I feel like I always start the chapter by saying "Sorry for the delay!" Many thanks for all the comments and the positive feedback. As usual, I cannot fully express my gratitude to my wonderful beta Cira. I got a five-page review out of her this time, so I hope you all will enjoy the latest chapter!
CHAPTER TWLEVE
Lorelai looked from her mother to the window. Pushing herself up from the chair she had occupied for the past forty minutes, she stood up to stretch her legs. It was getting dark outside. Soon it would be nighttime and that would mark the end of yet another day her mother had spent lying unconscious in this place. Richard, at the insistence of both she and Joshua, had gone home to take a shower and to change his clothes. He just needed to get away from the hospital. It took Lorelai and Joshua both to convince him to go home. He had been sitting beside Emily's bed for three days straight without leaving more than a few minutes at a time.
Joshua and the neurologist they'd brought in from Boston to review Emily's medical record had talked to Richard and Lorelai about Emily's condition for more than two hours this afternoon. It had now been well over a week since Emily's accident. All of her brain scans and neurological tests showed no signs of any mental impairment or inhibited brain functions. They could find nothing seriously wrong with her. She just didn't seem to want to wake up – that was all they could surmise. There weren't any answers to the many questions that they had. The neurologist was supposed to be the top of his field yet even he knew very little about what to do next.
Running her hand along the window seal, Lorelai looked out at the shadows cast by the rising moon. As her fingers traced the thick, rubbery line of sealant surrounding the glass pane, she found herself lost in though. There were so many times that she had tried to escape from her mother. And almost every time she had succeeded. Only a few times had her mother actually caught her. Now as she stood looking out the window she couldn't help the urge to want to escape again. She wanted to get out of this place. She wanted to leave and never come back. It was the same feeling she had felt twenty-three years ago when she had decided to take Rory and leave. Yet somehow she couldn't bring herself to leave this time. Just going home at night was getting harder and harder each day. Her mother was here and somehow it just felt right that she be here. No matter how much she wanted to leave, she couldn't stop herself from coming back. Not out of obligation or responsibility, but out of a need to be with her mother. They had wasted so much time. So many years had been wasted fighting and arguing and being mad about things that really didn't seem all that important now. All the time that had been wasted not speaking to each other. The weeks, months, and years of each other's lives that they had missed. If these moments now were the only time that they had left together, then she wanted to spend it here. Even if her mother never woke up again, at least they were together now. At least somehow they were making up for all that time they'd spend apart.
She froze as the doorknob turned. It was too late to get down without being caught. Her mother would hear the noise and see the open window. It was too late. Her right foot was perched on the window sill and her left leg was mid-air. Even if she jumped down right now she would still get caught. Her mother would hear the thud as her feet hit the floor. And she would make the logical conclusions when she saw the open window. There was just no way that she could jump down and close the window in time to not get caught. All Lorelai could do was stare at the door as it opened, frozen in place.
Emily pushed the door open. "Lorelai, I think we need to-" She stopped talking when she spotted her daughter at the window. Closing her eyes for a moment, she sighed, trying to calm her rising temper. Emily wished that she could say she was surprised by the sight before her, yet she wasn't. Her daughter was a master at sneaking out of the house.
Lorelai watched as Emily's face fell. She knew that she was not going to be able to talk her way out of this one. For a second, she was tempted to tell her mother that it wasn't what it looked like. But it was. Her mother would never believe anything else.
"Lorelai, could you please come down from there?" Emily asked, a familiar tone in her voice. It was a mixture of annoyance and disappointment.
Lorelai sighed as her feet hit the floor. At least she had tried. "I don't suppose that I can talk my way out of this one, can I?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood. She stood up straight, smiling that mischievous grin at her mother.
Emily shook her head. "Sometimes I don't know what to do with you, Lorelai," she sighed, her hand still clutching the door knob.
"You could let me go to the party," Lorelai suggested. Emily didn't have to reply to her daughter. Lorelai could read her mother's face and tell that was not going to happen. Her mother didn't even crack a smile.
"Your father specifically told you that you were not allowed to go, Lorelai. Why can't you accept that? Why do you have to insist on doing everything that we forbid you to do? For the life of me I cannot understand it."
"Because it isn't fair, Mom!" She sat down on her bed. Rather, she plopped down on the bed. "This is important to me."
Emily huffed. "All parties are important to you, Lorelai." She finally let go of the doorknob, moving into the room.
"This is different, Mom. Amanda Kelly and I grew up together. How can I not be at her fifteenth birthday party? She let me sit next to her on the first day of kindergarten when no one else liked me. She laughs at my stupid jokes."
"Lorelai, your father said no." Emily came to a stop in front of her daughter.
Lorelai sighed. "He said no because he hates Amanda's dad. It's not fair that I can't go because our parents don't get along. It's not our fault that Mr. Kelly and Dad got into a fight on the golf course last week!"
"Your father does not hate Hayden Kelly. They do business together."
"Oh come on, Mom. I'm not that clueless. I know that Dad dated Amanda's mom back when they were like my age and Amanda's dad is still jealous."
Emily had to conceal the urge to laugh. Her daughter was right. It was as stupid as that, jealousy about something that happened twenty-five years ago. She looked over at her daughter. Why was she going to do this? Emily shook her head, wondering how she had let her guard down so quickly this time. She just hoped it wouldn't backfire in her face. "Your father is in his study. He has a phone conference at seven o'clock. It is supposed to last at least an hour."
Lorelai didn't understand her mother. "What are you –"
"If your father catches you, I will not stand behind you. I will deny all of this ever happened. And if you are not home by eleven o'clock, I will send your father up here to find you. And you know what will happen when he discovers that you are not in your room."
Lorelai broke out into a smile. She pounced off the bed to hug her mother, thanking her repeatedly.
Emily remained still as her daughter threw her arms around her. "This is a one-time thing, Lorelai. I will not take your side over your father. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Mom. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" she gushed before running over to the window.
"Do not make me regret this," Emily warned. "And use the back door, Lorelai. You're going to break your neck climbing out that window one day."
That was the one and only time her mother actually let her sneak out of the house. Lorelai didn't really know why her mother had let her do it. It was a rather uncharacteristic moment for Emily Gilmore. Yet somehow they had found a common ground that night. They had connected in a way that they never did again.
Moving away from the window, Lorelai turned around to face her mother. Turning her head to the side she looked down at the woman lying there. It had never really struck her before how, but her mother was quite a beautiful woman. Her auburn-colored hair was so vibrant. Even flat and in need of style it was still bright and colorful. Its vibrancy took away from the bruises on her face, surrounding her in a peaceful aura. Somehow the hint of her mother's grey roots only made her seem even more human. Not even Emily Gilmore could escape the signs of aging. She was no longer as scary and intimidating as Lorelai had always perceived her. She was just an average woman trying to live her life as best she could. They were quite alike in that respect. Actually they were quite alike in many respects. It had just taken Lorelai a long time to realize that.
Timidly, she reached out her hand. Holding it inches from her mother's hairline, she finally moved her fingers. When her mother didn't react to her touch, she caressed the silky hair between her fingertips. It was so thin and fine. The red highlights sparkled against Lorelai's pale fingers. She ran her fingertips along the side of her mother's face, tracing the outline of her cheekbone. Her mother had such defined cheekbones. There was no expression on her face yet somehow she could almost see the hint of a smile. Her mother really was quite a beautiful woman. She had never actually noticed that before. Emily Gilmore was always attractive and put together. Yet never before had Lorelai just stood there and really looked at her mother. Never before had she taken the time to pay that much attention to her.
As her eyes scanned her mother's face she kept finding something new to occupy her gaze. The perfect curve of her eyebrows. The contour of her chin. The fine lines around the corners of her eyes. The shape of her nose. The taut skin of her neck. It all made her mother seem so normal and so un-Emily Gilmore. Never before had she really paid this much attention to her mother. So much wasted time.
Shutting the door to their bedroom, he stood outside of it for a moment. Leaning back against the door he looked at the painting adorning the upstairs hallway. It was from one of their trips to Greece. Or maybe it was from Bulgaria. Yes, it was Bulgaria. They had met an art dealer in Sofia, the friend of one of Richard's business acquaintances. Richard hadn't been too wild about the painting when he first saw it, but Emily had loved it. The elegant paint colors and the inspired brush strokes feverishly made by the painter immediately caught her eye. The large painting arrived two weeks after they returned home. It had now been hanging in the hallway for nearly ten years. Richard walked past the painting as he made his way down the hall. He had to get back to the hospital and back to his wife.
As he reached the final step of the stairs, Richard found himself walking towards the living room instead of the door. He stood in the doorway, looking around the dark house. He had been about to walk out the door and go back to the hospital. Yet he felt drawn to this room. It almost felt as if his wife were here. The rest of the house felt so empty. Their house was always so full of life; Emily's spirit seemed to be everywhere. She was somehow part of every room in the place. Every room had her touch. She had designed and redecorated them all many times during the past forty years. Every element of the inside and outside of the house radiated her personality. It was all her. So little of him. She would ask his opinion but he would always brush her off, telling her to pick whatever design pleased her. Yet without her there the house was empty and lifeless. It just wasn't the same place. If she didn't come back home … it would never be home again.
Emily sat down on the couch, a glass of water in her left hand. The room was only lit by a small lamp in the far corner and the moonlight coming from the windows. In her right hand she held a small pill. She put it in her mouth and swallowed, followed by a sip of the water to wash it down. She leaned against the arm rest, placing her forehead against her hand. Silence. It was wonderful. Yet it was soon shattered as she heard her husband bellowing for her down the hallway. Well, he wasn't bellowing. It just sounded that way as the noise reverberated in her head. She ignored her husband, knowing he would eventually find her. And when he did perhaps he would see that she did not feel well and leave her alone.
"Emily… what are you doing in here? It's almost time for bed." Richard reached for the lamp, flicking the knob. "And why are you sitting in the dark?"
"Can you leave that off?" she asked, flinching at the sudden illumination of the room.
Richard could tell from the tone of her voice that Emily was not in a good mood. He quickly turned the switch, shutting off the lamp. He then circled the couch, moving around to stand in front of his wife. "Are you all right?" he asked, looking down at her.
"I'm fine," she stated, not opening her eyes or even moving. Most of the time he was in his own world. Yet when she wanted most to be left alone, he was there standing in front of her and wanting to know what she was doing.
"You don't look fine," he countered, looking her over. She did look a bit pale. Then again the only light in the room was from the moon. However, he could tell that something was not quite right.
Emily sighed, opening her eyes and lifting her head up to look at him. "I have a headache, Richard. It has been a long day."
"Then why don't we go up to bed?"he suggested
"Yes, I'm sure," she snapped. "Just go to bed and I'll be up eventually." She closed her eyes again. If only he would just leave her alone!
The tone of her voice startled him and Richard moved to sit down next to her. Emily didn't look at him or even acknowledge that she was aware he had sat down beside her. Richard took the glass from her hand. She could hear him placing it down on the table. He then slid his hand across her shoulders and back, putting his arm around her. She didn't fight him, but allowed him to move her body next to his. He finally pulled her against him, laying her head in his lap.
As she felt her husband's hand running through her hair, Emily drew up her legs. She allowed herself to give in to her husband. Lying against him, she let herself relax. It was rare that they had a quiet, peaceful moment between just the two of them. It was a very rare occurrence these days.
Richard brushed her hair from her face, smiling down at the woman he adored. It was wonderful to have her lying in his arms, neither saying a word. He looked down at her, her eyes closed, her hand resting on his knee. In her face, he could see the very fine lines of a sixty year old woman. Yet he could also see something that no one else could. He could see the young woman that he had fallen in love with so many years ago. He could see the woman who had given birth to his child. And he could see the woman who had stood with him outside of a nursery, watching their newly-born grandchild sleep. In these moments she was the only person in his life. She was the one person who had always been there. Even when she didn't want to, she would take his side. She always stood behind him or next to him and did whatever he needed her to do. Rarely did she complain. She was just there beside him. Always. No questions asked.
Lorelai sat in her mother's room, the TV remote in her hands. Richard wasn't back from the house yet. She had taken the extra chair from the other side of the room and brought it around to where she was sitting to use it as a foot rest. Her legs were now stretched out before her, her feet propped up by the back of a chair. This was about as comfortable as she was going to get, sitting next to her mother's, bed flipping through the channels on the TV. She was going back and forth between two soap operas. One was about people in a hospital and the other was about some town under a magical spell. Neither one was very good, but it made the time go by. The cheesy acting and the lame plot lines were at least laughable.
Every once in a while, she would look over at her mother. She knew that her mother did not like watching television. It was all so mindless and poorly written. She had the DVD player Lorelai had brought her in the bedroom, but she didn't watch television very often. It would make her furious to know that her unconscious self was listening to soap operas. Many times had she gone on a rant about how amoral and disgraceful they were. Lorelai really wasn't a big fan of them either. Part of Lorelai hoped that her mother would be so annoyed that she would open her eyes, snapping at her daughter to turn off the TV. Yet in the back of her mind, Lorelai knew that was not going to happen.
Emily looked better today than she had days ago when she had been brought in to the hospital. Her bruises were not as bad as they had been before. She was starting to look more like Emily Gilmore again. Yet she still was not showing any signs of response to any of them. Not Richard. Not Rory. And definitely not to her. No one knew anything.
"Damn it, Mom." She clicked off the TV. She couldn't pay attention to it with her mother lying there next to her.
All she could think about was her mother and how messed up things had gotten between them.
Lorelai sat on the edge of her bed. Rory was asleep in her basinet. She was almost too big for it. Soon Lorelai was going to have to find somewhere else for Rory to sleep. She didn't have the money to buy her a proper crib. And she couldn't ask Mia for help. Mia had already done so much for them. She had done too much for them. It wasn't right to keep asking things of her.
It had been a long day. A large number of guests had checked out today and their rooms were already booked out to new guests. Donna, the other maid, had called in sick and that left Lorelai to clean all the rooms herself. It had taken a very long time and she was dead tired now. Thankfully Rory had fallen asleep quickly after Lorelai fed her.
Reaching over to open the drawer that was next to her pull-out bed, Lorelai stuck her hand inside. She pulled out a small white envelope. Inside were three photographs. For some reason, looking at them always made her sad. Yet she couldn't not look at them. Something inside of her wanted to see them and wanted to be reminded. She wanted to warn the people in the photos. She wanted to tell them to do things differently and to become different people. She wanted to warn them what would happen if they didn't change, if they didn't do things differently.
Lorelai brushed her fingers across the first photo. It was taken years ago when Lorelai herself was a little girl. It was only ten years before, but it felt like a lifetime ago. It felt like she hadn't been a child in a long, long time. She was lying in the snow, her arms spread out to her sides. Richard had taken the photo while Emily complained that Lorelai was getting her coat dirty. She had smiled and thrashed around in the snow anyways. They were happy that day. In spite of her mother's complaining, they were happy. It had been such a fun day. Yet now it was sad to think back to that day. It was almost to the point where Lorelai didn't even remember that day. It didn't feel real anymore. It felt like someone else's memory. As she looked at the photo she found herself wishing the man who took the photo and the woman who had stood next to him were her parents. They weren't the man and woman she had run away from. They were different people. Somehow they were different people back then.
The next photo was of her mother. It appeared to have been taken some time during the 1950s as her mother looked to be about ten or eleven years old. She was standing next to a river or lake. There were people in a raft behind her. Her mother had a leash in her hands and was looking down at a dog next to her. This did not look very much like an Emily Gilmore photo. She just looked like a little girl, an average little girl. That was not how Lorelai had pictured her mother. It was hard to believe that Emily Gilmore had once been a little girl herself. Lorelai had always wished that she could have known that girl. She looked like she was a fun person. Lorelai wished that that girl, too, were her mother. Maybe the two of them would have been friends.
The third photo was also of her mother. She was a teenager in the photo or perhaps in her early twenties. She was dressed in a skirt and blouse and had a few books in her arms. There was some guy standing next to her, but Lorelai had never known who he was. Emily had a huge smile on her face and her eyes were looking over at the man next to her. It was clear that they had been laughing about something and someone had taken the photograph suddenly. Her mother looked so happy and carefree. She was so beautiful. The inscription "Preston and Emily" on the back had never meant anything to her before. It was a black and white photo, but you could almost see how red her hair was and how bright her eyes were. She was stunning. It was hard to believe that woman was her mother. She would liked to have known that happy, smiling young woman. She wished that woman could be her mother.
Lorelai suddenly looked up when she heard a noise. Mia had opened the door and was watching her.
"Is everything all right?" Lorelai asked, quickly putting the photos back into the envelope. She didn't think that she could have forgotten a room. She had made sure that they were all prepared for the guests.
Mia nodded. "The Inn is fine. I was just checking on you." She watched as Lorelai put the envelope back into the drawer. This wasn't the first time she had found Lorelai staring at whatever was inside the envelope. She could tell they were photos. And she could probably indentify the people in the photos, even if she'd never seen them before.
"We're fine," Lorelai smiled, looking over at a sleeping Rory. "Rory's fine." She smiled at Mia. How could she have been so lucky to find a woman like Mia who would take in her and her baby and give them a home and a job? It had been a miracle. Mia was their miracle.
"What about you?" Mia asked. She finally stepped inside the room as she asked her question.
"I'm fine, too. Like usual."
Mia smiled half-heartedly. She didn't know Lorelai that well yet, but she knew her well enough to know what was bothering the young woman. "You miss her," she surmised, sitting down in an old chair close to Lorelai. It squeaked as she sat down and they both cringed, looking over towards Rory. Thankfully, she didn't wake up.
"Who?" Lorelai knew exactly whom Mia was referring to. She just couldn't admit it. She couldn't admit that she was thinking about her mother. No, it was easier to forget. It was easier to forget about her parents, to pretend that they didn't exist anymore. It was less painful that way. If she could just forget about them and about their past, then she could move on with her life. Thinking about them would only hold her back. She had to just forget about them all together.
"You know who…" Mia hinted, uncertain of how far she should push the young woman.
"I'm fine," Lorelai shrugged. "Just tired, that's all."
Mia knew not to press her any further. If Lorelai wanted to talk, then she would come to her instead. "Ok, then. Get some sleep."
Lorelai nodded, watching as Mia shut the door behind herself.
"You know," Lorelai sighed, looking at her mother's unconscious body. "I'd give just about anything for you to wake up and start yelling at me right now. I'd give just about anything to hear your voice again."
"The phone is ringing," Sweetie announced.
Emily looked around, a bit confused. They were at the house in Hartford. It looked almost like the present times. The upholstery and carpet were different, though. Emily looked down at her feet. They hadn't had this dark beige Berber carpet in at least fifteen years.
"Don't answer it," Sweetie warned, reaching out to stop Emily from moving forward to pick up the phone.
They both watched as Emily emerged from the kitchen and crossed the room in front of them. She was no longer a young woman anymore. In fact, she was almost an exact replica of the present day Emily. However, she had longer hair and a worse fashion sense.
"The eighties were not a good decade for fashion," Sweetie commented, shaking her head.
"I had a lot of big belts," Emily noticed. "That wasn't one of the more flattering ones either."
She was wearing a patterned silk blouse and a dark green skirt. It would have been a fine ensemble were it not for the large belt. It did make her look quite thin, though.
Emily watched herself as she picked up the phone. She didn't have to hear what the woman on the other end was saying to know the conversation. No, she knew those words by heart. She had heard them replaying so many times in her head after that day. They had echoed so loudly in her ears as she lay in bed at night. And they had replayed in her mind often as she would sit in the audience at a DAR lecture or at the salon. She knew those words by heart.
"Is this Mrs. Gilmore?" a woman's voiced asked from the other end of a phone line.
"Yes, who is this?"
"My name is Mia. You don't know who I am, but I'm calling for your daughter."
"Is she all right?" Emily hadn't heard from Lorelai in months. No one knew where she was.
Richard, without Emily's knowledge, had hired a private investigator to find his daughter but even that man had come up empty. To this day he didn't know that Emily had found the paperwork in his office when she would wander downstairs after having sent the maid and the cook home early.
"She's fine, Mrs. Gilmore. That's why I'm calling. She doesn't know that I'm doing this, but I know that I'd be sick with worry if my child up and left without telling me." Emily was silent. Mia chose to continue speaking. "She's OK. The baby is OK, too. I'll take care of them."
"Where is she?" Emily finally managed to ask.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Gilmore, but I can't tell you that. I promised her that I wouldn't call her parents to come get her." Mia thought that she heard a sniff coming from Emily's end of the line. "I'll make sure that nothing happens to them. They'll be fine. She's a very strong-willed young woman. She'll be OK." The line was silent. Finally, Emily heard a click and the dial tone lulled in her ear.
Both Emily and Sweetie remained silent. They watched as Emily stood motionless, the phone still in her hand. She couldn't move. In a mere matter of seconds, her entire world had just stopped. Lorelai was gone. She was gone for good.
Emily finally broke the silence, unable to stand the sight of her former self. "I can't watch this. I can't go through this again." She closed her eyes, turning away from the sight of herself standing helplessly by the phone. It was too much. This pain she didn't want to remember. Her heart had broken during that phone call. She was never again the same woman. Sometimes she wished that she hadn't picked up the phone at all. It might have been easier if she just hadn't known. If she hadn't known that Lorelai had turned someone else. If she hadn't known that Lorelai had replaced her. It might have been easier that way.
As she spoke the scene disappeared and Emily and Sweetie were back in their dorm room.
"Here again?!" Emily was exasperated. None of this made sense. And it was starting to get annoying.
Sweetie looked at her, about to speak.
"Don't you dare tell me that this is all in my head and that I know all the answers," Emily warned. Her voice was stern and angry.
"You do."
"No, I don't!" Emily protested. "I don't understand any of this and, frankly, I'm getting tired of it, Melinda!"