Logan Huntzberger was nervous, and he didn't like it one bit. It was an unusual feeling, one that he didn't experience very often. He was a confident 25 year old who had interviewed kings and presidents and prime ministers. He had traveled all over the world covering controversial stories, investigating corporate scandals and cover-ups. He had been invited to media galas that were covered by every media outlet in the nation.
But there he sat, more nervous than he had ever been in his life.
He wasn't even this nervous when he proposed to her.
Or when they told his parents.
He knew his friends would laugh at him if they could see him now. Dressed in the outfit she had picked out for him that morning, he tugged at the neck of the pale blue dress shirt that he wore under his expensive, tailored blazer. He noticed a fold in his pants that hadn't been there five minutes ago and he carefully smoothed out the wrinkle.
As he glanced at his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time in a minute, a thousand thoughts ran through his head. Most contained expletives that he knew he shouldn't be using—especially considering his current location.
"Where the hell is she?"
"What am I doing here?"
"Why did I agree to this?"
"Where the hell is she?"
His thoughts were interrupted by a continual "tap, tap, tap," and he realized that was his foot apprehensively tapping the hardwood floor. As he willed himself to stop, he began to glance around the waiting room. He noticed a table covered with magazines and newspapers, and he slipped out of his nervousness for a moment, letting pride and confidence take over as he wondered if any of his pieces had made it into those publications. When he walked over there, he instantly felt shamed when he realized that none of his pieces would ever make it into Modern Religion.
He glanced at his watch again, wondering silently again why she was late. They agreed to be there at 11. She was never late—to anything. He didn't know whether to be worried or fighting mad. I bet she's stranding me here alone 'cause she knows how petrified I am right now. She's probably got a hidden camera somewhere video taping this to amuse Finn during our next poker night.
When he went to sit down, he was startled at the picture of the Virgin Mary that seemed to stare at him. He guilty sat down and closed his eyes. Perhaps if he immersed in the darkness of his eyelids, he could forget all about this.
As soon as he laid his head back against the large, oversized red chair, he felt a vibration against his thigh. He reached into his pocket and grabbed the navy and silver cell phone before the gray-headed, much wrinkled secretary pointed to the polite but straight-forward "Please turn off your cell phones" sign. He saw that the number was from her, and he stepped out of the office and into the musty hallway.
"Ace, where the hell are you?"
"Nice, Huntzberger. Cursing in God's house. I think you can go to Hell for that."
"I'm already headed there, Ace. Remember, we're skipping there together. Again I ask where the hell are you?"
"Logan, I am so sorry. Doyle called an impromptu staff meeting. You know how he's been since being named Faculty Advisor. As Editor, I was required to stay."
"So, let me get this straight. My fiancé has basically left me stranded at a church, which she knows I am uncomfortable in, so that she could go to a staff meeting?"
"I'm on my way there. I'm only going to be 30 minutes late. An hour, max."
"I think the whole purpose of a pre-marital meeting with the minister is for both of us to be here, Rory."
"And I promise I'm coming. Look, this is the minister who married my grandparents, who baptized my mother and who I want to marry us. Reverend Mitchell is a nice guy. Well-respected. All you have to do is put on that Huntzberger charm that I know and love and impress him until I get there. Talk about books. I'm sure he likes books. Who doesn't?"
"Rory, I never agreed to meet him on my own. I'm not doing…." He was interrupted by the increasing static on the phone line. He listened for a moment and realized that wasn't static, but Rory faking static in order to get off the phone
"I'm going through a tunnel. Just sit back, relax, and I'll be there in a bit. Tootles."
"Rory, that's not funny. Rory…." He heard the click of the phone, followed by a dial tone.
Panicked, Logan just starred at the cell phone in his hand. He didn't do church. He didn't do meetings with ministers. He began to pace up and down the hall.
He quickly decided he would leave, and they would have to reschedule. Or he could go get some coffee at that diner across the street and wait until she got there. They could walk in together and explain why "they" had been late. That's what he would do. Sure, she would probably be frustrated at him afterwards, but this would be---
"Mr. Huntzberger?"
Logan turned around to face an elderly gentleman. He assumed this was the Reverend Mitchell they had been scheduled to meet with. He wasn't what Logan was expecting. For some reason, images of nuns and collared priests had entered his head when thinking about the meeting, but this man was dressed in a plain pair of slacks and a colorful collared golf shirt. His hefty figure was far from the wiry image Logan had in his mind. He extended his hand for Logan to shake.
"I'm Reverend Mitchell. Where's Ms. Gilmore?"
"Um, she's running a bit late today. Listen, we can come back…."
"Nonsense. She'll be here. Besides, it will give us a chance to know each other better. I've known Ms. Gilmore all of her life. It'll give me a chance to see if you're good enough for her." He laughed as Logan began to panic again.
Noticing the color drained from his face, he responded, "It was just a joke, young man. I promise I won't send you to purgatory for not laughing at my bad jokes. Come on, boy. Let's go into my office."
Logan faintly smiled and began to follow him. He'd never been so uncomfortable in his life. Rory would definitely pay for this.
When he walked into Reverend Mitchell's office, his reporter instincts began to kick in. He began to mentally record the small aesthetical details of the room. The room was significantly different than the cold, dreary waiting area he had been just moments before. The large, domineering chairs were replaced by two fluffy navy couches. Framed pictures crowded the walls. Taking a closer glance, Logan noticed they were all pictures of Reverend Mitchell with couples at their weddings. There had to be 30 or so on the wall. He noticed on of Richard and Emily at their wedding.
Reverend Mitchell noticed Logan's curiosity and walked over to the picture wall.
"120 in all."
Logan released himself from his trance at the wall. "Huh?"
"120 weddings. I've married 240 people to make 120 unions. Course not all of them stayed together. But these here, they were successful. I still see these here from time to time," he said, pointing at the wall.
"Hmm." Logan pondered. He wondered if his and Rory's wedding picture would make it onto the Hall of Wedded Bliss. Terror began to fill his body once again, and he realized at once that he needed to sit down.
Apparently Reverend Mitchell could anticipate Logan's fear. "Son, let's have a seat. Talk a minute. Get to know each other, 'cause apparently I'm supposed to marry you and I don't even know you." He laughed at his own corny joke while Logan sat there in silence.
"Well, I'm not sure what you want me to tell you," Logan said honestly, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm usually not at a loss for conversation. I apologize."
"No apologies are necessary. Let's just start with the basics." He reached behind the couch and grabbed his glasses and a sheet of paper from his desk. "I've learned a bit about you from Ms. Gilmore."
"You have?" Logan asked surprised.
"Oh, yes." He replied. "She and I have been having one-on-one sessions lately. I believe they began right after you two announced your engagement."
Logan didn't know whether he like Rory talking about him to a stranger, especially one who had regular conversations with God and might divulge some of his darkest sins.
"Oh, no worries, Mr. Huntzberger. She only has good things to say about you and your relationship. She told me how….uncomfortable…..you were about coming here, and she just wanted to talk about ways to make your relationship work." He said clearing his throat.
Logan felt the need to explain. Sitting up as straight as he could on the oversized couch, he said, "It's not that I am uncomfortable, its just that I don't do the church thing that often and—"
"No need to explain." Reverend Mitchell looked down at the paper in front of him. "So Ms. Gilmore tells me that you graduated from Yale one year ago with a degree in journalism."
"Yes, sir. I'm in line to take over my father's company, Huntzberger Media someday, so I've been working for the papers all my life."
"And you like this line of work?" Reverend Mitchell quizzed.
"I suppose." Logan sighed. "To be completely honest with you sir, I think I would have liked to done something completely different with my life—other than news. I used to want to be the captain of major vessel."
"What happened to that dream?"
Logan laughed. "Oh, I sunk and stole a few too many yachts for any seaboard company to hand over reigns of any major ships." He was surprisingly becoming more comfortable and honest with the not-so-complete stranger.
"Tell me a bit about your family."
"Well, I can give you the synopsis, which is that they are all crazy with the one exception of my sister Honor and her family. She and her husband and son are the only sane people in my crazy, mixed up realm or relatives."
"Her son? So you're an uncle?"
"I am. I love her son. Rory and I sometimes baby-sit for them when they need a night on the town. He just love loves Rory. I think I might have to worry about him going after her one day."
"So do you and Ms. Gilmore plan on having a family someday? Have you discussed future plans?"
Here was where the interrogation began, Logan thought.
"Um, I guess we talk about it. I mean, you've met Rory. You know she has her lists and plans, and who am I to second-guess the Rory Gilmore Pro/Con list and strategic planning session."
Logan smiled at the memory. He'd kept the coffee pot brewing as they'd stayed up till 4 in the morning talking and hashing out the details. They were still in the pre-engagement phase at the time, and Rory felt like she had to pin him down on the important issues before he got caught up in the romantic whirlwind of a proposal that he had planned. He may have grown up, but he was still the same Logan who had trouble with committing himself to anything long term—unless it was one of the two things he loved with all his heart. Sailing and Rory Gilmore.
"What were the results of this session?"
"We both want a large family. We both only have one sibling apiece, and while I was close to my sister, the age difference between Rory's and Gigi—that's her sister—was too great for them to build a substantial relationship. When we have children, we want them to never feel alone or without a playmate."
"And how do the potential grandparents feel about your plans to enlarge the family tree?"
He groaned for a moment. "Well, Lorelai has finally come around. I think she might actually like me now. I don't think Rory would have agreed to marry me if she didn't. She includes me in her and Rory's bits. Takes me awhile to catch on. I'm actually afraid if we have a little girl that I will be completely outnumbered and worthless to our union. Those Gilmore mother-daughter bonds are fighting." Even if he was outnumbered, Logan was excited at the thought of a blond Rory joining their family.
"What do your parent's think? They are happy about the wedding, correct?"
"Happy isn't exactly the word I would use. I think defeated would be a better description." He paused for a moment. "My dad still doesn't think Rory 'has it.' Not as a journalist or not as a society wife." He rubbed his temples in added frustration just thinking about his father. "Even though she was selected the editor of one of the greatest college newspapers in the country, he still doesn't think she is worthy. Our relationship is still strained after the Disastrous Summer of 2005."
"Disaster….what? Ms. Gilmore hasn't told me about that."
"I'll be happy to provide those details. My father thought once again he could control my life, and he did so by deliberately breaking Rory's heart at an internship he provided for her. She was doing a fantastic job, but he lied to her and told her she wasn't going to cut it in the newspaper world. He saw how much I cared for her and set the whole thing up in order to break her confidence and be molded to a trophy wife. It destroyed her confidence and almost ruined her relationship with her family." He paused, letting the anger subside within him and letting pride take over. "But now look at her. Did she tell you she's graduating at the top of her class next month? And she already has a job at a Huntzberger Media publication. But she got the job without telling me and by using a pseudonym. She didn't want anyone to accuse her of nepotism."
Reverend Mitchell chuckled. "That sounds like the Ms. Gilmore I know. When she was little, her grandmother used to bring in these marvelous pictures of her and brag on their little darling even though they never saw her that much. How is your relationship with Richard and Emily?"
"Great, just great. Emily is having the best time planning the wedding. She and my mother bonded over invitations and silverware. My mom isn't thrilled about our getting married, but it gives her an excuse to plan a wedding and drown her sorrows in a bottle of the vineyard's best, so she's doing just fine. Pity and a party—my mother's two favorite words. She's gotten a lot of that in the past few months."
"Ms. Gilmore told me your grandfather passed. I am very sorry for your loss."
"Your condolences are appreciated." Logan was used to giving this standard response. His relationship with his grandfather had become increasingly strained after announcing his relationship with Rory three years ago.
"So, Mr. Huntzberger…"
"Please, Reverend Mitchell, call me Logan. If you want me to be honest, this whole Ms. Gilmore/Mr. Huntzberger thing is a bit too formal for the tell-all session this is turning into."
"Ok." Reverend Mitchell cleared his through and began again. "So, Logan, since Rory isn't with us right now, tell me why you chose her to journey through life with?"
Now time for the tough questions, Logan thought. And what a corny way to phrase that statement. The journalist in Logan cringed.
"You mean why do I want to marry her?"
"Sort of. Tell me why you chose her."
Logan thought about this for a moment. He wanted to choose his words carefully. Why did he want to marry her? He knew he loved her, but couldn't he continue on loving her without putting a ring on their left hands? Did they really have to be married to continue being with each other?
He could run all of these questions through his mind, but he could pinpoint the day he knew he had to marry Rory Gilmore.
They were celebrating their "official" one year anniversary. It had been one year since she had walked into his dorm and gave him her "ultimatum." He had planned an elaborate evening for the two of them…a weekend getaway to New York City, a carriage ride in Central Park, dinner for two at an exclusive restaurant, a suite at The Plaza—liked he'd always promised her--and a tickets to a few off-Broadway shows. He knew she would laugh if he got tickets to anything that had a Disney character as the lead or a sappy romance.
But when they day came for them to leave, Rory was sick. Her throat was swollen and her voice was low and scratchy. He'd suggested they just postponed the trip, but she had insisted on going, saying that since she didn't have a fever, she must not really be sick.
"I just need rest," she insisted. It was her first week as the editor, so she claimed that exhaustion was the culprit for her sickness. "I promise I'll be good and sleep on the way up there."
As they drove the hour and a half drive from New Haven to Hartford, she'd demanded that he drive his convertible with the top down. He had said no, saying that the night wind would only make her sicker, but she wouldn't hear of it.
"The stars will make me better," she debated. "It worked for Mandy Moore during her sappy love fest with Shane West. We can make this our Drive to Remember."
So he had reluctantly agreed. About 20 minutes into their drive, however, she had fallen asleep in the passenger seat. Wrapped in her favorite blue Yale blanket, she had looked at complete peace sleeping beside him. He knew at that moment that he didn't want to be without her. But love her? He couldn't admit it to himself. He knew he felt something for her that he had never felt for anyone else. But that could just be the longevity of their relationship. He'd never been with a girl as long as he'd been with Rory. He'd never been in a relationship before her. Logan summed up his feelings as feeling pity and concern for someone he cared so much about, but definitely not love.
Although he had definite reservations about what he was feeling in the car ride up, Logan was forced to admit them once he and Rory arrived at The Plaza. Rory was so fatigued when they entered the suite that the first thing she did was collapse into the king-sized bed. Logan insisted on canceling dinner when he felt her forehead and realized she was running a fever. Even though she protested, he stood his ground and made her get into bed, promising to make it up to her later. He called the concierge and gave him a list of medicine and junk food that might make her feel better. But she insisted on him making her coffee.
"I don't want that nasty muddy concoction that hotels like to parade around as coffee, Logan. It's gross. Are you trying to make me sicker?"
"But it's Plaza coffee, Ace. We ain't talking no regular cup of Joe, missy. It's quality."
"Logan, please…" she pouted. "I'm sick remember. It will make my throat feel better." She proceeded to extend to him her best puppy dog, pitiful look.
She had a way with him, so he made the coffee. And when he walked her coffee back into the bedroom, she laid there; snuggled in the thick, snowy sheets of The Plaza, sound asleep. He sat her coffee on the nightstand in case she woke up and kicked off his shoes. He climbed into bed with her, pushing his arm underneath her shoulders, so he could rub his hands against her arms to warm up her cold-to-the touch skin.
When he slowly began to run his hands back and forth from her shoulders to the ends of her elbows, she groggily opened her eyes and slurred, "Thanks, Logan. I'm sorry you have to see me like this."
He kissed her warm forehead and finally felt the urge to verbalize the feelings he had been feeling for quite sometime. He was ready to admit his true feelings for her. Sure, she wasn't exactly conscious at the moment, but he felt brave enough to say how he felt. And when a Huntzberger makes his mind up about something, he follows through.
"Shhh, go back to sleep. I love you, Rory." He whispered.
The next morning, Rory was convinced she had been dreaming. He could tell she was wondering if she heard correctly as they sat in their hotel room eating the pancakes he had ordered from room service. She didn't want to question him about it because of his fear of commitment, but eventually she had to confront him about it. When he just smiled his devilish grin at her questioning, she got up and flung her arms around him. She reciprocated the message, and they spent the day celebrating not only their anniversary but their new devotion to each other.
"To answer your question, Reverend Mitchell, I knew I wanted to marry her when I realized how much I wanted to spend the rest of my life taking care of her. And only her. And our family. No one else really matters to me except for her. No matter what she asks me to do, I will be willing to do it, regardless of the task. You may be able to tell that I didn't really feel comfortable here today."
"Yes, I noticed." Reverend Mitchell answered.
"But I came because it was important to her. And I love her enough to try and give her everything. I'm not saying that we don't fight. We do. We have our debates and our arguments over trivial things and differences. But it's not about what we say, but how we feel. And I love her. Simple as that."
"When did you ask Rory to marry you?"
"She hasn't told you the story?"
"No, she actually wanted me to hear it from your point of view first."
Leave it to Rory to have Logan tell the story.
"Rory was expecting a big, elaborate proposal. No matter what grand display of affection I could dream up, she anticipated it. So, no grand trips to London, no overnight stays in Paris. I eliminated all of that. Besides, that's too cliché."
"Of course," Reverend Mitchell replied knowingly sarcastic.
"So over Christmas, I took her to all of 'our' spots, places we had special moments. The Plaza, a little restaurant in Italy, the yacht. And at each place she expected a proposal. But she didn't get one. The day before winter break ended, I could tell she was getting restless. We had already talked about getting married after her graduation, and I was going to have to propose during Christmas break if she was going to plan a wedding officially in six months. She was hurt and upset when we stopped by the Yale Daily for her to run in and grab some notes. I told her to meet me at the coffee kiosk right outside when she was done and I would have some coffee waiting there for her. When she met me there—at the same kiosk where we met three years ago, I was waiting for her with flowers and a coffee cup made especially for her that was engraved with her soon-to-be married initials. LGH. Inside the coffee cup was her engagement ring."
"Perfectly thought out proposal if I do say so myself. And her reaction?"
"She was stunned by the simplicity of it. But our relationship has never been too complex. I'm not going to lie; I did not fall for her at first sight. In fact, I couldn't even remember her name the second time we met. The important thing is our love isn't a superficial love. It is a combining of two kindred spirits." Logan was shocked by his own words. He would have never considered himself as the poster boy for marriage, but slowly he was becoming one.
Reverend Mitchell looked hard at Logan for a moment, as if to examine the sincerity of his message. Without words, he stepped over to his desk and opened one of his side drawers. He moved in silence back to the couch and opened the small black booklet he had retrieved.
"When?"
"When what?" Logan was thoroughly confused.
"When is the wedding? I have to make sure I can clear my calendar for that date. I've got to make sure I am in attendance at the Gilmore-Huntzberger wedding."
"So you'll marry us? You mean I didn't make too bad of an impression without Rory here?" Logan had done it all now. He'd managed to impress presidents, kings, queens, and now even a Man of God.
"Of course. I wanted to meet with you to judge the earnestness of your union. You do have quite the reputation, Mr. Huntzberger. I wanted to make sure that Ms. Gilmore—I mean, Rory, had someone who was going to be dedicated to her and be good enough for her. I've known her forever, and I couldn't agree to marry you two until you and I had some one-on-one face time. I want the two of you to be on my wall as one of the successful ones."
"What—are you telling me that Rory knew about this meeting all along? That she wasn't really late?" That little sneak had actually learned something from him over the years.
Reverend Mitchell laughed. "I believe her exact words were, 'The only way I can convince him to come is by lying. But tell the Lord to not send me to Hell for that.'" He looked down at the calendar once again. "So when is the wedding date?"
"It's the weekend after Yale graduation. First weekend in June."
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
"I am so sorry I am late. Hi, Reverend Mitchell." Rory said as she entered the room trying her best to look frazzled and rushed. "The staff meeting just took longer than expected." She walked over to Logan. "I appreciate you staying." She flashed him a grin. "Let's get started!"
She joined him on the couch, and he draped his arms around her shoulders. As Reverend Mitchell moved to his desk to grab more paperwork, Logan leaned into her neck and whispered a soft message low and deep into her ear. "Ace, you've got some major kissing up to do later."