A/N: A big hug to Jewels for her love and encouragement and awesome comma-fighting skills.
The doctor braced himself before he stepped through the swinging doors and it turned out his instincts were correct. His patient's family fell on him at once.
"What is going on here?" the father demanded. "We thought she'd passed this point months ago!"
"It's like we're right back where we started! It's like you've done nothing at all!" the mother shrilly admonished him.
"I informed you of this when we first started treatment," the doctor reminded them firmly. "I told you that the chance of relapse is always a possibility. That's why we've been building up her strength, to give her something to fall back on in case this happened."
The father snorted in derision. "How farsighted of you, to build failure into your treatment plan."
"We haven't failed," the doctor snapped. "This is a setback, that's all. Give her some time to stabilize. Give her some time to put the pieces back together."
The mother tossed her head. "Very well; we will. That gives us time to solicit a second opinion. How fortunate for us."
The doctor watched them stride off with a sigh. Only as he turned to go back through the doors did he notice the young woman sitting quietly in the chair.
"Do you want to yell at me too?" he asked her kindly.
She shook her head, her slight smile doing nothing to dispel the sadness on her face. "She looks like she's hurting. Is it hurting her again?"
"Yes," he admitted, as gently as he could.
She bit at her bottom lip. "I don't want her hurting anymore."
He squatted down beside her chair. He took a moment to think through what he wanted to say. "I can help her to get better," he said slowly. "But I can't do it without the pain. I know that doesn't make any sense. But the pain is actually helping. The pain is forcing her to make choices, and those choices are making her better. Today isn't so much a setback as it is a detour. She'll get back on track again. Can you see that? Can you see how much she has improved, despite this?"
Her sigh seemed to be pulled up from her toes. "Yes," she said, her shoulders relaxing a bit. She tilted her head thoughtfully, and the doctor waited for her question. But instead, she almost smiled.
"You know, you do kind of look like George Clooney."
He grinned. "Your mother tells me that all the time."
It was a glorious fall. Probably the most spectacular one seen in Connecticut in the past decade. The leaves were all crisp crimson and a burnished gold that flamed to perfection in front of a deep sapphire sky. The temperature was ideal, hovering in the mid-seventies each day. Rain stayed away and the foliage clung persistently to the branches.
Tourists clogged Stars Hollow's streets. They drank up all of the cider that the mill could crank out. They ate up every burger that Luke could flip. They called and stopped by the Dragonfly, trying to wheedle a place to stay so that they could bask in the picturesque fall scenery for just one more day.
Lorelai and the rest of the staff at the Dragonfly were being run ragged. She'd had to rearrange a prospective trip for the Durham Group as she dealt with the mass of leaf peepers demanding rooms. Their work schedules had been hijacked as they all pitched in to cover the hours.
One Thursday afternoon Lorelai had a few hours to spend at home. She was going to have to go back and help out with the evening shift, but she was looking forward to collapsing on the couch and maybe sneaking in a nap as she pretended to watch a movie. If she felt extra-motivated, maybe she'd toss a load into the washing machine before she crashed on the couch.
As she eased herself down on the lumpy cushions, clutching a pillow to her, she was thankful it was already the second week in October. The leaves would be gone soon, and as much as her bank account loved having the Dragonfly booked to full capacity, it would be a relief to get back to a normal schedule.
Just as she started to fish around on the coffee table for the remote, her cell started to buzz. Her stomach gave a lurch and her feet hit the floor as she glanced at the number showing on the display.
She flipped the phone open as she brought it up to her ear. "Did you hit the wrong number?"
She heard Luke's deep chuckle. "No, I knew who I was callin'."
She nodded, even as she realized he couldn't see her. This was weird; really weird. Her welcome back pie in the diner had begun a new phase for them. They were cordial and friendly, and sometimes even slipped back into the quasi-insulting banter that had once been a staple for them. She stopped by the diner maybe three times a week, careful, however, to never sit intimately at the counter if at all possible. He insisted that Paul Anka stay with him when she was out of town and she'd even made a joke about them sharing custody. But they were still cautious, still leery about whatever this 'friend' thing was now between them. And whatever it was, it didn't include spontaneous phone calls just to shoot the breeze.
"Did you want to talk to Paul Anka?" she asked next.
The dog lying on the floor beside her raised his head to look at her.
He paused, making her nerves twist tighter. "No, I wanted to ask you a favor."
"Oh." Her fingers were pulling apprehensively at a loose thread on the pillow. "Well, ask away."
He cleared his throat and her anxiety bunched up even more as she realized he was nervous, too.
"I was wondering if you'd go with me to look at a house." His voice lacked the confidence she remembered as his trademark.
"A house?" she asked, needing something to say while her brain scrambled over his request.
"Yeah. There's a house over on Walnut that's for sale. The listing sounds good, and I know to look at the foundation and the window casings and the plumbing under the sinks, but I don't know girl stuff."
Breath caught in her throat and hurt as she held it there. "Girl stuff?" she asked after she'd exhaled. "Like sequins and glossy pink?"
"Whatever it is that women need in a house. You know. Whatever it is that makes a house a…a home," he finished up, sounding totally embarrassed.
"Frilly curtains?" she parried, not sure that she was up to this. In fact, she was pretty sure she wasn't. Her heart was already icing over at just the thought of looking at a house that she'd never share with him.
"It's just, you're really good at this," he said, and she could tell by the lack of background noise that he'd stepped into somewhere private. "I remember when you looked at that apartment with me. You spotted all sorts of things I didn't because you were looking for different things. I really don't want to screw this up. So would you go with me? Please?"
Her eyes squeezed shut. Sure. Of course he didn't want to screw up anything with April. She swallowed down her jealousy.
"Well, since you said please."
"Really?"
"Sure. Why not?" She threw the pillow, like caution, to the floor.
"I called the Dragonfly first, and they said you weren't there. Are you home?"
"Yeah," she said, ignoring with determination the way her throat automatically closed up on hearing him call her house home. "Yeah, I'm home."
"I'll swing by and pick you up in a couple of minutes then," he told her.
She was no longer that woman who didn't see the big picture. Now she was the compulsive over-thinker who was playing the upcoming chess match out in her head. It was better, she'd learned, to always be prepared.
For example, today she started walking to the end of her drive as soon as she heard the truck. That way as soon as he pulled in she could reach for the door handle. No opportunity for him to get out and help her in. One potential awkward situation nipped in the bud. Umpteen-thousand yet to go.
Their conversation was stilted at first. It always was. It took them awhile to find their rhythm again. In the age of 'before' she would have just spouted the first thing that crossed her mind, but in this new era she practiced caution.
"So you're still looking at houses, huh?"
"Yeah." He shook his head slightly as he shifted gears. "I can't find anything that seems to fit."
She paused, weighing her words. "You know, April doesn't really want to leave the diner."
"I know," he admitted. "But ever since you mentioned it, it just seemed like the right thing to do. I keep thinking that if we just find the perfect place, she'll fall in love with it."
"Maybe," Lorelai agreed feebly, not wanting to derail his hopes.
They drove in silence for a few moments. Luke glanced over at her and then looked away, almost shyly. "I almost called you last night."
"Oh?" She couldn't imagine why.
She watched the skin over his cheekbones stretch as he tried to hold back a glowing smile. "April wanted me to go to a thing at her school. I'd taken her down to Mystic right after school started. She took a slew of pictures and turned 'em into ―" He frowned. "Not slides. What d'ya call it?"
"Powerpoint?" Lorelai suggested.
"That's it." He nodded. "She wrote up a report about how it's important to remember the past, and she threw in some marine biology and oceanography stuff, too, and her teachers liked it so much they showed it last night at Back to School Night. They're going to submit it to some sort of statewide contest that the PTA sponsors."
"Oh, Luke!" She was genuinely thrilled and beaming just as brightly as he was. "That's fantastic! How proud are you, huh?"
He grinned and ducked his head modestly. "But that's not what I wanted to tell you."
"There's more?" she teased. "What? She got a book deal out of it? Spielberg is calling?"
"Afterwards, the halls were packed. I couldn't find her right away, you know? Then I heard someone yell 'Dad!'" His jaw tensed as he battled emotion for a moment. "It was her," he explained unnecessarily, his voice thick. "It was April, shouting for me."
She watched her hand fly up to his shoulder, where it gave him an understanding squeeze before she yanked it back and glared at it. "That's wonderful, Luke. That must have made you so happy," she said, making her voice as gentle as possible.
He looked like he'd unearthed buried treasure.
"You know, you can call me anytime with news like that," she assured him.
He nodded then looked at her purposely. "I know April emails you."
Worry skittered over her. "Not often," she protested, prepared to defend herself.
"There's nothing wrong with it," he said at once, attempting to be soothing. "I think it's a good thing. She looks forward to hearing from you."
Her nerves stepped down from DEFCON 2. She bit at her thumbnail. "I've been…torn about it. I like hearing from her, too, but I've been worried about Anna's reaction."
"Don't worry about Anna." His voice was firm. "We've taken care of Anna. April and I sat her down and got some things cleared up. I let her know that if you're a part of my life, you're going to be a part of April's life." He looked proud and nodded his head authoritatively.
She attempted to look pleased, too, even though grief and an irritated chorus of 'Now you do that?' churned through her.
"Well, good," she said weakly. "I'm glad that's taken care of, then."
They stopped in front of the house with the for sale sign. Lorelai jumped out and used her long legs to power towards the front door, once again avoiding his customary door-opening.
"This is really nice," she threw back at him as she hopped up the ample concrete steps to the porch that ran the width of the house. It was a well-cared-for Craftsman-style bungalow, sided with dark brown shingles and moss-green trim. "This porch is great." She inclined her head towards the one side. "You could have a swing over there. Great place to sit and gossip with Eastside Tillie. She just lives down at the corner."
"Sure," Luke said distractedly. He was busy testing the porch floor for loose boards or any weak spots.
"Good afternoon." They both jumped when Brian emerged from the front door. Lorelai stopped herself just in time from gaping at him. His shoulders seemed broader in the golden jacket. "It's good to see the two of you," he said, sounding professionally friendly, and Lorelai wondered when that had happened. When had he transformed into an adult?
"Hey, Brian," she said, waving.
He smiled at her and then stepped to Luke, handing him a folder. "This house is a real gem. The current owners have taken care of it with love. Here's the details, square footage, room dimensions, and everything else." He turned again to Lorelai. "I'm going to go sit in my car and catch up on some paperwork, let you go through the house at your own pace. I find most prospective clients appreciate that. But if you have any questions at all, you come and get me, OK?"
"Thanks, Brian." She was so busy watching him that Luke got to the door first. She forced a smile as he held it open for her.
Then she forgot everything as she turned around and around in the magazine-worthy living room. Two large windows faced the porch, while two small ones high up on the western wall bathed the wood trim in perfect golden light from the late afternoon rays. "Oh," she breathed out, completely overwhelmed by the atmosphere. "This is nice, Luke. Really nice. Look at the natural woodwork in here!"
"Hmm," he grunted, frowning as he looked over the space with a critical eye.
Lorelai was enchanted with the room. "There's no fireplace, but look at these bookcases!" She walked over and stood beside the built-ins flanking the entrance to the rest of the house. Her hand lightly ran over the assortment of books and keepsakes displayed on a shelf. "April would love these, huh?"
"Yeah," he said, but she could tell he was mostly concerned with structural issues. She watched as he glanced at the statistics page Brian had given him and then paced off the length of the room.
Smiling to herself, she let him concentrate and walked over to where the sunlight was beaming in from the high windows. She tipped her face and closed her eyes, letting the yellow October rays bathe her in the soothing warmth.
When she opened them again she found Luke watching her, a look on his face that she couldn't readily identify. They both shied away at once, as though looking at each other was something of which they should be ashamed.
Lorelai swiftly headed for the passage between the bookshelves. "Let's see if the rest of the house measures up," she said.
She stopped at the first doorway, confusion crossing her face. "What do you think this is? Dining room?"
Luke peered over her shoulder. "Maybe."
She entered and looked around. The current owners had the room half-full of moving boxes. Obviously they were getting prepared to vacate the home quickly.
"I think dining room," she decreed. She moved to the side wall. "See? It's a built-in buffet. Really pretty, too."
Luke stepped in, his eyes taking in the dimensions of the space. "Do you think a table would fit in here?"
"Yeah, I do. It's just deceiving with all of the boxes." She was pulling open the drawers in the built-in. She straightened up and turned around to face him. "Of course, you wouldn't have to use it as a dining room. Maybe you'd want to use it like a den, or a home office. It might be a nice place for April to do homework. This could work as a good place for a computer," she said, patting the buffet.
Luke nodded, studying the layout thoughtfully. "It might work," he agreed.
Anxious to see the rest of the house, she pushed past him and walked down the short hall to the kitchen.
"Uh-oh," she said at once. "This might be the deal breaker right here."
"What's wrong?" he asked, right on her heels.
"It doesn't really match the rest of the house." Lorelai was busy examining the room. "I wonder if it was remodeled at some point. It kind of screams 'disco,' don't you think?" She pulled on a cabinet door. "These are just sad. And it's tiny. Don't you think it's tiny? I mean, you'd want a nice big kitchen, wouldn't you? Or maybe you wouldn't. Maybe you don't want a kitchen at all, after cooking all day at the diner." She couldn't stop the words flying out of her mouth any more than she could stop herself from flying around the kitchen and pulling open drawers. She had to keep talking so that the words uppermost in her head didn't accidentally come spilling out: If I'd let you change the kitchen at the Crapshack, would you have stayed? If I'd let you more into my life, would you have let me into yours?
Luke was in the middle of the room now, his arms bunched at his sides as he studied it from corner to corner. "It's not that bad," he decided. He moved to the counter along the back wall and stretched his arms out as far as he could reach. "It's still more counter space than I have right now in the apartment."
"You could remodel, if you wanted to," Lorelai suggested.
"Sure." He squatted down to pull open the doors under the sink. He looked natural and completely at home, and Lorelai fled down the small connecting hallway to the rooms on the other side of the house to get away from the sight.
She poked her head into the first bedroom. It wasn't large, but it was a decent size, and it had another of the high rectangular windows on the western wall. The large brass bed fit with plenty of room on either side of it. She admired the pattern on the area rug that partially covered the dark wood floor.
She strolled inside and looked around, curious about the people living here. A large gilt-framed picture caught her eye over an armoire, and she stepped closer to examine it. Phantom icy hands squeezed the air out of her lungs when she beheld the happy bride and groom in the photo. She was already stumbling backwards towards the door when she realized that it was the bride's desiccated bouquet on display underneath the photo.
"That's what you get for being nosy," she chastised herself.
"What?" Luke asked, as she nearly ran over him in the doorway.
"Check the closet space," she ordered him, carefully stepping by. "Make sure it's enough. Wouldn't want the flannels to be all bunched up."
She took two steps down the hall until she could grab the doorframe into the next room. It was a small bathroom, the walls covered in the tiny ceramic tiles that were once again coming into favor. The floor had the same tiles in a black and white checkerboard pattern. Several of them were chipped or missing, but the overall look of the room was authentically vintage and quite satisfactory.
Pleased, Lorelai continued to the last bedroom. One peek inside made her gasp. The room forced her to step inside; she really had no option.
It looked like someone had sprayed the contents of a bottle of Pepto-Bismol on the walls. To say it was pink was like saying Stars Hollow was a little quirky. In this room, pink was not just a detail of design. It was a lifestyle choice.
She looked at the toddler bed, the headboard of which was cleverly designed to function as a dollhouse. A magenta feather boa hung from one post, a pair of gossamer fairy wings from another. A small table in the corner was laid out with a lavender tea set, obviously just waiting for the teddy bears to come and dine. Books were scattered around a rocking chair by the bed. Lorelai smiled, almost sadly, when she spied Goodnight Moon.
She heard his boots clomping down the hall. "Lorelai, I don't know how much closet space is supposed to be enough," he complained as he stepped into the room. She heard him stop abruptly. "Wow," he said, slowly looking around.
"The room's not very big," she said, her voice coming out hushed, as though the room's little occupant was already asleep in bed. "But if April's only here one or two nights a week, it should be fine. You'll probably want to repaint it, though," she added, once again preparing to duck away from him and the hopes she'd once harbored.
For some reason she paused at the door. She looked back. She watched as he stepped further into the room, his face reflecting what she thought was confusion. She understood that. What did he know of tiny pink ballerinas and pretend tea parties?
But then his rough hand reached out and experimentally touched the feather boa lassoed around the post. She saw the regret etch itself into the lines around his mouth. Her heart contracted and her own discomfort was cast off while she moved back to stand beside him.
"I'm sorry," she said, this time giving her hand permission to sympathetically rub at his shoulder. Her voice was still just above a whisper in volume. "I'm so sorry you missed all of this with April."
"No, that's not …" He trailed off as he rubbed a hand over his jaw. "I'm sorry I missed that, sure. But I'm glad I'm getting to know her now. But that's not ―" He turned towards her and pulled himself together. "Never mind," he grumbled.
She looked at him curiously, at the same time thankful, she thought, that he'd cut himself off. She nodded and headed again for the door.
"Wait."
The diminutive size of everything in the room made him seem even taller as he stood there, one thumb hooked into the pocket of his jeans. He looked around again at the essential little-girlness of the room before his eyes came back to her.
"I wasn't thinking about April." He shook his head, apparently still disagreeing with the words about to come out of his mouth. "I was thinking about how I always thought I was going to get to do this with you."
She put as much of herself as possible behind a barricade in her heart and then turned the numb side out. "That would have been nice." Her voice was amazingly calm.
"Would it?" He looked at her sharply. "It seems to me that was a big part of our problem. We talked all the time about everything except what was actually important. Like kids. How long was that conversation? Maybe 30 seconds?"
"'Kids would be nice,'" she remembered.
"But is that how you really felt?" he challenged her.
"Maybe not right at that moment," she admitted. "I was crazed over Rory and everything was moving so fast with us that kids were the last thing I wanted to think about. But in the future? Sure. That would've been great."
Something about her voice was a little too pat. She was holding herself aloof and he felt it.
"Forget it," he said curtly. "I thought maybe we could learn to really talk now, but it doesn't matter. Water under the bridge, right? Let's go." He marched to the doorway.
That's what she wanted, wasn't it? She wanted this conversation to end. She wanted to forget all of the 'what ifs' that had swirled down the drain. She didn't want to open herself up to the disappointments again.
"There was one time I thought maybe I was pregnant." Her voice shocked them both.
He stopped dead. "You didn't tell me?" he asked, appalled.
"It wasn't like that." She moved over to the table and fingered one of the plastic teacups. "I knew I wasn't. I knew I couldn't be. It was just this …" She tried to come up with the right words to explain. "It was a fantasy, for a few hours. It was just something that I sort of wished for. So I did want it, Luke, just not right then."
"But you would have told me?" he asked, still anxious for clarification.
"Well, I think you would have caught on when you couldn't see my feet for my stomach."
"Lorelai!" He was fuming, not amused.
"By the next time I saw you, I already had gotten my period. It wasn't like I was keeping anything from you. It was just a little game of pretend for a little bit. We hadn't even been together for that long at the time."
He looked at her speculatively. "When was this?"
Despite her best efforts, a small, satisfied smile was playing over her lips. "After that night in the limo."
"Oh." To her surprise, that same smile settled on his mouth. He glanced down at the floor, and when he looked back up, the only thing she could think about his expression was that it made him look sexy as hell. "That would be the only thing that could've topped that night," he suggested, his eyes dancing.
"Oh, yeah," she agreed, actually grinning back at him. "A pop-up pregnancy would have been the perfect souvenir."
For a few moments the warmth from their shared memory thawed the tension in the room. Instead of ducking away in embarrassment, it drew them closer.
"I wouldn't have minded," he said, his voice as soft as she'd ever heard it.
Scenes from the past year flashed through her brain so fast she felt dizzy. What a difference it would have made if her apple craving had been based in reality. How much things would have been altered if they'd been married and she hadn't been able to see her feet when April had biked over to the diner for the first time.
"I wouldn't have minded, either," she told him from her heart.
His face turned regretful again. "We should have talked about this."
She nodded. "If we had, then you would have known what I was thinking. Instead, I just assumed you knew."
He rubbed a knuckle over his mouth. "I wish ―"
"Hey, folks!" Brian poked his head into the room and once again they both jumped. "How do you like the house so far?"
Luke shot him a dirty look, but Lorelai managed to smile. "It's a great place, Brian. Why are the people moving?"
"They're expecting their second child. They need a bigger place," he explained.
"Hope it's a boy," Lorelai murmured to Luke with a wink, and then she followed Brian out to see the back yard.
"This is incredible," she said, stepping out onto a huge deck. A pergola sheltering the western edge was still covered with green morning glory vines. "This is worth the whole price of the house, right out here."
She clattered down the three wooden steps into the lush backyard. It seemed to stretch forever. She cut across the grass to a small shed tucked along the property line.
"Luke! Luke, come here!" she shrieked, as soon as she looked through a window into the building. She could not contain her excitement. "It's perfect!"
He took his time getting to her. He looked at her suspiciously before he bent to peer in through the window. "It's a workshop," he stated matter-of-factly.
She rolled her eyes. "Yes it is, Mr. Stick-in-the-Mud! A workshop! Who's always wanted a workshop, huh?"
A small smile worked over his mouth. He shrugged his shoulders, continuing to stare inside.
"Admit it, Luke. It's perfect. It's like it was set up for you." She inclined her head towards the rest of the yard. "You're all private and isolated back here, tucked away from the nosy neighbors. You've got your man cave to escape to back here. You've got a deck to put a grill on and kick back with a beer. It's pretty damn perfect."
He looked around the perimeter thoughtfully. "It's the best thing I've seen, that's for sure."
They took a few more minutes to look around. Luke asked Brian some questions and told him he'd maybe like to bring April by over the weekend to see her reaction. Soon they said goodbye and were back in the truck.
"So. What are your thoughts?" Lorelai asked at once.
"Not bad. There were a lot of things I really liked. I guess it all boils down to what April thinks."
Lorelai nodded but her thoughts were already leaping far ahead. "Do you see yourself living there forever, or just until April goes to college?"
His forehead crinkled. "Forever, I guess."
"Well then, you might want someplace bigger."
He quickly turned to stare at her. "Why? Once April moves out I wouldn't even need that much room."
Her fingernails pressed into her palms as she pushed herself to open up. If they were really going to talk, if she was really going to be his friend, she needed to start telling him what she thought. "Luke, chances are you're not going to be alone by the time April goes to college. It might be better if you find a house now that will fit your life later."
"Are you implying ―" He bit back the rest of the words as he stared straight out through the windshield. "You're insane."
She sighed. "No, I'm not. You know there are a dozen women who'd throw themselves at your feet right now. Someday you'll trip over the right one. You might as well be prepared for it."
He snorted with contempt as he forced the truck around a turn. "You want to examine my track record? Rachel, Anna, Nicole? You? No thank you," he said bitingly. "I think I'm sitting on the bench from here on out."
She straightened her fingers out over her skirt and studied them. The diamond sparkled back at her like a laser, surgically incising the skin right over her heart. "You shouldn't close yourself off," she ventured. "You don't know what might happen yet. You could date someone that's ―"
"No." His adamant voice tried to shut her down.
"Luke." She was giving this her all. "You don't know that. I mean, I…I tried," she admitted.
"Tried what?"
"Dating." She watched his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. "While I was in Utah. I…dated."
"Oh?" He looked grim. "And how'd that go for you?"
"It was great." She was bobbing her head. "We had a really good time." She drew in a breath and looked down at her hands again. "I freaked out in the middle of the restaurant and begged him to take me home," she admitted. Her head jerked up when she heard him give a wry chuckle.
"Yeah, I tried that too."
Something molten and suffocating was slithering through her chest. "You? You went on a date?" It was one thing to suggest generically that he should date so he wouldn't be alone and quite another to find out he'd actually done it. There was no way she could keep the shrill note of panic out of her voice. "Who? Who did you date?"
"April's swim coach. She engineered it, so I didn't think I could say no." He met her eye and smiled, like they were comrades-in-arms. "It was awful beyond words."
"Well, good. I mean, that's too bad. I mean…" She stopped to take a breath while everything went spinning in her head. "I still don't think you should shut down that possibility," she ventured, wanting to cut her tongue out.
They'd made it to the house and Luke turned off the truck. "I won't say never. I'm old enough to know you should never say that. But it's not going to happen now. I need more time." He looked over at her and seemed to calculate something. "Probably we both do."
She took a moment to pull herself together and that was all the time he needed to come around the truck to open her door. So much for her avoidance dance.
He walked with her to the front door because she couldn't think of any way to tell him not to without sounding incredibly rude.
"Well, good luck with the house," she said, trying to put as much sincerity into the words as possible. She opened the door, hoping he'd get the message to leave.
Instead he was examining the shutters and the front window on the porch. "These need to be caulked before winter," he muttered, running his finger over the sill. He stepped over to the edge of the house and felt the siding. "These boards are loose again over here, too. Why don't I come over on Saturday and do some winterizing for you?"
"Oh, Luke, no ―" she started.
"It's no problem," he insisted. "I mean, how many times have I done it? It'll just take me a couple of hours and then you'll be set."
"I don't ―" she tried again.
"You don't even need to be here," he added. "It'll be all done when you get home." He nodded, satisfied, and headed back to the truck. "Thanks for coming with me today."
She waved back at him curtly. "Sure."
She slammed the door behind her and kicked off her shoes just to see them fly across the room. She straightened the cushions on the couch with more force than necessary. She smacked the pillows into place.
An unfamiliar feeling crawled across her. She was experiencing something ― something unpleasant. She kicked at pile of magazines teetering next to the couch and watched approvingly as they toppled, snaking across the floor.
She grabbed the phone and pushed Rory's number. She counted each ring, feeling even more upset when she realized Rory probably wasn't around to answer.
"Well, hello you." Rory's voice was breathless but fond.
"Can you talk?" she asked harshly.
"Um, sure." She listened to rustlings and faint voices in the background before she heard a door click shut. "Man, what's got you pissed?"
Relief spread through her. "You're right. I'm pissed. That's it exactly!"
Rory chuckled. "Glad I could help. So what did Michel do this time?"
"Not Michel," she grumbled without thinking. "It's Luke."
She could actually feel Rory's concern sliding towards her over the air. "Luke?" she asked, her voice carefully tilted towards faux-casual. "What'd Luke do?"
"He didn't do anything," she was forced to admit, kicking at the pile of magazines again. "That's why I'm calling you, because I'm not sure why I'm so pissed at him."
"Start at the beginning," Rory advised.
She sighed and plopped down on the couch. "He asked me to go look at a house. He's still looking for someplace he and April could live."
There was a pause before Rory responded. "That couldn't have been easy."
Lorelai saw him again as he was in the Pink Princess room, his finger touching the feather boa. "No, it was OK. We…We talked some. Really talked. That part was good."
"Well, good, then," Rory said, encouragingly.
"It was when we got back here that the pissiness started."
"He was at the house?" Rory asked. Her voice was carefully neutral.
"Just on the porch. He wants to come over and 'fix' things," Lorelai said sarcastically.
"Such as?"
"Windows. Siding."
"And that's bad?"
"Yes! No!" She looked around in vain for something else to kick. "It just doesn't seem right."
"Well, it's what he used to do," Rory pointed out reasonably.
Something clicked. "Yeah, that's what he used to do." The tension eased inside of her. "But it's not like it used to be."
"Go on," Rory suggested.
Lorelai slid on the couch until her head was resting on the arm. "It's not the same. We've been through hell and him wanting to go back to the way it was before we meant anything to each other just seems dishonest."
"Maybe that wasn't his intention," Rory ventured. "Maybe he does just want to help. That's Luke, you know."
That was my Luke, she thought, and he's not my Luke anymore.
She cleared her throat as she tried to push the yearning away. "The Crapshack's my responsibility," she stated. "It's my job to keep it together. I don't need him here fixing stuff that I should be fixing and leaving more reminders around of how I screwed up."
Rory was silent for a few seconds while Lorelai's words hovered between them. "Then you need to figure out a way to tell him that. A nice way," she warned.
"I'll be nice," Lorelai muttered.
"You're doing fine, Mom. I know this is hard, but you're doing a good job figuring it all out. I'm proud of you."
The praise from her daughter put a Band-Aid on her battered heart. "Thanks, Sweets."
They talked a few more minutes about inconsequential stuff. After she said goodbye Lorelai stared up at the ceiling, wondering if the cracks in the plaster were foretelling some dire roof repairs. She swung her feet to the floor as she opened her phone and scrolled until she found Tom's number. Then she called him and asked him to recommend a handyman capable of taking over her home repairs.
The next morning Lorelai was intercepted on her way to Luke's.
"There she is! Lorelai, you naughty, naughty girl!" Miss Patty's arms squeezed her so hard she felt ribs move.
"Whoa, there, Patty!" she protested, trying to extricate herself before permanent harm was done. "I've done nothing to justify a hug like that."
"Don't play coy with me, dear." Patty's face glowed as she leaned closer to Lorelai. "I heard all about your little house-hunting trip with Luke. I had no idea things had progressed so far with the two of you! That makes me so happy I'm going to overlook the fact that Eastside Tillie was the one who got the scoop from Brian."
"There's no scoop, Patty." Lorelai wanted to smack herself. How stupid was she to forget the Stars Hollow Gossip All-Stars? "Luke's trying to find a house for when April visits here. It has nothing to do with me."
Patty's chuckle sounded patronizing. "Of course not, dear." She winked at Lorelai. "Next time just let me know ahead of time, OK? I really want to put one over on that Walnut Street broad!"
Lorelai felt yesterday's misplaced anger sloshing through her again as she watched Patty gaily wave goodbye on her way to the dance studio. She yanked open the door of the diner impatiently. The last thing she needed was more speculation about her and Luke.
For once she had no qualms about plunking herself down at the counter. Today she had an agenda.
"Be with you in a minute," Luke nodded at her as he zipped by with steaming plates.
"I'm not staying," Lorelai threw out at him. "I'm not ordering. Just wanted to let you know the household repairs are taken care of. You're off the hook." She swiveled the stool around and slid off, preparing to stomp back out the door.
"What are you talking about?" He sat the plates down and rushed over to her. "Lorelai, wait!" he said, and grabbed her upper arm. "What's going on?"
She shook off his hand. "It's no big deal. I hired someone to fix the stuff on the porch you pointed out yesterday, that's all. You don't have to worry about it." Once again she tried to leave.
"Will you stop?" He sounded harried. He spread his arms and managed to herd her over to the end of the counter, somewhat away from the listening ears of the pancake-eaters. "Why would you hire someone to do that?"
"Because it's not your concern. It's not your house and not your responsibility." She heard the nasty note in her voice and tried to recalibrate. "Apparently it's all over town that I went to look at a house with you," she admitted to him grudgingly. "You bring Bert over to my house and we'll be number one with a bullet on the Gossip Top Ten again."
"Oh." He scowled as he considered that. "Well, I don't care," he finally said. "Let 'em think what they want."
She sighed as she rested her hip against the stool closest to her. "I care," she admitted softly. "I don't want to have to go through all of that speculation again. You pointed out to me months ago that there's nothing you ever have to do for me again. I think we should keep it that way."
He made a face at her reminder. "I know I don't have to do stuff, but I don't mind. It's not that big a deal, is it? I used to do fix the house for you all the time. Why shouldn't I do it now?"
"Because…" She fumbled for words to explain. "It's not before, Luke. It's now. It's now and it's different. We can't just turn the clock back a half-dozen years and pretend nothing's changed."
He looked confused. "I thought that's what we were trying for. Aren't we trying to be friends again?"
She bent her fingers against the edge of the counter, welcoming the little bit of pain that helped her to focus. "I don't think we can Quantum Leap back and forth over our history and just land on the part we want. We have to take it as a whole and go from there. As much as I'd love to go back in time and pretend, that's not the way it is."
He looked irritated. "It's just a little bit of caulk and some nails, Lorelai. I don't see that it's that big of a deal."
"No, but it goes back to me being able to stand on my own. I relied on you too much before, I think. I can't do that anymore."
"So…what? I'm not allowed to do anything for you? Tell me what's permitted. I don't want to step over the line here." Disdain was pouring out of him.
She shook her head, easing herself onto the stool again. "I don't have all the answers, Luke. I wish I did. I don't think there's a book on this. I don't think there's a book called 'He Used to Be Into You but Now He's Not.'" She gave another little sigh. "We're in unexplored territory here. And if either of us feels uncomfortable about something we need to be able to express it. And right now you having anything to do with the house just seems wrong."
She watched him ponder that as he reached for a mug and the coffeepot. He pushed the filled cup in front of her. "It feels wrong to me to not help you," he pointed out, slowly.
She felt the sadness filling up her throat, choking her, so she sipped at the hot coffee, hoping to swallow it away. "Maybe it won't always be this way," she explained, "but right now it is. Does that make any sense at all?"
He pushed up the band of his hat and rubbed his forehead crankily. "You've never made much sense to me. Why should that change now?"
She smiled at him and he scowled back. Just like old times.
"So can I cook breakfast for you, or is that on the forbidden list too?" he grumbled.
She pretended to weigh that over. "A special-order omelet might be too much, but scrambled eggs and bacon has just the right connotation to it, I think."
"Crazy lady," he muttered, heading for the grill.
Her spirits lightened. She guzzled her coffee and shoveled in the scrambled eggs when they appeared in front of her. Her good mood lasted until she stepped into the kitchen at the Dragonfly.
"Lorelai!" Sookie attacked her with a fierce hug. "Why didn't you tell me about the house and the Luke and the looking?" Sookie giggled as she gave her another squeeze, rocking them back and forth as she kept time to the rhyme that was continuing on in her head. "But it's OK. I forgive you. I'm just so happy to hear the news!"
Lorelai smacked her head and groaned. Then, resigned, she once again tackled rumor control.
The pretty fall weather ended with a thunderstorm that decimated the colorful leaves. Cold air turned the blue skies to gray. The days passed and witches and black cats and pumpkins took over the scenery.
The Luke and Lorelai gossip took a backseat to a water main break and a slight scandal involving Vern the florist and the assistant principal at the high school. Lorelai could once again enter the diner without the whispers starting.
She found that the feelings of sadness and regret that had been her constant companions had been supplanted by loneliness. The gunmetal sky and biting wind seemed to press the ache of her aloneness into her very soul.
On the day before Rory's birthday Lorelai was walking quickly through the center of town. She'd opted out of work in the middle of the afternoon to collect the party supplies she still needed to overwhelm her baby.
She was pulling the list out of her pocket when she spied a Prius parked across from the diner. Even though she knew the car was indeed Rory's, she couldn't reconcile the fact that her daughter was here without her knowing it. She circled the car, confirming the Yale parking tag hanging from the rearview before she could accept the obvious.
"Birthday Girl!" She bounced through the door, eagerly prepared to party with her daughter a day early. "Why didn't you tell me you were here?"
Her feet slowed as she took in the sight of Rory's pinched, sad face from where she sat on a stool at the counter. Luke's arms were crossed and he looked nearly murderous. She sensed she'd stumbled into something she wasn't supposed to see.
"Hey guys. What's going on?" She let her hand perch comfortingly on Rory's shoulder.
"I suppose this was your idea," Luke shot at her.
Rory spoke up at once. "Mom doesn't know anything about this, Luke. This is all my idea."
Lorelai slid onto the stool next to Rory. "Well, your ideas are usually pretty good. Why don't you tell me what it is?"
For the first time she noticed the narrow black velvet case resting on the counter. Rory angled the case towards her and lifted the lid. The pearls nestled inside gave off a genteel rosy patina. "I'm giving these back to Luke," she explained.
"Oh, Rory." Lorelai glanced at Luke and noted the pain behind the bluster. She felt helpless. "Maybe you don't need to ―"
"Yes, I do," Rory said firmly, cutting her off. "I've thought about this a lot, and it's what I need to do."
Luke gave a snort of contempt.
Rory sighed. "Luke, you have no idea how much it meant to me last year when you gave these to me. Let's face it, I screwed up last year. I screwed up big time. But then you came to my party. That ridiculous, over-the-top party. You came and you even drank that disgusting pink drink. Then you gave me your mother's pearls." Rory pushed against a rung of the stool and leaned over to touch his arm. She looked relieved when his face softened.
She smiled as she settled back down onto the seat. "You did it in typical Luke fashion, like it didn't mean anything at all. But I knew it did. I knew it meant so much. To me it meant that you still loved me." She looked down at her lap, swallowing down the tears that Lorelai could feel in her own throat. "It meant that maybe I hadn't screwed up completely. It meant that maybe I could come home and find my way again." She looked back up at Luke and smiled at him, blinking hard. "They meant a lot."
He nodded, not looking as angry, but decidedly uncomfortable. "They're still yours," he insisted, shoving the case closer to Rory.
"No, they're not," she replied, her voice sounding every bit as stubborn as his. "When you gave them to me a year ago we thought…Well, we thought we were going to be family. But we're not now, are we?" Her eyebrows lifted as she stared at him, daring him to contradict her.
Lorelai could tell that he wanted to argue the point, wanted to somehow find a way to refute Rory's logic. But he couldn't. It was over, all over, and his slumping shoulders and weak head shake put an end to their love affair in the most definitive way possible. Her heart ached all over again.
"You have a daughter, Luke, it's just not me," Rory gently explained. "These need to go to April, not me."
Luke's hands balled into his hips as he averted his face. Lorelai felt like she was going to fly apart as she witnessed his anguish at yet another Gilmore betrayal.
"Rory," she tried again, "are you sure you have to do this? Are you sure you can't ―"
"Mom." Rory's voice was clear and determined. "I've admired how you've handled your mess so much. I've watched you try to make amends and live with your mistakes. It made me realize that I did a really lousy job of it when I came home last year. It made me realize that I have a lot of things to put right, too. This is one of the things that's been weighing heavily on me. These really don't belong to me." She carefully slid the case closer to him.
"Luke, I thank you for the sentiment that was in this gift," Rory said formally, standing up. The words sounded as though she'd rehearsed them. "I hope you understand why I need to give them back to you now."
She turned and started to walk to the door. Lorelai's head swiveled from Luke's painfully hunched shoulders to the determined set of her daughter's as she prepared to leave the diner.
Lorelai launched herself from the stool and trotted to catch up with Rory. "Sweetie," she said, grabbing the girl's arm. She swallowed hard, trying to latch onto some words to make this better. She inclined her head towards the devastated man slouching behind the counter. "Luke," was all she could force out. She hoped that was enough, that somehow the bond she shared with Rory would help her to understand what she was trying to explain.
Rory hesitated. She turned enough to see Luke and Lorelai watched as uncertainty washed over her face.
The next second Rory was hurtling herself back behind the counter. Luke looked up just in time to brace himself as she threw herself into his arms. He stumbled backwards from the force but managed to keep them both upright. She tucked her head against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.
Lorelai shakily made it back to the counter again. She reclaimed the stool just in time to hear Rory's whisper.
"I wanted it, you know? You, and Mom, and me. I really wanted that, Luke."
"I know," he whispered back. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head.
They pulled apart in the next moment, their familiar awkwardness towards each other making a reappearance. Luke tried to smile and Rory wiped her eyes as she stepped back.
"Maybe we could make some sort of a ― a rental agreement about the pearls," she suggested.
"What do you mean by that?" Luke asked suspiciously.
"Maybe April wouldn't mind if I borrowed them on special occasions," Rory continued. "There's a rumor that I'm actually going to graduate next spring. Maybe she'd be OK if I wore them on my graduation day."
Luke cleared his throat. "I think she'd go for that."
Rory nodded, and then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I might even get married someday. Maybe I could wear the pearls then." Her grin combined shyness with mischievousness.
"Only if I approve of the guy," Luke warned her.
"Deal." Rory was beaming.
The bells over the door rang out and Lorelai's head snapped around to see who was entering. She couldn't believe they'd managed to have this poignant scene without half the town witnessing it. Her head was dizzy and her insides had dissolved into a pool of emotion.
"I'd better get out of here before Kirk sees me and thinks he can come back here," Rory said. She touched Luke's hand and started back around the counter. "Hey," she said, stopping and looking back at him. "I just thought of something. Mom has an Almost-Mommy."
"What?" Luke looked back and forth between them, distrustfully.
"It's true," Lorelai murmured, surprised she could still speak. "Pennilynn Lott. She's my Dad's old college girlfriend."
"Anyway," Rory continued, "maybe you can be my Almost-Daddy."
Luke shook his head at both of them. "Only you two would come up with something that crazy."
"Sometimes life doesn't give you the family you need," Rory argued as she stepped around to Lorelai.
"So you have to go out and find them yourself," Lorelai added. She put her arm around Rory and they walked to the door.
She looked back to see him still standing rooted behind the counter, possibly shell-shocked. Their eyes met and locked in one of those moments of pure understanding that they used to share. They smiled and nodded, and just for a second she felt the warmth of his affection.
And then Rory tugged her out the door.
"Lorelai!" April's voice was shrill with excitement.
Lorelai spun around and watched the girl dash across the street, dodging a puddle left by the November rain the day before. "Hey, you!" she said, catching her up in a hug when she reached her.
"I haven't seen you in weeks!" April complained.
"I know. You've been busy," Lorelai commented.
"Stupid school," April grinned, knowing Lorelai wouldn't believe her.
"Stupid work," Lorelai groused, grinning as well. She put her arm around April's shoulder and nudged her down the street. "Do you have time to let me treat you to something at Weston's?"
"Hot chocolate?"
"Hot chocolate it is," Lorelai agreed. "Maybe a brownie as well, huh?"
"Chocolate overload!" April crowed.
Lorelai scoffed. "There's no such thing."
They ducked into Weston's and placed their order, both knowing exactly what they wanted. They found a little table in the corner and started taking off their cold weather gear.
"So how's Locker Boy?" Lorelai asked immediately.
April rolled her eyes, managing to give Luke's specialty a feminine flair. "He told Sasha he hoped I was going to Eli's party, but then he didn't talk to me all night!"
Lorelai sipped at her cocoa. "Man, he's got it bad."
"He's an idiot," April remarked.
"At your age, Sweetie, they all are. And I hate to tell you, but it stays that way for many, many years."
April segued into talking about a science experiment and Lorelai listened to the excited cadence of her voice. Sometimes April reminded her so much of Rory at that age that it made her ache inside.
"How's your mom?" Her nerves flared up as she asked even that simple question.
"OK," April shrugged, biting into her brownie. "She says we have to spend the entire Christmas break with my Grandma. I was hoping I'd have time to hang out here."
Lorelai commiserated with her while gently pointing out that her grandmother hadn't been well.
"I know," April sighed. She shifted in her seat. Her eyes darted to Lorelai's hesitantly. "Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Sure." She loved April's questions and settled herself back to enjoy it.
"It's about Dad."
She hadn't expected that. "Go ahead," she said gamely.
April stirred the whipped cream into her cocoa as she thought. "You guys were going to get married, right?"
The mouthful of dough and chocolate chips currently in her mouth turned to dust and she struggled to swallow. Surely she could handle simple answers.
"Yes."
April was frowning slightly. "Why didn't you?"
"Oh, honey, that's…" She wiped her damp palms against her slacks. "That's complicated."
"It can't be that complicated," April insisted. "You had to love each other enough to talk about getting married. Something had to happen to stop it. What was it?"
Lorelai wasn't finding April's usual bluntness charming today. "Sometimes things just don't work out."
April poked sullenly at her brownie. "Was it me?"
Lorelai gasped in distress. "Oh, April, no! Of course not!"
The look April leveled at her was much more sharp and knowing than she would have expected. April sat back and crossed her arms while she watched Lorelai. "He didn't tell me anything about you. Did he tell you about me?"
Lorelai gasped for the second time and frantically looked around the homey bakery, trying desperately to think of something to say.
"Why would he do that?" April demanded, taking her non-response as an answer.
"Boys are just stupid sometimes," Lorelai said as lightly as she could. She could feel sweat trickling down her sternum under her clingy sweater. "Maybe this is something you should talk to your dad about."
"I've tried," April said dismissively, pleating her napkin. "He gets this look like it's killing him so I don't do it anymore. That's why I wanted to ask you."
"Oh, boy," Lorelai muttered. She pretended to sip at her cocoa.
"Did you hate me?" April persisted.
Lorelai was glad she really hadn't taken a drink because she would have choked. "No, I didn't hate you." She took a calming breath and refocused. "I hated not getting to know you. That I hated."
April nodded attentively and Lorelai hoped that the worst was over.
"Was it Mom's fault?"
Lorelai squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. The girl was relentless.
"It wasn't anybody's fault, April. It was just the way it was."
"That's dumb."
"April ―"
"Why didn't you do something about it? Why did you let him get away with it?"
"It wasn't that simple ―"
"Of course it was. You loved him, right? Why couldn't you work it out?"
She hung her head and stared at the cookie crumbs in front of her. A thirteen-year-old was reading her the riot act and twisting her insides into knots. She looked up when she heard April sigh.
"And now you look like he did," the girl said. "Sorry, Lorelai."
"It's OK," Lorelai said, hoping she sounded braver than she felt. "We can talk about this." She smiled with as much grace as she could find. "You know how much I love to talk."
"It's just I don't get it. You still love him, right?"
For once she had no words. She licked at her silent lips, wondering what on earth she could possibly say.
April leaned across the small table and grabbed her hand, turning it so her palm was resting on the table. "See? You're still wearing the ring." April made the evidence sound like there was no other conclusion. "That's why you still wear it, right? Because you're still in love with him! Because you still think there's a chance you'll get back together, right?"
She snatched her hand away and hid it in her lap. She was appalled and mortified. She wanted to curl up underneath the table and hide until it was dark enough to slink away home. But across the table April was still waiting on an answer.
"Everybody loves a love story," she said, carefully choosing her words. "But the sad truth is that sometimes they just don't come true, and this is one of those times. Your dad had a life before he met me, and so did I. He had you, and your mom, and unresolved issues from lots of other things in his life. I had Rory, and a new business to run, and a ton of anger directed at my parents. For a while we tried to ignore all of that other stuff but it managed to squeeze in anyway. I wish I had a Disney ending for you, but I don't. There isn't any evil spell to break or some quest to go on to win the kingdom. It just didn't work."
April looked at her skeptically.
Under the table, Lorelai twisted the ring on her finger nervously. She searched through her conversation catalog for some way to end this particular piece of dialogue before April grew even more convinced that she and Luke were destined to get back together.
"You know how great your dad is," she began, the words faltering as she tried to put them together. "We were friends for a long time before we started dating, and I'm grateful that we're still friends now. I am really sorry that I missed out on the chance to be your step-mom, because you know I would have totally rocked that." She managed to do a little wink like she was still filled with the old Lorelai confidence. "I'm glad we've gotten to know each other now, though," she added. "That makes me really happy."
April was still studying her like she was on specimen slide under the microscope. Finally she shrugged and took another bite of her brownie. "Yeah, me too," she mumbled through a full mouth.
She didn't exactly sound convinced so Lorelai hustled to find another topic.
"So what else is on your agenda today? Can Paul Anka expect a visit?" She sipped at the hot chocolate that had lost its appeal as she listened to April list the things she hoped to accomplish during the day-and-a-half she'd be in Stars Hollow. She listened and smiled and inserted snarky comments whenever possible and made April laugh. At the same time she tried to contain all of her unchained emotions that were once again battering her defenseless heart to pieces.
Eventually all of the chocolate was consumed and she waved goodbye to April and watched her head down the street towards the library, her original destination. Lorelai was supposed to be on her way to the Dragonfly.
Instead she went back home. She wandered without purpose through the downstairs rooms, lingering in Rory's as she stood and read through all of the titles in her bookcase yet again. She went upstairs and ended up in her beautifully expanded bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror that covered the wall over both sinks.
She watched herself raise her hand. She studied the ring she wore.
She remembered the night he'd put it on her other hand. All she'd wanted to do that night was to curl up on Rory's bed and cry over her lost little girl. But Luke had shown up with a plan she didn't have the power to fight. They'd walked outside in the moonlight and he'd drawn her over to the chuppah where he'd slipped the ring on her finger. She remembered how she'd gushed over the ring and tried to make him believe that there was no pain in her heart at all. That there was only love for him as she'd kissed and teased him. She'd focused only on him as she'd enticed him upstairs, purposefully ignoring that empty darkness that had once been Rory's room. No one but him as she lay in his arms. She remembered listening to his heart beating so steadily while she cuddled against his chest, but in her mind she was seeing her daughter's face in the pool house only hours before. She'd held back her tears and instead only told him how happy she was.
Was that when it had all started to go wrong? She'd obscured her true feelings and lied and danced over every ache, keeping him at arm's length with everything concerning Rory. Why was she surprised when he did the same thing to her later with April? She had been his teacher. He was merely following her example. He probably figured that was how she wanted it to be.
Her eyes followed the flashes and sparks as the diamond caught the light and reflected it again in the mirror.
Was what April said true? Was she still wearing it because she thought she could get Luke back? Was that what everyone thought when they saw it? Is that what Luke thought?
Her cheeks burned while she contemplated that. She'd believed that she had a legitimate basis to keep wearing the ring but now she doubted her reasoning. Maybe she'd been lying to herself, too. Maybe everybody could see the truth but her.
She made the decision swiftly and twisted the ring off before she could change her mind. She'd had months of practice in how to hide away unpleasant thoughts and she used that skill now while burying the ring in her jewelry box.
Then she marched off to work, pretending that everything, as usual, was completely fine.
Her hand continually felt like it was ready to float away into space. Holding a pen was practically impossible. Her fingers hovered over the computer, not quite able to hit the home keys. She kept it tethered in a pocket if at all possible.
Who knew that a small band of white gold and a diamond was heavy enough to keep her grounded?
In the two weeks since she'd removed the ring she'd been fighting to stay level. Dark thoughts and insecurities once again overwhelmed her. Anger and confusion choked her. She kept to herself because otherwise sharp words flew out of her mouth and zinged whomever was unlucky enough to be beside her.
She avoided the diner. The food stuck in her throat and she was afraid the words that wanted to spill out would not stay silent.
The November weather was ugly and so was she. The days were gray and laced with fog that refused to dissipate. The air was cold but brought no snow and made it easy for one day to blend dully into the next. Her hair hung limp around her shoulders and she didn't care enough to even bind it back into a ponytail. Her eyes were red-rimmed from sleepless nights and lacked the spark that had once driven her.
Whatever confidence and strength she'd been able to stockpile was slowly eaten away. Once again she felt alone and empty.
If only it would snow. It was three days before Thanksgiving but the stupid weather forecaster out of Hartford kept saying the same thing, all about stalled cold fronts and mid-forties and watch out for that fog, folks! Idiot.
She stepped out of bookstore and spied him in all of his flannel-clad glory, apparently on his way to Doose's. She told herself to turn and go the other way. She pictured herself walking over to K.C.'s and ordering a drink. She imagined turning her back and finding a quiet place to call Rory. But her feet didn't listen. They carried her across the street and put her in the one place she knew she shouldn't be.
"There you are!" He was happy to see her. Relieved, even. "I thought maybe you went out of town and didn't tell me." He looked at her closer and frowned. "Are you sick?"
"No, I'm not sick," she said smoothly. "How are you?"
"I'm OK," he allowed, still searching her face in confusion.
"So, are you getting ready for the party?" she asked, bobbing her head with fake enthusiasm.
"Party?" He was even more confused. "Do you mean Thanksgiving?"
"Nah. I mean the party! It's been pretty close to a year since you met April, right? I figured you'd be planning a big party."
Apparently the bitter note in her voice was enough to put him on guard. "Lorelai," he started to say, warningly.
She pretended to gasp. "What? Wasn't I supposed to know? Well, that'd be just like old times, wouldn't it?"
"Don't ―" he started again.
"Here's an idea. Throw the party, but don't tell me about it for two months!"
"Stop."
"Oh, and make sure everyone else in town is there! Make sure you invite Jess. And Rory! Everyone but me!"
"Come on. Don't do this here," he said tightly. He reached for her arm.
She danced out of his grasp. "Why not? It's been six months since my last public humiliation. People expect it. Hey, everyone!" She waved and did something that looked like a jumping jack. "Yoo-hoo! It's that crazy Gilmore woman again!"
People averted their eyes and sidestepped around them. Some crossed the street or dove into doorways.
"Six months, Luke." She forced a laugh. "It occurs to me that it's been a year since April and six months since we ended and I'm still not talking! I'm still scared to tell you what I think! And come on, tell the truth. Wouldn't you like to hear what's in my head?"
He drew a breath and looked around nervously. When he looked back at her it was with new resolve. "Yes," he said simply.
She blinked at his sympathetic tone but soon recovered her irritation.
"Well, for one thing, I hate that you knew for two months and didn't tell me. I hate that you didn't have enough faith in me or love me enough or whatever it was that made you keep her away from me like I was carrying the Black Death or something. I hate that you cared more about what Anna wanted than you did me." She wasn't crying but she felt like she was, her breath coming in big open-mouthed gasps between phrases. "I hate that you made me trust you. I hate that you made me believe you when you said you were all in. What you really meant was that you were all in as long as it suited you."
She took in his stillness, his unperturbed demeanor while he stood there, listening to her. "And I hate that you're just standing here now like this doesn't mean anything!"
"You want to talk, Lorelai," he said, quietly. "I'm just listening."
She felt her jaw quiver as she swallowed. She was tired of being weak and silent. Anger pushed out more words.
"I hate that I stayed quiet and I hate that you didn't care! I hate that, Luke!"
"Go on," he encouraged her when she paused for breath.
His laid-back attitude made her blaze again. She leaned in towards him, her voice low and fierce.
"I hate that you did this to us. I hate that you broke us. I hate ―" She stopped abruptly, once again feeling like she was crying when she wasn't.
"Go on," he said, with a gentle patience she'd rarely witnessed. "Say it. Just get it out."
By the time the words finally left her mouth there was no heat behind them. "I hate you," she said in the barest of whispers.
He looked so sad. "I know," he softly acknowledged, and that was what broke her apart.
Real tears finally streamed down her face, striping her of makeup and whatever dignity she still had left. She turned from him and headed home through sheer force of memory. She felt like the fog was wrapped thickly around her, blurring her sight.
Home. She tripped through the door and dove for the couch. She grabbed the afghan and buried her head under it as she huddled on the cushions.
She didn't want to think. She couldn't think. She couldn't bear to hear the words in her head.
She needed to breathe. Just breathe. She concentrated on listening as her heart rate lessened. She made note when her crying ceased.
And then the phone broke the silence. It rang the required five times. She listened to her own voice play out in the empty room.
"Hello you lucky person! Even though neither of the fabulous Lorelais are here right now, you still are being treated to listening to the melodious voice of one of them. Leave a message and one of us will call you back and then you'll be so fortunate as to hear one of us in person! Do it at the beep!"
Had she been capable of movement at that moment she would have cringed in embarrassment.
No one left a message. She went back to concentrating on her heartbeat again, trying to block out everything else.
Five minutes later the phone rang again. She bit her lip, listening to the ridiculous greeting play again. Blessed silence filled the air for three minutes. Then the phone again. She tried to gear up to leave her sheltering cocoon and go rip the phone out of the jack, but this time he spoke.
"Um, yeah, it's me."
She stopped breathing completely and tugged the crocheted stitches tighter over her face.
"I guess I should've known you wouldn't answer the phone. Especially not if you thought it was me. But I needed to make sure you were OK." He paused and she could picture how the lines between his eyes were crinkling in worry. "Just for my own peace of mind, I'm going to pretend you're there listening to me, OK?"
For good measure she burrowed her head under a pillow, too.
"It seems like we've been going at this from opposite ends," he said, sighing. "That first time you came to talk to me all you could say was that you were sorry and I could barely stand to look at you. I didn't want to see you because I was so mad at you. I was so angry at you, Lorelai, and so hurt, and so full of hate. I didn't want to see you or hear your voice. Now you're mad and I'm the one who's sorry. Jeez, I'm sorry, Lorelai. I'm so sorry."
His voice was so tender with sincerity that it broke her heart all over again.
"There's nothin' wrong with you being mad," he continued on. "You should be mad. I don't know when that stopped for me. Probably when I realized how much I missed you and how good it felt to be around you again. I hope ― I hope the anger stops for you sometime too. When it does ― if it does ― you know where I am, right?"
He was silent and she almost thought he'd hung up, but then he continued. "I just wanted to let you know that I understand where you are right now. If you want to call me and yell at me some more, you do that. You can call my answering machine and fill it up with four-letter words if you want to. You do whatever you need to do to fight through this, OK? I just want you healed and back to being yourself again."
He paused again or maybe he'd said everything he had to say. The answering machine cut off. She stayed curled underneath her protective fibers, blocking out as much of reality as possible. She wasn't ready to think yet. She wasn't ready to hear his words yet.
Drained both emotionally and physically, eventually she fell asleep. When she awoke much later she found that the double crochet pattern from the afghan seemed to be permanently etched into her face. For two days she saw the faint marks on her cheeks and remembered her cowardly flight away from him and despaired of ever being normal again.
Oh, if only it would snow…