Disclaimer: The characters of Gilmore Girls do not belong to me, they are the property of ASP and other affiliates. The story line that I'm using is from the book Message in a Bottle, by Nicholas Sparks, which I hold no ownership of either. I will use some other quotes and descriptions from it in this story. I'm directly quoting the letter from Message in a Bottle.
A/N: *waves wand* Ta -da! Here's the new installment! *sigh* If it were only easy as waving a wand. Thanks so much to all of you who reviewed! I'm smiling like an idiot because of them. Wow! I didn't expect so many, but I'm not complaining! :D
Shout outs: To Elise and the lovely Katie (IcePrincess) for giving me awesome, yet truthful feedback! To Stargirl for checking this for me. Thanks! BTW, go check out all their work! It rocks!
Enjoy!
Priya
****
July 22, 2007My Dearest Christine,
I miss you, baby, as I always do, but today is especially hard because the oceans have been singing to me, and the song is that is of our life together. I can almost feel you beside me as I write this letter, and I can smell the scent of wildflowers that always reminds me of you. But at this moment, these things give me no pleasure. Your visits have been coming less often, and I feel sometimes as if you are the greatest part of who I am is slowly slipping away.
I am trying, though. At night when I am alone, I call for you, and whenever my ache seems to be the greatest, you still seem to find a way to return to me. Last night, in my dreams, I saw you on the pier near Wrightsville Beach. The wind was blowing through your hair, and your eyes held the fading sunset. I am struck as I see you leaning against the rail. You are beautiful, I think as I see you, a vision that I can never find in anyone else. I slowly begin to walk towards you, and when you finally turn to me, I notice that others have been watching you as well. "Do you know her?" they ask me in jealous whispers, and as you smile at me, I simply answer the truth. "Better than my own heart."
I stop when I reach you and take you into my arms. I long for this moment more than any other. It is what I live for, and when you return my embrace, I give myself over to this moment, at peace once again.
I raise my hand and gently touch your cheek and you tilt your head and close your eyes. My hands are hard and your skin is soft, and I wonder for a moment if you'll pull back, but of course you don't. You never have, and it's at times like this that I know my purpose in life.
I am here to love you, to hold you in my arms, to protect you. I am here to learn from you and to receive your learn in return. I am here because there is no other place to be.
But then, as always, the mist starts to form as we stand close to one another. It is a distant fog that rises from the horizon, and I find that I grow fearful as it approaches. It slowly creeps in, enveloping the world around us, fencing us in as if to prevent escape. Like a rolling cloud, it blankets everything, closing, until there is nothing left but the two of us.
I feel my throat begin to close and my eyes well up with tears because I know that it is time for you to go. The look that you give me at that moment haunts me. I feel your sadness and my own loneliness, and the ache in my heart that has been silent for only a short time grows stronger as you release me. And then you spread your arms and step back into the fog because it is your place and not mine. I long to go with you, but your only response is to shake your head because we both know that is impossible.
And I watch with a breaking heart as you slowly fade away. I find myself straining to remember everything, about this moment, everything about you. But soon, always too soon, your image vanishes and the fog rolls back to its faraway place and I am alone on the pier and I do not care what others think as I bow my head and cry and cry and cry.
Michael **** "Have you been crying?" asked Paris, as Rory made her way to the back deck, bottle in hand.
Feeling slightly embarrassed, Rory took a seat, wiping away a few tears. Immediately, Paris reached out and took Rory's hand," Rory, are you okay? What happened? Did you hurt yourself?" Even before Rory could open her mouth, Paris had dragged Jess onto the deck. "Jess, she won't answer me! Tell her to say something!" commanded Paris, her face registering concern.
"Paris, calm down," instructed Jess, pulling a short-sleeved thermal over his head.
"See, this is exactly what I was saying yesterday. You don't take things at all seriously."
"Hey now. I don't wanna talk about that anymore."
"See, you're proving my point right now."
"Well, I'm sorry, oh Ice Queen," retorted Jess, smirking a little upon seeing Paris's expression.
"You are so immature!" accused Paris, sticking out her tongue.
"Says the woman who just stuck out her tongue." Then with a slow smile spreading across his face he walked closer to her, "You know, your tongue can be used for a better purpose than that."
"You think?" asked Paris innocently, giving into his charm.
"I know," he responded, both of them completely forgetting the fact Rory was in the room or the reason she was crying.
Rory silently chuckled to herself; things never changed between those two. Paris and Jess had been dating for two years now. She remembered Paris telling her about their first official date.
Paris wanted to go to a fancy art exhibition and Jess wanted to go boating. They had been arguing for days and finally they decided, but there was a misunderstanding. Somehow he had heard that they were going to the exhibition and she agreed that they were going boating. They had decided to meet at a little Italian place. When they arrived Paris was casually dressed in some jeans and a red top, while Jess was fitted into a tux. At the sight of each other they burst out laughing. They went boating first and Jess fell into the lake, so when they arrived at the exhibit they both looked like fools. One whose clothes were so soaked that they were clinging in a very unprofessional way, and the other who looked like a ragamuffin. Nonetheless, they were fools having fun.
Clearing her throat, Rory gave an indication that she was still in the room. Sharing one last quick kiss, Jess left for his photography class.
Smiling blissfully, Paris asked the reason for Rory's tears.
"Oh, well, ummm…I found this letter and it was so touching that I started to cry. I shouldn't have been so emotional about it. Sorry."
"A letter? Heh. Well, I'm glad that you're okay." She paused for a moment. "It made you cry? Well, what did it say?"
Rory smiled and little and handed Paris the letter. Sitting down on the wrought-iron chair, she felt ridiculous for crying and tried to compose herself.
Paris read the letter slowly, taking all the details in, and when she finished she looked up at Rory. Her eyes were watering as well, and a quavering smile tugged across her face.
"Wow," she finally said. "That was moving."
"That's exactly what I thought," responded Rory.
"I wonder how it washed up on the beach. I mean, the bay is sheltered from the rest of the ocean, and I've never heard of Wrightsville Beach before," the blonde thought out loud.
"It probably washed up last night. I almost walked past it, but then I noticed what it was."
Slowly Paris ran a finger over the fine paper, which scripted finer writing. "I wonder who they are."
"I don't know."
"Well, aren't you curious?"
The truth was that Rory was extremely curious. Immediately after reading it the first time, she read it again, and then a third time. She wondered how it would be like to have someone love her that way.
"Yeah," she confessed, "a little bit. But it's not like we'll ever find out."
"What are you going to do with it?" questioned Paris.
"Keep it, probably."
"Hmmm," Paris said simply with an indecipherable smile. "How did the jogging go?"
"It was nice and it felt good having some time to myself. I saw the sun rise; it was beautiful. It looked like the whole world was glowing," told Rory, sipping some cranberry juice that she had poured.
"That's just because you were dizzy from lack of oxygen. You know, jogging can do that to you," remarked Paris smugly.
Rory smiled, amused. "So, I assume you won't come with me this week?"
"You assume right. My exercising is limited to vacuuming the house every weekend that is if I ever find the damn thing. Can you imagine me huffing and puffing out there?"
"Actually, I can," chuckled Rory. "And Paris, let me be the first to tell you that you're not the greatest running companion."
Paris gave a little pout. "Hey! I find that highly offensive. You are no longer my friend." Both girls shared a smile before getting down to business. "So what is on the agenda today, Gilmore?"
Just as Rory was about to respond, Paris cut her off. "If it has anything to do with root beer, Vikings, or inviting the low lives and bikers to trash the place, count me out."
"Now Paris, when have I ever had you do something involving those things?" asked Rory innocently, draining her glass of the juice. "Actually, I was thinking we do a little shopping and have lunch in town. How does that sound?"
"Sounds pretty good to me." The two women talked about the places that they wanted to visit, and Paris started making a few graphs and maps. She was routing the way that would be the fastest and easiest for them to get everything done. This time, Rory didn't even protest; she had gotten used to Paris's odd methods of doing things. Then, she got up and went inside for a cup of coffee. When she came back, Paris was holding the letter. Suddenly, her eyebrows rose like she had just triggered something in her memory.
Rory sat down her coffee mug in hand. "What is it?"
"I'm just thinking…"she said quietly.
"About?"
"Well, while you were inside an idea popped up in my head. I was wondering if we should run this letter in your column this week. I would run it in mine, but you found it."
"What are you talking about?"
Paris leaned across the table,"Just what I said." This time she spoke slowly, enunciating each word,"I think we should run this letter in your column this week. I'm sure that other people would love to read it as well. People need to read something like this once in a while. And this is so touching. I can picture a hundred woman cutting it out and taping it to their refrigerators so their husbands can see it when they get home from work."
"Paris, we don't even know who they are. Plus, we should get their permission first before printing something as personal as this in the paper."
"That's just the point, Rory. We can't get their permission. I can talk to the attorney at the paper, but I'm sure it's legal. As long as we don't use their real names and don't take credit for writing or divulge where it might be from. I'm sure it would be all right."
Rory thought for a while before responding. "I know that it is probably legal, but is it right? I mean, printing such a personal letter in a paper for everyone to read?"
"It's a human interest story, Rory. People love these kind of things. This is a beautiful letter, and there isn't anything dirty or embarrassing in it. And remember… this Michael person sent in a bottle in the ocean. He knew that it couldn't just float around forever. It would have to wash up somewhere, and someone would read it."
"I'm still not sure…"
"Rory, I think this is a great idea, and I want the both of us to agree. Just think about."
****
Rory did think about it as she got into the shower. She found herself wondering about the man who wrote it---Michael, if that was his real name. And who, if anyone was Christine? Obviously, his wife or lover, but she wasn't around anymore. Was she dead, Rory pondered, or did something else occur to break them up? And why was the letter sent in a bottle and sent adrift? The whole thing was odd. Then, her reporter's instincts took over her, and suddenly she thought that it could mean nothing. It could be someone just wanting to write a love letter, or it could be sent by a vicarious thrill that wanted to make women cry on beaches. But as the words swirled around her head, she knew that it was true. The letter came from the heart. And to think that a man wrote it! She had never received anything even close to that letter. She had read all stuff that Jess wrote, but they were never like this.
She poured some shampoo on her head, lathering and rinsing it. The question slipped her mind as the cool water beads rolled down her skin. She washed the rest of her body with a scrubber and moisturizing soap. When she felt her skin getting wrinkly, she knew that she had been in the shower long enough and quickly slipped out of the stall. Wrapping a fluffy towel around her body she looked at herself, steamy in the mirror.
She had a great complexion, her alabaster skin shone, as she reached for her toothbrush. She squirted just the right amount of toothpaste and started brushing. She had always been complimented on her skin and eyes. She had large blue piercing eyes. They were so blue that she often got startled when she looked in mirrors. Random people even came up to her in grocery stores and asked her if she wore contacts. She spit and then gargled with some minty mouthwash, and flashed one of her dazzling smiles. Seth used to say that her smile brightened everyone's day. Taking her hairbrush out of a drawer she slowly began untangling her hair, which hung limp in little clumps. She brushed it until it was straight and shiny, and decided that the wind could dry it.
Sauntering over to her closet she pulled out a deep red top and a pair of comfy denim shorts. It would be hot and humid in another hour or so, and she wanted to be comfortable as she explored Provincetown. Seeing that the sun was already shining brightly, she made a mental note to pick up some sunscreen. From previous experience she knew that sunburns were a great way to ruin vacations.
Heading outside on the deck, Paris had breakfast ready on the table. There were strawberries and grapefruit, along with toasted bagels. They ate quickly, then headed out for the long day ahead of them.
Shopping with Paris was quite an experience.
Once they finally managed to get to Provincetown, they spent the whole morning and afternoon there. Everything had to be done strategically. If things went out of order Paris would get very upset. They followed the mapped routes, until Rory got bored and decided to have some fun. They would be in shops that were decent enough Paris-wise, and Rory would catch her holding a simple shirt in front of the mirrors. And would say things like, "Oooh, Paris, that looks pretty steamy. Hmm, I wonder if Jess would go for the look." Rolling her eyes, Paris would quickly hang it in its former location, and would drag Rory out of the store. That was the only way to get Paris out of boring stores.
Rory finally found four outfits and a swimsuit that suited her. Paris ended up buying a lacy dress that would have never left the rack if Rory hadn't threatened to expose Paris's dark college secrets. As they were about to leave, Rory spotted a music store and made a mad dash before Paris could stop her. Once inside, Rory got Incubus and a jazz CD of John Coltrane's earlier records. Skimming the racks and finding nothing else of substance, she went to look for Paris. Paris was already purchasing something when Rory found her. When asked what it was Paris wouldn't even open her mouth, finally after a game of tug-of-war on the Rory saw that it was the latest N*Sync CD.
"Justin is cute," explained Paris sheepishly.
Rory burst out laughing at the thought of Ms. No-Nonsense-Paris Gellar having a secret crush on Justin Timberlake.
Rory comforted Paris by responding, "Don't worry Paris. Everyone is allowed to have guilty pleasure once in a while, but wait till Jess hears about this."
When they returned, Jess was watching Court TV in the living room.
"Hey," he mumbled his eyes glued to the TV.
"Oh really? Honey, is there something that you haven't told me?" asked Paris walking into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She had been sweltering in the sun and desperately needed something cool.
"She doesn't look too bad after her plastic surgery," reasoned Jess, eyes still fixed on the TV. That comment resulted in him getting slapped by the fully hydrated Paris.
"Oww!" he yelped rubbing his head. "That hurt. There was no need for violence."
"At least it managed to break the oh so loving look that you were giving the TV, and she never had plastic surgery," growled Paris.
"Jess, I've noticed that you never give Paris that look anymore," noted Rory, shoving a handful of popcorn down her mouth.
"Is it that obvious? Well, the reason for that is her snoring. It's wretched!"
"Oh, I know what you're talking about," put in Rory. "She also does this mouth thing when she's sleeping. It kind of reminds me of a goat chewing."
"Oh that thing,"chimed in Jess.
"I have ears, y'know."
"Yes, we do know, Paris," Rory smiled sweetly as the other girl glared.
After a few more minutes of light bantering, Rory left them alone for the rest of the afternoon. The day was still warm and she decided to do something. Quickly changing into her swimsuit, she grabbed her towel, a People magazine and a small fold up chair and headed for the beach.
She thumbed idly through the magazine, reading a few articles and skimming through the rest, not really interested in the lives of the rich and the famous. She could hear noise all around her. Children laughing and splashing in the water. Some building sand castles, some eating dripping popsicles, or others just running around squealing gleefully. The rhythmic lapping of the waves was very soothing. She put finally her magazine down and closed her eyes, angling her face towards the sun.
She wanted a little tan by the time she got back home to work, if for no other reason to look as if she took some time to just lie around and do absolutely nothing. She was always regarded as a workaholic. If she wasn't working on her weekly column, she was working on the one for Sunday editions, or researching on the net, or poring over children developmental journals.
Her column was never predictable---no one knew what was in store for the week. Perhaps that was a reason why it was so successful. At first, she and Paris shared a column but then Paris had gotten a column of her own. Rory sometimes answered questions in her column, gave advice, and reported on the latest development child data. Her column had turned her into a local celebrity of some kind.
After an hour or so in the sun, Rory became hot and slowly walked into the water. She waded in hip deep and went under as a small wave came her way. She stayed a few more minutes in the water; feeling refreshed. Looking around she saw that people were leaving and decided she should get back too. She picked up her things and started heading back. **** When she got back Paris and Jess had gone for a walk along the beach and she settled down to read. She looked up at the clock--6 o'clock. They had been gone for a long while, and a little shiver went up her spine when she thought what could have happened to them. She immediately chided herself for thinking of stupid scenarios, but was still relieved when she saw them in the distance from the window. She watched them coming as the strolled hand-in hand along the water's edge. Sometimes it was still odd to her that Jess and Paris were together.
When they returned, the three of them drove down to Hyannis and had dinner at Sam's Crab house, a great restaurant that lived up to its reputation. It was jam-packed; they had to wait an hour just to get seats, but when the food arrived, it was worth it. The steamed crabs had been placed in front of them and the butter had been flavored with garlic. Paris had to eat the crabs without butter because she was lactose intolerant. Rory and Jess ate slowly savoring every bit of it, letting out moans of pleasure at how delicious it was with the butter. They enjoyed making Paris mad. Towards the end of dinner, Jess said something about the letter that Rory had found.
"I read it after I got back from the photography class. Paris hung it up on the fridge."
"Yeah, I found it washed up on the beach."
Finishing his drink he continued, "It was some letter. It really came from the heart."
"Jess, do you know where Wrightsville Beach is?" asked Paris, wiping off his face with napkin.
"Actually, I do. It's in North Carolina," he responded pushing the napkin away. "How could I forget it? It was senior year and some other guys and me planned to go there because we wanted to meet this girl. One of the guys had chatted with her for about a year and wanted to see her in real life. She was some girl. It turned out that she didn't like the guy that came to see her, and made her move on me. Wow, she made a good move. She…" he trailed off, realizing what he was saying. He turned to face Paris and she was giving him the look of death. "Heh, umm…"
"Save it Jess. We'll talk about it later," she said quietly.
"Anyway," continued Rory ignoring them, "where in North Carolina?"
Jess didn't bother to look up again. He was afraid of Paris' glare. He started playing with the corners of the napkin and responded, "Near Wilmington---or actually it might even be part of it. If you're driving it's about an hour and a half from Myrtle Beach. Have you ever heard of the movie 'Cape Fear', Rory?"
"Yes."
"Well, the Cape Fear River is in Wilmington, and that's where the two movies were set. Actually, a lot of movies are filmed there; usually beach related ones. However, it doesn't get as much attention as Myrtle Beach, but it's popular down in the south."
Paris spoke with a hint of mischief in her tone. "Now we know where Michael is from."
"Maybe, he just vacationed there or visited. There isn't a way to know for sure."
Paris shook her head. "Nope. Think about the way the letter was written---it seems so real, the dream, to include a place that he visited once or twice."
Rory smiled. "You've thought a lot about this haven't you?"
"They're called instincts, Rory. You learn to go with them, and I bet that he probably lives near Wilmington or in it himself. So what do you think about publishing the letter?"
"Still not sure."
"How about we use their initials and not their names."
"Why are so willing to do this?" asked Rory carefully.
"Because I know a good story when I see one. Plus, this will be very meaningful to a lot of people. Nowadays, some people are too busy for romance," she gave Jess a sharp nudge in the ribs as she said that. "This letter proves that this can all happen."
After a while, Rory slowly responded, "Fine."
"You'll do it?"
"Yeah, but we use their initials and cut out the part about Wrightsville Beach. I'll write a couple of sentences introducing it, okay?"
"Great! We'll fax it tonight," said Paris with a victorious smile on her face. **** The next morning Rory got up early and went straight for the newspaper.
Two days ago, while I was on vacation, I was listening to some old songs on the radio and heard Sting singing "Message in a Bottle". Spurred to action by his impassioned crooning, I raced to the beach to find a bottle of my own. Within minutes I found one, and sure enough, it had a message in it. (Actually, I didn't hear the song first: I made that up for dramatic effect. But I did find a bottle the other morning with a deeply moving message inside.) I haven't been able to get it off my mind, and although it isn't something that I'd normally write about, in a time where everlasting love and commitment seem to be in such a short supply, I was hoping you would find it as meaningful as I did.
The rest of the column was fully devoted to the letter. When Paris joined Rory for breakfast, she read the column before looking at anything else. "I'm glad that you decided to do this. You'll be getting a lot of mail from this letter. Oh, and I'll call Dan and see if he can get this published in the Sunday edition as well." **** Rory arrived at Boston on late Sunday night, which was 9 days after her vacation. As soon as she unlocked the apartment door Cleo came running to her. She rubbed against her leg and gave a big meow. Rory picked her up, "Well, a big hello to you too, Ms. Cleo!" Rory said brightly. She went and laid out some food for Cleo and she began eating, grateful that her neighbor, Elise, took care of Cleo. After she was done eating she found her favorite spot on the couch and fell asleep.
After she finished unpacking and picking up her keys and mail from Elise, she made some coffee and popped in the John Coltrane CD she had bought shopping with Paris. She propped her feet on the coffee table and started looking through the mail. Groaning upon seeing only bills and junk mail, she lazily placed them on the table and got up to check her messages. There were 3 messages from Lorelai asking where the hell she was, and in the third one Lorelai remembered that she was vacationing, then immediately called her cell. There was one from Lane and another from Miss Patty. Deciding she was too tired to chat with any of them, she went into her bedroom and crawled into her bed. As soon as she felt the support of her pillow she drifted off to sleep. **** When she got back to work on Monday she was shocked by all the mail on her desk. There were about 200 letters and 50 more came with the postman that day. Paris had come by to check on her and when she saw the mail she said proudly," I told you so."
Rory asked for all of her calls to be put on hold, and she started opening the overwhelming mail right away. Most of the letters were from women, but there were a decent number from men as well. She read how the letter had touched them all. A few women suggested that if the man was single, they wanted to marry him, and many asked her if she knew who the writer was.
She discovered that almost every Sunday edition across the country had run this column, and letter came as far as Los Angeles. A few men claimed that they wrote the letter, but when she compared the handwriting she knew it wasn't them.
For lunch she went to her favorite Chinese restaurant, and got comments from others dining there. "My wife taped it to the refrigerator," one man said, which made Rory laugh out loud. She made a mental note to inform Paris.
By the end of the day she was almost done with the stack of letters and was about to take a break when her phone rang.
It was the newspaper's receptionist, Susan.
"Hey Rory. I know that you told me to hold your calls, which by the way may I say was very hard, you got about 65 calls today. But there is this one woman who keeps on calling. This is the sixth time she called me today and she called 3 times last week. By now, I even recognize her voice, but she won't give her name and she really wants to talk to you."
"Can't you just take a message?"
"I have tried to do that, several times, believe me, but she's persistent. She keeps telling me to put her on hold until you have a minute to talk with her. She says that she's calling long distance, and it's really important that she talks to you."
"Can you give me a phone number of where I can reach her?"
"No, she doesn't even want to tell me that."
"Do you know what she wants, Susan?"
"I have no clue. But she sounds coherent--unlike the other people who've been calling today. I mean one guy even proposed to me."
At that Rory laughed, "Okay, tell her to hold on. I'll be there in a few."
"Okie dokie."
"Oh, what line is she on?"
"Five."
"Thanks, Susan."
For some reason Rory was nervous to take this call. She chided herself, but the goose bumps along with that strange feeling wouldn't go away. It was then, that she picked up the phone, and took the call that that played a big part in her life. And she knew she was about to change…
To Be Continued… ****
A/N: Whew! I don't think I've ever written a chapter this long. But stop smiling 'cause I'm not going to be writing long chapters like this anymore. No, no, no--too tiring for little me. How do all of you long- chapter -writer -people do it? Yes, I know that I'm very cruel leaving you hanging but my fingers were about to fall off. Anywhoo, I'm sorry to inform that the next update will NOT be anytime soon 'cause school has started. What? You say you want me to write more? Well, if somehow you can manage to close my school, I will gladly write more. Who is the letter from? How will it affect Rory? Will she meet another unexpected person? Well, you ill just have to wait and see. :D
So, what did you think of this so far? Like it? Hate it? Well, if you have the time please drop me a line and tell me what you think. It's greatly appreciated and who knows? The next chapter might come sooner. Thanks!
Priya :D