Hi friends!
Believe it or not, I've been trying to write a story since my last ended. Life and my perfectionist ways seems to be getting in the way, so I've decided to just push that all aside, move forward and simply post! Just a heads up, this story isn't as far along as my previous one, so updates will most likely be spaced further apart. This is a multi-chapter story though I'm not not sure how long it will be yet. We'll see.
Set in season 6, around the time of The Prodigal Daughter Returns and He's Slippin' 'Em Bread...Dig?
Future chapters will be longer, this chapter is simply setting the stage.
Disclaimer: Once again, I own none of this.
LUKE POV
"Luke, phone!" Lane's voice calls out through the boisterous diner.
Wondering who would be trying to contact me at the busiest time of the day, I drop off two plates to the couple at the table in the corner. Every chair and stool in the diner is occupied. It's loud. It's chaotic. It's insane. Anyone with half a brain knows not to call me until after the lunch rush.
Even so, I quickly make my way behind the counter while rubbing my hands over my jeans. Taking the receiver from Lane, I wedge the phone between my shoulder and ear, "Luke's."
"Mr. Danes? Luke Danes?" An unfamiliar voice fills my ears.
"That's me," I mumble while beginning to refill drinks for the customers sitting at the counter. "Listen, I'm not interested in whatever you're selling so-"
"Mr. Danes, it's imperative that I inform you of some unfo-"
"The diner is packed and I'm busy right now. Can you call back later this afternoon?" I ask impatiently when Lane gets tangled up in the phone cord.
Thankfully, being agile, Lane ducks down and out of the cord, freeing herself and continuing on her way without dropping even a morsel of food from the plates in her hands.
"No, not really. I'm sorry to say that it's very unlikely that a more convenient time may come up for me to speak with you. My name is Alicia Silver, I'm a social worker, I'm calling to inform you of an unfortunate accident."
In that moment, the rest of the diner fades from my consciousness. My chest expands like a balloon in a desperate attempt to suck in more oxygen. My thoughts go to Lorelai and an overly nauseous feeling rises in my chest. If anything has happe-
"Mr. Danes?" Alicia calls out patiently, trying to coax me back into the moment.
It's obvious she's done this before.
Placing the water pitcher down, I turn the corner, and step into the kitchen, not wanting anyone to overhear this conversation. If something happened to Lorelai I won't be able to function with everyone in town panicking alongside me. Hell, I can barely function with the mere thought that she may be hurt. Thankfully Caesar is too busy cooking and pays me no mind when I enter his space.
"What hospital?"
"Excuse me?"
"What hospital?" I ask again impatiently.
Wounded images of not only Lorelai but also Rory or my sister and her family begin zooming through my mind's eye. Anyone I love could seriously be hurt.
"Sir, there's no hospital to visit. I'm sorry to inform you that Anna has already passed."
Relief flood my veins like a soft summer rain on dry parched ground.
"Anna?" I ask in confusion. "I'm sorry, you have the wrong number."
"Mr. Danes, you were in a romantic relationship with Anna Nardini about twelve years ago?"
"Oh, Anna!" I exclaim and then the woman's words from earlier register. "Oh. Oh no. What happened?"
"There was an accident," she continues gravely. "I'm sorry to inform you that she didn't make it."
I lean my head back against the wall, close my eyes and let out a deep breath.
"Thank you for calling and informing me. My condolences to her family," I sympathize quietly. I'm surprised to find despite not seeing Anna for over a decade, the news still hits hard. "I don't want to sound insensitive, but why exactly are you calling me?"
"Sir, Anna didn't tell you everything. I'd like for you to make your way to our main office in Woodbridge as soon as possible so we can talk in person."
"Ah," I wince. "First off, please just call me Luke. Second, I'm not a fan of big towns, can you just tell me over the phone?"
"This news would be much better delivered in person. In fact, I apologize. If I hadn't broken my leg a week ago, I would have made the drive to Stars Hollow to inform you of all this news in person. We're short staffed currently. Burn out," she comments dryly as though that explains everything before continuing, "We're doing the best we can with what we have at the moment."
Turning my head, I glance into the bustling diner. My brief absence has stalled the flow and a huddle has formed to the right of the entrance. People are checking their watches impatiently.
Please believe me when I tell you, I'm not a bad, heartless guy. I know that death is more important than a diner full of hungry customers, but I'm not exactly skilled at juggling my emotions or being pulled in multiple directions. It's something I've been telling myself I need to work on. Unfortunately I never seem to muster enough gumption to work on this particular weakness of mine.
While I'm saddened to hear about Anna, I can't be hiding out in the kitchen talking to a social worker on the phone or making the drive to Woodbridge. Whatever this is, it can't have much to do with me. It's been over ten years since I've seen Anna.
"I don't have time to make the drive today. How's tomorrow?"
There's a deep, disapproving sigh on the other line. "Luke, this is impo-"
"If it can't wait until tomorrow, please just tell me now. I can't make the drive today!" I reply impatiently. I wince as my words come out harsh, "I'm sorry, I know it's not your fault, I just can't leave work today."
"You would like me to inform you of the news over the phone?" she asks clearly following protocol and looking for solid confirmation.
"Yes."
"Ok, but you will still need to come to our office tomorrow."
I roll my eyes, let out a deep breath and rub my face with my free hand in frustration. "Tell me."
"Sir, Anna is survived by her twelve year old daughter," I drop my hand from my face. "Mr. Danes, there's a possibility you may be her father."