Hi everyone! Sorry this update took longer. I've been really busy with work and school and the like. It's getting down to the wire… two months until graduation. So that also means stepping up the plans for grad school… so, I'm sorry it took long. But it's here:-) and it's a little longer – I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think – the story is beginning to move in a new direction. I want to add more of the other characters, but I think I may need a separate story to accomplish that – this story is very Peyton/Lucas centric. Again, I'll stop babbling, enjoy!

Chapter 26 A Fragile Soul

Peyton waved as she watched Winifred walk up to the school and then sat back in the seat of her car to collect her thoughts. Her baby girl was so brave; she didn't think she could have withstood the same obstacles when she was Winifred's age. The thirteen year old was going to school today for the first time in two weeks and if it had been Peyton, she would have been nervous. A lot could happen in two weeks of middle school. Despite the fact that she was finishing work ahead of schedule with the help of her parents and Aunt Haley, the young girl was determined to actually go to class as much as possible. Ashton was also back in school, attending his second grade year with other second graders and with a teacher who seemed to understand how to keep him interested in class. The private school was a bit more expensive than they would have liked, but neither parent had been willing to send their little boy back to the public school. After stopping at the grocery store, Peyton barely walked in the door before the telephone rang.

"Hello?"

"May I speak to Mrs. Scott, please?"

"This is she," Peyton said as she tried not to sigh. It always sounded strange to hear herself refereed to as Mrs. Scott. When a first name was attached to it, such as Mrs. Lucas Scott and Peyton Scott, she could deal with it. But plain old Mrs. Scott made her feel that Deb or May would pop out at any time.

"This is Nurse Wheeler from Tree Hill elementary—"

"Is everything alright?"

"Well, Ryan is sitting here with me, he seems fine, but he says he has a stomachache. His temperature is just fine and he hasn't been nauseous, but he insisted I call you—"

"I'll be right there," Peyton interrupted. Her kids had never lied to her before; she didn't imagine they would start now. If Ryan wanted to come home, he most likely had a good reason. Peyton just hoped it wasn't because he forgot to study for his German test. "Come on baby girl," she said as she hoisted Gretchen onto her hip. "It looks like it's going to be one of those days." Gretchen grinned at her mother, indicating that she had no problem with an interesting day. Nothing usually bothered her as long as she knew where her parents happened to be.

Ryan was sitting in a hard plastic chair in the nurse's office with a perturbed looking older woman; Peyton assumed her to be Nurse Wheeler. "Let's go, Ry," Peyton said kindly, her hand outstretched to her son. He took her hand gratefully and picked up his book bag with the other, following her out of the office.

"Mrs. Scott!"

"Yes?" Peyton whirled around on her heel, looking at the woman with an expression of distaste. The name Scott gave her the status and privilege of not having her time wasted very often; this woman was wasting her time.

"You can't just take him."

"Actually, I can. He's my son," Peyton said with an amused disbelief.

"You have to sign him out at the office," the nurse said, pointing to the office door. Peyton muttered under her breath but did drag both of her children into the office and take the ten minutes to explain to the noisy secretary and baffled principle that she was taking her son home.

"He doesn't look sick," the secretary said skeptically.

"He doesn't feel well. I'm taking him home. Where do I sign?" Thirty minutes after she initially received the call, Peyton had Ryan in the SUV, ready to take home.

"Okay, Ryan Nathan Scott. What's going on? You're not sick," Peyton accused nonchalantly.

"You promise not to get mad?"

"I won't be angry," Peyton corrected him, "as long as you tell me the truth."

"You can't tell anyone else."

"Okay," Peyton said automatically. They both knew that wasn't how things worked, but she would agree for now. She started the car and began to drive toward their home, telling Ryan to continue his explanation.

"You know Laura?"

"She's been over a few times," Peyton said with a nod. "She seems like a nice girl."

"She is," Ryan agreed. "She's really nice mom. But her parents aren't. And they're not just strict, they're mean. You and dad would never hit Gretchen if she spilled a carton of milk, right?"

"Are you telling me her parents hit her?" Peyton was ready to spit venom at the thought; that little girl had seemed so sweet and fragile. Some people simply weren't fit to be parents.

"Mom, you can't tell anyone—"

"We'll see Ry. How long have you known?"

"I went over to her house after school one of the days Fred was in the hospital. Uncle Jake was watching us, and he said it was all right. Her mom came home early and found us watching TV." Peyton could hear that her son's voice was cracking and that a lump of tears was gathering in his throat. He was too young to understand something like this. Hell, she was too young to understand how people could treat their own child so poorly.

"It's okay, buddy," she said softly as she pulled into the driveway. She parked the car, but sat and waited for Ryan to continue. "What happened?"

"Her mom got real mad and made her go to her room. But Laura didn't get up fast enough, so she pulled her by her hair and threw her in her room. I left right away, but I could hear Laura crying from outside. She always has these marks on her arms, where her dad hits her."

"So what does that have to do with today?"

"She'd not in school, mom. She hasn't missed a day yet, even when she had a cold. What if they did something to her?"

"I'm sure she's fine," Peyton assured her son. She saw his face drop and she sighed. "But I guess it doesn't hurt to check, right?" She pulled back out of the driveway, turning on her phone first and saying "Brooke." The phone rang about five times before a groggy Brooke answered.

"What's up, P. Sawyer-Scott?"

"Still sleeping, Brooke?"

"It's not even close to ten yet. Of course. What do ya need?"

"Can I drop the kids off for a few minutes?"

"Sure. As long as I don't have to change any diapers. What's going on?"

"Hopefully nothing," Peyton said as lightly as possible. "See you in a few."

"Bye-bye," Brooke chirped before they hung up. Peyton looked over at Ryan, who was rolling his eyes at the thought of being watched by Brooke.

"Sorry kid-o. I don't have much of a choice."

"What about Aunt Haley?"

"She has enough to worry about with the new baby. Besides, you won't be with Brooke long. And she'll just let you watch TV, so don't worry about it." Ryan wasn't the problem when it finally came down to the end; Gretchen began to howl when she realized that Peyton meant to leave her with Brooke. Ignoring the maternal urge to go back in the house and scoop up her baby, Peyton got back into her well-traveled SUV and drove the two blocks to Laura's house. She knocked on the door three dozen times, getting louder each time, but to no avail. She walked around the side of the house and realized that there were no cars to be found. She attempted to knock again, this time speaking.

"Laura, its Peyton. Ryan's mom. Are you in there? Open the door sweetie." After a few minutes, Peyton heard the lock on the front door hesitantly turn. The door opened a crack, and Peyton saw Laura's eye peak out before she opened the door completely.

"Hi Mrs. Scott," Laura said softly, her sad eyes cast to the rotting wooden planks of the porch floor.

The title from this chapter comes from Martina McBride's "Concrete Angel."

"Somebody cries in the middle of the night,

The neighbors hear but they turn out the lights,

A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate,"