AN: Just wanted to pop in and thank everyone who has left reviews to say you're enjoying this story. Love the encouragement, as always. Hope you enjoy this installment as well.
After pulling up outside the looming mansion the second time she'd traveled to Hartford on this spring day, she sat in her car for a good ten minutes, willing the right words to come to her. She could talk of the good times they'd had, all of them being as strong as ever in her memory, trying to get him to remember the love he had for her once. Reminding him of good before she delved into the hellish. After all, she had to tell him all the information that he was missing, as he'd done for her. She knew that.
Her hesitation came from the fact that it would be easier for him not to know, as it would have been for her.
Doing this would only hurt him, and they'd both been hurt enough for one lifetime. Just because she believed he had the right to know, didn't mean he would really want to. Now wishing she'd stopped somewhere, anywhere, for coffee, she left the safety of her car and slowly approached the door. What she really wished was that Luke would hurry back, because the coffee at the diner was lacking with his absence, and she needed the caffeine to keep her going most days now.
Nothing was the same since her mother had been in the hospital.
As always in this area of Hartford, she expected a servant of some kind to open the door, and she was more than surprised to see a familiar face staring back at her when it swung open.
"Janlan," she said, still staring in surprise.
"Rory, my dear, how are you?"
The older man pulled her into his embrace as if not a day had passed between their last meeting. She was glad for the comfort from him, as he was someone she'd always liked and admired. He was like a second grandfather to her. Tristan's entire family had treated her like one of their own, just as Tristan had been embraced by all the people in her world. Well, with one notable exception, that is.
The idea of seeing Janlan hadn't occurred to her, nor had the idea that he might not accept her after the pain that he'd seen Tristan go through on her account. It was an afterthought as she began to pull away from him.
"I'm okay. Been better."
"I was so sorry to hear about your mother. Richard called when it got bad, last week. I'm afraid I was the one to call Tristan—I hope you aren't upset with me about that."
She smiled. "No, not at all. In fact, I've come here to see him."
"Oh, well, I'm afraid he's gone out for the day. You're welcome to come in and keep me company, if you'd like."
She nodded, grateful for the invitation. If she went back home, memories of her mother and well-meaning townspeople would be there, pulling her deeper into her grief. He allowed her entrance and they moved to the sitting room.
"I'm afraid it's the maid's day off, but I can get you some coffee if you'd like."
"You remembered."
He chuckled. "It's quite a thing to forget, I don't think I've ever seen someone with such a strong addiction in my life."
"One I've had since before birth," she nodded, an uncomfortable pause added at the end. It seemed so normal before, to speak of her life, but now she was realizing how much of her life was tied to her mother.
"Have a seat, dear, I'll be right back."
She moved to the sofa, sitting down on the worn leather, and kicked off her shoes so she could pull up her stocking-covered feet under her. She looked down the hall, and just as before, the open door to Janlan's study was visible. On the wall over his desk were family pictures, including one of her and Tristan outside of Chilton in their gowns and mortar boards. It was the last day anyone would have had the opportunity to photograph the two of them together, and so many had.
She'd just never had the opportunity to see the results of any of them until now.
"Here you are," he came back in with two mugs of steaming hot liquid. "Black okay?"
"Perfect."
"I was going to try to make it to the services, but Tristan insisted that he go alone. He didn't want to make a spectacle of his presence."
She nodded. "He didn't even come up to me at the funeral."
The older man said nothing, but took a pause before sipping his coffee. "He's gone to Boston, on a job hunt."
"Oh."
"He's a bit lost right now, I'm afraid. Has been," he eyed her carefully, not sure how much to push into this line of conversation.
"I know the feeling."
"So, what have you been up to in these last years?"
"I've been with the Peace Corps for the last few. I went to Yale first, then left for Africa immediately after. I've just been back the last two years, really."
"Most of which spent with your mother, I would presume?"
Rory nodded. "As soon as we found out she was sick, I moved up from New York to be with her. She tried to stop me, but I couldn't have lived with myself if I hadn't."
"It's a hard thing to watch. Tristan's grandmother went through that, just two years before he met you."
"I know." She'd thought of that the first thing when the doctor had said the words cervical cancer in his office. She'd sat on one side of her mother, Luke on the other, him having closed down the diner that day to come along despite Lorelai's protests.
She'd been glad to have him there later.
"Is this too much, talking about it?"
She shook her head. "I'm getting used to it."
"I'm afraid that isn't really possible. They say it gets easier, but really all that happens is more time passes and life gets back to the forefront of your mind."
It was almost a relief to have someone speak the truth to her about loss. Everyone else had been telling her that time heals all wounds, when she knew better than that anyhow.
"Can I ask you a question?"
He nodded, interested to see what exactly was on her mind. Tristan had looked so drawn, so wrung-out after his visit with her. He'd been gone all night, but didn't really elaborate on what had occurred between them.
"Did you talk to my grandparents, after the accident?"
Janlan looked down, letting out a deep breath. "I tried. I called, and talked to Richard. He would only say that it was best for the time being if Tristan stayed away from the hospital. That your mother was fragile, you were resistant to treatment, and Emily was livid."
She nodded. "It took a long time for me to recover."
"It was no different for Tristan."
She looked up at him, compassion filling her eyes. "I wanted him there."
"I know."
She sighed, taking a long drink of coffee. "When will he return?"
"He didn't say. Would you like to call his cell phone?"
"Is it okay if I just wait here for him?"
"He may not return until tomorrow. Not that you aren't welcome to stay over tonight. God knows I have the room and would love the company."
"Really?"
"I can imagine that going back home wouldn't be comforting for you right now. Is there anyone there with you?"
"No. Tristan stayed last night with me," she said, casting her eyes down. Somehow she still felt sixteen all over again, not free to discuss such things with adults.
"He wants to be there for you."
She smiled, wondering how much longer that would be the case. "I don't know what I would have done so far, without him there."
"Surely there have been others there for you," he probed.
"Well, Luke—my mother's boyfriend—couldn't really handle the funeral. He's gone for a while, clearing his head, grieving. He's not a very public person. My father came down, but he's in his own pain as well, and needed to get back to Boston."
"I see."
"And my ex-husband came, but I sent him away."
He raised his eyebrows at her, but said nothing.
"Connor offered to be with me, but it wasn't—he doesn't understand."
"Not like Tristan does?" Janlan asked knowingly.
"It's just not the same, I don't know how to explain it. It isn't comparable."
"Evidently your mother alluded to that when she came to find Tristan before your wedding. Did he tell you about that visit?"
She nodded. "I had no idea," she said honestly.
"She felt much as I did, I suppose. Knowing that you two should be reunited, but not wanting to openly butt in. When Tristan told me what happened at the hospital, and of Richard asking him to leave as well because it was what you wanted—I smelled something rotten. It just seemed so absurd that you be apart at a time like that."
"I suppose there was nothing anyone could do."
"So, your mother never married?"
She shook her head. "Luke wanted to, but Mom didn't see the point. The lived together, and they'd talked about kids a little, until she got sick. They'd been together just under five years, taking their time. Mom kept telling him they had all the time in the world. Then, they were sort of out of time all of a sudden."
"You never know when the rug might get pulled out from underneath you. I was lucky, I had thirty-seven years with my wife."
"Anyhow, I think she might have given in, if they'd had kids. I guess we'll never know."
"People usually come around with the right person, no matter how they once were. Tristan did, that's for sure. I can't even tell you how many ignorant, simple girls he brought around here. Pretty, well-bred and all, but how he stood the part where they opened their mouths and let words spill out, I'll never know."
Rory laughed, having seen some of them with her own eyes at school.
"Then he brought you around. Immediately I noticed a change in him. You were quite good for him, he really started acting like a man."
"He's a great man."
"You know the first time I really noticed it?"
She shook her head, eager to hear Janlan's story.
"That first Christmas you two shared. He brought you over here for the family party. Do you remember that?"
She nodded. Certain nights would never leave her memory, and that one in particular had been quite a milestone.
"Aren't you bored yet?"
"Are you kidding me? Your mother just promised to whip out the baby books. I'm having a great time."
He groaned. "Seriously, we can head out the back way; no one would notice we left."
"Yes, they would. And what is wrong with you, your family is being wonderful to me."
"Yes, but they're embarrassing the hell out of me."
She rolled her eyes, and kissed his cheek playfully. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tighter against his suit. He brushed his lips against hers, knowing she would be mortified to be caught making out by one of his family members. He attempted to keep it very PG at these parties.
"Don't worry. I won't make very many copies of any bare-butt on the front room rug pictures," she teased him, ruffling his hair.
"Surely Lorelai has embarrassing pictures of you somewhere," he countered.
"Yeah, but I have
the unique advantage that you don't."
"What's that?"
"I have more dirt on her than you do on your parents. We grew up together, she can't rat me out like that."
He laughed. "What kind of stuff do you have on her?"
"Nice try."
"It was worth a shot. How does a guy live down having his mother show the girl he loves pictures of his first year of life, when evidently no one ever bothered to put a stitch of clothing on him?"
She stood still in his embrace, looking at him in near shock. Somewhere she'd lost the journey he was making with the hypothetical question—she'd gotten stuck on the L-word.
This was not a word they'd used with each other.
"Rory?"
"I, uh, sorry. You," she began hesitantly.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. . .Can you even blink?"
"I just didn't expect," she tried again, forcing her eyes to blink, so he'd see she was okay.
"I do, love you I mean, I just hadn't quite meant to say it like that."
She smiled, her breath resuming almost to normal. "You love me?"
He nodded. "I love you," he said it, almost to test it out.
Her smile widened. "I love you, too."
"You aren't going to try to run away if I kiss you right now, are you?"
She shook her head, and he leaned down a little to kiss her, his hand skimming her cheek before coming to rest under her jaw line. They lingered longer in their kisses than she would normally allow in public, not caring if the whole of Hartford walked into the room at this moment.
"I just want you to know, this does not mean I have any intention of skipping out on this party with you," she said jokingly, trying to lighten up the moment a little. Both of their nerves were ignited, the enormity of their exchange both very much in their minds.
"Damn. My plan backfired."
She giggled, and took his hand, leading him back out of the study and into the main room where everyone else was congregated.
"Not to sound like a spy, but I couldn't help but notice how happy my grandson looked with you around. I don't know what was going on in my study, but just the way he interacted with you, the way he carried himself around you. He seemed to be caring more for you and your needs than his own. That was a first."
She didn't want to cry again, and she knew if she attempted to speak, it would happen. She kept her mouth closed and nodded, hoping he would continue.
"Everyone assumed you two would go to Yale and get married."
She nodded again. It would be a lie to say that the idea had never crossed her mind, even if they had never really talked about marriage. It seemed crazy, despite how strongly they felt for each other, as they were only in high school at the time. They both had so much they wanted to do before they got married, and in their naïve youth, they assumed the 'we have our whole lives' attitude.
"In fact, not long before your graduation," he chose that word in place of 'the accident', for which she was grateful, "Tristan talked to me about the possibility."
"He, what?"
"I didn't know if you two had discussed it, but it was definitely in his mind."
She was even more stunned. She sat, holding her now empty coffee cup, and tried to remember to exhale. "I had no idea. We never, it just wasn't something we had mentioned."
He nodded, noting her overwhelmed response. They'd talked about a lot of emotionally charged topics, and she must have had her fill of those days ago.
"It's getting late. Would you like me to show you to his room? You can rest, and wait there for him."
She nodded, more than appreciative for the hospitality that Janlan was extending to her. She would have expected none less from this wonderful man, but she wouldn't have blamed him for being cool to her despite the circumstances either.
She turned to him as he brought her fresh towels and laid them on the bed.
"I just wanted to let you know, he would have turned out to be a good man, with or without me," she paused, putting her hand on the older man's arm. "He's always looked up to you, and sought out to be a man you'd be proud of."
He hugged her again, moved by her kind words. "Let me know if you need anything else, alright?"
"I will. Good night."
"Good night, Rory."
With that, he left her to relax, and she moved over to the bed that Tristan had slept in the night before the funeral. She pulled back the covers and picked up his pillow, holding it to her face. She smelled a light trace of his cologne, and the uniquely masculine scent that she'd once craved so much.
Perhaps she could sleep tonight, even without him truly there.