chapter four

ix.

Perusing People gave Lorelai a sense of calm. She knew that if things were going well in People, then, collectively, the world was going to have a good week. It didn't matter that the magazine was a weekly periodical reporting old news and not a magic newspaper that gave tomorrow's news today; she believed firmly in the mystical powers of People.

To call Luke skeptical was like calling Yale a nice school. Understatement was the term, and derision was Luke Danes's game.

"You're just jealous," Lorelai told him one evening as she simultaneously painted her toenails baby pink and devoured the pages of her glam mag. "People and I, we got a connection. Nothing's ever going to change that, and you're scared."

"Of a magazine, Lorelai?"

"Yes!" she said. "And also of Taylor, but there's crazy little chance of me running off with him, so you're safe there."

"This house is too close to him!"

"Yadda yadda yadda," said Lorelai. "Topic, please? We were discussing your jealousy over a glossy little magazine that never hurt anybody in its life."

Luke threw up his hands in defeat. "At least there are no aliens!" he said.

"Oh, perfect transition into the article I'm reading," Lorelai said, thrusting the magazine into Luke's hands. "Can you imagine the spawn of Bennifer 2.0? Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck's baby will have the thinnest, longest nose ever, and there will be no breasts involved -- at all. Poor baby. It's going to look like a little alien."

Luke squinted down at the picture.

"It will not."

"Will too," affirmed Lorelai with an authoritive air. "Look at her. She never outgrew gawky as a teenager, and I'm not quite sure when Affleck's supposed to hit puberty, but it's not for a few more years at least."

"Okay, maybe if I close one eye and squint the other, I can see a possible baby ET in their future." Luke shoved the magazine back into Lorelai's hands. "And don't tell anybody that I'm playing your games. The other guys will laugh at me."

He needn't have bothered. She was already lost in the magazine again.

"I wonder if they're Scientologists ..." Lorelai mused. "It could explain why they're so clearly not on their home world." Luke had had enough -- she could tell by the way his eyes rolled and the annoyed expression pasted over his face. She grinned. "You're trying to figure out if I'd take you for the house in a divorce, aren't you?"

"I'm actually more worried about the diner," he said. "You'd probably paint it pink with sparkles."

"But Luke -- what about the kids?" She had meant to say it teasingly, but the look that crossed Luke's face then was unfamiliar and strange. She watched him intently for the several seconds it took for him to compose himself and school his features into something resembling normalcy.

That was when she realized that she wasn't ready for another kid and that Luke suspected as much already. Possibly this was when she began to think that maybe he was.

"Ah, geeze, Lorelai, don't give me another heart attack," he said. "You don't know how very ...weirded out I was to see you rummaging through the baby magazines the other day. I have a list called the Not Funny List, and that is at the top."

Lorelai needed a distraction from her own thoughts. It was ridiculous -- when had she ever sat down and thought about whether or not she was ready to have a baby with Luke? When had she even talked with him about the possibility? And now she was have a semi-freak because she thought maybe that they differed in their opinions?

She ran with Luke's comment instead of saying anything. It was easier.

"Do you really have a Not Funny List?" she asked with a flip of her hair. She grabbed the grocer's bag from off the table and held it, hand up and wrist bent backwards, on the tips of her fingers. "'Cause, like, that's so cool. I mean, like, lists are handy and stuff. Y'know?"

"And we have a new number one."

There was a pillow thrown.

x.

On a Wednesday late in the month, Lorelai had a day off from the Dragonfly. In the early afternoon she convinced Luke to leave the diner in Caesar's capable hands, order pizza in, and watch bad movies with her. She'd done the hair toss and the eye flutter thing, and later promised that she'd clean up after her mess. Luke also made her swear that she'd keep her intake of sugar down -- she ended up with a lot of popcorn, no coffee, and coca cola. Not even a milk dud passed her lips.

The first half-hour had been spent alternately affecting a pout on the restrictions and narrating Life with Mikey. By the time she'd put All I Want for Christmas on, she'd gotten over her sulk and fallen silent, engrossed in the film. Thora Birch, she told Luke, was too cute to talk through.

After the movies, she picked up the half a dozen coke cans, shaking every second to see if there were any cola still left in there.

"Yum, flat coke," Lorelai said, taking a sip. "I love it like Bobby and Whitney love real coke."

"Your mother called today."

Lorelai looked up her duties of clearing away the table so swiftly that she wondered briefly if it were possible to give oneself whiplash by the very action of looking up.

"I didn't hear the phone."

And it was true; she'd been home all day doing her part for the house: sewing curtains for the upstairs rooms and trying to decide if there really was any difference in the paint samples that she'd been pouring over for a week.

"She called the diner."

"Where did she get that number?" she mused, more to herself than Luke.

"Rory," Luke said. Lorelai said nothing in reply. "She's sending a wedding gift, and she wanted to be certain that somebody would be home to accept it tomorrow."

"She sent one when we were married." Lorelai gestured in the direction of the kitchen. "The bread maker, remember?"

The insult behind that of course was not directed toward the cooking inept Lorelai but to Luke. As if he couldn't make his own breads from scratch -- and without the help of a machine (the oven? Luke had asked, and Lorelai had waved him off; that didn't count). It hadn't been used, but Luke had unpacked it and set it carefully up on the kitchen counter.

Lorelai thought that Luke was sometimes too polite for his own good (only sometimes, she would smile).

"This is another." Luke's voice was patient where Lorelai's was petulant.

"Two months later?"

"Lorelai, you should call her. She sounded --"

She interrupted him with a violent shake of a half-empty can of cola. A little splashed on her blouse, and she dabbed at herself with a napkin as she spoke.

"Emily sounded like she's using her superpowers of deception to win you over. You sound like it worked."

"Your mother sounded sad. She sounded very sad."

"My mother doesn't get sad, Luke," she said, doing her own version of gloomy forbearance. Lorelai tossed the sodden napkin aside. "She's never been sad. If she ever reaches close to the threshold of sad, she begins a charity project to get her mind off of it. By the time she's booked the hotel dinning room, she's quite calm and content. Writing the check, she's almost happy. Emily Gilmore's therapy is more expensive than if she'd gone to an actual psychiatrist."

The silence in the room was palpable. Lorelai felt that its very tangibility built not a bridge to cover distances between herself and Luke but a wall to sunder them apart. She was very near to tears after her tirade, though she wasn't certain why. Because she and Luke were fighting yet again over her family? Or was it because she and Luke were getting more passionate about the fights?

Or maybe it was because the very subject just wore her to the point of exhaustion; she sighed and reached for Luke. He pulled her into his arms, and they stayed like that for several minutes. She tried to concentrate solely on matching her breathing with his until there was nothing else on her mind. Soon, even that was lost as she listened to the thump of his heart in his chest.

"I'm sorry," Lorelai said.

"Me too. I know how your mom is." He pulled away from her and looked her in the eyes. "Lorelai, if you won't call your mother, you should at least call Rory. That's a relationship that I know like I know you and me."

"Rory doesn't need me to call her. If she really wanted to talk to me, she could call me herself. I'm respecting her wishes, something that Emily Gilmore knows nothing about."

"You know, I'm pretty sure that's the exact same thing she said at the wedding reception," said Luke, smiling at her in a bitter mix of amusement and sorrow. "You two keep saying that if the other makes the first move, you'll talk. One of you has to make that move, Lorelai."

Lorelai stepped back.

"Can we not talk about this right now? I have to pick up Davy from Sookie's at four. He hasn't had a day out by himself since Belle came, and he's feeling sort of lonely. Jackson and I figured that some sugar and caffeine with Auntie Lorelai would cheer him right up."

"Lorelai --"

"Luke, honestly. We'll postpone it." Lorelai touched the side of his face, and his eyes caught hers. She smiled. "Last night, Davy peed on Belle. He's feeling a little neglected."

Luke softened. She knew that he would bring it back up, but she also knew that he understood her need to take it slowly. If he forced things, there very well could be another decade before she and her mother had a civil conversation. She put her hands in his and laced their fingers together.

"You can't just give the kid candy and coffee."

"Coffee? Never! He's at least three years too young," Lorelai admonished. "No, he's getting some cola. Only, I'm calling it root beer, because Sookie knows that root beer is caffeine free."

"You're a terrible aunt."

"Well, Uncle Luke, you could come with us and spend some quality time in the park," she offered. "I got him late enough that he's already exhausted -- I made Sookie move his naptime up a half hour, and you wouldn't believe how much that quiets kids up later in the evening."

"If they take it."

Lorelai opened her mouth and shut up with an audible snap.

"Crap. Cranky kid, aisle three."

They were in luck -- when they arrived at Sookie's house, she told them that he had indeed lain down for his nap and slept through it. Davy did seem to run around with a little lag, and Lorelai wasted no time in scooping the racer to her for a big hug.

"Auntie Lorelai!" exclaimed Davy. "Uncle Luke!"

He broke away from Lorelai and ran straight for Luke. He solemnly held out a hand, and Luke took it in his own and shook it.

"Hey, Dave," he said.

"Hey," replied the little boy, just as gruffly.

Sookie laughed delightedly, clapping her own two hands together.

"If that isn't the most adorable thing in the world, I don't know what is," she said, pulling out her camera. "Stay there for just a second -- " and before Luke was at all certain what was happening, Sookie had taken half a dozen pictures of him and Davy in a handshake.

"Aw, geeze," said Luke, dropping Davy's hand and fixing Lorelai with a beseeching look.

"Sookie!" chided Lorelai. "Luke is not adorable. Luke is manly. He's a manly man. He fixes houses and shakes hands. He drinks beer. Adorable men do not drink beer."

"Jackson's cousin Trey drinks beer," she pointed out. "And he's a man's man if you catch my drift."

Jackson hurried in from the kitchen with a small bag in his hands. Lorelai suspected that it was filled with snakes for Davy -- she'd have to ditch those at her house before they went out to eat delightfully anti-nutritional things at Al's.

"It doesn't count if the beer is imported and has a fancy name," he said, handing the basket to Lorelai. He turned to Luke. "Hey! Didn't know you were here!" And Jackson pulled Luke into half a hug. "There's enough in there to feed you all, plus enough to last us through the next famine."

"Oh, Jackson," Sookie said, "there is not."

Jackson caught Lorelai's eye and mouthed that, yes, there certainly was. She grinned at him as she bent down to pick up Davy.

"Oomph," she said. "You're getting heavier. Next thing we know, you'll be driving a car."

The three of them managed to maneuver their way out of the house in record time, tasting only three or four dishes upon which Sookie was testing her culinary skills. Davy was strapped into his pram, secured as surely as if he were going to be skydiving, and the parachute opened somewhere from within his vehicle.

Luke wanted to eat at his diner, and if that didn't pass, he wanted them all to visit Snuffy's.

"But Luke," Lorelai said, "this is Italian week at Al's. He's got half a dozen pizzas to choose from and lasagna and spaghetti. Are you going to be denying Davy spaghetti?"

Luke was not to be dissuaded.

"Snuffy's got all that, plus hamburgers and french fries, and it's on a kid's menu. Al's doesn't have a kid's menu, and we'd have to portion it accordingly for Davy."

"Al's is right here, though. We can walk."

"They've got a coloring set that they hand out for little kids," Luke added. "And Snuffy's has good coffee."

Al's had terrible coffee.

"I'll drive."

Though it was a Thursday night, Snuffy's Tavern was packed. It was lucky that Luke knew the owners, because nothing other than VIP service would have gotten them a table. The hostess recognized them and led the three immediately to a booth. They were no sooner seated than Maisy came out and greeted them warmly.

"Luke!" she said. "And Lorelai -- gosh, you look beautiful tonight. You haven't looked more lovelysince your wedding day." Lorelai was used to such lavish compliments from the older woman, but it didn't mean that she couldn't accept them with a rose blush and smile between her husband and herself. "And do I recognize this young gentleman from your wedding day?"

"I am exercising my rights as an aunt so that this new older brother can have a night out on the town."

"Admirable," Maisy said, pinching Davy's cheek's affectionately. "I'll be right back with the big bucket of crayons."

Davy ended up begging for scrambled eggs and pancakes, and Luke whispered that the eggs were scrambled with milk, and they were just as good at five-thirty as they were in the morning, so the kid may as well have them. He put his foot down when Lorelai whispered back that chocolate chips were good any time of the day.

"No," he said. "We do that for you because it's too late to save you. Davy's a kid, and we can control what he eats. No chocolate chips in his pancakes, or I'm vetoing the soda pop."

"You're a cruel man, Luke Danes."

Maisy returned then with the largest container of crayons that Lorelai had ever seen in her life. Rory had not been an exceptionally artistic child, and any Crayolas in the house invariable ended up worn to the stub by use of the mother and not the daughter.

"Boy, Maisy, you gonna let any other kid color today?" she joked.

"Oh, don't be silly," said the ever affable Maisy. "These are the old crayons. We keep them on hand to refill the boxes when they get low. I just thought that maybe he would like to have a lot of colors to choose from."

"C'mon, buddy," Luke said, "let's get this dinosaur colored in."

He reached for the green, but Davy interrupted him by grabbing on Luke's arm with both of his tiny fists.

"Pink!"

Luke managed to create the classic look of a curdled stomach at that pronouncement. Lorelai elbowed him in the stomach while Maisy fixed upon him a stern face. Lorelai could picture the words in his head: aw, geeze.

"Pink it is," sighed Luke, digging around for a crayon in the chosen color. "But let's keep purple out of the picture, okay?"

"Cassie is pink," stated Davy. "And she has wings."

Lorelai laughed, then snorted. She realized what Davy was talking about now -- Rory had gone through something similar with some puppet named Charlie Horse when she'd been around Davy's age.

"He's talking about a TV show," Lorelai explained. She turned to the little boy. "Davy, is Cassie pretty?"

"Pretty pink!" affirmed the boy.

"Oh, he has a crush!" said Luke with relief painted across his face. "I didn't want to make a big deal -- but, hey. Let's color in Cassie, okay, bud?"

Davy was more than willing to acquiesce on this point, and as he and Luke bent over the soon-to-be-colorful kid's menu, Lorelai gave Maisy their orders.

"The usual for me and Luke," she said, motioning down at the almost needless menus on the table. "And for Davy, he'd like scrambled eggs, pancakes, and a Pepsi."

"Got it," Maisy said, watching Luke and Davy out of the corner of her eye. Lowering her voice, she continued shortly, "He's real good with that boy, isn't he?"

Before Lorelai could respond, Maisy had nodded smartly and turned toward the kitchen where Buddy was waiting to make their orders. Soon as it was after she'd been thinking on the subject, Lorelai was quick to call to mind the subject of children.

She watched Luke with a sharp eye as he helped Davy with the coloring. For that he'd claimed to dislike hypothetical jam-handed kids, Luke unquestionably had never done wrong by any children that he'd known. With Rory, he had been the father-figure that she'd never had (and Lorelai felt a quick pang of disquiet rumble in her stomach). With Davy, he was sure and mild, never raising his voice, and always managing to keep control of the kid.

Even when he had been building the set for the school play -- Lorelai remembered the gossip that trickled in then of how the kids had gathered round Luke to tell him their stories and how Luke had listened patiently, all the while teaching them how to use tools and making little craftsmen and -women out of them.

She sighed, and Luke glanced up. Lorelai smiled and reached across the table for his hand, thinking, he's paternal. But if Luke was fatherly, was Lorelai really a mother-figure? She had raised her kid to be her best friend. She had definitely never expected at sixteen to be someone's mom, and she had never quite prepared herself for it. Certainly she was no mother like Emily Gilmore was a mother, had in fact gone out of her way to be just the opposite.

In the end, though, hadn't it all amounted to the same thing? The daughter ran away from home, and the mother was left to make do. So now what was Lorelai supposed to do? Have another baby, try another method, and hope that this time she didn't mess up?

What if she did?

Lorelai's dark reverie was interrupted by the arrival of their drinks.