Chapter Three- On the Same Wavelength

Music swelled and filled the tiny church from the new organ bought with the money they'd raised from last summer's carnival as well as the rustle of an entire church full of people rising to their feet. Richard looked at his daughter's blank face and for a moment considered asking her if she was alright but the moment was lost when the commanding woman with the headset urged him to go. Lorelai was propelled into her first step down the isle by the gentle tug on her right arm and she found that as soon as she saw the smiling faces of everyone she'd ever known the dress began to cut off even more of her air supply.

That, however, was nothing compared to the sensation that she was asphyxiating that washed over her when she saw the man standing in his tuxedo at the end of the isle. She couldn't say why for a moment she'd wished it had been Luke standing right where Max was standing, smiling at her. That thought in and of itself was enough to worry her; why did she suddenly want her best friend to be the one she was going to vow her life to?

Panic rose into her throat and stuck there despite her best efforts to swallow it back down, further cutting off the supply of fresh oxygen to her lungs. She'd never really considered Luke to be dating material. He was her best friend, her coffee supplier, her shoulder to cry on, her Mr. Fix-It. She poked fun at his wardrobe and his monosyllabic tendencies. She demanded coffee from him and cajoled and harassed him until she got it. She broke down his resistance to pretty much everything with a tug on his arm and a bat of her eyelashes. She fought with him. She laughed with him. She even pseudo-flirted with him from time to time and she was pretty sure he pseudo-flirted back.

Maybe it hadn't been so pseudo on his end, she considered after recalling his outburst the night before when she'd been attempting to break his will on coming to her wedding. And maybe it hadn't been so pseudo on her end either. Her mind flashed an image of Luke smiling at her in the dark of the diner with the processional practicing out in the square. His eyes had been a fluid blue and his smile had almost been soft as he peered over at her and suddenly Lorelai knew he hadn't been lying when he'd said those things the previous night. What perturbed her even more than that was that the mental image of Luke's smile brought butterflies to the pit of her stomach where as the sight of Max smiling in the flesh made her queasy.

She felt herself slowing, trying to prolong the trip down the isle to give herself more time to think. Her arm was tugged forward, pulling her shoulder at an awkward angle and Richard had to slow himself and turn to look at his daughter whose face was still neutral but whose eyes were dancing with fear. He turned a questioning glance to his wife but her lips were thin and her face drawn, as if she already knew this was going to happen.

Max, aware that something was off with his bride-to-be, took a step forward at about the same time Rory did but Emily stood from her seat in the front pew and stopped them both from proceeding any further. She recognized that the last thing her daughter needed was someone else's opinion clouding her own. If she was going to make it down that isle she needed to be able to do it of her own accord, not because a sweet-faced sixteen year old and a silver tongued school teacher convinced her that it was the right thing to do. Lorelai's pace had slowed the point where it almost looked as though she was trying to go in reverse and Richard wasn't sure whether to hold onto her tighter or let her go all together.

"Lorelai?" Max questioned.

"Lorelai, are you quite alright?" Richard asked.

"Mom?" Rory called.

Lorelai's eyes darted quickly from face to face of those calling to her, trying once again to find the words necessary to explain why she couldn't force her feet to carry her to the end of the isle. A part of her was aware of the spectacle she was making in the middle of the church in front of so many familiar faces and so many ones that were supposed to be familiar. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air on the desk of a boat and her lungs burned with the air she wasn't taking in. She yanked her arm free of her father's and pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to breathe and think at the same time, something proving to be quite difficult. The sarcastic part of her brain told her that she would never again make fun of Julia Robert's character in The Runaway Bride and that she might as well adopt the nickname Maggie right then and there.

She lifted helpless and panicked eyes to her mother's and silently begged her for help, for a way out of this situation that had her confined like a bear in a trap. Emily gave the slightest of nods as if she understood the way her daughter felt and for a single moment, for the first time possibly in either of their lifetimes, mother and daughter were on the same wavelength.

"Run," she whispered.

Lorelai needed no further encouragement.