Her Eyes

by Jennifer Cloud, Regan Taylor

  Before she knew it, the work day was finished, and thankfully, Frank had been busy at a different location when Mike came to pick her up from work. It was foolish, but she didn't want those two to meet. Her blessings were doubled when Mike informed her that he couldn't take her to work the next day. She was sure he wanted to ruin her chances of keeping the job. He had a smug grin when he told her that it wouldn't be possible for him to bring her any longer. One phone call and her transportation worries were over.

  Frank began picking her up and bringing her home. Amazingly, they never ran into Mike. Mike's work kept him busy, and he was hardly ever at home, which suited Claudia fine. It was almost like Mike had started distancing himself from her. She often ate dinner alone, and Mike didn't come home until midnight or later.

  Cooking for herself seemed silly. She didn't even know how to make single portions, which was another clue into her life. What it meant, though, she didn't know. Another sandwich did nothing to help her appetite. Toward the end of the day several weeks after she had started working for Frank, deciding it was time to treat herself, Claudia opened the phone book to the restaurant section. She didn't remember ever eating many places in the area and hoped might find a place with some good take-out.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Just finding someplace to eat."

  "What about your boy—roommate?"

  She caught his slip but didn't correct it. They'd had this discussion before and she didn't like the doubts it raised in her. Besides, she couldn't move out yet. She didn't have enough money to rent a place of her own. She had also remained in Mike's bed. Nothing much happened there, not since she had started working for Frank, but she feared going back to her old room would make Mike more jealous.

  "He's been working late.” She looked back at the long list of restaurants. “How are things with your wife?"

  "Ex, the separation is final, now I'm waiting on a court date over the divorce."

  "Really?” She ran her fingers over the listings, but didn't really pay them any attention. “Word around here is that there's more to the two of you than you admit. That Catherine has quite a reputation."

  He cocked his head to the side and looked at her. “Have dinner with me and I'll give you some true confessions, deal?"

  She tried to hide the smile spreading across her face. “Deal."

  Frank glanced at the clock and started turning off the lights in the trailer. They usually worked later than this, but with dinner plans, Frank had stopped being such a workaholic. Claudia took the hint and filed away the last of her papers.

  "Ready?"

  "Ready."

  Frank walked with her outside, but she noticed that he checked the construction site several times. His easygoing demeanor changed every time they left the office. Even now with the last of the men heading home for the day, he watched the traffic, then turned around.

  "Something wrong?"

  "We'll talk about it at dinner."

  At last, he got in the truck and double clicked the locks. His nervousness seemed worse tonight. There were times when he'd taken her home that he passed her house and circled, as if he feared being followed.

  They went to the little Italian place where they had first seen each other, Claudia remembering the sad look in Frank's eyes that night, a look that had seemed to fade as she spent more time with him. Their meals ordered, Claudia dug right in. “So, tell me about you and Cathy?"

  "Catherine, she was never a Cathy. Anyway, the short story is we met in high school, had hot sex a couple of times, and thought it was love. We ended up getting married, and after a few months, I realized I didn't know the woman I married. Things went downhill from there. She was a grabby, cold, mean-spirited piece of work. I know you aren't supposed to say things like that about your wife, but that's the truth. She started having affairs not so long after our first anniversary. I knew, but I didn't know. Does that make sense?"

  Claudia nodded.

  "I guess I just didn't want to know. I didn't want to think about how I was unlovable. After all, why else would you have an affair if your partner was otherwise all right. So I ignored the signs, hoped she'd start to feel something for me, something besides disdain and dislike. But she didn't. I had a call at a site one afternoon, some remodeling work, and as I arrived I saw Catherine getting into an elevator with some guy. There was no doubt it was her. I looked over the job and waited for her to leave. It was her and it was obvious what had been going on. Suddenly her afternoons out, late nights, it was clear, she was having an affair.

  "At that point, I moved into the den and got Win. Somehow, and I know this sounds crazy, I felt like I needed him to protect me. Turns out I did."

  Claudia watched as he swallowed, a distant look coming into those kind eyes of his.

  "Claudia, I've never told anyone this before. Not the police, not my best friend. But, somehow, I feel like I can tell you. I had to finally tell the police, but so far, they haven't been able to prove anything. And, well, I felt so, so, I don't know, confused after the first attempt I couldn't do anything."

  "I'm listening."

  "She tried to kill me. My wife actually tried to kill me."

  "What? You're kidding, right?"

  Claudia stopped and grabbed the table with both hands. Dizziness overcame her, and for a minute, she felt like she was falling, but not on the floor. Blackness surrounded her, and she could hear a voice, a cold hard voice replaying as part of a memory.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Yes. Just keep talking. Please."

  "I told you, she is cold. It seems one night she decided that she didn't want to be married, didn't want a divorce, she wanted me dead. From what I could put together, I was sleeping in the den, she came in, went to shoot me and Win saw what was going on and went after her. He shredded, literally shredded, her face. The gun did go off, that's what I think woke me, not Win growling or anything. When the police came I told them that someone tried to break in and she saved me by shooting at him. I lied because I just couldn't admit to anyone that Catherine could do that to me. That I was that undesirable that my own wife wanted to kill me."

  Undesirable, was he kidding? This was the most wonderful man she'd ever met.

  "Frank, that is horrible. I'm so sorry."

  "This may scare you, big time, but I figure it's better to get it out. I'm sure you heard about Jose. The police can't directly connect her to his poisoning, but I believe Catherine did it."

  "Scare me? You think she may come after me?” Claudia swallowed hard, fear rising within her.

  "No, she could care less if I date anyone. I mean ... not date, but you know, spend time with a woman friend or employee. I just don't want a bystander accidentally getting hurt. All this sounds too weird."

  "Hey, I'm coma woman, can't be any weirder than that."

  "Coma?” His eyes grew bigger and she found him staring at her more intently.

  "Relax. I don't remember any bright lights. None of that fun stuff you hear about on television. I remember very little actually. One day I'm in Montana, and the next I wake up here. Mike, my roommate, took me in when I woke. I had no family, no friends, nothing. I'm Mike's charity case."

  He studied her again, almost as if he searched for something in her eyes. “Okay, let me ask you first. Do you remember anything from when you were in the coma? Seeing or hearing anyone? Maybe calling out for Frank?"

  "No.” And it was pretty strange that he thought she would call for him. Maybe he was being funny. “It was like suddenly there I was. Awake in the hospital room."

  "Well, now I'm not saying I believe this, okay? Just this is what seemed to happen.” At her nod he continued. “Catherine had a face transplant. Not just a skin graft or anything like that, we're talking almost a whole new face, including a new eye. Catherine had blue eyes, cold blue eyes. It was like looking in a glacier when you looked in them. The eye they got her was green like a bottle. Well, she was always stuck on her looks, how pretty she was. With th
e scars, she wasn't so beautiful anymore. So one night she tried to kill herself. Took an overdose of pills."

  He stared at Claudia for a moment probably gauging her reaction. She wouldn't mock him and nodded for him to continue. “While they were trying to bring her back all the electronic equipment in the room went crazy, and here's the part that ... well, I don't know if I want it to be or it really was, but there was like a gush of wind, like someone passed through me. When Catherine woke up, she was different, warm, compassionate, caring. She was very much like a friend of mine from high school. My best friend actually and the woman I was really in love with. The woman I wanted to spend my life with."

  "Why didn't you?"

  "I married Catherine. Pam, her name was Pam, was everything Catherine wasn't. She moved away toward the end of high school, before I married Catherine. I know now that I was in love with her. That she was my soul mate."

  "Why don't you find her, tell her?"

  "I did.” His gaze grew distant.

  "And?"

  "Claudia, this is where it gets dicey. She-she, ah ... she died."

  Claudia's hand went to her mouth. For some reason, his story made her heart hurt. It was sweet and romantic, but pulled at something deeper in her. His loss ebbed through him and seemed to find a home in her.

  "Oh Frank, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

  "But she didn't just die. Man, this is going to sound so crazy. Like I said, I haven't told anyone, except this psychic whoo-whoo guy named Parsons, the whole story, but I feel like I can tell you and you won't go running and screaming away."

  "Go on. I'm listening."

  "Pam died the night Catherine tried to shoot me. She was in a bad car accident. They brought her to the hospital same hospital Catherine had been taken to. Pam was the donor for Catherine's transplant work. When Catherine woke up she started reminding me of Pam, and she would go back and forth between being like Catherine and Pam. One of my neighbors told me about this thing called a walk-in."

  "A walk-in?"

  "Yeah. I went to a talk about it, to find out more about them. Apparently, if a soul is too tired or doesn't want to go on, if there's another soul that is willing, they can walk into the other one's both. They agree to finish out the lessons and mission of the one that walks out. Pam walked into Catherine's body."

  "Okay. So, if your wife is Pam, why are you getting a divorce?"

  "She's not Pam. It's Catherine."

  "I'm confused."

  "I'm sort of guessing here, but I think Catherine decided she didn't want to die and she fought Pam to get her body back. She managed to get Pam out of the body. I don't know where Pam is. I hoped, at one point, that she would find another body. Not that I wish anyone to die or a soul to get tired of trying, but I wanted her to find a body and come back to me. In fact, the night they fought for control, I was in the hospital and I swore I heard her call my name. I went to look but there was no one in the room."

  "Oh, Frank. That is such a sad story. I'm so sorry for you and Pam!” The things he said sounded too incredible to believe, but some part of Claudia knew that he spoke the truth. There was no questioning it.

  "Thanks. That means a lot, you know? That someone genuinely cares."

  "So if she found a body, how would you know?"

  "I don't know. I wouldn't even know how to find her or find out."

  They sat in silence for a few minutes. Again, something tickled at the back of Claudia's mind. Something she felt she should know.

  "Don't laugh. What about a séance?"

  "A séance?"

  "Yeah, see if you can reach her, find out where she is."

  "A séance. Where would I find someone to do one of those?” Frank looked like the biggest skeptic in the world. A very odd change considering what he'd just told her.

  "Hmmm, well, I can check around tomorrow. What do you think?"

  He considered it a few minutes before finally answering. “It's better than anything else I've come up with. A séance it is."

  The rest of dinner went well with their conversation revealing they enjoyed the same books and movies. She even learned about his family and the few people that he truly considered friends. It seems his ex-wife even destroyed many of his friendships. He was a strong man to put up with so much, but she didn't dare to tell him so.

  At the end of the night, Frank took her home, dropping her off at the corner as she requested, instead of in front of her house. It was silly. Mike had to know where she had been, but she didn't want to aggravate him.

  She walked up the street and followed the walkway to the porch. All the lights were off. Mike's car wasn't in the drive. Relief filled her. At least tonight he wouldn't play twenty questions with her.

  It wasn't like she was cheating on him ... right? She and Frank had just had dinner and some conversation. There was no commitment, and she had told him that absent her memory returning she just didn't see any commitment happening. Glad that he wasn't there, she settled down with a cup of tea and mulled over what Frank had told her. Mostly she had listened to his story, but much of what he said made complete sense to her. She had wrestled with telling him about her own experience. Not just some of the things she “saw” while in the coma, but right before she woke up and the snatches of memories that seemed so disjointed. I couldn't have had two bad relationships, could I? I couldn't be that stupid, could I? Maybe after Frank went to a psychic or did a séance. There was something so heart-wrenching about that Pam woman he talked about.

  Weird, I almost feel a connection to her except I couldn't. At least I don't think so. I can't remember or have any feelings about having a friend die. Yeah, maybe after that I can talk to him about my own experience and that kind of ghost-like thing that happened right before I woke up.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  "So that was his game."

  Catherine watched Frank drop off the floozy he had hired for the office. That woman had to be the reason Frank hadn't taken her back. He had found something younger and tighter to spend his time with. Figures. He threw her in the street for a pretty face.

  The sheriff's department finally removed her from the house a couple of weeks before. She had dodged them for a week, but eventually they removed her things and when she came out protesting, they also removed her. Now she had her car loaded with her few personal possessions. To add insult to injury, she heard one of the deputies call Frank, telling him that he could move out of the trailer. His house had been cleared.

  Cleared! Like she was some pest, nothing more than a roach to be removed. Frank had married her, exchanged vows with her. Now she wasn't even going to get a house of the deal. When Frank finished with her, there would be nothing left for her. She wouldn't get alimony, much less half of anything. That old codger from next door told her that he would be going to court, would be telling the judge all about her antics.

  There was no way Catherine would end up in a trailer park or back at her mother's. She hadn't even spoken to her mother in ten years. She would not let that whore know what had happened.

  Catherine watched the redheaded trollop walk up the sidewalk. Running her over would be easy. There were hit-and-runs every day, usually by criminals. No one would suspect her. Of course, all she had was this car, and she didn't need to tear it up or get taken back to the station for questioning.

  Her real trouble was with Frank. All his money would be inaccessible to her if this made it to court. She couldn't let that happen. For now, she would leave the trollop alone and focus her energies on Frank. She doubted he would be at the job site tonight.

  Out of all his jobsites, Frank spent most of his time at that location where the tramp worked. There had to be something there she could use to her advantage. A little creativity was all it would take and, as her previous boyfriends would agree, she could be very creative.

  She turned the car around and started back toward Frank's main office. By this time tomorrow, she could play the grieving widow, move back in, and wait to col
lect his money. She didn't know how to run a construction business. None of the men she dated was worthy of a business, they hadn't even offered her a place to stay. She would have to sell that. Maybe take a cruise somewhere exotic where she could find a man worthy of her.

  Catherine looked into the rearview mirror. She had to apply her makeup heavier with the scarring, but she could pull off finding another man. All she had to do was get them to the bedroom, and they would want her for the rest of their lives.

  She sped along the road, finding energy in her purpose. A few turns and she was staring at the construction site. Big flood lamps lit the area to discourage thieves who loved to steal expensive equipment to feed whatever drug habits they clung to.

  The good lighting helped. There were concrete columns in place where the road would be directed over the new bridge Frank's men were building. Rebar stuck out like strange hair in some sections.

  Catherine knew little about construction. Her husband's business never interested her. She had a good eye though and when she saw the crane, she knew there would be plenty of ways to mess that up.

  Frank had several peculiar habits. If something important or seriously dangerous was happening at a site, he had to be there. He often thought of his men like family. Family! The idea disgusted her.

  There was plenty that could go wrong with a crane but she needed something fool-proof, something that was sure to kill Frank no matter where he stood. Guaranteeing something heavy fell on him would be impossible, unless she could operate the crane. That would be fun. Squish the bastard liker a spider. She loved the idea. It wasn't feasible though.

  With machines, she didn't know much. Most of what she had learned came from boyfriends she had paid attention to while they tried to impress her. One guy told her how to build a pipe bomb. He wasn't a terrorist but one of those ATF guys. He could talk all day about work, fires, and basic explosives. His tedious conversations made their affair a short two weeks. She had listened during the bomb part though, considering it another way out of the marriage. The thing about pipe bombs was that most were delivered by mail and very traceable even by the smallest remaining fragments. Something at a construction site, with the ingredients kept at the site, might be much harder to trace.