shower. She wasn't good enough for Frank.
"I'm afraid this changes our picnic plans, though. I'm going to have to make some calls, pull someone off of another job. I have a guy in mind, but that means promoting someone else. I'll probably be here all day and maybe all week."
"I understand.” But she didn't want to. This was horrible. Her dreams of a loving home were shattered. “I'm sorry."
Frank helped her back into his truck and drove her home. He said that he forgave her, but he was quieter this trip. It might've been her imagination, but he seemed colder too. All this sat like a weight on her heart.
He walked her to the front door. Instead of a real kiss goodbye, he gave her a peck on the cheek. Things had changed. Damn it all, she hadn't wanted it too, but the happy home she had so briefly had had already turned sour.
"I'll be home later."
Catherine flopped onto the couch with Win. The two of them watched television until she thought she might go crazy. At six, she called his cell phone, but Frank didn't answer. She went to the kitchen and started dinner anyway. She set the table with candles, tried to make things romantic. By eight, she realized that Frank wasn't going to be home for dinner.
Again, she called him. “I'm worried, Frank. Are you okay? Please call me. Please."
She didn't like the desperate sound in her voice. Then Win's fur started to lift, a low rumble came from his throat. Instead of grabbing him, hoping he'd make it better, she ran to the bathroom. It would be better to lose herself in madness than realize that she'd lost Frank.
Catherine glanced at her reflection and again saw the woman with two blue eyes. She hated her. That was the person who'd done those terrible things, things she was paying for now.
"I want my life back,” both women said in unison.
* * * *
Frank checked his messages and nearly called Catherine back. He couldn't do it though. His gut stayed in knots. He'd never known she'd been sleeping with his foreman. In fact, he wasn't sure who his wife was or is. She'd tried to kill him, had slept around, and now, for brief moments, she was perfect. How long could that last? How long before she broke his heart?
"How do I do this?” he asked himself in the empty trailer.
He almost wished there were a different spirit caught in Catherine's body, that Mary's rambling about walk-ins was correct. But who would walk into Catherine's body? How could he know who it was or where they came from? Of course that would mean that the woman he loved wasn't his wife. He couldn't keep the knives and such away from her forever, but he didn't want to lose the soft side, the one that liked holding his hand.
She had said someone went after her. Was it possible there was a walk-in and that woman had been attacked? How could he find out? What good would it do? If he found out who she was, would it send her away? Or make the rest of the bad part of Catherine go away?
Who was he kidding? There was no easy way out of this nightmare. The woman he wanted could vanish at any time.
Chapter Ten
At midnight, she heard the front door open. She turned on the living room light and watched Frank wince in pain. He stumbled, but it was the smell that gave away his drunkenness. She hated that smell. It was how he smelled when he would beat her. No. Frank didn't hit her. Frank loved her, was her best friend, the man she always wanted to spend her life with.
"Why didn't you call me?"
He didn't answer, only walked by to the kitchen. She followed, watching him drink straight from the faucet, then rummage through the refrigerator, pull out cold pasta, and begin eating it from the pot with a fork.
"I will fix you a plate if you'd like."
"That's okay.” He finally spoke, although his words were slurred.
"I don't like you driving home drunk. I could've gone out and picked you up."
Frank stopped with a forkful halfway to his mouth. He set the pot on the counter then stepped closer, too close. He looked into her
"I'm afraid this changes our picnic plans, though. I'm going to have to make some calls, pull someone off of another job. I have a guy in mind, but that means promoting someone else. I'll probably be here all day and maybe all week."
"I understand.” But she didn't want to. This was horrible. Her dreams of a loving home were shattered. “I'm sorry."
Frank helped her back into his truck and drove her home. He said that he forgave her, but he was quieter this trip. It might've been her imagination, but he seemed colder too. All this sat like a weight on her heart.
He walked her to the front door. Instead of a real kiss goodbye, he gave her a peck on the cheek. Things had changed. Damn it all, she hadn't wanted it too, but the happy home she had so briefly had had already turned sour.
"I'll be home later."
Catherine flopped onto the couch with Win. The two of them watched television until she thought she might go crazy. At six, she called his cell phone, but Frank didn't answer. She went to the kitchen and started dinner anyway. She set the table with candles, tried to make things romantic. By eight, she realized that Frank wasn't going to be home for dinner.
Again, she called him. “I'm worried, Frank. Are you okay? Please call me. Please."
She didn't like the desperate sound in her voice. Then Win's fur started to lift, a low rumble came from his throat. Instead of grabbing him, hoping he'd make it better, she ran to the bathroom. It would be better to lose herself in madness than realize that she'd lost Frank.
Catherine glanced at her reflection and again saw the woman with two blue eyes. She hated her. That was the person who'd done those terrible things, things she was paying for now.
"I want my life back,” both women said in unison.
* * * *
Frank checked his messages and nearly called Catherine back. He couldn't do it though. His gut stayed in knots. He'd never known she'd been sleeping with his foreman. In fact, he wasn't sure who his wife was or is. She'd tried to kill him, had slept around, and now, for brief moments, she was perfect. How long could that last? How long before she broke his heart?
"How do I do this?” he asked himself in the empty trailer.
He almost wished there were a different spirit caught in Catherine's body, that Mary's rambling about walk-ins was correct. But who would walk into Catherine's body? How could he know who it was or where they came from? Of course that would mean that the woman he loved wasn't his wife. He couldn't keep the knives and such away from her forever, but he didn't want to lose the soft side, the one that liked holding his hand.
She had said someone went after her. Was it possible there was a walk-in and that woman had been attacked? How could he find out? What good would it do? If he found out who she was, would it send her away? Or make the rest of the bad part of Catherine go away?
Who was he kidding? There was no easy way out of this nightmare. The woman he wanted could vanish at any time.
Chapter Ten
At midnight, she heard the front door open. She turned on the living room light and watched Frank wince in pain. He stumbled, but it was the smell that gave away his drunkenness. She hated that smell. It was how he smelled when he would beat her. No. Frank didn't hit her. Frank loved her, was her best friend, the man she always wanted to spend her life with.
"Why didn't you call me?"
He didn't answer, only walked by to the kitchen. She followed, watching him drink straight from the faucet, then rummage through the refrigerator, pull out cold pasta, and begin eating it from the pot with a fork.
"I will fix you a plate if you'd like."
"That's okay.” He finally spoke, although his words were slurred.
"I don't like you driving home drunk. I could've gone out and picked you up."
Frank stopped with a forkful halfway to his mouth. He set the pot on the counter then stepped closer, too close. He looked into her
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