Tracy found the letter inside the lining of the leather jacket Luke bought her before they skipped town. She went upstairs to her bedroom, more to shut out her father's grumblings about Luke, than because she was actually sleepy. In fact she wasn't sure she would be able to sleep at all since she'd spent the last six weeks glued to Luke's side. He'd been the one to insist she come back when they'd had one too many close calls with Anthony Zacchara's men. Tracy had tried not to let it show how much it bothered her, tried not to think that if it had been her, Luke would not have sent her away the way he did Tracy.
Sent away. Sent away by her father as soon as she could read and write, practically. Sent away by her father not once, not twice, but multiple times. And now sent away by her husband, her soul mate, her second heart.
The rejection that she would not be able to handle the heat of the chase had stung Tracy far more than she would ever admit, even to Luke. She'd tried to dissuade him at first, arguing that she'd faced Helena Cassadine more than once and lived to tell about it, so a crazy midget mobster wasn't going to get the best of her, either. He'd then used the approach that worked: that Lulu needed her, that even Nikolas and Lucky had become accustomed to her being around, and that really, did she truly want Samantha McCall to be in charge of the Haunted Star indefinitely?
No, Tracy had to admit, she didn't. So, after making sure the coast was clear and both would be okay, Tracy had made her way home. Tomorrow no doubt would be mass confusion, and she thought it best to make a call to Alexis Davis first thing in the morning as her number one priority. Tracy had spent the night in jail on several different occasions, and unlike her husband, it wasn't a prospect she wanted to flirt with again.
She snuggled under the covers of her bed with the letter, immediately bringing it to her nose and inhaling the scent of her husband. Tears sprang to her eyes and she took a sharp breath, the pain in her chest palpable as she struggled for composure.
"Dear Tracy, " (here a tear fell, the use of her real name beginning to crack that tightly held composure):
I know you're probably mad at me. Again. It seems like we've been doing a lot of breaking and making up lately, huh, Spanky?
There's nothing more I'd like better than to have you with me the whole time I'm on the road. But that last time, outside the motel, it was just – " Tracy stared at the smudge on the paper, blinking. Had her husband been…crying?
Here she sat the letter aside, allowing the luxury of letting her own tears fall. It wasn't outright sobbing. Tracy Quartermaine did not do that. But it was a deep, heartfelt longing that spilled over into tears. Lonely, sad, frustrated tears. Angrily, Tracy wiped her eyes.
No. NO.
She considered balling the letter up and throwing it away, or burning it. It made her feel too much. It hurt too much. Having him, then not having him. It was a roller coaster she'd ridden one too many times. It just wasn't worth it anymore. It wasn't worth jail, it wasn't worth the months apart, it wasn't…..
The letter lay on the bed, her husband's thoughts beckoning her. She picked it back up:
"it was just too much for me. I thought you'd been shot, Tracy. And I honestly thought I was going to die right there, too. I couldn't live with myself if you were hurt because of me. I didn't ask you to go because I thought you couldn't handle it, Tracy. I asked you to go because I couldn't."
Tracy's eyes widened as a light began to dawn. Ohhhh……..
"Tracy, if we were just bumming around, there's nobody else I would rather have by my side. You're the best "traveling companion" I've ever had, and the only one I want to have. But this isn't a game. The bullet hole in the door of the motel room should tell you that. I promise I'll be careful. I promise to call when I can and get word to you when I can, and I'll come home the minute I know its safe, Spanky. You have to trust me. Trust me when I say that I can't wait to come home to you again. Please always remember I love you."
Luke.
Tracy sighed, wiped away the last of the tears, blew her nose, and tucked the letter in her bureau drawer. Already her heart was lifted. "I will always remember," she whispered, as if he could hear her, wherever he was.
Five hundred miles away, Luke Spencer lay on his back staring up at the stars. He startled, sure at first that he'd heard his wife's voice. Crazy thought, as happy as it was. Luke laughed at himself. Sleep overtook him, and he dreamed of coming home.