The Lives Between Us

by Theresa Rizzo

  “People love Ed. They feel for him. I’m not surprised.”

  Wow, Skye had to get a picture of this for her article. People adored the Hastingses. Surprisingly, they seemed to identify with them and share their pain. Hmm.

  Skye dropped Mark’s hand and burrowed under his arm, using the bulk of his body as a buffer from these strangers’ emotions, or protect her from the mishap that had crippled the Hastingses. She’d had enough pain in her life.

  Skye liked the way they fit together, whether intimately bonded or tucked under his arm, or simply holding hands. Though Mark was big, hard, and solid, she fit perfectly—like matching pieces to a puzzle. They’d missed their dinner reservations, so they decided to stop by the hospital for a short visit with Noelle and Edward on their way to get a slice of pizza at Buddy’s.

  Approaching Noelle’s room, they showed their drivers licenses to the security man guarding her private wing. They walked down the hallway, but then Mark stalled in front of the partially open door. Oblivious of their audience, Edward stood nose-to-nose with Jeff, staring at the boy whose face mirrored his father’s irritation.

  “You have to go home now. You have a full day of tutoring tomorrow.”

  “The tutor’s an idiot. I want to be with Mom.”

  “There’s nothing you can do for her. You can’t get behind in school.”

  “Why not? You stay with her. You even get to sleep here. Why can’t I?”

  Edward stood with his hands splayed on his hips. “Because you’re a kid and there isn’t enough room. This isn’t a hotel. Now get ready to go. I’ll walk you downstairs. Your grandfather’s waiting.”

  “When can Mom come home?”

  Edward sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Not for a while.”

  “A week or months?”

  “I don’t know. It could be weeks.”

  “When are you coming home?”

  Edward rubbed the back of his neck while frowning at his son, as if thinking of how to word his response. “Look, Jeff, this isn’t easy for any of us, and your arguing over every little thing doesn’t make it any easier. Can’t you just help out a little and do what we ask?”

  Jeff’s hands clenched into rebellious fists at his side as his face settled into a stubborn scowl. “What you ask. She doesn’t want me to go, do you, Mom?” Jeff moved closer to the side of Noelle’s bed.

  “Don’t drag her into this.”

  Too late. She was in the middle of it. Even from the doorway, Skye could see Noelle frowning at Edward. Then her head slowly rolled to the side, and she mouthed words at them. Pacifying words, Skye imagined. Because that’s what Noelle did—she was a master mediator between her husband and son.

  “You’re upsetting her. Kiss Mom goodbye, and you’ll see her tomorrow.” Ed took Jeff’s arm, watched him kiss Noelle’s cheek, then gently pulled him away. “Grandpa will bring you back tomorrow after tutoring.”

  Noelle’s lips puckered in a kiss.

  Skye squeezed Mark’s hand and pulled him back away from the doorway. She didn’t want to get caught standing there like intrusive peeping Toms. Mark put a hand at Skye’s back and shoved her into the room. Together they went straight to Noelle.

  “Well, look at you.” Mark kissed Noelle’s cheek. “Sleeping beauty awakes, and you can move your head.” He raised his eyebrows. “I’m impressed. Way to go, lady.”

  Without the screws and metal brace circling her head, Noelle looked a little less fragile. Skye moved closer and smiled encouragingly at Noelle, hoping to distract her from the male tension. “Congratulations. I bet your head feels so much lighter now.”

  Noelle, lying flat on her back, smiled, but her eyes held worry. How could she not be upset with husband and son battling and her not able to referee?

  “How about we keep you company while Ed sees Jeff off?” Mark suggested.

  Noelle inclined her head, in a brief nod. Edward mumbled that he’d be right back, and with a firm hand on his son’s shoulder, turned him and urged him out the door.

  “So your dad’s helping out with Jeff?”

  Noelle nodded.

  “Interesting.”

  “Why is that interesting?” Skye asked.

  “’Cause Ed and Noelle’s dad don’t exactly get along. No wonder he’s sleeping here.” He turned to Noelle. “Not that he wouldn’t want to be near you.”

  A smile curved her lips, amused at Mark’s backpedaling.

  “So what’re you guys scheming now?” Edward asked as he returned. “Whenever she has that grin on her face, those two are plotting something,” he told Skye.

  Edward looked thinner. Deep lines creased his forehead and cheeks, and Skye found his forced cheerfulness uncomfortable. She knew he was skilled at hiding his feelings—she’d observed it often—yet not tonight. The fact that he even tried to pretend around Noelle—his wife who knew him so well—was as ridiculous as it was heartrending.

  “We’re not plotting anything. Stop being so paranoid,” Mark said. “What’s that all about?”

  Edward turned until his back faced Noelle, so she couldn’t read the concern and exhaustion laid out on his face. “Jeff’s having a bit of trouble dealing with the situation.” He spoke over his shoulder to Noelle. “But I’m taking care of it.”

  “Looks like it,” Mark said.

  “He’s fine. I’m handling it.”

  Jeff wasn’t fine, and Edward might be handling it, but not well.

  Edward sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He stared at Skye in warning. “Not a word.”

  Again? Geeze. How many times was he going to remind her? She nodded.

  “Jeff feels responsible for Noelle’s accident. While I can understand his guilt, I don’t know how to convince him it was a mistake—we all did dumb things as kids, and we got through it. We’ll get through this, too. The psychologist says to keep reassuring him, but it doesn’t seem to be working. He gets more combative every day.

  “Well, the kid’s right. If he hadn’t taken off out of bounds, Noelle wouldn’t have gone in after him.” Mark’s harshness surprised Skye, but not enough that she missed what he’d revealed. Noelle got hurt saving Jeff? Skye kept her expression neutral. Wow, that’d make great copy.

  “It’s over. He’s beaten himself up enough. Joseph says he’s not sleeping at night, and he found Jeff’s skis snapped in half—he’s learned his lesson.”

  “Costly lesson,” Skye noted.

  Edward glanced at her and nodded. “He needs to get back to school and keep busy. He spends hours every day reading to her—even while she sleeps. Obsessing at Noelle’s bedside isn’t doing Jeff any good.”

  Skye wanted to disagree. A certain amount of obsessing was good. Natural—even necessary. When she made big mistakes, the only thing to make her feel better was to atone for it. But how could Jeff possibly make up for this? That’s a heavy load of guilt for anyone—let alone a fourteen-year-old kid.

  Hmm... Interviewing Jeff would be an amazing angle to this story. She peeked at Jeff’s protective father. Not going to happen.

  “Don’t worry about it, we’ll think of something to help him. Besides, kids are pretty resilient.” Mark moved closer to Noelle’s bedside. “So you’re doing okay? The surgery went fine? I know you’re gonna miss your metal head gear.” He leaned close and squinted at her head where the screws had been. “Now that there’s nothing plugging those holes in your head...”

  “Shut up, Mark.” Skye didn’t wait hear to what disgusting quip Mark was about to utter. She smiled at Noelle. “Nice new mattress.”

  The mattress inflated one side, thus easing Noelle onto the opposite side, then after a little while, it deflated that side and inflated the other side, effectively turning her.

  Noelle smiled and nodded.

  “It helps prevent bed sores.” Edward said. “And tomorrow Noelle starts speech therapy to learn to talk with the vent.”

  “That’s great. No more having these monkeys guessing
what you want—you can simply tell them.”

  That garnered another nod from Noelle.

  “So you think she’ll be here another few weeks?” Skye asked.

  “Not here. It’s looking like she’ll graduate to a rehab place where they specialize in spinal injuries. They have all kinds of new technology and gizmos to help Noelle in the day-to-day stuff until she’s better,” Edward said.

  Skye mentally winced at his choice of words. “Graduating” sounded an awful lot like Niki’s being “upgraded” to class four heart failure—some upgrade. Were they sending Noelle to rehab because the doctors felt they’d done all they could for her, and this was as good as she’d get, or could patients with these types of injuries continue to improve under specialized care? Was there any real hope that Noelle might sit up again, let alone walk?

  “So the surgery went well. When will they know how much movement she may recover?” Mark asked.

  “They have to wait for the swelling to abate. Nothing will be final until sometime next week at the earliest. But we’re pretty hopeful.” Edward smiled and gently patted Noelle’s shoulder. “Aren’t we, honey?”

  Noelle nodded sleepily. Her eyes drifted shut.

  “She gets a little better each day. She can turn her head from side to side—that’s huge. Hopefully, she’ll recover far enough so she can breathe on her own. That’s our next big milestone. Right, sweetheart?”

  Edward seemed to need to stay closer to Noelle than he had in past visits. He touched her face and hair a lot. Skye wondered if that was because Noelle was more cognizant this time or because Edward was scared silly and he wasn’t nearly as optimistic as he sounded.

  “Not to bug you, but have you guys decided about the regenerative therapy?” Mark asked.

  “You mean using your donated cells to grow neurons to transplant,” Edward clarified.

  “It’s still experimental, but they’ve had some remarkable results. It’s a good option.” He reached a hand out. “Just talk to Eileen again.”

  “We will if it comes to that, but there’s a less risky program started in Israel. A Denver hospital does it now, too. We’re hoping to get her into it.”

  “Really?” Mark brightened.

  Edward began slowly, as if hesitant to share the information with them. “It’s an experimental, FDA-approved trial in Denver that Noelle borderline qualifies for. It was pioneered in Israel and seems to have less potential for complications and adverse reactions than stem cell transplants.”

  “What’s involved?”

  A brunette nurse breezed in the room. “Excuse me. It’s time to get Noelle ready for bed.”

  “Okay, thanks, Sally.” Edward moved to Noelle and rubbed her shoulder. “We’ll be back in a little bit, honey.”

  “Not us. We’ve gotta get some dinner.” Mark leaned close to Noelle to kiss her cheek. A microburst of frustration and horror flickered across Mark’s face at the tears wetting Noelle’s eyes, before he masked it with a false smile and chiding look. “Naw, don’t cry. I’ll stop by tomorrow to visit. I’ll even bring you a surprise. Just wait and see; you’ll love it,” he promised, then sent Edward a pleading look as the tears trickled down Noelle’s cheeks.

  “Be back, sweetheart,” Edward said, gripping Mark’s shoulder in a tight grasp.

  Mark’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he struggled with Noelle’s distress, then a hardness glittered in his brown eyes, and he allowed Edward to push him from the room. Skye followed, almost beating them through the door in her haste to run away from everybody’s raw emotions.

  “What was that all about?” Mark asked, swinging an arm wide toward Noelle’s room.

  Edward kept walking. “Noelle hates this bedtime ritual—more than everything else, I think.”

  “Why? What the hell do they do to her?”

  They followed Edward past more guards, into an empty alcove. Ignoring the clusters of cloth chairs, they stood together forming a close triangle, waiting for Edward to continue.

  “Nothing sadistic. They give her her medication. Bathe her. Do about a half hour of stretching and flexing her arms and legs. Then they put splints on her legs to prevent foot drop and on her arms to keep her fingers from clenching into fists. She hates the bowel program the most.

  “Because she’s paralyzed, her bowels don’t work on their own, so they have to push it out of her every night—if it doesn’t come spontaneously. I always leave. Though the staff is kind and professional, it’s got to be totally humiliating for her.

  “The psychiatrist we both see was emphatic that for the good of our marriage—for both of us—I don’t try to take over any of her nursing care. Which works for me.” He dropped his gaze and shook his head. “I don’t think I could handle it.”

  Skye didn’t know what to say. It was so much to take in.

  “So what about this new treatment?” Mark asked.

  Edward pulled a chair close to two others in a corner and they sat. “It’s called Autologous Activated Macrophage Therapy.” He edged forward in his seat, eager to explain their new hope for recovery. “You use the patient’s own white blood cells to regenerate the severed nerves in the spinal cord. There aren’t many white blood cells in the central nervous system. So they take them from the bone marrow and put them with wounded tissue, educating them. Then they take the more experienced, mature white blood cells, and the neurosurgeon injects them into the spinal cord. And that’s about it. Pretty simple and not very invasive.”

  “It sounds great, but how does it regenerate the nerves?”

  “It doesn’t. It just provides an optimal environment to encourage the nerves to regenerate.”

  “Sounds awesome. When do you leave?”

  “After Noelle’s weaned from the vent. There’s one other catch; she has to have the procedure in the next week. They aspirated the bone marrow today so they could start growing the white blood cells, but she has to get off that damn vent. There’s only a fourteen day window of opportunity for this procedure.”

  One week to get off the vent?

  “Is that even realistic?” Skye asked softly.

  Edward took a deep breath, leaned back in his seat, and looked at her through worried eyes. “It’s possible.”

  Possible—but not probable—hung in the air.

  “After having talked to Dr. Abad, that time frame is slightly flexible—but not very. Under normal circumstances, they wouldn’t even consider admitting a patient to the program with an injury at the C5 level and higher,” Edward admitted.

  “But you used your status to gain you a little leeway,” Mark said.

  “I pointed out that successful treatment of a United States Senator’s wife would probably lend them a lot of free publicity and credibility to their efforts,” Edward conceded. “So after they reviewed Noelle’s records, they agreed to stretch their inclusion criteria a bit—if she could be weaned off the vent in time.”

  “Geez, no pressure there,” Skye mumbled.

  Edward shrugged. “It’s all pressure.”

  “I guess.”

  “Why don’t you let us start growing the stem cells in the meantime, just in case it doesn’t work, or in case she can’t get off the vent?” Mark surprised Skye by suggesting. She couldn't believe he was pushing. “Let us be your back up plan. It takes weeks to grow the neurons. The more mature they are before transplantation, the better we can be sure that they won’t develop tumors.”

  Edward got a stubborn look in his eyes. “I just don’t like taking someone else’s cells. And Noelle refused to use Jeff’s if he was a match; I doubt she’d use anybody else’s. You should have consulted us before asking.”

  “If there was an established ESC line that was compatible, would you consider using it?” Skye asked.

  Edward’s eyes turned hard. “No.”

  “But it’s already established. You wouldn’t be taking a life. The decision was made long ago by someone else.”

  Edward’s jaw clenched. “It’d be approving embr
yonic stem cells. I’d be a hypocrite.”

  “But it could help your wife regain some quality of life.”

  “At the cost of another. Noelle would never consider it.”

  Noelle wouldn’t consider it, but would he? Skye frowned at him. “Are you worried people would condemn you for using any kind of stem cells? Is that why you’re resisting?”

  “No, I’m confident people know the difference between the various stem cells. I’d just prefer to not have to explain things more than necessary.”

  He was worried. Edward claimed voters were smart enough to know the difference, but when it really counted, Skye didn’t think he really believed it.

  “The cells we’re offering are cord blood, so there’s no conflict, and they’re willing to give them to you. They’re happy to help.”

  “Only because you asked.” Edward frowned. “They had them saved for their child. They’ve paid to store them all this time. Why would they give them to a stranger? I’m not even sure it’s ethical that you asked. Do they know who they’d be going to?”

  At first Skye didn’t understand why Edward wasn’t jumping at the chance, but then she realized how messy it could get. Being a senator, Edward’s every move was open to judgment, and he had to be extra careful.

  Mark frowned. “No, of course not. And Eileen asked before she told me. She said they’ve often lagged in their payments, and she thinks they’d be relieved to be rid of the cells.”

  “What’d you offer them?”

  “We haven’t gotten that far, but I think they’d be happy to recoup their out-of-pocket expense. Four thousand dollars.”

  “That’s it? Don’t you think they deserve a little more for abandoning their child’s life insurance? Then again, giving them more could be construed as a bribe.” Edward raked his hand through his hair. “It’s risky. God, this just feels like a potential disaster.”

  “Jesus Christ, how stubborn can you be?” Mark jumped to his feet, exploding. “Your wife is completely helpless in there.” His arm swung wide, and he punched the air toward her room. “She’s suffering so much—and this is just the beginning, my friend. She can’t even breathe on her own. Isn’t a little risk worth any improvement in her condition?”