Author's Note: This the second story in the Road Home series. If you haven't read the first story, Empty, I suggest you do, as it sets up events for this chapter. Thanks so much to CineFille, Bridges, and Lula Bo for the really helpful beta work. Thanks also to juststandstill for advising me about the intricacies of family law, helping me plot out future chapters, and for giving this chapter a read.
As much as it's a relief that Lorelai is somewhere, that someone knows where she is, Luke can't let it go at that. The longer he goes without talking to her, the more anxious he gets about the future of their relationship. He's sure that Sookie would continue to say that he should give her some time, but he feels that he can't wait any longer to make sure Lorelai knows that he's sorry, to tell her that he's only just now realized how much he's hurt her. He needs her to listen, to hear him.
Because she won't, he tries the next best thing. The day after Sookie tells him Lorelai left for the consulting job, Luke pulls Lane aside at the diner and asks for Rory's phone number. He promises that he's not going to hound Rory, but that he just wants to get a message to Lorelai. Lane eyes him cautiously as she writes it down and he wonders if he appears as manic on the outside as he feels inside.
In spite of his eagerness for the number, it takes him a few hours to figure out what to say and screw up the courage to make the call. Dinner rush is almost upon him by the time he shuts himself in the storeroom and dials, glancing nervously back and forth between the scrap of paper and the keypad of his phone. Once he presses send and puts the phone to his ear, he hunches over with his elbows resting on his knees and stares at his tightly closed fist.
"Hello?"
"Rory? It's…uh…Luke."
"Luke," she says softly. There's a hint of resignation in her voice that tells him she isn't entirely surprised by his call.
"Did you talk to Lane? I hope that it's okay that I called."
"Lane said that you told her she could say you'd fire her if she didn't give you the number," Rory jokes. Then she lowers her voice to confirm, "You didn't, right?"
"No," he answers quickly. "No, of course not. I wouldn't…"
"I know, I just…" She sighs. "This is kind of weird," she admits.
"I know it is and I wouldn't have called, but I'm worried about your mom. I need to talk to her." He can feel the impatience in his voice.
"I can't tell you where she is," Rory responds firmly, before softening as she continues, "she made me promise."
"I'm not…" He pauses, correcting himself, "Well, I was going to ask, but if she made you promise, I won't." He takes a deep breath. "You've seen her though, right? Is she okay?"
Rory hesitates before answering. "She's…okay. I drove up with her to the inn where she's going to be consulting. Well," she clarifies, "I drove my car and she drove hers, but we took her stuff and I helped her get settled in."
He wants to ask when Lorelai's going to call him, when he'll see her again, but he reins in his urgency and just asks, "Do you know if she got my messages?"
He's expecting a little bitterness in her response – resentment that he's caused her mom pain – but all he hears in her voice is sadness. "She just needs some time, Luke."
"Okay," he acquiesces. "Can you just…when you talk to her, can you tell her I'm sorry?"
He thinks he hears a hitch in her voice before she answers, "Yeah."
"Well, thanks." He pauses, not knowing what more to say, but reluctant to break the only direct link that he has to Lorelai.
Rory's voice breaks the silence. "Luke?"
"Yeah?"
He hears her take a breath before speaking, and her voice is shaky when she finally goes on. "You're…you are the only guy she's ever given her whole heart to." He can't keep his mind from adding 'and you broke it' to finish the sentence. "I just think that it's important you know that," she continues.
It takes some effort to force words by the sudden lump in his throat, and when he does they sound gruff to his ears, "Thanks for uh…thanks for telling me." He pauses. "I'm sorry, Rory."
She's quiet for a long moment, then he hears her say sadly, "I'm sorry too, Luke."
After the call, he's at a loss about what to do next. He knows she wants 'time,' but if she's going to spend time away from him, he wants her to do it knowing that he cares about her, that she's still the woman he wants to spend his life with.
The next day, during April's visit to the diner, while she's describing in detail her internet search for all the science museums in New England, he starts to feel a glimmer of optimism. "So, is it easy to do that?" he asks casually.
"Sure, as long as you pick the right search terms."
"So, could you, say, find all of the inns in New England owned by a particular company?
"Probably." She gives him a puzzled look. "Why?"
"I'm, uh, just thinking about going away for the weekend."
"To an inn owned by a particular company?" There's a skeptical note in her voice.
"The Durham Group," he says, tearing a piece of paper from his order pad, and jotting down the words.
"Huh?" she asks, obviously still wondering about why a particular company rather than which company.
He slides the paper across the counter toward her. "The Durham Group. That's the name of the company."
"Oh," she says, nodding, but still looking a little confused. "So, are you going with Lorelai?"
"Yeah," he answers slowly, "that's the idea…" He feels a twinge of guilt as he says it though, he reasons, it's a small deception, and in his defense, he doesn't know what's going on until he talks to Lorelai anyway. Except that she gave the ring back, you moron. He's pulled back out of his head by the sound of April's voice.
"…I haven't seen her since the party. Is she okay?" April asks, her eyes full of concern.
"She's fine," he says quickly. Then he adds, by way of explanation, "She got an opportunity to consult at another inn. Temporarily," he added hurriedly. "It's a short-term assignment."
"Okay," April says, drawing out the word as she gives a small nod, "How long will she be away?"
It's a simple question, and Luke wishes he knew the answer. "A few weeks, a month, something like that," he says vaguely.
"That's not too specific." She looks directly at him, her eyes narrowed in doubt. "Is everything okay with you and Lorelai?"
"Yeah, it's just…" He stops, looking down at the counter and letting out a long sigh. He wishes briefly that April wasn't such a perceptive girl, and not even because he wants so desperately to hide anything from her. It's just that it's so hard to admit, to say out loud, how badly he may have screwed this up. He takes in a breath and lets it out slowly, his shoulders falling in defeat. "I don't know. I don't know, but I'm trying to fix it."
April gives him a long look, and then a small nod. "And finding the inns owned by," she glances down at the slip of paper, "the Durham Group," she looks back up at him, "finding these will help?"
"I hope so."
"I hope so too." She pauses, thinking. "Okay, well, I should be able to look these up tonight."
"Really?" he asks hopefully. She nods again, and he gives her a grateful smile. "Thank you."
She smiles back. "It's no problem, really." A mischievous look dawns across her face. "Now if you had email, I could send you what I find tonight, but if you're going to continue your luddite existence, I'll have to bring it to you." She thinks for a moment. "I could probably bring it tomorrow. I don't have anything to do after school."
He starts to protest that he doesn't want her to go out of her way, but he's too impatient for the information to be polite. He'll make it up to her somehow. "Thanks. That would be great." Then he gives her a wink. "Maybe one of these days you'll talk me into a computer after all."
April grinned. "Well, I'll keep up the campaign."
True to her word, April drops by the next day after school and hands him a list. "Here you go. It looks like The Durham Group owns twenty-two properties in New England. I included all the contact information: phone number, address, and email. Not that you'll use the email," she looks up at him and smirks, "yet."
He grins back. "We'll see about that." Then he taps his finger on the paper, "Thanks for this."
"Well, let me know if you find what you're looking for. They sound nice."
"Okay," he says, nodding.
April hangs around for a little while, but once she leaves, Luke holes himself up in his apartment and calls every inn on the list, asking to speak to Lorelai Gilmore. On the sixteenth call, instead of getting, "I'm sorry. No one by that name works here," he gets, "She stepped out for lunch. Can I take a message?"
"No, that's okay. I'll call back."
He looks back at the address: Burlington, Vermont. Knowing where she is takes a huge weight off his shoulders.
It's not terribly difficult to arrange to be away for a couple of days, especially when he promises Lane and Caesar time off over the weekend. April's due for a visit on Saturday, so he'll make sure he's back by then.
Thursday morning he sets out early, partly out of habit and partly out of eagerness to finally see Lorelai, and talk to her. Once on the road, he drives without stopping and without his usual patience.
He finds the inn easily after exiting Interstate 89. He can tell from the signs that he's close to the University of Vermont, though the inn seems to be outside the most bustling part of campus. He pulls into the small lot and takes in the sprawling building. Though well maintained, it's clear that the building itself is old and has been added onto several times. Across the field he can see what looks to be a barn and wonders if this inn has horses like the Dragonfly.
During the entire drive, he'd focused only on his determination to get here, but now that he's standing outside the building, he's dreading facing what is sure to be a difficult conversation. He takes a deep breath, building his resolve, then buries his hands in his pockets and turns toward the front of the inn.
When he enters, he's surprised to see several guests in the lobby, apparently in the process of checking out. Luke hangs back by the door, the crowd giving him a chance to watch Lorelai as she goes over the bills with the guests and exchanges polite conversation. She gives the guests perfectly serviceable smiles and laughs weakly at their feeble jokes, and suddenly he's sure that he's the only one who can tell that her heart isn't completely in it. No one here would know that when she really smiles it goes all the way to her eyes.
He tries to imagine her reaction when she sees him and pictures anger, sadness, confusion and even a little glimmer of happiness thrown in for good measure. What he doesn't expect is the way that the surprise and shock she shows upon seeing him are followed by a blank look of defeat and a resigned sigh.
"Luke," she says quietly, her voice oddly calm. "What are you doing here? Why did you come here?"
"I came to find you," he answers matter-of-factly, as he walks across the room to stand in front of the reception desk. He lowers his voice and asks, "What about you?"
She gestures around the room. "Consulting." He glares at her for avoiding the bigger question, and she looks down at the papers in front of her before saying, "I needed to get away."
"Why?"
"Don't do this, Luke," she says flatly.
"What?" He's confused by her stoic demeanor, such a contrast to the emotional breakdown outside the diner.
She sighs. "You don't want me." The soft certainty in her words unnerves him.
He gives a huff of frustration. "How do you know what I want?"
"You really don't want me," she insists quietly, fumbling with the pencils on her desk.
He waits for her to look up before speaking, his voice softening. "I've always wanted you. That hasn't changed."
Her expressionless eyes look back at him. "It will."
"No, it won't."
She gives a small shake of her head. "You should go."
His response is adamant. "No. I want to talk to you. I came all the way up here. I'm not going to leave just like that."
She shakes her head again, but her shoulders fall in surrender. She calls to someone across the room that she'll be back in five to ten minutes. He starts to argue that they'll need more time than that, but she gives him a quick glance before she turns and walks toward the back of the inn, then opening a door and walking into a small studio apartment. He glances around the room as he enters. Beyond a stack of DVDs next to the television and a few of Paul Anka's things scattered around the space, he'd have been hard pressed to tell that there was anyone living here, much less someone who typically lives in a state of organized chaos.
Lorelai is still facing away from him as he closes the door. She doesn't say anything for a moment, the only sound that of their breathing…and the jingle of Paul Anka's collar as he lifts himself off his dog pillow and walks softly over to her. While she pets him, the dog peers around her leg in what looks a little like an assessment of the enemy, though Luke can't imagine that he's really become the enemy, or that Paul Anka could do anything about it if he were.
When she makes no attempt to speak, he presses her, "So, can we talk?" He takes a breath. "I'm so sor-"
"I slept with Christopher."
Her words are quiet, and so his first reaction is a shocked, "What?" but he can already feel the blood draining from his face. It's an odd expression, he's always thought, but at this moment he imagines that he can actually feel it leaving and taking with it any muscle control he might have been able to muster.
She turns and lifts her eyes to his, and repeats, "I slept with Christopher, so you should-"
He's still wrapping his head around her words as he bites out, "What? When?"
She folds her arms across her chest, and it strikes him that she looks like she's bracing herself for an attack, "After I asked you…" she pauses and looks down, "after I asked you to elope."
"When after?" he snaps.
"That night," she says in a croaked whisper.
The words hit him with such a force he practically recoils. "But I was worried about you. I've been so worried about you. And you were…" He's never so badly wanted to break something, to shout and yell and let her know how furious he is. But she's just standing there, her expression dead, and it's so unnerving that he simply says again, "You were…"
"I know." She lifts her head and for this looks him in the eye, her voice dull as she goes on. "So you should go. You don't want me."
It's now that he finally fully understands her meaning. With one last look he turns and leaves, not at all sure what he wants anymore.
To be continued