CHAPTER FOUR- Waking Up and Walking Away
She listened to the messages only once, deleting each of the fifteen messages he'd sent, her self-loathing growing with every word that bounded tinnily from the small answering machine.
How was it, Rory wondered, a machine so small could hold a secret so big?
She'd slept like the dead, cried herself into exhaustion with her mother sitting by her bed, stroking her hair. She remembered Lorelai telling her everything would be all right, that it always was, then the faraway, intermittent ring of the telephone, only barely disturbing her sleep.
And now she saw the reason for all those rings in the night, in the morning, during the day.
Fifteen calls from Dean, and four from Jason Stiles.
Rory would have felt sorry for her mother if she didn't feel so damned numb.
But numb or no, it was her mother she first thought of after listening to all those messages from a married man with whom she'd made the biggest mistake of her life so far.
She needed to see her mom, so she headed for the inn.
"Now there's a fine sight to behold." Walking around the square with Babbette, taking just a little fresh air, Patty clutched her hands to her chest and watched Luke run full-tilt across the town square toward his diner, Sookie bustling along at a lagging pace behind him, a stack of cards waving in one hand.
"You know," Babbette said, narrowing her eyes, "It seems like just yesterday he was still playin' football at the high school. Made all the girls sit up and take notice, that one."
"I wonder why he's running," Patty said slyly, casting a knowing glance at her friend.
"Maybe he found somethin' worth running for," Babbette laughed, and they shared the moment, companionable, and wishing the best for the woman they'd come to love, the woman who had come so long ago with hurt in her eyes and the first tastes of freedom in her mouth.
Lorelai Gilmore had come a long way. Now she just had to stand still and let the rest come to her.
"Move," Luke commanded one of his customers, not giving half a damn for customer service right this second. Chances were they were out-of-towners, anyway, and they were never planning on coming back. "Lorelai!"
"She's gone." Cesar had rehearsed nearly a hundred different ways to deliver that particular news to his boss—it didn't take Albert Einstein to know Luke was crazy about her, and after all, the lady had spent the night, and more power to the boss for that—but he figured the best way was to be direct.
He was questioning the wisdom of that decision as Luke's face turned a dangerous shade of magenta.
"Gone," Luke repeated, and a fool would have taken that flat, quiet tone at face value. Cesar was no fool, and he heard the anger underneath.
"Hey, don't look at me. Lorelai doesn't take orders very well." Cesar shifted from foot to foot and looked at Luke. Thinking only of his own survival, he pointed out the door. "She went that way. Took one of your coffee mugs, too—"
Luke cursed under his breath and wondered if there would ever be a time when he wasn't chasing Lorelai some way or another. He headed back out the doors, shoving the same customer he'd accosted on his way in and nearly mowing Sookie down.
"I can't keep up with you!" she said plaintively, fanning herself with the stack of cards. "Where's Lorelai?"
"Gone," Luke muttered, "And if you can't keep up with me, don't try."
She was still spluttering when he walked to the next corner, then broke into a jog.
She'd cook something, Sookie thought desperately. She could cook something for Jackson, or something for Rory, or make some tiramisu for Lorelai.
Anything but rocky road cookies, she thought, heading for the comfort of her kitchen. Anything but rocky road cookies for that bastard of a bag boy.
"You want to speak with Dean?" Lindsey's voice bounced into a higher register with her disbelief, her ponytail swinging saucily as she tilted her head at Lorelai, eyes narrowed. "What is this about?"
Lorelai blew a sigh through clenched teeth and took a deep swallow from the mug she'd thoughtlessly lifted from Luke's. She'd been barely awake when the ugly truth of the previous night's events had hit her, and though her first yearning was for blood, or at least answers, none of those things came without coffee to fuel them.
"It's about some work Dean did," she said, thinking it wasn't entirely a lie. "Is he here?"
"He's at work," Lindsey said slowly.
"Oh!" Lorelai laughed, rolling her eyes. "Are you sure about that?" She started to say something, started to let her emotions get ahead of her mouth, started to gesture wildly with the heavy porcelain mug when it was lifted from her hand and held in a large, steady one.
"I'll take that," Luke said, anchoring his free hand around Lorelai's bicep. "Excuse us," he addressed Lindsey in the politest tones he could muster. He felt for the girl, and probably a lot more than Lorelai realized at the moment. If things were as they seemed—and judging by Lorelai's reaction, things were precisely how they seemed—Luke had been in Lindsey's shoes not too long before.
"What are you doing?" he hissed between his teeth as the young woman shut the door and left them alone on the street. "Are you insane?"
Lorelai tugged her arm away from him, glowering and rubbing at the spot where he'd had his hand. He hadn't hurt her—it wasn't likely he had it in him to do that—but she was definitely none too happy about being caught. "Yes," she said defensively. "I am insane, and if you didn't know that, you haven't been paying attention to my behavior every single day I come into your diner." She'd woken up with a good, healthy dose of anger, the same kind of anger that had once driven her to the market after the exact same boy, and it had been the exact same man who calmed her down.
She didn't want to be calm. There was too much room for thought there.
"Give me my damned coffee," she said petulantly, taking it away from him and nearly spilling the hot liquid over her hand and arm. "Why are you here?"
It was a good question, a reasonable one, she thought. It didn't matter how relieved she was to see him, how relieved she'd always been to see him—
Except for these past few days, in which you haven't been relieved, but nervous and excited and fumbling and idiotic…
—she still wanted to know why he was there.
"To get you, why else would I be here?" Luke could see the wheels turning in her head as he drew her away from the house and back toward the inn, wanting a comfort zone, a neutral spot for when she figured out…
"How the hell did you know to come here?" she asked, her voice growing shrill. He knew, dammit, somehow he knew. And if he knew, other people knew.
She'd wanted to keep this one secret for Rory, in this town that held no secrets, she'd wanted no one to know this. Especially not the people who loved Rory the most.
"I just thought you might have headed this way, okay?" he shouted back, definitely not wanting to tell her what he suspected here, on the street, in the middle of town. "If there's something going on, I'm not going to force it from you, Lorelai. If you want to tell me, you will."
She blinked at him owlishly then rolled her eyes. "Well, there's nothing going on, so I don't have to want to tell you anything. I'm going back to the inn, and then I'm going home." She could feel herself pushing at him, pushing as she always did, but it needed to be her and Rory right now. Rory needed her, and anyone else was just going to get in the way.
So she broke away from him and walked in the opposite direction, her steps long and measured as she retraced her steps in reverse.
Past the diner, to the inn, and then she would go home.
If only time could go backwards so easily.
Luke closed his eyes and blew out a breath. Dammit, Lorelai, can't you ever take a hand up when it's offered?
If she helped Rory, then who was helping Lorelai?
"You still have my coffee mug!" he yelled down the street, and found it didn't make him feel one bit better.