Planting Hope

Chapter One – Digging to China

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Thank you so much Jewels12 for taking the time to beta this story. As always, your comments and suggestions are so helpful. It's such a treat to work with you. I feel like the luckiest author alive!

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Lorelai visualized her way around the Dragonfly, arranging the finishing touches that made the inn more homelike and gave it its personality. All these months of making decisions and purchases could now be put together in an attractive, artistic package. She subconsciously reached back into the dusty files of her mind, and accessed the years upon years of tutelage under Emily Gilmore. Anyone who knew the Gilmores' discriminating eye had to admit that Emily's knack for making her surroundings beautiful was a gift that she inherited from her mother, and one that she passed down straight to Lorelai.

Lorelai's life in the manor gave her the background to choose furnishings tastefully, and to use her instincts to put things together artistically. She loved accessorizing the rooms, making them sparkle with personality. It was her reward for enduring countless hours of mind-numbing activities that she had an aptitude, but no true passion for. Had it not been for the underlying desire to be her own boss, and to be in charge of her own destiny, she'd leave the financial aspect of running the inn completely to someone else.

To Lorelai, this wasn't work; this was second nature. Instinctively tossing pillows here, and curios there, Lorelai took in every detail of her new establishment. She balanced vases, pictures, clocks, and figurines by visual weight, shape, and color. She used only the creative part of her mind, allowing the critical side to rest. Lorelai smiled to herself, enjoying a few moments of quiet in her inn.

Her friends would all share her joy tomorrow as they dined and celebrated at the inn's test run. These friends were more like family to her now. They embraced her wholeheartedly. Although each and every townie had his own quirks, she loved them all, and they loved her.

This was it. The test run didn't need to be perfect, but she really wanted it to run smoothly, and with the support of her friends, she believed that it wouldn't be any other way. Lorelai was the town's shining gem, their beacon of sunshine, and they would be there, rooting for her, as they had been from day one.

She hummed cheerfully as she tied back the curtains in the library with large tasseled loops procured from a fabric manufacturer that specialized in high-end antique reproductions. It was just one of many, many details that she had to decide upon to make this inn the unique establishment that she had envisioned for twenty years.

It was way after five, and most of her employees were long gone. The tradesmen and groundskeepers who were still milling about would be packing up soon. Even Sookie, who had worked indefatigably in the kitchen, had to call it quits and go home, before she collapsed in an exhausted heap. Tomorrow would be a long day, and the kitchen staff, especially, would need all of their strength.

Stepping back to admire the newly tied drapes, she caught a glimpse of Luke's rugged, green truck. Instantly, it sent her pulse racing and her heart leaping in her chest. This phenomenon had been happening all too often lately as she and Luke tiptoed around each other, testing the waters of their attraction for one another.

Ever since he had invited her to his sister's wedding, there was a tangible difference in the energy between them. They were shy and awkward around each other now, but it was a feeling of excited anticipation, not one of dread. Nothing had been explicitly stated, yet the implication was there, in every glance, half-smile, and overly cautious gesture.

She had found out a few days ago that Luke would be attending the test run. It surprised her how nervous and excited she was about the news. She knew he wasn't seeing anyone, but her stomach still tensed when Michel informed her that Luke had responded. She waited with bated breath as he looked up Luke's confirmation, and said that yes, Luke was indeed arriving solo. Lorelai breathed a sigh of relief, even though there was no reason to believe he wouldn't be coming alone.

Of all the guests in attendance, she valued his opinion the most, even more than that of her own parents, who were hiding their marital separation from their own daughter. And in a stubborn refusal to include her in their lives, they opted to continue the charade of marital bliss, rather than to admit they were having problems. She couldn't rely on their approval anyway, since they have never approved of anything she had done since she peed on the test strip and it turned pink, twenty years ago. But Luke had been there for her, offering reassurance and support ever since the day she went to him revealing that she was ready to venture, like he did, into self-employment.

Peering though the window, she didn't see Luke, so she exited through the front door and scoped the grounds from the porch. She found him to her right, with a pointed shovel in one hand, pacing at a diagonal from the corner of the inn. He was counting his broad footsteps aloud. She admired his movements for several minutes before saying anything, trying to make sense of the scene.

When he got to where he apparently needed to be, he turned and surveyed the land. Seemingly satisfied with his location, he stopped, stepped back two steps and plunged the shovel into the newly manicured sod, leaving it quivering in the ground. He retreated several feet and took in the scene before him. As if visualizing a movie set, he circled the shovel, looking high above it, tilting his head to one side then to the other. After what seemed like several long minutes, he nodded in satisfaction, took his leather work gloves from his back pocket, and pulled them on. He stepped on the head of the shovel and pried up a clump of dirt, discarding it to the side. Too mesmerized by his efficient movements to react, Lorelai watched him repeat this step several times, until he had a small hole dug, and an equal and opposite mound of soil near his feet.

Climbing down the stairs with a bemused look on her face, she said, "So, you have something against my lawn?"

"Hey," he replied, glancing up at her without breaking his rhythm.

"Hay, would be okay. But this is grass. I gotta tell you, you're freaking me out here, digging to China. It took a long time to get it this green and we're doing the test run tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I have to get this done before it gets dark."

"Okay, I'll take the bait. Get what done?" she asked, trying not to lose her patience.

"You need a tree here."

"We have plenty of trees on the property, a plethora of trees, a panoply of trees."

"You do," he said, stopping to remove his hat, wipe his forehead with the sleeve of his flannel, then replace it. "But you don't have this tree."

"What tree?"

"This one," he gestured with a jut of his chin to the back of his truck. Her eyes followed his and landed on a burlap-covered mound that filled the truck bed.

"What is it, a potato tree?" she quipped, tiptoeing across the lawn in her heels.

He rolled his eyes and resumed digging a few more shovels-full. He stopped shoveling, put the tool down, and walked over to the truck while removing his gloves. He set them on the tailgate before revealing the green foliage hidden under the burlap.

"A maple tree. It's beautiful!" Lorelai's eyes lit up as she gazed upon the glossy pointed leaves. "Acer saccharum?" she read from the nursery card that dangled on a twig.

"It's a sugar maple," he said.

"Oh, oh, can I put a tap on it and collect my own sap? I can't believe you brought me my own maple syrup factory!" she said, bouncing with her hands clasped in front of her chest.

"You might get a little hungry waiting around for it to produce enough sap, or spile, as they call it in the sugar houses."

"Oh? How long would I have to wait?" she asked. "And 'spile'? Dirty!"

He ignored her latter comment and chose to answer the former. "About forty years. But after that you can tap it ever year for a hundred years without harming it."

"That's a long time."

"Our grandkids could harvest it, I guess," he said.

"Our grandkids?" she blurted before thinking.

"I mean…I didn't mean, you know our grandkids," he stammered, pointing back and forth between himself and Lorelai.

"I know what you mean," she said feeling the blood rise to the surface of her cheeks.

"Uh, good." He nodded, focusing intently on unrolling his sleeves.

"This is so awesome, and so sweet. Literally," she said, still trying to wrap her head around the grandkid comment.

"Sweet all right, but it needs to get into the ground soon," he said as he unbuttoned his shirt. Lorelai tried not to stare as he separated the fabric at his chest and slipped it off his shoulders, revealing a snug, white t-shirt tucked neatly into his jeans.

He draped the flannel carelessly over the side of the truck bed before yanking the tree to the edge of the tailgate, then gently pivoting it to the ground. Lorelai stepped out of his way, unable to keep her eyes from lingering on the muscles that rippled across his back and along his arms. Noticing that he was wearing the belt that she picked out for him, she made a conscious effort to avert her eyes from the taught muscles below it.

"Um, so why do I need this tree?" she asked.

"It works for you."

Like those jeans are working for me, she thought. "Yeah. I have a lot of employees that work for me, too."

"I mean, it works for the inn. All summer it will keep the sun off, reducing cooling costs. And in the winter, it looses its leaves, allowing the sun in, lowering your heating costs. That's why we need to plant it right here. Maximum sun exposure in winter and minimum sun exposure in summer," he said, punctuating his words with digs and thrusts.

"You've really thought a lot about this, haven't you?" she said appreciatively.

"Not much, just common sense."

"So why are you planting it so far away from the building, then? It won't shade much from way over here."

"This tree is only a few years old. It could grow 80 feet tall and live for 400 years, although that's pretty rare," he informed her.

"Wow, 400 years, that's like the Methuselah of trees! I can't even imagine what the inn will be like then."

"Yeah, kind of strange when you think about it. We won't be here, but the tree will. So, right now, we're actually rotting the teeth right out of the mouths of future generations," he groused.

"Where's a flying DeLorean when we need one?"

Luke smirked as he continued digging.

"Can I help? I'd like to make a difference."

"I don't think so. You'll ruin your fancy shoes."

"Come on Luke, please? Please? I want to tell the kids that I helped you plant this tree," she said, while holding her hand out, requesting the shovel.

He found it almost impossible to say no to her when she looked at him with those big, doleful, blue eyes. "Okay, but be careful; those aren't the right shoes to be digging holes in," he said as he removed his gloves and handed them to her.

She slipped them easily over her delicate hands, and reveled in their warmth, before taking the shovel with a smile, and a jaunty wiggle of her hips. Spearing it into the ground, she stepped on the shovelhead with her right foot, and it hardly sank an inch. "Oh, wow! Harder than it looks," she said with a surprised smile.

"Don't hurt yourself. I don't want you blaming me for your injuries."

"I won't blame you, but that doesn't mean it's not your fault," she teased him. "Let me try again." She tugged the shovel out of the ground, speared it in with more force, and stepped on it again. It sunk in slightly deeper this time.

"Here, let me hold it steady and you step on it with both feet," Luke said. Moving directly in front of her he planted his feet on either side of the hole and he held onto the handle firmly with both hands, to make sure she wouldn't tip over.

"Are you sure you've got it?" she asked biting her bottom lip.

"I got it."

"Don't let me fall."

"Lorelai, I would never let you fall," he said reassuringly, looking her directly in the eyes.

She looked at him, so close and so steady. She knew he was right. He'd never let her fall. "Okay." She grabbed the handle and stepped up with both feet, putting all her weight on the shovel, and all her trust in Luke. The blade slid down several inches and stopped abruptly. "Whoa!" she gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. She stepped off carefully as he held the handle with one hand and her elbow with the other.

"I've got you. That was good. Now, go ahead and pry up the dirt," he encouraged.

She pushed the handle down and succeeded in lifting about a half cup of soil, which she deposited on the mound next to the hole.

"Do you want to try again?" he asked.

She handed him the shovel and backed several steps away from him. "Nope."

"Had enough already?"

"Yep. It's not as much fun as it looks."

"Says the lady with the attention span of a gnat."

"Hey, I don't have a short attention span for everything," she said exposing a slightly defensive nerve.

"Oh, so what do you have a long attention span for?" he challenged her.

"Well," she said, trying to think of something that wasn't dirty, "I can watch the same movie dozens of times and not get bored. You can't do that."

"You got me there. I don't get that multiple-watching concept at all. A movie should be watched from beginning to end. No pausing, no rewinding, and no talking." He looked at her sternly. "Maybe discuss it for a few minutes afterward. Then it should be forgotten. Move on. Next time, new movie."

She shook her head in feigned sorrow. "You have so much to learn, Grasshopper."

"Maybe so. But, what are you going to tell the kids, then?"

"You mean about the tree?"

"Yeah, about the tree."

"I'm going to tell them that I helped," she said indignantly.

Luke shook his head, trying to stifle a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"What? I did help."

"I didn't say anything. I'm glad you helped. Thank you."

"What?" She eyed him suspiciously. "You better not tell them anything."

"What would I say?"

"I don't know, that I didn't help much."

"How about we tell them that you kept me company?"

"That's helping, right?"

"Yes. It's a big help." More than you know, he thought, taking in her beauty through the corner of his eye.

She looked at him doubtfully, and then her face lit up. "Oh, I know how to really help!" She thrust the gloves at him and called over her shoulder, while bounding up the steps, "I'll be right back!"

He put the gloves back on and watched her run away. When she had disappeared into the inn, he resumed his work. She returned a few minutes later with three beers, two in one hand and one in the other.

"Wow, you're really going to town there! How deep do you have to go?"

"It only needs to be as deep as the root ball, but a lot wider," he said, using the shovel to judge the depth of the hole.

Lorelai handed him a beer. "How do you know all this stuff?" she asked, clearly impressed.

"Thanks," he said, before taking a long, masculine draw. "When your father owns a hardware store, you tend to pick up a few things. I worked there as a teenager, every day after school, and on the weekends."

"But that was hardware, this is gardening."

"Gardening is an extension of hardware. I grew up in a house with a garden."

"Huh." She pondered his words.

"Huh, what?"

"I don't know. I guess I knew you grew up in a house, but I hadn't really pictured you living with a white picket fence and all. It's hard to imagine you living anywhere other than above the diner."

"Well, we had a house. And, we even had a sugar maple in the backyard."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it was beautiful. Every fall it would be a blaze of colors. The leaves would change at different times, so the entire spectrum of autumn colors, from green to red, would show on our tree at the same time. My mother loved that tree. My dad moved her bed over to the window, just so she could look out at it when she was sick. Sometimes she'd watch us play all day if she didn't feel well enough to come outside."

Lorelai wasn't sure if she saw a hint of sadness in his eyes, or whether it was a futile grasp at the fading memory of a mother he lost too soon.

Luke lowered his face, and swallowed slowly. He was taken completely off-guard by the flood of raw emotions that washed over him, threatening to expose his feelings in front of Lorelai. Sensing that he needed a moment to collect himself, Lorelai changed the course of the conversation slightly. "Did you climb it?"

He smiled at the memory, and exhaled deeply. "Yeah, that was the best part about it. The trunk branched out pretty low, so we were able to scamper up. My dad used to call us his little monkeys. We had the best tree house on the block, which is another advantage of your father having a hardware store."

"Cool! Did you have a swing?"

"We did. A tire swing. We had more fun in that tree than you can imagine."

"You're probably right, I can't imagine. I wasn't allowed to play in trees. But I'm going to let my kids play all they want. Rory wasn't much of a climber, but if she wanted to, I would have let her."

"I know you would have," he said thoughtfully. "The house we lived in and the tree are still there, you know."

"They are?"

"They're on Hickory Lane, but I don't own the house anymore. I sold it to a family. They had children and needed a house. I had no use for such a big place, being alone and all. Plus, it didn't feel right to be there without, you know, my folks." He cleared his throat. "I can take you to see it sometime, I mean, so you can see what your tree might look like one day."

Lorelai smiled at his invitation, and said sincerely, "I'd really love that." The thought of Luke taking her somewhere, anywhere, especially to a place that was so personal to him, was extremely appealing to her. She began to wonder when they'd go. If he'd pick her up in his truck or if they'd walk together. She wondered whether they should they wait for the fall to see all the colors, or if they should go soon, while the tree was lush with green fluttering leaves, shimmering at even the slightest hint of a breeze.

Luke went back to work, widening the hole until he was satisfied with its diameter. Pausing to catch his breath, he drank the rest of his beer heartily. He set the empty bottle on his tailgate, then pulled a box cutter from his pocket. Exposing the blade, he prepared the tree for planting by removing the twine from around the burlap. He dragged the tree over to its final planting place and loosened up the root ball by gently rolling the tree back and forth. Lorelai remained safely near the truck, leaning against the tailgate, keeping her shoes clean and her eyes glued on Luke.

"Ok, this is where it's going to be," he stated. "Does this work for you?"

"It's beautiful, Luke. I love it," she said, looking directly into his eyes. He looked away modestly, and turned toward her gift.

"See this branch?" He pointed to a long, horizontal branch jutting out away from the inn. "That's where the swing will go. If we turn the tree this way," he nudged the tree a bit to position it perfectly, "the kids won't interfere with anyone who happens to be on the walkway."

"Will it be a tire swing?"

"Well, probably not. Tires are pretty heavy, and they can get the kids and their clothes dirty. I know you'd hate that."

"I would." She nodded. "So, what kind of swing?"

"In about four years or so, it will be big enough for me to make a plain wooden seat. I was thinking I'd use a single rope and a strong board with two holes in it. It could match the design of the porch railings, and I'd paint it white. They should be able to play on it and have a lot of fun."

"So you're going to make the swing?" She looked at him hopefully.

His neck and face began to flush. He tried to convince himself that it was from the physical exertion. "Well, yeah. Um, if you want me to."

"Yeah, I want you to," she said quietly, noticing the golden flecks in his blue irises before timidly averting her eyes.

She imagined the children laughing and playing. A little girl of three or four was spinning on the swing, her head back and her long curly hair covering her face. Her older brother was pushing her feet gently each time they passed him, as the rope unwound.

Lorelai awoke from her reverie as she sensed Luke moving closer and her breath caught as he closed the space between them. Suddenly, his shoulder was brushing against hers as he leaned into the bed of his truck. Acutely aware of his masculine scent of fresh sweat and antiperspirant, she inhaled deeply, wanting more of it.

"Here, let me grab these bags," he said, as a way of explaining his close proximity. He gripped the first sealed plastic bag of topsoil and dragged it to the end of the open tailgate, where Lorelai was leaning. With a heave, he hoisted it over to the new tree and plopped it down.

When he returned to the truck to retrieve the second bag, Lorelai was expecting him. She contemplated moving out of his way, but found herself riveted to where she stood. Bracing herself for the gentle brush of his arm against hers, she held her breath. And although she expected his touch, she didn't anticipate the rush of nerves, or the pounding of her heart.

For several beats, they remained motionless, all too aware of each other's presence. She heard his deep breathing, smelled his woodsy aroma, and felt the heat radiating off of his body when he paused, with his bare arm leaning against hers. He smelled the hint of perfume that remained after her long workday, mixed with her floral shampoo, conditioner, and the myriad of other products that women use. Hers intermingled seamlessly to emit a sensuous, feminine smell that Luke found so irresistible, he almost forgot why he was standing so close to her. When he moved away with the heavy bag in his arms, Lorelai felt a cool chill sweep over the void that his absence left on her skin.

He wordlessly sliced open a bag of potting soil and poured it around the base of the tree. Then he picked up the shovel again and back-filled the trench. After filling it about halfway, he uncoiled the hose that lay behind the porch trellis and turned on the spigot. Filling the hole with water, he allowed the root ball and the surrounding soil to absorb it. They both watched as the water spilled onto the dirt, causing organic matter to float to the surface in slow, lazy circles. He threw the hose aside, at the base of some bushes, and used the surrounding dirt to finish back-filling, then picked up the hose again and allowed the water to soak deeply into the roots.

Lorelai turned off the water for him and coiled up the hose as he opened the bag of mulch. He spread it over the entire planting site, then smoothed it over with his shovel, making a neat mound ringing the trunk of the Dragonfly's newest resident. He rolled up the plastic, retaining what was left in the bag and tossed it in the back of his truck. When he was satisfied that his job was finished, he paused and watched Lorelai tiptoe out of the flower bed and back over to the truck.

She lifted the unopened beer for him and handed it to him before picking up her own. He nodded a thank you and opened it with a slight hissing sound. They clinked beers as she said softly, "Thank you. It's perfect."

He nodded and shoved his hand in his pocket. She slid her arm affectionately through the crook of his elbow, and leaned her head on his shoulder while they admired the tree. They relaxed for a few minutes in quiet camaraderie, enjoying the warmth they shared.

"You're dirty," she said quietly.

"Normally I'd have to say something slightly inappropriate to be called dirty. But I haven't even said a word," he teased her, before taking another drink.

"Yeah, but literally. You're filthy. Look at yourself."

"I guess I'd better go home. You know, to clean up." He started brushing dirt off the front of his jeans.

"Yeah, I guess so," she reluctantly agreed. "Um, unless…" She looked at him uncertainly. "You want to clean up here? That way you could stay a while. Hang out. We can sit on the porch and watch our tree sway in the breeze."

"Hanging out sounds nice." He nodded between swigs.

She tried to keep her smile from becoming too enthusiastic. "You're coming tomorrow? Right?" she asked.

"Of course."

"Alone?"

"Yes, alone," he answered, more sharply than he intended to.

"Well, I don't know." She shrugged.

"Yes, you do know," he said firmly, holding her gaze.

He was right. She knew, and now he was calling her on it. She had known for a while now. The energy between them had changed. The difference was qualitative and tangible. She wasn't sure how to describe it, but she knew he would be arriving alone. And she was relieved and excited at the prospect.

"Yeah, I guess I do know." She kicked a rock with the toe of her shoe before saying, "Um, since you're already booked, the room is yours now."

"It is?"

"Uh huh, I can show you your room, and you can clean up there. It's going to be yours tomorrow, so you might as well use it, now that you need it. It won't be cleaned again before then, but since you're the only one using it..." her voice trailed off.

"I can live with it not being cleaned again, if it's okay," he said.

"I own the place, and I say it's okay," she said in a slightly haughty tone.

"You enjoyed saying that, didn't you?" His face shot her a rare toothy grin.

"Thoroughly enjoyed it," she said through a radiant smile. She led him toward the inn saying, "Right this way, I'll show you to your room."

"Hold on." He snagged his flannel from the side of the truck then reached into the cab and pulled out a gym bag. "I have some clean sweats in here."

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To be continued…