The Lives Between Us

by Theresa Rizzo

  Noelle lay with snot oozing from her nose and tears dribbling from her eyes as two nurses cooed over her and wiped her eyes and nose. The nurses tried to soothe her, but it was useless; Noelle wouldn’t calm until she’d exhausted herself. He had the insane urge to go over there, shoo the nurses away, and pull Noelle onto his lap. He wanted to rock her like a little child and never let her go.

  “I’m sorry. We’ve retaped the connection, and we’ll watch her more carefully,” the resident said.

  “She can never be left alone.” Edward stared at his sobbing wife.

  “Isn’t she being discharged tomorrow?”

  Edward wanted to snarl at the doctor. It was obscene that they’d use the word ‘discharge’ in reference to his wife. Especially after what’d just happened. Discharge implied that a person was well enough to go home and fend for herself—or go home and die in the comfort of her home. Neither situation applied to his wife.

  “She’s going to Fisher Rehab.”

  “Fisher Rehab—that’s great. Wonderful people there. As for round-the-clock care? That’s something you’ll have to discuss with Noelle’s rehab coordinator at Fisher.”

  He stared at Noelle while the doctor mumbled something else before melting away. Edward knew he should have thanked him. He should have been more gracious. After all they weren’t responsible for the machine’s crappy design. But he didn’t feel thankful and couldn’t tear his gaze away from his quietly weeping wife.

  What should he say to her? What could he say? Edward wanted to promise to remove this terror from her life—but he couldn’t. She needed the damned machine to breathe.

  He approached the bed, and the nurses backed away to give him room. At the sight of her reddened eyes and tear-stained, ravaged face, Edward blinked back tears and gulped. Emotions swelled his throat, choking him, making it hard to breathe. Pushing out a deep breath, he swiped his wet eyes, cleared his throat, and hoped his voice wouldn’t fail.

  He snatched a tissue and blotted each of her eyes. “Rather dramatic way to get a guy’s attention, wouldn’t you say?”

  Noelle’s bloodshot eyes crinkled at his joke. He leaned close and kissed her quivering lips. Resting his forehead on her hot sweaty forehead, he dragged in a ragged breath.

  “Don’t do that again,” he ordered. “You scared me to death. I know you like the distinguished gray hair at my temples, but I’d rather get it the usual way, raising our child. If you don’t mind.”

  He backed away twelve inches, allowing her to read the love and sorrow in his eyes. “Seriously. You scared the hell out of me. I can’t take much more.” He took a deep breath and then another. “And I just don’t know what to do. When you get to Fisher, I’ll make sure you’re never left alone—but we can’t live that way for the rest of our lives.”

  Noelle mouthed the word Israel.

  The doctor told them together, had she not understood? Had Noelle thought he could use his status as a senator to change things, and he’d failed at that, too?

  “Honey, the Israel opportunity is gone, remember? You don’t fit the criteria.”

  “What now?” she mouthed.

  Edward took her hand. Even with it curved around the hard plastic splint and knowing that she couldn’t feel him, he needed the contact. Some familiar gesture of comfort.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted softly, feeling lost and like a failure. “Tomorrow you go to Fisher Rehab. I’ll be with you during the day, but I can’t spend nights. I’ll get you a private nurse—you won’t be alone. I think we’ll just have to see what they can offer.” He pointed an index finger at her. “Your job, young lady, is to do whatever they tell you, to get better, and to get off that damn machine so I don’t have to worry about you every minute of the day.”

  She nodded. Frowning in concentration, Noelle took several deep breaths in rhythm with the vent.

  “What,” she said in a rusty, hoarse voice that seemed like magic to him. She paused, waiting for another breath. “About you?” She hissed out and then smiled in triumph.

  Edward’s eyes grew wide and he grinned. “Girl, you been holding out on me?”

  She shook her head. “Just.” The machine hissed. “Practicing.”

  Noelle might not have mastered breathing independent of the vent, but hearing her voice soothed his jangled nerves better than the smoothest of scotches. Holy shit, she could talk. “Well, keep it up. Me? I’m going to take care of Jeff. Do some more research and see what remaining options we have.”

  “Be.” Hiss. “Patient.”

  He sighed. “I’m trying. But that kid would try even your patience.”

  “Teenager.” Hiss. “Stress.”

  “He’s a spoiled brat.” Edward relented at her glare. “Patience.” He sighed. “I know. I’m trying. I... There’s just this wall he’s erected, and I can’t seem to get around it.” And even if he knew how, Edward wasn’t sure he had the emotional or physical strength to get around it.

  Noelle’s face tightened. “Try.” Hiss. “Harder.” Hiss. “Can’t take.” Hiss. “The fight.”

  Me either. Edward kissed her forehead. “I will. I’ll try.” He brushed hair away from her face. “You know, pretty soon we’re going to have to make some big decisions here.”

  “Mark.” Hiss. “Cells.”

  “You want to try the stem cells?”

  She frowned. “No.” Hiss. “Embryo.”

  “Not embryonic cells—cord blood. Mark knows how we feel about embryos.”

  “No.” Hiss. “Jeff .” Hiss. “Blood.”

  “You don’t want to use Jeff’s cord blood?”

  Noelle frowned. “Never.” Hiss. “For him.” Hiss. “Promise.”

  “I promise.” Edward leaned close and stroked her face because that was the only thing he was sure she could feel. He put all his love into his expression and caress. “God, I love you.”

  Hiss. “Sure?”

  “Sure, I love you?”

  Noelle shook her head. “Maybe.” Hiss. “Should.” Hiss. “Let go.”

  Edward rapidly blinked away the tears stinging his eyes. She was asking him to let her die. Shit. He took a deep breath and stared at his fists clenched white in his lap.

  “Here’s the thing.” He swallowed hard, cleared his throat, and looked at her. “I love you more than anything in this world. But I’m a selfish bastard; I’ll take you any way I can. You’ve been taking care of me for years.

  “You made sure my clothes were immaculate, that we always had Honey Bunches of Oats and orange juice for breakfast, you met our son’s every need, and a million other things. Now.” He brushed the hair at her temples. “It’s my turn to take care of you, baby.

  “I know life’s hellacious for you right now. But I still want you, and Jeff still needs you. But we’re not the ones who have to be you.” Edward lowered his head and bit his lower lip to gather his courage. “So, it’s up to you. I will support whatever decision you make.”

  Though it will absolutely kill me to let you go.

  Struggling not to cowardly turn away from her searching look, Edward waited. The seconds seemed like hours before Noelle spoke.

  “Love you.” Hiss. “Too. But.” Hiss. “This.” Hiss. “Really sucks.”

  The breath rushed from his chest. Edward squeezed his eyes tightly shut and kissed the top of Noelle’s head. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

  Edward wanted to be her knight in shining armor. He used to be. But he couldn’t now, and it hurt so damned much.

  “It’s getting late. Is it all right if I just sit here with you awhile?” He kissed her forehead and eased onto the bed, one leg on, while the other hung off, propping him up.

  “Watch.” Hiss. “Leads.”

  Edward stroked her cheek and smiled, amazed that Noelle could joke so soon about the pop off. Then again, maybe she wasn’t kidding and had been warning him. It was hard to tell with that mechanical speech. Though Noelle’s voice was rusty from disuse, it was sweet music to his e
ars. It gave him hope.

  After half an hour, long after Noelle had fallen into an exhausted sleep, Edward got ready for bed but knew there’d be no sleep tonight for him. Every time he drifted off, he heard the shriek of her vent alarm, even through the soothing hum and hiss of the machine, and had to sit up and check for himself.

  Would he ever be able to sleep without the white noise of her vent at home?

  Chapter 26

  Skye drove to Faith’s. Maybe she’d be able to mooch lunch off them. Mrs. Holms had turned out to be a great cook, and Skye was getting tired of her own snatched meals of crackers and cheese or meals eaten behind the bar at work. She pulled into the driveway and parked next to the modest Cape Cod.

  Skye let herself in through the front door. “Anybody home?” she called out quietly in case the twins were sleeping,

  “Kitchen,” Faith said.

  Skye walked past Cole asleep in the rocking swing. Baby Hope lay snuggled in the playpen. Tiny gowns, cloth diapers, and T-shirts littered the kitchen table as Faith prepared to fold them. With his tie tucked into his dress shirt and his shoulder holster nesting his gun, Peter stood over the sink, finishing off a sandwich.

  “What’re you doing home?” Skye asked Peter.

  “Grabbing a bite.”

  “What’re you up to?” Faith asked as she folded a long baby gown that resembled a sack.

  “Moving.”

  “Moving?” Faith froze and gave her a sharp look. “Where to? How come?”

  Skye tossed a sheet of paper on the table. “That’s my new address. The McSwains have a small apartment over the bar they’ve decided to sell. Without the cost of a realtor’s fee, I got a real deal on it. My mortgage, with a little extra thrown in for the renovation, will only be a little more than my current rent, so I’ll have an investment.”

  “No realtor? How do you know it’s not a money pit?” Peter asked.

  Skye grabbed an orange from the fruit basket and began peeling. “I had it inspected by a licensed and certified building inspector.”

  “Good. That’s good. Can you really afford it?”

  Skye pulled the orange apart and leaned against the counter. “Yup. It’s not much now, but with a little renovation, it’ll be really cute. I sign the loan papers next week.” She put a hand on Faith’s arm. “Don’t worry. I can put off the apartment remodel until you don’t need Mrs. Holms any more. So we should be all set.” Skye looked from her stunned sister to her brother-in-law. “Right?”

  “Good for you, Squirt,” Peter said. “Gotta get back to work. Be home by seven, hon.” Peter kissed Faith and waved at Skye.

  “Bye.” Faith looked at her. “Skye, you’ve never wanted to own anything in your life.”

  “I know. Isn’t it cool?” She popped a sweet section of orange in her mouth.

  “Are you sure? This isn’t like getting a goldfish. It’s not going to die and disappear in a week. This is a real commitment.” Faith stared, and for once Skye didn’t feel like squirming. “You’re sure this will make you happy?”

  Skye understood Faith’s surprise. Faith was right; she’d never wanted to settle down long enough to own anything more than a car. Okay, so she leased the car, but that was sort of owning. Skye had always lived by the seat of her pants, always relied on her instincts to guide her, and her heart told her this was a good move.

  “Yeah. This feels right. The remodeling is kind of a fun adventure and a good investment.”

  “Since when have you started thinking in terms of investments?”

  Skye shrugged and grinned. “Must be growing up.”

  “I guess. Not to be a naysayer, but what if your job with the paper doesn’t work out?”

  “Then I’ll probably be set ’cause I’d make a lot more money working just about anywhere else. But it will. I’m almost done with Edward’s article, and that’s sure to impress Karen.”

  “So you’re going to write it?”

  She nodded. “Two, actually. The first will be from our interview—a sort of warmer-upper, and the follow up will be the meaty piece.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to throw the first stone?” Faith put the onesie she’d been folding down in the pile and eased into the chair at the table.

  “I’m not throwing any stones, I’m going to shine a light and build some bridges. I’m really excited.”

  “What’s Mark think about it?”

  Skye swallowed the orange slice and stared at her crossed feet. “Yeah. I haven’t exactly told him yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s probably not going to be too happy with me about it—at least at first.” That was putting it mildly.

  “And then?”

  “And then, I’m sure he’ll see the value in what I’ve done.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  She shrugged.

  Questioning wrinkles lined Faith’s forehead. “You’re sure this is what you want to do?”

  Skye knew Faith wasn’t just talking about buying the apartment. In writing the second article about Edward, she was testing her relationship with Mark—the first relationship that’d ever really mattered to her.

  Mark could very well drop Skye in a furious rage and never talk to her again, but she was betting he wouldn’t. It wasn’t really even very much of a gamble. Mark was a fair man. He was smart, and he loved her. Mark would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Skye would never hurt Noelle and Edward.

  She nodded. “Absolutely.”

  * * *

  Skye pushed back from her computer and stretched her tight, aching muscles. She’d spent the morning hammering out a rough draft of the Hastingses’ story. Ugly though it was, now at least she had something to work with. She had a real chance of making Karen’s Friday deadline.

  Scanning the pages, she pushed aside twinges of guilt at having revealed something she knew Edward would consider off the record. He was overly sensitive, and his judgment wasn’t the best these days.

  Skye peered out the window and checked her watch again. The flurries had stopped, and the sun came out—a rare occurrence in a Michigan winter and one that should be properly appreciated. It was such a nice afternoon that she decided to walk the two miles to McSwain’s.

  Skye grabbed hat and gloves and slipped her arms into her leather jacket before throwing her keys into her purse and heading out the door. She strolled down Kercheval through the village, loving the quaint area and the bustling afternoon crowd.

  Two women stood chatting outside Sanders Candy and Dessert Shop. Faith and Skye’s mom had taken them there after having their teeth cleaned. Mom and Faith had chocolate sundaes, but Skye had always favored butterscotch.

  A mom smiled at her toddler son pointing at the wooden train set monopolizing the Gymboree window display. Every Christmas, Niki had helped Pete circle the Christmas tree with his childhood train set. Skye wasn’t sure who’d enjoyed the tradition more, Nik or Pete. Next year maybe she could help him, seeing how the twins would still be too young.

  People crossed the street as the ornate iron clock suspended over the road bonged the hour. At the Starbucks on the corner, Skye spotted a familiar figure. Jeff Hastings stood talking to a big blond guy who looked vaguely familiar. They seemed about the same age, so this probably wasn’t his tutor. Should she ignore him and walk by or stop and say hello? Would it embarrass Jeff if she stopped?

  Skye crossed the street. Encouraged that Jeff’s eyes lit with recognition, she smiled. “Hi, Jeff.”

  “Hey.” He gestured to the other guy. “This is Todd Daniels. Todd, this is Ms. Kendall.”

  Skye shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. Are you two neighbors?”

  “We go to school together,” Jeff said.

  “And play hockey,” Todd added. “Hey man, I gotta go. See ya at practice.” He backed away. “Nice meeting you,” he called out to Skye.

  “You, too.” Skye watched the kid meld into the crowd, before turning back to Jeff. He stood with his jacke
t open, revealing khakis, a dress shirt, and tie. Jeff’s hair nearly concealed his eyebrows. He needed a haircut. “I didn’t mean to chase your friend away.”

  “’S okay. He had to get home.”

  “How’re you doing?”

  “Okay. Dad finally canned the tutor and put me in school.”

  Private school accounted for the dress clothes. “Do you like it? Even though it’s a new school, it probably feels good to go to classes again and be around kids your own age.”

  “I guess.” Jeff shrugged one shoulder, but his demeanor seemed more relaxed than it’d been since the accident. “I get to play more hockey.”

  “When your dad goes to DC, will you stay with your grandpa?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. That’s good.” She nodded, and then looked in the direction Jeff’s friend had gone. “So... Todd seems nice. Have you known him long?”

  “We’ve played hockey together for awhile, but we never hung out before last week. Once I started school at Liggett, we started hanging out.”

  Jeff was really good at hockey, so why wouldn’t they have made friends before? “That’s cool. Sounds like you’ve got something in common.”

  “Yeah, a lot actually. His mom’s this high-powered attorney and his dad’s gone all the time for work.”

  “Must be hard. Has it always been that way?”

  “Naw, his mom just went back to work a year ago. And it pretty much sucks. They don’t trust him at all. He has to check in with his mom as soon as he gets home, and he’s gotta babysit his little sister and help her with homework.”

  So Mom wasn’t around much anymore, and Dad traveled. Sounded a lot like Jeff’s situation. “What’s his dad do that keeps him on the road? Salesman?”

  “He’s a sports writer. He follows the Tigers around.”

  “Really? What’s his last name?”

  “Daniels.” Jeff squinted into the sun as he looked at her. “Why? You know him?”

  “Not personally. I think I’ve seen him around the newsroom.”

  Jeff looked over her shoulder as car pulled to the curb. “There’s Grandpa. I gotta go.” He climbed into the car, then rolled down the window. “Do you need a ride?”