THE BIRTHDAY PARTY

April's birthday party brings an unexpected twist that changes Luke's and Lorelai's lives forever. Late sixth season.

Disclaimer: Just borrowing from Amy and Dan.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Round Two

While the Gilmores were debating the past and future of their relationships, the Danes-Nardini duo was having a quiet supper at the kitchen table.

"Here we go—turkey burgers, sweet potato fries and broccoli," Luke said heartily as he put the dishes on the table.

"Thanks," April said listlessly. She tasted one of the fries. "It's good."

"Thanks. I had them someplace once and thought I'd give them a try. They're a little healthier than regular fries." He smiled. "When Lorelai's not here, we get to eat in a little healthier way."

"She might like them," April commented. "You should make them for her sometime."

"You think she would? Yeah, maybe I'll try that."

They ate in silence for a few minutes and Luke decided to take the previous conversational tidbit and try to run with it. "So—how are you getting along with Lorelai?"

April shrugged. "Fine."

"Is she treating you well?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Luke covertly watched her as he took a bite from his burger. "Any. . .complaints?"

April thought for a moment and sighed. "No, not really."

"How about—really?"

April glanced up at him, annoyed. "There's no problem." After a beat she added in a very low voice, "She's not Mom."

"Well—no, she's not," Luke agreed. "She'll never be Mom. But. . .well, I think she's a pretty cool person herself and maybe you could get to like her."

"Maybe." She looked at him through her lashes. "Of course you think Lorelai's pretty cool. You're going to marry her."

Luke was puzzled. "Yeah—and? What does that mean?"

"Even if I had something negative to say, I couldn't tell you."

"Why not? Of course you can."

"No, I can't."

"But why not?"

"Because I just can't," April said in a tone of finality. "You love her so you won't agree."

Luke stared at her. "April, just because I love Lorelai doesn't mean I think she's perfect or that I agree with her all the time. Just like she doesn't think I'm perfect, and she doesn't always agree with me. You're entitled to feel however you want to about her, and I'd never get mad at you for thinking differently than me about someone or something."

"Good to know," she murmured, a little sarcastically.

"And if she's doing something that's bugging you, you also have the right to let her know about it."

"I really don't think so," April said coolly.

"Okay," Luke responded, puzzled. After a minute she said, "I mean, I don't even really know her. I went from living with my mom to living with a total stranger. I probably know Lane and Babette and Patty better than Lorelai."

"Yeah, I guess you probably do," Luke said but felt uncomfortable pursuing it or explaining why his daughter hadn't gotten to know Lorelai as well as she had some of the other women in town. And April didn't ask, so the subject was dropped.

Luke left her alone for a minute and they ate in silence. Then he decided to go back to an earlier topic. "Do you miss your mom?"

He got a brief glare in return. "Of course I miss her, but talking about it really doesn't help so can we please stop?"

"Okay, okay. What do you want to talk about?"

"Nothing, really."

Pause. "Okay."

They finished their meal in silence.

Luke finally pushed back from the table and inquired, "Are you ready for your shower now?"

"Yes, that would be good," his daughter nodded. She pushed the wheelchair into the bedroom and closed the door to get undressed.

Luke cleaned up the kitchen and started the dishes until she came back out, dressed in her robe and announced, "I'm ready." Luke helped her cover the cast in plastic bags then she rolled to the staircase and Luke carried her upstairs and set her on the bathroom chair. "Let's see—what do you need?" he muttered to himself.

"Towels," April reminded him. "Two, please, so I can wash my hair."

"Okay." Luke fetched clean ones from the linen closet. "Hey, did you ever use one of these? It's a bath sheet and it's cool because it's really big. I never used one until Lorelai introduced me to them."

"Yes, I know what they are," his daughter replied coolly. "We had them at my house."

Luke continued. "Liquid bath soap already in the shower—what kind of shampoo do you want?"

When everything was gathered and in place, he helped her step into the shower to the stool that he had placed there. "You're getting better at that," he praised.

"I've been practicing."

When she was settled he said, "Okay, you're set. I'll be waiting in the bedroom. Just holler when you're ready."

"Will do." Luke closed the bathroom door behind him.

When she called that she was through, he entered the bathroom, carried her back downstairs and set her back in her chair. She had a towel around her head and was rubbing her hair dry, and Luke noticed that she winced if she raised her arms too high, probably from her ribs. That gave him an idea. "Here, let me do that," he suggested, pulling the towel from around her head.

"No, I can. . ." But Luke wheeled her into the kitchen, pulled a chair up behind her and began gently toweling her hair.

She seemed to relax a little as he did and he made casual comments during the process, nothing that she needed to reply to. Finally she said, "I think it's good to go," and he pulled the towel off. "What do you do now? Brush it?"

"Uhhh—no, comb it. You should never brush wet hair. But you don't have to. . ." But Luke was already up, going into her room the get the comb.

He combed it gently, talking softly as he did. "You have nice hair. It's a lot like I remember your mom's. Really thick and soft. Easy to comb." He chuckled. "Lorelai's hair is really tough. It's very curly and she has to brush it out a lot to get it under any control." He paused and then added softly, "Your hair also looks a lot like your grandmother's."

April hesitated. "Your mother's?"

"Yeah. Your color is a lot like hers—that nice, warm brown. It wasn't as long as yours, though, at least the time when I remember it. But I've seen pictures from when she was younger. It was really long, almost down to her waist, when she and my dad got married." He paused for a moment, lost in the memory. "She used to let me comb it sometimes. But then my dad would come in and say, 'Hey, buddy, that's my job.' and pretend to fight me for the comb. He was kidding, though. I used to insist on combing it when she got sick," he remembered softly. "Sometimes it seemed like it was the only thing I could do to help her feel better. She always said it did."

April said nothing but seemed to be listening and that encouraged Luke to go for broke. "You know, you and I have something important in common," he began carefully. "I lost my mom when I was just a few years younger than you are now."

After a long pause, April said, "Yeah, I know."

She didn't venture anything further, so Luke continued. "I was just thinking about it last week. Ms. Webster at the hospital asked me about it so I started remembering what it was like. I remember that everybody kept asking me how I was doing, and I hated it and would go off by myself to get away from them. Kind of reminds me of you," he finished, inwardly holding his breath.

She said nothing but he sensed her shoulders tensing a little. After a pause, he went on. "But I was a different kid than you. I was always pretty introverted. Not like you—you've always seemed to me like someone who likes to meet and talk to people. And you certainly were a chatterbox. Until this past week, that is."

"Well—maybe I've changed," she muttered.

"Maybe—but I don't really think somebody can change that completely so fast," he countered. After a long pause, he continued. "Even when I didn't want to talk to most people, I still wanted to talk to my dad. I always felt like I could ask him anything, even stuff about my mom."

"But you had known him for a long time by then, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"I guess that's a difference between us," April pointed out. Luke agreed, feeling a little disappointed.

He continued to comb in silence while he thought of what to say. "There were a few other adults around that I felt comfortable with, too. Maisy—you met her the other night. And a lady named Mia, who was another friend of my parents. When I didn't think I could talk to my dad, I went to one of them and they were great." He paused again to work through a particularly tough tangle. "Lorelai and Rory know Mia, too. She owned another inn here, one that closed before you started coming here to visit. Lorelai worked for her and she and Rory lived right there at the inn. They were all really good friends. I hope you can meet her someday, too."

"Maybe," his daughter said indifferently.

Luke continued to comb, glancing at the side of her face, trying to gauge her expression. "I guess what I've been trying to say with all this is that—we're worried about you, April. We know that everything's been really awful for you this week, and if you don't want to talk about it yet, that's fine. But you just don't seem like yourself. I don't think that it's just that you've changed or you miss your mom or that you're getting used to being here—I think there's something else really bothering you. I just want you to know that if you do want to talk, Lorelai and Rory and I all care a lot about you and are all here for you. We really want to help you, if you'll let us."

April didn't respond for a minute. Then she asked a question Luke didn't expect. "Why did your mother die so young?"

"Ummm—she got cancer."

"How did she get it?"

"Well. . ." He felt at a loss. "I guess back then they didn't know as much about what caused cancer as they do now. We never really knew."

"Well, that's another difference between you and me," April muttered.

What the hell does that mean? Luke wondered.

But before he could find a way to ask her, April pulled away. "I think that's done now," she said firmly. "Thanks, Dad." She took the comb and started to wheel towards her room, but stopped and turned. "I think Paul Anka would like to be walked," she suggested, clearly indicating that their conversation was at an end.

"Ummm—okay," Luke agreed, a bit puzzled. He got the leash and held it out to the dog. "Come on, dopey," he said. Paul Anka leaped up and ran to him, tail wagging and tongue hanging out of his mouth with pleasure. "You'll be all right alone for a few minutes?" he called towards April's room.

"Of course," he heard her reply, in a somewhat bored tone. "But tell Babette if you insist."

"I do insist," he called back, feeling unaccountably annoyed all of a sudden. He headed for the door with the dog happily trotting after him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Gilmores were almost completely silent during the salad course, just a word here and there about the ingredients and the dressing, most of those between Lorelai and Rory. Richard was frowning as he appeared deep in thought, while his wife clearly sulked at the other end of the table.

Just after the entrée was brought in, Emily burst out, "What did I ever do to Luke?"

Lorelai swallowed the bite she had just taken. "Excuse me?"

"You said I had hurt Luke. What did I ever do to him? aside from the first dinner, that is, although I still disagree that I was rude to him."

"Oh. Well. Two words. 'Vow renewal.'" Lorelai turned back to her plate.

"And what did I do to him then that was so awful?"

"Well. . .let's see. . .how about the fact that you persuaded Christopher to make a play for me right in front of Luke, even though you knew we were dating? That you told Chris that he and I 'belonged together' and Luke was only temporary in my life?" She shook her head. "You humiliated him, Mom. Our relationship was still pretty new and he felt a little insecure, and you and Chris just exploited that so, once again, you could get what you wanted. When, once again, it was absolutely none of your business."

"It was my business," Emily insisted. "You're my daughter. I have a right to express my concern about the direction my daughter's life is taking."

"To express your concern, okay. To take it upon yourself to wreck a relationship—no. You absolutely do not have that right. It's not your decision who I marry."

"Yes, it is!" Emily said, sounding irrational. "I'm your mother. I know what's best for you."

Lorelai regarded her speculatively. "Why?" she finally said.

"Why what?" her mother returned, irritably.

"Why do you have the right to decide what's best for me my whole life just because you're my mother? Where is that law written?"

"Well. . ." Emily struggled for a satisfactory answer. "Because I just do, that's all!" she sputtered. "All parents know what's best for their children!"

"Really," Lorelai said thoughtfully. "So it's like, what—a law of nature or something?"

"Yes, if you want to put it that way," Emily replied cautiously.

"Ah ha." Lorelai appeared to think that over as she took another bite of her meal. "Okay, let's carry out that theory a little further."

"I'd rather not," replied her mother haughtily, casting her eyes down at her plate.

"Oh, no, Mom, that won't do," Lorelai said softly. "You don't get to just throw out a blanket statement like that and not be expected to back it up. Unless, of course, you don't think you can back it up and are willing to retract it?"

Emily couldn't resist the challenge, as Lorelai had known she couldn't. "All right, then. Test out your theory, or whatever you want to call it," she said, looking defiantly at her daughter.

"All righty then." Lorelai thought for a moment while Richard and Rory looked up with interest. "So—you say all parents know what's best for their children."

"Yes, I do," Emily affirmed.

"So that would mean that I know what's best for Rory?"

Emily was ready for that one. "No, you don't."

Lorelai raised her eyebrows. "Oh, I don't. And why is that? How did I transcend a law of nature?"

Emily ignored her sarcasm. "You were too young when you became a mother. You didn't know what you were doing and you've never caught up. You're too immature yourself, even to this day."

Rory's face flushed and she was ready to open her mouth and retort to that one, but her mother sent her a warning glance. "Okay. So that's my case. Let's see." She considered for a moment. "Okay, how about Luke? Does he know what's best for April? Because you sure didn't think so earlier today."

Emily had to struggle a little over that one. "Luke was raised differently, in a different class. He may not have been raised in a way that would have taught him how to properly parent a child. And he hasn't known her all her life, like I do you."

"Ah. So Luke is an exception to the rule, too." Lorelai nodded while Rory watched uneasily. Her mother certainly appeared to be going somewhere with this.

"Okay—another example, Mom. How about Gran? Did she know what was best for Dad?"

Emily didn't answer right away and Lorelai pressed the question. "I mean, she was certainly brought up properly in the correct 'class', wasn't she? And I believe she had Dad at a later age than when you had me, right?"

"Yes, I believe so," her mother responded, trying to sound indifferent.

"So, going by the rules of your theory, you'd say that Gran knew what was best for Dad? Even when he was an adult?"

Emily hated her daughter at that moment.

"I suppose. . .I suppose you could put it that way," she finally admitted, most reluctantly.

"I see. Thank you," Lorelai nodded. She was quiet for a moment and Emily thought maybe the grilling was over. But her daughter surprised her. "So I guess you'd say that if Gran knew what was best for Dad, she'd also know who was the best choice to be his wife. Yes? Am I right?"

Richard put down his fork. "Lorelai," he said in warning.

Emily was staring with loathing at her daughter. "Why are you bringing this up?" she said angrily.

"I'm just trying to understand your theory here, Mom," Lorelai said, although her cheerful tone had an edge to it.

Richard stared between the two of them and suddenly realized he probably knew what they were talking about. "Lorelai—what would make you say something like that?" he queried, dreading her answer.

She regarded him for a moment, considering. "We found the letter, Dad," she said softly. "The one Gran wrote to you the day before your wedding."

"Lorelai!" Emily shrieked. Richard shook his head sadly.

"I suspected you did," he said quietly to his wife. "The way you were acting before the funeral. I was afraid it was something like that. I had hoped that Trix hadn't saved a copy of it, but. . .well, I guess that was too much to hope. She saved everything." He inclined his head towards his wife. "I'm so sorry, Emily. I'm so sorry you found that. I was furious with her for that." His eyes wandered to his daughter's face. "And with your comparison in mind, I think I begin to understand how you feel about the incident at the vow renewal, Lorelai," he added softly.

"What!" Emily shrieked. "What does that mean?"

Lorelai smiled at her father and then turned back to Emily, knowing she had to get this over with. "Mom, why do you think Gran wrote that letter?"

"Why?" Emily spat. "Because she hated me and didn't think I was good enough to marry into her family, that's why!"

"Are you sure?" Lorelai kept her voice gentle. "Are you sure she wasn't just expressing her concern about the direction her son's life was taking?"

Rory, watching closely, could only think, Wow, Mom!

Emily gaped at her daughter. "You can't possibly be comparing me to her!" she shrieked. "No, I'm not," Lorelai countered. After a pause she added, "I don't think what Gran did was as bad."

"Oh, this is outrageous!" her mother stormed.

"Think about it, Mom," Lorelai commanded. "All Gran did was offer an opinion. If she had 'expressed her concern' the same way you did at your vow renewal, she would have had Pennilyn Lott standing on the church steps the morning of your wedding, begging Dad to run away with her."

Emily could only stare at her, mouth agape, completely speechless.

Lorelai continued swiftly and softly. "Do you remember how humiliated you felt when you found that letter, Mom? That's how you made Luke feel that night. If you didn't like that being done to you—how could you possibly justify inflicting the same kind of pain on another person?"

Emily's cheeks flushed with color. "I can't believe you brought up that letter," she muttered.

"I didn't want to," Lorelai said regretfully. "But I just couldn't see any other way to get through to you and make you see how you treat people. You never want to hear anything about other people's feelings."

"Oh, that does it," Emily suddenly said in disgust. "I've had enough. I'm going upstairs." She threw down her napkin and rose from her chair.

Richard was immediately on his feet. "Sit down, Emily," he commanded.

His wife stared at him in shock. "What did you say?"

"I said sit down and stay here."

"Richard, I can't believe that you said that! Haven't I taken enough humiliation for one night?"

Richard remained very calm. "Emily, you're my wife and I love you. I truly do. But I've also realized from what I've heard tonight that I've been looking the other way for too long. I've refused to see the things that you were doing that were hurting our girls, especially Lorelai. I've hurt them too, and I deeply apologize," he directed to the two younger women. "All this tonight has been hard to hear, but ultimately I'm glad, because now I can modify my behavior to make sure I don't hurt them any more. Lorelai is right, Emily—none of us have been really honest with each other and it's created problems for us for years. I think it's time some changes were made. And I think they have to start with you."

His wife stared at him. "I can't believe what you're saying," she shrieked.

"Believe it, Emily. I mean it." He paused and looked at her sadly but with his chin held firmly. "I lost fifteen years of my daughter's and granddaughter's lives because. . . because of attitudes you held and things you did."

She glanced at him sharply and Lorelai drew in her breath. It seemed very clear to Rory that something had not been said there.

"I'm not going to risk losing any more time with them. I believe them when they say they're fed up and will walk out of our lives if changes aren't made in the way we treat them and the people around them. And I'm not going to allow that to happen."

Emily was silent, glaring at him.

He leaned forward. "Think of it, Emily," he said urgently. "Lorelai is finally getting married. She will have a new stepdaughter for us to love and maybe do things for. There might be more grandchildren, and perhaps Rory will be having children in a few years. Are you really willing to risk losing the potential of—all that joy? Just because you refuse to give up your antiquated fantasies about what Lorelai's life should be, and to accept her for the lovely woman she's become? No, I don't think you really want to do that," he concluded, watching her carefully. "I dearly hope you don't."

Emily stared at him for a few more moments, and then slowly sank back into her seat and picked up her napkin. Richard sat down too, and glanced at his daughter. He found himself melting into the most loving and grateful look that he had ever seen shine out of her eyes. After a moment, he smiled too, tenderly and lovingly. And in that moment, a new level of understanding was reached between father and daughter.

Round Two appeared to be over.

They continued to eat in silence until they all pushed away their plates. Lorelai and Rory glanced at each, both looking wary but hopeful. Richard was covertly watching Emily, whose head was bent over her plate unmoving, avoiding eye contact with the other three in the room.

The maid came in to clear the dishes and serve dessert. After she left, Emily cleared her throat and looked up. There was a gleam in her eye.

"Well, I've certainly heard some interesting things here this evening. I have a very good idea of what you all think of me."

"Now, Emily, don't. . ." her husband began.

She went on as if he hadn't spoken. "I can hear very clearly that you don't want me to 'butt into' your lives without an engraved invitation. Very well—I won't. Including having any input whatsoever as to where you live, Lorelai."

She raised her chin and looked directly at her daughter. "You can forget about us buying you a house. The deal is off," she proclaimed triumphantly.