Author's Notes: We've reached the end of another story here. It's made me so happy that you've embraced this tale just the way I did when it I first imagined it. I'm really glad I finally let it out of my computer and let it roam free. A big thanks goes to Jarnac50, who graciously turned a blind eye to the real reason for her 'prize' and offered up some wonderfully creative names for two new characters you'll be meeting in this chapter.

See you at the next story!

Epilogue: The Real Thirteen Years

Bright October sunlight splashed through the energy-efficient windows of the workshop. Luke crossed the room, squinting momentarily against the glare, and pushed one window up to allow the crisp fall air into the space. He no longer needed the extra ventilation to help him breathe through the sawdust, thanks to the recent addition of a dust-collection system, but he knew the fresh air would help to keep him focused on this afternoon's task.

Before firing up the planer and picking up the old board he was planning on sending through it, Luke reached around his neck and found the earplugs hanging there. Lorelai had recently started insisting he wear them out in the shop, and he had to admit she was probably right. Although he might not actually tell her that, he thought to himself, grinning smugly.

His hearing protectively muffled, he put on his safety glasses before flipping the switch to start up the planer. He picked up the weathered board and started to guide it to the opening on the machine.

Right then a ghostly hand tapped his shoulder and Luke felt like he jumped at least a foot in the air.

"Geez, April!" he yelled, loud enough to be heard over the earplugs and the noise of the planer.

He dropped the board and turned off the machine, yanking the earplugs out as he turned to face his grinning daughter. "How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me like that?"

April's eyes glinted with happy mischief. "Sorry, Dad," she tried to say meekly. "I just wanted to say bye before I left."

Luke sighed, his displeasure at her antics evaporating just as usual. He could never stay irritated at April. Every time he looked at her something proud and fierce shot through his heart, and his gratitude at being the father of this fine young woman simply cancelled out whatever tricks she might have played.

April came close to looking him in the eye. She'd suddenly shot up the year she turned 15, ending up an inch taller than Lorelai. The two of them often went shopping together, commiserating over finding long-enough pants and narrow-enough shoes.

"Let me check the car before you take off," Luke suggested.

"There's no need," April insisted, shaking her head. She'd recently cut her curly hair very short, and even Luke had to admit that the result had been spectacular. Her dark hair now dipped and swirled around her forehead and ears, making her look grown-up and showing off her dark eyes to perfection. "You checked everything when I was here last week, and the most driving I've done is the 30 miles between Stars Hollow and home. Trust me, the car's fine."

"You're probably right," Luke had to grudgingly admit.

"And if not, you can check it Wednesday night."

"What do you mean?" Luke gave her a clueless look. "We're seeing you Wednesday night?"

April's mouth dropped open. "Dad!" she complained, punching his arm. "Wednesday night! Remember? You're coming over to meet Brad!"

Luke frowned heartily, really committing to looking stumped. "That's this Wednesday night?"

"Yes, that's this ―" April suddenly stopped herself. "You're teasing me."

"Yep." Luke was now the one grinning.

April muttered something under her breath, looking down at the wooden floor. Then she looked at her dad pleadingly. "Well, stop it, will you? I'm nervous enough about this."

"Why? Is he that awful?"

"No, he's great. He's smart, and funny, and ―"

"Winningly naïve?"

April squeezed her eyes shut and balled up her fists, obviously counting to ten before speaking. "I swear," she finally ground out, "I'm going to kill Rory for digging up that clipping and showing it to all of you."

"Well, then you shouldn't date guys your sister went to school with. Especially not when said sister can search through newspaper databases faster than Lorelai can suck down a pot of coffee. Or maybe you shouldn't date guys that once sang about magic beans on Broadway." Luke stopped his suggestions and looked self-righteous. "Maybe you shouldn't date at all, how about that?"

"Dad," April sighed. "I'm 26. I think it's about time you got over your aversion to my dating."

"Yeah, yeah." Luke added his own sigh to hers. "It's this Wednesday?"

April nodded vigorously, gracefully folding her hands in front of her. It was a gesture she made often, and every time she did it Luke was reminded of his mother. The memory was always accompanied with a ping of regret, knowing how much she would have loved this granddaughter.

"Lorelai says you'll be there," April told him then, playing her trump card.

"Well, if that's what Lorelai says, I'm sure we will be," Luke said softly. He opened his arms and April stepped into them for a hug.

"Eww, sawdust!" she protested, trying to step back away.

"Not yet," Luke told her, not letting go. "You interrupted me before the sawdust part."

"OK then." April hugged him back and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "You will like Brad," she predicted.

"You didn't at first," Luke pointed out, releasing her from his grasp.

April smiled secretively, pink blushing over her cheeks. "I do now."

April taught honors biology at a Connecticut middle school. Brad Langford was the principal, and in keeping with his strict Chilton upbringing, he believed in following all of the rules all of the time. At the start of each school year April fell in love with her clever students and she passionately believed in doing what was the very best for them ― rules or no rules. During the first two years of her employment she and Brad butted heads in continual bureaucratic frustration. Last year they had reached some sort of mutually reluctant friendship and understanding, and this year, unexpected romance had bloomed.

"We'll be there," Luke promised. "And I won't mention the magic beans."

"Thank you," April said with feeling. She started to head for the door. "Mom says she's counting on whatever you and Lorelai can report about him until she gets here at Thanksgiving to check him out for herself."

"Yeah, well, I'll let Lorelai handle that," Luke muttered. "Drive safe. Call when you get there," he added automatically.

"Dad," April said with mild annoyance. "26, remember?"

Luke waved an arm at her and turned back to his woodworking demands.

The earplugs went back in. The planer roared to life again. The sunlight hit the board at a different angle, exposing a nail hole Luke wasn't sure he'd seen before. He took the board over to a workbench, found a pair of needlenose pliers and started to explore the hole. Sending a board with a nail in it through the planer would be a very bad thing indeed.

The pliers hit metal and Luke patiently began to work the nail out. He just about had it exposed when another unseen hand knocked against his back. For the second time Luke nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Rick!" he growled out, turning to see his son standing behind him. He stomped over and turned off the piece of machinery. "Did your sister tell you to come in here and do that?"

Rick backed away, holding up his hands in surrender. "Sorry, Dad, I just wanted to ask if I can go play ball with Davey and the guys."

"What's your mom say?"

"I can't find Mom, that's why I'm asking you."

Luke sighed deeply. He hated negotiating these punishment things. Lorelai was so much better at it. And the kids never seemed to hold it against her, either.

"Did you finish washing the car?"

Rick nodded earnestly. "I even vacuumed out the backseat. I found a dime from the year I was born. I think I unearthed Cheerios from when Sam was a baby. Oh wait ― that may mean just last week in Sam's case."

Luke groaned inwardly. There was no doubt where Rick's mouth came from. Unfortunately those quick, meant-to-be-funny words often got him into trouble.

"Rick," Luke said warningly. He turned on the 'dad glare.'

"Sorry," Rick said immediately. He looked down and shuffled his shoes against the floor.

"Did you wash up Paul Anka too?" Luke asked, deciding to let the jab at Sam go.

"Yep." Rick nodded. "Man, he smelled really bad. What'd he roll in, anyway?"

"Beats me. You know how that weirdo dog always finds the worst stuff to investigate."

"Yeah." Rick continued to nervously shuffle his feet, obviously having something more on his mind. "Hey, Dad? He's like really old, huh?"

"Paul Anka?" Luke added up the years in his head. "Yeah, he's getting up there, I guess."

Rick jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looked off to the side, swallowing hard. "He was like all shaking and stuff while I was washing him. I got towels and dried him off, but he still acted like he was all scared. When I got done he just wanted to keep leaning up against me."

Luke's gaze met the troubled blue eyes of his son. He knew this was one of those times when honesty was needed, even if it felt brutal.

"One day ― and truthfully, it's probably going to be one day soon ― Paul Anka won't be with us anymore. And when that day comes, you're going to be glad that you took the extra time with him today."

Rick blinked hard, and Luke felt for this boy of his that already thought he was too big for tears.

"We'll be sad. All of us will be sad, and we'll miss him, but he's had a really good life. Your mom rescued him and gave him a home, and I saved him once after he ate chocolate, so he's already beaten the odds twice. But you know what? Even after he's gone he'll still be a part of our family. Years and years from now, I bet you'll be telling Paul Anka stories to your kids."

Rick's eyes looked watery, but he had to laugh. "Yeah," he said, "I probably will. Especially the one about how he took the duck Sookie cooked all fancy on Grandma's birthday and buried it in the back yard."

Luke chuckled too. "Yeah, sometimes he's a good dog." Something Rick had said earlier came back to him. "Hey, what towels did you use to dry him off with?"

"The purple ones in the downstairs bathroom," Rick said innocently.

"The ones your grandmother gave us?" Luke asked sternly.

"Yep," Rick replied confidently.

Luke grinned. "Good boy." They all hated those towels.

"So can I go?"

Luke yanked on the bill of his ancient, faded blue baseball cap, trying to figure out the intricacies of childhood justice. "You washed the car. You washed Paul Anka. And?" he asked leadingly.

"And…" Rick shrugged. "That's all I was supposed to do."

"…And from this punishment you learned…"

"Oh!" Rick scowled. "Not to make fun of people's names," he said tiredly.

"It's not Collie's fault," Luke pointed out. "Jackson named her. When you tease her about it, you hurt both her and Jackson."

"I know, but Davey does it all the time!" Rick protested.

"What her brother does is for Jackson and Sookie to regulate. What you do, Mom and I get to decide. And making a little girl cry is not up for debate."

For the first time Rick looked remorseful. "Didn't mean to make her cry," he mumbled.

"I know you didn't. But you need to remember that your words can hurt. Just the way you can throw a baseball and hurt somebody, you can throw around your words hard enough to hurt, too. Don't ever forget that."

Rick nodded, looking more abashed than Luke had seen him look for quite some time.

"And the next time we're all together, you're spending a half hour playing with her."

"Dad! Come on!"

Luke held up his hands. "That's the deal. Take it or deal with further consequences."

"Fine," Rick mumbled, after a few moments of thought. "So does that mean I can go play a game with Davey and the guys?"

Deep inside, Luke groaned again. One more thing to decide.

His eldest son, Patrick Richard, was 11-1/2 years old. In a more perfect world he would have been closer to ten. However, an early 'homework' assignment from their counselor, Lynnie, had accidentally ignited a no-holds-barred battle between himself and Lorelai. Angry accusations flew and the ceiling reverberated from their shouts. Nothing was held back. Hurts from years earlier were brought out and used as weapons. Eventually there was nothing left to say and all they could do was stand and look at each other, empty and exhausted. Tears were shed ― not all of them Lorelai's. Forgiveness was genuinely offered and accepted on both sides. Hearts were soothed and began to really heal. Then practically in the next moment, those hearts began to smolder, and then they burst into an all-barriers-down conflagration. Rick was born nine months later.

"Those guys are all a lot older than you," Luke began, feeling his way.

"Yeah, I know." Rick shrugged. "But I like playin' with 'em. It's more fun than playin' with the Little League guys."

A growth spurt during the past six months had lengthened Rick's legs, making him even better at running bases. The muscles in his arm had gained mass, making his pitches stronger. His brain had matured and focused some, enabling his eyes to analyze exactly where the ball needed to be thrown. It wasn't long before Rick Danes' ability with a baseball was an accepted fact in Stars Hollow, so much so that even the high school boys were asking him to join them in pick-up games at the park.

Luke looked at his son now and saw not exactly a carbon copy of himself at that age, but close enough that it sent a slight chill down his spine. He wondered if that was part of what Lorelai felt when she looked at Rory.

He gave up trying to analyze it all. "Be careful," he told Rick, giving him permission to go with those words. "Remember you're still nothin' but a little squirt to those guys. And be home in time for dinner."

Rick's face lit up and he no longer resembled his father quite so much. With the bright smile and shining eyes, there was no doubt that he was Lorelai's son. "Thanks, Dad!" he called out, already sprinting out of the door before Luke could possibly change his mind.

Once more Luke was alone in the workshop that years ago had served as a rehearsal studio for Hep Alien, and in some earlier era had actually been used as a garage. Lorelai had encouraged him to take over the space and make it his own after they'd reconciled and he'd started moving in his stuff. His initial plan had been to merely try and erase the stomach-churning pink-and-turquoise paint on the walls, but he soon realized that adding on a few more feet to the back of the structure would give him a pretty spacious workshop. All he needed to do was to insulate the walls, put on new doors, install two new windows…OK, so it did evolve into a more intensive makeover than what he'd originally envisioned, but the end result was well worth it.

After that, Lorelai kept giving him gift cards to the big-box home improvement stores for every birthday and holiday, telling him to buy whatever big, fancy woodworking accessory that caught his eye. Soon people were stopping him in the diner, asking if he could fix this for them or make that. Word spread first through Stars Hollow and then expanded. Within five years he found that he was spending more time in the shop and less and less in the diner.

April and Rory put their heads together ― without his knowledge or permission, of course ― and created a website for him. Then the orders really poured in.

The diner was now being run by Lane and Zach. Luke had leased it out to them years ago. He still worked there occasionally, if they needed help. And every summer he took over for a couple of weeks, so they could take their boys and go on a well-earned family vacation. Or if they had a gig to play.

But it never failed to throw him for a loop to walk into 'Luke's' and sporadically encounter Mrs. Kim waiting tables. That lady was still scary.

Thinking that the third time was the charm, Luke plugged up his ears and turned on the planer again. He double-checked the gauge on the machine. He didn't want to take all of the signs of wear off the board because people loved that weathered-looking crap. His goal was to level it out some and make it easier to work with.

Luke passed the board through once and then studied it, pleased with the result. He turned off the machine and stepped backwards.

And instantly tripped over something huddled and alive behind him. Luke grabbed at the table saw, catching himself before he could land on the floor. The board dropped from his grasp, missing Son #2's head by only a few inches.

"Sam!" he bellowed.

"What?" Sam looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a leather-bound journal in his lap, looking perplexed.

"What?" Luke chided him, irritated. "I could have taken your head off, that's what." It suddenly occurred to him that he could have indeed hurt the boy, and he squatted down beside him, overcome with concern. "Are you OK?" he asked gruffly, feeling over the top of the curly brown head with his hand.

"Sure, I'm fine," Sam replied, still without an ounce of alarm.

"Sam," Luke tried to say, as patiently as possible, "you know you have to be careful in here. There are a lot of things in the shop that can hurt you. When I'm working, you need to make sure I know where you are."

Sam's forehead scrunched up. "But you told me not to sneak up on you and tap you on the shoulder when you're working. I thought I'd just sit here and wait until you got done."

Well, what do you know, Luke thought sardonically. One member of the family who actually listens to me.

"I appreciate that. But from now on, try to step in front of me so I see you and know you're here, OK?"

"OK," Sam said agreeably.

"Did you want something?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded heartily and pulled a folded paper out from the front of the journal. He spread it open eagerly. "I wanted to show you this."

Sam was proof that God appreciated irony. They had named their first son Patrick, because they just liked the name, and chose Richard as his middle name, obviously as a tribute to his Grandfather Gilmore. (Even though Lorelai teased over and over that he had been named for Richard Castle, her favorite author, instead.) And Patrick, despite being named for either a literary giant or a business genius, was showing all signs of being a natural athlete and just a so-so scholar. On the other hand, Sam's full name was Theodore Samuel Danes, named after the legendary Red Sox player Ted Williams. At first Luke had resisted Lorelai's idea, but the more he thought about it, the more perfect it seemed. By naming his son after Ted Williams, his father's favorite player, he felt that he was honoring his dad twice. However, although Sam was named after a sports icon, his athletic ability was so far zilch. Sam's T-ball days had been spent drawing space aliens in the dirt instead of watching for the ball rolling past him.

Truthfully, Sam was something of a 9-year-old mystery to Luke. He loved the boy, of course, but he had no clue what went on in his mind. Sam was thoughtful and dreamy, and was often found motionless in the middle of the floor, lost completely to the imaginings taking place in his brain. Lorelai told him not to worry because Sam reminded her so much of Rory at that age. She got him the journal he constantly carried around, allowing him to scribble down his ideas and draw diagrams of star bases and Lego creations as the ideas came to him. Lulu Gleeson was his teacher this year and she assured them that his test scores were off the charts. She was already suggesting that they look into more creative schools for him, but Lorelai resisted that idea and Luke agreed wholeheartedly. Kids should be allowed to be kids, he felt.

While it was true that Sam was beloved by the whole town, just as his sister Rory had been, there was one more person from outside of Stars Hollow who loved him unconditionally. That was Anna. Practically since his birth they'd heard from her how much he took after April. Over and over she teasingly offered to take him home with her, should they ever tire of him.

"Over my dead body," Luke always muttered under his breath, waving good-bye while she pulled away from the house.

Now Luke stifled a sigh as Sam unfurled his paper. He was sure it would be a drawing of a constellation he'd never heard of, or pi written out to a hundred places. "What've you got here, buddy?" he tried to ask enthusiastically.

Sam got up on his knees and spread the drawing over the floor in front of them. "It's a desk," he said with the zeal he usually reserved for explaining the plot of his favorite anime show.

"A desk?" Luke looked at the drawing with more interest. "Tell me about it," he said, his eyes rapidly taking in the details.

"I thought it'd be great for any kid like me," Sam began, with complete assurance. "See? I know you can buy these things, these slider things, that make the board slide out for a keyboard? Well, I thought you could use it to build Lego stuff on instead of putting a keyboard on it. Maybe you could use Velcro to hold down the base plates on it, to build on. Then you'd have these little like cubby things at the top, so you could display what you made. And the drawers would be all special-built, to hold the different Lego pieces, so they wouldn't get all messed up. And maybe some of the drawers could be extra-deep, so you could put away stuff that was only half-finished, or something."

"Sam, this is a pretty good design," Luke told him. "Are you really interested in building this?"

"Do you mean it could be real?" Sam looked startled.

"Sure. We'd need to figure out some measurements, but yeah. We could build this for you."

"Wow." Sam looked again at his drawing. "So did I like invent something?"

"As far as I'm concerned, you did." Luke got up from the floor, not liking the effort it took to do so. "Can I keep your drawing? Let me do some calculations and write down the stuff we'd need to make it. You want to go with me to the lumber yard and pick out the wood for it?"

"That'd be cool," Sam confirmed with a nod. "Can we go today?"

"Probably not today. I've got some orders I need to complete first. But soon, OK?"

"OK." Sam picked up his journal and started on a zigzag path to the door, idly poking and studying things on the way.

"You want to stay here and help me with the sanding?" Luke offered, concerned that his spacey kid was at loose ends.

"No thanks." Sam hopped over the threshold. "I've got things to do."

Luke shook his head, wondering if the 'things' were real or imagined, but largely satisfied with the exchange he'd just had with his son.

For maybe 15 minutes, Luke worked in peace. He found brackets he wanted to use on the shelf. He traced out a pattern for some decorative scrollwork he planned to add along the back.

But then his concentration was destroyed when he sensed his wife sneaking up behind him. It wasn't because she was moving indelicately or bumping into things or anything like that. It had something more to do with how he used to feel in the diner, back in those years before they were together, when he somehow just knew when to look up at the door before the bells even jingled to announce her arrival. These past dozen years of their marriage had only enhanced his awareness of her. Her scent. Her warmth. The way her presence somehow altered the atmosphere around him.

He waited now, giving no clue that he was aware of her approach. In his head, he counted her steps. Then, at the last moment, he spun around and pounced.

Lorelai squealed as he captured her against him. He brought his mouth against hers, trying to entice her to open to him.

To his surprise she pushed back against his advances. "Watch it, Hot Stuff," she whispered to him, her hand pushing against his shoulder. "I've got an extra appendage attached to me here."

"You've got ― What?" Luke looked at her, confused and a tiny bit hurt. It wasn't often that Lorelai wasn't in favor of locking lips. He instantly began to wonder if he'd done something wrong. Maybe he shouldn't have let Rick go play ball after all.

Just then an excitedly shrill giggle assaulted his ears. Looking down, Luke saw a small tousled head and very animated blue eyes sparkling up at him. A toddler was wedged between Lorelai's legs.

"Paw-Paw!" the little boy shrieked, forcibly abandoning Lorelai in favor of Luke.

Luke grabbed Lorelai's elbow, making sure she had her balance, before he scooped up the newcomer.

"Ryan!" Luke swung the boy up in his arms, and Ryan immediately cuddled up against him, contentedly fingering the cozy flannel shirt Luke had on. "Did I know you were coming to see me?"

"No. It a su'pise," Ryan told him, still exploring his grandpa's shirt. He knew that sometimes there was a peppermint hidden in the pocket for him.

"Where's your mommy?" Luke asked him.

"She talkin' wid Ap'il," Ryan explained.

"April's still here?" Luke questioned Lorelai.

Lorelai nodded, leaning over to stroke her grandson's arm. "Rory pulled in just as April was leaving. They started talking and haven't stopped since. I went out and rescued the boy here from his car seat. Heaven knows how long it would have been before either of them thought about him."

"Right," Luke said drily. "Because this kid is so neglected and abused."

Lorelai had to grin at that. "He's a boy, Luke. You know how much ours hated being restrained in the car. And he had a long ride, coming to see us today."

"He slept the whole way," Luke guessed, stroking the soft cheek that still showed creases from being pressed up against the side of the restraining seat.

"Probably," Lorelai agreed. She swooped in to leave a loud smack of a kiss against Ryan's cheek.

He giggled and dove, trying to get away from her, inadvertently making it hard for his grandpa to hold him.

"Geoff didn't come?" Luke wondered, once he had Ryan's flailing body captured again.

Lorelai shook her head, still beaming at Ryan. "He stayed in the city. Something about making sure a ginormous wedding cake got delivered in one piece."

Rory had actually met her future husband at Yale, although neither had made much of an impression on the other. It wasn't until they both found themselves on a bus, following the presidential campaign trail, that they really got to know each other. At first they both thought their friendship was one of necessity and convenience. It was nice to know someone in the midst of a busload of strangers. It was nice to have someone who got your humor and references. It was nice to look up at the end of a long day and see a friendly face and a welcoming wave, beckoning towards a saved seat. Two against the world didn't take as much courage as going it alone did.

Eight months into the campaign, Geoff received heartbreaking news. His aunt had been killed in a car crash. He flew home to New York, thinking he'd be gone just long enough to attend the funeral. Instead he discovered that he'd been left his aunt's bakery. Although he knew that she'd probably left it to him as an investment, thinking that he'd sell it and bank the profits, he came to slowly realize that he couldn't do that. Abruptly, his life took off down another path.

After countless late-night phone calls discussing the pros and cons, Rory gave Geoff her stepfather's number, telling him that maybe Luke could help him make sense of the business.

Luke went to meet Geoff with his usual reluctance. It was a measure of his love for Rory that he agreed to drive into the city to look over the shop. It stopped being an obligation, however, when Geoff showed him around and told him about his aunt, his voice choking up as he told Luke how much he'd loved spending time in the shop with her.

"This was her place. Her dream," Geoff explained. His hand lovingly patted the display case, where the doughnuts should be. "I can't imagine it ever being anything else."

Of course Luke could understand that better than anyone. He became Geoff's tutor and mentor, and spent many happy hours in the fledgling bakery with him. Luckily Geoff had taken some business classes early in his Yale years and also seemed to have inherited his aunt's way with pastry.

Meanwhile, Rory had continued on with her journalism career. She continued writing on-line after the campaign ended and eventually accepted an offer from the Sacramento Bee. Logan swooped down on her the second she crossed the California border, or so it seemed to a skeptical Lorelai and Luke.

They hated having Rory so far away, but she seemed pleased with all aspects of her life, so that gave them consolation. She tried out one job after the other, finally coming to rest at a PBS station. Her life seemed settled until Jess announced he was getting married.

Without a word to even Lorelai, Rory left Logan and sunny California and flew into Philadelphia, focused on reclaiming the man she decided had really been the love of her life. It didn't take her long, however, to find that although she and Jess still had a special bond, it wasn't love. And she had to admit that his slightly Goth-chick fiancée, Rosamond, fitted him like a well-worn black leather jacket.

Despondent and confused, Rory drove a rental car the rest of the way to Stars Hollow. She stepped through the door of her old home and dropped her bags. "Well, I'm home," she announced crankily, stomping through the entryway.

Luke and Geoff were in the living room, analyzing the most recent sales figures from the bakery. Both heads shot up in surprise.

Stunned, Rory looked at Geoff.

His heart right there for all to see, Geoff lovingly gazed at Rory.

Rory straightened up and pushed her hair back behind her ears. "I…You…You're here," she said softly, the old sweetness spreading over her face.

Embarrassed, Luke watched Geoff swallow hard, finding himself an uncomfortable witness to the yearning being so openly displayed. "I'm here," Geoff allowed. He cleared his throat and sounded more confident. "I'm always going to be here."

"That's good," Rory murmured, her eyes never leaving Geoff's. "That's really good."

Lorelai and the boys came running from the far reaches of the house, but they skidded to a stop when they reached the living room, sensing that something momentous was going on.

Unnoticed by either Rory or Geoff, Luke got up from the couch and went over to a bemused Lorelai. "I think we should go out to eat tonight," he suggested, motioning towards the silent, smitten pair still staring at each other. "I think they might need some time alone."

By the time they returned from Al's, everything was settled between the newly-created couple.

When Geoff left to go home to the city, Rory did too. Her now-impressive résumé and samples of her published works got her a position on the New York Times before Richard could even pull some strings to get her an interview there.

Later that summer the chuppah in the yard got to see another Gilmore wedding. The Dragonfly hosted another happily-ever-after reception. And Geoff was relieved to let Sookie take on the responsibility of making their wedding cake.

Now Ryan began to fidget in Luke's arms, and Luke put him down. "Everything's OK, right?" he asked Lorelai. "That troublemaking Vera's not giving Geoff problems again, is she?"

"I'm sure everything's fine," Lorelai reassured him. "I'll bet Rory will bring along your playmate next time."

Luke sent her a dark look, making her laugh.

"It's great that you like Geoff so much," she said. "I always worried that you'd chase any of Rory's suitors right out of town, so the fact that you'd already bonded with him instead is a miracle. I'm sure that April is hoping the same thing happens with Brad."

Luke gave a snort. "Yeah, don't think that's going to happen with me and Mr. Magic Beans."

"Be nice," she warned him.

"I'm always nice," he reminded her, trying once again to sneak in a kiss to prove it.

Lorelai shook her head at him, stepping back. "Kid, remember?" she said, pointing at Ryan.

"When did you turn into such a goody-goody?" he complained. "What happened to the crazed woman I used to have crawling all over me out here?"

"She became a grandmother," Lorelai replied promptly. "I don't want to take the chance of corrupting the morals of yet another generation."

"No one would believe that you're a grandmother," Luke told her. His eyes roamed over her, still liking what he saw.

His campaign to get her to eat healthier had largely been a success. There had been a lot of compromises, but the unexpected pregnancy had helped to jump-start the better diet. He'd also been able to lure her out of the house each night for a lengthy walk around town under the pretense that it was romantic. Which, he had to admit, it actually had been, even during the years when the walk included a toddler or two in a stroller.

Today Lorelai practically glowed with good health. The warmth from this Indian summer day had her dressed in capri-length jeans and an orange tank top. Her long curls were clipped up to the top of her head, and although she kept insisting there were ample silver strands beginning to run through them, Miss Clairol kept them hidden. Starbursts of wrinkles were starting to radiate from the corners of her eyes, but Luke claimed to not be able to see them, either

"Once again you're proving my point that you need glasses," Lorelai rebutted him, even though she grinned and struck a sexy pose, making Luke's eyebrows raise comically. "So, Grandpa, can you watch Ryan?"

"Well…" Luke was torn. As much as he loved having Ryan with him, he really did have a list of tasks he'd hoped to accomplish today in the shop.

"I tried taking him with me over to Babette and Morey's," Lorelai said. "That didn't work out at all. All he wanted to do was chase the cat, and that meant I had to try and pack up stuff one-handed, because my other hand was on him. Let me tell you, that is not an efficient packing method."

Babette and Morey were getting ready to move across town. Taylor, always the entrepreneur, had decided that the next big thing was to be found in aging baby boomers. He had built an assisted living facility on the outskirts of town, finally finding a use for one of the many parcels of land he'd acquired over the years. Babette and Morey were going to be his first tenants. His strict 'no pets' rule had only lasted about five minutes when it came face-to-face with Babette's iron will.

"Patty's the only one over there right now, and I need to get back to help," Lorelai added. "I think I'll take Sam with me, though. He'll be great at wrapping up the breakables. And Babette's already mourning that she won't automatically see him every day after they move."

"Sure," Luke decided. He put an old piece of carpet on the floor and Ryan promptly came running and plopped down on it. Then Luke lowered an old paint can half-full of miscellaneous washers, nails, and screws in front of him. He found a couple of empty baby food jars and set them on the floor, too.

"Sort them out for me, will you, buddy?"

Ryan squealed with delight and clapped his hands, instantly diving into the task. Now that he was past the stage of putting everything into his mouth, he loved this workshop chore as much as Sam and Rick did at his age.

"Thanks, Luke." The irresistible lure of her adorable grandson forced Lorelai to go over to Ryan one more time and smooth the top of his head. "Be good for Paw-Paw, OK?"

Ryan nodded absently, already lost in the glories of the pile of metal in front of him.

"You won't have to babysit too long," Lorelai said encouragingly as she prepared to leave the shop. "Rory will be in here soon. She wants to talk to you."

"Rory want to talk to me?" Instant prickles of alarm were running up and down the hairs on his arms.

Lorelai nodded. "That's why she came here today. She wants to talk to you."

"Why does she want to talk to me?" About a dozen terrible scenarios began to revolve about his head.

"Babe, don't sweat it, OK? Rory loves you. She just wants to see you. Not everything is a reason for you to worry."

Luke looked at his wife's cheery face and heard her soothing tone. If only he didn't know how many times she'd employed those same tactics when things had not been fine. But he started to breathe easier anyway.

"Hey," he said, reaching out and grabbing her arm as she started to walk away. He pulled her closer to him.

"I love you, you know," Luke said. It was something he tried to say to her at least once a day. No matter how many times he said it though, or how lightly he tried to get the words to come out, they always came out choked in emotion. They always sounded like he was pledging his life to her, all over again.

Lorelai stopped and nodded, her eyes shining back at him. "Yeah, I know," she said softly. No matter how many times she heard it, those words always made a few stray tears glisten in her eyes. She looked around now, making sure that Ryan was still happily distracted on the floor. She angled herself even closer to Luke and threw her arms around his neck, fitting up against him like a puzzle piece. "I love you too," she whispered, her cheek rubbing against his smoothly-shaven one. She kissed him then, and it refreshed his memory on why he had an 11-1/2 year old son.

"Not bad for an old guy," she complimented him, running a teasing finger along the collar of his t-shirt. "Do you think we could maybe continue this about 10:30 tonight?"

Luke hugged her tightly, placing a couple of kisses along the side of her face. "It's a date."

"If you're not asleep."

"If I'm asleep, you have my permission to wake me up."

Lorelai's eyebrows arched in amusement. "Any way I want?"

"Within reason." One more kiss and Luke reluctantly let her go. "Go pack up the huge stuff in the tiny house."

"Bye, Ryan!" Lorelai called out to the boy. "Bye, Hot Stuff," she said in a more meaningful way to Luke. She blew him a kiss and sauntered out the door, her long ponytail swinging across her shoulders.

Luke was not at all ashamed that he watched her every retreating step.

He didn't want to make a lot of noise or stir up dust while Ryan was in the shop, so Luke cleaned off his workbench instead, putting away materials that had gotten dumped out of their containers and left to sit in a pile. He pulled out the printouts on the next orders and ran through his stockpile, making sure that he had the materials he was going to need.

It wasn't long before he heard quiet footsteps and a soft voice. "Hi, Luke."

He turned to see the woman he still sometimes thought of as that clear-eyed and spunky sixteen-year-old. "Hi, Rory."

"OK if I come in?" Rory asked, polite and considerate as ever.

"Of course," Luke said, trying not to let her see how closely he was watching her.

"Mama, I helpin'," Ryan informed her, his tiny fists enthusiastically diving into the treasure before him, spreading the nuts and bolts far and wide.

Rory chuckled. "Yes, I can see that. I'm sure Paw-Paw appreciates the fine job you're doing." She walked over to a stool Luke kept in front of the workbench and rather cautiously hoisted herself up on it.

Luke was trying not to stare and obsess, but he could tell she wasn't moving like she should. He could see the purple marks under her eyes, the same smudges her mother got when she hadn't been sleeping well.

"Everything OK?" he tried to ask casually, but he was no actor. He was sure she could already tell he was worried.

"Everything's fine," Rory said, her head bobbing at him.

"Geoff's OK? The business?" His inquiries came out sharp and blunt.

Rory smiled. She didn't have Lorelai's smile, the one that glittered and charmed. Rory's mature smile was quieter and calmer, but when it broke over her face it made everyone around feel warm and loved.

"Everything's good, Luke. Everything's perfect, actually."

The smile took the edge off his worry. "Your mom said you wanted to talk to me."

"I do." The smile was still in plain view and her eyes looked at him fondly. "First you have to promise me that you won't get mad at Mom, because she already knows what I'm going to tell you."

The respite from the worry was brief indeed. "She knows what?" he asked sharply.

Rory bit at her bottom lip for a moment, trying not to laugh in pure happiness. "That you're going to be a grandpa again."

His breath rushed out of him as he took in this news, and then in the next second Luke hurried to her side. She jumped off the stool and met him in a bear hug of joy.

"Rory, that's…that's incredible news." Luke squeezed her as tightly as he dared. "Geoff's happy?"

"Geoff's over the moon," Rory said with a chuckle, patting Luke on the back.

Luke stepped back and motioned at Ryan. "What's he think about it?"

Rory chuckled again, climbing back onto the stool. "The whole concept of the stork coming to our house is a little nebulous right now, I think. We'll address it more when the time gets closer."

"And you're feeling all right?" He could still sense that he hadn't been told everything.

"I am." Rory took in a deep breath. "Well, considering, you know. Once my stomach settles down in the mornings. But yeah, I'm feeling pretty good. Besides, I'm almost through those first three months of yuck."

Now Luke knew there was more to the story than what he was being told. They had known Ryan was on the way almost before the stick changed color. He gave her a modified 'dad glare,' hoping that would be enough to force her to come clean.

Rory sighed, resigned. "The doctor didn't like some things she was seeing. I just knew in my heart that everything was OK, but I still had to take into consideration what she was telling me. I had to confide in somebody, and ― Well, you know, Luke, for me that means Mom. I begged her not to tell you because I knew you'd worry all the time about it, and I didn't want to see you like that. Mom agreed, but she didn't like keeping it from you. So don't be mad at her, please? I'm the one who forced the deception." Rory was still really good at turning on the puppy dog eyes, and she employed them now. "Plus, I'm a pregnant lady. Can't get mad at a pregnant lady, can you?"

"I suppose not," Luke said gruffly. He directed another stern look in her direction. "But you're telling me the truth now? Everything's OK? You're healthy? The baby's healthy?"

"We're fine. The things she'd been monitoring corrected themselves. Wonky readings or something." Rory shrugged and then slid off the stool, reaching into the pocket of the jumper she was wearing. "You want to see?" she offered, waving an amber-hued photo at him. A big grin was on her face.

Luke was amazed at the clarity of the image. It was apparent that ultrasound photography technology had leapt ahead even in the few years since Ryan was born. The sweet face of the new baby was right there for him to marvel at.

"Rory. He's just…I don't know what to say." Luke shook his head and cleared his throat, nearly overcome by the sight of this new grandchild.

"She."

"What?" Luke was still staring at the picture and wasn't sure if he'd heard correctly.

"She." Rory looked so pleased and smug. "We're finally adding another girl to the family. I'm so done with all these stinky boys."

Luke was stunned. "She's a girl?"

"She is indeed. Mom can once again bedazzle onesies to her heart's content."

After the birth of their two boys, they still had hoped to someday add in a baby sister, but it hadn't happened. They finally decided that they'd been blessed with a perfectly blended family of two girls and two boys. After Ryan came along, that nagging wish for another little girl had been locked away.

Luke got his arm around Rory and gave her another squeeze. "She's the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"Well, I think so!" Rory laughed. She let Luke keep possession of the picture while she settled back down on the stool. "So Mom says you've already got her named."

"I…What?" Once again Luke was at a loss. He stared at Rory in confusion.

"A name," Rory prompted him. "Mom says you've got a name all picked out and an epic story to explain where it came from." She rocked back and forth on the stool, getting comfortable. "Let's hear it."

It had been a very long time since Luke had any reason to remember the nightmare he'd once had. Thirteen years ago it had awakened him to how wrong and empty his life would be without Lorelai in it. But maybe the dream hadn't been truly forgotten after all. Not completely, anyway. It still hovered darkly in the recesses of his thoughts, making him humbly grateful for his daily blessing of a home. A family. Love. Because he knew how easily it could have all tipped in the other direction.

Through the open workshop window he could faintly hear Lorelai's boisterous laugh wafting in from next door, along with a few chords from Morey's piano. Paul Anka barked sharply, probably at the squirrel he chased multiple times a day.

Luke looked around the workshop. He saw Rory beaming at him, already appearing rounder and softer to him with the knowledge of the new baby girl coming. He glanced at Ryan, the grandson he never dreamed he'd have, contentedly lining up an army made of washers and bolts.

He cleared his throat and then took a deep breath, preparing for the excess of words he was going to be obliged to use to tell his tale.

"Lexie," Luke began, not really surprised at how good and right and perfect it felt to finally say it again. "Her name is going to be Lexie."