The doctor grabbed the patient's chart as he opened the door to his office. He gave the family seated there, waiting on him, a quick, professional smile as he scooted over to the desk, flipping through the chart as he went. He took his seat and continued to briskly look over the test results clipped into the file.
Finally he looked up, knowing how hard it was for the family to wait on his verdict.
"Well," he said. "These last numbers look promising. Very promising. She's made remarkable progress."
"But is she cured?" the mother demanded.
He shook his head at her. He'd dealt with her kind before. They wanted absolutes.
"We might not ever to be able to say she's completely cured," he began. "What we're hoping for here, optimally, is that she's able to go on living her life in a relatively normal fashion."
"So. Should we take her somewhere else then?" the father asked, with a little bit more belligerence than what the doctor liked.
"That's certainly always your prerogative," he told them, coolly. "But it's doubtful that you could find a treatment anywhere that would guarantee a cure. It just doesn't exist."
The patient's daughter looked at him with big, somber eyes. "I just want my Mom back," she stated simply.
He found himself smiling back at her warmly. "I'm pretty sure I can promise you that."
"So what's the bottom line here?" the father broke in, impatiently.
The doctor sighed. "The bottom line is that we've done what we could. We've given her what she needs to fight back. The rest is up to her."
He looked at the daughter again. "But I'm optimistic." He patted the folder in front of him, containing the mysterious numbers that somehow foretold the future. "If she continues the way she has so far, I'm cautiously optimistic that she's going to have a long, happy life."
It had been a typical summer afternoon at the Dragonfly. A family had just returned from a hike and was helping themselves to some of Sookie's lemonade and cookies on the sideboard. A businessman had his laptop open in the library. Two gray-haired ladies were strolling across the lobby, discussing the prices at Mrs. Kim's.
Lorelai glanced up and smiled at one and all, judging if she was needed. Deciding she wasn't, she went back to her computer screen, trying to determine how it was possible that the second week in September appeared to be completely double-booked.
Just a minute or two later the atmosphere changed as if the barometer had dropped. When Lorelai looked up, frowning, the entire lobby had cleared. Not one person was in sight.
No one except for an angry, red-faced man who was barreling towards her, an envelope clutched in his waving fist.
"Would you like to tell me what this is supposed to be?" he growled at her, smacking it down on the counter.
She pretended to look at it. "Hmm. Looks like a cashier's check to me, Luke." She hadn't really meant to be a smart-ass, but his attitude just seemed to demand it.
His eyes got darker as his scowl deepened. "I know that, Lorelai!" he snapped back at her. "But what the hell is it for?"
She sighed. She knew they'd have to have this conversation in one form or another, but she'd been hoping he'd be in a better mood when they had it. "Let's go into my office," she suggested. She saw him starting to balk, so she made her voice firmer. "I'm not having this discussion out here in the middle of my business," she added, decisively.
She walked over and opened her office door and stood there, waiting for him to enter past her. He was fuming, but walked inside. She followed him in and closed the door.
Suddenly her office seemed even tinier than it actually was. His presence filled it up and his irritation burned away the oxygen. There was no room left for her. There was no air left for her.
Somehow she made it over to her desk. She leaned against it, gratefully, doing her best to pretend that she was still functioning.
He waved the check at her again. "Explain this. Now!"
"We still owed you $22,700 on the Dragonfly loan," Lorelai recited.
"This is a lot more than $22,700!"
She took a deep breath. "And it's the money you put into the house."
His agitation lessened. Obviously he hadn't expected that. He looked at the numbers on the check again. "What?"
"I had a pretty good idea how much you'd paid, but I've got the folder with all the receipts, so I added it up. The total is the Dragonfly loan plus your part of the house renovation."
He pushed at the band of the ugly black hat he was wearing. "I didn't..." he started, staring at the check. He swallowed and tried again. "I didn't put money into the renovation, expecting to be paid back," he said gruffly.
"No, you expected to live there," she pointed out, trying to sound reasonable and not heartbroken.
He grimaced at that. "Where did you even get money like this?"
She shrugged. "The First National Bank of Guilt in Hartford."
His mouth dropped open. "You went to your parents?"
She squared her shoulders. "Yes."
He slapped the check down on the desk. "I don't want you back in debt with them! I don't want this at all!"
"They understand," she tried to explain. "They completely understand why I need to pay you back."
"Well I don't understand!" he yelled again, frustrated. "I didn't do it to be paid back!"
"Why is it every time I pay back a debt, I get in trouble?" she groused, mostly to herself. She chewed on her lower lip, trying to figure out a way to explain it to him. "Look, for just a minute, can you imagine what it's like to be me?"
He looked at her distrustfully.
She swallowed painfully. Her mind, for just a moment, considered trying to come up with quips and funny lines to explain, but she abandoned that as completely unpractical. She wasn't ready yet to do funny. Maybe she never would be.
"I wake up every morning in the bed we picked out together," she began, her voice barely carrying over the few feet to where he stood. She saw him cringe, but she continued. "At least I do on the days I can stand to sleep up there at all. I wake up and I see the room that's this perfect combination of the two people we used to be together. I go into the bathroom, where only one of the double sinks gets used. And then I walk over to my extra-big closet."
He was staring down at the carpet now, his hands on his hips.
"I walk downstairs," she continued, "and somehow, everything in what used to be my house has turned into a reminder of you. And then I get in my car, and I drive here to my business. The business I wouldn't have if it wasn't for you propping up my bank account at just the right moment."
He rubbed at his brow, even as he started to shake his head. "But Lorelai, I don't want the money back," he insisted.
She settled her hip a little further back on her desk. "Either I pay you back, or I'm going to have to sell the house, Luke. I can't go on the way it is."
His head shot up, startled, and their eyes met. "I don't ―" he began. He tore his gaze away and looked over at the window. "I wouldn't want you to do that," he said, his voice sincere. "That's your home. Yours and Rory's."
"Then take the money," she said, gently. "Let me try and get back on my own feet again, OK?"
A huff of frustration escaped his lips as he reached for the check. He studied the figures again. "It's a lot of money," he muttered, still sounding peeved.
She nodded in agreement. "You know, you could put it into an account for April's schooling. That'd pay for quite a bit of her college, no matter where she ends up going."
"Yeah." His head tipped as he considered that. "As smart as she is, I figure she'll get some scholarships, but yeah. Maybe that's a good idea."
She found herself almost smiling at him. "Even if she does get some help with tuition, college is really expensive. You've heard me groan enough times when I see an envelope with the Yale business office stamped on it."
"Yeah," he said again, his forehead creasing in thought. He sat down gingerly on the chair facing her desk as he contemplated the check.
"Or, you know what?" She couldn't stop herself from offering another idea, even though her internal sensor that monitored self-preservation was letting out some warning tones. "You could find yourself a nice little house."
He frowned at her again. "Why would I do that?"
She was beginning to nod like a maniac, knowing she was going over the edge. "You know, for you and April. Someplace that you could make into a real home for the two of you." Her fingers were clutching the edge of her desk, using the solid wood as a lifeline.
"Well, I …" He shook his head slowly, looking first at the check and then glancing up at her. "I never thought of that. But maybe. Maybe that'd be an idea." He took a breath; blew it out. "Maybe I'll talk it over with her. See what she thinks."
"Sure. You should totally do that." Her voice barely wobbled at all. In relief, she raised her right hand to push back a strand of hair that had tumbled forward.
The summer sun hit her hand. Luke's face went back to looking chagrined in an instant. She snatched the hand back and tucked it under her thigh, but it was too late.
He jumped to his feet. "You're wearing that?" he bellowed. "What is wrong with you?"
"It's mine," she told him, lifting her chin in defiance. "You didn't want it. I paid for it, so it's mine now." She nodded towards the check in his hand.
He glared distastefully at the check. "What are you talking about?"
"I asked Kirk how much it was. I added that to the check, too. So now it's mine."
She could tell she'd managed to throw him so off-balance he didn't know how to react. She watched anger and disbelief mingle on his face.
"How can you possibly wear that?" he gritted out. "What? It's just something pretty and shiny to you? How can you wear that and not..." His voice trailed off, as he shook his head in disgust.
"It is pretty," she agreed. She put out her hand, looking at the ring she was wearing on her right hand. "It's a lot prettier than a piece of string."
He looked at her stonily, his chin jerking at her to continue.
"It's my reminder, Luke." She turned her hand to him, demanding he look at it, too. Her heart was pounding but she felt the need to drive the point home. "I don't want to forget how cruel I can be. I don't want to forget how easy it is to ruin your entire life in just one, thoughtless moment. Every time the diamond snags on a thread, I remember. Every time the light catches it, I remember. I want to remember, Luke. This ring's my conscience."
His free hand rubbed over his jaw. He sat back down, slowly, on the chair, and he stared down at the floor again. "Listen, Lorelai ―" He stopped, shaking his head. "That's not ― That's not what I want for you, OK? I don't want you to ― to keep beating yourself up over this, you know? Eventually you need to go on. Be happy again."
"Maybe," she said, feebly. "Someday." She smiled grimly. "That's why I'm doing this. I'm trying."
He gave a huge sigh as he glanced around the room. "I know that the idea of you and me together seemed like a good plan," he said, hesitantly. "We kept trying to force it to work, but maybe it just wasn't right. That's what Liz says, and I'm beginning to think she knows what she's talking about. Maybe you and I were just never meant to be together at all."
She was able to get a finger over her lips, locking the sob inside, but she couldn't do anything about her eyes that instantly brimmed over. She understood that he meant the words to be comforting, but they hurt too much.
He looked up at her, and his solemn eyes met her tear-filled ones and froze there. She saw the moment he lost his anger and hurt and confusion and became nothing more than her Luke again; the man who had always wanted to protect her from pain and unhappiness.
"Lorelai," he whispered, helplessly.
Her phone started to beep incessantly on her desk. She leaned over to view the display, taking the opportunity to wipe her eyes.
"Sorry," she said, trying to smile at him apologetically. Her voice was still choked with tears. "I've got to take this. Do you mind?"
"Oh, sure," he said, getting up at once. He hurried to the door, seemingly in relief. "Thanks for this, I guess," he said, waving the check in his hand. "I'll think about what you said."
He closed the door softly behind him.
She buried her face in her hands as her shoulders shook with barely-suppressed sobs. She hadn't cried in weeks, but today she had no choice. She let the phone go to voicemail as she cried, just one more time, over the man who'd stopped loving her too soon.
As the summer progressed, Lorelai got more and more used to the 'new normal' she was creating. She got used to stepping inside Stars Hollow businesses without checking to make sure he wasn't inside first. She got used to walking down the streets and nodding casually to him if she happened to pass him. She got used to going to town meetings again, where she carefully sat on the opposite side of the room if he was in attendance, too.
She tried to keep quiet at those meetings, not wanting to call undue attention to herself, but Stars Hollow was Stars Hollow, and Taylor was Taylor, and eventually the ridiculousness quotient was so high that she had no choice but let a zinger fly. It earned her a smattering of applause, and, miracle of miracles, Luke turned around and looked approvingly at her while a slow smile crossed his lips.
She didn't think she'd ever see a smile on his face again, at least not directed at her. She replayed it in her head again and again; trying to make sure it was committed to memory. The rest of the meeting drifted over her as she sat lost in her own personal YouTube video.
Days passed by and became weeks, and each week contained some new goal that she'd accomplished. Some milestone that turned her more into that Lorelai Gilmore she used to be.
Eventually she even got used to the feeling that she was missing some important part of herself each day, as though she'd forgotten to strap on an arm or leg.
This was the new normal, and she was pushing herself to accept it.
However, there was one thing she absolutely couldn't force herself to do. Stepping inside the diner, even with Rory offering to go in with her, was completely out of her depth. That was his place, filled with his essence. It was filled with too many years of bantering at the counter. Crammed full with too many memories of paint samples and danishes. It was laden with the knowledge that there hadn't been enough kisses. The acknowledgement of the pitiful amount of 'I love yous' shared there wrenched at her heart. And then, there was the paralyzing memory of walking out the door for what had turned out to be the last time.
For her, Stars Hollow no longer had a diner.
That one subterfuge helped her to go on with the rest of her life.
Lorelai bent her head and let her forehead lean against the archway into the kitchen. The plaster felt sticky on this hot, late August afternoon. She ran through options in her head, and came up with the same conclusion: She was out of options. She had no choice.
Slowly she brought the phone up to her head, and punched in the number she'd never forget, even though she assumed she'd never dial it again. As it started to ring on the other end, she prayed that Lane or Caesar would answer it, or ―
"Luke's," his voice stated, saturated with his usual impatience.
"Luke! Um, hi! It's, uh, it's Lorelai!" She pressed her hand hard against the arch, trying to quell her nervousness. "Listen, I hate to bother you, but, uh, it seems like I've gotten myself into a bit of a jam here, and I can't come up another solution. I had things all arranged with Sookie, but her kids and Jackson all have the flu, and, well, you know he's scared of Apricot, and Michel doesn't want him around PawPaw and ChinChin ― like he thinks he's a bad influence or something ― and Rory's back at school, you know, and I just couldn't think of anyone else to ask."
She finally stopped to take a breath, listening to the silence coming from his end of the non-conversation.
"Jackson's scared of Babette's cat?" he asked at last, confused.
"No! No!" She was shocked to hear herself laugh. "No, Paul Anka, Luke! Paul Anka is scared of Apricot!"
"Paul Anka is scared of his own shadow."
"Just that one time," she loyally defended her dog.
"So what are you asking here, exactly?" he questioned, and his voice didn't sound like he was already primed to say no.
"I'm getting ready to go out of town," she explained. "For ten days. Sookie said Paul Anka could stay with them, because I didn't want to leave him here for that long, and you know he doesn't do kennels, but I just found out that Martha and Davey and Jackson are all sick, and she says to go ahead and bring him over anyway, but I can't do that to her. And I can't take him to Babette and Morey because of Apricot, and I can't ask Michel because he doesn't want Paul Anka around his dogs, and Rory's already back in school, and I don't want her driving back and forth everyday to check on him, and ―"
"When are you leaving?" he interrupted her litany.
She squeezed her eyes shut. "I need to head to the airport in 30 minutes."
She listened to the silence on his end again.
"We'll be there in ten," he promised.
She ran around like the crazy person she surely was, a bright pink shopping bag flying out behind her as she gathered water bowls and kibble, leashes, and the liver treats in the sky-blue bag that didn't freak him out. She found the sock of Rory's that he liked to sniff as he fell asleep. While searching the house for his items she grabbed the last few things for herself, too, and threw them into the Jeep.
The ten minutes flew by. It wasn't until she heard the truck and saw a head in the passenger seat that she recalled he'd said 'we.'
"April!" she said, with a false bright note in her voice. "Hi! It's great to see you!"
"Hi," the girl replied, sliding out of the truck's cab.
Luke walked around the truck, studying the house instead of her.
"So, how ― How are you?" Lorelai asked, hoping she didn't sound as desperate as she felt. Her heart had sunk down as far as it could go. She couldn't believe he'd brought her here. Now, when it didn't matter.
"I'm fine," April replied, shrugging. She looked around curiously.
Paul Anka had been sitting on the porch, worriedly watching the newcomers. He suddenly tilted his head, sniffed, and then trotted up expectantly. He put his nose against Luke's kneecap, then leaned against him in pure contentment.
Luke bent over and scratched at the dog's ears. "Hi, you dumb mutt." His voice contained more affection than what the words would have indicated.
"So, this is the famous Paul Anka?" April asked. She squatted down to pet him.
Paul Anka sniffed at her and seemed to make the connection between the girl and Luke. He allowed the petting, in spite of the scary glasses on her face.
"The one and only," Lorelai said. "Well, the only dog one. As far as I know."
Paul Anka put a wet nose against April's cheek and she laughed.
"Did you have a good summer?" Lorelai asked. It was a lame question, but the only thing she could think to say.
"Yeah, it was great," April replied. She was grinning as she ran her hand through the hair that perpetually stuck up on the top of Paul Anka's head. "Mom and I went out to visit my Grandma for awhile. And Luke keeps dragging me around to look at houses."
Lorelai's head shot up to look at him. "Oh, really?" she murmured, and he nodded, looking sort of pleased with himself.
"Yeah," April continued. "He thinks I need a house to come to here, but I don't. I love living above the diner. I mean, who wouldn't?"
"Leftover pie at midnight." The words had burst out of Lorelai from some forgotten place.
"Exactly!" April said, nodding. "But he doesn't get it!"
"Sad, isn't it?" Lorelai added. "He'll never know the joy of boysenberry at 2 AM."
"I don't need both of you pickin' on me," Luke said. His tone was dry and amiable. He sounded almost as if he was actually enjoying it.
She swiftly studied him again, troubled. While this interaction was using up every bit of finesse she had to keep her cool façade in place, it didn't seem to be bothering him at all. The old Lorelai might have gotten sharp and catty, but this new Lorelai, who was still feeling her way on what was normal and what was not, just let it slide.
"Sorry," she offered, her now-standard response.
His eyes tracked over her in a moment, and he frowned. "April, why don't you go give him a quick run in the backyard before we get him in the truck," he suggested.
"Sure!" April sprang up and hit her hands on her thighs as she danced backwards. "Come on, Paul Anka! Come on, boy!"
At first Lorelai thought that at least not having to interact with April would decrease the weirdness factor. She was wrong. She glanced up at him with an unsure smile as the uneasy silence wrapped over them.
"So, you're going on a trip?" he questioned, looking up at the roof of the house.
"Yep. Out west. Utah. Salt Lake City, actually." She had to force the information out in tiny little pieces, all the while keeping the strained smile in place while she tried to imagine this was all an everyday thing, sort of like the way it used to be.
"Ten days is kind of a long trip," he commented, while his eyes studied the front windows.
"Well," she shrugged, "not when you've got another job."
"What?" He was no longer pretending to be interested in house maintenance. He was glaring at her, his hands clenched at his hips. "You've what? You promised me! You promised you weren't leaving!"
"I don't mean a job like that," she began to explain, wondering when she'd made a promise like that. "I mean another job. A second job. Something to just kind of fill in."
His face grew dark. "Because of the money," he grumbled. "You're doing this because of that damn money you insisted on paying me back."
"No!" she protested. "Well...Yeah, I guess it would be nice to be out of hock with my parents before I die. But that's not why I did it."
"Go on," he ordered.
She looked at the side of the house, now wishing that April and Paul Anka would come bounding back. "I needed something else to do. Rory doesn't need me very much any more, you know. And the Dragonfly is practically on autopilot. I love it, and it's fun, but I'm hardly needed there some days. And ―" She bit down hard on her lower lip, damming up the reminder that he hadn't needed her at all. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, I needed a hobby, or something else to occupy myself. So I thought, hey, why not make some money, too? So I called Mike Armstrong. Remember, that guy with the Durham Group that wanted to buy the Dragonfly?"
"Yes," Luke said curtly, rolling his eyes.
She nodded. "So I called, and they hired me on as a sort of consultant. I'm sort of a secret shopper for them. I go to places that they own, or places that they're thinking of buying and report back to them about what I think. I've gone twice so far, but they've just been weekend trips to New Hampshire and Rhode Island. This trip is longer, because they own three places around Salt Lake already, and they're considering two more. It just makes sense for me to see them all at once."
His hands were still clenched but his voice didn't sound angry. In fact, it sounded like he needed reassurance. "But you're coming back, right?" His face looked worried.
"Of course I'm coming back." She saw April and Paul Anka running towards them, and she smiled at him tentatively. "I have to come back. You've got my dog."
He nodded, and then deliberately turned his focus to April. "Let's get loaded up and get going," he called out to his daughter.
Lorelai handed him the huge pink shopping bag and was gratified by another eye roll. He stashed it in the bed of the truck while April coaxed Paul Anka into the cab.
"I'm going to keep him occupied out in the square while Luke doggy-proofs the apartment," April informed her. "He told me about the chocolate-eating incident."
"Yeah, that was bad." She looked at Luke and their eyes locked for a moment before they both self-consciously looked away. "Your dad saved his life that night."
"It wasn't that dramatic," Luke protested, but there was something about the way his jaw was set that told more of the story.
She stepped closer to the truck, looking in through the window. Paul Anka looked at her quizzically. Then he sniffed at Luke and seemed to accept the situation.
"Call me if you need to," she said. "I've still got the same cell number. If you ―" She suddenly tripped all over herself. "You know, if you kept it. If you've still got it. If you ―"
"Of course I've still got your number, Lorelai," he said, gruffly.
"Oh! Well, good!" She nodded briskly. "And I'll let you know when Sookie is ready for him. Hopefully it will only be a couple of days."
"Don't bother." Luke glanced over Paul Anka's head at April, then looked back at her firmly. "We'll be fine. Don't bother Sookie."
"Oh. OK then. If you're sure." She crossed her arms over her chest and stepped back as he put the truck into gear.
He turned his eyes to her and searched over her face for a brief moment. "Have a safe trip," he offered. "We'll see you when you get back."
"Thanks," she nodded. She was able to smile without it feeling weird. "Thanks for helping me out here."
She stood for a minute longer in the yard, watching as the truck disappeared down the street, carrying away within it almost everything she wanted in life.
By the time Lorelai changed planes at O'Hare she was able to tuck away the bizarreness of entrusting Paul Anka to Luke and of having April actually visit her house. She locked it away with all of the other things she didn't permit herself to dwell on any longer.
She wheeled her little suitcase behind her like an extra-obedient dog and lost herself in the bustle of the multitude of travelers in the concourse. She browsed in the gift shops and grabbed a slice of pizza at a Sbarro's. When it was finally time to line up to board her flight to Salt Lake, the thrill of being on a trip was buzzing through her veins. She smiled at everyone and nearly bounced into the plane. She was starting to remember all of those dreams of traveling the world she'd had when she was a kid.
Progress came to a halt as a passenger ahead of her lobbed his suitcase into an overhead bin. She spotted what was going to be her seat, four rows ahead. Looked like she was going to be sandwiched between two guys.
Dirty, she thought, grinning. She couldn't remember the last time that thought had popped into her head.
She stopped and pushed the telescoping handle back down into her suitcase as she picked it up, preparing to shove it into the storage bin.
The dark-haired man sitting on the aisle jammed his magazine into the seat pocket and jumped up. "Here. Let me," he said, reaching for her suitcase.
"Thanks," Lorelai said, having no qualms about letting him take over. "This is me," she added, and slipped into the middle seat.
"Hi," she offered to the man at the window. He barely acknowledged her and immediately went back to studying papers he'd pulled from a folder in his lap. She smiled, thinking of her father.
The other man plopped down on the seat to her right, and she knew at once why he had the aisle seat as he tried to contain his long legs and arms. His dark brown hair was parted in the middle and sort of long, looking kind of how Keanu Reeves wore his, except it worked on this guy. He turned and gave her a friendly, open smile, and she noticed that there was a little gray mingling with the dark brown. His cheeks sported the popular three-day scruff look, and she braced herself for the Luke hurt, but it didn't come.
"So is Salt Lake the end of the trip for you or just a layover?" he asked, his voice sounding like he was genuinely interested.
"End of the trip," she confirmed. "How about you?"
"It's my home," he said. "Has been for about eight years now."
"I'm just visiting," she added.
"Business or pleasure?" he asked. His right eyebrow gave a naughty waggle, even as the rest of his face retained his wholesome smile.
"Business," she said with pride, and another thrill shot through her as she was able to say that.
"There's a lot of that going on out there," he said. "Good for me, though."
"Oh? What do you do?"
"Architect," he said, with a self deprecating shrug. "We've got more work than we can handle."
"Well, that's got to be a good problem," she observed.
"Yeah, except when you're so busy you can't find time to come home for a visit."
"I thought you said Salt Lake was home."
He grinned at her, giving her a nod of approval as she caught him in an error. "It's home now. But I was raised here in the Midwest, and my mom and sisters have been trying to get me back for a visit since Christmas. This was the first chance I've had."
"Sisters?"
"Three," he nodded, with a long-suffering sigh.
Her eyes tracked over him. "You love them to pieces."
He grinned at her again. "Yeah," he said, "even when they're a pain."
She made sure her seatbelt was tight and pushed against the tray-table, making sure it was secure. "So I guess you're not one of the Osmonds, huh?"
He laughed, a rich, delighted laugh. "No!"
"Oh." She pulled out her phone; made sure it was off. "Well, you know. The hair, the teeth, the all-American glow. I thought it was possible."
He looked at her with pretended regret, and she noticed the golden flecks in his dark brown eyes. "Can't carry a tune," he admitted. "Two left feet," he added, shuffling them together from where they were stashed under the seat in front of him.
"I doubt that," she disputed. "You've got that athlete thing stamped all over you."
"Football," he acknowledged. "But that's far removed from dancing."
"Hmm," was all she said. She was watching the flight attendants point out the emergency exits.
The plane taxied down the runway, bumping over things she hoped it was supposed to be bumping over. They pulled into line and the motors whined into a louder pitch. She gripped the arms of her seat.
He glanced at her tensed hands. "Are you OK?"
"Sure." She smiled grimly. "I'm fine."
"You're not nervous about flying, are you?"
"I'm fine about flying. It's the taking-off part I'm not sure about."
"It'll be OK," he said, with reassuring authority.
"Oh, I know!" she agreed, bobbing her head. "It's just...My daughter read this report once, about how the biggest percentage of crashes occur during take-offs and landings. She showed it to me because she thought it'd make me less nervous about flying over the ocean. Unfortunately, it sort of backfired on her."
He chuckled. He put his hand out towards her, his fingers curled in towards his palm. "Feel free to hang on, if you want. I've had plenty of practice with three nervous sisters."
She looked at his steady hand but shook her head. "I'm fine." She gave him a quick, jumpy smile. "I can do this on my own."
"Of course you can," he said, and settled back into his seat.
The jet engines revved higher and the plane started to lurch down the concrete. Lorelai pressed her head into the cushion and dug into the armrests.
Suddenly his hand was back in front of her.
"Hi," he said, his voice friendly and kind. "I'm Daniel. I thought I should introduce myself in case we end up crashing here at the end of the runway."
She turned her head enough to look into those sympathetic, but mischievous, brown eyes. "Lorelai," she said. She paused, fighting with herself and her fears before she finally let her hand be swallowed up in his.
"Nice to meet you," he said warmly, and held her hand in a comforting grip as they barreled up into the sky.
She needed every inch of her long legs as she tried to keep up with Daniel's hurried strides to the luggage carousels. Another advantage of being tall, she thought victoriously.
They'd chatted continually during most of the flight. She knew all about his sisters and his small, one-room architecture firm that had expanded into a whole building. He knew all about Rory and the Dragonfly. She was sure they'd driven the businessman seated next to her crazy.
Daniel's suitcase appeared first. He jostled through the crowd and pulled it off, double-checking that it was his. He came back and stood by Lorelai, appearing unsure for the first time.
"I've got my car here," he said. "Over in the long-term parking. I'd be happy to drop you off someplace."
"Oh, thanks, but ―"
"Or we could go get dinner." He made it sound like a statement, but she sensed it was nerves instead of pushiness.
"Thanks," she said again, "but I've got to get checked in. And I've actually got an expense account to use, so I think I should take advantage of it. I appreciate the offer, though." She smiled, keeping her eyes peeled for her suitcase.
She saw him deflate a little bit. He dropped his suitcase and pulled out his wallet. "Here," he said, handing her a business card. "My sisters all say I make a pretty good tour guide. If you get bored with your business stuff and want to see the sights, give me a call."
She turned the card over nervously, not sure what to say.
"I'd love to see you again," he said, in a rush, "but I'm not trying to push you. Just keep the card and call if you want to. I have a wealth of accomplishments to my credit. For example, I'm one of the few people who have figured out how to get a drink in this city. So if you suddenly find you need a drink, give me a call."
She frowned and smiled at the same time. "Daniel, I ―"
"Just keep the card," he pressed her. "That's all."
She lost the frown and just smiled. "OK." She slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans. "Thanks for the hand-holding. It really helped."
"My pleasure." He gathered his bags together and nodded at her. "Hope your trip's a success."
"Thanks. It was great meeting you."
"You too," he sighed.
Lorelai watched as he headed for the doors leading outside. She felt really pleased with herself.
"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how it's done," she murmured. She caught sight of her fluorescent pink bandana tied to the handle of her suitcase and stepped forward to claim it.
Her adventure was beginning and for the first time in forever she felt like she was ready for whatever life decided to throw her way.
It turned out that she and the Durham Group were made for each other.
Because she owned her own inn and knew the potential problem areas, she was able to spot things that might have been hidden to anyone else. She knew how to casually chat up maids and busboys. She knew what to look for in the lobby. There were a hundred little things that she spotted and added to the running list in her head.
Every night she fired up her laptop and sent off a report filled with details to Benita, Mike Armstrong's sister, who was in charge of prospective investments. She sent another to Dale, Benita's husband, who watched over the properties they owned. And every morning she got replies back, complimenting her on the great job she was doing. She basked in their approval, feeling as though each email was covered in gold stars. It was the first time she'd felt like she was good at what she was doing in a very long time.
The days flew by while she moved from one property to another, her head filled with details of the new place she was observing instead of regrets. She stood up straighter, breathed deeper. Smiled more. Remembered how easy conversation used to be for her. And every time she stepped outside she was gobsmacked all over again by the deep blue sky and the mountain vistas abundant from every vantage point.
About halfway through her trip she came back to her room after suffering through a pasta dinner in the dining room that Sookie wouldn't have even fed to the cats that came to the Dragonfly's back door. She was contemplating how to describe the awfulness of it as she logged onto her computer.
Her heart thumped happily as she saw emails waiting on her from Rory and Sookie. There was even one from Michel. She thought about deleting that one before she even read it. And then she noticed one from 'nerdysciencegirl.'
Shivers crawled up and down her spine as she clicked on it. Somehow she already knew.
"Oh, my god," she breathed out, seeing it confirmed. "April."
Hi, Lorelai, she read. Luke had your email address and said maybe I should give you an update on Paul Anka. He's doing fine in case you're interested, and I'm sure you are. He's really a fascinating creature. I don't know much about dogs, but he doesn't fit into anything I thought I knew. I got some books from the library so I could take care of him better. Sometimes he looks around the diner like he misses you. Like he wonders where you are.
Her heart caught and then started beating faster. Then she realized April was talking about Paul Anka, and she felt foolish.
I've been keeping track of what he does on the days I'm around. Here are the statistics so far.
She'd included a chart, listing every time Paul Anka ate, what he ate, how many times he'd gone outside, and what had scared him during the course of the day. The last category was a long one.
I think he'd make a really good science project. If you don't mind, maybe I can study him some more and find a way to compare him to more normal dogs. Do you think I could do that?
I hope you're having a good trip. I haven't been to Utah but my Grandmother lives in New Mexico. I wonder if there are any similarities?
You don't have to write back if you're busy or something. But if you want to, that would be fine.
April (and Paul Anka, too.)
Her eyes hurt from staring at the screen, unblinking. She was suddenly freezing. She got up to turn down the air conditioning and grabbed an extra blanket from the closet to wrap around her shoulders. She sat down in front of the computer and read the message again. And again.
She watched her finger as it hesitantly clicked on 'reply,' almost as if it didn't belong to her. She shivered and then started to type.
Hi April,
Thanks for filling me in about Paul Anka. I do miss him. I'm glad he's in such good hands. I know he's a weird dog, but I love him anyway. Sometimes I think maybe he's not really a dog but some sort of hybrid. A dog and a...what? I can never decide on what else.
I've never been to New Mexico, so I don't know how the states compare. Maybe I'll get to go someday and check out an inn there. All I know is that Utah is very beautiful. I finally understand why there are all of the songs and poems about mountains. They are pretty gosh-darn awesome.
If you want to study Paul Anka and use him for a science project, that would be OK with me. I guess we should check with him, too, huh? You'd better make sure that's not one of the things he's scared of!
Thank you for watching over him and letting me know how he is. I really appreciate knowing he's in good hands.
She paused for a moment, biting down nervously on her lip, and then typed as fast as her fingers could move.
I hope you're watching over your dad, too. I know he likes to pretend like he's all manly and tough, but he's not nearly as tough as he thinks he is. You've probably already figured that out, haven't you? Make sure you don't wake him up when you're sneaking downstairs for that midnight pie raid. He needs every minute of sleep he can get.
I'd better get back to work now. Thanks for the update.
Lorelai
She clicked on 'send' before she could change her mind. Then she instantly had a panic-attack, worrying about what Anna would say if she knew Lorelai was emailing her daughter. Then she remembered it no longer mattered what Anna thought.
She turned on the TV, probably louder than she should have, just to have something to fill up the empty space in the room. She pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders while she read the rest of her emails. She tucked Luke and April and all of the things she didn't dwell on anymore away, and set about doing her job.
At that moment she was more grateful for the Durham Group than she ever would have imagined.
Lorelai's total immersion in her extra job worked wonders on her psyche. She fell asleep debating whether or not there was enough traffic going by this particular property. Was it too hard to get to? Was the interstate too close by? She woke up, anxious to write down first impressions in the morning. Did the maids talk too loudly? Did the vacuum start too early out in the hall? And was it a garbage truck making all of that racket in the back?
She remembered how to have goofy conversations with strangers. She remembered the joy of strolling into a new shop. She remembered how breathtaking a pretty day can be, when you're not doubled over with sadness.
The trip was coming to an end ― a very successful end. She had one final property to observe and two days left. Already Benita and Dale were discussing where to send her next.
She had totally relegated April and Luke and most of Stars Hollow to a locked part of her brain and had temporarily thrown away the key. So of course that was when reality had to come and tap her on the shoulder. Of course that meant that April had to contact her again.
She closed her eyes while the email opened. She half expected it to be an angry rant from Anna, threatening her to stay the hell away from her daughter. She gingerly began to read.
Woof woof, woof-woof, woof. (That's Paul Anka saying hi.)
Hi Lorelai! (That's me saying hi.)
He's still fine. Luke has him totally trained to be in the diner now. He has like this routine, and people expect him to be there. Taylor seems to be the only one who scares him. Taylor and broccoli.
I'm back in school now, so I haven't gotten to see him as much. Luke came and got me today after school, and he brought Paul Anka with him. Half of the girls in my school had to come up to pet him. Some of the guys did, too. Well, one guy. His name's Jared and his locker's next to mine. He's OK, I guess, even though he's never looked through a telescope. How can you be 13 and never looked through a telescope?
Well, I have another reason for writing you. I have something to ask you, if you don't mind. It's something that I can't talk to Mom about. I've gotten the impression that you've been friends with Luke for a long time, so I thought maybe you could tell me what to do. I've been thinking for a while that maybe I should call him Dad. Do you think I should? I mean, he is, after all. But would that be too weird? Do you think he'd freak out? I don't want to freak him out, because he's just getting used to me. But do you think he'd like it? Sometimes I think yes and sometimes I think no. Can you help me make up my mind?
I guess you'll be home soon, won't you? Paul Anka will be very happy to see you.
Your friend,
April
Lorelai bowed her head and cradled her forehead in her hand. April's words chased each other through her brain. How in the world had the girl she wasn't even supposed to know turned into a pen pal?
Suddenly she sat up straight and clicked on 'reply,' scared that if she didn't do it immediately she never would.
Hi April,
Thanks again for the update on Paul Anka. I hope he still recognizes me when I come home. Maybe I should wear a red rose in my lapel.
I can't believe Luke allows him in the diner and lets him ride in the truck. Those used to be two very big no-nos. He never wanted Paul Anka around like that. You must have a great deal of power in your grasp to persuade him otherwise.
As for locker-mate Jared, it may be that he's telling you he's never looked through a telescope before because he wants to look through a telescope with you. I'm just saying. I'm old and wise and know these things. Or maybe he really is just a deprived kid who's never looked through a telescope. But I'm betting not.
Now to answer your big question. I think that Luke would be very pleased and proud if you'd call him Dad. I know for a fact that he loves you more than anything else in the world. If it feels right to you, you should do it. Don't make a big thing about it or anything, but say it if it feels right to you. You'll know. You'll know when it's the right time. And don't be surprised if he doesn't even catch it right away. But he will. Luke tends to tuck things away like that and ponder them. And trust me, if you decide to do it, it will make him very, very happy.
Good luck. I'll be thinking of you.
Lorelai
Once again she hit the 'send' key without even checking over what she'd written for typos. Then she shut the laptop lid down with a decisive click.
She walked over to the window, trying to contain her agitation. Her heart was thumping so fast she felt sick. She was twisting the ring on her finger compulsively.
This was turning into a night when she really, really, really needed a drink.
She was sitting on a sofa in the lobby when she saw Daniel enter. She stood up to greet him.
He stopped dead about a dozen steps in front of her. "Wow."
She glanced down at herself. She had on her least grubby pair of jeans. Her sleeveless top was pale green and ruffled. Nothing was worthy of a 'wow.' She raised her eyebrows at him questioningly.
He cleared his throat, flustered. "It's just, you know how you convince yourself that things aren't as good as you remember them? I figured you weren't nearly as pretty as my memory had you pegged." He looked at her in admiration again. "Turns out I was wrong."
It was her turn to be flustered. "I bet you say that to all of the girls from Connecticut."
He grinned. "You caught me."
"Not much gets past me," she bragged as he led her out to his car. "I can smell a line a mile away."
"I bet."
"And I see you still have that All-American glow. Do you have to take vitamins to maintain that?"
"Every day," he happily played along. "Don't tell anybody, OK?"
They'd stopped next to a black Jeep. "You're kidding. This is yours?"
"Um...Yes?" He looked uncertainly from the vehicle to her. "Sometimes I need to go out to a building site, so I need something a little rugged ―"
"No, no, it's fine!" she hurried to assure him, hearing the defensiveness in his voice. "I drive a Jeep, too! Well, mine's smaller, and older, and tan, and has a dent from where a deer hit it, but other than that, they're identical!"
"Oh, well, good," he said.
"Yeah. That's good," she agreed.
He helped her into the car and hurried around to get behind the wheel. "I thought we'd do a little sightseeing before we went to get dinner, if that's OK."
"Sounds great," she smiled. Anything sounded great. Anything to keep her from thinking about the man back home who was soon going to find himself being called Dad.
"So, you hit a deer?" he asked, as he pulled out in the street.
"No. My daughter was driving and a deer hit her," she explained patiently. "There's a big difference."
He cast her a confused glance, which made her chuckle.
She launched into the story, fed by Daniel's appreciative laughter. She found her voice and remembered she liked to tell stories. It was obvious Daniel did too. Conversation swirled around them as they parried words between them. She was surprised when he pulled into a parking lot because it seemed like they'd barely started driving.
"K Mart?" She frowned as she looked at the glowing sign on the big building. "You need to pick up some supplies? Some of those All-American vitamins? Is that today's blue light special?"
"That's it exactly," he said, climbing out of the car.
She was having flashbacks to her first date with Jason, but gamely she headed towards the store.
"Wrong way!" She turned to see Daniel standing at the rear of the car. He held his hand out to her. "Come this way. I want you to see something."
She tipped her head and studied him, barely smiling, as she made her way to him. She didn't take his hand, but he didn't seem offended.
"Over here," he said, leading the way to the edge of the parking lot.
Lorelai had been so involved in their conversation that she hadn't realized that they'd been steadily climbing as they traveled up the street. Nor had she noticed that the darkness of the evening had settled over them. Now she saw that much of the city lay below them, lights twinkling as if a galaxy had been brought down to earth to nestle between the mountains.
She gasped at the beauty of it. "That's...amazing." She panned her head as she tried to come up with a better description. "It's so pretty," she murmured, not able to do the scene justice.
"I know," he agreed with satisfaction, looking down at all of the streets and homes below them. "It never gets old to me. I don't know if it's because I come from land so flat you can see the whole county at once, but I'm constantly in awe of my surroundings. When I first moved here it happened all the time. I'd be walking out of the drugstore, and I'd just have to stop and stare at the mountains. They were just so beautiful. Meanwhile, all of the natives are trying to get around me. They're all looking at me like, what's wrong with him?"
"Like you're the crazy one," she suggested, smiling.
"Exactly." He was silent for a few moments, and then he swept his arm out at the scene in front of them. "I hope I stay crazy for a long time. I hope I never get used to this."
"I hope you stay crazy, too," she offered gently.
He smiled a thank you at her. "So are you ready for dinner?"
"Ha! My friend, you will learn that I'm always ready for dinner."
"Then off we go," he said, and shepherded her back to his Jeep. He studied her solemnly as he helped her in. "If it's OK, I'd like to take you to my favorite restaurant."
"Fine by me," she said eagerly.
"It might be...a little...unorthodox," he warned her, as he got behind the wheel.
"Is there food?"
He pretended to think about it. "Yes."
"Good food?"
"Yes."
"Lots of it?"
"Of that there's no doubt."
"Then let's go," she insisted, in the mood for a further adventure.
In no time Daniel was pulling off the highway and into a thriving shopping center. She could see an Office Depot, a grocery store, and maybe a Best Buy tucked in around the corner. She didn't see a restaurant. Well, there was a hamburger place, but …
"Here we are," Daniel said jovially, parking close to the door.
Lorelai ducked down to see out at the building, then swung her head around to stare at him. "Astro Burger? Seriously? Astro Burger?" She shook her head. "Is it like out of the Jetsons? Is Rosie the Robot the cook?"
"It's my favorite place," he reminded her.
"Really."
"Come on. Give it a try," he cajoled her. "I'm guessing you're a burger and fry type of gal."
He had no idea. "Sometimes," she mumbled, the best she could do under the circumstances.
He ushered her inside, giving her a hurried history lesson about Greek immigrants and pastrami and the world's most awesome hamburgers.
"OK, OK," she finally capitulated. "You've convinced me." She gazed again at the huge menu board. "Why don't you just order something for me?" she suggested.
"You'll love it," he said convincingly. With an air of assurance he placed their order.
He was right. The food was great. She gobbled down her hamburger covered with pastrami. She had to try all of the dipping sauces with the French fries. And just when she thought she couldn't eat another bite, Daniel came back with a cup of rice pudding and a black raspberry milkshake.
She was relaxed and comfortable and pleasantly full. They felt like old friends, and she was loving listening to his stories about growing up with his three sisters. As an only child, any stories about siblings held her in thrall.
"Well, this was back when parents weren't as picky about leaving their kids to fend for themselves. My Mom had gone back to work, and Mary was supposed to be watching the rest of us."
"She's the oldest sister?" Lorelai asked, sucking down some more milkshake.
"Yep. About two years older than me. Anyway, this was the summer our roof held the spell of the forbidden over her. Every time you turned around, she was coming up with another reason to go out on the roof."
"Why?"
"Who knows?" Daniel shrugged. "All I know is I'd be down in the basement, the only cool spot in the house, trying to watch old 'Batman' reruns, and here'd come my little sisters, screaming that Mary was stuck on the roof again."
"How'd she get up there?"
"A ladder," Daniel sighed.
Lorelai frowned, not following. "But if she had a ladder ―"
"She had a ladder, but she was terrified to step back on it to get down. She'd clamber right up there with no problem, and grab the Frisbee or the errant newspaper or a cat, or whatever she went up there for, but then she'd chicken out about climbing back down."
Lorelai was still shaking her head. "But why didn't you ―"
"Because my Dad would've walloped the daylights out me. Ladder climbing and roof sitting were strictly prohibited. I was limited to standing there and trying to convince her to take that first step to get back on the ladder."
She started to giggle. "How many times did this happen?"
"Over and over and over. The whole summer." He shook his head. "We provided the amusement for the rest of the neighborhood. My littlest sister, with the nervous stomach, would invariably end up throwing up in the bushes. The dog would get excited and run around and around the house, eventually veering out into the street just in time to trip the paper boy. And meanwhile, Mary would just stand there on top of the roof, her hands crossed over her chest and looking like this …" He crossed his own arms and made his face into the perfect picture of a worried, scared, defiant teenage girl.
Lorelai laughed. She could picture the whole scene with his excellent theatrics and vivid storytelling. She laughed a real laugh, one that came from deep in her belly; one that left her breathless with a few tears squeezing from her eyes. For a minute she laughed and was happy. For a minute she completely forgot about that woman who cheated on her fiancé. For a minute all of the regret and sadness that still clung to her like lint fell away. She was happy. For a moment.
And then the guilt of betrayal slashed through her, sharper than any of Sookie's knives. She didn't realize she'd jumped to her feet until she felt Daniel's hands on her wrists, trying to ease her back down.
"This isn't right," she babbled to him. "I can't do this. I shouldn't be here!"
"Hey, hey. Come on. It's OK," he said, his voice gentle and soothing. "Come on, sit down. Tell me what's wrong. Was it the pastrami?"
She sat back down abruptly, realizing she was making a scene. She couldn't stop twisting the ring on her finger.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I just ― I can't do this. I'm sorry."
He carefully folded her hands into his. "What are you sorry about?" he asked. "You've done nothing wrong." His voice was certain.
She bit at her lip. "I've done everything wrong."
He caught her eye and smiled encouragingly. "Tell me."
She shuddered as she tried to take a breath. "I was ― I was engaged."
"I saw," he said, softly touching her finger. "I wondered."
She refused to let the tears take over again. She'd worked too hard to banish them. "It didn't work out. And I thought maybe I could try going out again. But I can't. I've led you on, I think. I'm so sorry." She hung her head, feeling raw and ashamed.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.
"No." That answer was emphatic.
"OK." He nodded, not pressing. "But you didn't lead me on. Don't worry about that."
She looked at him, exasperated.
"Well...OK," he admitted, easily. "So I'm a guy. And yeah, sure, of course I envisioned a couple of different endings for this night. But," and here he held a stern finger up, "I'm a nice guy, damn it. God knows, I've tried not to be, but I just can't help it. Niceness is inbred in me. Goes along with that All-American glow. Even if you would have thrown yourself at me, I probably would have turned you down. Probably. But my point is, I've had a lot of fun with you tonight. We've had a great time, right? That's all that counts. This night has already met all of my expectations."
"You are a nice guy." She sat there, her head bowed. She swallowed hard, fighting against the words that wanted to spill out of her. For some reason she felt like talking. For some reason she felt that if she explained it to him, maybe it would finally make sense to her.
"Luke's a nice guy too. That's his name. Luke. He's gruff, and he's got this exaggerated sense of right and wrong that leads to a lot of yelling sometimes, but he's one of the nicest guys I've ever met." She paused, taking in the biggest breath she could hold. "I think that's why it hurt so much when he turned me out of his life. I mean, how awful was I that this nice guy treated me the way he did?"
"Even nice guys can get confused," Daniel offered.
"He wasn't confused. He knew exactly what he wanted and it wasn't me."
"Look, Lorelai." Daniel appeared to be weighing his words carefully. "If he's made you this sad, I don't think he's as nice of a guy as you think he is."
She had so many years of knowing Luke that it was easy, sometimes, to skip over the last painful one. She could pick and choose the memories. "No, he's nice. He's one of the unbelievably nice ones," she said confidently. "I'm the one who was horrible."
Daniel sighed and pushed up from the table.
"Where are you going?" she asked, already feeling abandoned.
"I'm going to go get us some coffee." He shrugged. "It kind of seems like you want to talk, and if you do, coffee always helps. And if you don't want to talk, that's OK, too. When we get done with our coffee, I'll take you downtown to Temple Square and tell you all about the angel Moroni."
"Is there someplace there I can confess my sins?" she asked, only half-joking.
"Nope, but I was raised Catholic. I know all about granting absolution." He gave her a sympathetic smile as he turned to go back to the counter.
"You're too nice for your own good, Daniel," she called after him.
"Don't I know it," he muttered.
So it's true, Lorelai thought, as she crashed through the front door into the Crapshack, there is no place like home.
She dropped the suitcases and bags to the floor and just stood there for a moment, breathing in the warm, musty air of home. After another minute she raced around the ground floor, opening all of the windows and turning on fans to make a breeze.
Upstairs she pulled off her wrinkled travel clothes and put on a pair of old, soft shorts and a tank top printed with little flowers. She went into the bathroom and used a clip to gather her hair up off her neck. She washed off every bit of the grimy makeup from her face.
Feeling more human, she bounced back downstairs. More out of habit than anything else, she pulled open the refrigerator and studied the lonely bottles of condiments in the door, because unfortunately she knew there wasn't much else in there.
Another turn through the rooms and she was ready to have Paul Anka come home. She grabbed the phone. This time she wasn't as unnerved when he answered.
"Hi, Luke. It's me. Lorelai. I wanted to let you know that I'm back home, so anytime that you want to drop Paul Anka off, I'll be here, OK?"
"I'm pretty swamped here," he said, sounding harried. "Caesar's off today. You'll need to just come here and get him. I've got all of his stuff ready to go."
"Oh, Luke, I don't think ―"
"I'll see you when you get here."
And just like that, she was holding the phone, listening to nothing but a dial tone as her stomach started to churn. All of the confidence she'd built up over the course of her trip vanished.
She tried to come up with a plan. Maybe she could call the Dragonfly and dispatch one the porters to go get him. Maybe...Maybe Babette was there, and she could bring him home. Maybe she could call him back and say she was in no hurry, and just bring him home whenever he had time. She'd wait. No problem.
She shook her head. She couldn't do any of those things. She was going to have to go get him, or otherwise Luke would know. He'd know that she was too scared to step into the diner.
Doom hung heavy over her head as she raced back upstairs. She pulled off the comfortable shorts and top she'd just put on. She found an orange sundress with yellow polka dots that she remembered he'd been fond of during the previous summer. She hurried into the bathroom and smoothed makeup back over her face. She brushed out her curls. She slicked on some lip gloss, felt ridiculous, and wiped it off. She pushed her feet into some sandals with big yellow flowers over her toes.
Halfway down the stairs she turned around. She ran back into the bathroom and put on the lip gloss after all.
She was shaking as she got into the Jeep. She knew she had to go. If she took any longer, he'd know she was dragging her heels. She had no choice. She had to get there.
She parked the Jeep down the street from the diner. Getting out of it was the hardest thing she'd ever done. Then she walked across the street and realized that was even harder. Her feet carried her up the steps. Her hand was on the doorknob. Somehow she managed to tap into a little reservoir of strength. Her hand turned the knob and she stepped inside.
At first she wasn't aware of anything but the roaring in her ears. Then something warm and fuzzy ran into her legs.
"Paul Anka!" She dropped down, thankful to have something to distract her from her nerves. "How are you, boy? Did you miss me? You look cute! Have you been a good boy?"
Paul Anka happily accepted her hugs. Then he turned and trotted back to a small rug positioned just to the side of the counter, pushed back far enough to be out of the way.
Her eyes went to the counter, where Luke was standing, watching her. Somewhere, mixed in with all of the uproar in her head, it dawned on her that he didn't actually look too busy.
Force of habit made her feet carry her towards the counter.
Reverend Skinner and his wife called out a greeting to her. Bootsy commented that she looked hot. She was grateful that no one seemed to be making a fuss over the fact that she was in the diner again.
Luke grabbed a mug and set it in front of him. "Welcome back," he said quietly, as he filled it with coffee.
She gulped, realizing she was going to have to sit there and drink it. "Thanks. It's good to be home," she answered as calmly as she could, remembering how to climb onto a stool.
He paused, looking a little flustered. "Well, I meant welcome back here. But welcome home, too." He rushed on. "Did you have a good trip?"
"Yeah, really good," she nodded, trying hard to smile. "How was Paul Anka?"
"He was fine," Luke said dismissively. "Once he understood that I wasn't going to coddle him, we got along just fine."
Lorelai wanted to ask if trips in the truck and getting to stay in the diner didn't constitute coddling, but she wasn't sure if he knew April had been in contact with her. She clamped her lips back closed.
"How's the second job?" he asked, looking like the words tasted sour to him.
"Good." She felt her face turn sunnier as she bobbed her head. "They like me. They really like me!" she bragged a little, giggling. "They really admired my reports," she said, more seriously. "They said I made good eyes and ears for them, and now they don't feel like they have to go at all. They have a whole list of places they want me to check out next."
"Well, good, I guess," he said hesitantly. She could tell he wanted to be supportive, but it was going against his nature. "So does that mean you're going to be gone a lot?"
She shook her head. "Not more than once a month, and no more long trips. I can't be away from the Dragonfly that much."
He'd started rubbing at the counter with the cloth, his old habit. "But you liked it," he surmised.
She shrugged. "It made me remember the old dreams I had as a teenager. I always thought I'd travel the world." She waited for him to look at her, then smiled softly at him. "Didn't you ever wish you could leave this nosy little gossip mill sometimes?"
He stared at her for a moment. "I guess maybe. Sometimes."
"There's a real allure to going someplace new; someplace where no one knows you. Being able to start all over again. That's what I had when I first came here. The idea of being someplace where no one knows your mistakes is really tempting."
"How tempting?" he asked gruffly. The counter was getting polished to a high gloss.
"Not that tempting," she admitted, still smiling. "But it is so beautiful out there. There are mountains, Luke, mountains! Everywhere you look, just mountains and more mountains standing there all gorgeous and mountain-y! And, I don't know, but somehow the air just feels different. The sky is a whole different color of blue. It's just fun to experience something new."
He'd stopped the compulsive polishing and was looking off to the side. "Dean said one time that Stars Hollow wouldn't ever be enough for you and Rory." His voice had a harshness to it.
"Dean?" She was flabbergasted. "Why would Dean ever say something like that?"
He shrugged, not willing to talk about it. "Don't know. Kid was bitter over losing Rory, I guess." He pointed at her cup. "Drink your coffee," he suggested, and moved away.
She looked down at the mug sitting in front of her. She hadn't touched it or even breathed in deeply enough to send the scent through her lungs. She braced herself to pick it up. To take a sip. She could do this. Of course she could. It was just coffee.
Her hands didn't seem to have any strength left in them as she tried to lift up the mug. They shook and she couldn't control them. He'd filled the mug right up to the brim, just as he always used to, and the piping hot liquid sloshed over her fingers and down onto the counter.
She gave a yelp of pain, more from the memories she was trying to suppress than actual hurt.
He was there at once, his rag mopping up the mess she'd made.
When he wiped over her fingers she latched onto his hand. She couldn't look at him, but she couldn't let go. She was afraid she was hurting him, so tightly was she hanging on, but she didn't dare let go.
"I didn't...I didn't do it on purpose," she managed to say, her voice quavering.
"I know that," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "You might be a klutz sometimes, but you're not malicious."
"No. I don't...I don't mean the coffee." She still couldn't look at him. She gripped his fingers even tighter, so scared he'd walk away. "I mean...I mean that night."
She could tell by the way his breathing changed that he understood what night she meant. She chanced glancing up at him; her heart shrinking as she saw the dead look on his face.
"On the plane, I kept thinking about it," she began in a rush. "I kept thinking about it from the way it probably looked to you, and I need you to know that I didn't do it on purpose. It wasn't some grand master plan to get back at you. I know it probably seems to you like I did it deliberately to hurt you; to slap you in the face, but I didn't. I didn't! I was barely functioning at all that night, Luke. I didn't have enough brain power to come up with some sort of scheme for revenge."
Gripping his fingers was the only thing holding her together. She gulped. "I never meant to hurt you," she whispered, staring down at her lap.
He pulled his fingers away and she tried to stay strong enough to let him go. Her head was too heavy to look up at him.
She couldn't believe it when she felt his hand close over hers before she could snatch it from off the counter. He rubbed it gently, and she finally found the will to raise her head. He bent his knees, bringing his eyes down level with hers.
She couldn't look away from his eyes. They were as blue as the Utah sky, but still filled with pain, and for the first time she understood why the color blue had come to symbolize sadness.
He squeezed her hand again, almost a caress. "For what it's worth, Lorelai, I didn't mean to hurt you, either."
She nodded, believing him. He patted her hand one last time, self-consciously now, and straightened up, moving away.
She went back to staring at her lap, too agonized to look up again.
Something scraped over the wooden counter. When she glanced up, a piece of boysenberry pie sat in front of her, steam rising up from the mound of ice cream melting on top of it.
"On the house," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Welcome back."
Grateful tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them back furiously. "Thank you," she whispered, and picked up her fork.