The Way Back

The Tickets

She pulled herself out from the warmth of the comforter, tumbling out of bed. Libba yawned and stretched as she glanced at the digital clock on her nightstand. It was too early for her mother to be awake. To a normal person, noon wasn't early. She sleepily stumbled into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. Staring into the mirror, Elisabeth frowned and ran her fingers through her cherry cola colored hair. Maybe it hadn't been the best idea. She felt like she was practically bald even though her locks touched where the strap of her bra would rest. She knew her mother hated it; she wasn't sure if Stevie disliked the cut or the color more. Libba put her hair into a messy topknot and walked out of the bathroom, strolling to the door of her childhood bedroom. She stopped and cursed under her breath as she put her hand over the golden doorknob. "Godammit," she muttered and looked down at herself. Her father would have another almost heart attack if she roamed around the house in a tank top and panties like she had the first morning of her holiday break. That was one of the many things Elisabeth had to get used to since he had officially moved into the house. She was certain her father's presence was the reason why Sara had moved out, but she wouldn't press the matter since Sara always got on her nerves. There were only so many Mick Fleetwood stories a person could bear to hear.

Moments later, she popped out of her room. Her senses were assaulted with the smells of fresh brewed coffee, chocolate, cinnamon, and vanilla. Libba's heart skipped a beat, and the girl jogged down the stairs, sliding into the kitchen on her socked feet. She bounced over to her mother, observing her skillfully running a warm knife along the edge of the pan to loosen the homemade fudge. "You are the best!" Libba declared, throwing her arms around her.

Her mother chuckled and kissed her head. "You're only saying that because I'm making your favorite."

"I am not. You'd still be the best even if you didn't make cinnamon chocolate fudge," Libba responded, moving over to the coffee pot and pouring a cup. "But it definitely helps," she elaborated with a playful wink, adding in a decent amount of cream and an unreasonable portion of sugar to the classic roast Folger's.

"Glad you have clothes on this morning, Libba," Stevie commented on her daughter's choice of flannel pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt that appeared to be two sizes too large.

Elisabeth smirked as she stirred her coffee. "I didn't want him freaking out again," she said and pulled out a stool, climbing on and watching her mother place the fudge onto a cutting board. "He freaked out like that time I was fifteen and asked if he could pick up tampons."

Stevie laughed, shaking her head. Lindsey dealing with certain aspects of a female's being was not one of his finer qualities. She carefully peeled off the parchment paper and began cutting the block into pieces.

"Mama, just one pan?" she inquired.

"Elisabeth Rhiannon," the blonde recoiled, giving her daughter a stern look. "You know better," she whispered harshly. "There's another pan chilling in the fridge."

Elisabeth grinned widely and leaned over the counter, removing a perfectly cut piece. She popped it into her mouth and chewed happily. "Why are you awake right now anyway?"

"I couldn't sleep," she answered. She didn't understand why Lindsey could not sleep past nine o'clock or how he could make enough noise to wake her even if he did everything in his power to be as silent as possible.

She nodded her head and sipped her coffee. Libba wouldn't dare ask why her mother couldn't sleep. It was too much of a loaded question. "Hey. Are we going to do the sugar cookies after this?"

Stevie smiled warmly at her daughter. It was their Christmas tradition. Hopefully, it would brighten Libba's rough patch. Stevie had checked on her before she called it a night, and it had broken her heart seeing her baby asleep with photos scattered all around and an empty carton of ice cream on the bed. "We can," she responded. "Let me put this in the fridge first." She lifted the tray of fudge but put it back onto the counter, gasping at the sudden, quick jabbing feeling. Stevie bit her lip and lightly pressed a hand to her lower belly, smoothing her palm over the area until the pain subsided.