"Did you enjoy your little vacation from me?"
Erin looked up from her book to see that the food door was open. It had been six days since that had happened, and she was getting down to the last of her food reserves, so she was unsurprised that she felt grateful for his appearance. Her stomach grumbled loudly when she finally drew in the delicious scent of a hearty soup. "It was peaceful, yes, John. I managed to finish the project I was working on for Penelope, so you'll have to find a way to deliver that."
"Of course. Anonymously, of course. Just like Alex's was. It's good that you're being so productive, but I'm surprised that you haven't made anything for your children yet."
She knew that John was mocking her, and she placed a bookmark in her place before getting off the bed and going over to the food door, grabbing the tray with her bread bowl of soup, along with a rather large chocolate cupcake. "I haven't made anything for them yet because then they would know that I'm alive, and you don't want that."
"The likelihood of them figuring out that you're alive from one piece of knitting is slim to none. It's not like you have invented any new stitches. And one knitted garment looks like any other. So go ahead and knit something for your spawn. Give them something to unknowingly remember you by."
Erin rolled her eyes a little as she set the tray down on the table before picking up the shawl for Penelope and handing it through the door. John's fingers brushed the back of her hand, and it was in that moment that Erin realized how touch starved she was, because she wanted to reach out and grab hold of that hand, even though it belonged to her nemesis. Jerking her arm back through the hole, she listened to John as he let out that sinister laugh she had last heard on the streets of New York. "Did you need anything else, John?" she asked, not wanting to let him think that he had the upper hand.
"No. I'll be back later with supper for you. And maybe some news on your precious David. Enjoy your meal." He slammed shut the door, and Erin let out a long breath as she made her way over to her table and took a seat, picking up the spoon and digging into the hearty beef barley soup contained in there.
She tried to pace herself, knowing that she'd make herself sick if she ate too fast, but her stomach seemed to win out. Still, she took her time picking apart the bread bowl, finding herself full by the time she was finished with that. Deciding to save the cupcake for later, Erin brought the empty tray back over to the food door and set that on the shelf before going back to the bed and picking up her book once more, easily losing herself in the story. Since she had access to YouTube, Erin decided to allow a playlist of classical music autoplay while she read, finding herself starting to hum beneath her breath to a Mahler piece randomly started. Erin found peace in the music and the story, and her mind wandered to the fact that the symphony was going to start soon, and she wouldn't be there for the opening night gala. A choked sob welled up in her throat unbidden, and Erin pursed her lips together in an effort to stem the flow of tears. Wiping beneath her eyes with the knuckle of her pointer finger, Erin took a few deep breaths in order to calm her the emotions roiling through her mind like waves on a stormy sea. "You are going to be fine, Erin," she murmured as she turned the page on her book, trying to push away the idea of missing out on yet another thing that brought her joy. "And maybe David will be home for the gala and go in your place. Even if he hates those things."
Blinking slowly, Erin refocused on the page in front of her eyes, managing to finish her chapter before declaring it a lost cause. Shoving the bookmark firmly in place, she set the book next to her as she got up and began to pace the perimeter of her room in an effort to work out some of the pent up energy. Still, the music played on, and Erin felt like she was going to burst open in a torrent of tears and sorrow. Finally, she felt a little more calm, and she knelt in front of her project trunk, pulling out fresh yarn and needles before opening her project binder and turning to the one pattern she knew would take her quite some time to finish. It was something that Bruce had begged her to make for him, and she had never gotten around to it, telling him that she just didn't have the time to work on it while she was also working. Now she had all the time in the world, though, and it would also be a clue that she was still alive, since this was the yarn he had picked out for the project and it was the pattern that he had wanted made.
As she cast on the correct amount of stitches for the back of the sweater, Erin thought about how shortsighted John was being, his unyielding pride assuming that she was being daft in her reply to him about her children knowing her knitting. And while it might take her a month or two to finish this project, it would be ready in time for Christmas, and maybe, just maybe, she'd receive a miracle that night, too, like had happened so many years ago in Bethlehem. Erin rolled her eyes again, this time at herself for the hyperbolic, maudlin, thought that had seriously just ran through her mind. "You are entirely too ridiculous, Erin Strauss," she muttered as she recounted her stitches, making certain that she had the correct amount there before starting her least favorite part of knitting, the two by two rib. Still, that was what the pattern called for, and she knew that it would make for a good hem on the sweater. Losing herself in the steady, boring, work, she allowed her mind to focus on the music, letting it wash across her brain as her fingers worked.
By the time John showed up with her supper, Erin was just about to start in on the pattern part of the back, so it was a good place to pause for the evening. "I see that you have started a new project. Awfully small to be a blanket."
"It's the beginning of a sweater, actually. Since you want me to make something for my children, I decided to start with this for my son."
"Ah, how lovely. It is always so heartening when you listen to me. If you had done more of that when we were working together, perhaps all of this could have been avoided. Enjoy your supper, and don't worry, I have no need to drug your sleep tonight."
"How….?" she started to ask as she grabbed her tray , but John closed the door before she could formulate more of her question, and she frowned deeply as she brought the food over to her table, sitting heavily to eat as she tried to formulate what her next plan of attack would be, since it was clear that in this case, John was still two steps ahead of her.