Dream Weaver

Luke tossed his dinner jacket on the chair in the suite’s living area and unfastened his tie, while he made his way down the small hallway to Laura’s room.
The nurse greeted him as he entered. "Goede avond Dhr. Carmichael." Good evening Mr. Carmichael.
Luke wearily nodded, asking. "Goede avond verpleegster. Enig verandering in Mevr. Carmichael?" Good evening, nurse. Any change in Mrs. Carmichael? She shook her head, wishing she could give him better news. "Geen." None.
He hadn’t expected the answer to be any different...
The light was dim in the room, but Luke could see Laura lying in the bed. He went to her and kissed the top of her head.
"Elsie Mae sends her love, Sweetheart," he whispered. She didn’t move, only stared straight ahead. "Dear God, Laura!" He pled to her in his head. "Come back to me, Baby!"
He turned away from her and made his way back to the living room. The scotch and crystal glass was waiting for him on a silver tray. Luke poured the single malt, neat, and took a gulp. He looked at the room’s phone to see if the message light was lit before he realized how stupid that thought was. No one but Robert and Tiffany knew he was here. He thought about calling Bobbie, but decided against it. She’d ask too many questions that he didn’t want to answer.
He poured another scotch and carried the bottle with him as he walked to the window and stared out at the Amstel River.
He thought about Tiffany again and a silent laugh made his chest contract. He had his loner-routine down pat, but he had to admit that Robert had been right to send her. She had brought him an undefinable kind of comfort. Luke didn’t have to pretend with Tiffany. She understood him. She had seen his demons on more than one occasion, and was one of the few people who had been unafraid of what she saw. She didn’t mince words. She called it as she saw it, and she never judged. She was among a handful of people who had broken through his barriers and he had let inside. Tiffany was one of the few people he trusted with his life and Laura’s.
Tiffany was a hellcat alright, and he loved her more because of it, and her loyalty to his family. She made no bones about her dislike of Tracy. He got that.
Hell, he hadn’t much liked her either until after Vegas. He wondered when he would have to come clean about Vegas? Luke held his cards close to his chest like any good poker player. Tracy could be a good ally or your worst enemy, and he knew before it was over, he’d be the latter to her. He had come to appreciate certain things about Tracy. She had earned his respect though she’d probably never believe it completely. Tracy was a lot like Luke: she was more vulnerable than she wanted anyone to know. She had shown that side of herself to him, and he tried to be sensitive to that trust - as much as he was capable of being to any woman who wasn’t Laura. Luke was running out of gas. He could feel it. There was only one thing that could fill him up again.
He looked to the hallway leading to Laura’s room. If only she would wake up and fill his senses again. Give him back his life. His heart. His soul. If only...if only...if only...
Laura. She was his home. She had always been that to him, and wherever she was, his heart was with her. He remembered their last waking moments together in November. It brought tears back to his eyes. He gulped the last of the scotch and poured another.
Whatever sins he had committed in his life, he had more than paid for 10-times over. He couldn’t imagine any hell greater than this!
He opened the door to the terrace and walked outside into the warm August air. He took a chair close to the railing so that he could look out over the city as he thought about his Angel. Theirs was an unfinished life. So much left to live and experience together...so much he wanted to say to her and hear her say to him. He lived and re-lived the moments of their life together in his mind. It was like a slow-motion projector that ran continuously in his head. Flashes of light and laughter flicked like fireflies in his memory and always, always, always, Laura’s face was attached to them. And her smile...
It was like a beacon that guided him home when he was lost. In every good and decent experience in his life, Laura’s smile had been the focal point of it: When they took vows the first time and he gave her that stupid cigar band; when he showed her their ship that was coming in all those years ago, and she accepted his proposal for real; on the best day of his life, when she stood next to him and told the world that she belonged to him; when she came back to him in ‘83 and made him believe in miracles; when she told him that he was going to be a father for the first time, and she opened his heart up wider than he had ever imagined it could open; when they watched Lesley Lu’s sonagram together, and he felt the overwhelming joy over having a mini version of Laura running around; when they danced while it snowed - as they found their way back to each other; when she stood by him without reservation the previous November and pledged her life and love to him all over again. He closed his eyes seeing her smiling at him in all of those instances. She was the light. She was his light...
"You can be anything you want to be, Lucas Lorenzo Spencer!" her words echoed in his mind, and he believed it. He believed her. Luke was not a believing man about most things. His early life had substantiated the lack of belief in anyone or thing. Until Laura. Oh, how he believed in them....and her....and him when he was with her. She made up for all the low-life, rat-trap, dirty places he had been in his life! All the ugly things he had seen and been a part of had somehow been buffered after he met Laura. Her love made him pure and clean. He never understood how she was able to see the good in him? He never understood how she was able to love him, but
she did. When he looked into her eyes, all he saw was love and acceptance. How was that possible? He stopped trying to figure it out years ago and just took it readily and thankfully. The only place he ever wanted to be was lost in her eyes. Even when she was exasperated with him, he still felt worthy being on the receiving end of those beautiful baby blues.
"Your eyes," she had told him. "I love looking in them. I feel so safe in there." He ran his hands through his hair and squeezed his head trying to release the tension that pounded against his temples.
He closed his eyes and heard her say it to him again. "Oh, Laura!" he cried. "Your eyes are my safe place, Baby!"
He remembered a time years ago when they had stood outside of her apartment and he had tried to explain to her about the preoccupation he’d had with her. It frightened him and baffled him. He didn’t understand it! She was standing there, so young and beautiful and all he wanted to do was take her inside and make love to her. It’s all he ever wanted to do - make love to her. Instead, he told her of his obsession. The memory hit him like a ton of bricks:
"I have loved you...." he told her, closing his eyes and feeling it well up inside him. "Oh, I have loved you....I never loved anyone like I’ve loved you. I never thought it was possible to love anyone as much as I loved you....and I loved you too much Laura! I couldn’t think! I couldn’t understand!" She had touched his arm to make him stop talking like he was. Even as he spoke to her, he could see the unsettled look that crossed her face; he could tell that she felt he was now dismissing her and the love they had experienced that summer. He could see that she was frightened not by what he was saying regarding his love, but that he might not feel it any longer.
"I loved you too much! There was nothing else in my life!" She shook her head "no". She didn’t want him to believe that, but he continued.
"I wasn’t there anymore. That kind of love would destroy me. It would break me apart.....and I don’t want to break apart....."
She had offered him her strength once upon a time in that Godforsaken mission.  Luke had told her to keep it because she might need it later. Yet, he didn’t just borrow her strength. He took it for keeps! Every time she offered herself up as his touchstone or support, to take from her what he needed, he took without forethought, because his need was her...always her.
He rubbed his face in his hands. Had he used her up? Did he take so much from her that he left her with not an ounce of reserve for when she truly needed it for herself? That thought had never dawned on him until now because they were a team. They took and gave to one another, like the handing-off of a baton. They balanced each other. He was a selfish bastard, but he would never intentionally hurt his angel. Luke covered his eyes with one hand and wiped the tears from his eyes as he thought about how empty he felt telling her that. He had showed her a false bravado in that moment. He thought he wanted to be free of her all-consuming love. He couldn’t shake it though, or her. Even though he said it, some part of him hadn’t really wanted to shake it, because he felt better and stronger with Laura than he did without her. He remembered the look on her face that night. It showed the same uncertain fear that he felt in his heart now.
"What if we don’t get it back?" she had asked him, concerned. That was the question that kept running through his mind for these last five years. He had managed to disconnect himself from it for awhile. But, since her return last November, it was all he thought about. Luke touched his tongue to his lips, like an addict craving his drug. The touch and taste and feel of her again had given him his long-desired fix. He couldn’t live without her. If he had ever doubted it, when he heard her call his name; when she held his face in her hands and searched his eyes for the safety she felt there, and, upon seeing it, touched her lips to his....it all fell back into place as if time had stood still while she had been gone.
Luke didn’t even bother with the glass anymore. He just held the scotch bottle up to his mouth and poured it down his throat. The liquid burned as it ran throughout his body, as if following the lines of a maze, seeking its final destination. And, when it hit his brain, his demons lapped it up until they had gotten their fill, quieting somewhat, and allowing the pounding in his head to ease a bit.
He thought again of his angel. Laura always made him believe that he was the strong one. He smirked sarcastically when he thought of that. He had wanted to be strong, and tried to be strong for her. He told her one time that she made him strong. They were at Beecher’s Corners in the barn when he said that to her for the first time, and it was true. He thought he was friggin’ Superman when he was with her. She gave him that kind of confidence. But, the truth of the matter was that Laura was the strong one. She was the towering oak. Laura was the pillar that kept them all grounded and able to function.
She had never questioned any of the danger he had brought into her life. She had dodged bullets and explosions. She had uprooted her life and dreams on more than one occasion because of him and the on-the-run lifestyle he had laid at her doorstep. She had learned to read people and their signs and not trust anyone except those few friends who still remained in their lives. Laura never seemed to mind it, as long as they were together. Even when she stood strong in her conviction that they needed to slow down and give their children some stability, he had let her carry that burden almost solely alone, because Laura knew how to do it without him, and he never knew how to do it without her. She inherently knew what they all needed, when they needed it, how much they needed and when to give it. He marveled at that quality of hers. His angel stood mid-center in their family, like she was a circus clown who masterfully juggled the three balls that were her life: Luke, Lucky, Lesley Lu and the roles of wife, mother and homemaker that she had lived for. Laura had kept those balls circling in the air - never dropping any of her responsibility. She was the stronger one of the two. He knew it, and she knew it. Luke remembered when Slick had brought her to the Mission years ago. They were knee-deep in the Ice-Princess debacle. He had left her without a word - thinking that he was protecting her. God, it had been the hardest thing for him to do. He never wanted to be anywhere without Laura, but he didn’t want the danger to touch her either. Still, she came to him - confident, assured and willing to give him whatever help he needed. She didn’t question if Luke knew what he was doing. She believed in him - in them. All she wanted from him was to know if he needed her. He had grabbed her and cried out when she asked him that. He had always needed her! He would always need her.  In that moment, Luke told her how strong she was, as she stood there in her black, Lucy Johnson wig. He smiled when he thought of her as Lucy Johnson - Mrs. Lucy Johnson. Laura had looked him straight in the eyes and said, "You can borrow it any time you want....."
Luke’s memories spiraled again and took him back in time. Laura was hysterically crying and holding onto to him for dear life. "Luke! Help me!" she had cried. "I’m going crazy!" The image of Duval lying dead in front of her fireplace had shaken her core, and driven her back to the nightmare of David Hamilton. The story had come out in sobs of painful humiliation.  He had never loved her more than in that moment when she opened the darkest parts of her soul to him. The Deja Vu of Duval’s death, and the cruel way that the players in the dangerous game they had been involved in had used it against her, had made her question her sanity. Yet, Luke had never seen her exhibit more courage and strength than in that moment... He kept assuring her that she wasn’t crazy! He had stroked her hair and rocked her tenderly as he quieted those fears in her. They would play this scene over several times in their lives: when she thought the Cassadines had taken Lesley Lu from General Hospital; when they thought Lucky had died in the fire; that night in the Attic... Each time, she had cried for Luke to help her, to hold her, to assure her as she questioned her sanity. It was easy for him to give her that confirmation because Luke knew she wasn’t crazy.
He poured more scotch down his throat as he thought about the pain those moments had caused her. Luke had taken her face in his hands each time and said so clearly, slowly, loudly: "Laura! You aren’t crazy, Baby! Shh...you aren’t crazy! Your system is in shock-overload. Your bearings are off, Baby, but you’ll get them back...." And he’d look her deep in her eyes and whisper to her over and over again, "You’re not crazy!" She would cling to him. Her arms would latch onto him, and she would bury her face in his chest, inhaling deeply as if she were sucking from him some life force that only he could give to keep her afloat.
Luke would breathe with her like this until her grip eased, her breathing returned to normal, and the doubt that shadowed the sparkle in her eyes lifted. Their eyes would lock and speak in silent syllables of love and gratitude. Laura would smile at him, and he would kiss her hands, feeling her strength returning again as she squeezed his hands, letting him know that it was so.
Luke didn’t understand fully what had happened to her in the attic and after, but he knew she wasn’t crazy! The woman he remarried in November had been confident and determined and strong. She handled what she knew was coming with more courage, dignity and grace than he could have shown, had it been him. But, that was his Laura. It haunted him to think that she was locked away inside of herself. He knew that she was strong and whole somewhere behind that vacant stare, and waiting for him. He had to find a way to get through the barrier that was between them. If he could do that, he could find her again. If he could find her again, everything would be alright...she was the light. She was his light. Without her, his life was darkening.
He was the one slowly losing his mind, and it frightened him. His demons had overtaken him.
His thoughts were muddied. He was literally going crazy!
Luke Spencer wasn’t frightened by much, but he was scared that he was going to self-destruct before Laura could return to heal him and make all the darkness go away. Yes, she could heal him! She had so many times before. Her hands on his face, her forehead against his - looking into his eyes, her smile, her kiss would make all his demons go away...
Luke couldn’t help himself any longer, he needed to talk with someone so he dialed her room.
"Hello?" her voice was husky at night.
"I’m sorry, Baby! I shouldn’t have called," Luke mumbled, slurring his words.
Tiffany bolted upright and turned on the bedside light. The clock on the night stand read 3 am. Her heart began to race. He only did this when he was in a bad way. It wasn’t very often, but if he called, it was bad. "Are you okay? Do you want me to come over?"
Luke began to giggle in the way he did when he was drunk. "I’m on this balcony, Tif, and I gotta tell ya that the bottom down doesn’t look so bad."
"Where’s Laura? Has something happened?" Tiffany asked, concerned.
Luke did a combination belch-hiccup and said loudly into the phone. "She’s with Nurse Rachet!  I swear, Baby, I’m going to have to hire another nurse. This one gives me the creeps!"
Tiffany threw the covers back–off her and huffed. "Luke, be quiet! You know that’s not true! You’re drunk. Don’t you move! I’ll be there in a few minutes."
"Thanks, Baby." he slurred.
Tiffany hung up the phone, jumping out of bed. She didn’t have time to dress so she pulled the black silk robe over her pajamas and grabbed the slippers from the foot of her bed. She quickly ran the brush through her hair. Then, she flew out the door and down the hall. When she reached suite P4, she knocked and whispered loudly. "Open the door!"
She heard him wandering around inside, loudly making his way to the door. After fumbling with the lock, he pulled the door open and stood before her a disheveled mess. He swayed slightly and gave her a big smile. "Hey, Baby!" She tried to ignore his smile. His smile got her every time. She pushed him inside and closed the door before she put her arm around him and walked him to the sofa. Luke plopped down on the couch and tried to focus on the image standing in front of him. He didn’t think she seemed as happy to see him as he was to see her. Tiffany stood in front of him with her hands on her hips, staring at him.
His head wobbled as he asked. "Can I get you a drink?"
She snapped at him, while trying to remember that he was drunk. "No! I think you’ve had more than enough for the both of us!"
Luke shrugged and patted the sofa. "Come sit next to me, Baby."
Tiffany sat down and tried to get him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Did something happened after I left?"
Luke threw his hands up in the air and hiccuped again. "Same shit, different day, Baby!" he said.
He needed coffee. Tiffany picked up the phone and spoke softly, "De Roomservice? Ik heb nodig stuurde een pot van sterke, zwarte koffie naar suite P4 alstublieft" Room Service? I need a strong pot of black coffee sent to suite P4 please.Tiffany turned and looked at Luke, trying to figure out how she was going to get him down the hallway. "Okay, we need to get you in the shower, Darlin’! Do you think you can get to the shower?"
Luke belched.
"Honestly, Luke!" Tiffany turned away from him, in disgust, sighing. Why was Robert always AWOL for these situations?! "Take off your shirt and pants."
He blinked a few times as her comment registered, then laughingly said in his drunken stupor as he opened his arms. "Oh, Baby!"
Tiffany rolled her eyes. "As if," she said, sternly.
Luke looked at her slyly. "Are you mad at me?"
"Luke," she pleaded. "I do love you dearly, but you are seriously trying my patience! Now, take off your slacks and shirt." She didn’t wait for his response.
She left him to do as she had instructed and went to the bathroom to turn on the shower. She stood there as the water washed over her hand, waiting for it to turn from cold to tepid. She couldn’t very well stick him in a cold shower, even though he deserved it. The last thing she needed was him having a heart attack on her.
When she returned to the living room, Luke was struggling to step-out of his pants. He looked at her with a sheepish grin on his face and asked as his head wobbled, "Can you help me out of these, Baby?"
Tiffany didn’t say anything. She squatted down and pulled his legs out of the pants. Having accomplished that small feat, she looked up at him and asked him uncertainly. "Can you stand up?"
Luke reached for her, absent-mindedly slapping his hand on her head to steady himself as he pulled himself up.
"Luke!" she said indignantly. She stood up alongside him as he draped his arm over her shoulder. Tiffany kicked the slippers off while she tried to steady them both and wrapped her arm around his waist.
"Sorry, Baby."
She didn’t say anything but thought to herself. "Tiffany Hill. Movie star!" She felt like she was the lead in a badly written Laurel and Hardy skit.
When they got into the bathroom, Luke told her that he could take it from there. "Are you sure?" she asked.
"Just get me to the stall."
Tiffany moved them both to the open stall and held his hand as he stepped inside. She thought he was steady on his feet but as she let go of his hand, he slipped slightly and grabbed for her again. Before she knew it, she was half-way in the shower with warm water hitting her hair, her face, her pj’s. She squealed, spitting water from her mouth as Luke threw his head back, letting the water wash over him. He began laughing as he held onto her, and she held onto him. He shook his head from side to side, letting the water bring him back to his senses, as Tiffany held upher hand to block the water from completely ruining her hair.
"Woo-Hoo!" Luke belted out loudly.
Tiffany was not amused. "Dammit!" She said as he continued to laugh. "I’m glad you’re having such a good time!"
"With you, Baby...it’s always a good time!"
After a moment, the absurdity of the situation struck Tiffany as she stood there soaked to the core. She began to laugh with him. And there they were: Luke in his boxers and Tiffany in her silk pajamas looking like two drenched rats with no ship to jump from.

* * *

After Tiffany got some hot coffee down Luke and managed to get him into bed, she took her wet pajamas off and slid into one of his shirts. She was thankful he was a tall man because his shirt came down to her knees. Tiffany let out a long sigh. This wasn’t a night she would soon forget.
She checked on Luke again and found him snoring softly. Looking at him, he seemed at peace though she knew it was far from the truth. She pulled the covers up around him and kissed him on the top of his head.
She couldn’t stay mad at Luke for long.
Tiffany walked to the other side of the suite, and, like a magnet, felt herself pulled to Laura’s room.
The night-nurse sat in a chair, dozing as the lamp cast a dim glow within the room. Tiffany tip-toed over to the bed. She clutched her chest when she saw her best friend, lying there, looking at the ceiling with a blank stare.
"Oh, Laura!" she whispered, as her heart broke all over again for her friend. Now she understood the depths of his drinking. The tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. "Oh Luke..."

* * *

Luke opened his eyes, feeling like an anvil had dropped on his head. He tapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth, making a slapping noise. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here?
He looked around and saw his boxer shorts and lady’s black sleep-ware on a heap in the floor. He blinked, trying to focus. Tiffany was asleep on the love-seat.
Her legs were curled up in a fetal position with a sheet covering her.
"I don’t know what went on here last night," he said in mock indignation. "But, I hope one of us had a good time!"
Tiffany didn’t open her eyes and mumbled in a sleepy voice. "YOU had a good time last night!"
"Really?" he said, scratching the stubble on his chin. "I can’t remember it. I hate it when that happens!"
"Trust me," she said. "You aren’t missing anything."
Luke sat up, feeling the sheet against his naked body. Glancing down, he said. "I hope you still respect me, Baby!"
"Darlin’, I never respected you in the first place," she said, yawning.
"Oh, Baby!" he said, grabbing his chest, pretending she had wounded him. "That cuts deep. It appears, though, as if you got to know me a little more intimately, Elsie Mae," he said, looking at the pile of clothes on the floor. "I hope you enjoyed the view..."
Tiffany gave him her ‘Don’t flatter yourself’ giggle, replying. "You really do need to get over yourself, Luke Spencer! The room service attendant put you in bed and removed those wet boxers. By the way, $50 bucks is missing from your wallet."
"And I thought you cared..."
"Should the memory of last night ever come to you," she said, with no recriminations. "You’ll know just how much..." she said, wiping the sleep from her eyes.
He pursed his lips together. He wanted to say something serious to her about whatever had happened the previous night but the moment wasn’t right. It would come later.
The mood had suddenly shifted to a serious tone and that wasn’t good for the moment. "And another thing," she said, trying to sound upset. "You’re paying for me to get my hair done!"
He looked at her sideways, saying. "I kinda like this natural look on you."
She rose from the love seat, tossing the pillow and sheet at him. "You kinda would!"
"Oh, Baby!" Luke exclaimed. "And, I thought Laura was the only woman who looked good in my shirts."
Tiffany smiled at him. He was the only man who she could play with like this, and she loved every minute of it. "Flattery will get you nowhere! Your sweet talkin’, while suave, has no effect on me, Luke Spencer."
His eyes were playful. She knew he was completely harmless, but he did enjoy a flirtatious banter with her. "Oh yeah?"
"Fortunately for Laura, I am a steadfast friend," she said, picking up her wet pajamas and winking at him. "And I know that you are a steadfast husband."
"What can I say, Baby?" he asked. "You know me too well."
Tiffany pointed her finger at him, not letting him off the hook that easily. "And you owe me breakfast," she insisted.
Luke bowed his head as if it was the least he could do. "Of course," he replied. He became playful again. He assumed an air of coyness in his voice. "Please be kind when you speak of this..."
"Oh, Honey," she said, dramatically. "Bee*Leave me when I tell you that this is our secret! Although it would be fun to have Tracy find out," she playfully contemplated. "I’ll return the shirt to you in an hour when you pick me up for breakfast."
He chuckled and said. "You keep it, Elsie Mae! It looks better on you anyway."
Her eyes twinkled when he said that. "I’ll show myself out," she said, quickly putting her hand out. "Don’t get up!"
He watched her fly out of the room, trying to leave before Nurse Rachet saw her. "Thanks Dream Weaver," he called, shaking his head at the image of her picking up stray articles of clothing on her way out the door.
"Don’t be late!" she replied. Tiffany picked up her slippers on her way out, and shot a glance at Laura’s room. She didn’t want the nurse to see her.
Quietly, she opened the door and looked down the hall to make certain no one was there. Then she hurried to her room.
Luke put his hands behind his head and leaned back against the headboard. The good things in his life didn’t escape him and Tiffany Hill was definitely a good thing. He couldn’t remember how bad it had gotten last night, but knew he had to be in pretty bad shape for her to stay the night with him. That was the beautiful thing about Tiffany. No matter how dark things got, or how big a pain in the ass he was, she hung in with him until his gale storm past, and he was safely on the other side. He was indebted to few people, but what he owed her, could never be repaid.
For her, it was part of being a friend. For him, it was part of being genuine. Luke thought of her and smiled. Elsie Mae Crumholtz was, indeed, his very rare and special friend.

* * *

Tiffany made it to her room and was just about to close the door when she spied Warner Hughes at the end of the hall looking at her. She smiled at him, knowing there was nothing else she could do and wearily closed the door.
"Great!" she thought as she stood in her suite in nothing but Luke’s shirt, in her bare feet, clutching her wet pajamas and slippers. Just what she needed: Warner Hughes thinking that she was sleeping with her director.
She dropped the clothes on the floor and blew a strand of flat hair from her face. Luke Spencer was going to buy her the most expensive thing on the menu this morning, and Arjen Diederik would be sending Warner Hughes the most expensive bottle of champagne... "With Pleasure."


 
 

https://youtu.be/n-DmAh0dObI  [Dream Weaver/Gary Wright]

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