❝L'S RUN IN THE FAMILY❞
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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ chapter two, pre Gilmore Girls

January 11th, 1985

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[ LUKE'S POV ]

ONE MONTH AGO I BROUGHT HER HOME. One month ago I held her for an hour and cried for two before they allowed me to bring her back home where I had to explain to my father why I had a child in my arms.

The conversation was difficult. A lot of stammering and awkwardly laughing to make the situation seem better but nothing could prepare me or my dad for this. I have a daughter and my dad is a grandfather again. He barely got to know Jess before Liz took off but I wanted my dad to know of my kid.

My kid that I haven't named yet.

Sure, I've tried to think of a name. I've wrote quite a few options down but none of them suit her. The only part of her name I know for sure is Danes. I've considered naming her after my mother but I hated that idea too. Instead her middle name will be my mother's name of Lilia. I think I want her name to begin with an L which narrows my list down slightly.

My dad has been trying to help in any way he can. He wakes up when I do, mainly because she screams very, very loudly which doesn't just wake us up but also wakes up the entire neighbourhood who now know I'm a father to a month old baby girl.

When the town saw me holding a baby girl in the hardware store, rocking her to sleep in my arms, they instantly knew that she was mine just from looking at her. She holds the same features I do and it's very obvious that she is mine. I was afraid to walk around town with her, mainly because this town is full of gossips who found this news to be extremely exciting.

Everybody has held her, and I mean, everybody has held her. I feel like I've passed her from one person to the next but she always ends up back in my arms, clinging onto my fingers with her hands and crying.

For a month, I've had a total of twenty-hours sleep but I can't complain. Shockingly, since having her, I have found that she is the only person in the world that I care about. I've found myself to be extremely protective, my hands always reaching out to take her when she starts crying. She's stolen my heart faster than anybody ever has, and I can't believe how much I love her after a month.

People say I've picked up the father role quite quickly and outside of this house, I act like I have understood the role of being a father, but inside the safety of my home, I struggle. She rests in the crib- my old crib- next to my bed and I stare at her, checking that she's breathing. When I'm alone, I'm afraid I'm screwing her up. She's stuck with me for the rest of her life and I'm afraid I'm going to hurt her. Maybe I won't be a good dad.

I like to think I've done a good job so far. I've fed her, bathed her, rocked her, and changed her whenever she needs comfort and security. I'm constantly holding her, afraid that if I let go of her for a second, she'll hate me. The only time I let her go is when she sleeps next to me, so close so I can hear her when she cries or when she moves in her bed. I would hate to not be awake when she needs me so I hardly sleep anymore because I want to protect her. I want her to know that she has somebody even if I don't think I'm doing the best job.

I'm afraid that her not having a mother will have an impact on her in the future and I'd hate for her to resent me because of the lack of motherly love I can provide to her. I'm trying my best to be a parent to her, to be nurturing and caring, but it's difficult in more ways than I was prepared for.

She's surprisingly an easy kid to take care of, apparently a lot easier than I ever was as a kid. She sleeps steadily, only waking when she wants a bottle or a diaper changing. She's healthy and well according to the doctors, and I made sure to check if she would be affected by the abandonment of her mother but, of course, the doctors don't know for the future. I just really hopes I'm not screwing her up. I want more for her than I ever had, and the doctors suggested I speak to somebody about my concerns but I've never been one to believe in therapy or psychology.

I just wish I could figure out a name.

I need to name her. All I've been calling her is "kid" over the last month and I don't want her to actually think that's her name, if she can even think that.

My bedroom door is pushed open quietly, revealing my dad. "Sorry. Did I wake you?" I don't know how I could've woke him but I figured I'd ask.

"You're still awake," he says, his voice tired.

I yawn, hitting my pen against my notepad that has six girls names scribbled down. "Uh, yeah. She's just trying to sleep and-" My words are silenced by the shrill scream of my daughter. She must be hungry. I knew she'd wake up soon. She always wakes up around this time in the early hours of the morning.

I move from my bed to retrieve her from the crib. I clutch her close to my chest, holding her tightly as her cries fill the room. I rock her gently, beginning to move away from my bedroom and past my father who remains quiet while I head to the kitchen. I prepared a bottle for her earlier and all I need to do was put hot water in.

I continue to rock her, rubbing my hand up and down her back as she cries loudly. "Shush, baby. It's okay," I soothe, pressing my cheek against her bed of hair. "It's okay. It's okay."

My dad steps into the kitchen. He's rubbing his eyes, obviously tired and I feel bad that I've been keeping him awake recently. This last month has been hard and his support has been incredible. I know I need to think of a better living situation so he can get some real sleep.

I'll figure something out.

While I feed her, my dad reads off my notepad that he grabbed from my bed. I've been scribbling list after list of things I've needed to buy for her over the last month. I've bought her toys and clothes and I've received many contributions from the town which I greatly appreciate.

"Why do all these names begin with an L?" Dad asks, his eyes squinting as he reads off the list of girl names.

"Don't know." I shrug, not really knowing why I actually want to have her name begin with the same letter as mine. Maybe having our names seem and sound remotely similar will make me feel better about all this.

"I like Lucy," Dad says, his finger tapping against my squiggly handwriting. "Lucy and Luke go well together, you know?"

That's what I was thinking.

Also, my mother's favourite show was "I love Lucy," and she used to watch it when I was a kid. I guess I've always subconsciously liked the name in a way, I don't know.

"Do you think Lucy is a good adult name though?" I'm not just naming a baby, I'm naming a toddler, a child, a teenager, an adult, and an elderly. I need this name to carry meaning for the rest of her life. I want her to like her name.

Who knew naming somebody was so hard?

I look down at my daughter, my hand bringing the bottle away from her mouth as she finishes. She instantly closes her beautiful blue eyes, her head falling against my chest again as I continue to rock her softly.

I lift her slightly, letting her rest her head into my shoulder as I hold her head and run a hand down her back gently.

"Make it fancy," Dad suggests, and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. "Make Lucy a nickname to..." He shrugs, trying to figure out a name that'll be suitable. "Lucinda?"

"No," I reply. "She isn't a Lucinda."

"Lucia?"

I chuckle, not understanding where my dad is getting all these names from. "No."

"Uh, what about-"

"How do you have all these names, Dad?"

"I picked up a book at the library of names for newborns," he says casually like picking up a book is something he would do. I can't help but grin in amusement, not wanting to laugh as I can't wake the now sleeping girl in my arms. "What? I know how to read. Who do you think taught you?"

"I'm not saying anything," I say, my grin widening. "You're doing more than me."

"Hey, you're doing a lot for that kid, Luke."

As much as I've tried to hide my insecurities about being a dad, my dad can obviously see right through me which isn't surprising. We're close and all I want is to be a good dad to my daughter like he is to me and Liz.

I hold her close, a hand rubbing soothingly up and down her back carefully. "I know. I just don't want her to resent me when she's older because I can't-"

"You can't pick a name?" Dad scoffs, shaking his head.

"No. I feel she'll resent me because I can't be her mother. I can't give her what a mother can give a child." As much as I want to give her everything her mother should be giving her, I can't. I don't have the nurturing instincts that a mother has even though I want to.

My dad steps forward, his hand reaching out to brush against his granddaughter's hair. "She'll never resent you, not when you stepped up and acted as her parent. She's going to be thankful for you when she's older, okay? She's going to be seriously grateful for you. The only person she'll resent is her mother for not being here, okay, not you."

He's right. Of course he's right. Why did I think she'd resent me for stepping up and being her father? When she's older, I don't know how I'll explain to her who her mother is but I can't think about that right now. She has me and I will never, ever leave her. God, I can't even imagine leaving her in the same way her mother did.

I look at her and I see my whole life.

How could Violet leave her?

"Hmm," Dad hums, stepping away from the girl who sleeps soundly in my arms. "What about Luciana?"

"What?"

"Luciana," he repeats. "Nickname can be Lucy. It's an adult name, don't you think? And it's a beautiful name."

For a beautiful girl.

I ease her into my arms, holding her in both arms as I look down at her. She's cuddled up, her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth slightly agape as she sleeps. Peaceful. Angelic. Beautiful.

"Luciana," I say, running a finger against her cheek. "Luciana Danes."

My dad plants a hand against my shoulder quietly. "I think you've found your name."

And just like that, my daughter became known as Luciana Lilia Danes.

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