Disclaimer: This is an original story based upon the characters of Gilmore Girls. No profit will be made from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Thanks to all who read and reviewed. I really hope this story works out okay. Thanks for your confidence! I hope you enjoy the next installment!
6 Months Later
Laura Baker stood in the checkout line at Safeway thumbing through the September issue of Better Homes and Gardens. She kept her eyes focused on the pages, but could feel the curious eyes of others around her staring at her. She wasn't sure if she would ever get used to that. It was getting better, when she had first come to the small town of Bentley California, where everybody knew everybody; she had felt like she was in a zoo.
"How ya doin today Laura?" the cashier asked as she started to ring up her items. Judy the cashier was an older woman who prided herself on knowing her customer's names—and anything else she could about them.
"Just fine Judy," Laura said smiling as she put down the magazine and watched the display screen count a running total of her grocery bill. Laura started to get nervous as the bill hit fifty dollars and she still had four or five items left to go.
"That'll be $54.50," Judy said as she put the last item in the bag.
"Can you take off the ice cream…and the wheat thins?" Laura asked and ignored the sighs of pity that were coming from the line behind her.
"Sure thing Sweetie, that'll be $51.49" Judy replied with a smile.
Laura handed Judy her fifty dollar bill and then dug down into her brown leather purse and brought up a handful of change. She had three quarters and the rest in pennies. Her cheeks burned as she counted the pennies out carefully and handed them to Judy.
"Thank you," she said as she took her sacks of groceries and headed out the door before anyone could approach her and ask her if she needed some money.
Once she was outside, she smiled and turned down the road to head for home. It was a beautiful day, and the sunshine and the smell of the big lilac bush in the Keller's yard made her forget about the embarrassing money incident. She took in a deep breath of lilacs and was certain they must be a connection to her past. The fragrance seemed to enter and diffuse the fog that was in her brain and for one moment her previous life was so close she could almost grab on to it—but she couldn't reach. She took one last breath of the fragrant flower than picked up her groceries and continued on the way home.
"Why don't you get a car?" John had asked on his last visit for dinner.
"I don't have money for a car," she had replied.
"Then I'll buy you…" he had started enthusiastically but she had cut him off.
"No John, you aren't buying me a car," she said as she cut him a slice of apple pie.
She chuckled as she thought of John's determined features melting away as he bit into her apple pie. She was so proud of that pie. It was the fourth attempt that day at making a pie, covering herself in flower and watching the apple pie sequence on the Martha Stewart video over and over again. If she ever did remember her father, she wondered if he would be something like John. He was the one who rescued her from her accident and brought her home to Bentley. He had helped her find a small house. He had been there for her during her recover, for the physical pain she had felt and for the emotional devastation she had been through that first month when she had come to grips with the fact that she could not remember anything prior to waking up and seeing John's face smiling over her, putting a wet cloth on her forehead. Her memories of those days were foggy as well; she didn't really have any solid memories until she arrived in Bentley. She had asked John to tell her of the details of her accident two months ago, hoping that it would provide a link to her past but he wouldn't. He told her she wasn't ready for it and that sometime in the future he would. He didn't know that much, he had said. He had simply found her and taken care of her. It was John who had given her the last name of Baker—his wife's maiden name, and he had called her Laura from the beginning. She had often wondered if that was a clue that he knew more about her past than he let on. Was Laura her real name? And if it was…how did he know it?
"Laura!" she heard John call as she neared her house. He got out of his car in the driveway and hurried over to her taking one of the bags of groceries.
"How are you?" he asked as they continued to walk to the house.
"Good—how about you?" she replied smiling.
"Fair—I have another board meeting in about a half hour, just dropped by on my way back to work to see if you needed anything"
"No, I'm fine, thank you for asking," she replied.
They walked up the porch to her house and John opened the door for her. They walked into the kitchen and she put the groceries down on the table.
"Are you coming for dinner on Sunday?" she asked. John nodded, "I'll be there," he said and then bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "See you later," he said as he went out the door.
As John Hart drove out of the driveway and looked back towards the house, he switched on his favorite CD—the CD his daughter had made him for his sixtieth birthday, five years before she had died. As Marjorie's voice filled the car, he thought of Laura. She was a little older than Marjorie would have been today. He guess about five or six years older, but she had the same sparkle in her eyes that Marjorie had and it did his heart good to see that again. He had been worried about her those first few months, when it had been clear she had no memory whatsoever of her life before the accident. He had tried to be a moral support, his mind going back to when Anna and Marjorie had needed him during their sickness. No one had needed him like that since until Laura had come into his life. He told her when she called him crying that she would remember her previous life. "It would all come back to her someday," he would tell her over and over again. But when she had hung up, and he felt the feeling of being really needed for the first time in such a long time he secretly hoped she never would.
Laura unpacked her groceries and then went into the living room and sat down at her piano. She smoothed her hand over the sleek black top and then across the shiny black and white keys. The piano was another connection to her past. She had wandered into a piano store one day when she was out and had sat down at the piano they had on display for people to play on. It was as natural as walking to her, as natural as breathing. Her fingers connected to the keys and she had begun to play a Bach concerto. The people in the store, knowing full well who she was were staring at her in disbelief. A few months later, the community and the piano store, knowing she needed a way to support herself, had given her a piano to pay back over time when she was established as a piano teacher. It had meant so much to her, and had set out right away getting piano books and supplies, and making out flyers. She had no problem attracting students. Her celebrity status among the town had assured her students. At first it had bothered her, she didn't want to have students based on their or their parent's curiosity but she had accepted it over time and had determined to win over the students and their parents on the basis of her talent.
It had been a thrilling thing for her, the first time a parent had handed her two crisp twenty dollar bills and told her that she was doing a good job. She had taken it into her bedroom and propped it up against a jewelry box she had bought at the Salvation Army. She knew the forty dollars would be gone soon, but she sat back on her bed, drawing her knees to her chest and looked at the two bills delightedly. She laughed at herself as she realized how silly she was to be this proud over forty dollars. Had she never worked in her previous life?
The doorbell rang and she hurried over to answer it. It was Charlotte Sullivan, her first appointment of the day.
"Come in Dear," she said, motioning the little girl to come inside. "How are you today?" she asked.
Charlotte smiled and showed her two missing teeth.
"You lost some teeth didn't you?" Laura asked with surprise. "Did you swallow them?"
Charlotte giggled, and as she shook her head her black curls bounced. "No—they fell out and the tooth fairy took them away. She gave me two quarters!"
"She did!" Laura said with exaggerated amazement. Charlotte nodded delightedly. "Well, you are rich!" Laura said and put her hand on Charlotte's back and led her to the piano.
"Did you practice your scales?" Laura asked.
"Yes Mam," the little girl replied.
"Let's hear them."
Charlotte's face got very studious, and she leaned over the piano, careful to curve her fingers. She swallowed hard and then proceeded to play a C major, D major, and G major scale.
"Excellent!" Laura cried and the little girl beamed with pride. Laura reached over to the side of the piano to get her sheet of star stickers. "What color do you want?" she asked and the little girl pointed to the blue.
"Blue it is!" Laura said and took off three blue stars and put them next to Charlotte's name on her scale mastery chart. She was just about to tell Charlotte to open her books when suddenly her eyes rested on Charlotte's black hair. For some reason, just as the scent of lilacs brought her closer to her old life, the color black had as well. She thought it was very strange but now she suddenly realized—it was black hair. For some reason, this girl's black hair was stirring something in her. Almost unconsciously, she reached out and placed her hand on the back of Charlotte's head and began to caress the black curls.
"Are you alright Ms. Baker?" the girl asked.
Laura shook herself out of her trance and smiled, "I'm just fine Dear, why don't you open your book to page 8 and we'll see how you're doing.
Miles away, Richard Gilmore slowly parked his car up against the side of the road and walked up the hill to the grassy graveyard. In his hand he held a bunch of lilacs. He walked slowly—he had walked slower and slower since that night, and by the time he was up the hill he was breathing heavily. He walked among the tombstones until he had come to the family mausoleum. He walked inside, going past his parent's room, Aunt Cecile's room, Uncle Robert, Aunt Olivia, until he had come to the very end room. There was a large angel statue erected, over looking the ground where no body lay—she didn't even have a final resting place. There was simply the angel statue, with the words engraved in gold "Emily Gilmore—beloved wife of Richard, mother of Lorelai, grandmother of Rory." Secured at the bottom of the statue, was a family picture they had taken years ago—before the separation, before the disaster with Christopher and Luke, before Rory had hated them. He laid the lilacs down on the ground and then knelt down reverently, for this was the most sacred place in the world to him now.
"I scored a deal today as Lorelai would call it," he whispered, his voice carrying throughout the hall. "It's a good deal, should be a good asset to the company. I got invited to the Schaffer's cocktail party last week. I don't think I'm going to go." He paused for a minute and tried to keep a handle on his emotions. "I know you would say that I still need to keep up social appearances with the neighbor's but you know that you were the head of that department. You were brilliant at those things Emily, absolutely brilliant." He stopped again as the painful memory of his wife's face seared into him, the hurt he had caused when he had basically said that her life was frivolous and meaningless."
"I went out to lunch with Rory yesterday," he continued, trying to change to a lighter topic. "That girl is doing so well as the editor for the Yale news. You would be proud Emily." His voice suddenly became thick, "She said she was sorry Emily, really sorry for all the hurt and anger. She started to cry and just kept sobbing. I didn't know what else to do except hold her Emily. She just kept saying over and over again that she was sorry." Suddenly he could hold it in no longer and his large shoulders began to shake and he started to sob. "She feels guilty Emily. She thinks you died believing that things would never be right between the two of you again. I don't know how to help her. Emmy…we have a daughter that has to go to counseling every week and can't pull herself together because she feels guilty that she was the one that lived. I can't do anything for her. She breaks down and sobs whenever she's around me. What am I supposed to do? I can't do it Emmy. I can't do it without you." His sobs racked his body and he doubled over letting out his anguish on the cold stone floor.
