5 – Different Words For The Same Thing

"You have to tell her she can't take the job."

Since Emily had mentioned the L-word during the cocktails, Lorelai had known that Luke was bursting to tell her how much Rory could not take the job. She was surprised that he restrained himself until they had left the house and was walking to his trusty green truck. "She already has."

"Lorelai ...," Luke began, his voice brusque with anger.

She pre-empted his speech by kissing his cheek softly. "She wants the job, she's taken the job. She's old enough to make that decision herself."

"You don't really think it's a good idea for her to see that ... that ... him again, do you?" Luke spluttered.

Lorelai kissed his cheek again, loving his love for her daughter. "I don't. But if I tell her that and forbid her from taking the job, then I'm just going to act too much like my mother for my peace of mind. And if things does go wrong, as it inevitably does with him around, she'll need her mother."

Luke grumbled incoherently as he opened the truck door for Lorelai. "But he had better not lay a finger on her," he said, slamming his own door shut and turning the key in the ignition with unnecessary force. "If he does, I swear ..."

"Me too," Lorelai said quietly.

Luke shot a look at her, then reached over to pat her knee. Even after the years of intimacy, he still seemed a little clumsy when it came to words of comfort and love. He preferred doing something, making death threats, fixing broken door jambs, punching someone. Lorelai knew it, understood it and ultimately loved him for it.

"You staying with me tonight?" Luke asked gruffly. Unbeknownst to most Stars Hallow denizens, who assumed that Luke and Lorelai did all of their living at Lorelai's house, Lorelai still stayed over at the apartment above the diner from time to time. Especially when Luke had an early delivery, as he often had on Saturdays. After the time that had been wasted, what with estranged daughters and estranged ex-lovers and all of the elements of the universe conspiring against them, Lorelai hated the idea of spending anything more than the absolute minimum time apart. Run the diner. Take care of the Inn. But nights together, always and forever.

Lorelai folded her hand over Luke's. "Try and stop me."

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Saturday mornings was Jess's time with his daughter. On Saturdays, the other Stars Hollow grownups had errands to run, groceries to buy, bills to pay. So the mornings, from the first slurp of the chocolate milk to the moment he took Lily for lunch at Luke's, were just their time. They would watch Loony Tunes, classics that Jesse couldn't remember from his own days as a kid. He would read stories to her, fables and fairy tales and finely spun stories. Or he would sit with a book open on the couch, watching his daughter over the page, finding her more fascinating than any tale ever told. Lily would play with her blocks, constructing architectural oddities with the brightly coloured plastic, humming softly and tunelessly to herself. She would sit next to him, her little feet dangling over the edge, studying her picture books with a concentration copied from him. She would colour with her crayons, scribbling works of art he could never decipher. The ever-present Bear, the first gift from Luke, would be perched on her lap or squeezed under her arm or pressed tightly against her side. Bear was a stuffed dog, of a breed best described as 'mutt', which accompanied Lily everywhere and was the only third party who could be part of their Saturday morning rituals.

It never stopped amazing him that she was as happy in his company as he was in hers.

So when Miss Patty had concerned him in the diner a year ago, saying that Lily was just the right age for her Saturday morning beginner ballet class, Jess had wanted to scream his refusal. There was no way that he could sacrifice his Saturday sanctuary, no way that he could lose that little sliver of uninterrupted bliss. But Lily's eyes widened at the thought of the Sugar Plum Fairy and Angelina Ballerina, both of which Doula had introduced her to, and Jess couldn't refuse.

"Come, Lily, it's time for your first ballet class." Lily came out of her room, shoulders drooped in a familiar gesture. Jess knelt down and looked at her. "Munchkin ...?"

"Bear is going to miss me," she whispered, holding down the dog's ears. "He's never been away from me."

It didn't take a child psychologist to figure it out. Bear, Jess and Saturday mornings had been a ritual filling Lily's memory. This was her first time away from the safety of her father's arms, Luke's diner, Lorelai's house or Sookie's kitchen at the Inn. She knew Miss Patty. She, inexplicably, liked Miss Patty. But this was her first solo flight, the first steps her tiny feet had to take alone in the adult world. No Jess. No Luke. No Lorelai.

No Jess.

"Well," Jess said, lowering his voice also and picking up Lily's butterfly backpack, "you can take Bear with you. I know Miss Patty will feel safer with Bear around to keep an eye out for any strangers."

Lily looked at him, her green eyes clouded with an adult worry. "What if Bear runs away? What if I can't find him again?"

Jess felt his heart break. "Bear will never leave you, Munchkin."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

And so Jess would walk with Lily and Bear to Miss Patty's. He would either wait in the gazebo, pretending to read while anxiously observing his little girl. Was she being friendly with the other girls? Were they being friendly with her? Did she fall? Did she hurt herself? He knew that his presence both reassured and annoyed Miss Patty, a mixture of look-how-adorable-Jess-is-being and I-am-perfectly-capable-of-taking-care-of-your-kid-you-hooligan. Bear always bounced along in Lily's backpack, even when the butterflies had to be replaced with ballerinas. And as Lily became more confident, letting go of Jess's hand to run towards her friends, Jess would force himself to walk home slowly, knowing that Miss Patty would bring her back safely. And welcoming the opportunity to give Miss Patty a glimpse into the house, the clean and childproof lounge she could see from the door sufficient evidence that Child Protection Services didn't need to be called.

When Miss Patty dropped Lily off after her ballet class this particular morning, Jess felt his heart flip. His radiant little girl was a sad little shadow. Instead of dancing inside, babbling about her class and the music and her friends, she dragged her feet inside and wouldn't look at him as she took off her coat. He barely greeted Miss Patty as she left, too worried about what could have happened to make his daughter so heartbreakingly miserable. His mind, fuelled by an active imagination and the memories of his own childhood, raced through all the possibilities.

"What is making you sad, munchkin?" he asked directly. Perhaps other fathers, better fathers, would've let her tell it herself, wouldn't have pried it from her. But Jess couldn't stand the thought that somebody broke his little girl inside without him knowing it.

She looked at her toes as she scuffled her feet on the floor, clutching Bear tightly to her chest. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

"What happened?" Jess asked, trying not to scare her with his fear.

"I'm sorry I made Mommy go away," she whispered.

"What do you mean, Lily?"

"Everybody else at Miss Patty's has a mommy and a daddy. But I don't and Steve says it's because I was so naughty that my mommy went away," she explained in the barest of voices.

Jess cupped her porcelain chin in his shaking hand and forced her to look at him. "Steve is wrong. Your mommy ... " How do you explain the concept of death to a four-year old who thinks she drove her mother away? Do any words exist that can explain to a child why her mother is dead without leaving her terrified that her father will die also? "Lily, do you trust me?"

She nodded once, her widened green eyes never leaving his.

"Have I ever broken any promise that I have made to you?"

She shook her head quickly, whipping her black hair around her face. He smoothed the hair from her face and tucked the stray curls behind her ears. "I promise you that if your mommy could be here, she would be. You are the best little girl in the world and you have done nothing to make your mommy go away. Do you believe me?"

She stared at him wordlessly.

"Lily?"

She nodded once and he released his anxiety in a deep breath. Jess had never used words like 'mommy' and 'daddy' around her. It would've been too confusing, especially once the idea to move to Stars Hollow became a reality. Who was truly her grandfather, Jimmy in California who forgot her birthday or Luke who stayed up all night to make the perfect Bear cake? Jimmy who barely knew what his son looked like or Luke who modelled him into the man he became? And since he could never convince himself to call Liz 'Mother', he couldn't introduce her to his daughter as 'Grandmother'. Besides which, there was Stepgrandfather TJ and Aunt April and Aunt Doula and Honorary Stepgrandmother Lorelai and, by association, Honorary Aunt Rory. Which was all ludicrous and not just because Doula was scarcely older than Lily. Not just because it could, should, must be 'Mom' Rory ... Lily had followed his lead, with the names as much as with everything else, and simply addressed everyone by name. Calling him 'Daddy' started shortly after she began her ballet classes. It surprised him at first and delighted him since.

"Lily, you know how the same word can mean different things?" he began slowly. Surely a wordsmith, a New York Times bestseller, a publisher, an editor must be able to find right words to tell this fragile child? "Well, words like 'mommy' and 'daddy' really just mean somebody who wants to take care of their kids. Somebody who makes them sandwiches and takes them to ballet classes and reads books with them. Somebody who listens to their problems and reads them stories at bedtime and kisses them goodnight. You understand?"

Lily's green eyes frowned. "But that means Luke and Lorelai and Rory and Liz and TJ and Miss Patty and Sookie and Babette are my mommy and daddy too, because they do those things too."

Jess nodded, feeling relieved that she managed to leap aboard his train of thought. "Yes. That is my point. You may not have your mommy around, but you have very many people around who take care of you, who love you and who want you to be happy. I know it's not exactly the same as having a mommy in the normal sense of the word, but can you see that a lot of people want to make sure that you have the best life you can have?"

She nodded solemnly, as though the horribly convoluted sentence made perfect sense to her. "Are you sure I didn't make Mommy go away?"

"As sure as I am that Luke is going to make you a big plate of cherry pancakes when we go to the diner," he promised her, gathering her close and kissing the tip of her nose. "Go put on your shoes and then we can go."

When they arrived at the diner a few minutes later, Jess ordered her cherry pancakes and his eggs from Luke. He then grabbed Lane's arm and, despite her loud protestations and flyswatting movements, frogmarched her into the apartment above the diner.

"Jess, have you gone insane?" Lane shrieked, slapping him with her notepad and turning to leave. He grabbed her arm again. "Your son told my daughter that she was so naughty that her mother left her." The fury left Lane's face, replaced by shock first and sympathy second. "Oh, Jess, I am so sorry."

"Sorry's not good enough, Lane!" Jess yelled, feeling the anger and frustration and fear steamroll out of his throat. He would not have chosen Lane to confide in, would not have wanted to spill his anxieties like marbles clattering across a floor, but he couldn't make himself shut up. "I had to convince my little girl that nothing she has done in her four short years is bad enough to make somebody stop loving her! I had to try and convince her that there's enough people in this town, crazy as it is, who want to love her and take care of her and I don't know if what I said made sense to her or if she's going to remember it tonight, when she's lying in bed and wondering what her mommy's face looked like!"

"Jess ..."

"I have to be everything for that child, Lane! I have to be her mother and her father and what the hell does a man like me know about little girls? I can't help her with her damn ballet moves, I don't know if the Sleeping Beauty Prince Charming or the Cinderella Prince Charming is the best Prince Charming, I don't know how to tell her where babies come from or why she's having her period or what to do when she falls in love with a boy! That's all conversations that you need a mother for!"

Lane gripped his shoulder in a gesture of sisterly affection that made him fall silent. He tugged at his hair and sighed brokenly into his hands. "You were an irresponsible, immature jerk of a teenager and you couldn't stand being nice to anyone," Lane remarked.

"Wow, that's comforting," Jess muttered.

Lane touched his face, unconsciously aping the way he took hold of Lily's chin. "But you have changed, Jess. You have grown into a responsible, mature father who can finally accept help when needed. Raising kids, even when you have a spouse, is not easy. It's frustrating and difficult and you keep second-guessing your every single move."

Jess blankly stared at her. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"I think every parent does. Even the Waltons must have had their moments," Lane shrugged matter-of-factly. "But you realised you couldn't cope on your own and you moved to a community you hated just to give the best of the world to your daughter. You willingly moved into close proximity with Taylor and Miss Patty and Kirk just so your daughter will get to know Luke and April and the rest of her quirky family. I have never seen that little girl hungry or scared or wearing anything less than immaculately clean clothes. You've done good, Jess. And it's okay to feel overwhelmed every now and again."

Jess sighed the sigh of a man who ran a marathon in his soul. "Thanks, Lane. And sorry for yelling at you."

"'Thanks' and 'sorry'. Two words teenage Jess never said, but that grownup Jess uses to great effect," Lane smiled. "And I will talk to Steve about what he said. Have him apologise to Lily, if you want."'

"Maybe it might just be for the best to have it blow over and not remind her of it." Jess frowned. "Does the second guessing ever stop?"

"Maybe when they hit puberty," Lane mused. "Now, if the shouting and the Seventh Heaven moments are all out of the way, I need to go wait on some tables."

"I'll come with you. If I leave Lily alone for too long, Taylor gets upset."

They left the apartment. Unbeknownst to Jess, Lorelai had indeed spent the night in the apartment above the diner. And this morning, Rory had brought her mother coffee in bed and the Lorelais were sitting cross-legged on the bed when Jess burst in with Lane. In his fury and her shock, neither one noticed the Gilmore girls. Lorelai looked at Rory, who was staring at the door as though she wanted to follow Jess and was too afraid to do so. "Poor Jess. The why-is-one-of-my-parents-missing-conversation is no fun," Lorelai murmured. "I remember when you asked me why your father didn't feature more prominently in your life. I don't remember exactly what I replied, but I remember obsessing about it for weeks afterwards and wondering if I said the right thing."

"You told me that there are different types of families in the world, just like there are different types of candy," Rory recalled.

"Did it work?"

Rory bit her lip and shrugged. "I don't think any kid ever stops blaming herself for not having both parents around."

Lorelai pulled Rory into a hug.

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Rory studied her reflection in the car door critically. Anyone would've told her instantly that the aquamarine silk was the perfect match for her eyes and that the cut of the dress, with an embroidered bodice leading to a skirt that flared out over her hips, suited her slender figure and emphasised her femininity. But she wanted to make sure that she looked not just pretty and not just beautiful, but perfect.

For the donors, of course.

"Well, Gilmore, it's too late to change now," she told herself firmly and locked the Prius before striding into the Peach Room. The Peach Room was one of Hartford's most exclusive, luxurious venues and it had been decorated with a subdued Christmas spirit tonight. The traditional red and green decorations made way for sparkling white fairy lights; Rudolf and Santa were replaced by elegantly crafted crystal stars and Rory recognised the string quartet from the night before. She grimaced to herself, wondering how many more stringed versions of Away In A Manger she could endure before shoving the bow down the violinist's throat. She scanned the room for familiar figures, noticing a few faces from her days in Hartford high society and recognising others from their prominence in business papers.

"Ah, here is our newest acquisition." Professor Tarkington beckoned her over with a crooked finger and she willingly went to one of few faces she was personally acquainted with. "Rory Gilmore, granddaughter of Richard and Emily. You know the Gilmores, Floyd? I believe you have had some business dealings with Richard.

"Richard and I have done business since we argued over who gets what cut of the Whiffenpoofs' income," Floyd Stiles slickly said, bringing Rory's hand to his lips for an oily kiss. She just managed not to flinch at his touch. "Hello again, Rory. Jonathan is very excited about having you join his staff."

"Although I believe you come, ah, highly recommended?" the overly styled blonde at Floyd's side smirked. "Jonathan would be excited about me too, if I could get all my rich former lovers to sing my praises."

"And I'm sure there's many rich former lovers to sing your praises," Rory said with innocent sweetness, a glint of steel in her eyes.

"And there are many praises of Rory to be sung," Logan Huntzberger said, materialising at Rory's side. He glanced at her quizzically. "Was that the most grammatically correct way to phrase that?"

"At least you didn't end on a preposition," Rory stammered, feeling her heart slam against her ribs. Undoubtedly the tuxedo Logan wore was from a designer who earned more in a week than the people of Burkina Faso did in a year. But he could've worn jeans and a grungy Nirvana T-shirt and still have been the most handsome man in the room. "Paris would be so proud."

He looked so styled and poised and so ... Logan.

"Making Paris proud? Then I have accomplished one of my life's missions," Logan said with the expansive grin Rory remembered so well. He took two glasses from a passing waiter and handed one to Rory. "Let's toast." He clinked the side of his glass against hers and looked at her. "To accomplishing all of our life's missions. However long it may take."

Rory gulped down her champagne, hardly tasting the Moët that steadied her nerves. "However long it may take," she echoed.