Somebody knocked enthusiastically on the Gilmore's front door.
The sudden noise made Luke's hands involuntarily clench, crushing the edges of the newspaper he'd been trying to read. In his head, he said some very bad words. But in real life, in this world where an eleven-year-old girl was lurking somewhere close by, he kept his fuming internal.
He'd insisted on watching Rory tonight. To him it seemed only fair that he'd stay with her while Lorelai went out on the date he'd strong-armed into existence. He'd felt self-righteous when he'd made the offer; penitent, even. It was days later when he realized he would then have to be present when the date began. And it was only now, with the prospective boyfriend standing on the front porch, knocking on the door, that he saw he could have avoided this dreaded moment by just having Rory come to the diner at the start of the evening instead. Or by taking her to a movie. Or by doing any of dozens of other activities with her outside of the house.
Idiot.
He really, really wanted to swear again. Possibly kick something, too.
On the porch, Jeremy knocked for the second time.
Luke threw down the paper and stomped over to the stairs, looking up them desperately. He knew it was useless, though. Lorelai had come home late from work and was quickly trying to get ready. He could still hear water running.
He took a couple of steps over to the hallway and glanced down the length of it. The bathroom door was shut, telling him where Rory was.
"Damn it," Luke growled under his breath. Why did he have to be the adult?
Not seeing any way out of it, he walked stoically over to the door and flung it open without hesitation, sort of like ripping off a Band-Aid all at once.
The stunned look on Jeremy's face almost made his own discomfort go away.
"Come in," he ordered, standing aside and trying not to smirk at Jeremy's visible dismay.
"Luke! I – I didn't expect to see you here."
"Well, I'm babysitting Rory tonight. Or she's taking care of me. With her I'm never quite sure which way it works," Luke explained with a shrug.
Instead of smiling at the lame attempt at humor, Jeremy nodded seriously. Luke sighed. If this guy couldn't even get his jokes, he'd never be able to handle Lorelai's mile-a-minute chatter.
"Come in," he said again, and Jeremy finally followed him into the living room. "Lorelai will be down in a minute. She's still getting ready." He pointed to a chair. "Have a seat."
"Thanks." Jeremy untied the belt of his trench coat and sat down uneasily on the edge of the chair, glancing curiously around the room.
Luke could see he had on a suit and tie underneath the dignified coat. The guy knew how to dress, he had to admit that. He looked nice tonight. Date-nice. So nice that Luke's faded flannel and well-worn jeans suddenly seemed incredibly ratty.
"I'm glad we've got a couple of minutes here," Jeremy said in a low, confidential tone, leaning towards Luke's spot on the couch. "I wanted to make sure that everything was OK between us."
"Between us?" Luke felt his eyes go steely. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"Well, because when you came into the store at Christmas…you sort of made it seem as if you and Lorelai were dating."
Crap. Of course he'd remember that. "No. We're not."
Not only did Jeremy not understand jokes, but he didn't know when to let things go, either. "But you said –"
"I said what I said because – I watch out for her, OK? Like…like a brother would. So of course I'm going to give any guy who's interested in her a hard time."
"And that's all it was?" Jeremy asked, still doubtful.
"That's all."
"We're OK?"
Luke's jaw clenched. "We're OK," he ground out, a moment later.
"Good, good. Because I wouldn't want things to get off on the wrong foot here. Between us."
"Everything's fine." Some malevolent impulse pulled Luke to the edge of the couch cushion. He let his eyes drill into Jeremy's. "Unless, you know, you make her unhappy or anything. Break her heart, for example. Because then I'd have to hunt you down and hurt you."
Jeremy tugged at his necktie and tried to smile. "That's funny."
"Why is that funny?"
"Because of the bet."
"What bet?"
"There's a bet, in town. Quite a sizable one, from what I understand. About whether or not you'd punch me in the face before the date even got started." Jeremy looked at him levelly, unafraid.
Luke's bravado slipped away and he sat back. "She does what she wants. I won't interfere. Unless you do something stupid. Then…all bets are off."
Jeremy got the joke that time. He smiled gamely, as if he was up to the challenge.
Rory walked listlessly into the room. She took a seat beside Luke on the couch, leaning up against his side. He thought she was doing it out of a sense of solidarity with him, both of them showing this interloper that they were already a bonded unit. Gratefully he put his arm around her, but then he realized she was just tired, not trying to prove a point.
"Hi, Rory," Jeremy said in an overly-cheerful tone, in Luke's opinion.
"Hi," Rory responded flatly.
"I saw you walking past the store the other day with skates over your shoulder." Jeremy was obviously trying to make conversation.
"Yeah, Luke got me skates for Christmas." She perked up a little bit. "He's trying to show me how to skate, but it's hard. He says my ankles are weak."
"Well, if you keep at it, I'm sure you'll get stronger. Skating can be a lot of fun."
"That's what Luke keeps telling me."
High heels click-clacked down the steps. "Hi, hi, hi," Lorelai announced breathlessly, rushing into the room. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. Work was a mess today."
"That happens." Jeremy stood up and smiled warmly at her. "It's no problem. Our reservations aren't until 8."
Luke tried to study what Lorelai was wearing without being obvious about it. She had on tan slacks and a mahogany-colored blouse that looked like it could be silk to his decidedly untrained eyes. Her hair was slicked back into a low ponytail and she had on small silver earrings. She looked nice, as always, but didn't look like she'd gone to a lot of extra trouble to fancy herself up for the date.
Then she slipped her arms into a dark reddish-brown leather jacket that fit her like a second skin and suddenly she looked as spectacular as Julia Roberts did after Richard Gere had taken her shopping in that movie Lorelai had recently insisted he watch.
Luke's spirits slipped further down while Jeremy looked like he'd won the dating lottery. "Ready to go?" he asked her, back to his chipper self.
"Um…sure?" Lorelai turned and looked at Luke, frowning slightly. She pulled her ponytail out from under her jacket. "I guess I'll call you from the restaurant?"
"You already gave me the number." Luke tapped against his shirt pocket. "If something happens that I can't handle, I'll call you there."
"Right. Right." Lorelai smiled nervously. "I keep forgetting that this isn't the normal babysitting gig with an unreliable teenager."
Luke got up from the couch and Rory stood up too, following his example. Lorelai came over to tell Rory goodbye and gave her a hug. Luke shadowed Jeremy to the door.
"Just so you're aware," he quietly informed him, "my plan is to sack out on the couch once Rory goes to bed. So I'll be right here when you bring her home."
"Got it," Jeremy said blithely. "Kiss her goodnight in the car."
Luke hoped he couldn't hear him grinding his teeth.
Lorelai joined them and Luke opened the door, seeing them out. He tapped Lorelai's arm as she crossed the threshold, making her look back at him.
"It's OK to have fun tonight," he reminded her gently.
Her eyes flicked over him. "I'll try," she said, sounding forlorn, which made him feel even worse.
Then they were gone and the immediate torment was over. Luke turned to find Rory staring at him.
"Can we play Clue?" she asked.
"Fine by me." He went over to the coffee table and folded up the newspaper and moved the piles of magazines to the floor, clearing a suitable playing surface for them.
Rory got tired of playing Clue pretty quickly. One round of Colonel Mustard and the knife and once with Miss Scarlet and the rope and she was done.
She turned on TV and switched it to Nick at Nite. Luke picked the paper back up.
"Hey, Luke. Can I ask you something?"
"No, I don't want to watch Gilligan's Island."
"It's not that." Rory toyed with the TV remote in her hand. "I'm just sort of confused about something."
He folded down the top of the paper to see her. "What?"
"I guess I really don't understand why Mom's going out with Jeremy."
"You'd have to ask her that," he said in a much sharper tone than what was needed. Then he felt terrible, not only from taking that tone with Rory, but also for shirking the question. Because who knew better why Lorelai was on this date than he did?
Rory kept switching the remote from one hand to the other, keeping her eyes down. "I guess I thought that if Mom was going to date anybody, it'd be you."
His jaw seemed to lock in place. "No. Not me," he managed to mutter after a strained pause.
"You know I'm getting pretty grown up."
Luke nodded.
"And I watch an awful lot of TV."
"Also true, unfortunately."
"So I know what it means when a guy looks at a girl the way you looked at Mom that night of Grandma's party."
"Rory…we talked about that."
"We did." She glanced over at him. "But I didn't believe you."
"Rory…"
"I just don't get why you don't ask her out. Why does she have to date Jeremy?"
Luke stayed silent, not knowing how to explain.
"Is it because of that weird old-girlfriend thing you've got going on? Because if it is, I really don't understand that."
You and me both, Luke wanted to say. "Mostly, yes," is what he did say.
"Is she that much better than Mom? Because I think Mom's pretty great."
Luke closed his eyes and hung his head. "Yeah, your mom is pretty great."
"So why don't you date her? Why do you want that other girl to come back?"
He shook his head and wished for inspiration to come. When a faint idea came to him, he jumped at it. "It's been quite a while since you've seen your dad, right?"
Rory looked at him suspiciously. "Yeah."
"But no matter how long it's been, he's still your dad, right?"
"Right."
"Right." Luke nodded. "And even if somebody else came along, somebody great, you wouldn't want to replace your dad with him, would you?"
"Somebody like you?" she teased, quirking up an eyebrow and doing something with her mouth that made her look just like Lorelai for a moment.
"Even if it was me," he insisted, ignoring the way his heart had contracted. "You and your dad have this connection that can't be broken, no matter who else might come into your life. You'd still love him no matter what, wouldn't you, just because he's your dad?"
"Yeah." She sounded less doubtful.
"So that's pretty much the way it is between me and Rachel. We've had this tie for a really long time. We once made a promise that we were going to be together. And to me, no matter how long it's been since I've seen her, and no matter who else I might meet, we're still connected, just like you are with your dad."
"OK, but…"
"But what?" Luke asked with a sigh, knowing it wasn't possible to shut her down if she still had questions.
She shrugged. "It's just too bad that you and Mom both have to be sad about it."
Luke instantly dove behind the paper to hide from her too-perceptive comment. He'd reached his limit on being able to discuss that particular topic any further.
Rory was restless. She sprawled on the couch, then sat on the floor. She changed the TV channel over and over again. She wandered into the kitchen and came back with nothing.
Luke offered to play another game or find them a movie to watch, but she shook her head. "I think I'll just go read in my room for a while," she said sluggishly.
Once she disappeared from the living room there was nothing to keep Luke's mind from going to Lorelai and her date. He glanced at his watch for probably the twentieth time, wondering where they were and how the evening was going for them. Outside it had started to snow very lightly. He imagined Lorelai dragging Jeremy out to stroll through the flakes floating down and an actual physical pain shot through his chest.
The more he tried to get his mind to shift to something else, the more it stubbornly stuck to whatever might be going on in Hartford. His nearly-encyclopedic knowledge of everything Lorelai worked against him. He could picture her sitting across the table from Jeremy, nailing him with that killer smile and batting those sparkling eyes while she unapologetically mowed through her food. He wondered how many times she'd twirled her hair by now. How many times she'd leaned across the table to touch his arm. He wondered if Jeremy was now completely infatuated with her, if he hadn't been already.
Speaking of Jeremy…How well did they know the guy, anyway? Sure, he'd lived in Stars Hollow all the while he was growing up and Luke had played baseball a season or two with his big brother Kyle, but what sort of a reference was that? He didn't really know him. Neither did Lorelai. He could be dismembering bunnies in his spare time down in the basement underneath the jewelry store for all they knew. There was no guarantee that Jeremy was a decent man – none whatsoever. What had he been thinking, to throw Lorelai so carelessly into his arms?
Luke tried to get a grip on his runaway imagination. He took some deep breaths. If there was any hint of anything unsavory about Jeremy, Patty and Babette and a dozen other Stars Hollow residents would have been standing in line to warn Lorelai. They would have even come to the diner and warned him. No way would they have allowed Lorelai to go out on a date with a bunny-killer.
He went to the window and looked outside at the peaceful street, trying to convince himself that Jeremy was just as nice of a guy as he seemed.
So it was fine. It was all fine. Lorelai and Jeremy would have a wonderful meal, have some drinks, undoubtedly have some laughs. And then Lorelai could see if she wanted to pursue anything further with the well-dressed jeweler.
But…Luke felt his calmness shatter again. What if Jeremy wanted something more than a dining companion? The comment about kissing her in the car surfaced and bugged him even more than it had when Jeremy said it. Deep-down, he knew Jeremy had said it as a joke, to goad him, but it still bugged.
What if they had found a connection between them? What if they were parked somewhere right now? What if they'd decided to ignore the dinner and the drinks and gone right to the end of the evening?
Or even worse…What if Jeremy wanted more than Lorelai was willing to give? What if that polite, well-groomed exterior of his was hiding a penchant for sexual assault? What if he had Lorelai pinned down right now, hurting her –
"Luke?"
"What?" he snapped, his whole body tense and ready to fight.
"You don't really have to stay here with me."
"What?" He whipped around to confront Rory. "Of course I do!"
"You really don't," she said meekly. "I'd be fine, if you want to leave."
He made himself focus on the young girl standing before him. "There's no way I'd leave you here alone. Why would you say that?"
Her eyes darted around the room nervously. "It just sort of seems like maybe you don't want to be here tonight."
Mentally he gave himself a slap to the back of the head, ordering himself to ditch his worries and take care of Rory the way he was supposed to. "You know I love being here, Rory. I have fun being with you."
"Then, did I do something to tick you off? Because you seem sort of mad tonight."
"No, absolutely not! It has nothing to do with you." He took a step closer to her, then folded his arms while he stood there, studying her. "It's just sort of a weird night," he partially explained, banishing any further misgivings about the date in progress. "Is there something I can do to make it better from here on out? You want me to go make you pancakes?"
"Yuck. No," Rory said with a shudder.
It suddenly occurred to Luke that she actually hadn't eaten much the entire night. "Are you feeling OK?" he asked, because now, really looking at her, he could see that she was paler than usual and her eyes were dull. She seemed weary and tired. "Do you have a headache?"
"Kind of." She crankily rubbed at her forehead.
"Do you want me to get you some Tylenol?" He put his arms around her, and she briefly rested her head against him.
"No." She pulled back away, unable to settle anywhere for long. "I think maybe I'll go try and read some more."
"OK." Luke watched her walk away. "Call me if you want anything."
Great. Now he had two things to worry about.
Luke sat down in front of the TV and found a hockey game. He forced himself to follow the puck up and down the ice and tried to care which team scored, even though all he was really doing was sitting with his ears attuned towards Rory's room. At least concentrating on her was diluting The Great Hartford Date Night concerns.
He'd just about convinced himself that she must have fallen asleep reading when the springs on her bed jangled. He heard her pound down the hall and slam shut the bathroom door.
"Rory?" He chased her down the hallway and stood with his hands flat against the closed door.
"Don't come in!" she pleaded hoarsely.
"I won't, but…You've got to let me know if you need me, OK?" He put his forehead against the grain of the door, feeling absolutely helpless.
After what seemed liked hours, she opened the door back up. Her eyes were red and watering. She burrowed her face into his chest. "I hate throwing up!" she confessed, her voice quavering. Her whole body was trembling and Luke rubbed her back soothingly.
"I don't think anybody likes throwing up," he observed gently, continuing to massage her back and shoulders. "Did you rinse out your mouth?"
She nodded, still shaking and whimpering a little bit.
"Oh, Rory." Luke's hand had reached her head, and he could feel the heat radiating out from her scalp. "I think you've got a fever." He detached her from his chest and put an exploratory hand against her forehead. "Yep, I'm pretty sure you're running hot. Do you guys have a thermometer?"
She nodded and pointed at the medicine cabinet.
Luke opened the mirrored door and was momentarily overcome by the amount of stuff shoved on every shelf within the cabinet. He poked around gingerly, scared to dislodge any of the bottles of nail polish or samples of face cream. "Where is it?"
Rory reached in and plucked a clear plastic box from the front of the lower shelf.
"What's this?"
"It's the thermometer," Rory explained, sounding exhausted.
"This?" Luke opened up the box and shook the strange object out into his hand. "This isn't a thermometer! This looks like something I'd stick in a pork loin while it was cooking."
"It's digital," she told him.
"It's…what?"
"Digital." She sighed. "Here." She took the device back from him. "You push this button, see? Then the numbers all go to 9999. Then you –" She put it under her tongue. "OK?" she mumbled, holding her lips closed around the thermometer and looking to see if he got it now.
Luke nodded, even though he was still perplexed about how some electronic gadget was going to register Rory's temperature. How could it work without shaking the mercury down in the tube first? Ignoring his confusion, he took her by the shoulders and gently urged her to sit down on the closed toilet lid. She sat and leaned her head against him again, seemingly too weak to hold it up any longer.
It didn't take long before the plastic thermometer beeped. Rory pulled it out of her mouth and handed it to him.
At first his eyes refused to read the numbers highlighted in the beige handle.
101.9
Each digit burned into his brain.
He laid the thermometer down and then reached for a washcloth and dampened it under the faucet. Tenderly he wiped off her face, while she shivered and groaned and cuddled against him. He tossed it back into the sink, then picked her up in his arms.
When she didn't even protest, he realized just how sick she was.
He carried her to her room and sat her down on the edge of her bed, then rummaged through her dresser until he found a pair of pajamas, the same ones she'd changed into on Christmas Eve. "Do you think you can get these on?" he asked, placing them beside her.
She swallowed hard and nodded, her eyes only half-open.
"I'm going to step outside your door while you get changed, but if you can't do it yourself, you call me, OK?"
She nodded again.
Those few minutes spent hovering outside of her mostly-closed door were some of the longest Luke had ever experienced.
"I'm done," her croaky voice finally announced.
He burst back inside, full of anxious energy, and helped her get under the covers. She closed her eyes and laid her head on the pillow with a pitiful little whimper that almost killed him.
For a few minutes he fussed over her, stroking her forehead and pushing her hair back from her face. Her eyes scrunched up in silent irritation and he backed off, sitting at the foot of the bed, intently watching every breath she took.
He couldn't help but remember Christmas Eve, and the delight he'd taken in watching Rory sleep. Now that experience seemed far away and Luke realized how naïvely he'd taken that simple joy for granted. Rory was sick, and those numbers on the thermometer had scared him almost more than anything else in his life so far.
In spite of his anxiety and constant vigilance, he must have finally dozed off, because when Lorelai loudly entered the house, it jerked him awake.
"Why are all of the lights on? Are you guys having a slumber party without me?" her voice gaily rang out.
"Mommy," Rory almost sobbed.
Luke got his legs under him and stumbled to the doorway, stopping Lorelai before she could enter the room.
"Rory's sick," he quietly announced with his hands on her shoulders, halting her progress.
As long as he lived, Luke knew he'd never forget the way Lorelai's face changed, going from smiling happiness to almost-terror in a split second. He'd never forget the strangled noise that came from her throat. She pushed him aside and flew to the bed, kneeling on the floor next to Rory.
"I'm here, baby." She pressed her lips to Rory's forehead, pushed the backs of her fingers against the girl's hot cheek.
"Mommy," Rory moaned again, keeping her eyes shut.
"Mm, you're hot," Lorelai murmured. She twisted her head around, looking at Luke for confirmation.
He nodded. "A little over 102, the last time I checked." He looked at his watch. "That was…about 20 minutes ago."
"Poor baby," Lorelai whispered, stroking Rory's face.
"Lorelai, could you maybe step out here for a minute?" Luke asked, pointing just past the door.
"Sweetie, Mommy'll be right back, OK?" Lorelai pushed up to her feet, while Rory made another kitten-like whimper.
"When did this start?" she asked in a low voice, as soon as they stepped out of Rory's room.
"About an hour and a half ago. She seemed off all night, but it wasn't until she refused food that I realized something was really wrong. Then she was sick in the bathroom and I could feel she was running a fever."
"Oh, Luke," she sighed. She patted his chest distractedly, looking back in at her little girl. "I'm so sorry you had to handle the upchucking."
"I tried to get her to take some Tylenol, sip some water, but that all came back up about 10 minutes later."
Lorelai grimaced. "Yeah, her tummy basically shuts down as soon as she gets sick."
"And…there's something else. She's been rubbing her head, saying she's got a headache. And when I was helping her into bed, her pajama top rode up and I noticed some little red spots on her stomach."
Lorelai's head whipped around to see Rory and she gave a gasp of alarm.
"Do you think it's measles?" Luke whispered.
"No, she's had her shots." Lorelai went stock-still, then turned to stare at him. She put her hands on his chest and forced him back down the hall, apparently ready to push him clear out of the house.
"What do you think you're – Lorelai, stop it!" he demanded, fighting to keep his position, his stocking feet slipping on the bare wood.
"Luke, have you had chicken pox?"
"Yes."
"You're sure?"
"Yes!"
"You're absolutely, 100%, you-know-it-for-a-fact sure?"
"Yes, I've had chicken pox!"
"Because if you haven't –"
"Lorelai, I've had chicken pox."
"It can be really bad for you strong manly guys. I wouldn't want your virility to take a hit."
"I'm aware, but I swear I've had them."
"You're sure –"
"Lorelai!" he almost yelled, before he remembered Rory laying sick just down the hall. "It was one of my mom's favorite stories, all right? She told me a million times about having me at home under her feet for 10 days straight, and finally on the same day she took me back to kindergarten my little sister broke out in chicken pox, which meant she was then stuck with a cranky toddler in the house for another 10 days. So I'm sure, yes."
Lorelai took a deep breath of relief. "OK then."
Luke gestured towards Rory's door. "That's what you think it is? She hasn't already had them?"
"No. She's getting so old now that I thought maybe she'd had a really mild case somewhere down the line and I'd sort of missed it or something. But yeah, I think they finally caught up to her. Andrew's little Benjy was in town a couple of weeks ago, and I heard he came down with them after he got back home. Rory played with him for a couple of hours one of the afternoons during his visit. I bet she was exposed then."
Slowly, they'd both inched back to her door, and now they both peeked back inside at her.
"What do we do?" Luke asked.
"I'll be right back." Lorelai walked down the hallway to the living room and soon returned with a fat book. She looked at the index and found the correct page. Luke looked over her shoulder and they both read about the symptoms and treatment for chicken pox.
"I guess we just keep her comfortable, huh?" he asked, after reaching the end of the section.
"Yeah. I'll call the doctor tomorrow, but it sounds like there's not much else to do, unless it's a really bad case."
"Poor kid," Luke muttered, looking over at her.
"Can you watch her for a couple more minutes, while I go get changed?"
"Of course," Luke agreed immediately. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."
Lorelai looked at him in fond exasperation. "Luke, you don't have to stay."
He glared at her, his feelings hurt. "Do you really think I'm leaving while she's this sick?"
Slowly, Lorelai's face lit up as a sweet smile curved her mouth upwards. "No. I don't guess you would."
"Damn right," he groused, only slightly mollified.
She hugged him swiftly, the leather of her jacket squeaking as she squeezed. "I'll be right back," she promised. "Why don't you bring in another chair, so we can both sit with her?" she suggested, before hurrying towards the stairs.
"Good idea," he said, nodding in approval. He checked on Rory once more before he went in search of a chair to drag to her room.
"You look like hell," Luke blurted out when Lorelai met him in the living room two days later.
"Wow, thanks, you smooth-talker. No wonder all the ladies flock around you," Lorelai admonished him. She said it lightly, sort of teasingly, but he could tell his off-the-cuff remark had wounded her.
"Hey." He grabbed her arm, could feel the tension there. "I just meant you look dead tired. When's the last time you slept?"
"Um, I don't know. Four nights ago, I guess?"
"Rory's only been sick for two," he pointed out.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do you think I slept any the night before the date?"
"Oh." He shifted nervously back and forth on his feet. "We never really talked about that – how'd it go?"
"Well, I'm never going again," she announced.
"It was that terrible?" he asked, once again filled with worry.
"It was OK, but look what happened!" She flung her hand out towards Rory's room. "I go away for a night and my kid gets felled by the plague!" She shook her head firmly. "I'm never going out on a date again."
"Chicken pox is not the plague," Luke pointed out, just as firmly. "And you will date again."
"Humph," Lorelai snorted. "We'll discuss that another time."
"Yes, we will." But all the same, Luke was happy to let that topic rest. "How's Rory?" he asked, shifting to his main concern.
Lorelai's shoulders slumped. "Oh, about the same, I guess. Maybe a little bit better?" she suggested hopefully.
"Has she eaten anything?"
Lorelai looked stricken and shook her head slowly. "Not really, no."
"Still feverish?"
"Yeah."
"Itchy?"
"Constantly," Lorelai sighed tiredly.
"Well, I brought you everything you wanted." Luke handed her the plastic bag that had been looped over his forearm.
Lorelai poked through the bag. "Thanks. We ran out of calamine lotion last night. I trimmed up her fingernails and I keep trying to hold her hands, but as soon as I let my guard down she starts scratching again."
"The pharmacist suggested trying the Benadryl."
Lorelai made a face. "If she could keep it down, that might be a solution."
"That's still going on too, huh?"
"Oh, yeah."
"Sorry," Luke said sympathetically.
"Yeah, poor kid."
"Poor you, too." He put a hand on her shoulder.
"What's this?" Lorelai pointed to a box and a container nestled within the bag.
"I brought along a couple of things I was hoping might tempt her appetite."
Wearily, Lorelai sighed. "Sure, let's give it a go."
"Look who's here!" Lorelai said brightly, as soon as they stepped into Rory's room.
"Hey, Rory." Luke greeted her gently, but his eyes darted over her thoroughly, wanting to see for himself how she was.
"Hi," she said, still sounding pitiful. She hid half of her face into the soft fur of the big stuffed chicken he'd won for her during the summer at one of the carnival booths set up in the square.
"Colonel Clucker is never going to be the same," Lorelai murmured to him. "She refuses to sleep on a pillow. She only wants him." She made a scooping motion with her hand, indicating the concave space Rory's head had made into the stuffed animal's side.
"As long as it gives her some comfort," he whispered back.
"What are you talking about?" Rory demanded peevishly, glaring over at them with only one open eye.
"Just wondering if you wanted to try eating something," Luke said, taking over. He sat down on the edge of the bed, next to her, and took the container out of the bag. "I brought you some mashed potatoes."
She looked at him balefully. "No," she declined.
"Why mashed potatoes?" Lorelai asked softly.
Luke smiled at Rory, then turned his smile towards Lorelai. "When I was little and sick, my mom would always make me mashed potatoes. Other kids maybe wanted toast or tomato soup, but all I wanted was mashed potatoes. They were nice and warm and never scratched my throat. When I'd get to feeling better, she'd sprinkle some grated cheddar cheese on top."
"Katherine did that?" Rory asked, looking interested for the first time in days. She sat up just a few inches, and Luke hurried to pull up the pillow behind her, to make it more comfortable for her.
"How did you know her name?" Lorelai asked, looking between the two of them curiously.
"I read it that day. That day at the cemetery," Rory explained in a hushed tone.
"Oh. Right," Lorelai said, wincing slightly.
"Do you maybe want to try Katie Danes' cure?" Luke tempted her, opening up the container, letting the aroma swirl under her nose.
For a moment Rory looked intrigued, but then she shook her head. "Not right now."
"OK," Luke said easily. He snapped the lid back on and set it aside. "We'll try it again later, maybe."
"Do you have something else?" Rory wondered, peering over at the sack.
He pulled out a cardboard box. "I saw these in the store, fruit juice pops. I thought maybe they'd sound good to you."
Rory sat up a little further. "What type?"
"Orange and pineapple."
She looked torn, then finally nodded. "Yeah, I'd like one."
Luke ignored Lorelai hopping up and down in excitement and extracted one from the box. He peeled back the wrapper and handed it to Rory.
At first she looked like she was going to gobble it right down, but after a couple of licks she shook her head and gave it back to Luke, then slid down under the covers and buried her face back into Colonel Clucker.
"That's all right," he said kindly. He wanted to hug her or at least pat her arm, but he was scared to try for fear of further irritating the angry red spots visible everywhere her skin was exposed. He stood up instead, picking up the rejected food. "I'll just take this to the kitchen. Maybe you'll feel like it later."
When Luke returned, Lorelai was waiting at the door to Rory's room. "Hey, now that we've got the soothing stuff to put in the bath, would you help me get her upstairs?"
"Of course."
"Cool. I was worried about walking her up the stairs on my own. Let me go up first and get it ready, and then bring her up when I call you, OK?" Lorelai went over to Rory's dresser, opened a drawer and took out a nightgown. "Maybe you could just wrap her up in the blanket from her bed? I don't want her getting chilled."
"Yeah, no problem."
Lorelai shut the drawer and then bent over Rory's bed. "Sweetie? Luke's going to help you upstairs to the bathtub in a couple of minutes, OK?"
"Don't wanna," Rory grumbled tragically, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter.
"I know," Lorelai commiserated. "But I really think it'll make you feel better." She turned quickly, gave Luke a fast nod, and left the room before Rory could whine more about it.
Luke stayed quiet, thinking Rory wanted to be left alone. He sat down in the chair he'd relocated to her room Saturday night.
To his surprise, she partially opened one eye and looked over at him. "What day is it?"
"Tuesday."
"In the morning?"
"No, afternoon. Almost 3."
"So I've missed two whole days of school already?" she asked in outrage.
"Afraid so."
"Well that sucks," she huffed.
Luke wondered if he should warn her about how many more days she was probably going to miss before the red spots all went away, but he wisely held his tongue.
"This is all so stupid," she continued to complain.
"What is?"
"Being sick. Being sick with a little kid's disease! I bet no one else in my school has chicken pox!"
"The doctor told your mom maybe that's why it's hitting you so hard, because you're older. For some reason things that little kids can shake right off hit the rest of us pretty hard."
"And it's a stupid name, too. Chicken pox," she sneered.
"Hey now." Luke leaned over, grabbed Colonel Clucker's legs and gave him a little tug underneath Rory's head. "Don't offend your pillow. He won't let you sleep on him anymore if you disrespect his poultry roots."
Rory smiled the littlest bit.
"Ready!" Lorelai shouted from upstairs.
Luke stood up. "Let's figure out how we're doing this." As gently as he could, he pulled the top blanket loose from the bed. "If I help you, can you sit up?"
"Of course I can sit up," she said testily, but she soon found out that wasn't true. Her weakened body had gotten used to lying down and didn't like having to right itself.
"Here." Luke put an arm around her and carefully eased her to the edge of the bed. Immediately he wrapped the blanket around her, not wanting her to get cold. "And here we go," he murmured, scooping her up and making sure he wasn't going to trip over the long tails of the blanket. She hid her face against his chest, avoiding the sunlight pouring into the living room. He tried not to judge whether or not she was wasting away.
Lorelai was at the top of the stairs, watching their progress. She danced away down the hall when they got close, opening the door for Luke to carry Rory inside the little room that was beginning to feel like a sauna.
"Just stand her here for a second," she instructed him. Quickly she separated the blanket from Rory and handed it back to him. "Now, Rory, sit right here on the edge of the tub while I get you peeled. Just lean against me."
"Do you want me to -?" Luke stuffed the blanket under one arm and motioned towards the tub.
"No, let's protect her modesty. If she can just swing her legs over the side after I get her jammies off, I think I'll be fine with the rest." She gave him a strained smile. "But don't go too far away yet, OK?"
"I'll be right outside the door," he promised.
He could hear Lorelai murmuring something soothing to Rory. He leaned against the wall, looking up at the pull-down stairs to the attic, remembering the night spent decorating the tree.
"Whoa!" Lorelai suddenly screeched.
"All right?" He was already reaching for the door.
"Yes – fine! We're fine!" He could hear water sloshing slightly. "She's just a little woozy, but it's done. I've got her now."
He could hear her murmuring again and could catch a little bit of what she was saying. "Feels good, doesn't it? It sure does…Nice hot bath, gonna make you feel so much better…Let me get your hair clipped up here, don't want it getting wet…" Feeling relaxed himself, just from the tone of her voice, he sat down on the top step, waiting to be called into service again.
In a few minutes Lorelai stepped out, keeping the door a little bit ajar so she could monitor Rory. She had a bundle of folded sheets in her arms.
"Everything OK?"
"Perfect. I can tell it's relaxing her already."
"Good." They shared a smile.
"So I thought I'd check out your mad maid skills."
"I have mad maid skills?"
"Maybe." She held out the sheets to him. "I'm going to time you, see how long it takes you to strip Rory's bed and make it again with military corners. Then I'm going to bounce a quarter off it."
He grinned. "Somehow that's not how I imagine you playing with quarters."
"Ha-ha." She held the sheets out again. "Seriously though, would you mind? I just think it would feel good to her, to be able to climb back into a nice fresh bed after her bath."
"Yeah, I can do that." He stood up and took the linens. "Do you want me to start a load of laundry?"
"Nah, laundry can wait." She stretched and yawned, then quickly glanced in through the opened door to check on Rory.
Just as quickly, Luke averted his eyes.
But not quickly enough. Lorelai caught him.
"What?" she wondered, frowning.
"Just, uh…I think when I heard the water slosh, you probably…" While looking the other way, he waved vaguely towards her long-sleeved pink t-shirt, now thoroughly dampened and molded to her chest.
"Oh." She pulled the wet material away from her and chuckled. "Probably not what you think about when you hear 'wet t-shirt night' either, huh?" She flapped the hem a little bit, as if that was going to be enough to dry it out. "Oh well. I have about a thousand layers of crud on me, so maybe this impromptu wash is actually a good thing." She chuckled again, then shivered.
"You're cold," he said unnecessarily, because it was rather obvious that she was chilled. Then he deliberately looked away again.
"I won't be, as soon as I go back into our new steamroom."
"Go then," he urged. He started down the stairs. "Yell when you're ready for her to go back to her room."
Luke rushed through the bed making, then straightened up the sick room a bit, picking up cups and magazines, trying to make the room feel more ordered and restful for Rory's return. When he was ready to go back upstairs he took the blanket with him, realizing he'd need something to wrap around the sick little girl again.
While going up, he spied a glimpse of them inside the bathroom. Rory was lying against the back of the tub with her eyes closed, a folded towel under her head to provide a soft resting place. Lorelai was sitting on the floor, her back braced against the tub, reading something to Rory.
He sat back down on the top step, content to wait and listen to Lorelai's murmuring voice. He rested his head against the newel post and almost dozed off. Even though he'd been getting more sleep than Lorelai, it was still much less than he needed.
Lorelai pulled open the bathroom door, rousing him.
"We're -!" she started to shout, before she saw him. "Oh, you're already up here."
"Yep, thought I'd just wait." He got to his feet.
Rory was sitting on the edge of the tub, looking pink and drowsy. He wrapped the blanket back around her, with Lorelai's hovering help. He gathered her back up and carefully, one-step-at-a-time slowly, got her downstairs and into her bed. Then together, he and Lorelai tucked the blanket back on top of her.
Rory sighed with contentment, her head settling into the fresh case covering her pillow. Colonel Clucker seemed happy at being relegated to her side, outside of the sheets and blankets.
"I'll be right out," Lorelai whispered to Luke, fussing a bit more over the blankets.
"Anything you need for her?" he asked, pausing at the door.
"Nope, I think it's all good," she crooned, adding on a hopeful smile.
Soon Lorelai stepped out into the living room, blinking in the sudden daylight. "She's asleep," she said, sounding as if she didn't really believe what she'd just said.
"Good."
"No, I mean, she's asleep. Like, really asleep. Not fitful, not uncomfortable. Really, truly, deeply asleep."
"That's good news, then."
"Yeah." Lorelai surveyed the room, looking dazed. "I'm not sure what to do with myself now," she mumbled, smiling in disbelief.
"Well, first…" Luke walked over to her, quickly unbuttoning his shirt as he went. "Here. You're still shivering." He draped the gray and green flannel around her.
To his surprise, her response to his generosity was an open-handed hit to his chest.
"Ow! Lorelai, what the hell?" He rubbed at the spot where her blow had landed.
"Did you even think have to think about what to put on this morning?" she demanded.
"Are you delirious or something? What in the world are you babbling about?"
"You. This morning. Getting dressed. What was your thought process? Something like, 'Hmm, I need a t-shirt. It's cold; it'd better be a thermal one. Here's a flannel shirt. Score! They're both clean!'" She glared at him. "Seriously, do you ever have to do more than that?"
He shook his head, trying not to grin. "Yeah, that's pretty much the extent of it."
She shook her head, too. "That is so not fair. You get up and throw on the first thing you see and look like that." She waved her arm up and down at him, indicating the ribbed gray shirt snugly covering his arms and torso. "Meanwhile, if I try to do that, I look like this." Grumpily she indicated her damp, stained shirt and baggy sweatpants. "So not fair," she grumbled again.
"Well, to be honest, I do have the advantage of a couple hours of sleep and a daily shower."
"Plus, since you're a guy, you don't have to worry about putting on makeup. Another unfair advantage. And if you don't feel like shaving, you can roll with the ruggedly handsome scruff thing. Oh, and a bad hair day? Just throw on a baseball cap."
"You're worried about your hair? Well, in that case…" Luke leaned behind her, catching his fingers in the elastic band holding her hair in a ponytail. He pulled it out, then fluffed up her hair around her shoulders a little bit. "There. Now you look perfect."
"Right," she tried to sneer, but yawned instead. She put her arms through the sleeves of his shirt and overlapped it across her chest, trying to get warm.
"Do you want to go upstairs and get cleaned up? Or get some sleep, too? I'll stay here and watch over Rory, if you want," Luke offered, while thinking that his shirt had never looked better than it did right now, hanging off of Lorelai's shoulders and covering most of her hands.
"Sleep," Lorelai mumbled, closing her eyes and swaying slightly.
"Go on up to bed," he urged.
"No, I don't want to be that far away from Rory." She looked at him apologetically. "I know you'll be right here, but –"
"It's fine, I get it," he assured her. "Want to sack out on the couch, then?"
"That'll work." Gratefully she sank down on the sofa, pulling up her legs. She grabbed one of the couch pillows to put under her head.
Luke covered her with the afghan. "Don't worry, I'll wake you up if she needs you."
But before he could walk away, Lorelai snatched his hand, tethering him to the spot. "So I hear that you're like a brother to me now."
Luke groaned. "Geez, can that guy not keep anything to himself?"
Her eyes no longer looked extra-sleepy. "Is it true? Is that how you feel?"
He struggled on how to answer. "Well, I'd like to think that I'm the one person you can count on, that I'd do whatever I could to protect you and keep you safe."
She seemed to be studying him, taking his measure. "Is that how it was with your own sister?"
"Liz?" Luke snorted. "No, although I would have liked to make Liz's life easier, that wasn't her way. She enjoyed being a rebel too much. She always wanted me to be in the dark about what was really going on with her. That way I couldn't stop her from having what she considered to be fun."
Again, those deep blue eyes raked him over. "But that's the vibe we're going for now, a brother/sister thing?"
"I don't think…" Luke licked his lips and looked anywhere but at her. "I doubt that we could quite pull that off."
"Good to hear. Because unless we're aiming for a Flowers in the Attic sort of relationship, I don't think we could, either."
"Do I even want to know what that means?"
"Probably not. But don't feel bad. Jeremy didn't get it, either."
"Yes, that's my goal in life, to be just as clueless as the jewelry guy."
"You're well on the way to that goal, then." Not able to hold her eyes open any longer, they slid closed.
Luke knew he should leave her alone, let her get the sleep she needed so desperately, but something had been eating at him. "Hey, Lorelai? All of these years, with you and Rory…Before, when she's gotten sick, it's just been you taking care of her?"
"Sure." She shrugged sleepily underneath the afghan. "That's part of the Mom Code. Moms take care of sick kids."
"But how did you do it?" He found room to sit on the edge of the couch while he quietly questioned her. "How did you manage?"
She struggled to open her eyes and look at him. "I was luckier than most. Mia was generous in giving me time off to take care of her, and she'd come down to our house and relieve me, too, if she could. And of course, somebody would knock on the door with food from the Inn a couple of times a day. So I had help."
"But still, the stress, the worry…the lack of sleep…" He shook his head at her, still bothered about the things in her past that he couldn't fix. "I just don't know how you did it, all on your own."
"You do what you have to, Luke. Every parent does." She uncovered a hand and put it on his. "Thanks for being here with me this time, though. You have no idea how much it's helped."
He nodded and started to get up, wanting her to rest. But once again she pulled him back.
"Hang on a sec, OK? There's just one thing I still want to know." She continued to grasp his hand, looking nervously at her hold on him instead of at his face.
"Yeah, what?"
"If it wasn't for Rachel…" She focused on him then, bravely looking him right in the eye. "Would we be together right now, if it wasn't for her?"
Normally that was the sort of question that made Luke sweat, the sort of thing he'd want time to ponder, to consider all sides before giving an answer.
But not this time.
"Yes," he replied, instantly and honestly. He held her gaze, wanting her to see he meant it with his whole heart.
Lorelai breathed in deeply, let it out slowly, then smiled gently at him. "OK then. Believe it or not, that actually makes me feel a lot better."
"I'm glad. Sleep now." He tucked the afghan over her and moved to the recliner to sit vigil for as long as she needed him.
A noise…
…was that the alarm? Was it morning?
Groggily, Luke straightened up in the chair. It took him a few moments to recall where he was and what was going on.
Chicken pox, Rory, Lorelai asleep on the couch…
He rubbed his face. Obviously, he'd fallen asleep, too. Lorelai wasn't the only one losing sleep over Rory.
Another noise. A thunk from the kitchen this time. Had something fallen? He clumsily got up to go investigate.
"What?" Instantly, Lorelai sat straight up on the couch. "What's wrong?" She swung her legs to the floor, immediately prepared to go to Rory if needed, even though she still appeared half-asleep.
"Everything's fine," he tried to reassure her. "Go back to sleep."
"No, I'm awake," she protested, although she laid her head on the back of the couch and her eyes closed again.
Luke reached the doorway to the kitchen and stopped in shock. Rory sat at the kitchen table, her bare, spotted feet curled over the rung of the chair. Popsicle sticks and wrappers littered the table top and she was enthusiastically digging spoonfuls of mashed potatoes from the container.
"Rory?" Luke couldn't believe what he was seeing.
She turned to look at him, a smile on her pox-covered face. "Hey Luke, are there any more of these?"
Was he dreaming? "I could…I can go make more," he offered, because real or dreaming, he could always make more mashed potatoes.
"That'd be great!" she said, licking the spoon.
Lorelai came up behind him. "Hey, kid! Look at you!" She squeezed past him in the doorway, the afghan trailing behind her. She sat on the chair next to Rory, leaning over to give her a hug.
"No fever!" she announced excitedly to Luke. Grinning in relief, she placed the afghan around Rory's shoulders. "How are you feeling?"
"Still scratchy," Rory explained, shoveling in another bite of mashed potatoes. "But I figure if I'm eating, I can't scratch. And I'm starving," she added, giving Luke a wheedling look.
He drew in a sharp breath. "I'm off to get food then." He circled back to the living room, trying to remember where he'd left his coat and shoes and hat.
"Do you want your shirt back?" Lorelai called to him.
"Nah, keep it. It looks good on you!" he shouted while struggling to put on his shoes. "That way you'll have something to grab the next time you need to get dressed in a hurry."
"Well, sure, I make everything look good!" she retorted. Then there was a little pause. "You're bringing me something to eat, too, right?" she asked, sounding a little meeker.
Luke shook his head as he started for the door. "Do you really think I'd bring one of my girls something and not the other?"
"No!" they both shouted.
"Be back as soon as I can!" he promised, happily closing the door behind him.