The Lives Between Us

by Theresa Rizzo

  “Sorry.” Mark shook his head. “It’s against company policy.”

  “So what’re you doing in here?” She looked around as if looking for Eileen.

  Eileen’s office was surprisingly full. Files and articles sat in neat little piles on every work surface, and a half a dozen yellow square sticky notes clung to the walls. A coffee-stained mug with two swallows left sat next to a hair-tie and tube of lipstick.

  Eileen was a neatnick—yet her office wasn’t. She dressed chicly, always wearing these nasty spiked three-inch heels that flattered every woman’s legs, but would have tortured Skye’s feet. She turned to face them and knocked the lipstick tube onto the floor.

  Skye bent down to retrieve it and whacked her head on the desk with a loud bam. “Yow!” She staggered and clutched her head. “Ow! Dang that hurt.”

  Mark squatted next to her. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay.” Skye squatted, clutching her head. “It hurts.”

  Jenny peeled her hand back and dug her finger into the growing lump. “Let me see.”

  “Ow!” Skye yelped.

  “Do you have an icepack, or maybe some ice in a bag?” Jenny asked Mark.

  “There’s probably some in the lab. I’ll get it.”

  Mark hurried next door. As soon as he left, Jenny sprinted around the desk and settled in front of the computer. “Watch the door.”

  “What?” Skye frowned and rubbed her head.

  “Watch for Mark. Eileen jumped up to get your Pepto Bismol and might not have signed out before she left.” She spared Skye an inpatient look. “Keep an eye out.”

  Skye slowly got to her feet and reached out for the wall to steady herself. “Don’t mind me. No blood, so I must be fine.”

  There was some rustling in the hall before lab door next door clicked shut. “Stall him!” Jenny whispered.

  Skye stumbled into the hallway and into Mark’s chest. “I don’t feel any blood. I don’t think it’ll need stitches, do you?”

  Mark leaned close. Skye inhaled the sexy smell of him and the ache settling around her heart brought more tears to her eyes. She sniffled.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  Constantly. She shook her head.

  “No blood, just a huge bump. You should sit down.” He turned her toward Eileen’s office.

  Skye grabbed his arm and plunked to the hallway carpet, yanking Mark down with her.

  “Or here will do, I guess.” He brushed her hand away and gently placed a bag of ice on her throbbing head. “Are you lightheaded?”

  Skye kept her head down as she heard footsteps round the corner. “Un, huh.”

  “What happened? Do you need help?” Tina asked.

  Skye stared at her red baby-doll shoes. “No, it’s just a bump.”

  “Mark, Eileen called and asked me to let you know that Mrs. Hastings’s surgery went fine. You have about an hour before she’s out of recovery.”

  “Thanks, Tina.” Then he turned to Skye. “Do you think you can stand?”

  Jenny came into the hall. “Going to live?”

  Skye was relieved to hear Jenny’s voice. She reached a hand out to Mark, who stood and pulled her to her feet, then immediately released her. “I guess.” She glanced at Jenny. “You two done?”

  Mark looked at Jenny, who said, “I think I’ve got all I need.”

  “If not, you have my number.” Mark led them down the hall back toward the entrance.

  “Glad to hear Noelle’s surgery went well. Please tell her I’m thinking about her,” Skye said.

  Mark looked at Jenny, as if considering if she was any more trustworthy than Skye.

  “Jenny won’t say anything,” Skye assured him. “What happened in phase two? Should the recovery be very painful? She won’t have to have that halo screwed back in, will she?”

  Mark hesitated.

  Jenny looked at Mark. “Off the record. I give you my word I won’t say or print anything about the Hastings.” She hesitated. “Besides, my step-daughter was recently diagnosed with Huntington’s disease, so I’m really interested in any stem cell treatment.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  After a few more seconds of deliberation, Mark relented. “No halo. They injected the stem cells we’ve been growing for her into the spinal column at the site of her injury to see if they can help bridge the injury site, stimulate the injured neurons to regrow, and create a hospitable environment for the neurons we’re growing for transplant in the last phase. It shouldn’t be painful.”

  So, Eileen convinced Mark to let her grow the neurons instead of involving the other company. Interesting.

  “So basically, it’s just an injection of stem cells,” Jenny clarified.

  “Several injections. Yeah.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad, compared to her first surgery. Tell Noelle I’m thinking of her. Do you think Edward would...” Skye began to ask, before changing her mind. There was no way Edward would let her visit Noelle. “Can I send a gift? A card to—”

  “No.”

  —make her laugh. Skye silently finished her sentence. She looked away and blinked back tears at the unfairness of it all.

  “Mark, it was wonderful to meet you. Thank you for the interview, and I should have a draft for your approval by the end of the week.” Jenny shook Mark’s hand.

  “That’d be great.”

  The women signed out, returned their passes, and left the building. In the car, Jenny turned to Skye. “How’s your head? That was a brilliant diversion, by the way.”

  Feeling exhausted and defeated, Skye rested her head against the cool window. “It wasn’t intentional. I’m not that self-sacrificing. To add insult to injury, I couldn’t find her file.”

  “That’s okay ’cause I think I got something.” Jenny hunched over her phone and scrolled through the pictures. Squinting, she pulled the phone closer to her face. “Donor’s name is Connors, James and Shannon. Guess when they donated?”

  Skye perked up and peered at the phone. “Right after Noelle’s accident?”

  “Nope. Two days before. How coincidental. And convenient.” Jenny mused. She swiped her finger across the phone. “I’ve got to download these so I can read it better. I was in such a hurry, the images are blurry.”

  “So were they ESC or cord blood cells?”

  “Can’t tell yet. We need to dig a little deeper. First thing is to find James and Shannon Connors and ask them a few questions.” Jenny threw her phone in her purse and looked at Skye. “When do you have to turn in the follow-up article on Hastings?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  “If it turns out they donated embryos, what’re you going to do?”

  Skye sighed. She plunked the ice bag on her throbbing head, then leaned back against the headrest. “That’s the million-dollar question.”

  Chapter 31

  “Dad?” Jeff wadded up the chip bag and pitched it into the garbage. “Let’s go.”

  Dad rushed down the back stairs into the kitchen. He picked up his cell phone and clipped it to his belt. Frowning, he scanned the kitchen as if he’d forgotten something. “What’re we going to see?”

  “The new Transformers movie. Todd said it was totally awesome.”

  Dad went to the side counter and snatched his car keys. “With John Malkovich?”

  “I guess. Is Uncle Mark going with us?”

  “He’s working late.”

  “He’s always working or working out.”

  At the back closet, Dad handed Jeff his coat and slid into his leather bomber jacket. “Let’s swing by and see if he’s home.”

  They drove the mile or so to Uncle Mark’s house. He’d been one of the first to finish renovating his little house on Muir Road. Now several other houses had dumpsters in their driveways, and the neighborhood came alive during the day with the constant sound of hammering and screaming circular saws.

  The front of the house was dark, but light from the ba
ck of the house glowed warmly on the snow, and from the driveway they saw Uncle Mark’s shadow moving around the kitchen. They got out and let themselves in the back door.

  The dogs scrambled to greet them as they stomped their feet on the rug.

  “Mark?” Dad called out.

  Jeff bent over and pet the male jumping against his legs so that he felt the scrape of nails through his jeans. “Come here, girl,” he called to the shy female hanging back, wagging her tail from a few feet away.

  Jeff patted the male’s head, knocked him over, and rubbed his tummy, then scooped up the female as she came closer. Squirming puppy wrapped in his arms, he followed Dad into the kitchen.

  Dressed in ragged sweat pants and T-shirt with the arms ripped off, Uncle Mark stood at the sink chopping onions. His wet, dark hair stood on end. “Like her, Jeff?”

  “She’s pretty cute. When’s she gettin’ adopted?”

  “Nobody wants her. They’re put off ’cause she’s so shy.”

  Jeff stroked her soft fur, enjoying the way she tucked her head under his chin and snuffled his ear. She wasn’t shy, just cautious.

  Uncle Mark looked at Dad. “You should talk to Noelle and see if she’d want her. She’s smart and calm; she’d make a great service dog.”

  Jeff smiled. “I’d take her to obedience school and take care of her for Mom, and help train her.”

  Surprisingly Dad looked thoughtful. He’d expected Dad to shoot the idea down immediately.

  “That’s not a bad idea. I’ll look into it.”

  Uncle Mark nodded. “Good. One down, one to go. So what’re you guys up to?”

  “Going to a movie. Want to come?” Dad asked.

  With a jerk of his elbow he gestured to the pot on the stove. “Makin’ chili.”

  “Cooking for Ms. Kendall? Cause, I’m not sure that’s the best way to keep a lady—not with your cooking,” he joked, ready to duck the swat Uncle Mark was sure to throw his way.

  He picked up the cutting board and shoved the onions in a bubbling pot. “Nope.”

  Jeff scratched the spot behind her ear and the puppy’s little leg pumped as if scratching it herself. “She working?”

  “Probably.”

  Hmm. Uncle Mark’s indifference seemed odd. “You have a fight?” At Uncle Mark’s silence, Jeff prodded. “What’d you do?”

  That was sure to get a rise out of Uncle Mark, like, “Why do you assume it was something I did?”

  Uncle Mark grabbed a green pepper and with a quick, hard chop split it in two. One half flew into the sink. “Let’s just say I’d always be afraid if she got mad at me I’d find my name and private business splattered all over the tabloids.”

  “What does that mean?” Who had Skye written about that pissed him off? The only articles he knew Uncle Mark was mad about were the ones about him. But she hadn’t written any of those—did Uncle Mark think she had?

  “Forget it. It’s over.”

  Jeff’s hand paused over the puppy. His head jerked up. “You broke up with her?”

  “It’s none of our business.” Dad sent him a sharp look and sat on the stool. “What’ve you been up to?”

  Jeff squatted and put the puppy down, his mind working through this new situation.

  Uncle Mark turned. “Got this new book about eating right and weight training.”

  “Noelle said you only stopped by once this week.”

  “No... Really?” He raised his eyebrows. “Damn. Is she upset? How’s she doing?”

  “She’s doing great. She’s more concerned than upset. She thinks you work too hard.”

  Wonder if Mom knew about the break up. Probably not, or he’d have heard about it before now.

  “I’ll stop in tomorrow to see her.”

  “She’ll like that.” Dad looked at him. “What time’s the movie?”

  With one final pat for the puppy, Jeff stood and checked the time on his cell phone. “Fifteen minutes, but we can catch the eight o’clock show if Uncle Mark wants to come.”

  Maybe they’d get him out and cheer him up. Maybe he wasn’t really that upset about Skye. Judging by the repeated slapping of the chopping knife and way the pepper and onion flew off the cutting board, he’d say Uncle Mark was pretty pissed.

  Your fault, his conscience whispered.

  Not necessarily. Nobody knew for sure who those guys’ sources were. Maybe it had been Skye. Chicks were strange. Maybe she did do it, just like they thought.

  Maybe it was you, big mouth.

  “I don’t think so. You guys go.”

  “Oh, come on. Get cleaned up, and we’ll get going,” Dad said.

  “Not tonight. I’m just going to…” He poked at the green pepper he’d decimated. “Have a little dinner and watch a movie.”

  “And shower,” Jeff muttered loudly. “No offense, dude, but you smell.”

  Uncle Mark looked his way but didn’t say anything. Usually a remark like that was guaranteed to get a “What? You don’t like the way I smell, kid?” And he’d wrestle Jeff until he pinned him for a nuggie.

  Suddenly Uncle Mark threw down the knife and turned off the radio. Jeff opened his mouth to complain that he’d interrupted a good song, then he remembered Skye liked Imagine Dragons.

  “What movie? Maybe we’ll watch it with you.” Dad said.

  “Casino Royale.”

  “That came out years ago,” Jeff said. He didn’t want to see that again.

  “It’s a good movie. A classic.”

  “You just want to drool over the Bond babe,” he teased.

  Uncle Mark scowled. “Hardly. That bitch betrayed 007.”

  “She did not,” Dad said.

  “Did, too. After he nearly died—”

  “And she saved his life,” Dad broke in. “If she hadn’t come along and connected the wires to his defibrillator, he’d have died.”

  “Of course she saved him—she still needed him. He hadn’t won the poker game yet.” Uncle Mark put the knife down and leaned against the counter. “He handed her his heart on a friggin’ platter. He trusted her. Hell, he quit the Royal Service to build a life with her, and she betrayed him.”

  Jeff’s gaze swiveled from one man to the other as he resisted the urge to squirm. Uncle Mark was too pissed for this to be about a movie.

  “She didn’t betray him, the other guy blackmailed her,” Dad argued. “She bought his safety.”

  “She betrayed him.”

  “No. Then in the end, when she was drowning in the cage and he finally got the door open, why didn’t she escape with him? If she was so evil, why didn’t she go with him and live to enjoy the millions she stole from him? Why pull the door shut and drown?”

  “Guilt. She knew she deserved to die.” He pointed at them. “Or she feared he’d turn her in, and she didn’t want to go to jail.”

  Dad winced and shook his head. “That’s reaching, man. Really reaching. When did you become so cynical?”

  When he broke up with Skye because he thought she’d betrayed us. Jeff studied the wood floor.

  “Not cynical; just stating the fact. She’s a manipulative bitch who betrayed him.”

  “Maybe she didn’t know what she was doing. Maybe it was an accident.” The suggestion burst from Jeff.

  Both men turned to him with identical puzzled looks.

  That came out a little more forceful than he’d intended. Jeff looked away, refusing to stare them down for fear they’d read his mind. He shrugged, trying to be cool. “Just sayin’. It could’ve been an accident.”

  “No, it was deliberate,” his dad denied with a quick shake of his head.

  “It could’ve been,” he insisted. Jeff flipped his phone over and over in his hand.

  Uncle Mark remained silent. Jeff wished he’d say something—anything. Why didn’t he speak? His silence and puzzled look made Jeff nervous.

  Uncle Mark stared at him, thinking. “Ya know, Ed, maybe I will go with you guys after all.”

  Oh crap.

&nb
sp; “In fact...” Uncle Mark put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed hard. “My godson and I have got some catching up to do. Why don’t I take Jeff, and you go make a dent in that stack of reading you always bring back with you?”

  “I can do it later.” Dad reached out to snag a piece of celery. “I promised Jeff—”

  “But it’ll be hanging over your head. Just take care of it now so you can enjoy the rest of the weekend. You can do your father-son bonding later. He doesn’t mind, do you Jeff?” Uncle Mark stared at him, as if daring him to weasel out.

  He tried to ignore Uncle Mark’s steady stare but couldn’t. “Uh… No.”

  “Great. In fact...” He rummaged around in his cupboard, and grabbed a container, and ladled some chili into it. “On your way home, why don’t you drop this off for Noelle?”

  The rehab place wasn’t on the way home. Not even close.

  “She can’t eat real food yet. She’s fed through the tube.”

  “Right. Then you have it.”

  Dad held up the cylindrical container. “Is it done?”

  “Sure. Besides, it’ll cook some more when you reheat it.” He thrust the chili into Dad’s hands and then turned him toward the door. “Get going before it cools.”

  “Jeff?”

  Dad knew Uncle Mark was getting rid of him. He was giving Jeff a choice. Just one sign, and Dad would take him. He was tempted, but no point in prolonging the inevitable. He nodded. “Tell Mom I’ll see her tomorrow.”

  “’Kay.” The door closed behind Dad with a loud thud. Sort of like a nail in his coffin.

  Uncle Mark moved to stand by the sink. With his fingers wrapped around the counter lip, he leaned back and crossed his ankles in an all-too-casual pose. Jeff waited an eternity for him to speak. “You have something you want to tell me?”

  Jeff wiped sweaty palms on his thighs, suddenly glad the counter was between them. Wanted to tell him? Nope. He definitely did not want to tell him anything. Didn’t want to make him angry or disappoint him. “Not really.”

  “Okay. So. What have you accidentally done?”

  Jeff opened his eyes wide, trying to look innocent. He thought about trying to bluff his way out, but it’d come out eventually. He might as well level with Uncle Mark. “I... Uh...”