb, his tongue too large, but he still tried to speak.
"Better now.” She smiled. “What? Aren't you happy to see me? How about a kiss?” Her blue eyes glowed, bright, alive, and without a trace of green.
"No.” His sighed heavily and thought about what he had to do. “I'm going to visit you every day. I am going to make sure you have everything you need, but also realize that we're getting a divorce."
"What?” Her eyes grew wild. “I'm in the hospital and you tell me this.” She grabbed at the remote, trying to fling it, but found it attached to the table.
"You know what you've done. Don't make me bring this out in court. It won't be pretty. All the affairs, the murder attempts, this is over. It's been over for a long time."
"I'll see you in hell first!” She tore the IV from her hand and leaned forward. “This isn't over you, bastard. I'll kill you before you leave me."
"That's the problem."
Frank turned and stepped to the door, finding a very shocked nurse standing there with her pitcher of water. There was nothing he could say, so he stepped around her and into the hallway. Once more, he stepped into the neighboring room. No nurses loitered outside this time.
Had Pam been here?
He didn't know for certain. He stepped to the bed, still unmade, and sat, splaying his hand on the sheet where she had lain. There was no way of knowing for certain, but he believed his Pam had returned. Now he had to find her.
Down the hall, he heard female chatter. Some staff no doubt. He left the room and walked down the hall to the elevator. He had a lot to do to prepare for. If she had returned, he would find her.
Chapter Nineteen
She tried to focus on the doctor, but the stainless steel objects in the room kept giving her glimpses into what she looked like and she wanted to see. It seemed strange, but she couldn't remember her face. For some reason she really wanted to know what color eyes she had. Logically it made no difference, but something inside, some strange panic she couldn't explain, made her lean toward the cabinet next to her for a glimpse. Then she saw it, a strange gray-green.
"You're doing fine, you're doing really well, miss. I'd like you to keep your head straight and just follow my finger with your eyes."
She did as he asked, catching a hint of red hair as she followed his finger to the next reflective surface. Red was a surprise. For a moment, she could've sworn she was a blonde. Red looked good though, it seemed to suit her.
"So tell me, how are you feeling?"
"Okay I guess. I little foggy, where am I?"
"Mercy Hospital. Do you remember coming here?"
She thought for a moment, nibbling on her lower lip while she thought back. There was something about a hospital, but she couldn't catch the fleeting thought. “No. Not really. Did I hit my head or something?"
"I was hoping you could tell me. Could you tell me your name?"
"My name?” Was it Catherine? No, that's not right. She hated the sound of that name. It's ... it's ... didn't the people who brought me in tell you?"
"Why don't you rest for a bit and then we'll talk some more, how does that sound?"
"Claudia ... my name is Claudia, I'm sure of it.” A huge smile filled her face, and wave of relief washed over her.
"That's good, Claudia. Do you remember your last name?"
"Ummm, it's-it's.... I-I...” She shook her head, feeling a little defeated.
"No problem, Claudia, you're doing really well."
"Any chance you remember where you live or your phone number? Any family?"
Deep in thought, she chewed her lower lip. “I wish I could help you, but I don't ... I just don't."
"That's fine, Claudia. Why don't we get you settled in your room, and we can talk again later."
"Sure, yeah. I'd like that."
A nurse appeared and helped her into a wheelchair. Claudia wished they would let her walk. Her legs felt unused, but she had already learned not to argue with them. She waited like a good patient while the nurse spoke to the doctor. Finally, they started down the hall.
The placed smelled funny, like disinfectant. She hated that smell. It reminded her of something, cleaning old floors in Montana. She shook her head trying to bring the memories back but the thought slid into a quiet house and eating on a deck. The smell changed too, becoming cologne, the scent of a man.
Claudia closed her eyes, not wanting to see the generic, tired-looking hospital, but the memories wouldn't come in clearly. She kept them closed as the nurse bumped and pushed her onto the elevator. The dings of the floors broke through her thoughts. Whatever was trapped in her mind might never come back.
The nurse wheeled her off the elevator, and Claudia gave up trying to remember. She would simply take each day and see what happened. Maybe there was nothing in her old life worth remembering.
"Your new room."
The nurse grinned, opening the curtains and letting in the blazing sun. She acted like this was a suite in a hotel instead of a bed for just another messed-up person. The nurse even insisted on helping Claudia out of the wheelchair and into the bed.
"Just push the buzzer if you need anything."
"Thanks."
Claudia kept the same glazed smile on her face, matching the nurse's, until the door closed and she had her privacy again. She waited for ten seconds then stretched, touching her toes, wiggling her fingers, anything to feel like a real person again. Moving was wonderful, like settling into her skin.
That's an odd way to think about it.
She got out of bed and touched her toes. The blood rush caused excruciating pain but she dealt with it long enough to make her leg muscles come alive. They hurt too, probably hadn't moved in a long time. Not long enough for complete atrophy to set in but too long to be healthy. That was probably the reason they had her starting physical therapy tomorrow. She didn't feel that bad, though. If only they'd let her walk on her own, everything would be better.
Claudia rubbed her thigh muscles, willing away the discomfort when the door to her room started opening. Odd that the doctor didn't knock, she could only guess that they were used to her being unconscious. Either way, she hurried back into bed, trying to act like the good patient, when the door stopped opening. She couldn't see much, but could make out the white lab coat her doctor wore.
"Is that our Jane Doe?"
"She's no Jane Doe now,” came the voice of her doctor. “We have a first name and the good news all her tests come back with her being just fine. No permanent damage. I'm sure her memory will come back before too long."
Claudia didn't recognize the other man's voice. It was nice, deep, with a little husky sound thrown into it. She also had to wonder whom her doctor would be discussing her medical results with.
"Hope so, I'd like to see this case closed and whoever beat her up and tossed her into the river put behind bars."
"Do you always get this involved in your cases?"
"I'm a detective. I have a professional interest.” His voice was stern, almost defensive, in his response.
"Really? I've dealt with a few police officers and none of them ever visited a patient every single day out of professional interest."
Claudia listened, straining to hear what sounded like an embarrassed laugh from the stranger. She had no idea someone had visited her while she'd been written off as ready to die. This stranger was interesting.
"Okay, you busted me. There is just something about her. Something different, special. So, can I see her?"
"Give me a few minutes to check in. I don't need anyone traumatizing her at this point or forcing any memory back down again."
"Understood."
Someone visited me. Someone cared about me, Claudia Jameson.
As the doctor walked into her room, she felt the smile spread across her lips. “I think I remember my last name!"
"You do? What do you think it is?” The doctor moved to sit in the chair by her bed.
"Jameson. My name is Claudia Jameson.” Another flash, like a movie, played through her mind and more about her mysterious past came to light. “And I'm from Missoula, Montana.” That was it. She could see the mountains out of the car window, could smell the pine trees. She remembered Montana.
"Missoula, are you sure?"
"Yes. Yes I am. I left home. I was tired of the cold and wet, and well, I wanted warmth and sunshine and moved down here.” There was more. Someone died back in Montana and she had no one left there. She couldn't remember the name, but Grammy came to mind.
"Is there anyone you'd like us to call for you?” The doctor smiled, seeming as pleased with her bits of recollection as she was.
"Umm, no, not right now. I don't have to, not now, do I?"
"No. Just relax. You're going to be with us a bit longer and we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
"Okay. I don't suppose you would let me take a walk around the floor.” She hoped, wanting to move, to live.
"Not yet. You may have more dizzy spells. If everything looks okay tomorrow, then we'll see about getting you out and about."
"But this place is boring. Do you at least have a book I could borrow?"
"I'll see what I can do."
* * * *
Mike listened, taking notes. He hadn't thought about Claudia not having anything, no clothes, no books, nothing. At least she'd gained her identity. That was start. She would have a rough time ahead with no family or friends for support.
Standing at the door, he listened to the doctor, then waited in the hallway for the doctor to grant permission for him to see Claudia. It seemed to take forever for their talk to end. Mike wished he could just go in or maybe Claudia would remember him. They say coma victims could hear people speaking. Maybe, just maybe she remembered him.
Leaving her with a promise to bring some books by for her to read and bidding a soft goodnight, Dr. Lee exited the room. Mike tried to not appear excited. The last thing he needed was for his boss to catch wind of his extracurricular activity of visiting the hospital.
Her Eyes Page 12
