Frank reached for Win. The dog snapped a warning to Frank then turned back toward Catherine. One wrong move and Win would pounce on her. Even though Frank was a large man, he wasn't sure he could get Win away without giving the dog a chance to hurt Catherine.
"Don't you give a shit about me?” Catherine screamed, high-pitched and angry. “You're worthless."
Win rose on his hind legs, front paws on Catherine's chest. His jaws stopped inches from her throat, ready to rip into it. Frank looked back at Jim. He couldn't let Win hurt Catherine.
"Get to the bedroom. My hunting rifle is in the closet."
Jim moved instantly. Frank refocused on Catherine, her wide eyes staring at the dog. Frank eased closer, trying to put his hands between Catherine's throat and the dog's teeth. He got his left hand between them, and tried to ease the dog back. They had to be calm to get Win down. He looked deeply into Catherine's eyes, hoping to convey this when he realized they were both blue. Those were the old Catherine's eyes.
"Your eyes?"
The dog lunged, putting its teeth on Catherine's throat and Frank's hand. He didn't apply pressure though. Frank heard Jim running behind him, but Frank had the dog blocked with his body.
"I belong here,” Catherine cried, her voice raspy and hard.
"No, you don't.” She also answered, but the voice was softer, panicked, but still determined.
Win started applying pressure, and Catherine screamed. Frank shoved his hand into Win's mouth, pulling him down at the same time. The two wrestled for a moment on the floor, but Win never bit Frank, only tried to use his body to get back to Catherine.
"Don't shoot.” Catherine ran toward them and waved at Jim. “Win, it's okay. It's over. It's okay, boy."
As if the dog had learned some new command Frank was not aware of, he stopped. Catherine reached down and petted him. Instead of barking, he leaned to her with his tail wagging. He gave her sloppy wet kisses, happy without the slightest aggression.
Frank stayed sitting on the tiled floor. This time when Catherine looked at him, her green eye had returned. Her voice had also lost that shrill edge from moments before. She hugged the dog, practically held onto him for dear life.
"Please don't hurt Win. He wasn't going to hurt me.” She looked frightened, but not like before. This time her fears were for the dog who'd just been at her throat.
"Jim, would you take Win to your house for the night?"
Jim started forward without saying a word. His body moved with rigid intensity as he stepped towards the dog. Catherine moved between them, keeping Win behind her. After what had just happened, she protected the dog.
"You can't take Win. I want him to sleep with us tonight.” Panic filled her voice, her eyes growing wide. “Please. I have to keep the dog with me. I have to."
"Lady, you've got to be crazy.” Jim spoke, then brought his hand to his mouth.
She nodded, but Frank wasn't sure what she was agreeing to. She reached for the hunting rifle still in Jim's hands and put it on the floor. Without putting up any sort of argument, she led Win outside, closing the door behind them.
"What in the hell just happened?” Frank realized that he was sitting on the floor in a mess of dog hair and drool. A few scratches marked his forearms, but the dog hadn't drawn any blood.
"It's like what happened earlier.” Jim offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. “Strangest thing I've ever seen. I figure you know your wife, Frank, but it's like there's two of her. Like one of those multiple personality people.” He glanced to the back door then back to Frank. “What do you want me to do?"
"I don't know. I guess go on home. I'll stop by in a little bit. I need someone to talk to.” He picked up the rifle from the floor. “Did you notice Catherine's eyes just now?"
He waited, but Jim shook his head no. Shock clung to the old man's face. It had a hold of Frank too, but he didn't want to admit it. Not yet anyway. He needed logic to right this, and so far, this wasn't in the same ballpark as anything rational.
"Both Catherine's eyes were blue just now. Not the one green, one blue, they were both blue.” He swallowed hard. “They were the old Catherine's."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. How does that happen?"
"I didn't think it did.” Jim rubbed his eyes, making Frank believe he was trying to force the images out manually.
"Me either."
"You go talk to her. I'll be at the house. Bring the dog if ya want, but I won't keep him inside."
"Thanks, Jim."
Frank watched Jim go, not walking him out but waiting in the kitchen until the front door slammed shut. He wasn't sure what to do, or even what to say to Catherine. Suddenly he had to hold her in his arms. He wanted to see those beautiful mismatched eyes. It felt like he'd lose her at any minute. Something vicious beyond his control threatened his wife, his love.
He ran out the back, finding her sitting in the grass, near the roses he'd planted. Both her arms were around Win. From the look of them, hell and high water couldn't part those two. He sat on the ground with them.
"I don't want you to take him, please."
Frank gave Win a hug too, then pulled Catherine to him. Win was a little stubborn about moving, but finally gave in. Frank pushed Catherine to the ground, trying to see those eyes in the bit of light from the house. The green one appeared brighter, almost twinkling.
"Win, go in the house and play.” He couldn't explain it, but he needed her, to have her as part of him.
That's all he said before pressing his mouth to Catherine's. Her kiss was reluctant, but grew in intensity as their tongues intertwined. Even the taste of her had changed since her stay in the hospital. He wanted to drink it in, taste every bit of her. This was his wife.
He pulled her top free, nearly ripping her bra before he could reach her breasts. Her pants took less time. While enjoying her nipples, he unfastened her pants. She reciprocated, jerking away his clothes, but there, naked in the grass, their passions slowed as they gazed at each other, and he took in every detail of her body. Frank watched Catherine's reactions. Light touches down her sides made her coo while his lips on her breasts caused her to gasp in pleasure.
She opened her thighs to him, exposing her sex. He touched the outline then slipped lower, wanting to taste those lips too. She started closing her legs, almost nervous about his slow downward progression.
Frank flicked his tongue lower and her hips moved, involuntarily she spread her thighs. She watched him, ran her fingers through his hair. A strange quiver filled his belly, as if they'd never been together before now. They were learning each other. Their years of marriage were erased, and here they were, a man and woman. Whatever happened between them, he'd remember this moment, the look on her face, the way she sounded when he gave her pleasure. This woman had never betrayed him or never caused him pain.
"I love you, Catherine,” he whispered climbing higher over her.
"I love you too."
At her response, he entered her. Her soft body moved in time beneath him. They were one and more than physically. This was his mate.
Chapter Seven
The hour grew late before Frank took Catherine inside their home. She looked tired, so he'd carried her and tucked her into bed. Win went to the foot of the bed and lay on top of the covers like a guard dog.
"Will you be okay while I run next door and talk to Jim?"
"Sure.” She grinned in a sexy, sleepy way. “Don't leave me alone all night, though. I might get lonely."
"I won't be long."
He kissed her again and almost changed his mind. Jim might be waiting. He usually went to bed at eleven. Funny the things one knew about a neighbor, although Frank hadn't really known this, at least not consciously, until the night that night Catherine got hurt. The clocked ticked to midnight. Frank stepped outside, going down the front steps once he saw the lights on next door. The houses weren't too close together, thankfully, but he saw Mary's shadow appear in the window. A moment later
, the porch light came on.
Frank walked to the front door. Before he knocked, the door swung open, and Mary ushered him inside while looking out the door to see who or what he'd brought with him.
"I came alone. Catherine wants Win to stay with her."
"Don't stand at the door all night. Come in.” Her head, covered in small pink foamy curlers, bobbed up and down as she spoke.
Frank stepped into the house. Modern on the outside, the inside was filled with antiques, family photos, and clutter from years of living in the same place. He liked it, despite the stack of newspapers that would never reach the recycling station or the overflowing green box with plastic bottles. That was how they were. They collected everything, thinking that one day it would come in handy. Problem was, even when a specific item would be helpful, they couldn't find it.
They stopped at the living room. Jim sat in his recliner, gazing at the television, absently listening to the 11:00 news. Mary had a rocker near him, that left Frank the couch. He had to move five throw pillows before finding room to sit down, and then he realized that he'd messed up the afghan on the back of the couch. Quickly smoothing it, he sat, leaning forward to keep from disturbing anything else.
"How is she?” Jim spoke first, hitting mute on the television before Frank responded.
"Fine. I guess. This whole thing is getting weird."
Mary looked at Jim then opened her mouth. Jim immediately shot her a warning look that she promptly ignored. Her eyes were wide, her interest barely restrained. Mary loved to talk anyway, but this time it seemed she had something that Jim didn't want her to say.
"Now, I'm not one to believe in those non-Christian things. You know, supernatural stuff's more for those pagans.” Her gentle cadence reminded Frank of another time when women wore long dresses to church and used fans while sitting in their pews.
"You're a fine Baptist, Mary.” Frank told her, even though he didn't like where this was going.
"At the hospital, you said her heart stopped. When she woke, she acted different.” Mary paused, and Frank nodded, assuming that's what she wanted. “Has it occurred to you that ... well, have you ever heard of a walk-in?"
"Is it like a drive-in?” Frank didn't mean to sound harsh or make light of what Mary was saying, but he couldn't follow this conversation.
"No, smart-ass. You sound just like Jim.” She shook one old boney finger at him. “A walk-in, it's like a spirit."
"You think my wife is a ghost?"
"No. I think when she tried to kill herself, her soul tried to leave and another took up residence.” Her mouth shut tight, lips pressed together into a thin line. When no one spoke, she continued. “Okay, make fun if you want. How else would you explain her strange behavior, or the dog?"
"I don't know. You explain it to me."
"I think your Catherine changed her mind, and now there's two souls in that body. One has to go. I think Win is trying to make the old Catherine leave.” She leaned back, crossing her arms over her large chest.
"A walk-in, Mary?” Frank asked, a distant look growing in his eyes, as if he were remembering something. “What exactly do you mean by that?"
"As I understand it. Now, remember, I don't necessarily believe this. It's just something I heard and then did a little reading about, you know?"
Jim sighed, and Frank nodded. That Mary had done more than heard a little something and did a little reading was clear to both.
"Mary, if you have an idea what's going on with my wife I would sure like to know. At this point I think I'd believe anything."
"Well, here's what I remember. I went to this lecture on reintarnation."
"Reincarnation, Mary."
"That's right, thank you Jim, reincarnation. So, what this person said is that before we're born we have this whole list of things we're going to do. In each life, we have certain things we're going to do to finally get to where we don't have to come back here anymore. Sometimes we bite off more than we can chew, and we get tired. We just don't think we can do it, so we want to give up. Now, suicide is a sin, a terrible sin and like the Catholics, they believe you go to hell for doing it. These metaphysical folks, they think that you can come back to do things right.
"But, sometimes, there is a soul that is maybe more advanced or someone that really wants to live. The body they were in finished what that person needed. That's why sometimes children die. They finished their mission here on earth, and it's time for them to go. But they like it here. So they make a deal with someone who isn't happy or who feels like they can't go on, and when the time is right one soul takes the other's place.
"Now, I don't know if this is so about Catherine. After the accident, she may have realized what a mean, rotten, snotty, b—"
"Now, Mary, you know it's wrong to speak ill of the—"
"She's not dead, Jim. She may have been for a few minutes but she's not dead now."
"Uh, Mary,” Frank interrupted, “what were you going to say about Catherine and the accident?"
As if to say, “See, someone thinks I have something important to say,” to her husband, she nodded. “As I was sayin',” she continued, “Catherine wasn't the nicest person around. Self-centered, vain ... never did know what you saw in her. Anyway, she may have realized she made a mess of things and didn't know how to make it right. She thought pretty highly of her looks and maybe she thought that without them she was nothing, a big nothing. You add that in with how rotten she must have known she was, she may have just said, ‘Enough,’ and wanted out. Well about the time she wanted out, maybe another spirit, a nice one, was wandering by, and figured Catherine's body was as good as any other, and when Catherine stepped out, the other one stepped in ... walked in. See what I mean?"
"I follow you, Mary,” Frank assured her, “but I'm not sure about this. I mean, how does a soul just wander around?"
"Ghosts, only not scary ones, but the ones that just weren't ready to die."
"But what about that other person's family? Why not go back to that family?"
"I don't know about that, the speaker didn't really talk about that, and I don't remember reading much about it. But it seems to me that if that person's job was done, they don't need to be part of that family anymore. And besides, if they have grieved, and went through the funeral and all, they might not take too kindly so someone just popping in and sayin’ ‘Hi, I'm your dearly departed,’ you know?"
"I suppose."
"Now, they don't always remember. In one of the articles I read—see I found this very interesting—they said that the new soul comes in and is able to pick things up, and they sort of remember, but they don't really know about the new body or remember a lot about the old. Over time, they forget the old life and become more and more the new person, but because they are more highly evolved, they don't become rotten. What I mean is not pick up the old personality traits."
"Well, now, I have something to say."
"What's that, Jim?” Frank nodded to the older man.
"I remember years ago some actor died, he wasn't all that famous, just been on TV for a couple a months, and he died. Well they donated his body parts, you know heart, lungs, corneas, the usual parts. One guy got his heart, and he talked in a magazine about how he was glad to have this new heart because his old one didn't work too well and he was going to die and this one worked fine. But, he found himself liking other foods and sports he wasn't too fond of before. They called it ‘cellular memory’ or some such thing. The cells in the donated heart remembered what the first person was like. Maybe that's what's going on with Catherine. Maybe whoever donated her eye or skin or both, was a really nice, caring person and Catherine is benefiting from that nice person's parts."
Frank didn't want to say it out loud, but that sounded even more out there than what Mary had to say. “Still, do either of you think it could be both? That the donor was a good person and that nice personality is coming through and that another soul or the donor's soul wants to be here?"
"You never know.” Mary said, nodding sagely. “You never know."
"Well, that makes as much sense as anything else I guess. I wonder who walked in if that happened. They don't tell you who the donors are with the privacy laws and all that. Still, Catherine said something the other night about a man who smelled bad and a knife. I thought it was just a dream, but now I'm not so sure."
"I think we'll have to wait and see."
"Jim, I do agree with you there. It's just so strange."
"Have you told anyone else about this?” Jim asked.
Frank remembered when a mother from their church had been worried over their daughter dressing in black and wearing funny make-up. Mary had half the women at her church organized into what people teasingly referred to as the Curse of the Baptists. They brought the family covered dishes for a month with someone from the church praying with them until the girl gave up wearing black. Sure, she'd tried to run away first. The ladies from the church tracked her down at a teenage hangout and embarrassed her into coming home. Now the girl had cleaned up and had a scholarship to college. She'd probably do anything to get out of this town.
"I had to get some advice, but I didn't go gossiping.” Mary groused.
"No,” Jim said dryly, “that would be a sin.” He snickered, and Mary pushed the recliner button, forcing him into a seated position.
"I appreciate everything, Mary, but I'm not buying soul jumping as an excuse for what's happening. I'm going to call a doctor tomorrow. I'm more worried about brain damage than anything else."
"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."
"Thanks, Mary."
Frank said his goodbyes and Jim walked him out. They stopped halfway between the properties, neither seemed to know what to say. A stiff breeze chilled Frank. Finally, Jim spoke.
"I know my wife seems daft, but some of what she said makes sense.” He chewed his bottom lip a minute. “That sure as hell ain't the same Catherine who used to scowl at me from the window."
"Sure, but then what? You want me to perform an exorcism? Maybe I should politely ask Catherine to leave and the nice one to hang around as my wife?"
Her Eyes Page 6