Christmas Behind Bars #simplychristmascontest

Chapter 8- Underneath the Tree

     "Laura! Laura!" Her mother's frantic shouts tore her out of her dreams and back into reality.

"What is it, mom?" She flipped off the black and white comforter, and instantly, a chill sent a shiver slithering down her spine all the way to her toes. Her mother, Ingrid Daniels, flung her bedroom door open while Laura pulled an Old Navy hoodie over her pajama top.

Though it was no later than seven, Ingrid was already fully dressed in a pencil skirt and matching blazer. Not a single, dark hair was out of place, and her cell phone was resting in her hand poised to do business. Laura rolled her eyes. For once in her life can't she just give it a rest?

"Your brother never made it home last night," even though her outward appearance was one of calm, her voice evidenced the grave concern living beneath her power suit. For a moment, Laura experienced the pricking of remorse for keeping her brother's location a secret from her mother. Because she knew the woman who brought her into the world, she knew it was best to hold the information back a little longer no matter the consequences. When Ingrid learned her son had been kidnapped in a sense, she would not hesitate to call the police and have Darcy thrown in prison. By this time, surely, Preston no longer wished to see the police show up at the redhead's doorstep...she hoped his heart was changing anyway. It was too early...it would be wrong to tell her mother anything now.

"Mom, Preston is a big boy," Laura tried to sound as reassuring as possible, "I'm sure he's alright."

"How can you be so sure?" Ingrid's blue eyes held a fear Laura had never seen before. Honestly, the alarm written on the expertly Botoxed face shocked her. For the first time, she believed her mother might care about them more than she let on.

"I just have a feeling," she hoped her mother would not notice how feeble her words sounded.

"I called the airport, and his plane landed on time. I've spoken with every hospital in the city...and the morgue." A tear slipped down her cheek, and she bit her lip while struggling to compose herself.

"And?"

"Nothing."

"See...nothing," she wrapped her arms around her mother's waist, and to her astonishment, Ingrid's hands rested on her back as she pulled her close. Thinking back, Laura could not remember the last time her mother gave her a hug. Maybe this whole ordeal would be good for herself as well as Preston and Darcy.

"What if he's lying face down in a ditch...what if he needs me."

"Mom, don't worry...he's fine."

Ingrid pulled back and looked her in the eye. A hard, familiar expression replaced the soft, unfamiliar one. "You know something...don't you?"

"I'm smart," she averted her eyes downward. "I know lots of somethings."

"Where is he?"

"Can't you just be happy knowing he's fine?"

"Where is he, Laura? I won't ask you again."

"Good...because I'm not telling, and I'm ready for breakfast." Sliding her feet into a pair of slippers, she hurried out of the room and down to the kitchen with her mother blustering and fretting not far behind her.

***

The house was silent as a tomb as the morning sun peeked over the horizon. Preston quietly padded down the stairs. As he approached the kitchen, the faint sound of music tickled his ears. Leaning against the door jam, he found Darcy stirring something in a glass bowl and doing an awkward, little dance to a song playing on the radio. Smiling he watched her for a moment as she blissfully grooved to the music and even joined in singing when she knew the words using the dripping spoon as a makeshift microphone.