Jars of Things

Jars of Things Dawn Merriman Book 5 in Maddison, Indiana Supernatural Thrillers Chapter 1 ERIN DARCY I stare out the window into the darkening sky and think of him. Is he missing me too? Is he looking at the same clouds I see? Will he come looking for me? Does he even know where to look? The news crews have stopped camping out in the front yard of my mom’s house. The story of the long missing, now returned, kidnap victim made national news and the crews camped out in the field across the road, trying to get a glimpse of me. I gave one statement when I first came here. They dressed me up and did my hair. My sister Tessa even put a little makeup on me. They wanted me to look normal, adjusted. Like the last fifteen years didn’t happen. I smiled shyly for the cameras and said what Mom, the writer, told me to say. It was all lies. This house feels like the prison. The mansion felt like home. I cross my childhood room to the door. The room looks the same as it did the day Warren took me. The same posters on the wall. The same bright teal blue shaggy rug on the floor that clashes with the purple comforter. I used to sit on that rug and draw in my notebooks or do my homework. The room feels foreign, like a stranger lived here. In so many ways, that Erin is a stranger to me now. I close the door and lock it tight. The lock is on the wrong side, the inside, but at least it feels familiar to have the door secured. I feel safer behind the locked door. A moment later, I am forced to unlock it and rush down the hall towards the bathroom. It has been months since the morning sickness sent me to the bathroom attached to my room at the mansion. All the excitement has brought it back. Leaning over the toilet, my mouth waters uncontrollably and I spit into the bowl as I wait for breakfast to re-appear. It doesn’t take long. When I’m finished, I sit against the tub, the porcelain cool on my back, and ponder what I should do. I focus on the imprint of flowers on the toilet paper roll, thinking. My hands cradle the growing swell of my belly. I am fairly far along now, but I haven’t grown too large. But I can’t keep this pregnancy a secret forever. No one will understand. They will all think Warren is the father. He’s gone now and I could easily take that route, blame this baby on him. But that wouldn’t be fair. A soft knock at the door intrudes on my swirling thoughts. “Erin? Are you okay?” Mom asks through the door. A moment of panic floods my blood and I pull my hands away from my middle. Does she know? How long can I hide this? “I’m okay,” I lie, wiping my mouth that is beginning to water again. Please, belly, stay still. “You sure?” A gentle voice I haven’t learned to trust yet. Swallowing hard, I push to my feet. “Just finishing up.” I turn on the sink faucet and dip my hands in the cool water. I splash some on my face while Mom decides whether to believe me. “If you’re okay, then.” I turn off the faucet and listen for her steps down the hall. When I’m fairly certain she has left me alone, the tension leaves my shoulders and the rest of my breakfast comes up. I wash my face again, rinse my mouth and open the bathroom door. I step into the hall and Kiko, mom’s medical alert dog, is waiting in the hall. I bend to pet the dog’s black head, rubbing her behind the ears like she loves. Warren’s dogs were here for a while when I first came home, but they had to live in the barn. They have since been adopted out. Mom and Walt say Kiko is enough dogs for this house. She is one of the bright spots in my life here. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth as I rough up her fur the way she likes. “Hey, girl. How’s your day going?” Her tail wags in response. I feel Mom watching me from the door to her office. She has the sharp eyes that don’t miss much that I do remember from my life here before. I fight the urge to cover my belly from her glare. That would be too obvious. “I heard you,” she says with a mix of metal and softness. “Heard me what?” “Throwing up.” Her eyebrows raise in question. She’s not yet asked me about life in the mansion. Says I will tell her when I’m ready. I’ll never tell anyone. “I think I have a touch of the flu,” I say, my hand resting on her dog’s head. She presses her lips together, her face half shaded from the dim hall. “I don’t want to pry, Erin, but if there is an issue, you need to tell me.” I lift my chin. “I don’t have an issue. I’m happy to be home,” I lie. She studies my face and I know she doesn’t believe me. “You’ll talk when you’re ready.” I try to pull up feelings of love I used to have for this woman. Fifteen years in captivity has dampened them, but the remnants are still there. I cling to the scraps. “I’m fine, Mom.” I even add a weak smile, feeling sorry for her. She’s so worried about me now that I’m home. And I can’t imagine what she went through while I was gone. So far away, yet close the whole time. I tried to let her know I was okay when I sent the letter. I’m not a monster. Mom senses the crack in my armor and takes a step towards me. “I love