chapter eight

xxiv.

By the beginning of November, Lorelai was starting to come to terms with the fact that her daughter was getting married. It was less than five days away; Luke had been in for a new suit, and Lorelai had sewn herself a dress out of a dark blue material.

On the evening of the fourth, while she lay in bed watching her husband undress, the topic was brought up in a more material sense than dresses and evening suits.

"I had lunch with Rory today," Luke said as he peeled off his socks. "It was some overpriced place in Hartford. We ate outside, and people walking by kept commenting on our food. I wanted to strangle them and string them up beside our table as a warning to the others."

"With Rory?"

"Yeah. And --" Luke stopped speaking, turning to look at Lorelai. She smiled for his sake, trying to feel okay with him eating lunch with Rory without her there. All she felt was strange. "Rory asked me something. She asked if I would ... walk her down the aisle."

Lorelai held her breath for the shortest of moments, thinking proudly on how that would look, her daughter and her husband walking together down the middle of a church filled with hundreds of guests. She had never thought that the day would come when Rory would need giving away -- had perhaps even assumed that her father or even herself would step in if Christopher weren't to do it.

Rory's choice of Luke was perfect.

"I'm so ... " and Lorelai searched for the best word. "I just can't tell you how this makes me feel. How happy and proud. It's wonderful. You said yes?" Luke nodded. She smiled, and then asked as delicately as possible. "Is Chris ..."

"Chris is, um, out of the country for the wedding, and she said that she'd rather me than her grandfather."

There were no words for Lorelai's emotions at that moment; it was beyond the happiness that she'd felt just moments prior. Rory had gone out of her way to include Luke in the wedding. Not only was it a beautiful gesture on Rory's part, but it had to be some sort of sign as to how Lorelai and her daughter's relationship was going.

"Well, if you're in the wedding party," she started sagely, "I suppose that I have to wear something pretty. Don't want to embarrass you."

Luke threw a sock at her.

xxv.

The thunder woke her, but Rory was standing by the window, drawing the curtains aside so that they could watch the lightning together. Luke was already gone; if there had been no rain, the morning would have shown light through the window already.

"I knew it was going to rain today because I dreamt it."

"You dreamed that it was going to rain?" Lorelai asked in all dutifulness. They encouraged one another's stories by repeating the last line or word as a sort of verbal nudge. Go ahead, it said. Tell me more.

"Luckily, it came as a warning and not foresight. That would have been creepy."

"Foresight?"

"Would you have preferred premonition, Glinda?"

Lightning filled a cloud just outside the window, and they both jumped.

"I'm a magic mama." Her hand touched her stomach then, and even in her dreams she could not tell Rory of her pregnancy.

xxvi.

It began like the beat of a heart. Lorelai didn't notice it because it had come and gone so evenly and so softly that she was certain it was nothing. Rhythm and pulse is not wrong; it is life and not death. But the pain had started, and she stopped in the middle of the kitchen, hurriedly putting down the glass of ice water that she'd poured herself.

"Ow," she said, and she cradled her stomach with both hands, swathing it in a sort of desperate plea.

Like a flood had come, the pain spread from one point and covered like a blanket, like numberless capillaries, the rest of her abdomen. It wasn't real, but it was, and she held on to her pain, arms crossed across her midsection, fingers clenched on the soft flesh of her hips.

The phone in her hand felt cool like bathroom tiles after a long night out. She hit speed dial, and Luke answered on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Luke?" Tears that she hadn't even known she'd cried covered the word, and Lorelai inhaled softly. "Luke, come home."

"What's wrong?"

"Just --" and another wave hit, this time more intense. "I need you to drive me to the hospital."

Oh, God, please.

"I'll be right there."

Lorelai was still sitting in the kitchen when Luke came running into the house, calling her name. The pain had subsided by then, far less than it had been for those horrible few minutes, and she was with a half-drunk glass of water in her left hand.

The right had blood on her fingertips.

"I read somewhere," she began, "that you're supposed to save the tissue. But I don't want to do it. I want -- can we just go to the hospital?"

xxvii.

In the waiting area, Lorelai sat in a wheelchair and flipped through a five-month-old Vogue while Luke checked her out. Her eyes were on the page, but she couldn't see anything. The only thing upon which she was able to fix was Luke's voice and that of the nurse at reception murmuring instructions.

There was no walk to the car; someone from the hospital wheeled her out. She couldn't protest like she wanted to -- she couldn't find it in her to tell them, "I'm okay. I'm okay." Lorelai hoped it was in her eyes as Luke helped her into the car.

After he belted her, she touched his shoulder. The contact spread a fire through her fingers, one not unlike earlier. She withdrew her hand and clothed herself in numbness again.

"I'm so sorry, Luke." A whisper had found its way out of her fractured being.

"No, no," he said. "No, why are you sorry? I'm sorry, Lorelai. I'm sorry."

"This is my fault. It's my body that messed up, and it hurts, Luke. It hurts so bad in so many different ways." Lorelai turned to him. "Maybe I didn't want it enough. Maybe it knew that I wasn't planning for it. Maybe this is God's way of saying, well, Lorelai, think before you act!"

"Nobody plans the first kid, Lorelai! Nobody ever thinks they're ready until they have to be!"

"I was thinking about it," she said softly. "With Davy. I saw how good you were with him, and I thought, Luke wants kids. Luke wants to be a dad. But I was so worried that I would mess up, just like I had with Rory. I was worried that I would go through twenty years and then lose her. I didn't think I could take the chance yet."

"You didn't lose Rory," said Luke. "You wouldn't have messed up with this kid."

Lorelai took a deep breath; she knew that she had to tell Luke this, even if he couldn't understand her, even if it made him angry. She didn't want to, but she had to tell him.

"I was scared when I found out I was pregnant. Terrified."

Luke grabbed her, held her. He clutched her so tightly in his arms that she could see stars at the edge of her vision. She felt his tears hot on her cheek, and wondered why she hadn't joined him in crying. She couldn't though; there were too many dark reasons for this for her to allow herself that weakness.

"I was scared too," he whispered fiercely. "Everybody gets scared, Lorelai."

It was like he was taking part of the blame off of her shoulders. She felt undeserving.

"And then -- I wanted it like I've never wanted anything else in this world," Lorelai told him. "But maybe I didn't want it enough."

"This is not your fault. This is no one's fault."

She felt her own tears begin to mingle with his.