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The Lives Between Us

Page 13

by Theresa Rizzo


  Mark sat back, enjoying Ed’s annoyance. “It was your idea. You were whining about her bugging you and suggested that I distract her to get her off your back. Remember?”

  Ed scowled and looked at him as if he was missing more than a few brain cells. “I wasn’t serious.”

  He shrugged. “She’s pretty. And I was curious to see why you’re such a target for her.”

  “And?”

  “And then, I liked her,” Mark admitted. “She’s smart, and kind, and fun.”

  Ed scowled. “Did you find out why she hates me?”

  Mark nodded.

  “Ooh this is good.” Noelle broke in. “Hold that thought—gotta keep on schedule.” Noelle pushed back her chair and strode to the podium.

  “Good evening. My name is Noelle Hastings and you’ve already met my co-chair, Serena Dutton-Michaels. As Serena said, we have an exciting line-up of speakers tonight, but first I’d like to introduce the guest who is going to present the Evelyn Hamill Chateaux Award.

  “Our presenter is a long-time champion for families and for women’s rights. Just to highlight a few of his duties and accomplishments...” Noelle went on cataloging Ed’s credentials. “Please give a warm welcome to Michigan’s Senator…” She turned and smiled warmly at Ed, “And my husband, Edward Hastings.”

  The room erupted in applause as Ed approached the podium. Eyes never leaving hers, Ed held out his hand and pulled Noelle forward to give his proud wife a kiss on the cheek. He slipped his notes to the podium and then looked up at the crowded room of two hundred and fifty.

  “Thank you. Thank you very much for that warm welcome.” Ed looked at Noelle, then back at the audience. “Wow. With an introduction like that, where’s a guy to go from there? Maybe she should be the senator. She certainly could do the job. Like many women, my wife is enormously talented—in a multitude of areas, science included.”

  Ed raised his eyebrows and made eye contact with several people in the audience. He really worked a crowd well. Mark tuned him out for the duration of the awards presentation. He clapped in the appropriate places, but wondered how soon he could cut out.

  Maybe he’d run by the hospital on his way home and see if Skye was still there. He could have the chef wrap up a piece of dessert for her—and some for Faith, too. Maybe they’d go back to her place, put on a little romantic music and slow dance to Frank Sinatra again, before he flew her to the moon. She could stand on his feet again. He kind of liked the way that turned out last time.

  Well, hell. Mark glanced to his right at Serena who sat head down, thumbs stabbing her phone, texting someone, then to his left across Ed’s empty seat to where Noelle sat listening to her husband’s speech. Thank God nobody could hear his thoughts. Flew her to the moon? Now he was thinking about Skye in clichés from old movies? He shook his head.

  Ed announced the winner, shook her hand, and smiled for the pictures, then encouraged her to say a few words. He turned the program over to the Peace Corps doc and took the seat next to Mark. Each guest speaker talked for fifteen interminable minutes, though Mark couldn’t for the life of him remember what they’d said. At the end, he stood and clapped with the rest.

  Ed took the podium again. “And let’s not forget to thank the wonderful sponsors of this event, Aviva Technology.” Ed waved Mark forward. “Mark, come up here.”

  Mark shook his head and remained seated. Public speaking was Ed’s thing, not his. He didn’t crave the spotlight and didn’t need the thanks. It only embarrassed him. Which was exactly why Ed detached the microphone from podium and moved toward him. Asshole.

  Ed grinned down at him. “Stand up, Mark.”

  Mark leveled Ed a stare that promised retribution, then stood. Ed wasn’t going to go away, so he might as well get it over with. The spotlight shone brightly—not quite blinding, but annoying. It didn’t seem to bother Ed. Mark avoided looking at the crowd and fixed his gaze on the empty doors in back to wait Ed out.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Mark Dutton of Aviva Technology.” Ed threw an arm around his shoulder and waited for the applause to die down. “I’ve known Mark here for a long time—ever since college, and he’s one of the most generous guys I know. He’s a little irksome at times—’cause he likes things his way—” Ed shrugged, good-naturedly. “And, of course, I like them mine, but when Noelle told him that she wanted to have this fundraiser but lacked the resources to host the dinner for this worthy cause, Mark stepped up and offered to have his company...”

  Mark saw a movement at the back of the room. A woman stood in the doorway, slowly advancing. She stepped out of the shadows until her face became visible. Ed’s voice grew muffled, like Mark had cotton stuffed his ears, and his vision sharpened on Skye.

  She’d piled her hair on the top of her head except for a few ringlets at her temples and one that curled around the base of her neck to her smooth, bare shoulders. Her dress snugly cradled her breasts, then fell in elegant waves to the floor. God, she was stunning. And looked confused. Even from across the room he could see her frown and melting smile.

  Mark was suddenly conscious of Ed’s arm thrown across his shoulder and how that would look to her. His stomach soured and churned. Of all the ways he’d imagined telling her he and Ed were friends, this was not one of them. Skye’s steps slowed, and her body tensed to military rigidity.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Conscious of their audience, Mark fought the urge to shrug out of Ed’s embrace.

  There was a long pause; must be his turn to talk. Mark took the microphone Ed held out to him. “Thanks, Ed. Aviva is pleased to have the opportunity to help this worthy organization.”

  Skye crossed her arms. Her angry gaze made him feel ashamed and desperate. Desperate to explain the mess he’d created. Desperate to beg her forgiveness. At this point, begging remained his only recourse.

  “We at Aviva strive to hire the best in the industry. We’ve been lucky enough to find several bright women and we’d love to continue the tradition of helping women achieve their potential.”

  Skye suddenly spun on her heel and headed for the door. Mark’s heart jump-started, like a fidgety racehorse bursting from the gate. His leg muscles bunched as he pivoted on the balls of his feet, ready to run after her. “Skye, wait! Please!”

  People’s heads turned, following his gaze to see whom he was shouting at.

  Skye’s stride faltered, and she looked over her shoulder. The spotlight leapt from him and Ed, landing on Skye, blinding her so that she squinted and raised a protective hand to shade her eyes. She grabbed her skirt and sprinted for the door, but not before he’d seen her horror-filled expression. Damn it.

  “Um...” Mark fumbled with his thoughts before rapid-fire finishing, “But they need donations to be able to continue encouraging young women, so please be generous.”

  He thrust the mic in Ed’s hand and darted around the dinner tables. Ignoring Ed’s comments and the applause, Mark jogged to the doors and rushed through them. A quick glance left and then right showed an empty lobby. Bathroom or parking lot? Beyond the tall cream curtains, he glimpsed a shot of black moving through the glass breezeway.

  Mark spotted a shortcut through the formal gardens. He pushed through the glass doors and burst out into the cold, dark garden. A shadow hurried along the stucco wall. He ran down the flagstaff walk. “Skye.”

  Skye ran through the iron gate. Mark dashed around the short hedge and ran through the arched doorway as Skye rounded the courtyard fountain. “Skylar, wait!”

  Without looking back, Skye hitched up her skirt, but high heels and cobblestone encumbered her escape. She was going to twist an ankle running like that. Mark grabbed a bare arm and tugged her to a stop between the bronze lion sentinels. “Wait. Please.”

  “Let go,” Skye’s voice was thick with unshed tears, her face a mask of pain. Her chest rose and fell deeply with each breath. The lighted fountain behind him splashed, constant, noisy, mocking, as if emphasizing the thousands of invisible tears draining her heart.
Pain and tears he’d caused.

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you,” Mark said.

  Arms tightly wrapped around her bare arms, Skye whirled on him. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Ya think?”

  Mark shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, then tried to draw her close to his chest so he wouldn’t have to look at the hurt and betrayal distorting her sweet face, but she pulled away.

  “I’m sorry.” He held his arms out.

  Skye held his gaze as if building an invisible shield that would protect her from him while she eased backward, putting first inches and then feet between them.

  Mark wanted to grab her to keep her from running again but sensed that would do more harm than good. He held a hand out to her. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

  Skye glanced at his hand as if afraid to take her eyes off him. What’d she think he was going to do?

  Mark took a step forward. “I was going to tell you. I... It was never the right time. I didn’t know what to say.”

  She froze. Anger blazed through her narrowed eyes and she took a step toward him. “How about, ‘Ha, ha the joke’s on you, Skye?’ What, was this a stupid bet or something? See how long it takes to get the pain-in-the-ass reporter into bed? How much did you lose?” She fumbled through her purse. “I only have a twenty, but surely I’m worth more than that.” Skye crushed the bill in her fist and pitched it at him. “This’ll have to do.”

  The bill bounced off his chest and fell to the cobblestone. Skye thought she was the victim of some cruel adolescent joke? Mark spoke in a soft soothing voice as he slowly moved closer. “There’s no bet. Ed didn’t know about you until tonight either.”

  Skye dashed tears from her eyes and looked at him, beseeching. “Then why? Why would you do that to me?”

  “God, you’re breaking my heart.” Mark grabbed her stiff body and gathered her into his arms. He pulled her head to his chest over his thudding heart. He closed his eyes and pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” He rubbed her back, trying to infuse some heat into her, as if physical warmth would engender emotional warmth and forgiveness. “I saw you on TV at that press conference at the airport. You were so passionate and angry. Then Ed told me how you’d been bugging him with your articles. Most women adore Ed; I was curious about the one who didn’t. That guy hitting on you gave me the perfect opening—so I took it.”

  “You made a fool of me.”

  The hurt in her muffled words squeezed his heart. “I didn’t.” He shook his head. “I never thought that. I just couldn’t take the chance that you’d walk away before we got to know each other. And then, I couldn’t find a way to tell you.”

  Skye drew back, frowning. She swiped the tears from under her eyes. “You really expect me to believe that?”

  “It’s true.”

  “I told you about Niki.” Skye’s eyes widened and she pulled away. “So that’s why you wanted me to get to know the senator. You’re just trying to make life easier for your pal.”

  “Guilty there.” Mark took her chilled hands in his, allowing her some space but needing to hold her. “Edward’s my best friend. He’s a good man. But how could I have told you after I knew why you resented him? Knowing about Niki only made it harder because I understood your blaming him. But I hoped that once you knew a little more about Ed, you’d see that he does a lot of good in other ways. He’s really a good guy, Skye.”

  Skye took a step backward. Refusing to look at him, she tugged on her hands. “I have to go.”

  Slowly, Mark opened his grasp. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No.” She spun around and put a hand on his chest. “You need to go back.”

  “They don’t need me.”

  Skye turned, shrugged out of his jacket and let it fall to the cobblestone. “Neither do I.”

  Chapter 12

  Thanksgiving morning, Skye slipped into her favorite pair of worn jeans and a warm cotton sweater. She considered boots, then abandoned them for sneakers. She wanted no memories of Mark today. Skye collected her winter coat from the closet, slid her hand through the handles of a Macy’s shopping bag, and headed for her car. She parked down a residential side street across from the little cemetery on Moross Road. Taking the soft brown teddy bear from the bag, Skye crossed the street and entered the quiet graveyard.

  She strolled down the familiar path. Stones crunched under her feet as she made her way around barren towering oaks, past dozens of tombstones to the small white marble headstone that marked Niki’s resting place. She crossed her legs and folded down to sit on the cold grass. Sighing, Skye crushed the teddy bear against her aching chest, then lifted her face to the crisp breeze that held more than a hint of winter’s bite.

  “Hey, kiddo. I miss you so much.”

  Brown, limp flowers slumped over the sides of the plastic vase embedded in the ground in front of Niki’s headstone. Next time she’d bring her bright silk flowers that would last through the cold winter—perhaps pansies. Pansies were happy flowers.

  A gray squirrel scrambled headfirst down a nearby tree. In brief bursts, he galloped near, never taking his eyes from Skye, as if hoping she’d brought him a treat, too. “Sorry, buddy. I’m all out.”

  As if he understood, the ground squirrel twitched his tail twice, and then scampered off to see what goodie he could uncover in a pile of leaves.

  “It’s Thanksgiving today, and right now I’m having a little trouble mustering up any feelings of gratitude.” Skye bowed her head. “Though we miss you every day, I guess I’m grateful you’re not hurting anymore. I have to believe you’re happy and free of pain in heaven.

  “You have lots of friends. You jump rope, jump on the trampoline, play baseball, basketball—even soccer for hours on end without running out of breath, and Grandma and Grandpa love you to distraction.”

  Skye bit her lower lip, thinking about the turmoil of her love life. She cuddled the soft bear closer. “Actually, you might be the lucky one. Life’s hard.” Skye eased her chin down on the top of the bear’s head. “It just is.”

  The sound of crunching leaves behind her left Skye conflicted; she wanted to be alone and hoped if she ignored the person he’d leave her in peace—yet strong self-preservation instincts shouted in alarm. Skye glanced over her shoulder and relaxed as Peter’s familiar figure neared.

  He smiled and squatted. “Thought I might run into you here.”

  She shrugged. “It’s a good place to think.”

  Peter settled down. With his back supported by Niki’s headstone, he faced her, as comfortable as if they sat on the carpeted family room floor in front of a crackling fire. “What’s on your mind?”

  Skye forced a smile to her lips. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  He nodded. “What’s the matter?”

  Skye didn’t want to burden Peter with her problems. With his whole family in the hospital and bills quickly mounting, he had more than enough to worry about.

  “Does it have to do with the boyfriend?”

  Her head jerked up. “Faith told you about Mark?”

  He nodded. Picking up a leaf, Peter twisted the stem between his thumb and index finger, making the leaf twirl in his grasp. “She likes him.”

  “I did, too.”

  “Until...” Peter listened silently as Skye told him about the way Mark had duped her. He’d always been a great listener. Peter thought about what she’d said, and then looked at her. “Is he sorry?”

  Skye instantly nodded.

  “Don’t answer so quickly. Think about it.” Peter paused. “Do you really think he’s genuinely sorry?”

  Skye thought back through the past five days. Mark had called each day, leaving her messages ranging from apologies, to invitations, to chatty just-calling-to-make-sure-you’re-all right messages. He wasn’t giving up on her.

  “I think he believes he’s sorry, but he made a fool of me. We
were close.” Embarrassed, she ducked her head and didn’t look at her brother-in-law. “He lied.”

  “Everybody makes mistakes. How’d you feel this past week without him?”

  “Miserable.” Skye drew her knees up to her chest. “I miss him.” His laughter, his teasing, his love. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to be that pitiful woman who needs a man. But I do miss him.” She whispered the admission.

  “And if you forgive him, would your life be better or worse?”

  “I suppose it’d be better. But...”

  Peter moved his hand over his daughter’s headstone as if reading the inscription by Braille. Lord knew Peter had the message memorized. The text remained a permanent etched scar on his heart—just as it was on hers.

  Peter looked at Skye, his blue eyes so like Niki’s that she couldn’t look away. “Skye, so much happens in life that we have absolutely no control over, but this you do. Life’s too short to hold grudges, sweetheart.”

  “This isn’t a grudge.” ‘Grudge’ sounded so petty and small. Skye wasn’t a small person. She knew Peter’s advice was couched in the framework of their losing Niki, but they weren’t the same at all.

  “Other than this one time, has he been respectful toward you?”

  Skye thought about the way Mark always held doors open for her, warmed her when he thought she was cold, listened to her work/family problems, helped out with his godson, and made her laugh. Other than this major lie, she had to admit that Mark was almost too good to be true. She nodded.

  “All right then. This is really all about fear and power. You’re afraid that if you forgive him, you’ll be setting yourself up to get hurt again—yet you’re miserable without him.”

  Skye reluctantly nodded again, not caring for his assessment. She sounded like those pitiful women who wrote to Dear Darlene.

  “In reality, in refusing to forgive Mark, you’re giving him power over you. You’re choosing to be the victim here. You’re giving Mark the power to make you happy or to wound you. Power he may or may not even want, but still—you are gifting him that power.”

 

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