“And what?” Edward shrugged and frowned. “Why does there have to be more? Why can’t it be that simple?” He paused several seconds then sighed. “Okay, here it is: I’m too lazy to get involved with another woman. It’d take tremendous energy and stamina to hide an affair and to satisfy two women.” He shrugged, “I’m just not that young anymore.”
Skye sat still, watching and waiting for the truth. She wasn’t going to let him joke his way out of this answer.
Edward looked away and shifted in his seat. Head tilted, he turned back to her and pushed out a breath. “Look, I admire my wife too much to hurt her that way. We’re both extremely loyal people who respect the vows we made.”
Skye nodded as she pawed through her attaché case. She looked at Mark. “I’ve got a nasty headache. I have some aspirin in my purse, but I left it in the car. Would you mind getting it for me?”
“Sure.”
As soon as Mark left the room, Skye looked at Edward and tilted her head. “You know I’ve been trying to figure you out. You don’t always vote the party line—you’re a thorough person who takes his job seriously—you do your homework before you vote and make up your own mind. I doubt you make too many decisions based on political pressure, either. Yet your pro-life stance is so absolute.” She frowned. “It doesn’t make sense.
“Your respect for life goes deeper than teachings of the Catholic church. You’re not one to blindly follow any edict from the Pope. And now that I know about Noelle’s miscarriages, it makes a little more sense.”
“Don’t make more out of it than it is. It’s our moral right to protect innocents who can’t protect themselves. You have to choose a point at which to define a life and it has to be an absolute. It’s that simple. For me, it’s at the time of conception.”
“Yet, somehow, I think it’s more than that.” She paused. “In fact, I’m certain that it’s more than that.”
Edward looked at her, curious.
“And then there’s gun control. You have the support of the NRA, yet you don’t always vote the party line. You’re not pro guns just because you’re fanatical about protecting second amendment rights, are you?
“Ten thousand children are injured or killed by guns each year. Firearms are one of the top three causes of death among children—killing twice as many as cancer does. I find it hard to believe that you’re willing to put a persons’ right to bear arms above the urgent need to protect our children. Yet you voted against a bill that would’ve expanded background checks—”
“What’re you getting at, Skye?”
“Mark told me you’re a good man and that I should get to know you better, so I did.”
Edward raised his eyebrows.
“I know you were born in Indianapolis, and your mother changed your name when she divorced your father and moved you to Grosse Pointe. I know about your father.”
“Changing names after a divorce isn’t unusual, and it’s hardly a secret that my father was an alcoholic.”
“And abusive.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I know about that night. When you were twelve and your life imploded.”
Edward quieted. “Whatever you think you know is totally irrelevant to my career and this interview.”
“I beg to differ. What happened that night molded the man you are today. Having a gun in the house that night probably saved your mother’s life.”
Edward opened his mouth.
Mark entered. “I couldn’t find your purse, but Ben gave me—” He lifted a bottle of Tylenol, then slowed his pace as he sensed the tension between them. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. We’re just wrapping up,” Edward said, traces of irritation gone.
Mark studied Skye carefully as he crossed the room and handed her the bottle. She smiled warmly. “Thank you.”
She concentrated on shaking out two pills and washing them down with her soda.
Ben poked his head in the study door. “Excuse me, Senator. You have a phone call you need to take.” His pale face made his wide-eyed glance look almost panicked, despite his calm delivery.
Edward looked over his shoulder. “In a minute. We’re just finishing up here.”
“It can’t wait.”
Edward got to his feet and left the room. “Excuse me.”
Mark turned to Skye as soon as the door closed behind Edward. “It’s going pretty well, don’t you think? You’ve got lots to put in your article.”
“I guess so.” Material that her female audience would go crazy over, but nothing to give her a legitimate reason to reveal his secret. Where should she go from here? What would Jenny do?
It wasn’t more than a few minutes before a frowning Edward rushed back in the room. Pivoting, he went to the open door, calling out, “Ben, on second thought, call Matheson and have him meet me at Young in a half an hour. I’ll need him to bring the jet home.”
With quick flicks of his wrist, Edward rolled his sleeves down and grabbed his jacket. He went to his desk and snatched up his keys.
“What’s up?” Mark stood.
Edward’s head swung toward them, as if surprised they were there.
“What happened?” Mark rose and took a few steps forward.
Edward’s hand covered his mouth, then dropped as if wiping away a bad taste. “Noelle was in an accident.”
“What kind of an accident? Is she okay? What about Jeff?”
“Skiing.” Raising stricken eyes, Edward whispered. “Jesus, Mark, she can’t move.”
Chapter 19
Jeff stood at Detroit’s Coleman Young International Airport beside his father, watching the ambulance pull away with his mom. He looked around the vacant airstrip, relieved that, for once, there were no reporters stalking them. He peered at his dad, whose watchful gaze never left his mom, even after she entered the ambulance.
Dad had walked beside her gurney to the ambulance, smiling this fake smile, acting as if everything would be all right, but Jeff saw his hand shake as he stroked Mom’s cheek. It wasn’t going to be okay. Dad was pretending. He was scared, too.
As the ambulance turned the corner, Dad blew out a deep breath and turned to him. “Ready to go?”
Despite his resolve, Jeff hung his head, and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as he squeezed them shut. He couldn’t make his feet move. Dad pulled him to his side, but he resisted the temptation to bury his face in the wool coat like he did when he was a little kid. He didn’t deserve that luxury.
“It’s all my fault. Why’d she do it?” he blubbered like a little kid.
Dad patted him on the back and urged him toward the waiting car. He climbed in the backseat with him, while Ben drove. Ben only drove when Dad had work to do. Jeff sniffled and scrubbed the tears from his face, suddenly fighting off conflicting emotions. For the first time since he was a kid, he felt important.
He turned toward the tinted windows, too ashamed to look at his father. He wished he could just disappear into the car seat, evaporating into nothingness to hide his humiliation. Dad probably hated him for what he’d done to Mom.
Instead of putting on his seatbelt, Dad hugged him close. Jeff resisted for a moment, then slouched and dropped his head against his father’s shoulder. His soft camel-hair coat rubbed against Jeff’s cheek as Dad’s chest expanded and then dropped—over and over again. Jeff looked up, worried by his father’s irregular breathing and the tears shimmering in his red eyes. His stomach turned sour and clenched. Dad never cried—not since Grandma Myra died.
“Is Mom going to die?” Jeff forced the words through the lump in his throat.
Dad shook his head. “No.” He cleared his throat. “No. She is not going to die. We’re going to get her the best doctors, and she’ll be fine.”
Dad pulled away from him to get a better look at his face. Out of the corner of Jeff’s left eye he saw his stare, he felt his concern, but Jeff still couldn’t look at him. He scowled harder at the car floor.
“Not your fault, Jeff. It w
as an accident.”
Jeff frowned so hard that it felt like he had tape stretched tight across his forehead holding the skin together. “It was my fault. She followed me out of bounds and flew into a tree.”
“What? Tell me exactly what happened.”
I just told you. Jeff rubbed his eyes with his sleeve and then swallowed hard against the lump in his throat choking him. He blew out a breath through his mouth, unable to breath through his nose.
“We were on Upper Powderhorn. There was this great, fresh powder. It didn’t look dangerous—like the bottom of the Big Burn, only steeper—but it was out of bounds. Mom told me not to go, but it was too good to pass up.”
“Did you run into Mom?”
He glared at his father. He wasn’t that stupid. “No. I took off through the trees and was doing great, but then I hit a dirt patch or something and just stopped dead. Mom swerved to avoid hitting me and went over this steep drop. She cleared the rocks, but she sat down on the landing and rolled into some trees.” He saw the anguish on his father’s face through his tears and looked away. “She makes me wear a helmet, why wasn’t she?”
Dad’s hand on his shoulder clenched in a painful vise grip. “A helmet wouldn’t have helped in this instance, son.”
He and Noelle often skied through trees and flew off any little jump they could find, but never out of bounds. Why the hell had she followed Jeff out of bounds? Because she didn’t want Jeff to get hurt and…she knew what it’d look like for a senator’s kid to be caught breaking the rules. Shit.
Heart heavy, Edward wanted to yell at his son for being so stupid, but he’d done plenty of dumb things as a kid. And Noelle was just being Noelle. She would have done whatever it took to protect her family. He rubbed his son’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Mistakes happen.”
“It’s not okay.”
“We’ll make it okay.”
“But she’s so hurt,” he whispered.
“I know.” Edward had never been so frightened in his life as when he’d seen Noelle laid out on that stretcher. She’d been so pale, and though they’d put a neck brace on her and had taped her head still, it’d been terrifying seeing Noelle move only her wide brown eyes from side to side, especially knowing that that was all she could move.
A crinkled white tube connected to a plastic piece disappeared into gauze at Noelle’s neck below her neck brace. It was connected to a machine at the other end about the size of his car’s battery. She’d had trouble breathing in flight, and they’d had to put her on a ventilator to keep her alive.
She couldn’t even breathe on her own. Edward blinked back tears.
“What’re we going to do?” Jeff asked in a small voice.
Edward shook his head. This time he didn’t have all the answers—hell, he didn’t have any answers. “I don’t know.”
Edward clung to his son, taking comfort in his warmth and bulk. They’d do what they had to do.
When they pulled up outside the back of the hospital, Edward put a hand on Jeff’s knee. “Wait here a minute.”
He got out, shut the door, and met Ben at the back of the car. Edward moved close and lowered his voice. “Whatever happens, I want the details of this accident buried so deep nobody besides Noelle and Jeff ever knows what really happened on that slope.” He stared into Ben’s serious blue eyes. “You get me? If there’s a ski patrol report, it needs to disappear. Immediately. Air ambulance report? Gone.” He pointed at the car. “That boy is suffering enough without the world knowing Noelle was nearly killed trying to keep him out of trouble.”
“But she’s a hero. It’s amazing press.”
“Screw the press.” Edward jabbed at the car. “That’s my son. So help me, if word of this leaks out...” He took a deep breath and pursed his lips to bite back the threat. Several seconds later he continued in a calm, measured voice. “My wife was hurt in a skiing accident. Period. Am I clear?” Edward pinned Ben with an uncompromising, unwavering look.
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay.” He knocked twice on the top of the car and opened the door for Jeff. “Let’s go.”
Edward walked through the hospital’s service entrance with his usual confident, controlled stride. With Jeff anchored to his right and Ben flanking his left, they were met by the hospital administrator and she escorted them to Noelle’s private room in ICU. Noelle was off getting tests, giving Edward time to pore over the large file of information his staff had hastily compiled on the cutting-edge treatment for spinal cord injuries.
Edward called Joseph to pick up Jeff and was relieved that his father-in-law had been able to rearrange his schedule to care for his grandson. Edward was uncharacteristically obstructive with the press over the next few days. He had Ben refuse all interviews and phone calls, devoting every waking hour to reading about spinal cord injuries and potential treatments. The only people allowed in and out of Noelle’s room, besides medical personnel, were his son, Joseph, Mark, and Ben. The others could wait.
Edward turned back to the printouts, discouraged. There was so much to learn. Methylprednisone, morphine, blood pressure, oxygen saturation levels, infection and pneumonia worries, suctioning, complete and incomplete breaks…the list seemed never-ending.
Mark leaned around the doorway. “Hey, how’s she doing?”
“Okay.” Edward tried to sound optimistic in case Noelle had awakened. “Come in and see for yourself.”
Mark hesitated. “I’ll come back later. Skye’s with me. We’re kangarooing the twins and I wanted to check on Noelle before we went to dinner.”
Edward appreciated that Mark kept Skye out of the room to protect their privacy. Skye’s insinuations at the end of her interview made Edward wary. Skye was his best friend’s girlfriend, and important to Mark, yet...
He wasn’t clear on exactly what Skye thought she knew about his past, but his wife liked her. Both she and Mark couldn’t be wrong, so he’d have to trust their instincts. A visit with the effervescent Skye might raise Noelle’s spirits. Maybe interaction with a female who wasn’t caring for her would be good for her.
Edward tossed down the article he was reading and waved his friend in. “Visit awhile.” He could use a distraction, too.
With his arm stretched out behind him, Mark pulled Skye into the room. She smiled brightly. “Hi, Edward. How’s it going?”
“Okay. Skye, look, I hate to say this, but I have to.” He held her gaze. “Anytime you set foot in this room, you are a friend of the family—not a reporter. Can you do that?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
Edward pursed his lips. “Good.”
Skye mentally slapped herself. How’s it going? His wife is paralyzed and on a ventilator. How do you think it’s going, idiot?
Skye moved past Edward into the room. After the way their interview ended, she’s shocked he’d even allowed her in. She glanced at Mark to see if he noticed any awkwardness, but his attention was focused on Edward.
Skye inched closer to the foot of the bed. She wished they’d stopped at the gift shop to pick up a colorful flower arrangement. It felt strange visiting someone in the hospital empty-handed.
Her gaze centered on the profusion of flowers lining the windowsill. Then again maybe chocolates or a stuffed animal would have been a better choice. After a quick smile and hi to Noelle, Skye kept her eyes trained on the flowers so she wouldn’t gawk at her.
She’d grown used to the machines, wires, alarms and tubes in the NICU, but all of that sized up for a full-grown woman seemed even more intimidating. Noelle, lying flat on her back, with all the braces, tubes, IVs, and sheets covering her body, seemed to shrink in the busy bed. A metal headband screwed into her skull was attached to weights at the head of her bed. Yow—how could that not hurt?
Skye’s glance dropped to the side of the bed and the large plastic bag hanging from the railing, collecting amber-colored urine. She quickly averted her eyes to look at Noelle’s face. It was weird visiting someone who couldn’t communicate
.
How did one visit with them? Skye guessed you talked to them and they had to listen—but that was a monologue, not a conversation. She avoided moving closer to the bed, into Noelle’s range of vision. Anxious about telegraphing her nervousness and pity, Skye sat in the chair Edward vacated and divided her attention between Mark and Edward’s conversation and Noelle.
“She’s doing as well as can be expected. The specialist says that she got great immediate care. The ski patrol and Aspen doctors did everything right. Since then, they’ve managed to reduce the swelling and contain the damage to the C4-C5 region with the Methylprednisolone.” He looked at Noelle. “But she can’t breathe without the ventilator.”
Mark lowered his voice, as if keeping a secret. “Is that permanent?”
“Hopefully not.”
“So.” Mark moved closer and Skye strained to hear his question. “What’re you going to do?”
Edward blew out a deep breath and wound his hand around back of his neck, massaging. When he looked up, the brightness in his eyes tore at her heart. Right after Niki died, Skye prayed for this man and others like him blocking stem cell research to know her pain, but that didn’t mean she wanted innocent bystanders involved in the retribution—she just wanted him to understand. His naked agony made Skye feel like an intruder. Pushing away the remorse, she looked away. Now he knew.
Edward pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. He moved with Mark to the doorway, out of Noelle’s limited range of vision but close enough that Edward could watch her every breath.
His ragged voice broke with emotion. “I don’t know what we’re going to do. I’m in a holding pattern right now. She’s pretty out of it. At least she’s not feeling any physical pain. With the ventilator, she can’t talk. She can’t write, so it’s pretty much a guessing game as to what she’s really feeling.
“She cried a little, but she moved her eyes back and forth when I asked her if she was in pain.” Edward’s shoulders slumped. “I feel so damn helpless. The most I can do is stroke her hair and talk to her. But what do I say?” He looked at Mark, as if hoping for suggestions. “Maybe it’s a good thing she sleeps so much.”
The Lives Between Us Page 22