Her Eyes Read Online Free PDF

for hours, and then Frank noticed the time. His stomach gave a second opinion on the late hour. Touching Catherine may be nice, but he needed food.
    "I'm starved. How about some dinner?"
    "What would you like?” She asked him, another rarity.
    "I don't know."
    She stood and started into the house, going through the back door and into the kitchen. There she opened the refrigerator, made a face, then opened the freezer. Very odd. He'd never known Catherine to cook. Now I'm being silly, looking for ghosts when there isn't anything but my wife struggling to recapture her life.
    "You don't have any food here. Poor guy. What did you do while I was in the hospital?” She looked in the pantry, jostled a few cans around, then turned to look at him.
    "The same thing I did before.” He scratched his head, wondering if he'd missed some joke. “Ate out or had a frozen dinner."
    "What? I'm a great cook. Why would you...” Catherine's face turned white.
    "What's wrong?"
    She gripped the edge of the counter. “It's like a bad dream.” She reached down, pulled her shirt free from her pants then looked at her stomach, running her fingers over the smooth skin. “This doesn't make sense."
    "What?"
    "This may sound weird, but did you ever try to hurt me? Stab me?” Her stomach was smooth, perfect, not a scar or scratch and this seemed to amaze her. She kept looking at it, pulling at the skin as if checking for something.
    Frank took a step back, confusion and horror washing over him. “No. Never."
    "I didn't think you had.” Then she closed her eyes. “No. He was smaller, dirtier. Always smelled of greasy car parts."
    "Who?"
    "What?” She shook her head. “I'm sorry, what?"
    "Who are you talking about?"
    "I don't know.” She tried to smile, but it was a poor effort. “I keep having this bad dream."
    "Tell me about it."
    A knock at the door startled Frank as it echoed through the house that had grown too quiet. He stood, glad for any excuse to get away from this conversation for a minute. When she told him her dreams, his skin turned to gooseflesh, especially when he knew part of it wasn't a dream.
    He walked away and glanced back, happy she hadn't followed him. Another knock hurried his steps through the house. He pulled open the door to find his neighbor Jim standing there holding Win's leash tightly and a box tucked under his arm.
    "This a bad time?” His Southern drawl always relaxed Frank.
    "No. Come on in."
    He opened the door wide, and Win bolted inside. The dog sniffed Frank, then stood on his back legs and gave him a big wet lick down his cheek. Frank patted him softly. He loved the old dog.
    "I saw your truck and thought you'd want Win back over. My wife also fixed you two supper."
    "Hello,” Catherine appeared at the edge of the room.
    Win ran to her, stopped, and Frank watched Catherine visibly steady herself against the dog. He sniffed her feet, then sat on his haunches, lifting one paw. She bent slowly, holding out her hand for the dog. He licked it then they shook as if meeting for the first time.
    "Well, aren't you friendly?” She got down on her knees and petted him. “What's his name again? Oh wait. I remember, Win."
    "Well, Catherine, you're looking well.” Jim had his old dirty ball cap on.
    "Thank you. It's good to be home and out of that hospital.” She stepped towards the door. “I think I remember you. Jim? And your wife is ... Mary? Right, Jim and Mary?"
    "That's right.” Frank reached down and gave the dog's head a rub.
    "Glad your memory is coming back.” He handed her the box, one of those that Jim brought home from the grocery store. “My wife fixed ya'll some supper."
    "That is so sweet. She didn't have to do that."
    "Our pleasure."
    "Why don't you join us?” She peered inside. “There's enough food here to feed an army."
    "No. No. My wife is setting the table right now."
    "Well, thank you. Next week I expect you and your wife over for a dinner. It'll be fun. Maybe we'll play some cards