Read Online Remember Me by Sharon Sala - Free Book Online Page A

was beginning to forgive, or was it just a word that he’d used out of habit?
    â€œDrive safely,” the nurse said as they bundled Frankie into the front seat of the car.
    â€œYes, ma’am,” Clay said.
    Moments later, they were pulling away from the hospital. Clay managed a smile and a pat on her leg before he lapsed into silence. Frankie couldn’t bring herself to pretend that all was well between them anymore. She should have been elated to be going home, but all she could feel was an overwhelming sense of panic. And there was a certainty within her that wouldn’t go away. She might not remember the last two years of her life, but she remembered her love for her man. She would not have left Clay of her own free will. Ever. And yet he believed that she had. That knowledge fed anger. The anger fed hurt.
    As Clay stopped at a red light, another reality hit Frankie with a jolt. Accepting that her disappearance had not been of own accord, what reassurance did she have that it would not happen again? All she could think was, God, what a mess.
    â€œClay?”
    He answered absently, his gaze focused on the red light as he waited for it to turn green.
    â€œHmm?”
    â€œI don’t have a job anymore, do I?”
    Clay looked startled. “Why, no, honey.” Then he added almost apologetically, “It’s been two years.”
    She thought of the library, then looked away. “I loved working there.” Her fingers curled into fists as the light turned and Clay accelerated through the intersection. “As soon as I’m better, I’ll start looking for another job.”
    He frowned. The idea of Frankie being out of his sight was frightening. “There’s no hurry,” he said quickly.
    â€œBut we’ll be needing the money. My salary always pays…I mean paid, the utilities. If I don’t work, it’ll put us in a bind.”
    Clay hesitated, choosing his words carefully so as not to insult her. “Not really—at least, not anymore. I bought Dad out a while back. The company is doing good. There’s no rush.”
    She didn’t know what to say. One of their dreams had already been realized and she’d had no part in its happening. Fear spiked. What else had he done in her absence? Please God, just let him still love me.
    A few minutes passed, and the silence inside the car was growing more uncomfortable by the moment. Finally, for lack of anything else to say, Frankie said, “I was wondering about my clothes.”
    A muscle jerked in his jaw. “They’re in the spare bedroom closet. Mom got them all out the other day and washed them.”
    â€œAll of them?”
    He nodded.
    â€œI didn’t take anything with me?”
    He hesitated, then shook his head.
    The tone of Frankie’s voice shifted sarcastically. “And you didn’t think that was strange?”
    He inhaled sharply, angered by the accusation in her question. “Don’t go there, Francesca. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Two years ago this month, I came home, expecting to see my wife, and instead I found blood in the bathroom and a broken coffee cup and spilled coffee on the kitchen floor. Within an hour, I was the prime suspect in your murder, so don’t give me ‘strange.’ Everything about it was strange.”
    In the middle of his answer, Frankie started to shake. She could still hear his voice, but the words were fading. Something flashed across her memory.
    Hands upon her mouth.
    A sharp prick in the flesh of her upper arm.
    Someone whispering her name.
    She gasped and put her hands to her head as if trying to hold on to the images, but they disappeared as quickly as they had come. She groaned.
    â€œWhat?” Clay asked.
    â€œI don’t know. Something just…” She shook her head. “It’s gone now. I don’t know if it was a memory or my imagination.”
    Clay refused to