At first, she thought it really was a heart. Not a human one, of course, but possibly a valuable trinket that had slipped from a chain and landed on the sidewalk. Or maybe an elaborate button, once the prized decoration on a sweater from a posh boutique. It startled her so much that she jumped backwards, horrified because she'd nearly stepped right on it.
It wasn't until she bent to pick it up that she realized it was merely a leaf. She then noticed that there were a lot of leaves on the ground. Although it was the early part of September, dry conditions were making the flowering crabapple trees drop leaves prematurely.
The leaf in her hand was perfect. The color was a deep, rich red. Maroon? Oxblood? Wine? The color and the texture of it reminded her of a handbag her mother used to carry only on special occasions back when she was a little girl. It felt like something that could have been used to cover one of the esteemed first editions in her father's bookcase. It seemed like something that should be treasured. Catalogued. Showcased.
Lorelai rubbed her thumb over the heart-shaped leaf, enjoying the leather-like feel of it. She looked at the other leaves scattered on the sidewalk, but none of the rest of them had the same delicate shape.
She continued to stand there for a few more minutes, mindlessly fingering the beautiful leaf, her thoughts straying from one random topic to another. The rays from the setting sun reminded her that it was time to head home. She raised the leaf above her head and released it, watching as it fluttered back to the sidewalk.
She took a few steps away, then paused. She fought the impulse, but turned around and went back to the leaf anyway. She hesitated, but soon picked it up. She ran her thumb over it, and then put it in her pocket.
At home, she got it out and looked at it again. She couldn't help but rub it between her fingers because of the incredibly soothing texture. She kept it with her while she watched TV, continuing to use it as worry stone. During a commercial it occurred to her that she'd soon ruin it with her constant touching. After all, it was only a leaf.
She remembered a craft she used to do with Rory, long ago during the nursery school years. Abandoning the sordid TV tales of the trashy wives, she went to the kitchen and found wax paper. She sandwiched the leaf between two pieces of it, then warmed the iron and sealed the layers together. After it cooled, she found her fancy scissors and cut it out. Her heart leaf was now protected, and had an elegant scalloped edge to boot.
The success of her impromptu arts-and-crafts project pleased her. She carried it in her pocket for the rest of the night, and the next day she slipped it into her purse. Knowing it was there made her happy, in some indescribable way. She found it comforting to know that it was close by and available whenever she might need it again.
It was the way of their small town that gossip ebbed and flowed as naturally as water in a stream, finding its path through the shops, between the houses, sometimes seeping under the church's doors, and eventually coming to rest in the town square. Everyone always knew everything about everyone, given enough time for the news to float along to all interested ears. That was how she finally learned that he was going on a date.
It hit her hard, even though they'd been apart for months. Their ending had been so definitive that she had no expectation it could ever be revived. She accepted that they were over. There was no wild hope that someday, somehow, they'd find their way to be together once more, but yet…To hear that her hermit-like ex-fiancé was ready to date again confirmed beyond a doubt that what they'd once had was dead and done.
She sniffled into tissues all night, watching sad movies and counting her regrets.
The next morning she went to work with puffy eyes and the feeling that everyone was watching her. Halfway through the day she had a change of heart, mainly because she'd found her heart. The leaf was still in her purse. She transferred it back into her jacket pocket and fingered it throughout the day when she needed a way to soothe her tangled emotions.
By the time she returned home that evening, she knew what she had to do. She was going to pass the heart on to him. She could imagine how nervous and full of doubt he probably was. Maybe the heart would help to calm him, too. Maybe it could be a symbol that the past was truly the past, and it was time for both of them to move forward.
She found a plain envelope in the desk, and placed the leaf-heart into it. Her plan had been to slip the envelope under the diner's door later and let him find it in the morning when he opened, but she began to have second thoughts. What if Caesar opened, and not Luke? What if he assumed it was trash, or some sort of a game being played by the children of the town? What if he didn't understand the value of it and tossed it away without a glance?
Lorelai pulled the leaf back out and held it against her chest, staring out at nothing while she brooded. Eventually she sighed, recognizing the truth. She was going to have to write a note.
Writing was not her thing. Her mind wasn't orderly enough to write coherently. It darted and swooped, going from one tangent to another, and whatever good ideas she might have took flight again before she could get the words onto the page. But she was willing to try.
She located the pad of paper, crammed into the back of the desk drawer. She clicked the pen a dozen times before she reluctantly began to write.
Luke! Hi! I heard you're going on a date! That's awesome! Best of luck!
"Way too many exclamation points," she scoffed, and crumpled up the paper.
Hi, Luke. I guess things are changing for you, huh? I hope life's good to you, treats you kind. I hope you have everything you dream of. I wish you joy, and happiness –
"Great. Now I'm Dolly Parton," she muttered, and crumpled up that paper, too.
She thought for a long time, sitting motionless in front of the desk. At last she began to write.
I found this amazing leaf a few weeks ago. Maybe it's a magic leaf, maybe it's not, but ever since I found it, it's made me feel better. I'm passing it on to you, with the hope that maybe it will make you feel the same way. You're a wonderful, wonderful man, Luke. I hope that someday you find someone who truly deserves you. I wish you nothing but the best.
She contemplated how to sign it, but made the decision to let it go the way it was. He was a smart guy. Of course he'd know it was from her as soon as he read the message. If nothing else, he'd recognize her handwriting.
The leaf's sense of calm stayed with her, even after she'd walked into town and made her stealth delivery.
Maybe it really was a magic leaf.
Five days later, Lorelai found the same plain envelope mingled in with her mail. Touching it again brought on an eerie, déjà vu sort of feeling. Steeling herself, she pulled open the unsealed flap.
Inside was a small square of tissue paper, and inside of that was an even smaller piece of newsprint, well-worn and beginning to yellow.
Oh, God. The horoscope.
She began to panic, but then told herself to see if anything else was in the envelope. Luckily, he'd also included a note.
I suppose you've heard by now that the date was a bust. I didn't –
As a matter of fact, she hadn't heard that. She'd gone to great lengths, actually, to avoid hearing anything about it at all. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the relief she felt.
I didn't foresee anything different, so it doesn't matter. What does matter is your note, and that unusual leaf. That was an unexpected kindness, Lorelai. In exchange, I thought that maybe you'd like to hold onto the horoscope for a while. I always found that it helped me to cope, just knowing it was around. Also, I'd like the chance to say the same back to you, that I wish the best for you, too.
She turned the note over, but that was all there was.
Her heart was beating so very hard. She breathed in and out a few times, trying to slow it down. Hesitantly, she touched the small piece of newsprint, but instead of peace, she found more worries. She knew how much the horoscope had meant to him, at one time. Now he'd passed it on to her. Was it just to get rid of it? Not that she blamed him, if that was the case. In fact, she was surprised he'd kept it at all. She'd pitched almost everything that had reminded her of him. It was too painful to look around and see the tokens of what had been their daily life together.
Memory is a funny thing, she thought, looking at the horoscope again. She read the cramped words she'd penned on it, all of those years ago. On that first-date night at Sniffy's, when Luke began to talk about it, she had no recollection of it at all. Then he passed it over to her, she listened to Luke's version of their meeting, and it all began to come back.
She could remember the silly girl she was at that time. She recalled how she barged up to the counter, assuming that she'd get her way. She was used to a little flirting getting her anything she wanted. She never anticipated someone like Luke, who seemed completely oblivious to her charms. He was a mystery. He made her nervous. It took her years before she could read him at all.
And yet…Her fingertips smoothed over the scrap of paper again. He'd saved the horoscope, from that very first day.
She shook her head, still not understanding him. At this point, she probably never would.
For a bit she tried to look through the other mail, but she couldn't concentrate enough to register what she was looking at. Finally she put the horoscope back into its tissue paper vault, and then tucked the whole thing into her own wallet.
It felt weird, knowing it was in her possession. Weird…but in a nice way.
One night, a few weeks later, Lorelai was fighting with a drawer in the kitchen, trying to get it open. Something was making it stick. Frustrated, she jiggled it as hard as she could.
Sookie had sent home the fixings needed to make herself a plate of 4-star nachos, including a few sprigs of cilantro to chop and sprinkle on the top. At first Lorelai had been leery of the new herb, but she quickly fell in love with the flavor. She now couldn't imagine downing the nachos without it.
Because Luke was wary of her knife skills, he had added a pair of kitchen shears to her utensils. He'd convinced her to use the shears to cut up ingredients rather than wave around a potentially dangerous knife, and she came to appreciate how easy they were to wield.
Of course, it had now been months since she'd done any real cooking in her kitchen. She had no idea where the shears were, but her best bet was that they were languishing in the stuck drawer. Her stomach growled, knowing that delicious nachos were in the offering, and with more determination than ever, she yanked on the drawer.
It came loose without warning and crashed to the floor. The utensils, including the shears, scattered everywhere.
"Great," Lorelai muttered. "Just great."
She got down on her hands and knees to pick up everything and toss it back into the drawer. She pitched the scissors onto the counter and then tried to put the drawer back into the cabinet, but it wouldn't go. Something was still causing problems. She rested the drawer on the counter too, and then used her hand to feel around inside of the empty space.
"There you are," she said triumphantly, finding something that felt like wadded up paper.
The cause of the problem turned out to be a tea bag, forgotten and woebegone, the protective wrapping around it in tatters from the drawer runners repeatedly catching it.
Lorelai stared at it for several long, sorrowful minutes. She could hear her own breathing in the too-quiet kitchen.
Suddenly she didn't want nachos at all. The idea of eating a whole platter of nachos by herself sounded like the saddest thing in the world. She shoved the ingredients back into the refrigerator and walked out of the kitchen, still clutching the mangled tea bag in her hand.
She wandered around the living room for a while, finally coming to stand in front of the window, still nervously fingering the bag.
It was one thing to use something tangentially associated with Luke, like a kitchen doohickey, and quite another to come across something that was actually his. This packet of Earl Grey was most definitely his, which meant that he'd brought it into the kitchen and put it away, assuming he'd sit at the table and use it someday.
A someday that never came.
Lorelai fought the tears collecting in her eyes, but a few leaked out anyway. Needing something – anything – to do, she walked over to the desk and sat down. She located the pad of paper and the now well-used envelope. She began to write down the words she heard in her head, not hesitating long enough to do the slightest bit of editing.
Look what I found tonight. The drawer underneath the microwave was stuck and when I finally got it loose, I found this trapped there. It made me remember a night when we were set to meet Sookie and Jackson for dinner, and I was hurrying you to get out of the house. It was dark and cold, and you were cranky and tired. You'd already had a too-long day. You wanted to have a cup of tea before we left, something to warm you up and maybe give you some energy, but you couldn't find a tea bag. You kept searching, insisting that you knew there was still one left. All I did was stand there and complain and pout, and gripe that we were going to be late. I wonder now if this is the missing bag, the one that you knew should still be in the cupboard.
I wish…
I wish I would have helped you look that night, Luke. I wish I would have told you we'd cancel the dinner and just stay home. I wish I would have run over to Doose's and bought a new box for you. I wish I would have cherished those nights when we did nothing but cuddle up on the couch.
I'm sorry, Luke. I'm sorry for a whole multitude of things, but right now I'm sorry for that night.
She didn't read over what she'd written or even check for spelling errors. She stuffed it into the envelope along with the poor misused tea packet, then put her coat on and took a walk to town, the long way around. By the time she reached the diner, the lights were out, and there was nobody to witness her making her clandestine delivery. The envelope was bulkier than last time, but after a bit of persuading she was able to force it underneath the door.
She felt better after that, and walked home with her head up and her heart feeling lighter. Once she got there she fixed the family-sized platter of nachos and ate them all.
The envelope was in her mailbox when she got home the next night, surprising her by the rapid turnaround. When she got inside to the light she saw that it was beginning to look bedraggled and scuffed up, most likely from her attempts to force it under the diner's door the night before.
She could feel that there was something besides paper inside. She opened the flap, tilted the envelope, and a bobby pin adorned with a small golden dragonfly rolled out onto her palm.
"Oh, wow!" Lorelai was delighted to see the ornament again, as she had occasionally wondered what had happened to it. She'd purchased it at flea market while she and Sookie had been scouring the area, looking for treasures to decorate the Dragonfly. She turned to Luke's note eagerly.
April found this a few weeks ago, hidden in the back of one of those tiny drawers in the bathroom.
Lorelai had a sudden vision of his bathroom, and of her standing in front of the sink, her hair held back by the dragonfly pin as she washed her face.
I'd been wondering how to get it back to you. Thanks to the coincidence of you finding the teabag, I've now discovered a way.
I don't want you to feel bad about that night, or any of our nights together, Lorelai. Truthfully, I'm not even sure I remember the night you wrote about. Let's face it, your description of me being tired and cranky could fit almost any day. I'm glad you gave me a reason to go out and socialize, even if I never let you know that. It was good for me to get out and see other people, whether I wanted to or not. Those evenings made the ones tucked up on the couch even better.
As for being sorry – I know you are. I know because I am, too.
April's been asking me a ton of questions about you ever since she found your hair thing, but I never know what I should tell her.
Her breathing quickened as her heart rate sped up. She suddenly felt itchy and hot. Out of sorts. She slapped the note and hairpin down on the desk and picked up the rest of the mail. She circled the room, letting each magazine, bill, or coupon insert drop to the floor wherever she happened to be after she glanced at it.
With her blood pressure climbing, she returned to the desk and fished out the pad of notepaper.
What should you tell April about me?
I suggest that you tell her precisely as much as you told me about her.
She breathed in sharply, re-reading her words. Carefully she drew a line through them, although the sentence was still perfectly legible.
Abruptly, she left the desk and marched to the kitchen, where she opened the refrigerator and took out a piece of leftover pizza. She stood in the middle of the room, angrily eating the slice of cold pizza.
It came to her, as she stood there chomping on the congealed cheese, that this was not what she wanted to be doing. She was a grown woman – practically middle-aged, although she was unwilling to admit that fact – and not a teenager who still considered cold pizza a delicacy. Truthfully, she wanted a salad. A salad of spinach, pecans, and ripe slices of pear, drizzled with poppy seed dressing, like the one Luke had served last Christmas. She wanted that salad, and a Parmesan-crusted piece of grilled chicken, a warm piece of bread, and a glass of white wine.
What remained of the piece of pizza was tossed into the trash. She washed the greasy feeling from her fingers and returned to the living room desk. Quickly, she began to write.
Why don't you bring her to the Dragonfly, and let her watch me through one of the front windows?
Before you tell her anything at all, you'll need to clear it with my mother. Emily Gilmore will have the final word about what you can and cannot tell her.
Better yet, why don't you just keep promising to tell her about me, and then conveniently forget what you've promised?
Breathing erratically, she read over each statement. Then she methodically drew a thin line through each, the same as she had the first one.
Underneath, she wrote, Obviously, I'm still not over the hurt from this.
She folded the paper and stuck it in the envelope before she could talk herself out of it. She walked it into town and climbed the few steps to the diner's door, feeling as though her insides were made of nothing but cold pizza.
Luke was still back behind the counter, cleaning up. As if he could sense her there, he looked up and their stunned eyes met.
Lorelai swallowed hard, then tore her guilty gaze away. She shoved the envelope under the door, then turned and marched back to her house, her heart constricting painfully with each step.
The next morning, she thought it looked as if her mailbox lid wasn't completely closed. She went out to check, still in her pajamas, and found out she was right. The dingy envelope was back in her box.
The short message was written on the back of a ticket from his order pad.
It kills me to know I hurt you so much. I wish like everything that I would have handled it differently. Let me say it again, I am so sorry.
She stood there in the frosty air for few minutes longer, expecting that his apology would somehow make her feel better, but it didn't. In fact, she felt every bit as shattered and fragile as she had on that night in May when she gave up and walked away.
Life went on. Work was demanding. Calls were answered. Plans were made. Yale and Hartford were visited as needed. A new layer of protective adhesive was pressed around her brittle heart.
No more messages were exchanged. She'd actually thrown the envelope away, not wanting to tempt herself with the thought of replying yet again.
It was a surprise, then, to find a new one balanced carefully against her front door one November night when she returned home. Her hand shook as she picked it up. She wasn't sure if she was capable of handling any more communications with him.
She took her time taking off her coat. She started a pot of coffee, anything to put off reading it.
Her hands were still shaking as she opened it. It was sealed, this time.
She gasped a little bit when she saw it was letter-length, not just a quickly scribbled note. Anxiously, she began to read.
I hear you're going off with him. Don't do it, Lorelai, please. For your sake, not mine.
I want you to know that this is the fourth attempt I've made at writing this down, so I've given it quite a bit of thought by now. I can picture you as you're reading this, getting more and more infuriated as you read each line…
She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders, trying to knock her immediate anger down a notch or two. Damn it all, why did the man have to know her so well? And if he did indeed know her so well, why the hell had he treated her the way he did?
…so I can only ask that you please read this all the way through, and give it some thought. I promise you, I'm only doing this because I still care about you. I'm sure I always will care. I want you to be happy, Lorelai, I really do, and happiness is never going to come from him.
For a long time, I never said anything about him. Of course, I didn't even know he existed until he finally showed up when Rory was about 16, I think? At that time, I didn't think I had the right to offer my opinion about him, although I really wanted to. We were friends, but I didn't think our friendship would survive if I let loose about what I thought. So, I stayed quiet. Then, when we were together, and he became such a sore topic between us, I knew that anything I said would be regarded by you as just the ranting of a crazy, jealous boyfriend. Which I was, I admit. But past the jealousy, there was something else that I could always see about him that you couldn't.
He doesn't really care about you. I know that you've been friends forever. I know he's got this place in your heart that nothing can touch simply because he's always been there and he's Rory's father. But how do you think he sees you? Do you think he sees you as Rory's mother? No, he doesn't. I'm positive about that. He thinks of you only as this goodtime girl who still makes him laugh and will go off and do any crazy thing he wants. That's not love. That's just…familiarity. He knows that he's got such a hold on you because of your shared past that he can reach out and tug you back whenever he feels like it. He doesn't look down the road and worry about what will happen to you afterwards. He never thinks about Rory. He just does as he damn well pleases, and you go along with it.
Time and time again, I watched as he went skipping off scot-free and you were left with the mess. I watched you deal with your parents' disappointment after he pulled the rug out from under you. I watched you comfort Rory when her father forgot she existed. I watched you struggle with getting your heart bruised again and again. And yet, you were always willing to give him another chance because you kept that one spot reserved for him.
Nothing good ever comes from you being with him. He doesn't take care of you. He doesn't watch out for you. Every time, you're the one who gets hurt.
So please, forget who's telling you this and just hear what I'm saying. Please don't go off with him this time. Give yourself a chance to get a little bit stronger. Think over what I've said. Tell him 'no' for once. Make him stand on his own two feet. Make him work a little harder at getting you. Make him prove that he's ready and willing to put you first. (And Rory a good, solid second, if not in a tie for first.)
If he's not going to take care of you, Lorelai, you've got to take care of yourself.
I'm begging you, for your sake, don't let him swoop in and dazzle you and leave you broken somewhere. Before, at least I was around to help pick up the pieces, but this time you'll be on your own, and I can't stand to even think about that.
I apologize for being so blunt and opinionated, but I'm not sure how much time there is before the big fancy trip, and I had to get these things said to you.
DON'T GO.
Luke
He signed it this time, she thought distractedly, too dazed to recognize the fury building in her. She traced over his signature with her fingertip.
Slowly, she read it over again. And again. And bingo – the anger came to a head.
She stomped around the house in a rage. She scoured every pot and pan and cookie sheet in the kitchen. She tore her bed apart, threw the linens into the washing machine, and remade the bed with sheets tucked so tightly that a dollar bill would have bounced on them, let alone a quarter. She polished the banister until it shone. She did everything she could think of to keep herself from marching straight to the diner and killing Luke.
Hedge clippers, she thought. Dull, rusty ones. The ones I never got to use on Dean.
Exhaustion finally forced her to stop, and as she sat and regrouped, the anger flowed away and was gradually replaced with insight.
For the first time, she thought about that stupid night in Boston. She'd never considered what would have been the outcome if Chris had simply given her shelter that night instead of tequila. Why hadn't he slept on the couch? Why didn't he recognize the distress she was in and treat her as any friend would? Why hadn't he – Damn it all! – taken care of her?
What a difference, Lorelai marveled, if the next morning I could have come home without shame and talked to Luke. What would have happened if…nothing had happened? Would we have been able to stay together? Somehow fix what was wrong?
A renegade thought made her sit straight up. What if the situation had been reversed? What if she'd been with Chris and come crying to Luke about it? What would Luke have done?
She felt her cheeks blaze. She knew very well what Luke would have done, and it certainly wouldn't have been sharing a bed with her after draining a bottle of tequila. Luke would have fed her, and made her feel safe, and would have driven her home in the morning, no matter how much he may have wanted her for himself.
Luke would have taken care of her. Of that there was no doubt.
That was the initial breakthrough, but she still had plenty of ranting to do during the remaining hours of the night. She paced around the entire house several times, calling Luke every nasty name she could think of, and a few that she made up on the spot. She managed to rage-eat a half-gallon of ice cream. At one point she went upstairs and scrubbed out the bathtub.
And somewhere in there, she also found the number of the airline, which she used to cancel her ticket.
It was dark, walking to the center of town, but this time, it wasn't late in the evening, like on previous nights when she'd dropped off her messages to him. It was instead some ridiculously early hour of the morning.
Lorelai had had several days to prepare for her vigil. She had a nice warm stadium blanket and a travel mug full of hot coffee. She settled herself on the top step in front of the door to the diner and leaned back, getting comfortable. She wasn't exactly sure what time it was now, or when to expect him to open up the diner. Didn't matter. She'd wait for as long as it took.
Maybe she drifted off briefly, but it didn't seem like very long at all before she heard activity from within the diner. Before she could stand up, the door was opened behind her, maybe because he could see her silhouette against the blinds.
He looked thunderstruck. He stared at her, his mouth hanging open in shock.
"Hi," she offered.
He shook the shock off his face, but still looked somewhat stunned – and very confused. "Hi," he said back.
Lorelai began to stand up, and Luke, being Luke, immediately gave her his hand to help her. It was the first time he'd touched her in over six months, which caused a wave of dizziness to hit her. She wobbled, and he grabbed her elbow in alarm, pulling her closer to the door and safety.
"Sorry." She smiled weakly at him. "Guess I've been sitting here too long. My butt's taken root."
He frowned at her. "How long have you been out here?"
She shrugged. "Not sure. Not that long. I'm fine," she assured him, waving the blanket and mug around.
He took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked to the side, not directly at her. "So, don't take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?"
"I wanted to let you know that I'm not going."
He looked mystified and a little bit irritated. "You're not going?" he repeated, obviously not comprehending.
"Right. I'm not going." She nodded her head and tried the smile again. "You know. With him. I'm not going."
As soon as he understood, he lost the defensive posture. His shoulders relaxed and the lines of worry on his face became less pronounced. His eyes closed while he took a deep breath. "I'm glad," he said gruffly.
Lorelai nodded again. "I thought that taking your advice meant that I deserved a cup of coffee."
He directed a modified glare at her and pointed wordlessly at her mug.
"I thought we'd verified the superiority of your coffee over mine years ago."
He looked away for a moment, sighing heavily. Then he backed up through the door, holding it open so she could enter.
"Thank you," she said grandly, and swept up towards the counter. She put her mug on the counter, placed the blanket on one stool, and then hopped up on the seat at the end, where she proceeded to stare longingly at the coffeemaker.
"You remember this takes a while, right?" Luke said, measuring coffee into a filter.
"I remember," Lorelai said softly, hearing the sadness in her voice. She wondered if he could, too.
He kept busy with the coffee-making procedure. "Why'd you decide not to go?"
"Because of everything you said in your letter, of course. Everything you said was absolutely true."
"Well…I did have plenty of time to think about it over the years," he muttered, pouring water into the machine.
"And it made me angry, just like you said." She smiled grimly. "You even got that part right."
He nodded slightly but kept his back to her and watched as the coffee begin to brew.
Lorelai cleared her throat. She hadn't been sure about what she should say if it got to this point. He'd allowed her in the diner, he was making coffee for her, and there was no one else around to hear. This might be the only chance she ever got. "I'd never really thought about what happened that night, you know? But after I read your letter, I did. And it made me look at things differently."
"How so?" he asked coolly, trying to stay detached.
"It made me go back and try to remember, for one thing, instead of burying it all away. I could sort of…hear myself, and see myself, the way I was that night. I realized that I was at a level of crazy just below certifiable."
"No different than any other night then," he said, trying to tease, but it fell flat.
"I remember that I was…ready to explode, with all of these things I wanted to say to you. It felt like I was going to die if I didn't say them." She looked down at the counter. "And now I'm not even sure if I got to or not. It's all mixed up, what I was thinking and what I managed to actually say to you."
"Like what?" He asked it grudgingly.
She took a shaky breath. "Like how much I loved you."
He bit his lip and ducked his head. "Yeah. Um, you said that a lot, actually."
"OK, good. That's good," she whispered, mostly to herself. "Then, I'd had this realization, earlier in the evening. I'd had these other relationships, you know – I mean, I was going to marry Max!" She shook her head at her own folly. "But I realized that you were the only man I ever really, truly loved in my whole life. Maybe I wasn't your Ava Gardner, Luke, but you were mine. Did I tell you that?"
He bit his lip a little harder. "No. That didn't come up, that I recall."
"Sorry," she said regretfully, with another sigh. "The other thing that was absolutely driving me was the thought that we'd wasted enough time. We needed to go for our happiness right then. If we waited at all, things were just going to get worse. We needed to take our chance while we could, and figure everything else out later."
"Yeah, that was pretty much the gist of the whole conversation, that it was now or never," he said bitterly.
"And you weren't interested in now."
"I wasn't interested in never, either, Lorelai, but unfortunately those were the only two choices you gave me!"
She whimpered, feeling pain. What he said was true, and it hurt.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"No need for sorry. That's exactly what happened. I said what I said, and you responded the only way you could, and well…here we are."
The coffee had finished brewing, so he filled up one of the big yellow mugs and brought it over to her.
"Thank you." She cradled her hands around it, soaking up the warmth.
"In all of that you just said…There was something in there that convinced you not to go on the trip with him?"
Lorelai had chanced a quick sip of the coffee. She swallowed and swiftly shook her head. "No, other than it made me remember how crazy panicked I was when I got back from Friday night dinner. I mean, I had to have been insane, to think that driving all the way to Boston was a good idea, in the state I was in."
She looked over at him and saw pain of his own skittering across his face.
"Luke, I'm not saying any of this to hurt you. It's just – we haven't talked – we never talked – and I'd like it if we could get to an understanding of some sort."
He nodded stoically and motioned for her to continue.
"Mainly, after I read your letter, I thought about how you said that Chris never took care of me." Even though she'd had another sip of coffee, her throat still felt dry. "And that…That was never more true than the night I drove off to Boston." She cringed, watching as he grimaced. "I know on some level I went there because I knew I needed a friend. I needed somebody to have my back."
Horrified, Luke's eyes opened wide. He turned and staggered over to the back counter, where he hunched over sorrowfully, leaning against it for strength. "That was supposed to be me," he whispered in anguish. "That was supposed to be my job."
"You never got the chance, Luke. I turned and ran, remember?"
"Because you thought I was out!"
"Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking. It's all such a jumble in my head. And I'm not trying to minimize what I did. I'm the one who made the choice to go to Boston. I'm the one who poured the tequila down my throat. I'm the one…" She had to pause to swallow down some tears. "I don't know when that other choice was made, but I'm sure I had input in it. I know all of that rests on my shoulders."
There was a small spell of silence, as they both made the effort to get their emotions under control.
"All I'm saying is…" Lorelai found she couldn't speak much above a whisper. "If Chris had tried, even a little bit, to really be my friend that night…things would be so much different now. Maybe we still would have broken up, but at least it wouldn't have been because I cheated." She couldn't hold back the tears any longer. "I'm so sorry. I know it doesn't make a bit of difference now, but I'm so ashamed, Luke. I'm so sorry, and I'm so angry at myself. I thought I knew who I was and what my values were, but it turns out I didn't have any standards at all. I lost you and I lost me, too, all in one terrible, crazy night." She leaned over to grab some napkins from the dispenser and used them to sop up the tears flowing down her face. "I know you can't forgive me, but I hope you can at least believe how desperately sorry I am."
Suddenly he was standing in front of her, looking miffed. "Did I say that?" he demanded.
She was trying to blow her nose as ladylike as possible. "Say what?"
"That I couldn't forgive you."
She wiped and sniffled. "I don't think you have to say it, Luke. Actions speak, and all."
He snorted and folded his arms again. "You thought I threw you out of my life."
Lorelai considered that. "Well, at least out of your life with April, and since she was your daughter, and you wanted her around…Yeah, I guess that left me out of most of your life."
He swallowed hard. "That's not the guy I thought I was either, you know," he said with disgust. "Fine way to treat the woman I loved, wasn't it? No wonder she ran off to Boston."
"Don't say that!" Lorelai's sharp rebuke echoed through the empty diner. "Don't you dare say that!"
"Why not? It's just as true as the things you've said. I made you feel unwanted, didn't I? Unloved? Who can blame you for finally throwing in the towel and walking away?"
The tears ran down her face again, making her weak. She laid her face against the counter, too tired to sit upright any longer. She didn't know how to stop crying.
She sensed Luke hovering, but he didn't try to comfort her with a touch. Eventually he pulled out some more napkins and laid them by her hand, so that she had fresh ones available when she wanted them.
"Oh, Luke," she sighed. Her voice fluttered as she first pulled in oxygen, and then tried to speak around the tears that just kept coming. "Do you know what's the worst, saddest thing of all? I still love you so much. You're still the one I'm always going to want. And it's all wasted. There's all this love, and nothing I can do with it. But we can't fix this, so it is what it is." She raised her head from the counter, just a tiny bit. "That's right, isn't it? We can't fix this?"
She could tell by the way he didn't answer right away that he agreed with her. She steeled herself to hear him say it. What an idiot she was, even to bring it up.
"Here's the thing, Lorelai," he said seriously, sounding as if he had much more to add.
She almost jumped out of her skin when his hand came down on hers. She sat straight up immediately, staring at him.
He was deliberately not looking at her. His focus was on their hands, and the tentative connection he'd initiated. "I still…of course I still have some…very strong feelings about you, too."
"You do?" she managed to squeak out.
"Those feeling don't just disappear. You just told me that."
She nodded, holding her breath.
"But the thing is…I also…sort of hate you, too."
She sagged again, as the small ray of hope she'd begun to nurture flickered out. "Right, of course. You should." She started to exit her seat, desperately wanting to get away, but he tightened the grip on her hand.
"Hold on. Hear me out. What I've found is that with every day that goes by…" His grip turned more into a caress. "I love you a little bit more, and I hate you a little bit less."
Lorelai shook her head. "Luke, what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I still can't jump. I need the time to work through things. What you need to realize is if I say I need time, that doesn't mean I'm saying no. I'm saying…wait. Wait for me. Please."
She slapped her free hand over her mouth, hoping to stifle the sob she felt building. She was only partially successful. "I can wait," she agreed, tearfully but willingly. "If there's a chance, of course I can wait!"
He sighed again, looking troubled. "Let's not forget that you're angry with me, too. I'm guessing you've got some hate mixed in with all of that Ava Gardner-type of love too, don't you?" He finally met her eyes, watching them for the truth.
She turned her hand slightly, so that her fingers entwined with his. "That part is easy to fix, though."
"It is?" he asked skeptically.
"Oh, yes. It will just take one movie night, or a shopping trip, or a dinner with three place settings…anything to show that I'm not an outcast anymore."
Luke blinked hard a couple of times, trying to accept the gift she'd just offered him. "I'd forgotten what a big heart you have, Lorelai." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. "I don't know if you can believe me, but I promise you I'll make that happen."
"When you're ready for it," she reminded him. "And yes, I believe you."
For the first time, they looked at each other with genuine, heartfelt smiles.
Someone knocked on the door loudly, startling them both.
"I don't have to open," he told her sincerely. "What we're doing here is a lot more important than frying up some eggs for people I could care less about."
Lorelai glanced over her shoulder, at the man waiting impatiently at the door. "You care," she chided him. "Go ahead, open."
"You're sure?"
She nodded. "We've said a lot – especially for us! I think we need to let it settle now, and think about what we said, and maybe have another session like this…Most likely, lots of sessions like this. Ooh, we can be each other's shrinks!"
He looked at her dourly. "We probably could each use one, that's the truth." But then he smiled and it was the most wonderful thing ever, to have him smile at her again.
"Go let in your hordes of hungry workers."
"OK." He patted her hand and she watched him walk around the counter and head to the door.
The people in the diner for early breakfast weren't part of Lorelai's group. She knew most of them, of course, but they weren't the type to come up for a chat or try to figure out why she'd been in the diner before it was open. Several of them looked curiously at her blanket, though.
Lorelai was content to just sit and savor her coffee. She was delighted when Luke came back to top it off for her.
"You want anything else?" he offered.
"No, I'm fine." She also savored being able to give him a smile again. "I'll head home pretty soon. Just soaking up the atmosphere."
He shook his head at her, stifling a grin.
Pretty soon she opened her travel mug and filled it up with what was left from her mug of awesome diner coffee. She snapped the lid back on, put on her coat, hat and mittens, picked up her blanket, and went to stand at the cash register.
Luke came over as soon as he could. "You know the rules," he reminded her, draping his arms over the top of the machine so that it was inoperable. "First time's on the house."
"I'm not trying to pay." She reached into her pocket and handed him a small square of paper. "I didn't have a lot of hopes about what was going to happen between us this morning, but just in case, I came prepared."
His breath seemed to catch as he bent his head to read what she'd written on the new horoscope. It was his, from yesterday. She'd had to look through three different papers before she found one with enough space to write on.
The annoying woman is back. You gave her coffee. Now she'll never go away.
He cleared his throat. "Dear God, I hope not," he muttered fervently. He held her eyes as he reached for his wallet. He made a little ceremony of opening it and stashing the new horoscope in it, right beside the leaf shaped like a heart.
Lorelai started to back away, careful not to trip over her trailing blanket. "OK if I come back tomorrow?"
"Very OK," he said warmly.
"Then…I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Luke," she said, almost shyly.
"Remember to take care of yourself, Lorelai."
She took a deep breath and raised shining eyes to his once more. "Yeah, a really smart guy told me that once. It's pretty good advice."
"Does that mean you might listen to other advice? About decreasing your caffeine consumption or eating a damn salad every once in a while?"
Umm, salad. "Hey, you remember that salad with the pears and pecans? From last Christmas?"
"Yeah," he said slowly, suspicion layering over the one word.
"Can you make me that salad? For tomorrow?"
"You. You want a salad," he stated cynically.
"Yeah. That salad," she said eagerly.
He gave up and shrugged his shoulders. "Sure. If I can find a pear ripe enough, I'll make the salad. I don't know what the joke is, but I'll play along."
"No joke, Luke." She shrugged too. "Occasionally, it's just time for things to change. People change. Relationships change." She smiled at him again. "Food preferences change."
He no longer seemed to be trying to protect himself from some stray jab from her. "Sometimes they change for the better, right?" he suggested hopefully.
"Guess that's what we'll find out."
"So if you want a salad, you'll be in for lunch?"
"Maybe for breakfast, too." She saluted him with her travel mug. "Now that I've got a taste of the good stuff again, I probably won't be able to stay away. Just because I've got a hankering for a salad doesn't mean that everything's changed."
His face slowly warmed as he looked at her. "I sure hope not."
"Me too." She backed away. "OK, I'm really getting out of here, before the nosy, gossipy portion of your breakfast gang show up."
Luke laughed. "Good plan."
She waved and almost skipped out of the door.
On the walk home, Lorelai kept her eyes trained on the pavement. She didn't think she'd need another magical leaf in her life, but maybe Rory would. Or…maybe April would, someday. She needed to start including Luke's daughter in her thoughts, if they were –
Don't get ahead of yourself, she cautioned. But the joy bubbling in her heart made her think caution was unnecessary.
In any case, it wouldn't hurt to have a magic talisman waiting in reserve.
THE END
Author's Chat: Come on, all of you can guess what the inspiration for this story was. I found a leaf on the way to my car after work one day. It was perfectly heart-shaped and a gorgeous color. Unlike Lorelai, I didn't go back and pick it up, much to my regret. It then snowed overnight. My beautiful leaf was no more, which led me to think about the need to seize the moment, and the truth that second chances don't always come around. Naturally, I funneled all of that into helping my favorite couple make amends.
(Any Laid-Back Camp fans around? "My butt's taken root." Hee-hee! One of my favorite lines from the anime.)
I doubt that I find much time to write between now and the holidays, so we'll see where inspiration strikes after the beginning of the year. Hopefully somewhere besides the beginning of Season 7 - I feel like I've been stuck there long enough! Wishing you all peace, and love, and plenty of reading time! DFC