Chapter 6: Home

They let me out of the hospital on Monday morning, four days after I came in.

My daughter had to stay.

She was breathing on her own for twenty minutes at a time now, and the nurses said that was a miracle.

I said goodbye through the hole in her box, and a nurse promised to call if anything changed.

Jonas drove me home in his own truck.

He had asked on Sunday if I wanted a ride, and I had said yes before he finished the sentence.

My stitches pulled with every bump.

We stopped at the curb in front of my grandmother's house, a white two-story with a green door.

There were three cars in the driveway.

One was Garrett's gray SUV, and one was Marjorie's silver sedan.

I did not know the third.

"Whose is that?" Jonas asked.

"Delaney's rental, I think."

"The one that broke down?"

"I guess it got better."

He turned off the engine.

"I'll walk you up," he said. "I'll stay on the porch if you want."

"Come in," I said. "I'd like someone in there who isn't one of them."

The front door was unlocked.

I walked into my own front hall, and the air smelled like roast chicken.

My grandmother's umbrella stand was by the door.

My brown leather bag sat on the hall table.

I opened it.

Wallet, insurance card, pills, all of it.

Nothing was missing.

I stood there with the bag in my hands, and my whole body went cold.

Marjorie came out of my kitchen, wiping her hands on my dish towel.

"Piper! Oh, honey, you shouldn't be on your feet." She said it as warmly as she had said everything. "I was just making supper for the family."